#gainerfic

[originalfatfiction]

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals. 

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer. 

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression. 

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be. 

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity. 

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations. 

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing. 

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life. 

George—Kyle Donnelly 

Candy—Hallie James 

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio 

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston 

Slim—Raul Mota 

Crooks—Richard Smith 

Carlson—John Waterson 

The Boss—Ken Ortega 

Whit—Holden Sanders 

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD 

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).  

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical. 

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray. 

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip. 

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”) 

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history? 

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping. 

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.  

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?” 

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win. 

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extra circulars, why shouldn’t he? 

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.” 

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?  

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”  

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.” 

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him. 

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.  

I was getting ahead of myself. 

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.” 

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago. 

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.” 

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business. 

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful. 

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs. 

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.  

Softball—I sucked.  

Badminton—I sucked.  

Basketball—I sucked.  

Volleyball—I sucked. 

Kickball—I sucked. 

Floor Hockey—I sucked. 

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.  

I was screwed, that was all I had.  

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing. 

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.  

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked. 

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly. 

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his. 

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.  

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.  

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.” 

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym. 

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.  

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.  

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger. 

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered. 

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering. 

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage. 

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?” 

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.” 

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite. 

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly. 

I wrote a simple message. It read: 

Hey Greg, 

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.  

I signed it with just my first name, Holden. 

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. 

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me. 

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo. 

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return. 

He ate the Twix during class. 

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.  

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday. 

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.” 

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was. 

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him. 

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club. 

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection. 

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.” 

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”. 

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.” 

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face. 

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”  

“Very funny, Gregory.” 

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?” 

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” 

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven. 

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.  

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth. 

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him. 

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements. 

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.” 

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most. 

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year. 

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat. 

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family. 

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.” 

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva. 

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.  

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone,” he barked. 

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me. 

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.  

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.  

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.  

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily. 

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.  

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose. 

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.  

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.  

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.  

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.” 

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches. 

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.” 

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly. 

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.” 

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly. 

“One, The Princess and the Frog.” 

“The Disney movie?” 

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.” 

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.” 

“Never.” 

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?” 

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.” 

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning. 

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.” 

“Sorry Holden.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness. 

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.” 

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?” 

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.” 

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.” 

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever. 

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?” 

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said. 

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed. 

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak. 

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.” 

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang. 

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable. 

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week. 

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing. 

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.” 

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?” 

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.” 

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?” 

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches. 

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck. 

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked. 

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.” 

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.” 

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean. 

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.” 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” 

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.” 

“I wish we could trade.” 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.” 

“What’s a Tony?” 

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house. 

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.  

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs. 

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?” 

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”  

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.” 

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life. 

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. 

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides. 

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.  

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy. 

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.  

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.  

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.” 

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.” 

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.” 

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.” 

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth. 

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session. 

“Greg must not like him very much.” 

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.” 

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile. 

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic. 

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing. 

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.” 

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.” 

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.” 

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.” 

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.” 

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt. 

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension. 

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.” 

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable. 

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show. 

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner. 

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. 

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him. 

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.  

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit. 

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger. 

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.  

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened. 

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything. 

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again. 

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me. 

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true. 

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.  

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know. 

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.” 

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down. 

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating. 

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.” 

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men. 

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.” 

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.” 

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.” 

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all. 

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny. 

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there. 

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.  

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.” 

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage. 

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity. 

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!” 

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked. 

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.” 

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten. 

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said. 

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!” 

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.” 

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well. 

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men. 

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.  

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on. 

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted. 

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques. 

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.  

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating. 

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks. 

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”  

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.” 

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.” 

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move. 

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction. 

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement. 

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed. 

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him. 

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.” 

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass. 

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.  

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.” 

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.” 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.” 

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile. 

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction. 

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction. 

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.  

“All good,” I said. 

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard. 

“My secret fort,” I replied. 

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing. 

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit. 

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.” 

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person. 

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another. 

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me. 

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.” 

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now. 

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head. 

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.” 

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was. 

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten. 

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.  

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!” 

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!” 

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck. 

“Text me when you get home,” I said. 

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy. 

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then. 

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite. 

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it. 

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George. 

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle. 

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.  

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself. 

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said. 

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before. 

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it. 

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked. 

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked. 

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.  

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.  

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment. 

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy. 

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm. 

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.” 

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more. 

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.  

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.  

“We most definitely do.”  

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night. 

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle. 

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together. 

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him. 

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star. 

The End!

[feeder86]

The 1%

It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility. 

Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.

“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”

Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.

“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.

An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs. 

The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.

“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.

Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”

Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”

Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.

During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.

As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.

Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”

Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.

During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back. 

It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.

Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.

Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.

“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”

“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.

“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”

Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.

“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself. 

“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”

“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”

“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.

Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”

Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.

“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”

Nicko nodded his head frantically.

“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.

Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.

With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything. 

The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!

“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.

Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.

Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”

“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.

Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.

Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.

“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”

“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.

“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”

“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”

Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.

“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.

Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.

“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”

“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.

Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”

Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.

“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”

“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”

“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”

“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.

“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years

Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”

In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.

Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.

As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.

Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.

“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”

It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.

“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.

Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.

“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.

The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.

“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.

“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.

“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”

Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.

“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”

Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.

“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”

Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.

“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.

“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.

“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal. 

Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.

“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.

“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.

Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him? 

“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football. 

“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.

“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”

“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”

“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”

They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.

“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”

But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.

“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.

“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”

Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.

“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”

“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.

“Not even close!” Carl laughed.

“Do you think I could be, one day?”

Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”

The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”

With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.  

“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”

The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.

“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”

Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs. 

Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”

“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly. 

“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.

It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.

“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”

Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body. 

“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”

Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.

“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”

“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”

Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.

Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”

Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it. 

He would be the very best piggy.  

[fictionalgainer]

Summary of all my stories

Free :

Adam's weight gain

Nate's glasses

Patreon :

Max's weight gain

Jackson's secret

Link to my Patreon : https://www.patreon.com/FictionalGainer

[originalfatfiction]

Belonging

His name was Amos Stanton, and we’d met online. He was twenty-nine years old, eight years my senior, and we had been corresponding with one another since I was nineteen. He’d wanted to meet up with me on multiple occasions, offering to arrange everything to make it happen, but in the end, I always chickened out. In all honesty, I was surprised he put up with me and my apprehension considering he seemed well-off and very honest about his intentions. I always had the feeling that he thought I was a flake who couldn’t truly commit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I thought about him constantly, but I had my reasons for being so hesitant to meet him in person. We’d had hundreds of phone calls over the years, but only a handful of video chatting sessions. Aside from a couple of photographs, I hadn’t even really seen his body. I sent him loads of pictures, but he was a more reserved sort of guy. I only had a foggy idea of what to expect from an actual meet-up. I guess it was a fear of ruining something I’d been building up in my mind for years. What if he’d been dishonest? I wouldn’t be able to continue our relationship if he had lied to me.

I hadn’t gone off to college. I worked a low paying retail job in the mall and still lived at home. My parents were furious I didn’t accept the wrestling scholarship I had been offered from our state school. Both of my older brothers went off to college and sometimes I regretted not going as well, at least to get away from my parents. But I knew deep down I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I was never much for education.

Amos had finally convinced me to come and live with him. We’d been talking about an argument I’d had with my parents. They kept telling me I was wasting my life and that I couldn’t live with them forever. I was barely twenty-one, the candles on my birthday cake still smoking. I sure as hell didn’t want to live with them much longer. Amos listened as I complained, letting me know I’d be okay, and things would get better with my parents. “I just don’t wanna be here,” I’d said, not truly expecting him to provide me with a solution.

“Then come live with me,” he’d replied. “I’ll take care of you.”

 And that was that.

He owned a home in a larger city, and he told me I was more than welcome to stay for as long as I liked. I knew it was crazy and I knew this could turn out terribly, but I also knew—deep down—that this was what I needed in my life to be happy. I knew that Amos would give me what I’d always wanted for myself.

I wanted to be big.

Amos would talk to me about how strong he could make me, about how big I’d get, about how I was going to be his devoted ex-jock. I would get hard just thinking about it and masturbate for hours. I still lifted hard, even after being out of high school for three years, but I wasn’t getting any size. My body was that of a wrestler and I still found it hard to eat a lot of food. I was barely 160 pounds on my 5’8” frame. I had ended high school at 145 pounds, so I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough.

A few days after that conversation with Amos, I sat my parents down and told them about how I was going to live with a buddy from high school, that a job training program opened up near his home, and that I’d try to visit during the holidays. It was late April at this point. My father told me it was the right thing to do as a man and gave me a hundred dollars to get started in the world. I loved my parents but being at home wasn’t going to make me happy.

The next thing I knew I was on a bus, the ride only about two hours. I had arranged everything with Amos, and he told me he’d be there to greet me. I was nervous. I kind of wanted to turn around and go back home, but at this point I had to follow through. I wasn’t going to flake out this time. I had to think positively and believe everything was going to work out.

My bus pulled into the terminal, and after grabbing my two duffel bags, I made my way to the waiting area. I thought about if he didn’t show. I would look like a complete idiot with nowhere to go. I couldn’t survive alone in the city with only my measly savings account and the hundred bucks from my mom and dad.

I knew what he looked like from his pictures and our handful of video chats, but it was still hard trying to find him in the crowd of people. “Russell,” I heard a voice call. I scanned the crowd again. “Hey there.” There he stood, in the flesh. Amos. I was more than excited. I felt like a little kid with a schoolyard crush. I dropped my bags and went in to hug him. He was tall and thinly muscled. Now this was living. “Well fuck,” he said. “You’re cute.”

I laughed, my face hot with embarrassment. I had to remember he was an older guy and that I had to act more maturely. “It’s, uh, really nice to finally meet you,” I said, trying my best to contain my enthusiasm.

“Likewise,” he said with a grin. He motioned towards the exit. “My car’s this way. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bags and followed behind him like a lost puppy. 

He was maybe about 6’3” and took long strides. I walked quickly to keep up. He wore a pair of stylish charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt. His ass looked great, very firm and round. I watched it shift as I walked along behind him. He looked younger than he actually was, definitely not like he was almost thirty.

I liked that he was taller than I was. I was the tallest one in my entire family, so it was a well embraced change of pace. I was a black guy, with skin the color of milk chocolate. Amos was sort of pale, but still looked healthy. He didn’t have any facial hair, but I had a slight beard.

I could already tell we were going to make a great pair.

We made it to his home, and it was not what I had imagined. It was actually much larger than I had anticipated. We walked up a few stone steps to his front door and he let me inside. It was very modern and spacious. “Your house is amazing,” I said. He laughed.

“Yeah, I do pretty all right for myself.” He took my bags from me and directed me to follow him. We walked down a hallway, stopping outside of a closed door. He told me to go on in and I obeyed. I entered a bedroom that was small, but nicer than the room I had at home. “This is your personal room, feel free to arrange things however you like.” I had thought I would be staying with him in his bedroom, but I guess we weren’t much of a couple. “How about I show you the rest of the house?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I said.

After that, he gave me the grand tour. He showed me the kitchen and told me I could eat anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. He added that he didn’t think I’d ever be that in need of a snack. I got hard thinking about him filling me with food, making sure I was never hungry. I wanted it so badly, and I was finally going to get it.

He continued with the tour, taking me through the back door. There was a pool in his yard and a tall fence that obscured his property from the neighbors. “You’ve even got a pool,” I said, majorly impressed.

“Perfect for skinny dipping,” he said. I laughed, getting even more erect. His whole aura was like an aphrodisiac. We went back into the house, where he showed me the master bathroom, which was ridiculously grandiose. The tub was huge. There was even a separate shower that had room for at least three people. 

“Come on,” he said. “This is somewhere you’ll really love.” I followed him down some stairs to the basement, which had the laundry room, but also a home gym. He had a substantial amount of equipment.

“This is amazing,” I told him. I walked over to a rack of weights, taking in their quality. Everything was in pristine condition.

“Hope you’re ready to use those,” he said with a wink. Amos was everything I had imagined and more. I was excited to get big for him. I wanted to make him happy. Having gotten to know him online for nearly three years made me all the more ready to get to know him in person. I wanted to do whatever he asked of me, to submit to whatever he asked, and to grow. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he said. I followed him back upstairs to the kitchen and he pulled out a large salad from the refrigerator. He placed it in front of me, along with three types of salad dressing. “I didn't know what type you liked,” he said. “I’m going to heat up this tray of lasagna I made, so you just eat that while you wait, okay?”

“Yes sir,” I said, picking up the ranch dressing and a fork. He chuckled lightly. He busied himself reheating the lasagna and I greedily shoved the leafy greens into my mouth. He placed a basket of warm rolls next to me. He had heated them up while I’d been tearing into the salad. I took one and bit into its soft, buttery goodness.

He poured me a glass of milk, which didn’t taste like 2%. It was kind of sweet. He sat across from me at the table. The lasagna had another fifteen minutes in the oven. “It’s really good so far,” I said through a mouthful of food. “I’m excited for the lasagna.”

“Well, you have to eat it all,” he said. “I’m looking to be impressed.” I swallowed more of the salad, feeling a little full already.

“All of it?” I inquired. He laughed. He was really attractive, and his laugh was no different. He was thin, but his body had an obvious muscularity. He had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to reveal well-toned forearms. I was sure he used his home gym regularly. There was a treadmill down there and I doubted it was for me.

“I’m trying to be hospitable,” he said, smiling playfully. He was teasing me. “You wouldn’t want to offend me, would you?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“That’s what I thought.”

A little after that, he pulled the lasagna from the oven, allowing it to cool as I finished the salad, which had been in a large serving bowl. He cut a piece for himself and put it on a plate. He placed the rest of the dish in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to impress him, so I dove into the lasagna with gusto. I made it halfway through before I thought I was going to pass out.

He kept refilling my glass of milk, having finished his portion a while ago. He sat across from me at the table and watched me silently. “I-I don’t think I can finish it,” I said breathlessly.

“I think you can,” he said. “You don’t want to be rude, right?”

“Yeah, right. I-I guess—I’ll keep eating.” He had a quality that made me want to be better. I didn’t want to let him down. I made it through another ten forkfuls. He stood up and walked to my side of the table.

“You’re going to eat that,” he said, his voice firm and authoritative, but supportive. It was driving me wild and even though my stomach was in pain, I had an even more painful erection. “You know you want to get big. You’ve got to eat up if you want to get bigger.” He was right. I had to finish this. I leaned over the dish and began to shovel the rest of the pasta into my mouth, sauce covering my cheeks. This went on for a couple more minutes before I was finished.

I don’t know if it was the athlete in me, but I even took the last roll and cleaned the dish before downing the rest of my milk. I couldn’t believe I’d eaten like that. After all of that eating I was ready to sleep. He let me clean up and go to bed, and I was grateful for it.

The next morning, I made my way to the kitchen and found a dozen doughnuts waiting for me. There was an assortment of flavors, and I was enjoying being able to sample each one. I couldn’t believe I could eat again after last night, but I was actually hungry. I also helped myself to some more milk.

I found a note on the refrigerator that said the doughnuts were pre-breakfast. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but I assumed Amos would have me eating something else soon. I was excited at the idea of eating so much. When I lived at home, I ate a lot, but not as much as this—not nearly as much as this.

A little while later I heard someone enter through the front door. It was Amos and he had three bags of fast food. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen. “This is for you—ah, good, you got the doughnuts.”

“They were really good, thanks,” I said. He smiled at me, and I felt my stomach flutter. It was a mixture of attraction to him and anticipation of what else he’d expect me to fit in there. I couldn’t believe how ordinary my life had been up until this point.

“Before you get started on breakfast, there are some things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, that’s fine, anything.”

“All right,” he said. He had me come into the living room and I sat on the sofa. “There are some things I need from you, things that’ll make me happy and hopefully you’ll like them too.”

“Okay,” I said. I was listening intently, but I was also thinking about what else he had gotten me for breakfast. I turned my attention back to Amos.

“When you’re in the house I want you to wear nothing but underwear, be it briefs or jockstraps. I want to be able to look at you.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said. He laughed. I really was okay with that. He was making me horny, and it was only because he was being so controlling. I knew that was something I was looking for, but damn, it was arousing in action.

“I need you to follow a workout schedule and I need you to eat everything I tell you too.” He paused for a moment, in what I was assuming was an attempt to choose the phrasing of his next statement. “You can only cum when I let you. No masturbating.” I nodded in agreement. That was going to be way more difficult than the underwear thing. “I also want to record your stats every month because, honestly, I think it’s really erotic.” I stood up and looked at him seriously. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and pulled off my pajama bottoms. I stood in a pair of white low-rise briefs. “Fuck kid, can you be any more adorable.”

After we discussed the guidelines he wanted me to follow, I ate my actual breakfast. I had six sausage biscuits and eight hash browns. I was struggling at around four of the sandwiches, but Amos made sure I finished them all. He also had me drink a fuck ton of his special milk as well.

He took my stats for the first month after that, and I weighed in at 164 pounds. I stood in my underwear as he measured me, my stomach rounded out from all the food I had eaten. His touching me all over had my penis stiffening. “Somebody’s excited,” he said laughing.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said with a toothy grin.

“Remember, we’ve got to hold off on that,” he said, looking up from taking my measurements. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He stood up and looked down at me. He observed me intently for a moment, his eyes a beautiful hazel color with intense flecks of green. His nose was thin, but large. It was complemented by his fleshy lips and strong jawline.

His hand found its way to my bulge. He grabbed onto it through my underwear. “Can I kiss you?” I asked. He smiled at me before leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to do so much more with him. I wanted to let him fill me up from behind just as much as he had been filling me up with food. I felt like I was ready to explode. He bit my lower lip softly and then slowly stopped kissing me.

“Well, let’s get you started with that workout.” He removed his hand from my crotch, and I heard myself whimper. I’d never made that sound before, but Amos had me whimpering. It excited me how badly I wanted him, how badly I wanted him to want me. I’d do whatever necessary to impress him, to make it impossible for him to resist the body he was going to build. I was going to be Amos’ monster. An absolute beast.

Fuck. My dick was already leaking as I made my way to my room to grab some socks and my gym shoes. We made our way to the basement, my dick still rock hard. He was also in his own workout gear. He explained to me that he’d be running and doing light weight training.

I was going to be doing more hardcore workouts and when things were too serious, he’d spot me. My boner lasted until about halfway through my workout, but once I really got into it, I barely remembered how horny I was. I had rarely ever pushed myself so hard. I couldn’t believe how sore I was after. It felt amazing and I was shocked that come lunch time I was famished. I felt ready to eat everything he had to throw at me.

Over those first two weeks I was falling hard for him. I was also incredibly excited for my upcoming monthly weigh-in. I had taken to getting up in the middle of the night to have a snack or two. I wanted him to be impressed with me, and I wanted results. I was finally realizing my dreams.

I could barely touch my penis without wanting to masturbate. I was very accustomed to freely jacking off whenever I felt the urge. When I was just messaging Amos online, I would find myself doing it two or three times a night. I found that while I was eating or lifting, the compulsion to masturbate was numbed. I wondered if Amos knew that’d happen.

My days consisted of pre-breakfast and then actual breakfast, a workout, lunch, another workout, dinner, and post-dinner. There were also my late-night snacks and whatever else I ate during the day. I was feeling so different and like a better version of myself. When my first weigh-in arrived, I was more than excited. I stood in a red jock that Amos had gotten me a little over a week ago. It cradled my junk in a way that made me more than aware that I hadn’t masturbated in a month.

He had me step onto the scale and I felt his eyes all over me. I knew Amos turned me on beyond belief, but it was nice in these moments to see that I made him just as horny. I wondered if he masturbated at all. “Shit, Russ, I thought you were looking big this month but not this big,” he said. “181 pounds.” I flexed my arms a little and he smiled.

“I did good, huh?” I asked, stepping off of the scale. He walked close to me and placed his warm hands on my waist. My stomach was no longer flat. I looked bloated at all times, but in actuality I was finally getting fatter. I felt stronger than ever, and the gainer shakes after my workouts were doing nothing but good things for my waistline.

“Your workouts are going well,” he said as his hands moved down my sides and towards my ass. “And I think I know where all that weight is going.” I felt my face heat up. “You must be doing extra squats to get this ass so big.” He grabbed my backside harder than I expected. I had been hard since I stepped on the scale, and I felt pre-cum spurt from the head of my dick.

