#male weight gain stories

[malewgtfstories]

Hairy!!!

Before anything a shoutout to "@randy1790" for this wonderful idea. 

 A clear day reflected off the clean windowpanes of Alexanders' mansion. He had a strange encounter with an old withering hairy man. You see Alexander was a spoiled white rich kid. He was a snob to people around him. Little did he know his antics would lead to something much worse. His crude and dehumanizing treatment of others would bite him in the ass.

The old man was sitting at the bus stop across from Alexander's house. He looked like a man with low status and his clothes mirrored that thought. Alexander found the sight of the old man to be repulsing. He hated the idea of a useless old slob being inside of his neighborhood. He noticed that throughout his outfit something stuck out like a sore thumb—a necklace in the man's pocket. Alexander assumed the old man had stolen it. Thus he thought that stealing it from him would be "cleansing the community". Next thing you know Alexander is crossing the street to perform his wicked deed. Alexander slipped to sit next to the man and as he sat there he noticed how hairy the man was. He looked like a goddam gorilla. This made Alexander even more invested in wanting to get that necklace . He swiftly without the old man noticing swiped the man's necklace out of the man's pocket and laughed at his face.

"Look what I got from you. You dirty, lazy, old slob."

"Gi-give it back. It's mine you, clueless buffoon."

"I find it quite comedic that someone as poor as you would have this designer neckless. Are you sure it's yours?"

"Yes, now give it back."

"I don't think so. It's mine now. No one at your level should deserve something as pretty as me."

"I will warn you, boy. This necklace is something you should not play with. You will receive dire consequences. I'm warning you now to get rid of it as soon as possible if not you will fall to the curse of the previous owners."

Alexander scoffed. "This man is bluffing," Alexander thought to himself. As soon as the man finished his warning the bus came, and the old man entered the bus. Deep down Alexander felt like the old man's warning had meaning. Unfortunately, Alexander's alter ego got the best of him, and he put the necklace on himself. Once he put it on, he felt a shiver down his spine but believed it was nothing. Little did he know the change had just begun. 

It began with his weight. His once fully abbed torso began to inflate with mounds of fat. Layer after layer hid his once Greek god-like physic. For the first time, he felt the feeling of love handles. Alexander's stomach begins to be full of stretch marks. Each one to signify each pound he gained. His stomach quickly went from a beer belly to a gainer belly. It was a huge mound of fat unlike before. Next were his beautifully trained legs. One of Alexander's greatest accomplishments. They began to turn into tree tucks to hold the massive pressure they were under. Likewise, both his ass and arms were plumped up with pounds of fat. It looked like he had always been the "fat" kid when growing up. Alexander was horrified by the transformation. He didn't know that the transformation had just begun. Next was the gain of body hair. Something Alexander despised. Because of the dense forest that encoded every inch of his body, he realized a strong musk that was permanently entangled with the locks that made his body.

The olfactory that was produced by his manly body slowly began to change Alexander. Alexander was dead Alex took his place. He didn't live in a mansion he lived in the slums of the city. He no longer feared being a hairy lazy slob. If anything, he strived to be an even hairier lazier slob. Thanks to the necklace he could do it.

(Later that day)

As Alex sat on his worn-out couch he stared at his TV. Letting his brain rot to the hypnotic and dumbfounded content. He heard a knock on the door. And low and behold the old man from the bus stop stared right back at him.

"I told you the consequences were great. Now you look like a fat and useless slob just like me."

"Thanks for opening my eyes, man. I look so fucking hot. Don't you thin —BRRAAAAAAAAPPPP!!”

"Damn, you do look like a slob. I came to tell you good news. This stone gives you the power to seek your deepest desire. It seems it like to pervert your dream and sometimes it tends to over exaggerate."

"Wait so I can have whatever I want."

"Well, not exactly it..."

"I WISH TO HAVE THE POWER TO WARP REALITY. Now then since I have my wish. My first act is to punish you. Since you left me all alone. From now on you will never leave me side."

"What do you mean? Stop! Let go. STOPPPPPPPPPPP!!!"

That was the last time people ever saw the old man. Well, at least in his human form. The old man became part of the dense forest of hair that made up Alex's chest. Alex's hair density exponentially increased. As hair started to multiply. He looked like a real-life bear. The old man at first was disgusted by the idea of being stuck in the musky scent that came from Alex's pores. But after a while, he started to enjoy the feeling of musk. It turned him on. He loved the feeling of being wet. He came to enjoy the life Alex offered him. Deep down the old man knew the reason he was stuck there was because of the necklace above him, but he came to terms with his new life. From now on he was part of Alex. Whether he liked it or not.

[bellyjunkiesblog]

Once upon a time, there was a guy named Noah who was slim and excited for Christmas Eve. His family had a tradition of leaving cookies out for Santa Claus, but Noah was told not to eat them because something bad might happen. However, curiosity got the better of him.

As night fell, Noah couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He tiptoed downstairs, his heart pounding with excitement. He found the plate of delicious cookies and started devouring them one by one. At first, everything seemed normal, but then Noah started feeling a strange sensation in his stomach.

To his surprise, his stomach began expanding, and he could feel himself growing fatter with each bite. Despite the strange feeling, Noah couldn't stop himself. The cookies were just too irresistible. As he continued eating, his Christmas pajamas started to strain against his new belly.

Unaware of what was happening, Noah kept munching away, completely absorbed in the taste of the cookies. Little did he know, someone had put a spell on those cookies. The spell was designed to make whoever ate them gain weight.

As Noah's belly grew larger and larger, he finally began to notice something was amiss. His pajamas felt tighter, and he could no longer ignore the fact that he was getting bigger. Panic started to set in, but his love for the cookies was too strong to resist.

Eventually, Noah finished the entire plate of cookies, his belly now round and full. It was only then that he discovered the truth about the spell. He realized that he had been tricked into eating those enchanted cookies.

Feeling a mix of regret and curiosity, Noah wondered how he would undo the effects of the spell. But for now, all he could do was embrace his newfound belly and hope for a solution in the coming days. And so, with a full stomach and a lesson learned, Noah drifted off to sleep, awaiting the surprises that awaited him on Christmas morning. 🎅🍪🎄

[pecanwriter]

Big Boy Mode: Activated

Themes: rapid weight gain, humiliation kink, technology-induced weight gain (so like, magic weight gain but for sci fi nerds I guess)

Words: 2947

Part: 1/?

"Hello, sir, would you like to hear about our newest product, the most revolutionary nanotechnology to date?"

Elliott really wasn't one to ever let some marketing lackey torment him with semi-logical babble about something he didn't even want to buy. But he was a technology whore, and just the mere mention of nanotechnology had him nearly salivating at the mouth.

He smiled at the promoter, stepping closer and trying to look at all the flashing screens at once. 

"Introducing SimNano or Simulator Nano. This revolutionary technology is the newest hit in terms of body augmentation and we're making record sales all around the globe."

The promoter pulled something from his pad to one of the screens. 

"The way this works, we inject nanobots into your body and connect their signature to your personalised control panel as well as a wristband, the wristband sold separately." 

He watched as on the screen a scrawny shirtless man selected a holographic projection of his body and added 50% more muscle to the model. He clicked "Active Mode" at the bottom of the screen and for a moment his entire body rippled in an unfamiliar way until he stood there completely buffed out, Captain America style.

Elliott blinked. He looked from the freshly buffed-out man to the promoter.

"How does that work?"

"The nanobots we inject into the client's system are capable of replication and imitation of any human tissue. However, they are only capable of growing, not shrinking, it's not a diet pill as many would hope so." The promoter laughed at his own poor joke.

Elliot chuckled obligingly but the phrase "they are only capable of growing" was bouncing around in his head trying to make him hard. 

"Is there a limit to what they can imitate? For example, if someone was missing a leg…?" He chose his words carefully, hoping the man would fall for his set-up and tell him exactly what he wanted.

The man's gaze flickered down to Elliot's leg and although Elliot had no such thing, he let the man assume he had a prosthetic. It was an unassuming lie, didn't hurt anyone, it was just better than even a sliver of the truth.

"Oh, they're absolutely capable of replicating a leg. As I said, they can imitate any human tissue, muscles, nerves, fat, even bones…"

When he said the f-word Elliot's cock jerked awake and he had to cover his crotch with the shopping bag he was holding.

"And are the changes permanent…?"

"No, that's not how it works, It's imitating and replicating the tissue in Active Mode, but as soon as it's Deactivated everything goes back to normal."

Elliot's cock was throbbing as he fought to maintain perfectly normal eye contact with the promoter.

"And while it's active, does it feel real or is it like a hologram or a model or…"

"Oh no, It feels absolutely real, that's why we are the leading company in…"

He prattled on but Elliot didn't listen, all he could think of was the phrase "it's only capable of growing" as his cock throbbed.

"How much is it?"

It was bloody expensive, as it turned out. Elliott put a sizable dent in the savings he was putting away to get a mortgage on a single-bedroom flat. But somehow, all he felt was excitement, there was no shame or regret to be found anywhere.

After he made his purchases he had to go to their branch store and get injected with nanobots. The syringe wasn't that big and he wondered if it would be enough firepower for what he had in mind. They scanned his body thoroughly to put the model into his pad and wristband and connect the nanobots to it. As a trial, the shopping clerk showed him how to give himself impressive biceps and everyone present at the shop oohed and awed at the result. 

The promoter was right, it felt absolutely real. The rippling Sensation Elliott saw in the video felt only like a slight cold tingling under his skin and then within seconds the impressive biceps appeared.

He deactivated his SimNano, thanked the clerk and left, struggling to walk straight with his dick pressing hard against his trousers.

When he came home he almost immediately tore off his shirt. He brought out the control panel on the band with shaking hands and clicked on the scrawny little model of himself. He moved his finger around, highlighting his midriff and ass. He clicked "expand" and then in the tissue subcategory he clicked "fat" instead of the pre-selected "muscle". You could put the desired amounts in body percentages or in units of measurement. He clicked on lbs, the most precise one, and tapped in 20(9kg). Then after a moment's hesitation, he erased it and clicked 40lb(18kg) instead.

With shaking fingers he clicked "Active Mode" and his skin began to tingle with the cold sensation. Seconds later Elliott was staring down at a round, fat gut and he could feel his boxers strain mercilessly against his expanded ass. 