He kissed me, and I felt my body relax in ecstasy. The smallest touches from Amos were enough to send me into a headspace that I had never experienced in my entire life. I longed to be close to him always. I still stayed in my own room, longing for the day he’d invite me into his own bed. Amos pulled away slowly. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

“You deserve something special,” he said. His face was as red as I’d ever seen it. Was he finally going to give me what I’d been dreaming of? I was still a virgin, only ever been fingered by some boy just as sexually immature as I was. We had both been on the wrestling team in high school. Last I heard, he was dating some girl he met at the community college in my parents' town. Amos walked towards the kitchen, and I took that as an indication to follow him. “Eat this.” He had brought out a beautiful pink box. It looked like it was from some super fancy bakery.

“I’ll eat it,” I said seriously. I opened the box and inside were six large cupcakes of varying flavors. He knew I loved a variety. I picked up one as we stood in the middle of the kitchen. I looked at him as I bit into the sweet treat.

“That’s chocolate vanilla swirl,” he said with a smirk. I laughed as I licked icing from my lips. It was a really delicious cupcake. He got on his knees as I was finishing the chocolate vanilla swirl cupcake.

“What—what’re you doing?” I asked.

“If you can talk right now, you should be eating,” he said. He pulled the jock to the ground and my dick bobbed freely for a moment. I started on the next cupcake. It had a lot of little red sprinkles. It was kind of spicy and very chocolaty. I shoved the rest of the treat into my open mouth, and he wrapped his lips around the head of my penis. I immediately felt pre-cum spurt into his mouth. I wasn’t going to last long. I started eating the rest of the cupcakes like a mad man. When I thought about the food, I wasn’t completely focused on the best blowjob of my existence. I didn’t want to cum too quickly.

Amos stopped sucking me off and began to lightly kiss my gut. I took another oversized bite of a cupcake, this one lemon flavored. I focused on the citrus, finishing it in another large bite. I felt so greedy eating like this and that was turning me on even more. I reached for the next one—Red Velvet. I looked down, and Amos looked up at me, his eyes unlike I’d seen them ever before. He loved this. He loved what he was doing to my body. He watched as I shoved a majority of the Red Velvet cupcake in my mouth. He moved his hand to my ass, squeezing one of my plump cheeks.

“Finish ‘em off, Russ,” Amos directed before bringing his mouth back towards my dick. He licked my shaft slowly, popping the head back in his mouth. I had to grab the next one, to prevent a premature eruption—S’mores. Graham cracker and marshmallow flooded my taste buds.

I hastily reached for the last cupcake. I bit into it, surprised by a substantial amount of banana pudding that was on the inside. This was a Banana Cream Pie cupcake. I got some of the pudding on my fingers and I licked them quickly, swallowing the remaining morsels of the baked good. My moist hand found the side of my gut and I rubbed it gently. This was the biggest I’d ever been, but also the smallest I’d ever be again.

“I ate them all, Sir,” I said breathlessly. He slowed, pulling his mouth away for a moment to take me in.

Without the eating to distract me, I felt it happening before I could angle my path of ejaculation away from him. Some hit him on the chin and the rest covered the front of his lavender dress shirt. I felt it coming out of me for what felt like a whole minute. “I’m so sorry. It—it was an accident,” I said all flustered. He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. He stood shirtless in front of me, and I was immediately turned on again. Amos had a well-defined body, which was long and slightly hairy. His hair looked well-groomed, and I wanted to touch his chest and the hair on his stomach. His stomach reminded me of my wrestling days, when I actually had abs.

“Somebody got a little excited.” He laughed softly, and I felt myself smile. He wasn’t mad at me.

I couldn’t believe it, but I was suddenly very, very hungry.

That weigh-in was in May and we were halfway through the month of June. The weather had gotten really hot, but I spent most of my time in the house. I only ever went outside to swim around in the pool. We hadn’t gone out in public, but I wasn’t too concerned. I was focusing on eating and lifting. I was feeling really big, the largest I had ever been in my life. My capacity had increased, and I was going through gainer shakes like there was no tomorrow. I probably had at least four or five every day.

Amos had taken a lot of time off to spend time with me that first month and a half, but now he was working a lot more. He was a realtor and sold luxury homes.

He had things delivered for me to eat around lunch time. I had eaten a lot of pizza and pastas. He’d bring me desserts in the pink boxes every other evening. He was a really sweet guy. “Russell,” he started. “I want you to go out more. You don’t have to stay in the house all day.” I had always assumed that was what I was supposed to do.

“Oh—that’s cool,” I said. “But what would I do?”

“Go out to eat,” he said with a smirk. “I actually ordered you some summer clothes.” I had no clue he had done that. “But you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” Why would I not want to wear them? He went to retrieve them from his bedroom. There were a lot of shorts and tanks. There was also a pair of sweats that looked like they were made out of the material of a wrestling singlet. I was wearing a jockstrap, so I could easily put on an outfit.

I grabbed a pair of navy shorts and pulled them on. They were really tight. I would normally be much too bashful to wear something like this in public. My thighs looked huge in the shorts. I got them up over my ass, which was actually getting much bigger. Amos was right about me doing a lot of squats, but it was only because I knew he liked my butt. I could feel that the crack of my ass was not fully covered. I pulled on a tank top, which was white with thin blue horizontal stripes. For the first time in my life, I truly felt big. My bulge was a little obscene, but I was fully covered.

“Do you, uh like, this kind of outfit?” Amos asked, clearing his throat. “I could always get you something else—less revealing.”

“Do I look good in this?” I asked.

“Of course you do!” he exclaimed, his face reddening. I walked closer to him, feeling the most monstrous I’d ever felt, and wrapped my arms around him. He placed one of his hands on my head, the other on my ass. We stood that way for a long time. It was really nice, feeling his body against mine. “Let’s go out. Get your shoes on.”

I went to my room and put on socks and sneakers. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the door of my bedroom and stopped for a moment. I was becoming what I had always wanted. I flexed my arms for myself before my hands found their way to my gut. It was nice having so much size.

I turned to the side and saw how it stood out from my body. I was getting myself worked up. I lifted my tank up and saw how beefy my gut was. It made me want to eat. My pecs were large, but all the lifting I did couldn’t stop fat from accumulating there as well. My ass was always huge, and it had gotten a great deal beefier in the past two months.

We drove in his car and ended up at a public park. I hadn’t been in a large crowd in some time, and it made me a little anxious. I suddenly didn’t feel that big, and I even felt naked in my outfit. I wanted really badly to grab his hand, but I fought the urge.

There were booths and food trucks lined up and down the sidewalk offering a variety of different foods. It was barely six o’clock. He patted me on the stomach and smiled. “I’ve got cash,” he said. “Let’s try lots of stuff.”

We walked from booth to booth getting different foods. He’d buy a large sample and nibble off of it before allowing me to demolish the rest. I was his human garbage disposal. We had Greek food and Mexican. I tried something called a pierogi and had a plateful of BBQ. There was a booth full of soul food that reminded me of home, and I had a great deal of that.

He was really fun to be around. He liked to people watch and would make really funny comments. There was this guy who was on roller blades in a Statue of Liberty costume that we watched for a while. “I bet he just has a blast,” Amos said with a chuckle. “Not a care in the world. Living for liberty and freedom, skating through the park annoying soccer moms and joggers alike.”

“He’s serving his country,” I added. “A true American hero.” He laughed for a while at that one, and it made me feel good. After that we went to get ice cream. I was already painfully full but pushing past that point made me feel good. On our way to the ice cream stall, I rubbed my belly mindlessly. A woman looked at me a little disgustedly and then away quickly. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. “She must be so jealous of me. I’m with the hottest guy in the whole park.”

“Ha, yeah,” I replied, feeling a little weird.

“Let’s get that ice cream,” he said gently. He ordered me a huge cone and it was actually pretty tasty. His was different than mine and he offered to let me taste his as well. He held the ice cream up to my face and I took a lick. I could see he was turned on and so I ate a little more. I had already finished mine, being the fat boy that I was. Before he knew what was up, I had almost completely slurped down most of his dessert. “Do—do you want the rest?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I took the cone from him. I finished it quickly.

“Man,” he started. “I feel so indecent getting a boner in a public park.” Amos rarely talked like this, and it was getting me going. We walked slowly next to one another. He leaned closer into me before he spoke again. “And watching that huge bubble butt of yours shifting back and forth in those little shorts makes me want to lick you all over.”

I was getting an erection, and in these shorts that would be a problem. I tried hard to stay calm, but I was semi-erect. “Amos, don’t say that. I—I get too excited.”

“I know how you get,” he said. “You’re horny all the time and the fact you’re making so much progress turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” He grabbed a handful of my ass, and my penis was no longer just semi-erect. I wanted him to fuck me. “You’re becoming this big strong bull, but you know I’m still the one taking care of you.” I once again whimpered like a dog, a sound I found myself making much more frequently. I was feeling so submissive, and I wanted Amos to dominate me.

“Amos, I—I like that you take care of me.” He removed his hand from my butt.

“I do a good job, don’t I?” he asked. “And I always will, because you’re mine.” I nodded quickly. A man who had been walking near us cleared her throat theatrically. We ignored him and made our way back to Amos’ car. On the way home he bought me a couple of burgers and a milkshake.

I ate everything. 

Sometime in July I asked him what I could do that’d turn him on even more. He was pretty bashful about telling me at first, but I pulled it out of him. He was a fan of men that were intimidating but he could still be dominant over. So, I ended up getting some piercings and he wondered if I’d get my hair cut a certain way.

It all happened in one day, and at first, I was a little nervous. I got my nipples pierced first, and then my ears. I also got a mohawk fade. My beard had gotten much thicker as well. I was really digging the new me.

I’d be the first one to admit that I did look a great deal more intimidating. He couldn’t wait for the nipple piercings to heal. I had the feeling Amos was getting more and more amped up to actually fuck me.

By August I weighed over 200 pounds for the first time in my life. Amos was more than happy when the scale told him I was 219 pounds. I had taken to eating even more than ever before and Amos could barely believe it. I felt unstoppable. I was a beast.

“My family wants to meet you,” Amos said dryly one afternoon in mid-August. I never really considered the fact that Amos could even have a family. He seemed so independent that I imagined he was one day put on the earth as an adult. “They want me to host the Labor Day party this year, because of the pool.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’d be too nervous.” I drank from a shake made from protein powder, ice cream, and whole milk. “What if they don’t like me?”

“You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I doubt they’d dislike you.”

“But—but, what about how—”

“How you look?” he asked. I nodded. “You look fucking spectacular. I’m not ashamed of you in any way. I actually want to show you off every chance I get, so everyone knows I’m with such a stud.”

“It’s your family, Amos. They’re more important than some strangers on the street.”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he started, sounding even more serious than before. It’s like he had some sort of power in which he could make his voice soothing yet commanding. “I live my life for myself. You and me, we’re a package deal. They’ll treat you with respect or they can leave. Simple as that. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, the front of my jock bulging as my dick hardened. I was nervous and excited at the same time. Amos saw me as something other than some guy he was fooling around with. He respected me enough to introduce me to his family as his boyfriend. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Good boy,” he said, patting me on the tummy. “I guess we’ve got a party to plan.”

Leading up to Labor Day we found lots of fun things for the party. It wouldn’t be a lot of people, but Amos planned an incredibly large menu. He described all the things that would be prepared and how much he expected me to eat.

We went to shop for swimsuits, and even though I already had one or normally swam naked, he insisted I get another one. I ended up getting a lime green pair of classic cut trunks. I felt like they would be too revealing for a family function, but he told me they were perfectly fine.

My ass was large and firm, and even with the XL swimwear I was not fully covered. It was the curse of having such a large lower body. I felt like my bulge was a little much, but I did feel really attractive. My pecs rounded out into large mounds of muscle and fat. My gut was usually always full of food as I took my job as his greedy man-beast very seriously. That morning was the start of September and at my weigh-in I had made it to nearly 230 pounds. I hardly recognized myself anymore, but I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger, stronger, and fatter—to be the ideal man of Amos, as well as myself.

We bought my suit as well as a very nice pair of orange trunks for Amos that went halfway up his muscular thighs. We made our way home to have dinner, and with the events of the day I wanted to outgrow my new swimsuit.

The night before his family would be coming over, he presented to me a chain collar and a lock. “It’s waterproof,” he said with a shy smile and red cheeks. “If you’d be willing, I’d like for you to wear this.”

I took it from him and draped it around my neck. The chain was thick and slightly cold. It felt heavy, but I liked the weight of it. I clicked it in place and grabbed the lock for a moment. He was turning me into a total badass. “I feel extra cool,” I said.

“I have the key,” he said. He pulled a much thinner chain from under his dress shirt, and I saw that on the end of it was a small key to the lock around my neck. “You’re mine, you badass.” We smiled at one another and then I had two thick gainer shakes.

I had to look my best for the party.

The next day he woke up early to fire up the grill. He would be making chicken wings, brats, burgers, and ribs. I was busy in the kitchen slicing fruit and making other side dishes. He wanted me to make macaroni and cheese when I told him how much butter and cheese my mother’s recipe required. “Oh, you need some of that,” he said. “I should get you to eat some of that every week. Then you’d really get some meat on those bones.”

His family would arrive at about noon. I was nervous, sure, but also kind of excited. Amos was an incredible guy, so his family had to be a good one. I wore my lime green trunks and a yellow tank. I was very vibrant.

Everything was ready at around eleven-thirty. We busied ourselves setting things up and his family arrived right on time. That seemed like a quality all of the Stanton’s possessed. His parents, Freddie and Kathy, were very nice, and tall. His mom was about my height and Freddie had to be at least 6’4” because he was taller than Amos. Amos had two younger brothers as well. The middle brother looked just like Amos and had a wife of his own. His name was Harris, and the youngest brother was named Bud. He was only two years younger than I was.

“Amos, so good to see you,” said Julia, the wife of Harris. “And it’s nice to meet you too, Russell.” I was surprised she already knew my name. I returned the sentiment before Amos interjected.

“The food is ready so let’s eat while it’s hot.” We all shuffled out to the patio and sat. The conversation was good, but Bud didn’t talk much. He seemed distant, but I took it as how I had been when I was still at home.

I ate a brat in three bites and before I could finish chewing another found its way to my plate. I had mac and cheese piled high on my plate along with other sides. Everyone had finished eating yet I was going strong. The conversations continued and things were going great.

Sitting in the patio chair and shoveling food into my mouth I felt the tank straining against my gut. I could even feel my gut on my lap. I loved how I felt. I loved that I was the biggest guy at the party. When everyone else was preoccupied Amos gave me a pat on the stomach.

“I think they really like you,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed my belly slowly. “But I wish they’d fucking leave so I could feed my boyfriend in peace.” I was semi-erect and tried to reign it in.

I thought about how when I was eating, I wasn’t as horny. “I’m gonna get the ice cream sandwiches,” I said. “Maybe your family will want some.” I made my way into the kitchen when I noticed Bud and Kathy talking on the sofa. They hadn’t noticed me entering.

“Mom, he’s like some beast,” Bud said. “Like, he wears chains and stuff. Who does that?”

“He’s only two years older than you, Bud,” she replied. “He also seems really sweet.”

“He’s only twenty-one? How?” Bud questioned in awe. “He could probably break Amos in half if he wanted. I bet they’re into some freaky shit.”

“Oh, stop it, Bud. Don’t swear and don’t talk about your brother and his boyfriend having sex.” I was slightly taken aback. I hadn’t considered the idea that Bud was so quiet because he didn’t care for me. I cleared my throat loudly and offered them some ice cream sandwiches.

They both looked surprised to see me and Mrs. Stanton was noticeably embarrassed.

“No,” Bud said quickly, surprisingly more flustered than his mom. “That’s okay.” I began to retreat back to the patio before he stopped me.

“What’s up?” I asked. He’d made his way over to me and he stood looking down at me slightly. Amos really came from a family of giants. He studied me closely and—I might have been sorely mistaken—but I felt like he was looking at me like how I normally looked at Amos. He admired me in some regard, and it was actually really cool.

“I’ll take two of those if that’d be okay.”

“Yeah, Bud,” I said. “You gotta eat big to get big.”

After that, Bud stuck to me like glue. He asked me about my diet and my workout regimen. I wasn’t as bold as Amos, so I gave him a heavily edited version of my routine. We all swam around and chatted. If I had to make a complaint, my swimsuit rode up a lot. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but I didn’t think the entire Stanton clan wanted a glimpse of my beefy ass cheeks.

It was a good time, and I was glad Amos allowed me to become such an intimate part of his life. I had even more fun after they all left. Amos told me he didn’t want to see any leftovers.

There weren’t any.

My life with Amos only continued to improve as time went on. I hadn’t made it home for the holidays like I initially told my family I would. I missed Christmas, New Years, and Easter. If I were to be honest with myself, I didn’t really want to see my family. I didn’t know how they’d react to my lifestyle changes.

“We’re worried about you,” my mother said to me over the phone in late April. It had been about a year since I had come to live with Amos.

“We talk every month,” I said, knowing where this conversation was going. “I just haven’t found a good time to come see you guys.”

“Well, Bobby is graduating next month, and I expect you to come home to celebrate your brother earning his Master’s.” Robert, who everyone called Bobby, was my middle brother. Terry was the oldest, and he had graduated from college five years ago. I loved my brothers, and I didn’t want Bobby to think I didn’t care about how hard he had been working.

“Mom, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’ll check my schedule.” This whole situation was making me anxious.

“Is it money, Russell?” she asked. “It’s okay if you need to move back home. It’s okay.”

“No, mom—it’s got nothing to do with money. Just text me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Everybody is going to be so excited,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “You must be starving out there working so hard. This is going to be the biggest celebration this family has seen in a while. I’ll make sure I’ve got all your favorite foods, baby. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay, mom. Talk to you later,” I said. She told me she loved me, and I returned the sentiment before hanging up the phone. I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling its bulk. I felt massive and tiny at the same time. I wished Amos was here, but he was working. He wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.

At my April weigh-in I was just over 300 pounds. After seeing that number on the scale both Amos and I sat astounded. I had nearly doubled my initial weight in a year. He sucked me off twice after that. We still hadn’t had anal sex yet, but I had the feeling it would be happening soon.

Amos was a very by the book kind of guy. He had brought me products to prep myself for anal, so things wouldn’t be a mess when we did actually have sex for the first time. I hoped I could satisfy him in that way. I wanted to be what he wanted. Especially after he invested so much into me.

I ate my lunch and did my workout. I had become so accustomed to my daily routine that I had a lot of free time. I’d go out and about occasionally, and I noticed people would watch me a little more than they used to. I wondered if my family would say anything, or just stare at me like the people on the street did.

Looking at myself in a mirror after my workout I took in my body as I did every day. My shoulders were broad, meeting in the middle at my thick neck. Amos said that my face had gotten fat. He said that my head and neck had become a singular entity, and that without my beard it would be hard to distinguish the two.

Amos said that the cheeks on my face rivaled the cheeks on my backside. “When you smile,” he had said. “You can barely see your eyes.” It was true. I had always gotten squinty when I smiled, but with the extra weight I carried it was even more extreme.

My body impressed Amos in a multitude of ways, and he had things to say about all of me. The way my tits sagged, though still firm with muscle. How my butt had ruined nearly every pair of pants he bought me. The immense size of my thighs and calves. He even had things to say about how thick my hands and feet had gotten. I was getting hard thinking about Amos, about how he’d grab me.

He got in around five, pink bakery box in tow. “Russ, I’m home,” he called as he entered the kitchen. I made my way to where he stood. I was in a purple jock, my body on full display for him.

“Welcome home,” I said, walking close to him, ready to receive affection. He wrapped me in his arms, and I felt everything I had been worried about fall to the wayside, if only for a moment.

“How’s my big guy today?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“Not good,” I said, dreading having to talk about my intended trip home. “I talked to my mom today. I have to go home for my brother’s graduation.”

“I know how nervous dealing with your family makes you,” he said, letting go of me and looking down at me. He smiled softly, trying his best to calm my nerves. “You had to see your family at some point. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

“But—but what if they’re mad, or they want me to move back home?” I hated when I acted this way. I felt whiny, burdensome.

“You plan on leaving me?” he asked.

“No, Sir,” I answered. “I never want to leave you.”

“Then they’ll just have to accept how much you’ve grown and the life you’ve set up for yourself.” I nodded. He was right. He always was. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I felt my face light up. I didn’t want to burden him with having to meet my family, not yet anyway. They’d be all over him, probably upset about my weight, not working, and being gay. “You would come with me, Amos?”

“Let me know the dates and I’ll take off from work.” I hugged him immediately, squeezing him much harder than I realized. He groaned loudly and I removed my arms from around him. He laughed, calming me even more. “You’ve got to be careful. You know you can break me in half.”

The next month Amos and I drove the two hours to my hometown. The entire ride he had me eating snacks. And I do mean the entire ride. Chips, trail mix, snack cakes, soda, sandwiches. When we pulled up outside of my parents’ place, I was next level bloated.

The first of the month was last week, and my weigh-in was somewhat disappointing. Maybe it was the stress of the visit, but I hadn’t been going as hard as I’d been the last couple of months. I couldn’t bring myself to eat my late-night snacks and I was barely getting through one gainer shake a day.

Amos didn’t say anything, but his lack of enthusiasm was like a dagger through the heart. I’d been working so hard, and I’d nearly doubled my starting weight in a year, but it didn’t feel like enough. I feared that if I continued to disappoint him, he’d look for someone who could better live up to his expectations.

“Do you want to grab the bags now or later?” Amos asked.

“We can come back for them later.” I wanted to make sure any potential escape was as swift as possible. There was no need to bring luggage into the house when we’d probably be leaving soon anyway.

We walked up the driveway to the front door, Amos behind me. My hands and feet were numb with cold, even though it was a sunny Friday afternoon in May. I was in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that probably shouldn’t have been so tight. You could see the outline of my belly button and my pierced nipples.

I stood frozen, staring at the doorbell. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t help feeling like some sort of freak, a disappointment. They wouldn’t accept me like this, and it felt ridiculous to welcome their disapproval. We shouldn’t have come all this way for something that could have been avoided. Maybe that was foolish of me, thinking I’d never have to see my family again, but it was better than this.

“Ring the bell,” Amos said softly. “Whatever happens, you know that you’ve got me. I promise.”

“Okay,” I replied, ringing the bell quickly before I chickened out. There was some slight shuffling, and then the door opened suddenly.

It was both of my parents, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. I think they both came to the door because they were expecting me. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year at this point. They were absolutely silent for much longer than could be considered normal.

“Uh, hey Mom. Hey Dad.”

My mother laughed awkwardly, turning towards my dad to exchange a glance before turning back to me. She looked behind me at Amos before she finally spoke.

“Well,” she said, laughing again. “Look at you.”

“Damn boy,” my dad added. “Your mom thought you were out there starving. You ain’t missed a meal since you left here.” Amos chuckled behind me. Of course he’d think that was funny. He was the reason I hadn’t missed any meals.

“Come in, boys,” my mom said. “Wait, where are your bags? Don’t tell me you aren’t staying.”

“They’re in the car,” I said, the warmth returning to my hands and feet. I was sure they’d have a lot of questions, and they’d probably talk about this for an hour as they laid next to each other before bed tonight, but they weren’t pushing me away. “I’ll grab them.”

I turned, so I could walk back down the driveway. “Damn, he got more ass than you,” my dad commented, patting my mom on the behind. Like my t-shirt, the sweats I wore outlined every curve of my body. The cheeks were slightly separated by the fabric, highlighting the heft of each. I looked up at Amos, who was smirking slightly. He really was enjoying my discomfort in this situation, the embarrassing comments from my father, the nervous glances from my mother. He was a bit of a sadist, and as weird as this whole situation was, I was kind of enjoying it too.

After bringing the bags into the foyer, it was obvious there were a bunch of other people in the house. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother loved celebrations, and this was my homecoming and my brother’s graduation. What better reasons to invite people over and throw a party?

Scattered throughout the living room were a bunch of my relatives. I saw my oldest brother Terry and his wife. She held their two-year old in her arms and was sporting a sizable baby bump. Bobby was wearing a sash that said “graduate” on it in gold lettering. His girlfriend was here too. I also noticed both sets of grandparents, some uncles, a few aunts, a plethora of cousins. They all looked at me like they’d spotted Bigfoot.

“Shit bro!” Bobby exclaimed. “You look like you ate your old self.” There was some laughter and nervous murmurs. I knew this was a make-or-break weekend. It was my reintroduction to my family, and I had to lay some things out on the table. In particular, I had to introduce Amos. I’m sure everyone was curious about the tall white guy who was towering over us all.

“It’s good to see everyone,” I started. “City life has been treating me well. This guy here is named Amos, and he and I are—we’re—uh, seeing each other.”

Nobody really said anything until my nephew, still in his mother’s arms, waved in our direction and said in his little voice, “Hi Amiss. I’m John.”

Amos returned the wave. “Nice to meet you, John.”

After that, some of my relatives came up to us and we talked for a few minutes. I excused the both of us and we made our way to my bedroom upstairs. We needed to set the bags down and have a moment to ourselves. I wondered what Amos would have to say about everything that happened.

I felt my body relax once the door was closed. After rummaging through his backpack, Amos just stood there, a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved collared shirt. He looked good even in casual clothing. His torso was long and lean, and the sleeves of the shirt hugged his arms seductively.

“Russ,” he said in a low voice. “This might not be the appropriate timing, but I need to fuck you.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Twenty of my family members were a floor below us, and this was the time he felt prepared to fuck me? He made his way closer to me, reaching out to squeeze one of my nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. Ever since the piercings healed a few months ago, they’d become an extra-sensitive source of arousal. I was already getting hard, and he’d barely touched me. “Amos, we can’t,” I whined.

“You don’t want this?” he asked. 

“I mean—Amos,” I said, trying to make a sensible decision. But his free hand found its way to my crotch, rubbing my dick gently through the fabric as he continued to work my nipple with his other hand. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back a bit.

“They all couldn’t believe their eyes,” Amos whispered, his voice clear and dripping with lust. Him wanting me so badly was making me feel valuable again. I wanted this more than anything, to be what he wanted. “Your dad doesn’t mince words, does he? ‘Damn, boy. You’ve got more ass than your momma.’”

He turned me around and we stood looking at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply needed to explore my body with his hands to let me know what he was thinking. The way his hands sat under my chest, holding each fatty pec in his strong hands, squeezing them, jiggling them. My nipples were as hard as my dick at this point, and I had no intention of stopping Amos anymore. Not like I ever really would’ve in the first place. He had the control. He always had, even when I thought I was making a choice, Amos was pulling the strings.

His hands caressed my stomach, cupping the bottom of my gut and holding the weight of it up before letting it drop. It was solid from the two hours of snacking, but it was usually firm. He squeezed it again and again in different sections, inspecting every piece of fat he’d managed to pack on my body.

He moved one hand away from my belly, and I could hear the buckle of his belt being undone. Then I felt his hardness pressing into my back, warm and incredibly stiff. I saw him slip a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from the front pocket of his jeans. He set them on the dresser before shimmying out of his pants. I could hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor so I knew his pants must have been around his ankles. He positioned his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugged gently, still pressing against me. I watched him closely in the mirror as he worked, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I had wanted this since the day we met, and it was really going to happen. He tried pulling the sweats down, but the fabric got stuck around my thighs. I wiggled a little, causing the sweatpants to drop lower and allowing me to spread my legs a little bit further apart.

He placed his hands on my hips and I leaned forward, resting my palms on the top of the dresser. He gave my ass a smack and I could feel the sting of his palm resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh god,” I breathed.

“To think you’ve gotten this big in a year,” he said. “It only makes me wonder how much bigger I can make you.”

“You want me to get bigger?” I asked, losing myself in the foreplay.

“I know you’re not that tall, but you could get to at least 400 pounds and get around fine.”

“425,” I countered.

“450.”

He reached for the bottle of lube and opened it effortlessly. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and his dick, coating his member completely before spreading my cheeks to have access to my asshole. Slowly, he touched me with one finger, sliding it in gently. He worked my hole with the one finger for a few moments before sliding in another. His breathing was deep and intense, his face serious.

“I’ve got to put it in, Russ,” he said, looking at my face in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

I just nodded. He held one cheek in his hand, his dick in the other. He guided himself inside of me, the tip entering me gently. He stayed that way for a moment, not moving a muscle. I knew it was so he wouldn’t hurt me, but I felt perfectly fine. I needed more. I needed all of him inside of me. I pushed my ass against his front, taking in a majority of his dick in the process.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered as I pounded my ass against his thighs. He gave my ass a loud slap. I was salivating. I could feel the pools of spit in my mouth, and I swallowed as not to make a mess. Every time Amos let me ejaculate this past year, some sort of dessert was involved. I couldn’t help but crave some sort of sweet treat. What I wouldn’t give for a doughnut or one of those Banana Cream Pie cupcakes. I pulled forward and pushed back again and again, his dick hitting what I could only assume to be my prostate. I was in a simple black jock, my dick barely cradled in the front cup, leaking pre-cum profusely. “Whoa, Russ. You don’t have to rush.”

“It feels so good, Amos,” I moaned. “I love your dick.” He just smirked, allowing me to continue my back-and-forth motion. We were at it for nearly ten minutes when Amos came. My dick was dribbling so much, when I went to reposition it, cum shot all over the mirror and dresser.

“Damn, Russ.”

“Amos, I’m hungry.”

We got cleaned up after that and headed back downstairs. I was utterly dickmatized. Whatever my family talked to me about went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to eat and get fucked again, but one of those things was too risky to attempt a second time, so I simply stuffed my face. Bobby walked up to me as I licked some chicken grease off my fingers. He just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked. I was closer to Bobby than my oldest brother, so I really was worried about what he had to say about this whole situation.

“You’re not really the little brother around here anymore, are you?”

“I guess not,” I answered, laughing myself. Leave it to him to make a joke. I appreciated it.

“You and the white dude—Amos,” he clarified, to show respect, “are into some freaky shit. You know we could kind of hear y’all thumping around up there, right?”

“Aw, well, that’s my bad, not his.” I did kind of take over up there. Hopefully they just heard the thumping and not anything we were saying.

“And I’m not judging,” he added, throwing up his hands. “You seem happier like this. He’s got to have something to do with that, yeah?”

Looking over at Amos, who was talking to Terry and his wife, I couldn’t help but notice that he fit in perfectly, even in a house full of people who were very different than he was. He did take care of me and make me feel valued. Reflecting on how long it took for us to actually meet up, I could kick myself for thinking that Amos could be anything less than amazing. He was my home now, my family. In one incredible year, my life would forever be changed for the better. And hey, maybe Amos would really get me to 450 (but seriously, that probably was less of sex-talk and more of a promise. Amos was always a man of his word).

“Yeah,” I said, “I feel like when I’m with him, it’s where I belong.”

The End!

[feeder86]

The Feeders' Fortress

It was the dirty floor against his face that Mike noticed first. His head felt fuzzy and the room was so incredibly dark. It was impossible to work out where he was. He stumbled groggily to his feet, realising that he was dressed only in his underwear. What the hell kind of party had he been to last night to wake up here? Then again, had he been to a party last night? His head was so disorganised.

Reaching around the space, Mike tried to find his clothes and, hopefully, his cell phone so that he could find some light. As he did so, he heard footsteps creeping outside of the room and, for the first time, a streak of light through the crack under the door.

“There’s another one in here!” cried a deep masculine voice as the door opened and Mike suddenly had a small torch shone straight into his face. “Same as us. Underwear. No clothes in sight.”

“What’s going on?” Mike asked indignantly.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” sighed another voice beside the person shining the torch. He reached out his hand and lowered the light so that Mike was no longer blinded. Where the light touched, Mike could see the dilapidated interior of the house he was in: filthy, boarded up and crumbling. Tired, dated pieces of furniture lay haphazardly around the edges of the room, some covered poorly with dust sheets.

“What is this place?” Mike mumbled, getting to his feet.

“Someone’s creepy idea of a joke, no doubt,” came another voice as the footsteps of the guys entered the room. “It looks like your classic haunted mansion. All the windows and doors are locked tight and we haven’t found the way out yet.”

“If there even is one,” replied a pessimistic voice.

“Of course there is,” disputed the guy holding the torch who had seemed to appoint himself the leader. “We got in here somehow, didn’t we? So there has to be a way out.”

The others sighed. None of them claimed to know how they had arrived, each arguing their alternative theories about why they were there. None of them had before. They were all strangers. But, to Mike, there was one clear detail that each of them had in common: outstandingly good looks.

Finn, holding the torch, was a quarterback for the local college team and, even in the limited lighting, Mike could tell that the guy was more strapping than anyone he had ever seen on the pitch. The person standing beside him was Oliver; even taller and toned to absolute perfection. Like Mike, he did some modelling whilst studying in college. Mike knew the agency that he worked for and, whilst the other two were arguing about which direction to search next, the pair discussed the surprising stresses they had encountered with certain jobs they had done. The only other guy was Rob, another football jock for a rival team of Finn’s, though neither of them claimed to know the other. He was built for clear functional athleticism, with the lightest six pack of all of them and a meaty, muscular butt. Delicious.

Even now, in this bizarre situation, Mike could feel himself getting aroused in their presence: these three gorgeous, practically naked boys. Together, they were calm, even jovial. They bolstered each other’s confidence, methodically searching the large building as if they were trying to hide the fact that they were silently terrified. There had to be answers to their questions somewhere in this building.

“What’s down there, do you think?” Oliver asked as they shone the torch down some stairs. 

Out of habit, Mike flicked the light switch, expecting nothing to happen, when suddenly, the whole room below lit up perfectly.

“Success!” roared Finn, heading straight down; soon followed by the others, at quite some pace.

What lay below was the most bizarre of sights: a small, neatly made up dining table, filled with tasty treats: cakes, doughnuts, cookies and pastries; all fresh and smelling incredible. Such a homely scene lightened the mood further, with Finn and Rob heading to sit down at the table and Mike following them, if only to hide the tightness in his crotch which would be clearly evident in this well lit room.

“I knew we’d be alright! This just proves it. It’s definitely some sort of prank,” Finn smiled, reaching out for one of the doughnuts.

Oliver stood to the side, surveying the scene with more scepticism. “Isn’t this a bit fucking weird?” he asked. “This whole place is a shit hole, and now this?” he pointed at the homely scene before him.

“Relax!” Finn scoffed at him, already chewing on a bite of the doughnut. “It tastes fine.”

Rob reached out next, picking up a pastry, now that Finn had sampled the goods. Meanwhile, Mike had his eye on one of the cupcakes, feeling surprisingly hungry after waking up here. Eventually, even Oliver followed them to the table,sitting down at the fourth chair, picking up a cookie and nibbling it with only a small amount of hesitancy.

Under the light, it was clear just how beautiful these guys all were. Mike found himself trying not to stare for fear that his erection may get even more severe if they all had to get up soon and explore the place some more. The mood was relaxed and surprisingly light-hearted as Finn reached for a second and third doughnut before any of the others had even finished their first chosen snack.

“Who do you think made all these?” Oliver asked the guys.

“Whoever it is pranking us,” Rob replied, scanning the room for cameras as he sat at the table.

Mike sat up nervously. He didn’t want to be on camera right now. Not with his erection as it was.

Mike suddenly felt a slight prod on his arm as Oliver looked at him seriously, pointing across to Finn. The movement caught Rob’s attention as well, until all three of them were gazing at a now motionless Finn, staring down at the table and seemingly stunned after finishing his third doughnut.

“Are you alright, buddy?” Rob asked, noting the sweat that was glistening on Finn’s face.

Finn looked up slowly until his eyes met with Mike’s right across the table from him. His jaw was slack as he picked himself up by leaning his strapping body on the table. Then, from out of nowhere, a giant burp erupted from his throat, right in front of Mike. It was so loud and deep, completely unnatural after such light snacks, making the three others stare across in panic.

“What the fuck?” Oliver asked, standing up in alarm, sensing immediately that something was wrong. It was then that Mike noticed that Finn was not as slim as he had thought; that for all his muscles, he was actually carrying a little paunch that looked bizarrely out of place.

FInn’s hips started to rock, like he was fucking some invisible girl in front of him, and, even in his loose fitting trunks, it was clear to Mike that the guy was also nursing an erection.

“What’s he doing?” Rob shouted; his eyes similarly caught by the shape of Finn’s stomach. Each time the guy rocked back and forth, the budding love handles at his sides seemed to swell more and more.

At some point, all three of them realised what was happening. It was the way Finn’s gut began to flutter and jiggle with the shaking. Fat was ballooning in his stomach, actually pushing it outwards. The relaxed fit of his underwear began to disappear as the gentle creases stretched out and the material tightened around him, spurred on by an obvious widening of his tight butt. It was then that Mike began to observe even Finn’s chest starting to succumb; his nipples pointing and a softness spreading into his pecs. It seemed to bloom and spread itself under his arms, softening up his biceps at the same time and swelling his neck; producing a shameful double chin.

Oliver was still the only one up, with Mike and Rob still stunned in their seats. Then, without warning, Rob suddenly bolted for the stairs, grabbing the torch at the same time.

“What do we do?” Oliver asked Mike in pure panic, clearly desperate to follow Rob and get the hell out of there.

Finn’s sweaty body glistened as fat spread throughout. The blubber began to pour itself over the tight waistband of the guy’s underwear, now digging in quite painfully. Mike could see the guy looking down at himself in shock and alarm: his beautiful body becoming more and more obese.

Mike had no answer for what was happening or what on Earth they were supposed to do about it. He could see Oliver looking back towards the dark stairs; no sign of Rob at all. More than once, Mike thought that Oliver might run off in fear as well. If he did, Mike decided he was going to run straight out with him.

A general widening seemed to take place in Finn’s body. The love handles pushed out to further extents and his hips swelled above the two extremely blubbery thighs. The guy’s cute underwear had allowed his large, sweaty glutes to slip out as the inflation took hold. Now the material began to tear; stretched as they were in every direction.

Within no time at all, Mike realised that Finn was now carrying an insane amount of fat on his body; 400 lbs? 450? His underwear were reduced to little more than rags, still dangling from a destroyed waistband; an entire sack of lard now filling Finn’s groin. 

Oliver bolted, quickly followed by a petrified Mike, throwing himself up the pitch-black stairs. “Wait up!” he cried out in horror, wincing as his feet stepped over the debris and dust. All he could do was follow the sounds of Oliver’s lightning footsteps. 

Suddenly, Mike felt himself bumping straight into Oliver, knocking them both to the floor.

“Watch it!” Oliver grumbled. “What the hell were you running for? We can barely see a thing!”

Mike’s mouth filled with all the things he wanted to say and then, just as quickly as they arrived, nothing. Why was he running? Had something scared him? No. He would have remembered that. He shuffled to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling rather silly. “I must have just been trying to catch you up.”

Oliver shushed him and the pair listened intently as voices came from another wing of the enormous house. They began stepping in the same direction, noticing faint glows of the torch around one corner.

“But this is the way I came in!” argued a new voice. “The door was open, and now…” he shouted, banging forcefully on what appeared to be the front door.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Oliver bellowed, finally spotting Rob standing next to a police officer. 

The relief that Mike felt was indescribable. Tall, built and appearing nothing but strong and capable, the police officer turned to face them both, shining a second torch in their faces.

“Is this all of you?” the cop asked. 

“No, there’s another guy,” Rob mumbled, as if he couldn’t quite remember exactly. “Finn. He’s downstairs somewhere. He was eating some food we found,” he continued; his voice wispy, like he was trying to piece something together. He’s pretty big and heavy though. I don’t suppose he wants to go walking all around this place at that size.”

Mike nodded, realising that Rob was probably right. That must have been why Finn stayed down in the basement. 

“Well, this door has locked behind me. I don’t have any signal on my cell phone and there doesn’t seem to be any reception for me to contact the station on my radio,” the cop explained grumpily. “I guess you had better take me to see this Finn guy so that I can check on him too,” he finally decided, slamming into the heavy door one final time, just in case it budged at all. 

Oliver and Mike took one torch, whilst the cop and Rob walked ahead with the other.

“Do you think he’s a real cop?” Oliver whispered to Mike. “This whole thing just seems to be getting weirder and weirder, don’t you think?”

Mike pondered the idea. He’d not imagined that the cop was not genuine. But Oliver was right. Here he was, wandering around, almost naked in an abandoned mansion with no idea how late at night it was. Absolutely anything was possible.

“Where exactly are we?” he shouted ahead to the cop. “How did you know to come looking here?”

The cop began explaining the exact location of the mansion. “This old place has been crumbling for years,” the guy stated, after informing them all how far out of the city they were right now. “We used to get calls about trespassers quite a lot, but that all stopped about six months ago. Until tonight.”