He put the pad away gently and grabbed the ball of flab at his front. He was never this fat in his life, but it felt real enough, from what he could guess. He lifted the stomach and let it drop, watching it jiggle and wobble. A moan escaped him. He couldn't believe this was happening. 

Before even getting a look in the mirror Elliott fell to the couch, frantically gnawing his flesh with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He never came this hard in his entire life. 

He finally managed to pull himself up into standing, revelling in how his gut was suddenly in the way and looked in the mirror. 

He laughed, the effect was ridiculous. Although his belly and ass looked fantastic and absolutely realistic, it looked ludicrous on his scrawny body which remained unchanged.

Elliott deactivated the band and reset the model. After a moment’s hesitation, he selected his entire body “Increase by 100% body mass” and selected “fat” in the tissue category. He considered carefully and finally decided to increase his ass and gut separately on top of increasing the fat equally around his entire body. 

Elliott’s finger hovered over the band, but before clicking the Activate button he checked the measurement box again and changed 100% to 200lb. Again, before clicking it, he wavered and finally ended up changing it to 300lb(136kg) with sweaty fingers. Adding 300lb to his meagre 132lb(60kg) would put him at a glorious 432lb(195kg), a fulfilment of a fantasy Elliott had since before he was even consciously aware of it. 

Eliott pressed the Activate button.

He was still standing in front of the mirror and he let out a gasp as the nanobots went to work, making his entire body shiver with the unfamiliar coldness, the feeling much more overwhelming with tasking them to simulate 300lb instead of a measly 40 he attempted at first. 

Elliott watched with intense, nearly blinding fascination as his body rippled slightly and moments later exploded into folds and bulges and rolls, becoming an unrecognisable mountain of flesh. He stared at the enormous gut, too heavy to be completely round as it hung in front of him almost like a massive, engorged flesh apron. His face was unrecognisable, swallowed by an enormous double chin and chubby cheeks, melting into the fat around his neck seamlessly. The man in the mirror couldn’t be him, could he? It was too good to be real… The fat man lifted his arm as Elliott lifted his, only his arm never had an enormous wing of fat hanging off it and jiggling as he moved. When Elliott moved his normal arm it didn’t send his entire massive body into wobbles, but the man in the mirror sure wobbled like an impressive jello dessert. 

Elliott grabbed his gut, an enormous, almost all-encompassing mound of flesh hanging in front of him. He grabbed it, lifted it as much as he could and dropped it. The way the flesh shook and jiggled forced a moan out of him. Already half-hard again, he inched closer to the mirror. Elliott could barely move under the unknown sensation of this immense bulk and he almost stumbled into his mirror, nearly crushing it. Just the half step made his heart race with excursion and his lungs begged for air. 

This SimNano thing was worth every penny, in fact, Elliott thought they were losing money. It was too good to be real. 

He turned off Active Mode, in a few seconds staring back at this familiar skinny self with an impressive hard-on. 

Staring intently, eager to catch every little detail, he pressed Activate again. 

Watching his body explode with fat, filling out with blubber in mere seconds and leaving him unrecognisable was so impossibly erotic that he climaxed just from turning the SimNano off and on again, watching himself gain hundreds of pounds in seconds. 

After he managed to somehow climax three times within the span of an hour he decided it was enough for one day, he was starting to feel light-headed. 

He tapped Deactivate. 

Nothing happened. 

He tapped it again. Still, nothing.

He stared at the band, but it appeared to be frozen. Frantically, he started waddling unsteadily to his backpack where the main SimNano pad was. Walking across the room to his bag while suddenly 300lb heavier was incredibly difficult and equally, if not more, arousing. His giant thighs were rubbing against each other, he could feel he was hitting his enormous apron of a gut with each clumsy step… The enormous behind he’d given himself jiggled with every step and so did his soft, blubbery tits. 

When he finally made it to his back and retrieved his pad Elliott was nearly ready to collapse with how out of breath he was. 

The pad was as frozen as the band was. 

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into the mirror across the room. He was enormous, there was no way he could leave the house like this and he had a night shift at the bar today. 

It was 5 p.m., and he had work at 8, so technically, he still had time. He could just… Indulge for a while while waiting for the SimNano to unfreeze. 

Elliott laboriously waddled to the bedroom. He had a few pieces of massive clothing he sometimes wore while stuffing it with pillows and pretending he was huge. He pulled on a pair of tracksuit trousers. They could barely encompass his enormous ass. Even the biggest of his secret fetish shirts was snug on him now and his monstrous gut was happily hanging out at the bottom. 

The flat needed tidying up and he also had to cook to have something to eat after his shift when he would undoubtedly be too tired to do anything. 

He began busying himself around the house, every little chore making him hornier than the last one. Everything was a thrill, trying to wipe dust off the higher shelves and feeling how his enormous gut was hanging further and further out of his shirt, trying to wash dishes and finding that he could barely reach into the sink with the enormous mound of blubber in the front of him. When he went to clean the plastic shower door, something that he meant to do all week, he nearly got stuck in the narrow space and instead of trying to find the best angle to free himself he rubbed against the shower wall, making himself cum just with the friction against his fat body. He would’ve jerked himself off if the was any hope of reaching his penis under all that flesh, which there absolutely wasn’t.

With all the chores completed and with food prepped for later, Elliott went to check on the pad. It was still frozen. It was 7.20 pm.

He called in sick and trying not to freak out about it just yet he repositioned the mirror closer to the couch where he planted his enormous ass and began rubbing his flesh. 

There was no need to freak out, he was sure the NanoSim would reset overnight. 

*

Elliott woke up still on the couch and still as enormous as when he drifted off, exhausted by the almost constant sexual tension of the previous day. 

He tapped the band. Frozen. The pad proved to be in a similar state. 

Elliott tried calling the NanoSim Technical Support but they told him that there was nothing they could do remotely because there were health hazards involved, so he would have to come to one of their stores to get it reset. 

Which meant… Going outside as a 432lb man. 

Elliott ate his modest breakfast of a skinny man and wondered how it would look to an outsider, a guy who was nearly half-tone of blubber eating a modest portion of oatmeal. 

Before leaving the house he pulled on a beanie and didn’t shave his unimpressive stubble. There was no way anyone would recognise him, but he still didn’t want to risk it. 

His heart was pounding so hard that it was all he could hear as Elliott stepped out into the hallway. 

Usually, Elliott just took the stairs from the second floor he lived on, but there was no way he was going to take the stairs today, he could barely move with all that unfamiliar weight on him, his waddle almost a caricature of itself. 

There was a lady in the lift and when the doors opened she frantically looked between Elliott and the lift control panel informing all the passengers that the weight limit was 500lb. She was slim, but there was no way she was less than 100lb. 

“You go on” Elliott smiled at her and she pressed the button to close the door almost frantically. 

He wasn’t sure if he actually WAS 432lb or if the nanobots just made it appear so to him, but he wasn’t going to risk it. 

There was an Uber waiting for him, but Elliott had to cancel the ride when it turned out that he couldn’t fit in the car. 

With his dick painfully hard and trapped between mounds of flesh he selected a different ride, making sure it was big enough to accommodate for a massive hog like him. He barely fit and his gut filled his lap completely. The driver was visibly disgusted and Elliott’s already painfully hard dick throbbed under his apron belly. 

Waddling and puffing his way through the shopping centre to the SimNano store was the most humiliating and gratifying experience of his life. Everyone, without exception, stared at the giant man barely waddling his way through the halls, his too-small shirt riding up his enormous gut and his face flushed with the effort of putting all that blubber into motion. 

When he finally made it to the store he was heaving, his breath rasping and his entire body sticky with sweat. 

The only person in the store was the clerk, a teak-skinned man with a mop of black curls and bright, quick eyes. He was very much Elliott’s type and the fact that he had to talk to a handsome guy while his enormous gut hung out of his shirt and he was so out of breath was arousing beyond all reason. 

“Hello, I’m Omar, how can I help you?” 

“Hi, I… uff.. Sorry… I have a problem with my SimNano, the program froze last night and it’s still frozen.” He handed the man his pad, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Let’s see here…” Omar took his pad from him and when he saw the program the SimNano was frozen on he slowly looked back up at Elliott, his lips stretching into a mischievous grin. Elliott felt like his entire face was on fire. Somehow it didn’t dawn on him that the clerk would see the program he was running. If he could, he’d bolt it out of the store in embarrassment, but he couldn’t, not when he was this massive. 

“Let me just do some troubleshooting here.” Omar said, his smirk still on his face as he plugged the device into a PC and started clicking. 

“Alright,” he said a few minutes later. “It looks like I got it, but let me just check…” 

“What…”

Elliott watched with growing terror as Omar proceeded to add another 50lb(22kg) to his program and activating it. Elliott staggered back, feeling his gut hanging marginally lower, the waistband of his tracksuit digging just that much deeper into his blubber. 

“Just to double check, better to be sure.” Omar said, adding another 50 on top of that. 

Elliott had to grab onto the counter as the enormous weight started to threaten to topple him to the ground. He was heaving just from the sheer effort of standing up.

Omar’s cheeky grin was turning downright mischievous. 

“I think it’s working now.” the clerk said, bringing the program down to its original +300lb setting. 

“T-thank you…” Elliott panted, taking his pad back and thanking all the Gods that his gut hid his erection. 

As he was waddling back to the entrance Omar’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Ey, fat boy.” 

That nickname alone nearly made Elliott give an ungainly moan, right there in the middle of the shopping centre.

“Y-yes?” “Give me your number, I write NanoSim codes in my spare time and big improvement to the overall experience. I mean…. Huge improvements.” 

Omar’s grin was pure evil and Elliott was sure his own was no better as he gave the handsome man his number.

This was going to be fun. 

PART 2

[bigwishes]

Size Trade

was talking about getting massive with @samir-the-dumb-jockboyeee and since he turned him into a giant hulk of a man I think I should do the same.

First I think you'd be better with some mixed heritage from the middle east, nice tan skin, thick black hair all over your body, making it hard to wash any B.O off, but you cant be small and naturally sweaty so I think we better beef you up.

there we go!! starting to look good but I dunno man, you still seem not quite right. Maybe we'll make a few more adjustments. First too tall I think a better way to make you look bigger is to push you down a few inches, maybe to 5ft exactly, a short king with the same amount of mass, but its still not enough, I think you deserve another 60 pounds of mixed muscle and fat pushed onto your body and I know you got a think for guys with big feet so I can't let you go without atleast being a size 20 but I still think you might be small, ya know down stares so why dont we beef you up like you've shoved a basket ball in your pants.