In the dim light, Mike could feel Oliver looking at him from the side. The guy wasn’t trusting a word that was coming out of the cop’s mouth. 

“Something’s up with Rob,” Oliver whispered a few moments later, when they had slowed their pace to allow the other two to go even further ahead, in search of the stairs to the basement. “Have you noticed how much he is sweating?”

Mike shone the light a little more on Rob. Oliver’s observations were spot on. The guy’s broad back was glistening with sweat, running down his back and drenching into his boxers, all down his butt crack. Something about it all seemed so familiar, although Mike couldn’t put his finger on why. Was this a bad sign? Was it something to be feared?

“We need to keep our distance from him,” Oliver decided, pulling Mike back a little bit more to let the cop and Rob get even more ahead of them. They kept a slow pace behind and waited as the pair eventually found the staircase down to the basement, heading straight down.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked, feeling that Oliver’s senses were sharper than his own; his instincts better.

Oliver rubbed his face, clearly stressed. “I don’t know!” he sighed. “But something tells me it’s going to be me and you finding our way out of here. I don’t trust that cop, and as for Rob…” he whispered. “I just have this really bad feeling.”

Suddenly, the cop was shouting at the top of his voice from the basement, startling both Oliver and Mike.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he blasted. “What are you doing?”

Racing down, Oliver took the lead, standing on the staircase in front of Mike as they looked on at the scene. Rob’s body was rocking and shaking, his tight abs suddenly swollen and buried. The cop stood crouched to the side, his gun out and seemingly very afraid. Whatever was taking over Rob had a very firm grip on his body; thrashing him about as his stomach continued to grow.

In those moments, Mike suddenly remembered what he had witnessed happening to Finn. How could he ever have forgotten? There Finn was, snoozing on the floor, encased in mountains of fresh fat.

“What’s going on?” the cop demanded of Oliver and Mike.

“The food!” Mike mumbled, seeing it all there, continuing to invite them in. “There’s something in the food!” he stated with more certainty as Rob’s fine torso began to be consumed with an onslaught of blubber, swelling into his pecs and rounding out his stomach so that it pushed out further and further. The guy was panicking, managing to waddle around as his body shook, and he gazed at all the food that Mike was now blaming. Just what was it doing to him?

“But we ate the food as well,” Oliver shot back, terrified and transfixed as Rob’s butt widened in those cute little boxers of his; fat starting to crease the skin on his back and love handles swelling out further every single second. The butt crack began to peak out as the glutes grew; little more than an inch to begin with, then more and more; until his super sized butt was almost entirely outside of the underwear. That was when it ripped at the weaker stitching between his lardy legs and the material began to deteriorate quickly; all the elastic stretched beyond its capacity.

Mike put a comforting hand on Oliver’s strong shoulder, hoping to ease his worries in any way that he could.

The cop had fallen to the ground, backing up into the corner by the stairs and holding his gun out still; no longer so big, strong and tough.

Oliver reached his hand up and lovingly held Mike’s own hand upon his shoulder. Despite everything, the sensation of Oliver’s touch was all Mike needed.

Rob had fallen onto the floor, the transformation seemingly at an end, and a deathly silence filled the room.

“We’re fucked!” Oliver sighed. “Absolutely fucked!” He looked at Mike, his eyes full of concern for him. “Will it be us next, do you think?” he asked Mike, still holding his hand sweetly.

At that moment, Mike felt so completely smitten. Yet he nodded. “I think so,” he agreed sadly.

“What the hell are you on about?” the cop demanded of them both, still clearly terrified from what he had just seen. “Food can’t do that to someone! Not like that, anyway.”

“There’s no other way to explain it,” Oliver shrugged. “It took Finn first because he had eaten the most. Now Rob…”

The police officer stared hard at the two enormously fat guys on the floor and then looked in amazement at all the food still resting on the table. But then, his eyes widened even further and he stood up in horror. “Those doughnuts!” he shouted, looking straight at the unusually colourful and sprinkled treats on the table. “There was one just like it on my desk earlier! I thought it was from one of my colleagues.”

Mike and Oliver looked at each other with worry. Was the guy who was here to rescue them, actually just another victim? 

“But did you eat it?” Oliver demanded of him.

“Yes, I ate it!” the cop shouted back, getting angry now. He seemed to feel faint, getting hot under the collar and putting back his gun so that he could take off his shirt.

Again, Mike and Oliver looked at each other. Why was the cop getting so sweaty all of a sudden? They watched as he shuffled around, leaning against the side, kicking off his shoes and even pulling off his socks, as if every piece of clothing was irritating his skin.

“Um, Sir…” Oliver cried out awkwardly as the cop untied his belt, discarding even his gun without a care, then unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor.

In this state, it was clear to see what the cop had had in common with the four of them; young, handsome and highly athletic as he clearly was.

“Oh, no!” the cop mumbled, tensing all the muscles in his strapping body.

“What’s happening?” Oliver whispered to Mike.

“It must be trying to take him,” Mike shot back. “I think he’s actually trying to fight it.”

Both Mike and Oliver climbed two steps further up the stairs, abandoning the cop and knowing that there was nothing they could do to help him now. The gorgeous officer was grunting and bracing himself against the wall. The sounds he was making reminded Mike of the guys he had seen in the gym trying to lift extremely heavy weights.

“I can’t watch!” Mike whispered to Oliver, who had taken a further step up to sit beside him on the stairs and kindly draped his arm over Mike’s shoulders.

“We must,” Oliver whispered back. “We’ve got to see if he can do it. Who knows, right?”

“Maybe he can fight it off,” Mike agreed hopefully.

“Shit,” Oliver replied, quickly shutting Mike down. “Look at his abs. Can you see? The skin around them is starting to bloat up.”

Oliver leaned his head against Mike’s and rubbed his back soothingly. The arousal Mike felt was spiking once again and he found himself momentarily lost, even as the cop battled on only a few feet away.

“It’s a battle that cannot be won. This guy only got married last year,” Oliver continued, as they both looked across at the police officer. “Yet he’s already cheating on his wife with a new recruit at his station. That’s why he ate the doughnut. He thought it was from her.”

Oliver’s voice was so soothing and intense. Mike felt as though he could sit there all day long admiring the perfect man beside him. But, what was he actually saying? Mike had to replay it in his head, before the obvious question dawned in him. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“His secret girlfriend says she can’t resist those tight little buns of his,” Oliver whispered teasingly, as if trying to hold back a laugh. “Not so tight anymore. Wouldn’t you agree, Mike?” he asked; the pair of them watching as the cop growled loudly in desperation to hold back whatever force was taking him. But Oliver was right; slowly, but surely, the guy’s butt had started to develop some extra meat to it, rounding the glutes in a way that only fat ever could.

“What are you saying?” Mike asked, feeling Oliver’s presence becoming more powerful. 

“Shh,” Oliver soothed, rubbing Mike’s back and continuing to lean his head against his, forcing them both to watch the action in front of them. “We can’t have a cop that handsome walking around, can we?”

Mike’s heartbeat rose to new heights. The person who was controlling all of this had been with him the entire time. His body tensed, making Oliver sigh in happiness as he stuck close to him on that step.

“I love this bit!” Oliver continued whispering, as if telling Mike a bedtime story. “Can you see how he’s trying to hold his breath? He thinks he can force it back down, but he can’t. The formula has now spread into every cell in his body.”

Even with the officer trying to hold on tight, a slow, insidious tire of fat was gently forming over his abs and budding softness grew into love handles. The effort of holding his breath was taking it out of him; his eyes were screaming for release and cheeks had filled with air. Now his eyes were shutting tight, as if to concentrate even more, when a tiny burst of air slipped through his lips like a leaking pipe; more and more, until the floodgates had opened and he had to let it all go; sucking up a great big chestful of air and then burping like never before; all control stripped from him.

That brief pause in the guy’s attention was seemingly all this formula had needed to take control. The hips began thrashing about with surprising violence, with his stomach and rear inflating with remarkable speed; as if making up for lost time.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Oliver asked, kissing Mike sweetly on the side of his head. “So much fat! The thighs, the chest and the arms!” There was such a thrill in his quiet voice, as if he was deliberately controlling his elation to creep Mike out even more.

“Why are you doing this?” Mike asked; eyes still fixed on the ballooning cop as his jawline disappeared under the building flesh in his neck and chin, and blossoming into his cheeks.

“Because I can… And because I want to,” Oliver quietly replied, as he continued to stroke Mike’s back. “Look at him!” he cooed. “Pecs are gone already!”

Mike watched as the officer’s nipples started to bounce and his thick thighs swelled outwards, blowing up his butt to a size that was almost disproportionate to his frame.

“I wonder what his girlfriend will say about him now,” Oliver joked, knowing that Mike would be looking at exactly the same thing. “A disgusting, overfed, fat ass like that!” he whispered gently into Mike’s ear, making every part of the boy tingle with a baffling excitement. “You’re going to be a fat boy, just like him soon…” the devil whispered into his ear.

Mike wanted to get up and run, but being so close to Oliver felt like something he had longed for his entire life. Was this what love felt like? This yearning to be with someone, no matter what?”

Oliver began to caress the tip of Mike’s throbbing hardness under his underwear. “How exciting for you. A whole new life for yourself as one of my fatties,” he teased, turning his head so that he could whisper directly into Mike’s ear as he watched the cop continuing to become even more extremely obese, lose his balance and slide against the wall; landing with a splat on his enormously overgrown backside. Yet, even sitting down, his butt and thighs continued to spread out onto the floor; the rolls and blubber that decorated his torso, softening and spreading; folds deepening every second. 

Then, just like that, the cop had fallen asleep; his revoltingly obese body resting after the dramatic trauma it had just endured. Mike gasped, but not because of the sight in front of him. It was Oliver, continuing to massage his erection. He was brought so close to climaxing, that when Oliver brought his lips towards him, Mike moved swiftly to meet them in a deep, passionate kiss.

As they came out of the kiss, Oliver gently stroked Mike’s hair back from his face. “I’ve so enjoyed our time together,” he smiled with delight. “You’ve been so entertaining, from the very start.”

Mike smiled back, in awe of the amazing man who was giving him all the attention he could ever wish.

Oliver brought his nose close to Mike’s neck and sniffed in deeply all the way up to the top of his head. “I can smell my formula inside of you!” he breathed with genuine eroticism at the thought. “It’s getting ready to take you!”

Oliver took Mike by the hand and stood him up. The pair came down the stairs, stepping over the gigantic cop’s outstretched legs and into the light properly. There was not a single part of Mike that wanted to resist.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” Oliver asked, pulling the underwear down so that they dropped around Mike’s feet; his hardness springing out with an almost embarrassing enthusiasm “You’ve been such a good boy, this whole time. I picked the cop as the one who would be able to hold out the longest, but I’m so glad that it was you. Such a handsome boy!” he marvelled, stroking Mike’s face. “When I saw you in that magazine, I knew I had to take you.”

“I’m all yours!” Mike spluttered lustfully back; for some reason, only wanting Oliver to touch him again like he had on the stairs.

“Do you really mean that?” Oliver asked, barely concealing a grin behind those innocent looking eyes.

“I do!” Mike nodded. “I would do anything for you!”

“Then prove it,” Oliver snapped. “Don’t make me wait for you. Take another piece from the table and overdose on my formula just like that first idiot did,” he ordered. “Set my beautiful formula into action!”

Inexplicably, Mike’s feet were taking him towards the table. If this was the way to please Oliver, he needed to show him that he could do it. He grabbed at a doughnut and made to push it towards his mouth. However, just as he almost made it, Mike’s hand stopped and tried to push back. There was some invisible, subconscious part of his brain, still active and working, despite the fogginess that was clouding everything else.

Oliver smirked, as if he knew exactly what was going on; why Mike’s hand was not letting him eat. He seized the guy’s wrist and pushed it forwards with remarkable strength as Mike made every effort to keep his mouth wide open and let it fall onto his tongue. He bit down, watched carefully by Oliver, standing in front of him, smiling victoriously,

By the second bite, Mike felt his jaw slacken and stop working. A rumbling burp rolled from his throat, entirely unchallenged. The haze around him seemed to have grown more intense. Oliver was still in front of him, but circling around like a sergeant major conducting an inspection, or a killer whale startling its prey. It was only when he heard the man laughing that Mike knew his hips had begun to rock. He had no idea how the cop had tried to fight it off. The autonomous nature of whatever process this was, seemed entirely beyond his understanding. A warmth was filling his body; building and strengthening. Then that warmth seemed to spread itself across those areas that Mike had seen on the other guys: his stomach felt almost red hot, whilst his butt and legs were tingling and changing rapidly.

Oliver’s hands were seizing upon him, grabbing and pinching parts of his body that Mike didn’t even know existed. Mike tried to speak, to ask Oliver if it was working, but his mouth could not shape the words. Only a groan made it out, shaken and rocked by the vibrations of his instantaneously transforming body. 

Waves of fat began to bounce and crash into each other as Mike felt fresh flesh developing all over his body. A few seconds in, he had thought that Oliver had grabbed at his hardness again. However, he soon realised that it was the tip of his penis slapping against an enormous roll of fat that had invaded his torso. He looked down, seeing the remarkable width of his squishy stomach and the strange pointing of his nipples.

Oliver’s voice was far from soothing now. He was shouting and calling him out on his grotesquely overfed body; telling him how greedy he was, or likening him to a pig. He even oinked triumphantly right down Mike’s ear. 

The body that Mike was in no longer felt like his own anymore. His whole being had been transported into that of something new. The space that he occupied was incredible, surging outwards more and more. He lost his balance, feeling his giant self being collected by Oliver’s unnaturally strong arms as he was gently lowered to the ground.

Mike got a look at his disgusting, blubbery physique, wondering how he would ever use it.  How could he do anything with that enormous belly in the way? How could he get himself up the stairs to his apartment? He’d certainly never squeeze himself into his tiny shower, or find any clothes at regular stores to cover himself up with.

“Goodnight, Fat Boy!” Oiver sang as Mike felt his eyes getting heavy. He knew he'd never see Oliver again. He’d served his purpose. He’d entertained. Now came the sleep that would erase everything from his mind. The factory reset that would prepare him for his life as one of Oliver’s fat boys.

[fictionalgainer]

Max's weight gain story summary (Patreon story)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The remainder is available on Patreon !

[originalfatfiction]

Big Oak

I was in homeroom when Mrs. Drummond introduced Aidan Ashford. I’d never forget the first time I saw his face. He was so attractive it was almost unreal—short, slender, a sexy mouth. This dude was God-like, with immaculate skin, the same color as toasted almonds, and dark curly hair. He reminded me of Chad from High School Musical. I’d always had a thing for Corbin Bleu. His eyes were brown and somewhat sad. He looked at his feet nervously, and it made me feel for him. It must’ve sucked to transfer schools two months into senior year, as we were already in the middle of October. His pain was my gain though. It was about time I got some new eye candy to look at, and he was downright delectable. I was working myself up thinking about him, my mind already running a million different scenarios involving our non-existent relationship. I felt my neck go hot and I shifted in my desk.

I hated school, and not because I was dumb or anything. It was the building itself, not built for guys of my stature. In every class the desks were the same. Small. Cramped. Uncomfortable. (I liked the classrooms that used tables instead of traditional desks). For people my size, they were like torture devices. I was 6'6” and 365—okay, 375 pounds. My size was good for football, but other than that I hated it. Desks were never going to get more comfortable, grocery bills were never going to get any lower, and I was never going to get a date. I didn’t look like what gay men wanted. I was too big and too not white.

Everyone waited for him to say something—anything—but he didn’t. He saw the empty desk next to me and sat down. He sat very properly, his spine straight and pressed against the back of the desk chair. I turned to him to say hello.

“Hi, my name is Oakley,” I said. He looked at me nervously, eyes pained. He seemed a bit off, and it was a little worrisome. Maybe he’d had a rough morning. It was his first day after all.

“Do you need help with anything?” I asked. He shook his head no. “Like where your classes are, or how your schedule works?” He shook his head no again. He didn't like me. I thought I’d finally found another gay black guy; my current options were abysmal, few and far between. When I turned eighteen at the start of September, I immediately downloaded all the gay apps, and it did nothing for my self-esteem. I came to realize I was going to be nothing more than a fetish. I was a one-time hook-up that people didn’t want to tell their friends and family about. I never got very far with any of the guys that talked to me online. And now there was Aidan. In the thirty seconds we’d spent sitting next to one another I’d managed to plan out our entire lives together only to have my glorious future ripped from under me.  

I knew he likely wasn’t into me because I was so fat. It wasn’t like I was squishy fat or anything, just really solid, with a big belly and thick limbs. And okay, maybe I was a little squishy, but I hoped he could like me for my sparkling personality, and not what I looked like. I sighed and turned towards the front of the classroom. Who was I kidding? My personality wasn’t sparkling enough to get a guy like Aidan to be interested in me. I was deluding myself from the start thinking he’d want to date a beast.

I thought I could get the new boy out of my mind, but he ended up being in all of my classes. All of them. Every. Single. One. I was even paired with him in AP Bio. How could we work together when he didn’t even want to talk to me? When the teacher told him that we’d be working together I saw him wince. Whether it was disgust or just regular old disappointment I was unsure, but it didn’t make me feel good. I could have died.

“Big Oak!” Ah, Big Oak, my nickname since elementary school. I’d grown to hate it with a passion. I didn't like being identified as the big guy. I wanted to be the hot guy, the handsome guy. But I was the big guy, and Handsome Oak just didn’t have the same ring to it. “Hurry up! Come on!” The football team waved me over to our table, where we’d act obnoxiously, drawing the attention of the cafeteria for the duration of the lunch period. I had a tray loaded with food and spotted Aidan sitting by the garbage cans, alone. I knew he didn't like me, even as a potential friend, but I shook my head no at the team and made my way over to his table.

“Aidan, come sit with me and the team,” I offered. I thought it was a nice gesture, considering it was basically an instant pass to the in-crowd. I didn’t particularly care about popularity, but it was nice being cool with a lot of people. He shook his head no. That was shocking. Did he really not care about fitting in and making friends at a new school? This guy was so interesting, never doing what I expected of him, and it did nothing but make me all the more intrigued. “Well, I'll sit with you.” I sat down, feeling my gut hit the table. I sighed silently.

He was just watching me eat and I felt really embarrassed, considering I hadn't planned on sitting with him. The team saw how much I ate, but I guess it must have shocked Aidan. He was eating like a regular sized human being. All he had on his lunch tray was a grilled cheese, yogurt, a fruit salad, and a granola bar. God, I wished I could eat like that. Rabbit food, my dad would call it.

“Do you like it here?” I asked, the silence killing me. He stopped eating, pushing his tray forward towards the middle of the table. He shrugged his shoulders, looking at me cautiously.

“It’s a pretty good school,” I said, trying to make conversation. “Did you go to one of the other high schools in the area or did your family just move here?” He didn’t answer me. I let the silence fill the space between us once again. I bit into one of my meatball subs, marinara dripping out onto the top of my gut, staining my shirt. “Ah, shit,” I mumbled. He smirked at me and it was terrible. I was the sloppy fat guy now. “You think that’s funny?” I asked, trying to sound flirtatious.

He stopped smiling, averting his eyes from me. He shook his head no. Did he think I was mad at him or something?

“Happens more often than I’d like to admit,” I said. “A lot of people laugh at me when I’m eating. It kinda makes me feel bad. Not that I’m mad at you for laughing at me. Fuck, I’m talking way too much.” I laughed nervously. Having to carry a conversation all alone was really hard, especially when I considered the fact he probably didn’t want to be conversing with me in the first place.

“Am—am I bothering you?” I asked, regretting it almost immediately. To be completely honest, I didn’t want a negative response. I already felt like I was bothering him. That was my answer. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath asking. He looked down at his hands, but other than that he didn't move. “Man, I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you.” He looked up at me, biting his lip nervously, and shook his head no.

No? I smiled at him, feeling good. He said I wasn’t bothering him! He got up and dumped his tray in the garbage cans about five feet from where we sat. He turned towards me and with slight trepidation waved goodbye. We still had like forty minutes left in the lunch period, so I went to sit with the guys on the team.

After that I was on cloud nine. I didn’t care about my sauce stain and happily demolished the rest of my lunch. I kept my distance for the rest of the day though, not wanting to push my luck so immediately after a success. However, the more I thought about it, the more I came to the realization that I wouldn’t get anywhere if I weren’t persistent. I decided I would talk to him a lot more—well, kind of talk to him a lot more. It wouldn’t be much of a conversation if all he did was nod his head.