Id say we've gone far enough but chatting with you I know you say you want a guy to ruin you so lets go all in, go big or go home. Again you dont look beefy enough, I think we just need to keep adding size until you find it hard to move.

Much better, and from the sounds of furniture it sounds like you might have to spend a few grand ordering some reinforced stuff because if you get stuck on your back you'll find it hard to get up at all.

But I don't think we've ruined you yet.

How about some more body hair, and lets make you sweat like a fucking pig and stink like an ogre. You feet dripping with sweat leaving puddles behind you, every step results in a deep breath like you are climbing a mountain. Anyone who looks at you will see the massive stink cloud circling you at all times and people might even laugh at the man who's wider than he is tall trying to squeeze through doors.

Sweaty, rank, hairy, short and wide? is that ruined enough for you? or maybe I should make you a lil shorter and ad another 50 pounds hahaha, enjoy man.

[gayerthangayer]

Taking a Few for the Team

I've always had a fantasy about a sports team breeding one of the players, transferring all their fat to the one player. It's a work in progress, but here's the first part! Contains male weight gain & sex, and some bloating/gas.

Part two is here.

Exhausted, Aaron made his way out of his last class of the semester. Walking outside onto the cold winter afternoon, he admired how nice the snow looked across his college campus. Unfortunately, there was no snow on the indoor soccer field. His coach had insisted that the team practice tonight one last time before winter break.

Even though he only considered himself to be an average player on his team, Aaron enjoyed soccer. It was nice to have something going on other than his classes, and Aaron got along well with his teammates. His best friend Jess would always poke fun at him asking when he was going to hook up with the other players since they always acted so gay around each other. He didn’t mind though, since they were all cool with him being out as gay. His teammates would joke about it sometimes but only ever in jest.

He made his way back to his apartment he shared with Jess to grab his soccer bag, then he was off to practice. It went like any other, but near the end his coach made a point to tell all the boys they had better make sure and watch what they ate over the holiday break. “I don’t need you all to have to go harder at practice than you already will when you get back.” He figured he was being self-conscious, but Aaron felt like that statement had been directed at him. He was sure the coach made the most eye contact with him when he said that to everyone.

At 5’11 and fairly muscular, he was still definitely athletic. But with exams and everything going on, Aaron found himself stress eating more than usual. He had gained about 10 pounds since the start of the semester. It didn’t bother him, if anything it was just a good bulk that he could cut and gain some muscle mass if he hit the gym hard enough over the break. But his already small uniform shorts were definitely struggling with his slightly larger butt. His tops were definitely tighter too, but if he sucked in his belly it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Shit, I was really looking forward to eating good the next couple of weeks,” said Jared in the locker room after practice. “But you guys heard him, if I can’t then you can’t either.”

Jared is the team captain, who Aaron had a crush on. He was tall and muscular, and somehow ever so slightly tan even in the winter. He was assertive but also kind and understanding. It’s no wonder the team looked up to him.

“My girlfriend’s mom makes the best desserts! What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him” complained Trevor. With a great sense of humor, he and Aaron were pretty good friends. Aaron was also a pretty good wingman for Trevor, which he appreciated. 

“Yeah it’ll be hard. I’m not sure what I’ll do when my mom makes her famous pork roast. But think of how much better shape we’ll be in compared to the other teams once spring season starts” said Jared.

“Shit, you two are making me hungry” said Aaron as he took off his top.

“Look, just don’t overdo it, man” said Jared. Aaron could have sworn that Jared shot a quick glance at Aaron’s belly, but just like before he tried to write it off as being self-conscious.

He finished changing and headed back out into the cold night. On his drive home, he thought about his workout plans for the break. Like most of the other guys, he and his family both lived nearby to the school, so it’s not like he would have to give up the gym for a month. But also in the back of his mind, he knew that it wouldn’t matter, he probably wouldn’t go anyway.

—----------------------------

The last couple days of break came faster than he expected. Aaron was seriously not ready for classes and soccer practice to start back up again. In between hanging out with Jess and also his family, Aaron had spent a few nights drinking beers and playing video games with Trevor. It was nice to become closer as friends. But also, to hang out without feeling pressure from the team about somehow gaining more weight. He knew Trevor didn’t care, but Aaron was terrified about how he was going to explain to the coach why he could barely squeeze into his shorts and jersey.

Trying it on before their practice that night, Aaron could see in his mirror that there was now no hiding the fact that he did not spend a minute in the gym all month. Or that he had completely ignored his coach’s advice not to overindulge in his mom’s delicious cooking. His shorts were straining to cover his now very round ass, and his jersey was completely showing off his new belly and love handles. His pecs were now larger looking as well. “Dammit!” he muttered to himself. He was definitely a little chubby now. But even though he was nervous about his team’s judgment, somehow he felt a bit sexier? He’d always liked men with some meat on their bones, but had never really considered that look for himself. But damn, something about how he was filling out his uniform made his shorts even tighter…

But without much time to think about it, he rushed out the door to get to practice. Somehow he was already running late.

After getting to practice, Aaron was relieved. It looked like all the other guys had spent the holiday more or less exactly like he did. Especially Jared, who now had a bit of a pudgy belly along with slightly pronounced love handles under his jersey. He liked to wear a smaller size to show off his muscles Aaron suspected, but now it was just showing off his mom’s many desserts he had eaten.

Coach definitely noticed the guys’ different physiques as well, and seemed irritated that the team was doing their exercises slower than usual. At the end of practice, after a short conversation with Jared, the coach pulled all the guys into a quick meeting.

“Look, I know I told you boys not to overdo it with eating over the break…” said the coach, with an exasperated tone in his voice “but this is ridiculous. We are going to have to do something about it.”

“Yes coach…” the team said meekly, knowing full well what they had done.

“So here is the deal. Jared and I have come up with a plan to get you boys back in shape in time for spring season. Be ready to do whatever it takes! That’s it for today’s practice, but it won’t be as easy next time!”

While changing in the locker room, Aaron reflected on what coach had told them. ‘Do whatever it takes?’ Aaron was already dreading the next practice and he hadn’t even left this one. Being the chubbiest one on the team, he knew whatever coach had in store was not going to be easy.

“Way to go, fatass” Trent said angrily, poking Aaron in his soft belly. “Now we are going to have to work out twice as hard because of you.” Trent was a player that could get pretty heated in the game, but Aaron had never had Trent get confrontational with him off the field. So this was definitely a first that Aaron didn’t know how to handle. 

“I… I don’t…” stammered Aaron, blushing a little in embarrassment. He didn’t know what to do.

“Whoa calm down man” Trevor came and stood between the two. “Look, we’ve all put on a few over the holiday. I know I at least have a little beer belly now.” Trevor said, making a point to grab the little bit of belly fat he had gained and laughed. “It’s all good. We’ll get back in shape in no time.”

“He’s right, it’s not the end of the world” chimed in Jared. “Coach and I put a plan together, and it’ll definitely be faster than a normal training regimen. We should do great this season.”

“And how the hell are we going to pull that off?” demanded Trent “Other than working out twice as hard, what are we supposed to do?”

“We haven't worked out the formula just yet, but I’m sure we can do it. Just listen to me and coach. We have a plan.” said Jared, with more of his assertive-team-captain tone than before. He was still positive as usual, but Trent could tell this conversation was over.

Formula? That was an odd choice of words, thought Aaron later that night. What did he mean?

All Aaron knew was Trent poking his belly and calling him a fatass earlier was somehow… insanely hot. Fuck, why was it so hot!? If Trevor hadn’t stood in front of him, his boner in his boxer briefs would have been on full display for the whole team to see. Thankfully his normally eight incher was now slightly smaller from his new encroaching fat pad.

That night, he beat himself off grabbing his belly and playing that scene over and over in his head…

The next day, Aaron got a group text from Jared.

'Hey everyone, team meeting tonight at my place. Be there at 7.'

'Damn' Aaron thought to himself. 'What is so important we couldn't have gone over it yesterday?!' 

Regardless, team meetings at Jared's house usually ended up being more of a kickback than a meeting. The guys all usually brought a few beers, snacks, and some video games to enjoy after whatever team business was discussed. Jared's family had moved away but kept the house so he could live in it while he finished college. This made it the perfect place for them to all hang.

After pulling up to Jared's quiet suburban home, he headed down to the large basement living room, where the team usually hung out. It had multiple sofas and plenty of space for the whole team.

He was surprised to find that he was the last one on the team to arrive.

"Hey man! Didn't know you had it in you to be on time to anything" Aaron said jokingly to Trevor as he sat on the couch next to him.

"Dude what are you talking about? Jared said to be here at six th-"

Trevor was immediately cut off by Jared who jumped up and started the meeting.

"Glad to see you all could make it." Jared said, standing and facing everyone. "I wanted to go over the plan coach and I made to get us all in shape. We are very excited but it's going to take every guy on this team doing his part."

Jared held up a protein shaker bottle filled with an ivory liquid. It just looked like any other protein shake. "Coach and I consulted with some people in the chemistry department and formulated a unique protein shake mixture for each of you. It's highly concentrated and is specially formulated to last longer than a normal shake. Because of this, we probably only have to drink it once a week. So every week starting today, we will all drink it together, that way I know nobody is slacking."

"Seriously?!" Chimed Trent "you have to babysit us about it?"

"No you don't understand. It's just way easier this way." Said Jared. He seemed annoyed that Trent would say something like that, as if he should have known better.

"Anyway, we are still working on the flavors. So let me know what you guys think!" Jared handed everyone a bottle with their name on it.

Aaron gave it a couple shakes then put the bottle up to his mouth and took a big sip. The shake was… delicious. It was so sweet and rich and nothing at all like those nasty protein shakes he was used to.

"Fuck that's good." "Hey man, what's in this?" "Damn it's just like ice cream…" the other guys clearly enjoyed theirs too.

"Glad y'all like it. Anyway, that's the meeting. Once you finish your shakes, I've got plenty of beers in the fridge." Said Jared with a grin on his face. "One more thing. We noticed when we were testing it, sometimes the shakes can make you a little… bloated."

As if on cue, Trevor let out a long *buuUuuUURRP* followed by some hearty laughter from the rest of the guys.