“Yo Aidan,” I called. It was the next morning, before homeroom. He stiffened up straight as I said his name. Maybe I had been wrong about that head nod. Maybe I was bothering him.

No.

I had to consider the possibility that maybe I was just being too self-conscious. I had to be confident or things would never go my way in the romance department. Though it wasn’t easy to feign confidence when talking to Aidan because he made my knees weak and my palms extra sweaty. I could feel my tongue turning into mush whenever I tried to speak. Just being around him got me flustered. I had goosebumps for crying out loud.

It was hard to believe someone so small could make me want to run and hide. He was maybe 5’7” on a good day and 150 pounds soaking wet, and something about that was really turning me on. Just standing so close to him, my shadow slightly eclipsed him. From an outside perspective I probably looked like the Big Bad Wolf about to chow down on Little Red.

“Are you not able to talk?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t some sort of faux pas. He shook his head yes. That meant he knew sign language, right? I could learn. I would learn!

“Okay, that’s fine. Yes or no questions for now,” I said, making sure to sound encouraging. “Do you want to sit with me and the team at lunch today?” His eyes widened—in fear? I thought he’d be excited. He closed his locker and hurried off to homeroom. He looked back at me over his shoulder, like he wanted to make sure I wasn’t chasing him or something. Was I coming on too strong?

I went to sit with him again at lunch, but he didn't show. It made me so irrationally angry. It wasn’t that I was upset with him, but with myself. All I could think about was how I could just make Aidan do what I wanted; I was bigger than him. What could he do to stop me? I could walk up to him and say, “Aidan, you’re my boyfriend now, got it?” I hated thinking like that. It was creepy as fuck. What if he wasn’t even gay?

What. If. He. Wasn’t. Even. Gay.

I’d been working under an assumption. I could be barking up the wrong tree coming off as a total basket case. Getting confirmation of that should’ve been step one. I made up my mind that the next chance I got, I’d ask him.

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded yes tentatively. The class after lunch had just ended, and we were on our way to our next period. I was definitely thirsty, trying to form any sort of connection I could with Aidan so that maybe I could win him over.

Suddenly I realized that I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t just ask him if he was gay. I was really new to the whole dating thing. I didn’t know how other gay people could find partners. What if he preferred to be discreet? What if he wasn’t out yet? We were in the middle of the hallway surrounded by other people. I had jumped the gun and now I was awkwardly walking next to him taking far too long to ask him my question. My mouth turned to mush again, and I started sweating. Fuck, I didn’t have a Plan B.

“Are you gay?” I blurted out in what I hoped was a whisper, trying to keep this conversation as private as I could in the crowded hallway.

He looked over at me seriously, like he was trying to see what I was thinking. My mom would say he was reading my aura. I grossed him out. I just knew I did. He wasn’t nodding or anything. This huge fat guy was coming on to him, so I guess this reaction was to be expected. He did a complete 180, running through the jam-packed corridor away from me and in the opposite direction of our next class. Fuck. I couldn't catch up to him. I could if I just knocked everyone over, like on the football field, but that would get me in trouble. Besides, that was just an idiotic plan overall. I guess that was my answer.

He didn't show up the next day, and when he did resurface, it was Friday. I saw him in homeroom, and he was obviously trying to avoid me. He wouldn’t even look in my direction. I didn't even get a head nod when I asked if he had been sick.

At lunch I found myself compelled to seek him out again. I needed him to know I wasn’t going to be weird and gay anymore. I had to put an end to this awkwardness, let him know we could still be friends, and move on with my loveless existence. I saw he had bought some fries and a soda. He was leaving the cafeteria, so I followed him. I called his name and he bolted, but I was ready for him. I caught up just in time and grabbed his arm. He dropped his soda, spilling its lemon-lime goodness on the linoleum; his fries were scattered across the hallway tiles. “Shit, I—I’ll get you some more fries,” I said as he tried yanking his arm free. I pulled him into the nearest bathroom so we could talk, but I had to grab awfully hard so I could pull him in.

I could see his eyes getting all watery and I was confused. This wasn’t something to cry over. I was the one getting his heart broken, not him. I saw his forearm was bruised and I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t think I grabbed him that hard, but I must’ve. I wasn’t thinking. I was just a giant, marinara-stained, homosexual monster. “I—I just wanted to talk to you,” I said like a fucking dumb puppy or some shit. He was holding his arm into his body as he sat on the floor, tears finally falling over onto his cheeks. “Please, stop crying.”

“Ah,” he whimpered as he exhaled slowly.

“Please Aidan, I’m sorry.” He had been panicking. I had this guy in a panic. “I didn't mean to. Let me help you up.” I went to grab his hand to help him off the floor. He crawled towards the door and I grabbed his leg and dragged him back in. I should have just let him go. I didn't know what I was thinking. He started thrashing his legs around and I pinned them down, along with his arms. “I just wanted to talk to you,” I reiterated like it mattered in the current state of things. Taking a moment to assess the situation, I realized it looked like I was about to do something awful to him.

“Pl—please don't beat me up,” he sobbed, pleaded really. It wasn't like he was calling for help. He just really wanted me to let him go.

Wait, had he just talked? I was so shocked that I released him from my grasp. He thought I was going to beat him up? He scurried over to the exit and ran out of the bathroom. I wanted to follow him, but I remained on the other side of the door.

He didn’t show up for the rest of our classes. I freaked him out so bad I had my doubts he’d ever come to school again.

Practice that afternoon dragged on and on and I was pretty hungry afterwards. We had a game scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, a Saturday. I usually performed my best at these pre-game practices, but I totally sucked today. I could only think about Aidan. He’d never talk to me again, or for the first time for that matter. I guess I could count him yelling for me not to beat him up as our first conversation where he used words instead of head nods. Why had he lied about being mute? The mystery of this guy was consuming me.

A couple of guys on the team invited me out to the mall. Even though I wasn’t really in the mood, I said I’d go. Being the fat fuck that I was, all it took was a “Big Oak, you know we’re gonna hit up the food court.”

I met up with them between the Sbarro and the Panda Express. I wouldn’t be expected home until later. I hadn’t eaten much at lunch after the whole Aidan-Bathroom debacle, so I was prepared to eat my feelings. We all ate a lot, but I ate the most every time, hands down. I had a couple slices of pizza, some fries, a double cheeseburger, an orange chicken meal, and a milkshake.

I was eating so much that the rest of the guys had already finished their food. They sat talking to one another as I stuffed my face. I’d normally be embarrassed, but I just kept at it. I ate whatever leftovers they had, and I still wanted more. The food was making me feel a little bit better. “I’m getting some Taco Bell,” I said, standing.

“You sure, Big Oak?” Kevin, our quarterback, asked me. His eyes traveled from my face to my gut. I looked down as well. My sweatshirt had ridden up, exposing the lower half of my stomach and my belly button. I tugged at it, covering the exposed flesh.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure. You guys can just meet me back here when you’re done if you want.”

“We’ll wait,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to miss the show, right guys?” They all laughed, and it made me feel pretty lousy. I was a gross joke to be laughed at. As good as the food had made me feel, I was now feeling worse than before.

“Hurry up, Pig Oak,” Mike, one of the wide receivers, added, still laughing. This just made everyone else laugh even harder. I wanted to go home. This wasn’t how I wanted to be treated, but it felt like I deserved it. I was a pig. Thinking about all the stuff I just ate was proof of that.

I started to laugh along with them, not wanting them to know they’d hurt my feelings. “Shut your mouth, Mike,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. “I may be a pig, but at least I don’t have a pencil dick.” That did it. The focus of attention had shifted from me to Pencil Dick Mike. Everyone had seen those nudes that got sent around last year. They all howled with laughter and I walked off towards the Taco Bell. I ordered six Doritos Locos Tacos, supreme.

The guys ignored me while I ate and then it was time to mall walk. In our suburb this was just how teenagers spent their time. There wasn’t much else to do in a big group. We walked around and I spent a good hour watching them get phone numbers. I was beyond bored and ready to go home, especially when they made us go into the arcade. We hadn’t been in this place since ninth grade. I sucked at arcade games back then, so I knew I was probably going to suck even worse now. I couldn’t even play the fun racing games considering I was the size of a house.

“Oak, isn't that the freak who can't talk?” Kevin asked.

“I think he can talk,” I said, looking at Aidan. “He just chooses not to.” He hadn’t noticed us yet, as he was busy restocking some of the prizes. He worked here at Game Explosion. I had to remember that. His hair was pulled back in a big halo of dark curls. He had on a bright neon, teal employee t-shirt. The color of the shirt just highlighted his beautiful bronze skin. He looked like some sort of God. He emptied fun size packages of candy into a larger bin. He was making me want to eat candy off of his body. Even my sexual fantasies involved food.

“Wanna make him talk?” Mike asked, smiling wickedly. Some of the other guys laughed at this, affirming they thought it’d be fun to fuck with him.

“No, let’s leave him alone,” I said. “He’s working and we don’t want to get him fired or something.”

“You must hate pussy so much because you are one,” Mike goaded. They all knew I was gay, and they’d make the occasional joke. I didn't care all that much, not really. It was just like earlier with the fat jokes. It was just how the guys on the team interacted with one another. I didn’t think there was anything truly malicious about it. It was just how we were supposed to show our friendship.

“We all know why you hate pussy, Pencil Dick,” I shot back, my heart not a hundred percent in it. They ignored my response and continued to push the whole Aidan thing.

“Make him talk,” Kevin continued to instigate. “We’ve seen you talking to him before.”

 “Why? There’s legit no reason to.” I didn't want to bother Aidan anymore. I’d done enough to him already.

“You’re being a real fag about this,” Mike added. This gave Peter and Carter enough to start in on me as well. Before long, the four of them had peer pressured me enough to go over to him. I was trying to tell myself this was to help Aidan. If I were leading the group, I could control the situation to produce the least painful outcome.

“Fine, whatever,” I agreed. I walked up to the counter that had all the arcade prizes. I never had enough tickets to win anything cool. He looked up from his work at me, his eyes getting that deer-in-the-headlights look. There was no better comparison. He was a deer, so fragile and delicate and beautiful. And I was a fucking grizzly bear with a bunch of other grizzly bears surrounding him. Aidan could see the rest of the guys behind me; he took a few steps back, bumping into the shelves with the stuffed animals. A few of them rained down around him, but he paid them no mind. “Hey Aidan,” I said as nonthreateningly as possible. He stepped closer to the counter again, placing his hands on the top of it, like he was trying to keep himself at his post.

He looked at me and forced a smile. He was waiting for me to asked him something about the arcade. He was trying to do his job even though he was terrified of us. His eyes traveled down towards my gut, and I realized my sweatshirt had ridden up again. It was layered under my open letterman jacket. I’d gotten the jacket this school year, but the sweatshirt was from sophomore year, explaining why it was doing such a shit job of preventing me from flashing everyone my fat stomach. I tugged at it again, trying to stifle the feeling of embarrassment. “You, uh, work here?”

He nodded, still trying to hold his composure.

“He’s fucking talking to you,” Mike spat in an over-aggressive manner. Aidan’s body tensed up.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, still smiling like everything was okay. “Can I help you guys with anything?” He had a really deep voice. It was sexy as hell.

“So you can talk,” Kevin remarked.

“Yeah,” he managed to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. He started writing again, like before we walked up to the counter, but had to stop because he was shaking so bad.

“We just wanted to say hello is all,” I said, trying to make up for the others. Those fucking idiots had scared him so bad, I doubted he’d come back to school ever again. “Let's go guys.”

They followed as I left the arcade. They were all laughing and mocking his voice. Adding a lisp that wasn’t even there. I was so pissed. They ruined everything! This was all their fault.

No. This was—this was—this was my fault too. I was just as guilty, even if I wanted to act like I had pure intentions. I didn’t try to stop them at all, not in a way that mattered.

I got in around nine, much earlier than my parents thought I would. My brother was on his computer and I said goodnight as I passed. I started doing push-ups on the floor of my bedroom. I couldn’t go into the garage to lift because it was so late, and my dad couldn't spot me. I took a shower, trying to calm myself down.

I couldn’t believe that even after everything that happened, I was turned on thinking about Aidan. His hair was so sexy pulled back like that. I pictured his face before we walked up to him, his eyes cast down at the notepad, his lips slightly parted. I reached under my gut and grabbed my dick. I could picture him beneath me in the shower, his hand on my gut to keep it out of his way while he worked my cock with those fleshy lips. I stroked myself off for another few minutes before I came all over the shower wall. I rinsed it away before getting out.

I looked at myself in the mirror and I kind of liked the way I looked. I liked my belly, which was still bloated from the food court, and I touched it. I turned to the side and took in how far it stuck out in front of me, surprised that my ass was actually sticking out almost as far in comparison. I couldn’t believe I was this big. Maybe I should diet or something and then there would be a chance for me to be happier. My hair was still wet, causing water to drip down my neck. I gave my stomach one last squeeze before I started to dry off my hair.

I had to make things up to Aidan, but I didn't know how.

I couldn’t talk to him. He’d just run away, and I definitely was not going to try and grab him again. Touching was off limits, because if I hurt him again—no. That was not going to happen. I walked into my room and sat gently on the bed. I remembered in eighth grade when I first needed a new one, and then last year when we had to upgrade it again. There was nothing more mortifying than explaining to my parents that it just broke. I had just been laying down and the wood snapped. This new king-sized bed frame was made from metal, but I was still overly cautious when I sat on it. With all the stuff on my mind, I didn’t remember dozing off, but I slept for like ten hours, only getting out of bed because my stomach forced me to.

I spent the rest of the weekend thinking about Aidan and how we were starting swimming in Phys Ed. Now I had two things to make me anxious. Anyone could guess I wasn’t going to be participating. I hated taking my clothes off in public. Always had. I’d been the big t-shirt kid for all of middle school, and a big t-shirt could no longer do anything to disguise how colossal I was.

On Monday, Aidan still avoided me as much as possible. I was trying to build up the nerve to talk to him again, but shockingly, he spoke to me after AP Bio, the class right before lunch. “Can—can I talk to you?” I had to look around to make sure he was talking to me.

“Of course,” I said, still in disbelief. We walked in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. It was a section of the school that didn’t have a lot of foot traffic, especially during lunch periods. We found a single-occupant bathroom and went inside. He didn’t say anything for what felt like too long of a time to be standing together in a tiny bathroom. This might have been very spacious if I was a regular sized man, but my gut was just inches from him, and my back was as close against a wall as my butt would allow. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked, feeling like I was going to barf. If he was about to tell me off or insult me, I’d let him. I deserved it.

“Why did you ask me if I was gay?” he asked, holding my gaze even though I knew it must have been really hard for him. “Do you have friends at Jefferson?” That was our rival school in the suburb adjacent to this one. So he was from a school in the area.

“Fuck Jefferson,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. He was still staring daggers at me, so I assumed my joke had not landed. “I asked if you were gay because I thought you were cute. I was just hoping you were gay like me. And I know that it’s ridiculous that I would even think you’d be interested in a guy like me even if you are gay, because, well, look at me.”

“Please stop.” He finally looked away from me. “Just stop it. I don’t know who put you up to this, but I don’t like it. I won’t look at you or talk to you, so you can just fuck with somebody else. I just want to graduate and get out of here.”

“Nobody has put me up to anything. Who would do that?” I asked seriously. I was really trying to be as honest as possible. I had no reason to pull a practical joke on him.

“You’re not gay,” he said definitively. He moved closer to the door, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to open it with me in the way. “I’m not going to let you play a trick on me. I know you and your friends thought it was hilarious to fuck with me the other night.”

“I’m not fucking with you, Aidan,” I said, trying to think of how I could explain things to him. “I didn't want them to mess with you. I—I tried to stop them.”

“Yeah right,” he said, trying to reach for the door handle. “You were going to beat me up last week.”

“No—no, I wasn't.” I didn’t know how to get out of this. The evidence was stacked against me, and even though this was all a misunderstanding, it didn’t seem like he wanted to hear it.

Aidan was trembling so bad it made me feel like a monster. I reached out my arm; I was going to try and give him a comforting pat on the shoulder, but he looked at my arm coming towards him with a panicked expression. I dropped my arm to my side.

“Are you going to let me out of here?” he asked uneasily. “I won’t mention we were in here to anybody. I swear.”

“I’m not holding you captive,” I said. “But please believe me when I say I’m not joking. I am gay. Ask anybody.” He looked at me again, trying to discern if I was being honest. I shifted my eyes even though I wasn’t lying. I just felt so bad about the whole situation. “Seriously.”

“How did you know I was gay?” he asked, his arms straight against his sides. He pulled at the sleeves of his long sleeve. It was really fucking cute, but then I remembered he thought I was about to kill him or something.

“I was just hoping, I guess,” I said, only telling a half-truth. “And, well, you move differently than most guys. And you smell like, a little girly—not that there’s anything wrong with that!” In truth he just didn’t smell like most of the guys I hung around with. The locker room always smelled like sweat and Axe body spray. He smelled like coconuts and other tropical fruits. It was really nice.

“If you just want sex or something, we can do that,” he said, looking down again. “It’s fine if you want to experiment with me. Just—just promise to ignore me. Act like I’m invisible. I won’t tell anyone about what we do together, so you don’t have to worry about anyone finding out.”

“I wouldn’t just use you like that,” I said. “I was hoping you might want to go on a date or something.”

“Why?” he asked, perplexed.

“I like you and I want to get to know you.” He stood silent, like he was running a polygraph on what I’d just said. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was now or never.

I filled the small amount of space that still remained between us. My gut pushed into him slightly, but I didn’t let that stop me. I couldn’t let it stop me. I had to make sure he knew I was for real. I leaned down so that my face was right in front of his. I kissed him, and he didn’t pull away. Our lips parted and met again and again, and then I felt his tongue in my mouth. His hands were on my stomach and it felt good. I could feel his palms and his warm fingers pressing gently into my middle. I wanted him to touch me all over. I could stay kissing him in this tiny bathroom for the rest of my life.

“I—I believe you,” he said looking at me, and for the first time ever, it felt like he wasn’t afraid of me. “You seem like a nice guy.”

“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “I’d, uh, really like that.”

“When?” I asked excitedly. I knew I sounded thirsty, but this was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He laughed softly.

“Whenever you’re free.”

“How’s Saturday for you?”

“Fine with me,” he said, looking down, but smiling. One day he’d feel comfortable enough to smile directly at me. I couldn’t wait for that day. “But I work at the arcade until three.”

“Okay, cool, I'll pick you up. What's your address? Wait, text it to me. Oh man, now we can start texting each other.” He laughed again, handing me his phone so I could give him my number. I held his tiny phone in my hands, slightly embarrassed that I was having such a hard time putting in the digits. My thick fingers were hitting multiple numbers at the same time. I finally got everything in order and handed his phone back to him. My phone chimed and I looked down at the message that I just received: Hey, It’s Aidan Ashford.

It was so formal, like I knew a million Aidan’s and needed to make sure to differentiate between him and all the others. My phone chimed again, and this time it was his address. “Is seven good for you?” I asked aloud.

“Yes,” he said, still smiling. This was nice. He usually had the same blank expression on his face, well, that or terror. I much preferred his smile.

“Uh, can you stand behind me,” I said, my face getting hot. “It’s the only way I can open the door with the both of us in here. I’m sorry.” He nodded and shimmied by me. Feeling him rub against my body was enough to have me fully erect. I hated feeling like a horndog, but I couldn’t control how he made me feel. I’d gladly replace in my memory the previous bathroom encounter with this one.

We spent the rest of the week texting. He still didn’t talk much during classes, and he continued to avoid the lunchroom, but I didn’t want to push him out of his comfort zone too quickly. I was just glad we were getting closer. I spent the entire week in an amazing mood. At practice my mind was clear, and we won our game on Friday night. That did nothing but good things for my confidence on Saturday night.

I went and got a haircut that morning, my standard fade. I took my truck to the carwash. I lifted with my dad and brother in the garage for about an hour. I was pretty pumped afterwards, my arms and shoulders slightly sore. Fuck, I loved that feeling. I wondered if Aidan liked that I was so muscular. Maybe that’d cancel out the fact that I was also fat as fuck.

I tried on at least twenty different outfits, slightly panicked because I couldn’t wear sweats. I decided on a pair of jeans that had seen better days, but they were my roomiest pair. I threw on a 4-XL t-shirt and layered my letterman jacket over it. I wore some white Nikes, size sixteen. Before I left, I put on some diamond stud earrings and a simple chain necklace. I didn’t look half bad. Hell, I’d even venture to say I looked good.

I told my parents I’d be out late and drove to his place. I didn’t know if I should go in to meet his parents or not. I figured I should. I got out and went up to the door. I texted Aidan and then rang the doorbell. A very pretty girl answered. She looked to be about the same age as me and Aidan. She actually looked a lot like Aidan. They had to be siblings.

“Uh, hi,” I said, a big goofy smile on my face. I was way too excited, but I couldn’t help it. “My name is Oakley Rivers. I’m here to pick up Aidan.” She stared at me for a moment, looking kind of angry. I began to feel uncomfortable. Maybe I had the wrong house.

“Yeah, sure. He’ll be down in a minute.” She didn’t invite me inside; instead, she came out onto the porch and closed the door. Her voice was the opposite of Aidan’s. From that intimidating stare down, I didn’t expect the voice of a Powerpuff Girl.

“So, are you Aidan’s sister?” I asked, looking down at her. She also had big, curly hair like Aidan. If Aidan was a deer, she was also a deer—an angry, intimidating deer that could slice a grizzly bear in half.

“Twin sister, actually.” He hadn’t mentioned any siblings this week while we were texting. I’d have to ask him more about his family tonight. “My name is Autumn.” She was shorter than Aidan by an inch or two, but oddly felt much larger.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said. “Do you still go to Jefferson?”

“I do not,” she said, coming closer. “I graduated last year, like Aidan should have.” She poked a perfectly manicured nail into my chest. “If you're fucking with him, I will kill you.” Her nail dug into my skin. “Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. I—I’m not messing with him. I swear.” The door opened and there Aidan stood, looking incredible. His hair was pulled back again, and I think he might have been wearing a little bit of makeup, like some eyeliner and a little bit of glitter on his eyelids. He looked like he was a cast member on Euphoria or something. I couldn’t believe someone so cool had agreed to go out with me.

He had on some of those chunky platform sneakers and baggy jeans. He wore an oversized denim jacket with a slightly cropped anime t-shirt underneath. It looked like one of the shows I had seen my brother watching before. This outfit was nothing like the sort of stuff that I’d seen him wear at school. This was intimidating. I looked like shit compared to him.

“Hi Oakley,” he said in his smooth, deep voice. “You look great.”

“Hey, um, thanks,” I responded, my voice cracking slightly. “You look really awesome.”

“Autumn, what are you doing?” he asked, closing the door and joining us on the porch.

“We were just getting to know each other.” She smiled at me and I smiled back. I got the feeling that if I didn’t, she’d stab me or something.

“Oh, okay, that’s good,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “Are you ready?” he asked me.

“Should I say hello to your parents?”

“No, let’s just go.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Bye Autumn,” he called as we left.

“See you later Aidan,” she called cheerily. I turned and gave a slight wave. “Bye Oakley,” she added dryly. She hated me.

We walked out to my truck and sat there for a moment. I was really happy. I was on a date with Aidan. “So, it’s a pretty nice night for the end of October. It’ll probably get colder soon, so I was thinking we could pick up some food and eat it in the bed of the truck.” He nodded, and it made me feel like this was a lame idea. I wish he’d talk more. It’d make me less anxious. “That’s probably a dumb idea. You’re wearing such a nice outfit. I got a carwash today, so I thought it’d be clean enough. I brought a blanket too. I’m sorry, it’s dumb. What—what do you wanna do?” I asked finally, realizing I’d rambled for far too long.

“No, I'm okay with that,” he said. He laughed a bit. “I really appreciate you taking the time to plan all of this. This is my first date, so I'm a bit nervous.”

“This is my first date too,” I said.

“With a guy?” he asked.

“No, with anybody.”

“Whoa, really?” he asked in surprise. “You’re so popular, I just assumed you’ve gone out on a ton of dates.”

“Have you seen me?” I asked. “Nobody is trying to go out with me. I don’t even know why you’re here to be honest. I’m kind of scared I forced you into this.”

He turned in his seat to look at me. It felt really intense, like he had something he really wanted to emphasize to me. He reached across the middle armrest and placed his hand on mine. “I want to be here,” he said. “Don’t think that I don’t want to be.” I felt like I was in a movie. Guys like me weren’t the lead in rom-coms, but he was making me believe that maybe I could be.

“Okay,” I said, grabbing his hand in mine. We sat like that for a few minutes, and it was really nice. I couldn’t believe how special he made me feel. He said he was here because he wanted to be, and I had to push away the negative thoughts that said that was a lie. I was going to enjoy this night.

“Now let’s go get some food,” he said finally, shifting in his seat and putting on his seatbelt.

I drove to one of those fast-food places that had like fifty different menu items. I wasn’t too sure what he liked, so I wanted to make sure he had options. I loved this place, so hopefully he enjoyed it too. “We can get the food and then drive somewhere private to eat,” I said. He agreed and we went inside. He perused the menu and I waited already knowing what I wanted. My stomach growled at the thought of devouring a gyro and cheese fries.

“Would it be lame if I ordered chicken tenders?” he asked.

“Definitely not lame,” I replied. “That’s what my brother always gets. They’re pretty good.”

I walked up to the counter and placed our order. I got his chicken tender meal and a gyro platter for myself (no onions) with a large cheese fry. I also ordered extra fries and two milkshakes. I didn’t know what kind he liked so I got one chocolate and one vanilla. I met him off towards the side so we could wait for the food together.

“How much was it?” he asked. “We can split it fifty-fifty.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He looked up at me expectantly.

“You can pay when we do non food related stuff,” I said, scratching at my chin. “It’s not fair to make you pay when you barely eat anything.” He lowered his wallet, putting it back in his pocket. We didn’t say much as we waited, but it was nice just being out with him. I didn’t mind the silence this time.

Some guys came in and he turned his body towards me, so his face was slightly obscured. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” he said, turning even further, so his back was almost completely facing the door and those guys who had just come in. They had called ahead so their food was already prepared. They grabbed it and were gone within two minutes.

“Those guys are gone,” I said.

“Sorry about that,” he said, smiling. “Just some people I didn’t want to see.”

“Order six-fifty,” the cashier called. I went to the counter to grab our food and we were back out at my truck. He was even more silent than before. I was kind of pissed those guys showed up. I was finally getting him to be more comfortable and now he was on edge again. We rode in silence to a forest preserve a few miles from where the restaurant was.

“Wait here,” I said, hopping out and getting the blanket set up. “Okay, come on!”

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the bed of my truck eating takeout with Aidan Ashford. It was kind of dark, but I knew that’d be the case, so I brought along a couple of candles. It was definitely romantic. We talked and there were barely any awkward pauses. He chose the vanilla milkshake. I realized he was pretty smart, and it made him even more intimidating. He liked a lot of nerdy stuff and gay stuff I’d never heard of. I wanted to write down some of the things he was talking about so I could research it on my own. He let me talk about football, even though I didn’t think he was all that interested in sports. I wanted to ask him about that day in the bathroom, the one when I first heard him talk. I wanted to ask him about those guys at the restaurant. The conversation turned towards Phys Ed.

“I notice you never swim,” he said.

“No,” I said, eating a chicken tender he had pushed in my direction. I got him a six piece and he’d only eaten three of them. He probably thought I was a glutton. “You don’t either,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I don’t, but—but I’d do it if you did.” He took a sip from his milkshake. I’d already finished mine. I got us both extra larges, and I didn’t think he was anywhere near finished with his.

“I can’t.” You didn’t really swim laps or anything. You just had to get in the water to receive credit. Everyone just horsed around. They separated the gym classes between boys and girls.

“I just hate that we’re losing points,” he said. “I really need to get an A in Phys Ed.”

“I’m sure you could do it without me.” He shouldn't have body image problems. He looked amazing. Could he really be that poor of a swimmer that he thought he’d drown in a pool full of people?

“Not by myself,” he protested weakly.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s just something that happened at my old school. It’s really dumb.”

“Tell me about it?” I asked. He handed me the rest of his milkshake.

“If you finish this for me.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

That was when he told me about his old school, the one Autumn graduated from. He was a year older than I was, which was definitely a surprise. He had to repeat his senior year because he missed so much school. Kids had always picked on him for being gay, but it started getting more serious at the end of his junior year. He thought things would cool down over the summer, but it only got worse. The main culprits were big, football playing guys.

Example? Guys like me.

He’d been on the swim team. One day after practice they cornered him in the locker room showers. They wrapped him in duct tape and tossed him into the deep end. They almost drowned him. I couldn’t believe it. Of course he’d been terrified of me. Some of those guys that came into the restaurant earlier had been in his class. I felt sick to my stomach. I had been seven feet away from the people who almost killed him. I wish he had told me. I’d have killed those fuckers. He said he wouldn’t feel safe unless I was there. I couldn’t deny his request to swim with him now that I knew what he’d been through. We were connecting. He was trusting me.

“I’ll do it,” I said. “We can swim together on Monday.”

“You’re like a superhero,” he said, and it didn’t sound sarcastic.

“Shut up,” I said, laughing. “You’re just fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” he exclaimed. “I really thought you were this awful guy who hated me, but you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

“I’m glad I exceeded your expectations.”

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

“You don’t gotta ask,” I said. He crawled towards me and wrapped his arms around my neck. He was on his knees and I had easy access to his waist. It didn’t take any effort to get my arms all the way around him. He smelled fantastic, kind of citrusy. He let go of my neck, but I didn’t let go of his waist. “You fucked up,” I said. “I’m never letting you go.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

His face was so close to mine, I could see the glitter sparkling in the candlelight. He leaned in and kissed me. The next thing I knew he was straddling me in the back of my pickup, and we were over-the-clothes grinding. My hand was on his ass, and I was surprised by how much was there underneath his baggy jeans. I had finished all my food, and I knew what I wanted to eat next.

He rocked his hips slightly, and I could feel his dick pressing against my gut through the denim. I knew he could feel my dick, the way he moved his body he was rubbing me just right through my own jeans. He bit at my neck gently, covering it in kisses. “You taste good,” he said breathlessly.

He was going to make me cum in my pants and that’d be so fucking lame, but I didn’t want him to stop. “You—you’ve gotta slow down,” I said, grabbing his waist. Fuck, just feeling how little he was in my hands was sending me into a different headspace. I just wanted to take control of his body. I wanted to make him do what I wanted.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. He stopped moving his hips, slinking in between my legs. He was like a cat. He’d become some sort of deer-cat hybrid. His hands fumbled under my gut looking for the button on my jeans. It was too tight. He wouldn’t be able to get them open.

“Let me,” I said, sucking in slightly and popping the button open. It had only been holding my gut back a little, but with the added freedom my fat stomach surged forward. “It’s—I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It’s gross.”

“It’s not,” he said, looking up at me from the base of my gut. He started kissing it slowly, licking it softly in some spots. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my fatpad. I hated that he was looking at it, knowing he probably hated it. But then he kissed that as well. My whole body tingled from just a couple of kisses. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten me this excited and he hadn’t even touched my dick yet.

He held my stomach with one hand as he covered the head of my cock with his mouth. I could feel it pulsating as his tongue played with the tip. “Fuck,” I said, not wanting this to ever end. “It feels so good, Aidan.”

I could tell he wouldn’t be able to fit the whole thing in his mouth, but he got the majority of it in there, taking some into his throat. He started making noises like in porn videos I’d seen, and it sent me over the edge. How could one guy be this fucking sexy? I wanted to warn him, but it happened almost instantaneously. I felt spurt after spurt of ejaculate erupt from the head of my dick. He managed to collect most of it, but some of it fell from his mouth onto the blanket.

He shielded his face, though I caught a glimpse of him covered in my cum. That was one of the sexiest images I’d ever seen, and I knew I’d be using the memory later on tonight for round two. He cleaned himself up and I readjusted my pants. Then he got all quiet again.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I hope that doesn’t ruin things,” he replied.

“Ruin things?” Did he believe I would think he was a slut or something? I’d never think that about him. I’d never experienced anything like that in my entire life. He’d never be able to get rid of me now.

“I know it’s dumb, but I’m kind of scared you won’t text me anymore.”

“I’m not like that,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about something like that with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks Oakley.”

I took him home after that and I made sure to give him a kiss goodbye. It was the perfect end to a perfect date. I saw Autumn glaring through the curtains when I pulled off. I hoped she’d like me eventually.

When I got home, I was buzzing. The endorphins were never ending. I had so much serotonin I’d never be depressed again. I took out my phone and sent Aidan a text. It said: I had a great time tonight. Can’t wait to see you again.

He sent back a bunch of emojis. It was really cute. He also said: Thanks for the best night ever!!!

Bridget Jones needed to move over because there was a new queen of rom-coms and his name was Oakley Rivers!

The morning after my first date with Aidan I remembered I needed some swimming trunks. It was Sunday, which meant I still had time to mentally prepare for my public humiliation. I promised Aidan I’d get in the pool, so I was going to get in the pool. I rummaged through my dresser drawers looking for my swimming trunks. I found them. I had bought them last year when this time of year came around, but I never wore them.

I pulled them up over my thighs and felt my neck go hot. My ass was too big. I couldn't fit into these stupid swim trunks. I pulled harder and they ripped. I couldn't believe it; I thought they were huge. I looked in the mirror and there it was, my big brown backside hanging out of some too little pineapple print swim shorts.

I felt slightly excited about this, but that was wrong. I shouldn’t have liked being fat. I felt my gut in my hands, the heft of it was stimulating. I flexed my arms and turned to the side. It really did stick out a lot. Was it wrong to like the way that I looked when I wasn’t what was considered normal? It felt good to be powerful, sure, but was I getting bigger? I couldn’t be, although I ate a bit more, but that shouldn't have made me this much bigger.

I went to the bathroom and stepped on the scale. I didn’t even have a regular scale because I had to get one that went above 300 pounds. I had weighed 374 pounds three months ago at the start of the football season. I couldn't have gone up more than five pounds.

I couldn't see the fucking number.

I couldn't get in the pool now. I couldn't—but that would let Aidan down, and that was something I couldn't do. I managed to maneuver my bulk so I could see the number. I weighed 402 pounds. 402 pounds.

I went back into my room and sat on the bed. The swim trunks ripped even more. I was suddenly very aware of how big I was. I was massive—gigantic—enormous. Whatever you wanted to call it. I had never worried much about my weight. I’d always been a really big guy, and yeah, I kind of hated it, but I hadn’t ever needed to worry about how fat I was. I was just fat. But now, Aidan wasn’t going to want to stay with me. Why would he?

Even though I knew things between Aidan and I would end as soon as he saw me in swim trunks, I made a promise to him and I had to keep it. I got dressed, hopped in my truck, and headed to the mall. Even my truck seemed too small. I went into a store for bigger guys and looked at the swimsuits. I picked up a pair of blue and red trunks. They were two sizes bigger than the other pair. I went to try them on.

They fit. I was kind of in shock that a pair of trunks that were two sizes bigger than the ones I’d just bought last year fit so perfectly, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I was glad I didn’t have to try on anything else, because having a mirror show off my body at every angle didn’t help with my self-esteem. Fuck, my ass was really ridiculous. My thighs were probably double the size of Aidan’s waist. No wonder I only ever wore sweatpants. I had a lot of muscle under my meaty chest and large powerful arms, but they were still covered in a layer of fat. I took in my belly again. It was so round. I hated it. I hated that I kind of liked it. I bought the suit and made my way home.

I had never been so anxious to go to school before. I knew this probably paled in comparison to how Aidan felt about going to school after what happened to him, but I was still terrified. We’d barely started getting to know one another and now it was all going to be over.

“Hey Oakley,” Aidan said. “Good morning.” He seemed to be in a good mood. We were in homeroom, which was first period. Phys Ed would be the last period of the day. I wasn’t planning on eating lunch.

“Hey.” He looked at me, like he saw something.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied. I could tell he wasn’t buying that I was okay, but he wasn’t the pushy type. He probably thought I just needed time to open up about whatever was eating at me.

“I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“Well, if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

“If there was something wrong, I would,” I said. “I promise.”

I was definitely uncharacteristically silent the rest of the day. I just wanted to savor the rest of the time Aidan and I had together before he ended things. I skipped out on lunch, spending the period in the library. I had a slight headache when it was time to swim.

I was one of the last people to get changed, and when the locker room was nearly empty, I got dressed as quickly as possible. I felt like everyone was just waiting to make fun of me. I was the biggest guy in the class, and not by like twenty pounds. I probably weighed the most by over a hundred. I absolutely hated it. Aidan would see me. He’d know what I looked like. But, I mean, I guess everyone already knew what I looked like. I was basically a walking brick wall.

I walked out of the locker room and into the pool area. Aidan was near a corner. I was afraid to go meet him. I started walking over to him, and I noticed nobody else was looking at me. I smiled a bit, mostly to myself. He met me halfway.

He was gorgeous. He had abs. Abs. He was so little. I wanted nothing more than to grab him by the waist and pull him into my body. I wanted to feel his arms trying to wrap around me. I was afraid I’d get an erection. “You look good,” he said. He wasn’t looking at me and his face was flushed. He probably felt embarrassed for me. I wondered if he’d end things in person or through text message.

“You do too,” I said honestly.

“Thanks for doing this.”

“I’m happy to.” He smiled. Coach yelled for everyone to get into the water. God, it was freezing. I could feel my nipples getting hard. Aidan stuck close by me, especially when they started playing a dunking game. I was surprised Coach didn’t try and stop it. We just floated off to the side and I made sure nobody came near us. Before long, it was over. I had survived it, and nobody cared. I was sure they thought I was fat, but they didn’t say anything. Aidan was safe and I made sure of it. It felt good to protect him.

“Do you want to come over tonight and study?” Aidan asked after we were dressed. His hair was slightly wet in some areas. He had put it up, and he never went underwater, but it still managed to get a little damp.

“Sure,” I replied, surprised he wasn’t breaking up with me.

“What time is practice over?”

“I'll skip.” I didn't feel much like practicing. I was starving. Skipping lunch completely drained me. “But can we get something to eat?”

“My treat!” he exclaimed.

We stopped at a McDonald’s that was on the way to his house. Smelling the scent of fries in the air made my stomach growl more loudly than the radio. He fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket, turned and smiled at me, and said, “I got paid on Friday, so please, get however much you want!”

It didn’t feel like he was making a joke or anything. I wasn’t used to not being made fun of for eating too much. Even at home there was the occasional jab at me about my weight. He still smiled at me, and it made my heart melt. I had wanted nothing more in the entire world than him looking at me like he liked me. Looking at me like he was happy to be alone with me, just us and the lady about to take our order at the drive-thru intercom.

“You’re not going to get anything?” I asked, a little embarrassed we had to make this stop because of me.

“Nah,” he said. “I had a big lunch, and I promised Autumn I’d treat her to Chipotle for dinner.”

“That sounds good too,” I said offhandedly, thinking about the last time I got to eat a burrito.

“You could come with us if you want,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m being weird. We’ve been around each other all day and now I’m trying to take up even more of your time.”

“I’d like to go with you guys,” I said honestly. “If the offer still stands.”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was then our turn at the intercom and even though I wanted to eat my weight in hamburgers, I kept it simple. The cashier gave the spiel welcoming me to McDonald’s and then I was able to place my order. “Can I get a number one meal with a Coke,” I requested.

“Would you like to make that a large meal for one more dollar?” she asked. I normally would have said yes.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“Does that complete your order?” I didn’t think I could skip lunch again. I was so hungry.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“—Actually,” Aidan called towards the intercom, leaning in my direction. “Can we make that the large meal?”

“Yeah, anything else?”

“And can we have two McDoubles, a ten-piece nugget, and—and an Oreo McFlurry!”

“That’ll be $24.87,” she said. “Please drive forward.”

I followed her directions and pulled the car towards the next window. He handed me his debit card. “I thought you weren’t hungry,” I said, taking the card from him.

“I’m not,” he said proudly. “I knew you’d do that, be all shy and order next to nothing. I told you to get however much you wanted.”

“That was enough food for me,” I lied, feeling really bad that even he thought of me as some greedy pig. We paid for the food and headed to his place. When we got there, it seemed like nobody was home. I could hear a television in one of the rooms, but nobody was moving around or anything. Where were his other family members? I knew we’d see Autumn later at dinner, but what about everybody else?

“My dad is in his room,” he said. “We just need to make sure we aren’t too loud.”

“Yeah, no problem.” We walked towards the rear of the house through the living room and kitchen. There was a small door off to the side. He opened it and ushered me inside. It wasn’t very spacious at all. He had a twin sized bed and a desk setup. There were also some shelves with small figures and books on them.