"Look if this gets us in shape like you say it will, a couple burps won't kill me" joked Trevor.

"Oh don't worry, it'll work just fine." Said Jared.

The team came prepared with the usual snacks, beer and video games. They were broing out just like any other team meeting before long.

20 minutes later…

—---------------------------

The guys started getting really gassy. Being a soccer team that spent tons of time together, an occasional fart or burp was not new for the boys. It was always followed by laughter at the expense of the perpetrator, but this was different. The teammates were all feeling way more bloated than they had ever been. ‘Hopefully these shakes are worth it…’ their faces seemed to say.

At first they seemed to be a little embarrassed about it, but after a few minutes of laughing at each other they were letting it all out. All the boys at this point were occasionally farting and burping. Aaron noticed that the boys’ cheeks were becoming a little flush as well. They were also starting to get hard. Rock hard. Aaron noticed that everyone on the team had a boner visible through their shorts by now. Even himself.

All the guys were blushing as they started noticing the strange effects of this protein shake they had been given.

"Yeah sorry guys, it has some odd side effects" said Jared.

Aaron felt super flustered. The guys knew he was gay, but staring at all their protruding manhoods felt like a step too far. He got up to go to the bathroom, but as he did…

"Hey... Has anyone else noticed how fat Aaron's ass is?" Said Trent

"You're joking right?" Aaron said in disbelief.

"Like, seriously huge..." said Trent, as he stroked his cock through his shorts.

"...hey!" Aaron was completely shocked. This… didn’t feel like their normal banter.

"I'm serious!" Said Trent. "Has it always jiggled this much??" He got up and gave Aaron’s ass a huge smack. Even through his shorts, you could see it shake in recoil.

Come to think of it, Aaron thought, was it usually that jiggly? Was this another bizarre effect of these shakes?

The next thing he knew, Trent grabbed Aarons shorts and pulled them to the ground.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed Trent "That ass is fucking insane!"

"What the fuck is going on here!?" yelled Jared "Get your *buuuURP* hands off my teammate!"

Trent grabbed Aaron's cheeks and squeezed. His fingers sank deep into the soft flesh, which he loved. He pushed Aaron firmly between the shoulder blades, the boy bracing himself on the couch. Trent mimed fucking Aarons ass in front of the team, causing an uproar of laughter.

“Hey man, chill out!” Exclaimed Jared. “I told you how this was going to work.”

Jared grabbed Trent by the collar of his shirt and pulled him away. But then quickly dropped his own shorts and stood behind Aaron.

It all happened so fast Aaron didn’t have a chance to move. From being shocked about what Trent had done to him, to being frozen by seeing Jared act so dominant. Aaron just watched in shock as he was still bent over the couch. But he didn’t really want to move, either. He was starting to feel unusually calm.

The next thing he knew, Jared reached for some lube that was on the side table, and rubbed it on his huge rock hard cock. Wait… Aaron thought to himself, was that lube always there? Why would Jared leave it out like that?

Aaron also noticed that Jared’s balls were looking massive, as if they were a pair of oranges. 

“Get ready, fatass” moaned Jared. He gave Aaron’s jiggly ass a good slap and then grabbed him by his love handles.

Aaron felt a tingle through his body. He had never had a dick in his ass before. But he had always fantasized about it. This was a very weird night so far, but he’d be lying if he said he had never fantasized about having handsome, tall, fit, dominant but gentle Jared pound his tight (and now fat) ass.

His ass relaxed as if on queue, and Jared easily slipped in. Aaron moaned quietly at the sensation of having his first dick inside him.

He could hear Jared burping as he slid back and forth. The guys were definitely getting gassy because of their shakes.

Aaron groaned as Jared began to go deeper and harder. He was so turned on by this. He didn’t care that his whole team was there. He didn't mind the gas or the loud farts that Jared was letting out. In fact, he liked it. There was something about being taken by his team captain, called names and fucked in the ass that made him feel so incredibly horny.

Jared was thrusting really hard now and Aaron could feel Jared’s huge balls colliding with his own. It was so hot feeling Jared’s fat cock sliding in and out of his ass.

"Fuck, yeah, fuck me, I love it!" whined Aaron, leaning forward on the couch.

Jared continued to pound away, slamming Aaron's asshole relentlessly. He was so focused on Jared that he forgot the rest of the team was in the room, watching and stroking their cocks to Aaron and Jared.

"Come on, you fat bitch, take my dick! *BUuuuuUP* You're gonna be our team slut now!" yelled Jared.

Aaron nodded his head in agreement as Jared pounded away.

“Fuuuck…” was all Aaron could let out between his moans. He had never been so aroused. All he wanted at this point was to feel Jared release his huge load inside him.

"Take it, take it all… Take my load!" cried Jared, as he came inside Aaron's soft stomach. Aaron felt him gushing inside him. It felt like he was cumming forever, to the point where Aaron began to feel a slight pressure inside him from all the sloshing cum.

When Jared was done, he slowly pulled out of Aaron's ass. “Don’t let that go to waste, fatboy”  he said as he slapped Aarons’ dribbling ass. He started laughing as he looked at Aaron's now rounder and softer belly. Aaron looked as if he had instantly put on 10 pounds. "Damn, did I do that? You look even fatter now"

"It feels... tight" said Aaron, out of breath. "But it's amazing." He put a hand on his belly and felt not only Jared's cum sloshing around but also a softer layer of fat beneath his sweaty skin.

"I definitely feel less bloated now," said Jared with a grin, "you guys should try it" he said to the rest of the guys.

Aaron looked up and noticed Jared’s balls were normal sized now. Jared also looked like he… had lost weight? How was that possible? He looked like he was back to his toned, muscular body that he had before break. But Aaron was still in too much of a daze to think much more about it. He wanted to cum himself but his belly was too tight to focus.

The other boys all looked hesitant but something told Aaron that they all wanted to fuck him and unload their cum in him just like their team captain did.

Part two

[malewgtfstories]

Yes Coach!!!

A new sunny day reflected on the wet grass of Sunnydale High. The smell of the game that took Sunnydale to Nationals was looming. The pressure on Jimmy was immense. He was the QB after all. He didn't want to disappoint his parents, his classmates, but especially his coach. He praised the coach for his strong and manly demeanor. He knew the coach was a football star in his High School years some might say he was even a prodigy. Unfortunately, an accident caused him to never be able to play football again. In reality, the main reason why Jimmy didn't want to disappoint Coach White was because he secretly had a crush on the coach. He tried to deny his feelings toward Coach White, but he looked irresistible. Coach White was the definition of a proud American man. He had a protruding gut. His ginormous gut made a 4XL skintight. On top of that, he was hairy. Something that always infatuated Jimmy. He loved a man with a big belly and a big bread. Last but not least he loved his gigantic ass, which jiggled with every step he took. He loved the freedom the coach had with no care in the world. Getting to eat anything and everything whenever he wanted to. It seemed to be Jimmy's biggest wet dream. All of these contributing factors led to Jimmy always hiding his hard-on while near the coach.

On the other end, Jimy was a thin, lean, and hairless Mexican teen. He was the popular Jock attracting people from both genders. He was a people magnet. This made him frustrated as all he wanted was to have Coach White. He was confused about how everyone at school fawned over him and his looks. Everyone except for Coach White. He was sexually frustrated finding football the only way to relieve the pressure building inside of him.

As the school day was reaching its end, Jimmy knew this meant the game would soon begin. This was his one and only chance to impress his coach. All he strived for was for the validation of his crush. Little did he know this would warp his sense of reality as soon one looked down at him. The team was on the field waiting for their prized quarterback to come out of the locker room. Everyone was confused as to why he took his time. The game was about to begin. Jimmy stayed in the locker room contemplating whether he had made the right decision. Whether he was fit for playing at the National level. He is scared of losing. He was scared of disappointing. After a few minutes of complete silence, Coach White walked in. He was embarrassed to show this side to the coach. So, Jimmy braced himself for the confrontation he would have with the coach. "Why are you here sulking all alone? You're about to play for goddamn nationals grow a pair." "I'm sorry coach I'm not ready for this. I feel sick in my stomach." "Come on bud you're a senior. Why not leave this school with a bang? You've been preparing this all four years. Don't give up now." "I'm sorry coach, but I can't." "Well, then son I've done all I could do for you. If you quit our team, well be done. We surely won't make it without you." Coach White sighed in disappointment. He turned his back in frustration and began to exit the dimly lit room. Jimmy knew that this would be his only chance to say how he truly felt. Jimmy in a desperate attempt grabbed Coach White by his hand and turned him. "Listen coach I've been holding this in since freshman year, but I can't hold it in anymore. You are the sexiest person I know. When your big belly and ass jiggles give me boners. Your big beard makes us want to stuff you till you have crumbs intertwined between the jungle that covers your face. All I would want is to be in your shoes I know your dream is to be in my fit body, but I on the other hand would love to have the freedom your big belly gives you. I would love to have a big burly body that bumps into everything while you walk down a hallway. I just wish for the freedom you have." "I don't know where this is coming from. I know you are stressed about the game, but this is concerning." Little did they know that the god of fate had other ideas. He saw the desperation in Jimmy's eyes, so he decided to accomplish his wish. After all the god of fate is kind. Is he not? But all wishes have their downside. to balance the scales of fate something had to balance out the scales. The drawback was that their body switch would be permanent. Coach White felt weirded out by the love declaration of his star student, but deep down he did feel the same way. So did the god of fate. The switch began, and both Coach White and Jimmy felt a strange sensation in their stomachs. Jimmy felt piles of lard start to pile on him. He fell as his center of gravity was thrown off. Frist his

smooth six-pack was replaced by a small hairy beer belly. It grew to the point where it seemed he was fully free in a pregnancy. With that love, hands started to appear which gave him a wider look. His pecs soon followed as they lost all their muscle mass and were replaced with big utters. His arms lost their definition and were replaced with piles of lard that settled in where the muscle was. Hair started to grow all over his body except his head which seemed to diminish. His penis seemed to grow in thickness. Unfortunately, his fat seemed to cover this manhood. Just like his arms lost their previous fit look his legs were replaced with big trucks to hold up the gargantuan man he was now. Last but not least was his ass. Which seemed to be replaced with Jello. It was so big that the seams of his football unfirm were stretched to their full ability. Likewise, his shirt stretched in ways he never thought it would. His arms, gut, ass, and legs were clinging to dear life. Until "pop" his uniform tore and he was left there naked in the middle of the locker room. Likewise, Coach White went through his own transformation his body seemed to shrink and shrivel into a fit and young man. He gained definition in his body. His body burst with energy, and he felt a rush of excitement. He lost his body hair and looked like a hairless Greek god. And with the luxurious locks that replace his once bald hair surely completed the look. Coach White I mean Jimmy gave old clothes to Coach White. Coach White sat there in disbelief that his wish came true he felt uncomfortable. Unfortunately, they had no time to fret they had a game to win. People saw Jimmy play and they thought he had played like never before. It was as if he had gained years of experience. After the whole ordeal, Sunnydale came out as the victors and went to nationals. Everyone praised Jimmy for his hard work. Coach White felt jealous as he took his win, but there was nothing to do. He pulled him away and told him. "We need to find a way to get to our original bodies." "I'm sorry coach I don't know what you're talking about. I'm Jimmy and your Coach White." Coach White sat in silence as all of Coach White's memories came flooding in. Soon nothing remained that was part of Jimmy in Coach White. All he could think about how hungry he was. He was thinking about how many pizzas to stuff in his mouth. This was who they were now. No possible way to change back, and it is not like they would do anyway. The one who took the final laugh was the god of fate. Never mess with fate.