“You can sit at the desk,” he said, closing a textbook and pushing some miscellaneous knickknacks to the side. I couldn’t sit at his desk. I didn’t know how to tell him that I physically could not sit at his desk. His office chair looked comfortable enough, but it had armrests, and it didn’t look like the one my parents specially ordered for my room. “I can quiz you on Bio terms while you eat.”

“I won’t—I won’t be able to fit,” I said, my head falling. If I was just tall, yeah, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But I wasn’t just tall. I was big. I was wide. I was fat. He looked at me and then at the chair, and then back at me.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t realize. You can sit on the bed!”

“I should just go,” I said. It might not have seemed like a big deal, but I was mortified. What did he think of me? Why was he acting like everything was okay when I knew it couldn’t be?

He walked over to me, grabbing the drink caddy from my hand and placing it on the desk. I still held the bag with the food in it. He took that from me next and set it on his bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking up at me.

I didn’t want to talk about it. If we started this conversation, it wasn’t like we could pretend that it didn’t happen. He looked at me expectantly. Everything was going to end, and it had barely even begun.

“I think you’re a really nice guy,” I said. “I think you’re so nice that you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Oakley, what’re you talking about?”

“You could be on TV,” I started. “You’re the type of guy I’d see in some magazine and need to find your Instagram so I could obsess over you. I—I can’t let you be with me just because you’re nice and willing to settle for less than you deserve. I can feel myself constantly waiting for the moment when you can’t force yourself to be nice anymore. When you get real about how you feel.”

He looked up at me and his face was kind of angry. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. Maybe this was all it took for him to end things. I opened the floor for this discussion and now he didn’t have to pretend anymore. It was better this happened now rather than when I was absolutely in love with him. “Do you remember the first time you sat with me at lunch?” he asked.

The marinara stain never came out of that shirt. I’d always remember the moment he realized I was a fat slob. “Yeah,” I said, waiting for him to let me know how I wasn’t what he really wanted.

“I had never seen someone look so happy to be eating cafeteria food,” he said. I looked down, no longer able to keep his gaze. I was basically a giant, and the thought of breaking down in tears was humiliating. “Look at me,” he said. “Oakley.”

I looked up at him gingerly. “Yeah.”

“It made me happy looking at you enjoy your food. It was so adorable, and it felt like I was getting to see a side of you other people probably didn’t notice. You’re this big, intimidating guy, but you looked so—so fucking cute.” He hadn’t been making fun of me that day? I assumed he had been laughing at me like everybody else.

“I will say this however many times you need to hear it,” he continued. “I’m attracted to you. I want to continue getting to know you. I want nothing more than for this to turn into a relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Being insecure like this is so not sexy.”

“But you know what is sexy?” he asked. “Eating the food I bought you and enjoying it. You’re still finishing that McFlurry, even if it’s melted.” He led me over to his bed so I could sit and eat. I was really glad he ordered that extra stuff because I was starving. I destroyed all of that food in less than fifteen minutes. He sat, pretending to scroll through his phone, looking up at me from the floor. I knew he was trying to give me my space, but if he liked watching me eat, I wasn’t going to complain.

After all that we managed to study for about an hour and a half. He mentioned that he was supposed to meet Autumn at the Chipotle. She went to a community college in the area and worked a part-time job at a store that sold candles and other smell-goods. My mom would love to use her employee discount. Maybe if I got Autumn to like me, she’d help me shop for my mom.

“I don’t want to study anymore,” he said, stretching out on the floor. He was wearing his plain-Aidan clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans. He rolled over onto his stomach and got on his knees. He kneeled forward and stretched his back, his ass pointed in my direction. His jeans were pulled tight against his bubble butt. He got to his feet and sat next to me on his bed.

“I usually just cram right before a test,” I said. “You got me studying just for the hell of it.”

“You don’t study?” he asked, surprised. “Cramming would just give me too much anxiety.”

“If I get to study with you, I’ll study every day.”

“We’ll become the best studying duo in the country!” he exclaimed. “Tests and quizzes will quake in fear as we approach them. Our number two pencils will be our weapons.”

“What?”

“Oh, uh, I was just joking around,” he said. He scratched at the nape of his neck. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s no way to speak as the leader of the—the uh, Intelligence Collective. As your loyal sidekick and bodyguard, I must encourage you to—believe in yourself?” He laughed loudly, falling back onto his bed. “Sorry, was that not good?”

“It was perfect!” he said, sitting up. “You’re perfect.”

He moved closer to me, which wasn’t a long way to move on his tiny bed, and placed his hand on my thigh. I could smell his hair. That’s where the coconut smell was coming from. I wanted to smell it more deeply, so I leaned over and took a good whiff of it.

His hand traveled up my thigh, finding its way to my stomach. I immediately tried to suck in as much as I could on instinct. “Stop,” he said. I exhaled slowly, and I could feel my gut pushing forward. His hand rested there for a moment, and I’ll admit that it felt nice to be touched like that.

Like before, in the back of my truck, he stealthily moved in between my legs. He was on his knees before me, looking up at me from his bedroom floor. He grabbed at the hem of my t-shirt and pushed it up so that it rested on the top of my gut. He brought his face close to it and slowly kissed from one side to the other. His hand grabbed at one of my love handles and he squeezed it gently. I never thought having a guy focus so much attention on my stomach could make me feel anything other than embarrassment, but I was really enjoying how Aidan was touching me.

“C’mere,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. I pulled my sweats and underwear down so my cock was out. I grabbed it, stroking it a few times. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and with my free hand I popped open the button on his jeans. I was finally able to grab one of those cheeks. “Damn, this ass is fat.”

His lips met mine and we kissed for a few moments. I was still stroking my dick when he slipped out of my grasp. Back on his knees, his mouth wrapped around the head of my dick. I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on outside of this moment. I was completely lost in Aidan and how he was making me feel.

“Aidan,” called the voice of an older guy. Aidan jumped to his feet, shooting me a nervous glance. I put my dick back in my pants and pulled down my shirt. I felt my heart beating out of my chest. This could’ve turned into a very awkward situation. Before long, the man was at the door of his bedroom. This guy was maybe about twenty-five and a smidge taller than Aidan.

“What do you need, Ryan?” Aidan asked.

“Who’s that?” he asked, gesturing towards me. He didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

“This is Oakley,” Aidan answered, pulling at his t-shirt, trying to cover his front. He hadn’t buttoned his jeans. Ryan looked Aidan up and down, obviously noticing our mistake. “He’s a really good friend of mine,” he added. I stood up, adjusting my own shirt. He looked up at me.

“Friend?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Aidan replied, his voice shaking slightly. Something didn’t seem right. “Oakley, this is my older brother Ryan.”

“Are you gay too?” Ryan asked, skipping the pleasantries. I was getting a weird vibe from him. He seemed kind of like an asshole.

“Yeah, I am,” I said in an authoritative tone. I wasn’t going to let this guy make me feel bad about who I was. Ryan looked at me for a moment, really taking me in, and then he brought his attention back to Aidan. He walked out of the room.

“We should go meet Autumn,” he said, buttoning his jeans.

“Yo, what was your brother’s problem?” I asked. “I didn’t like that shit.”

“I probably shouldn't have invited you over,” Aidan said worriedly. “I thought he’d be at work until later tonight. Fuck.”

“You didn’t want me to meet him?” I asked, looking down at him. “Are—are you embarrassed of me?”

“Of course not!”

I thought about all the things he said that day in the bathroom when I first kissed him. He mentioned not having a problem with a secret arrangement. I never considered that he might want to keep me a secret. “Listen, I can understand if you don’t want to go out with me. I guess we can just have sex or whatever if that’s what you want.” He was packing away my things much neater than I ever would have. He handed me my jacket and backpack. He pulled on a hoodie and grabbed my free hand. He led me to the front door and then we walked out to my truck.

“I really like you,” he said. “But things with my brother are hard to explain. I just—I can’t talk about it.” I wouldn’t push him. I would let him talk to me when he was ready. I probably should have been more observant in the moment. Obviously, Ryan was weird about gay shit. Aidan probably wasn’t supposed to bring guys back home. I felt like I might have created a bigger problem for Aidan.

Autumn was not enthused to see me walking into the Chipotle with Aidan. I think it was mostly an act though. I offered to treat them, and like the weird twin deer-people that they were, they split a burrito bowl. I got a bowl with lots of extras and two tortillas on the side. I figured it looked better than buying two burritos. Aidan said he liked watching me eat, but I wasn’t going to eat like I normally would in front of Autumn.

I could tell once we finished eating that Aidan didn’t want to go home. I didn’t know what was going on or how I could help, and it made me really angry. When we pulled up to their house I watched in frustration as they went inside.

The day after meeting Aidan’s brother I asked him if everything was okay. I had texted him the night before, but he never responded. He told me that he was all good, but he thought he was coming down with a cold. He didn’t sound like he had a stuffy nose or anything. When I saw he wasn’t getting dressed to swim I asked him if he felt like his cold was getting worse. He was sitting off to the side against a concrete wall, his knees tucked into is body.

“I probably shouldn’t risk it,” he said. “I’ll probably beat this thing by next week. That’s what I get for not drying my hair properly yesterday.” He laughed, but it sounded strained. Maybe he actually was coming down with something.

“I'll go change back then.” I was perfectly okay with having my clothes on.

“You’re already dressed. You can actually have some fun without me.” He smiled. “And I like looking at you in your swim trunks.” I felt my neck go hot. It was going to take some getting used to, having somebody talk to me the way he did.

“If you’re sure,” I said, not wanting to leave him alone.

“I’m positive.”

I ended up getting in the pool. I wanted to see Aidan in his swimsuit again. The class period wasn’t all that fun, but I did get to dunk Pencil Dick Mike.

Aidan didn’t swim again for over a week, but he eventually felt well enough to participate again. The swimming unit was almost over, thankfully. It would only last until Thanksgiving break, which was about two weeks away. Aidan and I had been dating for about three weeks and I had never been happier. I wondered when I’d be able to ask him to be my boyfriend. Hopefully soon I could do something special for him and then I’d be able to ask him.

I had not gone back to his house since that day where Ryan walked in on us. Aidan didn’t ask me to, and I wasn’t going to invite myself over, especially since it seemed to have caused problems for him. My mother on the other hand felt compelled to invite Aidan over for dinner. I had mentioned that I was talking to someone and she insisted he come over for a pre-Thanksgiving feast. I told her that Aidan did not feast, but that did nothing to deter her from imposing her will on me.

“My mom wanted to know if you’d come over for dinner this Saturday, after the game.” Whenever we had Saturday games they were in the afternoon. We’d be done by five and my mom will have prepared enough food for ten meals.

“Do you want me to come to dinner?” he asked, walking with me towards the football field. He had to get to work.

“I want my family to meet you, yeah,” I said, feeling kind of bashful. I didn’t want to be taking this relationship more seriously than he was. That’d just be sad. I didn’t want to be moving too fast either. “It’s cool if you think it’s too soon though. No pressure.”

“Saturday would be perfect,” he said. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”

“Shut up,” I said, pushing him playfully. He laughed, trying to return the shove but finding himself stumbling back instead. “Leave the shoving to me.”

Saturday came much faster than I anticipated. The game went great, and I performed well. I had told Aidan to be here at seven, and the time I spent waiting for him to arrive was agonizing. I was definitely overanalyzing every detail of this meal. What if he hated the food? What if my parents said something stupid? What if my brother was rude? What if, even if everything went perfectly, Aidan didn’t like my family?

My mom had cooked even more than I had predicted, which is no easy feat considering the amount of food we consumed in my house. Of course I was the one that ate the most, but the others weren’t meek eaters. My mother was very tall, as was my father, but I was the tallest. My brother was fourteen, four years younger than I was, and pretty big too, about 6’1” and 250 pounds. That was a good five inches and a hundred pounds on Aidan.

At five minutes to seven the doorbell rang. I told them not to embarrass me and ran quickly to let Aidan inside. “Hey Oakley,” he said, going in to give me a hug. I embraced him, surprised he felt comfortable enough to hug me in front of my family.

Once we stopped hugging, I was able to take in his appearance. He didn’t have on any makeup today. I guess he was trying to keep it simpler for a family dinner. He wore khaki slacks and a denim button-up. He had a large braid on each side of his head that ended in a ponytail. I loved his perfectly styled corkscrew coils. They were so shiny and bouncy.

“Everyone, this is Aidan.” My mother swooped in, hugging him and guiding him to the dining room. We were all at the table in seconds. We just had to get through this initial awkward encounter and then hopefully everyone would be more at ease.

“So, Aidan,” my mother began the dinner conversation. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have two older brothers and a twin sister,” he said, grabbing a gigantic bowl of mashed potatoes from my father. It was almost comical to see him with such a large bowl of food. He placed a modest half spoonful on his plate before passing me the bowl.

“Oh twins,” my mother exclaimed. “If I were to have had twins, I would have named them after gemstones. Opal and Jade if they were girls, Jasper and Mica if they were boys.”

“Those are really unique names,” Aidan replied, trying his best to sound enthusiastic and doing a damn good job. He was trying so hard and it was too cute. My mom was smitten. “Oakley and Orrick are unique names too.”

Aidan had no idea what he had just unearthed. She loved talking about names and meanings and the universe. My mother was the youngest daughter of a pair of hippies. I wasn’t sure how she and my father had stayed together so long, considering my dad was an ex-collegiate athlete and construction worker. She was white and he was black. He grew up wealthy in the city and she grew up in the country eating homegrown produce.

“You see, when I was a girl,” she started. “There was a forest of oak trees right outside my back door. I spent years exploring the woods and aligning myself with the universe. And you will never believe this, but the first time I met Oakley’s father was in a little diner in our college town called, and I kid you not, the Oak Wood Diner.”

“That really is a major coincidence,” Aidan replied, obviously engrossed in her story. He hadn’t heard this a million times, so I guess he was genuinely interested.

“But wait,” I said with a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. “There’s more!” Orrick and my father both laughed, but Aidan looked at my mother and smiled.

“Please, continue,” he said, making my mother blush. This guy was the mother-whisperer. The rest of the food had continued to be passed around, and my plate couldn’t be more opposite of Aidan’s. He had his meager helping of mashed potatoes, one roasted chicken thigh, a few green beans, and a dinner roll. He didn’t even take any of the mac and cheese or the beef brisket. Me, my dad, and Orrick loaded our plates up like there’d be no chance for seconds. We ate heartily as my mom and Aidan kept talking.   

“So we came across one another at that diner often, to the point it felt like the universe wanted us to meet, so I went up to him and said—hon, do you remember what I said?” she asked, addressing my father.

Through a mouth that was half-full, he replied, “‘I need you to know that the universe wants us to know one another.’” My dad finished chewing and swallowed the food. “It was like she was an actress in a movie. This tall, beautiful woman walked up to me with a line like that and I knew I had to get to know her.”

“And the hospital where Oakley was born,” she said enthusiastically. “The floors were named after trees and we were on floor six—oak.”

“So you named him after something really important in your life,” Aidan surmised.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “Oakley means ‘meadow of oak trees’ and Orrick means ‘old oak tree.’ I think these names are probably why my sons are giants.”

“Or the fact you’re almost six feet tall and dad’s big as hell,” Orrick interjected.

“Well that too,” she added, laughing.

We ate a bit longer and then mom brought out the dessert. It was a cake from one of the best bakeries in the area. They called it a lemonade cake, and it tasted really citrusy and sweet. My mom cut huge slices for all of us guys, completely ignoring the fact Aidan wouldn’t be able to eat it all. We continued to eat and talk.

“Aidan, play any sports?” my father asked.

“No, not currently. I was on the swim team at my old school.”

“Why’d you stop? The season is just starting for swimmers. You could join the team at Jackson.”

“He doesn’t want to, Dad,” I interjected hastily, kind of killing the flow of conversation. We finished eating dessert in a bit of an awkward silence.

For the most part, my brother Orrick had been disinterested in the conversation. My mother told him to start clearing the dishes. Orrick and I looked pretty similar. He and I had the same sandy brown hair and brown eyes. I was a little darker than he was though, and obviously bigger, but the family resemblance was definitely there. I wondered what the rest of Aidan’s family looked like. I knew his sister looked like him, and even Ryan was obviously his brother, but what about his other brother and his parents?

Once we finished dessert, we went up to my room. He had eaten about a third of his slice of cake before sliding it discreetly in my direction, and I happily ate it for him. He sat nervously on my bed, and it was surreal having him in my house. Orrick came in and spoke much more freely than he had at dinner.

“Hey Aidan, how old are you anyway?” he asked.

“I’m eighteen,” Aidan replied. “But I’ll be nineteen in April.”

“Whoa, really?” Orrick came and sat on the bed next to Aidan. “So you’re older than Oakley? I’d never have thought that.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Aidan said seriously, almost as if he were in an interview. Orrick was pretty outgoing and could be very in your face at times, but I didn’t think he did it on purpose. His personality tended to engulf a person if he was comfortable around them.

“So am I better looking than my brother?” he asked, smiling. “Cuz Oakley got hit with the ugly stick on the way out of the womb.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, walking over to him and punching him in the shoulder. “I should kick your ass, bitch boy.” I grabbed Orrick and put him in a headlock, flexing my arm to really make it uncomfortable. Orrick groaned theatrically, trying to get out of my grasp. Aidan tensed up considerably, his eyes wide and his lips pressed together anxiously. It was so obvious that even Orrick noticed. It was like he was scared or something.

“Aidan, are you okay?” Orrick asked. “I wasn’t really hurt. We were just playing around.”

“Orr, give us a minute.”

“Yeah, sure. See you later Aidan,” he said, giving me a worried look before he left my room, closing the door as he exited.

“Your family is very nice,” Aidan said.

“They’re alright.” He smiled and I sat next to him on the bed. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be anymore stiff, but he sat up even straighter. “You don’t have to act like this around me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” he said. “It just made me think about—nothing, I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you and now Orrick probably thinks there’s something wrong with me.”

“You’re fine,” I said. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I really did have a nice time,” he said.

“I did too, thanks for coming over.” He looked over at me. How could someone’s gaze feel so intimate? I felt my heart beating in my chest and my palms get slightly sweaty. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him. I had to.

I leaned over into him, my body pressing against his. I held back most of my bulk so I wouldn’t squish him. He kissed me back, his hands on my chest. I wondered if he could feel my heart beating through my meaty pecs. We made out for at least thirty minutes and it had me feeling pent up, but I took him home before it got too late.

“I hope I can meet your family one day,” I said. We sat outside of his house and he had ten minutes before his brother-mandated curfew.

“You’ve met Autumn and she’s the only one who matters to me.” That made me kind of sad. What about his mom and dad? I knew Ryan sucked, but didn’t he have another brother? “I’m not trying to ruin the mood.”

“You’re not,” I said. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Do you and Orrick always fight like that?” he asked.

“Yeah, but we’re only fucking around,” I said. “It made you feel a type of way, didn’t it?”

“It used to be like that, sometimes,” he said. “But that was when Autumn and I were really young. When Ryan and my other brother Kyle were teenagers, that’s when the play fighting stopped being just pretend.”

“Are you saying your brother hits you?” I asked, my blood boiling. I was usually a very level-headed person, but sometimes I could just feel a rage inside of myself that wanted to be released. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and it seemed like he was confirming my assumption.

“No,” he said finally. “He doesn’t.” I didn’t believe that, and it didn’t feel like Aidan did either.

“I don’t want you to ever feel afraid to tell me anything,” I said. I was still fuming, so I had to wrap my hands around the steering wheel to center myself. I could see myself marching up to Aidan’s front door and confronting Ryan myself. But I realized the situation wasn’t as black and white as I wanted it to be. I sucked at understanding the gray area of things.

He sighed and looked out the window towards his house. “My dad doesn’t really talk to us anymore,” he said. “He goes to work, comes home, gets drunk, and falls asleep in front of the TV. I don’t mind it though. He was awful when we were growing up. So hateful. Everything that came out of his mouth was so mean.” He looked over at me, his eyes sad just like the first day I saw him in homeroom. “That’s where Ryan gets it from. That’s why my other brother doesn’t come home from college. It’s why my mom left.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“My biggest goal in life is to find somewhere safe, where I don’t feel so on edge all the time.”

“I want you to feel as safe as I do with you,” I said. “I really like you, Aidan, and I want to be there for you through anything. I’ll protect you myself. I promise.”