[fillthattank]

Heavyweight

A huge thanks to @plumpboybellies for requesting this story, it was very fun to write! Also, a shout out to a few friends for giving me a few ideas (you'll recognize yourselves!). This story wouldn't exist without you!

***

"I want you to move up a weight class," Colton's coach said. "I know you've been playing at this weight for a while, but you have a big frame. You'll be even better with more meat on you."

"How big do you want me?" Colton asked. 

Colton was a wrestler. 6'2'', 190 lbs, all of it muscle. His singlet hugged his lean body, highlighting every bit of definition. You could even guess the outline of his abs through the fabric.

"As big as you can? They removed the maximum weight limit a few years ago," Coach said. "Just bulk up as much as possible in the off season, we'll see how it works out after."

Colton nodded. This sounded fun.

"You'll probably have to kiss that eight-pack goodbye, but the extra muscle and all the heavyweight matches you'll be winning should more than make up for it," Coach laughed, slapping Colton's flat stomach.

Like any self respecting jock, Colton had a big appetite, but sticking to his wrestling weight meant he had to keep it under control. Every so often, Colton would overeat, whether it was wanting to impress his friends, having too much fun at a party, or just his stomach having the better of him, and he'd have to go on a brutal diet to cut back down.

This was, starting now, a thing of the past. After his meeting with Coach, Colton went to the nearest fast-food joint, and ordered 3 massive burgers from the get go. He knew he had the capacity, and now he could binge guilt-free.

Colton came back for a 4th. And a fifth. By then, his belly was bloated and stretching his shirt, making a gentle curve from under his pecs. That belly felt good, firm and heavy, a symbol of his newfound freedom.

"You sure about this?" Asked the vendor, as he ordered his 6th burger. Jocks overloading their bellies was a common occurrence, so some concern was natural.

"One hundred percent," he said, giving his bloated belly a good rub. It was starting to feel tight, but Colton knew there was room for at least one more.

Back at his flat, Colton took off his shirt, and checked out his gut. The six burgers had bloated him so much, it stuck out by a good 6 inches from under his pecs. His abs were still visible, making the belly look like a turtleshell.

This would be the last time Colton saw his abs, as he then opened his fridge, and continued his rampage. Chugging milk from the jug, eating an entire tub of grated carrots with the better part of a jar of mayo. Colton wasn't even sure of what some things were, he just ate them, and his belly stuck out even more. Not that he cared. He just wanted as much food as possible inside him.

Eventually, Colton got so bloated he had to lie down. His belly was a perfect ball now, his abs completely smoothed out by the tremendous volumes inside him. As if he'd been blown up like a balloon, except rather than air, it was solid, heavy food. His huge tank hurt, a bit, but it was a good pain. The kind you got after intense exercise, one that comes with a deep feeling of satisfaction. 

Colton stayed on his bed for a while, feeling up his tank of a belly, enjoying the fullness. He could have stayed like that all evening, but was this really his limit? He no longer had to keep his appetite under control, he could experiment a bit, right?

Still flat on his back, the bloated jock grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and ordered a pizza. His guilty-pleasure pizza, large and with all his favorite toppings, the one he always ordered when he felt down, or wanted to treat himself.

Waiting for the pizza to come was a haze. Digestion was starting to heat up his belly, to make him feel sleepy. When the bell rang, getting up was harder than expected. His gut was so heavy, his abs were so stretched, his quads working so hard to bear his weight. His stomach like a wrecking ball inside him. Maybe this was too much ?

All doubt vanished when he opened the door and smelled his favorite pizza. Colton felt the delivery guy's gaze on his muscular body and massive belly, giving him an extra confidence boost. He was a jock, and he had the muscle and the gut to eat meals smaller guys could only dream of.

Colton brought the pizza back to his bed, and ate it flat on his back, watching his musclegut rise a little bit with each slice. His stomach had probably reached capacity a while back, the jock now eating by sheer force of will. Pizza being dragged into his monster stomach by muscle memory. The pressure inside his stomach, the weight of all that food, the stretch on his abs, the heat of digestion, it was all one big dream-like haze. It wasn't a new feeling, but the stretching felt like heaven. The jock passed out not long after the last slice, using what strength was left in his tired body to give his bloated belly one final rub. This offseason was going to be fun

*

Colton woke up still bloated the next morning. He'd eaten so much even his rocket-speed metabolism hadn't been able to digest it all in one night. Weirdest of all, he was hungry. His belly didn't so much feel half full as it felt half empty.

Colton liked this. He made himself the biggest breakfast ever, and ate it all.

This became an everyday occurrence. Colton's belly was constantly bloated, and Colton was constantly eating. Each time his bloat went down a bit, he'd top it back up. And when his belly looked close to the limit, he'd force more food in the tank. He figured out a neat trick, if he rubbed the side of his belly with one finger after it got full, his stomach would be able to stretch a little more, allowing him to eat more.

Colton had no idea how fat he was or wasn't getting, or even what his weight was. He had to be constantly lugging a few dozens of pounds inside his gut, and it was so packed at all times he couldn't tell how much of it was muscle, fat, or just plain bloat.

All Colton knew is that he was indeed getting bigger, and was getting stronger. His arms were bigger, his pecs, his back, his legs, every muscle, actually, though with a big asterisk over his abs. Sure, people stared at him when he turned up at the gym looking pregnant, but their judgement turned to admiration when they saw how much he was lifting, or how much he could put away in just one meal.

*

The day before wrestling resumed, Colton checked himself out in the mirror. He looked so massive, so beefy, his big round gut looking great on his muscular frame. Colton picked up his singlet, unworn since the end of last season, looking forward to seeing what he'd be looking like for the next few months.

Putting it over his legs proved tough. Even his calves were tight, nevermind his massive quads. Colton painfully got it over his lower body, but when it reached his waist, the singlet blocked. Colton's enormous belly stuck out by about a foot over the girdle, so far out he didn't think he could pull the rest of it up without risking tearing the fabric.

Colton tried to suck in his belly. Tried, and failed. He could barely get it to stick out by a few inches less, and trying to suck it in any further made him feel he was about to throw up.

He stared at his reflection, his singlet hanging around his waist, his belly looking way too big. Maybe he'd taken the eating a bit too far? 

Colton decided to fast for the rest of the day. He needed his bloat to go down to fit in his singlet, and anyway, it would be useful to know his actual weight. Never mind that he probably had enough food still in his system to hibernate a whole winter.

The rest of the evening was miserable. Somehow, the many pounds of food inside Colton's enormous belly weren't enough. He now needed to be permanently stuffed. The overbulked jock went out on a run, the first in a while, hoping it would speed up his metabolism and help his belly deflate faster, but it just made him hungrier. And after months of non-stop overeating, falling asleep on a stomach that wasn't stuffed to the limit proved tough.

Out of habit, Colton took a pack of pancakes to eat as he cooked a monster omelette, before remembering. He miserably put the food back in the cupboards, his huge stomach begging him not to.

Getting dressed for his first day back wrestling, Colton found almost everything in his wardrobe was still tight around his belly, even empty. The jock had always liked wearing clothes that highlighted his physique, and had carried the bloated gut as a point of pride all the off-season, but now he felt almost embarrassed. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe the hunger was just putting him on edge. He settled on a baggy tank top, that was loose everywhere, but that made up by showing off his meaty arms.

Colton was driving to his wrestling practice when he snapped. He passed the same burger place he'd had his first cheat meal at. Remembered stuffing himself, how good it had tasted, how nice his belly had felt. And decided he was so hungry it was probably unsafe to drive.

"You sure about this?" The vendor said, as he ordered one burger. "Don't even want a second, big guy?"

Colton's orders had been progressively getting bigger over his offseason, so this was a sudden change. Still, a second wouldn't hurt?

Colton started eating, and this was the best a cheap burger had ever tasted. He could feel the life force coming back to him as he gorged, as the food flowed into his huge hungry belly.  He ordered a 3rd burger, then a 4th, and kept eating more and more. He needed the food. It was a matter of life or death.

The jock returned to his car with his 8 burgers comfortably packed in his big round belly. He'd worry about his singlet when he got there. His belly felt so good. And he wasn't going to perform well if he was too hungry, right?

Stepping into the locker room, Colton noticed he was way bigger than the other wrestlers. Even bigger than he expected. Guys he used to think of as massive, he now outbulked. Some had trimmed down, others had beefed up, but no one had gained as much as Colton, and he wasn't the only one to notice.

"Wow Colt', look at those guns!" said a jock.

"Bro the other heavyweights won't stand a chance," said another, feeling up his biceps and triceps. Because of his loose tank top, his arms stood out the most. And yeah, they had grown a lot bigger.

Colton was more than happy to have all the guys playing withis his big arms. His bulk had been a success, after all. The tune changed, however, when Colton took off his shirt, revealing his massive belly.

"Bro, you got pregnant or what?" 

"Damn dude, I know coach said bulk up but damn. It looks like you've done nothing but eat everyday until that belly is past its limit! That's some serious extra heft bro."

Other wrestlers stopped what they were doing, and came up to see Colton's new belly for themselves.

"I ate a lot at lunch time," Colton said, trying to defend himself.

"Yeah, and at breakfast, and at dinner, and a lot of snacking too, everyday. We can tell," one wrestler replied. Colton couldn't think of a come-back, the guy was right.

"Guys just how much do you think we can fit in here?" said one guy, passing a hand over Colton's big belly. "A gallon? Two gallons? Maybe even three gallons? It's really huge!"

The whole wrestling team was around him, playing with his belly, when Coach stepped into the locker rooms.

"You guys never seen a heavyweight wrestler, or what?" 

The other jocks stepped back. Coach walked up to Colton, eyeing up his belly. Gave it a few slaps.

"They've got a point, though. This is one big belly," Coach said, giving it a few more pats. "Go get changed, son."

Colton blushed and acquiesced. As the other jocks walked out, Colton pulled his singlet out of his bag. He hadn't eaten that much, only eight burgers, and he'd fasted before, so he was probably going to fit, right?

As last night, it was tight around his legs, the fabric straining over his bulked quads. Getting it over his meaty butt was even harder. It hadn't grown as much as his belly, but he couldn't suck it in, meaning he had to force hard.

Then came the belly. Colton sucked it in as hard as he could, pulled the singlet up, and nothing happened. He just felt really tight around the places he'd already put it on.

Colton relaxed, took a few breaths. Looked at his huge round belly on his beefy frame. The extremely tight singlet around his quads. He checked out his backside in a mirror, it looked vacuum sealed. Still, if he could get it over his butt, he could get it over his belly, right?

The jock breathed out all the air in his lungs. Sucked his gut in so hard he almost felt one of the burgers come back up. The belly still stuck out by a few inches, but Colton could now slowly inch the singlet up over his paunch. By the time he'd gotten his arms through the holes, he'd been holding his breath for so long he was about to pass out.

Colton's singlet was back on, clinging tightly to every bit of his bulked body. So tight, it was as if it had been spray painted on him. His beefy pecs, his quads, and of course his big round belly, prominent even as he sucked it in. A big change from last season. 

Pleased with himself, Colton relaxed, breathing normally once again.

crrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaack

Colton heard fabric tearing. He looked down, and saw his singlet completely torn, his bare belly sticking far out.

"Uh, Coach!" he called out, "I have a problem."

[thegainingdesk]

Two Night Stand

Just as Howard had guessed, the young man was loitering in the changing rooms when he entered. He'd seen the slim man watching him his entire set, changing from treadmill to elliptical to standing bike to keep a clear eyeline to Howard at all times.

Howard wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd found that he attracted more than a fair few men as he'd put on weight these past few years, and the gym was the perfect place to show off his developing figure. He couldn't exactly boast a powerlifter build, per se, but he had enough muscle underneath all the fat that he could show off how much weight he could lift, and enough to keep most of his fat in a firm, round gut at his center with comparatively less flab elsewhere on his body. Coupled with a thick dark beard and a thick pelt of coarse body hair, he often had twinks lining up for the opportunity to call him ‘daddy’; not something he was thrilled about at the grand age of thirty-four, but also not something he was in a rush to correct anyone wanting to fuck him over.

Howard made a show of getting changed and faced out into the changing rooms towards the young man, giving him a clear view of the spectacle. He lifted his shirt up slowly, allowing the hem to drag itself up over the curve of his gut, revealing the dark swirls of hair covering the mound of fat and his deep belly button. Once the shirt slid off his gut and Howard pulled it over his head, he looked over to see the man looking directly at him. He winked and the man hurriedly looked away; Howard made sure to maintain eye-contact, making sure to catch him each time he gave another quick glance. Howard reached down and hefted his gut a few times before reaching down further and giving his package a squeeze; that caught the man's attention alright, and this time he held his gaze, staring intently at Howard's gut.

“Not getting changed yourself then?” Howard called across the changing room.

The young man swallowed hard, before lifting up his shirt to reveal a tight, thin torso, with the faint outline of a six pack and a fine dusting of hair. He was about Howard's height, just slightly shorter than average, but more wiry than Howard had ever been, with prominent ribs and collar bones, and a prominent Adam's apple. Despite his short height, he was so thin he almost looked lanky. He was handsome, Howard thought; dark blond hair, a crooked smile and a nose that looked like it had been broken and not set properly at some point. “Just catching my breath,” the man replied.

Howard smirked and bent to pull down his shorts. He tried to make it sexy, but honestly, these days it was a struggle just to bend down around his gut and his shorts caught on his thick thighs, making him shimmy them down unceremoniously. By the time he stood back up, panting softly, the young man’s long erection was tenting his own shorts obviously.

Howard reached down and adjusted his balls in his boxers, partly for show, partly genuinely for comfort. “Fancy joining me in the showers?” he said casually. “I’m finding I've been getting really sweaty recently.” He felt himself growing hard. He knew he'd lost a few inches to his expanding fat pad, and he'd not been able to see his own cock under his gut for years, but he knew he still boasted an impressive manhood.

“I uhh… okay.” The man's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He coughed and tried again, deeper this time. “Yes, I mean. I'd like that.”

“I'm Howard,” Howard introduced himself as he walked past the man and around the corner to the showers.

“Guy,” the man answered. Howard could hear him follow behind him obediently.

“Nice to meet you Guy,” Howard said, turning on one of the shower heads and pulling his pants off. He handed them to Guy, who held them, dumbstruck for a moment, before lifting them up to his face and sniffing deeply. “You like this gut, Guy?”

Guy nodded, not taking Howard's boxers away from his face. His eyes were trained downwards; Howard knew that from this angle, his gut covered his crotch almost entirely, so he must be staring at his fat.

Howard stepped back into the stream of water, and rivulets began to flow over his tits, round his gut, down his rounded thighs and calves. “Would you like to touch this gut, Guy?”

Guy hurried to throw down Howard's boxers and pull his own shorts and underwear down; he was so hard and the motion so fast that his dick slapped up and hit his abs with a soft thwack. He stepped forward and ran his hands across Howard's love handles, squeezing them and using his fingers to dapple the soft skin and the fat underneath. He slipped his fingers beneath, into the crease above Howard's hips, and leant down to place one of Howard's nipples in his mouth, sucking for a few moments.

He pulled away. “You're so…” he began. He leant back in, kissing Howard's neck, his shoulders, his chin. Each kiss was paired with a small poke from Guy's fingers; Howard realised he was searching for pockets of fat around his body.

“Big?” Howard whispered. “Heavy? Wide? Manly?”

“Fat,” Guy finished. “You're so fat.”

Howard chuckled. “And you like that, do you? You like how fat I am?” Guy nodded. “Why don't you show me how much you like it then?” Howard nodded past his gut, down towards his crotch. Guy looked around nervously. “Now you're nervous?” Howard asked. “Don’t worry, most people rush straight off after the gym at this time. Besides, everyone knows this is the gay hookup gym, no-one would bat an eyelash.”

Guy swallowed hard and Howard licked his lips at the sight of his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his wiry neck. He looked around once more, nodded nervously, and sunk to his knees. Howard grew even harder as he felt Guy push his fat pad back to reveal more of his length, something he’d only realised men had started doing since he’d hit twenty stone or so. He shuddered slightly as he felt Guy’s warm mouth envelop his hardness for a few seconds, before pulling back and pushing Howard’s soft underbelly away and readjusting his position, trying to find a way to suck Howard off around all of the fat in the way.

Howard leant his head back and moaned. While Guy seemed to be taken by surprise with the practicalities of sucking off a fat man, he clearly had a few tricks up his sleeve, and enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Within a few minutes he was near climax and began to thrust himself into Guy’s mouth, who made some satisfying grunts of discomfort in response.

Just as Howard began to cum, pumping his load down Guy’s pretty throat, someone walked into the shower and the younger man jumped back so that the rest of Howard's cum sprayed across his chest and dribbled down his chin. Guy flushed red and turned away towards the wall, frantically wiping away the splatters of semen.

“Don't mind me,” Charlton, one of the gym's regulars, said as he stepped under the shower head on the other side of Howard. “I'd join you, but my husband says I've got to stop fucking people at the gym.” He leant around Howard's mass to peer at Guy’s arse. “How do you get all the cute ones Howie?”

Howard moved over to Guy and cupped his arse, bending down to his knees himself. “How about it?” he asked. “Fancy an audience?”

Guy gave a small shake of his head and continued to scrub at himself. Howard stood back up, bracing against his knees and straining as he did so. He stepped away from Guy and began to wash himself, taking the signal that the younger man had lost interest, for now.

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Guy said quietly after a while. Howard looked over and grinned as Charlton laughed.

“Just like me to ruin the fun!” Charlton said. He waved his dick over at the two of them. “Howie, you've got my number, let me know if you'd like a third later.”

Howard grabbed Guy’s wrist and led him out the shower. He nudged the small pile of their wet shorts and underwear with his toe. “Grab those,” he told Guy. “We can go to my flat, it's not far.”

Guy struggled to keep his hands off Howard on the short drive and in the lift up to Howard's floor. As he unlocked the door, Guy was already pulling Howard’s t-shirt up and undoing his belt for him, kissing his neck as he did so. Howard pulled him through to the bedroom and pushed him towards the bed, and Guy dutifully began stripping.

Howard kicked his trousers off and pulled a condom out of the drawer by his bedside table. “You're going to have to put it on me,” he told Guy. “Awkward with this thing in the way.” He thumped his gut a few times to illustrate his point. “Unless you want to top?”

Guys tongue practically fell out of his mouth at this, and he hurriedly pulled the condom out of the packet. “No, I'm happy to, you know, or whatever.” He sunk down to his knees and stared up at Howard over the crest of his gut. “It's so hot that you can't put this on yourself.”

“I mean I can,” Howard grumbled. “It's just easier to get someone else to do it.” He felt Guy roll the condom over his shaft and smooth out some air bubbles.

“How do you want me?” Guy asked. He turned towards Howard and stood waiting, his hard-on pulsing slightly.

Howard nodded towards the bed. “On the edge. However’s most comfortable for you.”

Guy climbed onto the bed, stretching his thighs wide to present his hole to Howard. Howard squirted some lube onto his fingers and ran them over Guy’s crack, before slipping a couple of fingers in and massaging for a moment or two. Guy arched his back and sighed.

Howard lined himself up with Guy as best he could, and pushed himself forward. His cock missed the mark and instead bounced painfully off of one of his cheeks. Howard winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Difficult to aim with this thing in the way.” He patted his gut.