“I told you that you were a superhero,” he said, sniffling. I hadn’t meant for this to make him cry. I was just being honest.

“I know it might be a little soon,” I started. “But I really want to know if I can call you my boyfriend.”

“I would love to be your boyfriend.” He smiled, looking over at me, his eyes still watery. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

That was when an alarm on his phone went off and he told me he had to go inside. He kissed me goodbye and once again I watched in frustration as he entered his front door.

Once Aidan and I decided that we were ready to be in a committed relationship, there was no stopping the flood of affection I felt for him. Everything was going so well that even my lingering suspicion of his brother had subsided. After Football ended in early December, I found myself with a lot of free time. Aidan still worked four days a week at Game Explosion, and it meant I hung around the mall a lot more often. I’d spend my time grazing at the food court, studying for classes to pass the time. I just had to maintain a strong GPA and I’d be attending the state school next fall on a partial football scholarship. It wasn’t anything to scoff at either; I’d only have to pay two grand out of pocket. We fell into a routine that I valued, able to see him much more frequently than when I had football to worry about. Christmas came and went, as did the new year and Valentine’s Day. In March, Aidan spent the entire spring break working, so we didn’t really get to do much together.

Next thing I knew we were in April. It happened sooner than I could have imagined. In less than two months we’d be graduating. I drove to the mall on a Saturday afternoon excited to see Aidan. It was his nineteenth birthday. He hadn’t really mentioned wanting to do anything for it, but I still wanted to make it special for him. Aidan wouldn’t be off for another hour or so. I wandered the food court before going to Game Explosion. I ordered a couple of cinnamon buns and a milk to hold me over until then.

With fifteen minutes left in his shift, I made my way to the arcade. It was pretty empty, and I wondered if arcades were going to become a thing of the past. They were already riding the wave of nostalgia, and I didn’t think the novelty of them could last forever. Then again, I sucked at arcade games so I could have been viewing Game Explosion from a place of bitterness. I didn’t see Aidan manning the prize counter, so I wandered the aisles in search of him. There was some burnt out looking sophomore playing one of those racing games that I was too tall and too fat for, but no Aidan.

I continued my search, thinking about how I was going to wow Aidan tonight. I had planned a romantic evening that would definitely make this birthday one to remember. We never got to be alone at my place, and we still had not hung out at his house after the Ryan-incident. I’d been saving my money for the past couple of weeks to make sure I could rent us a hotel room. We’d order room service and watch movies and be together without the fear that anyone would interrupt us. I was radiating happiness and I knew I needed to chill out so I could present the plan to him at the right time.

I finally found him, and he was playing a game called Dance Dance Revolution. It was the hardest thing I ever saw, and I wondered who would play something like this for fun. His legs were hitting every note, or I guess they would be steps. I noticed it was on expert.

He finished the song with an A. “Dang,” he mumbled. “I got too many greats.”

“Whoa, you're really good at this game.” He turned around to face me and smiled.

“You saw me playing?” He looked at the screen. “I should've gotten a Double A.” He wasn’t even sweating or out of breath. It was truly amazing.

“Yeah?” I looked at the score on the screen. “But an A is more than I'd ever be able to get.”

“Oakley, this is so embarrassing,” he said, laughing. “I only play when there’s nobody in here. I prefer to keep this a hidden talent.” He was crazy. If I could play this game without tripping over my feet and falling on my face, I’d tell everybody. He picked up his cardigan off the guardrail. “I'm off in ten minutes.”

“Cool, I’ll give you a ride and there’s something I’ve got to ask you.” I glanced over at the game again. “And maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

“Yeah, of course.” He set his cardigan down and turned his employee key in both key slots so the two pads would work. I removed my letterman jacket. We both stepped on and I already regretted my decision.

We finally left Game Explosion after an hour session of Dance Dance Revolution. The ten-minute teaching session ran long because Aidan was determined to help me get at least a D on beginner. I was really bad at that game; I couldn’t believe he was so good at it. I was really exhausted and sweaty afterwards.

“I think I’ll leave the dancing to you,” I said, walking through the mall parking lot towards my truck. I took off my letterman jacket and placed it on Aidan's shoulders. He put his arms into the sleeves, which were too long for him. I really wanted to see what he looked like in it, in my jacket. He was so cute. I felt my face go hot.

“This is really warm,” he said. “And it smells just like you.”

“Yeah?” I wanted to ask if that was a good or bad thing, but I just looked at the ground as we continued walking. “You look really good in that.”

“I think it looks better on you.” He grabbed my hand and we walked slowly in the darkening evening light. It felt like a big bowl of ice cream on a hot summer night. It felt like warm cookies at Christmastime. Being with Aidan was the best feeling in the world and I was thankful every single day that he chose me to share his beautiful aura with. I was starting to sound like my mom.

Once we were inside my truck, he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and I loved the way they felt on my own lips. I grabbed the back of his head, holding his face close to mine, kissing him again. We must have been sitting there for ten minutes, just kissing.

“I know you have your curfew and everything, but we’re both over eighteen, so I got us a hotel room for the night.” He looked away for a moment, then back at me. “It’s fine if it’s too much. I just know today’s your birthday and I wanted to celebrate with you.”

He probably wanted to celebrate with Autumn considering it would also be her birthday. It’d probably cause problems if he broke his curfew. I shouldn’t have tried to surprise him. It was probably too much. Now I just felt embarrassed for the both of us.

“I guess I have to go pack a bag for the night,” he said excitedly.

I had that big, goofy grin on my face again as I put the truck in drive. We drove to his house and I sat waiting as he went inside. He was still wearing my jacket and it was making me hard. Maybe I was a little possessive or something. I’d have to keep that quality in check.

He came bursting out of the front door, a bookbag in his hand. He sprinted over to my truck and got in quickly. He was laughing as he closed the door. I hadn’t seen him so carefree before and it made me happy that I was playing a role in that. “Autumn had already packed a bag for me,” he said. “I texted her while we were on our way here.”

I pulled off from the curb and made my way to the hotel. It was about twenty minutes away. “You make it seem like we’re pulling some sort of heist.”

“We’d be unstoppable with you leading the operation,” he said, laughing again, his smile shining bright in the dark night. “You could take out all the guys coming after us and I’d—I’d probably only get in your way.” His smile slowly began to fade. No! I wanted him to smile the entire night. I wanted him to smile so much tonight that he’d wake up tomorrow morning with sore cheeks.

“You can play that song you like,” I said. “It’s your birthday, so you’re DJ.” He connected his phone to the truck’s speakers, and we listened to SZA for the rest of the ride. I sang along with him, only knowing the hooks. I think it was cheering him up, taking his mind off of whatever had him feeling down. When we arrived at the hotel I went in and got everything situated.

Back at the truck I grabbed my overnight bag and the bag with all the stuff I needed for his celebration. He carried his own backpack, and we went up to our room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest hotel, but there were eight floors and even a swimming pool, though I was pretty sure we’d had enough of swimming pools.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this trouble for me,” he said as we rode in the elevator to the seventh floor.

“You deserve it,” I replied, feeling bold knowing we were alone with no possible distractions. “You do so much for me, it’s only right I show you that you’re appreciated.” I shifted the bag in my right hand to my left, so I’d have a free hand. I reached over and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him closer to me. My hand traveled down, resting at the top of his ass.

“I’ll have to make sure I plan something extra special for your birthday,” he replied, leaning into me. We arrived on our floor and made our way to the room.

There was one large bed in the room along with the other standard hotel room amenities. We set our bags on the bed and he rummaged through his slowly, grabbing items for a shower. That’d give me enough time to get things together for his surprise. “I won’t take long,” he said. “Could you play some music or something?”

“Yep, I got you.”

I turned on the TV and flipped to a random pop radio channel. I watched as he went into the bathroom and closed the door. I’d have about twenty minutes to get everything together. I had stopped at a party store earlier in the week to gather things for tonight. I had picked up his present as soon as the store called and let me know it was ready. The hotel room had a small table near the window, and I covered it in an iridescent tablecloth. I placed a small lemonade cake I bought in the middle and surrounded it with fun-size packages of candy. I’d also brought lots of other snacks for when we watched movies, but I didn’t feel the need to take them out yet.

I hung a happy birthday string banner along the curtain rods. I took a step back to look at the table area and I suddenly started feeling a little self-conscious. This was kind of lame, wasn’t it? He was turning nineteen, not nine. Why would he be impressed by any of this?

With not enough time for me to make any changes, he emerged from the bathroom in a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. His hair was pulled back in a poofy ponytail. He froze, looking at me next to my birthday display. “Surprise!” I shouted weakly.

He wasn’t saying anything, probably because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. “Oakley, this—this is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me,” he said, bringing his hands to his eyes to wipe away some stray tears.

I broke out into that big, goofy grin I got whenever I was around him. I was also getting hard looking at him in his little black briefs. I’d seen him in his swimsuit, but this was a million times better. “Do you want me to sing happy birthday now or after you get dressed?” I asked.

“How about you sing happy birthday to me in your birthday suit?”

“I don’t know about all of that,” I said laughing. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and walked towards me. He was standing right in front of me and I couldn’t believe someone so beautiful could be this close to me. We’d rarely had opportunities for alone time like this. After that time at his house, he’d given me head a few times and that wasn’t very often. It was only when we could plan out times when nobody would be at my house. I’d never even gotten completely naked in front of him before.

He grabbed the hem of my t-shirt with both hands and lifted it to the top of my gut. “You’re too tall for me to pull it all the way off,” he said. “Will you take it off for me?”

I pulled my shirt off and stood in front of him in a pair of gray sweats. I stepped out of my sneakers next. He brought his hands to my waist, feeling my love handles. His touch was very gentle and as flustered as he was making me feel, I was still incredibly aroused. He slid his hands into my underwear and pulled them down along with the sweatpants. I could feel the fabric resisting his effort around my meaty ass, but with a bit more force he was able to get me undressed. I stepped out of the fabric that was piled at my feet and stood naked in front of him.

I had always had a hard time reading him, but he seemed to be turned on which was a good sign. He looked at me with a focused stare. It was really intense. “Oakley, you are huge,” he said finally.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said, thinking about how much I’d been eating since the football season ended. When I weighed myself this morning, I was pushing 450 pounds.

“Don’t be sorry for giving me everything I want for my birthday—although I’d like to do this more often.” He placed his hands on my arms and I flexed them slightly, smiling timidly. I could see his dick jump in his briefs. “Fuck Oakley, you’re so damn sexy.” The next thing I knew he was trying to get his arms around me, grabbing my butt. My dick pressed against him, and I could feel pre-cum slicking against his smooth skin.

I could see us in the mirror attached to the door of the room. I knew I was bigger than him, obviously, but seeing us in the nude was surreal. I was wide, at least twice as wide as he was. It wasn’t like he was ridiculously small either, but I liked that I dwarfed him. He sunk into me, like I was a memory foam mattress. His skin was a little darker than mine and I ran my hands down his back. Looking at myself. Looking at him. I felt good. We looked good together in this moment.

“Take these off,” I said, grabbing at the waistband of his briefs and snapping them gently against his butt. He shimmied out of them and his dick stood at attention.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, looking up at me.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” I said. This was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I felt so present in the moment. I never wanted this to end, this sexual tension, this lust. “C’mere.”

I pulled him into my body, lifting him up. I walked him over to the bed and tossed him down gently. I looked down at him, my dick aching. “I’ve got—lube in my bag,” he said breathlessly.

I rummaged through his bag on the side of the bed and grabbed the lube. I prepped my dick and his hole. I couldn’t believe I was about to fuck him. I was going to fuck someone I was undeniably in love with.

Aidan flipped over onto his stomach before perching himself on all fours. His ass was immaculate. He had such a pert, bubble butt and I inserted myself slowly. “Is this okay?” I asked, easing my tip into him.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “It feels good Oakley.”

I didn’t have a small dick and I didn’t want to hurt him, but he said he was doing okay. I pushed a little more, only about halfway inside him. As good as it felt, I still worried if he was doing okay or not. “You can—you can push it in Oakley,” he said, his voice a little higher than he normally spoke. I was a little over nine inches, and his ass took the whole thing. I didn’t move at all, not wanting to do something wrong. Aidan moved his hips slowly, building momentum. He pounded himself against me, making my gut shake. I slapped his cheeks before grabbing at his waist. Looking down at my hands holding him, enveloping his body, was an image I’d have ingrained in my mind forever. The TV was still playing pop music, so I hoped it blocked out how loud we were. Aidan moaned my name over and over and it was sending me to a higher level of existence.

This boy was mine. All mine. He took my dick and moaned my name. Fuck.

I pulled out as I was about to cum and ejaculated all over his ass and lower back. I had sweat on my forehead and I could hear myself breathing. I was out of the moment but feeling less insecure than I thought I would. “Shit, you just showered,” I said, chuckling nervously.

“I can always shower again,” he said, climbing off of the bed. “But you need to get your energy up for round two. Time for cake.”

The rest of the night went amazingly after that. Aidan wouldn’t let me put my clothes back on, one of his birthday declarations, and his hands were all over me the entire night. I was convinced something was wrong with him because he actually seemed to like my body the way it was. I couldn’t have been any more fortunate, and maybe if Aidan liked how I looked, I could start to like it too. I kind of already did, and he was giving me the support to admit that.

I sang to him and we ate cake. We ordered pizza. We watched movies. We ate snacks. We laughed. We cuddled. We fucked again. We talked. We fucked some more.

“I got you a gift,” I said between sex sessions. It was one of those gold necklaces that said a person’s name. He opened a jewelry box with two necklaces. One that said Aidan and one that said Oakley.

“I’ll wear the one that says Aidan,” I said, grabbing the necklace with the longer, thicker chain. “I was hoping you’d wear the one that says Oakley.”

He put it on immediately, climbing on top of me and kissing me deeply. Of course this started things back up in a new position. I got to watch his face as he rode my dick, my name around his neck.

I knew then for sure that I loved him.

At some point we fell asleep. The next morning we straightened things up a bit in the room and checked out. I slipped my jacket onto his shoulders again, wanting to let the world know who he belonged to. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him, but he had to get home to get ready for work.  

I wanted to spend every single minute with Aidan. It wasn’t fair we had to live in separate places. I couldn’t wait for college next year. Aidan had applied to the same school once I told him about my scholarship. We’d get to pick our housing next month, and hopefully we’d end up in the same dorm room. Just the thought of living with him was making me overly excited.

“Thanks again for everything,” he said. “That was the best night of my life.”

“Mine too,” I agreed.

We sat for a moment. He turned towards me and I knew he was trying to kiss me. I leaned over as well, and our lips met. I couldn’t believe this was getting me so hard considering how many times I came last night, but I wasn’t complaining. “I love you,” he said.

We hadn’t said that to one another yet. I had been wanting to say it for months. He had my mouth turning to mush again.

“I love you too Aidan,” I managed to get out, feeling emotional. He smiled, and it made me feel warm on the inside.

“I guess I should get going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” I asked.

“We barely got any sleep last night,” he said, laughing. “You go home and rest. I’ll text you later.”

“Can I at least pick you up?” I begged, sticking out my lower lip.

“How can I say no to a face like that?” He laughed. “You don’t play fair.”

He got out of my truck and closed the door gently. He waved goodbye as he walked towards his front door. I looked at him in my jacket and grinned like a total dweeb. I had the cutest boyfriend in the whole world. He went inside, and I was going to make my way home, but I noticed Aidan’s phone in the passenger’s seat. The screen was going off like he was receiving notifications, but it wasn’t ringing on vibrating. I guess he had set it to silent last night.

I picked it up, killed the truck’s engine, and got out to take it to him. It was a pleasant April morning, not too cold, but slightly breezy. I looked down at his phone and his home screen displayed 30 missed calls and a bunch of unread texts from his brother. That was definitely weird.

I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something bad was going to happen. The wind blew and I realized Aidan was still wearing my letterman jacket.

I could hear Ryan yelling as I made my way up to the door. “You’re wearing his fucking shit now too!?” he yelled angrily. “You gonna walk around proud to be his bitch!?”

“Ryan, just leave me alone,” Aidan responded, his voice shaking. The door was still slightly ajar. Ryan hadn’t even closed the door before he started going ballistic.

“Don’t you touch him!” Autumn screamed in her shrill voice. Glass broke.

“Autumn, you bitch. If I fucking cut myself, you’re next.” I waited by the door. I wanted to go in, but I didn’t. What if this made things worse for Aidan? What if he didn’t want me to do anything? “Give me the jacket.”

“No,” Aidan said firmly. “Fuck you.”

“Give me the fucking jacket.”

“It’s not mine to give,” Aidan retorted. “It’s my boyfriend’s.” I heard a thump, like someone getting pushed against a wall.

“Stop it!” Autumn hollered. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I opened the door and stood there taking in the scene. I saw Ryan pressing Aidan against a wall, grabbing at my letterman jacket. There was a broken picture frame on the ground near Ryan’s feet.

“That’s my jacket,” I barked. “I gave it to Aidan, not you.”

“Get out of here you big faggot,” Ryan spat at me. I didn’t care he insulted me. But he still held Aidan against the wall, pushing even harder now that I was there. He shifted so that his forearm was against Aidan’s throat. It caused his necklace to become untucked from underneath his shirt.

“Oakley,” Aidan choked out. “It’ll be okay. You can go.” He looked so scared there was no way I could just go. Autumn looked over at me, her eyes frantic. She shook her head no, letting me know she didn’t think I should leave. Ryan noticed the Oakley necklace and ripped it from Aidan’s neck, banging him against the wall again in anger.

I strode over to where they stood and pulled Ryan off of Aidan, who scrambled to pick up his broken necklace from the pile of shattered glass. I had lost control. Everything was tinged in red I was so enraged. I punched Ryan in the face, and he stumbled back. I caught him by his shirt and punched him again, this time in the stomach. I could feel my whole body on fire. I had to stop but I couldn’t. Not after seeing firsthand how he treated Aidan. I lifted him up off of the ground and pressed his body against the same wall he’d just had Aidan pinned against. I brought him close to me before banging his weak, worthless body against the wall again, denting the drywall. This guy was scrawny; he couldn’t have weighed much more than Aidan. “Don’t touch him ever again,” I roared. His eyes were wide. I didn’t think he was used to being a victim. I tossed him onto the glass, coming back to my senses.

I turned to look at Aidan and Autumn. They stared at me with wide eyes, the deer-in-the-headlights twins. I must’ve looked scary. I handed Aidan his phone from my back pocket and walked out of the house. What had I just done? I’d probably ruined things with Aidan. I’d probably get arrested. My scholarship would be taken away. I’d never get to live in a dorm room with Aidan.

Aidan followed me out of the door first, followed by Autumn who stopped to kick Ryan in his side.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said once we were standing near my truck. I tugged at my t-shirt, noticing that it had ridden up during the altercation.

“For what!?” Aidan and Autumn said in unison, perfectly in sync.

“I just wanted to help, and I lost control,” I said, breathing deeply. “I probably fucked everything up.”

“You saved me,” Aidan said. “And I’m glad you did.”

“Shit, me too,” Autumn added. “I didn’t know what he was going to do to Aidan. He hasn’t been this mad ever.” I gave a sigh of relief and Aidan came to embrace me. He held onto me tightly, and I squeezed him just as hard.

We spent the rest of that morning cleaning up their foyer and waiting for Ryan’s retaliation. About two hours after everything went down, he came and told Aidan that he wasn’t to ever speak to him again. And from what I’ve heard he hasn’t said a word to Aidan since.

Apparently, I broke his nose, and I wanted to feel bad, but he deserved that and so much more. Aidan finally told me the whole story about how Ryan had never approved of his “lifestyle” and had spent every moment since he’d come out as an opportunity to harass him about it. He’d suggested different therapies and programs to help Aidan live his life differently. It was total bullshit.

Autumn had plans to transfer to a school on the west coast in the fall, feeling that if Aidan were taken care of, she could have peace of mind. Aidan accepted his admission to the school I’d be playing football for and we’d be filling out housing applications next week. Prom was less than a month away and graduation was fast approaching.

I started hitting the gym hard again to prepare for the summer training camps, but my relationship weight wasn’t really going anywhere. I’d probably be a little bit bigger by the time the season started. I liked to think the extra weight made me better at looking out for Aidan.

I had reached the end of my rom-com, but thankfully this wasn’t a movie. This was my life. And it was only the beginning for me and Aidan. Our relationship still had so many more amazing moments that wouldn’t make it into the film. There was still room for sequel after sequel, and just like me, they’d just keep getting bigger and better.  

The End!