“God that's hot,” Guy sighed.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Howard grumbled to himself. Maybe he did need to lose a little weight.

“We could try a different position?” Guy suggested. “Cowboy style, maybe, or it might help if we both lie on our sides?”

“No!” Howard snapped. “No, I can, I can do it,” he said, more calmly. He'd be damned if he’d gotten too fat to top someone properly. He fished under his gut and grabbed his equipment, using his hands to guide himself in. He found his mark and slid in slowly, as Guy moaned softly and pushed back against Howard's crotch.

The two men began to rock in sync, building up a rhythm. Howard's gut slapped into Guy's back, the claps ringing like a metronome. The two began to pick up pace, as Guy arched his back and Howard tried to reach around to grab the smaller man's cock; with his gut in the way, he just couldn't reach. Instead, he gripped Guy’s slender shoulders and put his effort into pumping. He could feel the fat on his arse, his tits, his gut shaking and vibrating and his heart fluttered in his chest as he breathed heavily. He pumped harder and gripped his own fat with one hand, inserting one finger deep into his own bellybutton. He thought about how fat he'd gotten, how much fatter he was sure to get, he thought about the man below him and how much smaller he was than him. His breath caught as he came, and he felt the condom fill up around his pole. Shaking, he rolled off of Guy and onto the bed.

“Did you..?” Howard asked.

Guy shook his head. “It's fine,” he said, panting and smiling. He placed a hand on Howard's gut and shook it. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“What does it feel like?” Guy asked afterwards, with his angular torso pressed into Howard’s broad, soft back and one arm draped across him, a hand slowly caressing his gut.

Howard laughed. “Topping? You never done it before?”

Howard felt Guy shake his head from behind. “No, I've- I mean not very often, but I have, you know- No, I mean, you know,” his hand gripped Howard's gut and shook it a little. “What does this feel like? Being fat?”

Howard laughed again. “You like that, do you?” He slapped his gut a few times, enjoying the feeling of his body rippling. “It's a bloody nuisance, I'll tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” Guy prompted. “How?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, you saw earlier, it's getting difficult to fuck guys in some positions without it getting in the way, difficult to put on condoms easily. You even struggled a bit when you were giving me a blowjob, right?” Guy nodded enthusiastically. “It's even getting difficult to piss standing up.” Howard could feel Guy’s cock hardening against his back.

“Really? Because you can't reach it you mean?” Excitement mounted in Guy’s voice.

“Reaching it's easy enough, it's being able to see that's an issue. Can't aim,” Howard explained.

“What else?” Guy urged Howard on.

“Fuck me, loads. Having to fight against my own body to tie my shoes, getting winded climbing the stairs, clothes not fitting right, not being able to join my mates when they play footy, getting the piss taken out of me by everyone who thinks they're a bloody comedian,” Howard said. By this point, Guy was grinding his hard dick against Howard's leg.

“But you love it?” Guy asked, his voice catching.

“Fuck yes,” Howard replied. “There's something about being big, you know?” Guy gave a small whimper in reply. “In basically any situation, at work, with mates, at the gym, I'm always the biggest one there. Sure, a lot of it's fat, but men always respect the big guy, you know? Like it's primal.”

“How much do you weigh?” Guy asked. He moved to straddle Howard, his hand stroking his cock.

“A little over three hundred pounds,” Howard lied. He was close, but had never actually broken the big three-oh-oh. He'd met enough of these chaser types to know that 300 was the magical number though, and was happy to fudge the numbers to make a twink’s fantasy come true.

“Christ,” Guy gasped. “You're over double my weight.” Within thirty seconds, he tensed up and yelled out as thick hot cum sprayed over Howard's gut, pooling in his belly button and dribbling down its curve onto the sheets.

Guy fell down onto Howard and kissed him, hard jawline bumping into soft. “You're incredible,” he panted. “I could order some pizzas maybe?”

A couple of hours later, three boxes sat on Howard's coffee table, while Howard stretched out on his sofa with one hand down his boxers and one hand cradling his stretched gut. He'd done his best to show off for Guy, and had eaten almost two whole pizzas in quick succession. “Go on,” he told Guy. “Eat up.”

Guy groaned, clutching his flat stomach. He'd just finished a whole pizza by himself - clearly not a feat he was used to. “They're your slices,” he said feebly, nudging the two final slices of Howard's second pizza back to the larger man.

“I want you to have them,” Howard said, pushing them back. “And I think you want to have them too.” Guy shook his head. “You're telling me,” Howard grabbed Guy’s hand and placed it on his gut. “That you don't want one of these of your own?” Guy moaned a little. “That you just want to fuck fat guys? No. You want this for yourself. Eat.”

Guy closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, and sat forward, grabbing both slices and stacking them together before taking a large bite out of both. “That's it,” Howard whispered. “Good boy. Eat them quick, before your body has a chance to register. Good boy, there we go.”

It took fifteen minutes, and by the end Guy was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing his stomach and suppressing sickly hiccups, but eventually the slices disappeared. He sat quietly, moaning and cradling the invisible curve of his stomach. Once it became clear that he wasn't in a position for conversation, Howard put the TV on and left him to it.

“I should go,” Guy said quietly after two episodes of Doctor Who. He stood and began to pull his t-shirt back on.

“You don't have to,” Howard said, making no move to stop him. “You could stay the night, if you wanted.”

“No, it's late,” Guy said. “I was supposed to meet up with some friends.” He winced as he buttoned his jeans. “Maybe we could do this again sometime though?”

Howard sighed. He never really did ‘again’. “Maybe,” he said. “I uh, I'm only in Portsmouth for a few months for a work thing, I probably won't be uhh…”

“No, it's fine, I get it,” Guy said with a thin smile. “It's fine if this is just a one-time thing. Thanks for umm,” he looked over Howard's body, still laid out across the sofa, his gut overlapping his too-tight pants. “You've helped me figure some stuff out. Thank you.”

Howard heaved himself to his feet and stuck his hand out. “Always happy to figure some stuff out with someone,” he said. Guy took Howard's offered hand and shook it. “All the best Guy.”

“You too.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the sofa. 

-

Howard groaned as he lowered himself into the seat, grateful for the easing of the pressure on his feet. He closed his eyes and just sat for a moment, breathing just a little too heavily for his liking. Ever since he'd crossed the 300 pound mark almost a decade ago, he'd been eagerly eyeing up 350, but he was starting to worry that it might have been just a little too much weight for him. He was just so big these days, and at more than a little ways past forty, he was starting to think that the big leagues, weight-wise, were a young man's game.

He opened his eyes slowly and reached towards the menu. No need to go hungry, anyway, whether or not he wanted to get much bigger, especially with his company footing the bill. A couple of starters, he thought, a big main, maybe one of those steaks, and then some big heavy dessert. That should just about hit the spot. He squeezed his overhang just a touch and sighed. Sitting down, with the dull ache in his feet fading away and his breathing going back to its usual light wheeze, rather than a heavy pant, he started to forget his earlier apprehension, just a few moments before. Being big felt fucking great, didn't it? What difference would another ten or fifteen pounds make, really?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across his menu, and he looked up, expecting to see the waiter. What he saw instead was a wall of flesh - a man stood in front of him, outweighing Howard by, god, who knew how much? At least a hundred pounds, maybe even one-fifty. The man's soft gut hung down, almost touching the table, and his arms sat awkwardly at his sides, visibly pushed away from the man's huge, soft torso by gut and tit and roll. He looked like something out of one of Howard's fantasies, a scale he'd fervently imagined himself at, but never really aspired to.

"Howard?" the man asked. "It is Howard isn't it?"

Howard was stumped. He'd remember this man if they'd met, surely? Fantasised about him for weeks afterwards presumably, wistfully thinking back to that human barge he'd met in some business meeting or other?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a while. "I'm really trying to remember…"

"It's Guy," the man - Guy - said. "We met about eleven or twelve years ago." When Howard's face didn't lose its confused stupor he added - "In Portsmouth? I, uhh, look a little different I suppose." He punctuated this last bit by laying his hand on top of his gut.

Howard thought back, he'd not spent long in Portsmouth after all, six months maybe. Had he met a Guy? He looked up at the round face in front of him, subtracted ten years, a couple of chins, tried to imagine cheek bones beneath those jowls, noticed the bent nose that looked like it had been set badly, years before…

"Jesus fuck, Guy, " Howard said softly, his eyes widening. "Twink Guy?" he asked, his voice high. This whale in front of him couldn't have ever been that small fry, could he?

Guy laughed. "Twink Guy, I like that!" he said. "Can't say there's been much call for a nickname like that for a while now though." He smiled at Howard. "Are you waiting for someone? Maybe I could join you?"

Howard made a blustering noise that could be interpreted as a positive, and gestured at the seat opposite him. Guy pulled the chair back, far away from the table edge, and slowly, carefully, deliberately lowered himself down into it. Howard marveled at the practiced routine of it all - how far back the chair needed to go, the care with which the sturdy oak chair needed handling, the way that every movement was slow and deliberate and carefully considered to avoid bumping into anything, everything, around him. Most of all he marveled at how Guy barely seemed to register that any of this was out of the ordinary.

"God, it's good to get off your feet, isn't it," Guy sighed.

Howard studied Guy, trying to remember the rail thin twenty-something year old underneath the blubber. His face was huge, round cheeks bulging over sagging jowls around squinting eyes. His body was enormously broad - tits sloped down a mountainous gut down into his elbows. Even his fingers were fat - stubby little sausages attached to pillow palms.

Guy reached over his belly and picked up the menu, resting it on the shelf of his gut. “Shall we just get one of each of the starters and sides and share?” he asked after a while.

Howard’s eyebrows rose. He looked back at the menu - there was at least ten starters and the same amount of sides. How much was this man planning on eating?

“I'll foot the bill, don't worry” Guy said, misinterpreting Howard's reaction. “The least I can do.” He slapped the top of his gut, setting it swaying. “After all, I've got you to thank for this.”

Howard’s mouth closed and opened a few times. “Sorry, I'm not sure I… You've got me to thank?”

“Oh absolutely!” Guy said, nodding. His double chin shook with the motion.

At that point the waiter arrived, interrupting Guy. They both ordered a pint of ale, Guy ordered all the starters and sides, as he'd said, and Howard ordered the steak.

“God, that sounds good actually. Two of those. Medium-rare, yeah. And we’ll want the dessert menu after. Perfect, yeah, thanks.” Guy turned back to Howard. “Where were we? Yes! Thanking you, that was it.” He leant back, and Howard could see his shirt pulling out of his waistband to reveal a slab of pale flesh hanging out even while sitting. “After we, you know, after that night anyway, I just sort of knew I guess.”

“Knew what?” Howard asked.

“That I wanted to be fat!” Guy said loudly. Howard sank down in his seat as people at other tables looked over. “I mean, I knew before then, I guess, but it was all, I don't know, wanking over YouTube videos and those stupid stories about people getting paid to fatten themselves up or something. I never, god, I never imagined I could really do something like that.”

Their drinks arrived and the two were quiet for a while as they took their first large gulps. “And then you met me,” Howard offered.

“And then I met you!” Guy repeated. “God, the number of fat guys I must have stared at before you.” He laughed. “I thought I was being so subtle, but clearly you noticed pretty quick.”

Howard laughed as well. “Yeah, subtle didn't really come to mind,” he said. “I thought you were cruising, honestly. You were actually doing that to any fat guy you saw? Just, down the street?”

“Christ yes,” Guy laughed. “They must have all thought I was a creep.”

At that point, the first of the starters arrived. Guy fell quiet as he focussed on eating. Howard could see how he's gotten so large - eating was clearly serious business to this man. Each bite was relished, with time taken to enjoy the flavours, but no time was wasted - as soon as one bite was swallowed, more food would immediately be brought to his lips.

After the starters and while they waited for their mains, Guy spoke. “You know, I always imagined how much weight you were putting on,” he told Howard. “And I always sort of, I don't know, compared myself to the image of you I had in my head. Especially once I reached three hundred pounds, and I was so much softer than I remember you being, and then when I hit three-hundred and fifty, four hundred, and I thought, god, when did he hit these weights? How much bigger did he get? And I started to imagine, you know, we'd meet at some point and I'd have managed to get, I don't know, ten, twenty pounds bigger. And it'd be, god this is so stupid saying it out loud, like you'd passed the torch on or something. Honestly, it's a big reason I've been pushing myself to still get bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” Howard said, rubbing his gut. He'd done his best to eat half of the food on the table, and while not full, he could feel himself slowing down; in comparison, Guy seemed to be impatiently waiting for more food. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so small.

“God, no!” Guy said. “I don’t mean, no, I'm not disappointed or anything. I do know, you know, that I've kind of taken this whole gaining thing further than most people are into. I never really, honestly I mean, thought I'd meet you again or whatever. It was always just something knocking around in the back of my head. I didn't even really know that you were a gainer, you might have lost it all for all I- fuck, sorry, I don't even- are you even a gainer? I just assumed.”

Howard waved his hand. “Don't worry, yeah, I… well. I mean, fifty pounds in ten years, it's hardly the kind of weight you've been putting on. But yeah, I'm on all the sites and stuff.”

“Hey, anyone else would be pulling their hair out over fifty pounds,” Guy said. “Us guys just have a skewed perspective about this stuff.”

Howard shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making progress and sometimes I really look at myself and see just how big I am.”

“How big are you, if you don't mind me asking?” Guy asked.

“Three-sixty-something these days,” Howard said. “Probably a little more - lots of business trips. And you?”

“Just hit five hundred a couple of weeks ago,” Guy replied proudly. “Hit a bit of a plateau since, but it's great finally getting there, you know?”

Howard gave a low whistle. “That's a big boy number right there.” Guy laughed. “You're going for those kinds of weights then? Five-hundred plus?”

Guy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “It's all I think about,” he said. “The more weight I put on, the more I want to put on. It's like, okay, when we first met that time, right? I got all excited and I decided I could put on, I don't know, twenty pounds, see how that felt. And it was nothing. So I thought, okay, fifty pounds, and then I'd put on fifty pounds and I was starting to feel chubby but…”

“It wasn't as big as you'd thought it would be?” Howard asked.

“God, not nearly anything like it,” Guy agreed. “Like, fifty pounds you know? That's a lot of weight! And it just didn't look like it. So I went up to two-hundred and fifty, and that wasn't enough, then three hundred, and I thought, surely, surely three hundred’s where you start to feel big. And that's how big you were! I fucked other big guys, don't get me wrong, but you were the first - I built you up into a bit of myth in my head I think.”

“I'm flattered,” Howard said.

“Well, I got to three-hundred pounds, as big as Howard, and it still wasn't big enough,” Guy continued. “So I added another fifty, and that wasn't enough, and another, and four-hundred still didn't feel big enough.” He sighed. “You never feel like that?”

Howard spread his hands on the table and studied them for a while. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not often. I do feel big, most of the time. Big enough. But every so often I catch a glimpse of myself and I just think… is this really twenty-five stone? Surely I should be huge by now? When I was younger I couldn't imagine how big that must be and now…”

“Now it's just the size you are,” Guy finished. “It's normal.”

Howard nodded as their mains got brought over. Howard tried to hide his nervousness at the size of the portion; chips were piled high next to a steak as big as his face and over an inch thick. Guy licked his lips and started eating immediately, stopping only when the sides got brought over.

It took nearly two hours for Howard to get through his steak, sides and the selection of desserts Guy had ordered. Guy watched him, having finished long before, occasionally offering words of encouragement, but generally just filling Howard in on his life; the company he'd started, the relationships with increasingly larger men who were just never big enough, the years and years of gluttony and sloth that had built him into the man Howard saw before him.

Howard leant back and drummed his fingers on his gut. It has been a while since he'd felt it so taut, and the sensation left him rock hard. He opened one eye and watched Guy for a while.

“I've got a room upstairs,” Howard said after a while. “If you wanted to…?”

Guy smiled. “I thought you said you were married now.”

“We’re open,” Howard reassured him. “I spend a lot of time away with work and we both know that we’ll be better off if we get to relieve some tension every so often.”

“Well then,” Guy said with raised eyebrows. “Shall we?”

They both stood, Howard feeling particularly spritely for the first time in a while; he found himself waiting for Guy to haul himself to his feet. The two made their way slowly to the elevator, which sunk noticeably as the two men entered.

As the doors closed, Guy reached over and put a hand on Howard's love handle and squeezed. “Just like I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Hopefully a little bigger?” Howard said.

“Don't worry,” Guy said. “I can see all the progress you've made. But it's that same solid ball gut I've been having wet dreams about for the past decade.” He slapped it a few times, resulting in a dull thump. He slid a finger through a gap between the buttons in Howard’s shirt and stroked the furry skin around his belly button.

The elevator door opened, and the two made their way to Howard's hotel room. Howard let them in and Guy made his slow way over to the bed and gingerly sat down. Howard stood in front of him and let his gut bump into Guy's face, who reached up and began to unbutton Howard's shirt for him.

“Oh yes,” Guy said. “I've missed this a lot.” He ran his fingers through the hair on Howard's gut and up onto his soft chest as Howard pulled off his jacket and shirt and threw them to the side. Guy leant forward and nuzzled his nose into Howard's belly button, before replacing it with his tongue as he worked his fingers under Howard's overhang to undo his belt and pull his trousers down.

Guy lifted Howard's gut slightly, and deftly pushed the fat back slightly to reveal more of his hardening cock. “This is bigger than I remember,” he said.

“My cock?” Howard asked. “Really?”

Guy laughed. “Sorry, no. I meant your fat pad.”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Suppose that would be a bit too much to ask for.”

“I personally have come to enjoy the effects of fat on a man's cock,” Guy said.

“Not one I'm particularly thrilled with myself,” Howard grumbled.

“Well maybe I can make it up to you,” Guy said, before slipping his mouth over Howard's dick.

Howard's breath caught. The key to giving a good blowjob, Howard had learnt over the years, is to really, truly, genuinely want that dick in your mouth, and Guy was clearly hungry for it. No opportunity was missed to taste or lick or suck on any and all exposed skin. His balls, his shaft, his head, his taint, all of it was lovingly cared for in turn. It wasn't long before Howard was shooting down Guy's throat.

Guy sat back and smiled as he swallowed. Howard thought back to how prominent his Adam’s apple used to be - it was now barely visible in his lardy neck.

Howard sank down to his knees, and lifted Guy’s gut to gain access to his belt buckle. As he undid his trousers, Guy pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing soft, undulating flesh. Together, the two slowly managed to peel Guy’s clothes off of his body until he was sat in only his socks.

Howard once more lifted Guy’s gut and pushed back at the soft fat filling his crotch, unveiling the nub of his cock. He leant forward to lick the exposed head, but quickly had to pull back as his face became enveloped with fat from above.

“You don't have to,” Guy said. “I know that it's not easy to-”

“Lean back,” Howard said, pushing back on Guy’s torso. “And hold your belly.”

Guy obeyed, laying down on the bed so that his flab cascaded back towards his face. Howard pushed down on his fat pad, revealing another inch or so of cock. As Howard took it into his mouth, licking its meager length and the small scrotum, he thought back to the long cock Guy had the last time they'd met, now swallowed on thick fat.

Howard inhaled deeply, taking in the sour musk of Guy’s crotch and continued to lap at the small length available to him. He began to pump the fat surrounding his cock, using it to jerk the length he couldn't see. The wall of fat above him began to shake and quiver, until sticky cum spurted out. Howard noted how sweet it tasted, and wondered if his own cum had gotten sweeter as he'd gotten fatter.

“That was great,” Guy said.

“Glad to be of service,” Howard replied.

Guy shuffled his weight back up the bed, setting the frame creaking and groaning. He patted the bed next to him. “I think I was big spoon last time.”

“I think you might have been,” Howard said. From this angle, Guy looked almost impossibly wide. His gut spilled out, pulled down and to the sides by gravity, so that he resembled a large pillow. Howard settled down next to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, and curled up to the large mass. “I don't think these beds are really built for men our size.”

“Not two of us, anyway,” Guy said. “I can go, if that's easier?”

Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We can stay a while.”

The two lay quietly for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the room.

“It's been a while,” Guy said after a while.

“What has?” Howard asked.

“Since I've been with anyone,” Guy clarified. “Once you reach a certain size, the mechanics all get a bit awkward.”

“How so?” Howard asked.

Guy sighed. “I can barely even reach my cock these days,” he admitted. “Bit of a faff for someone else to reach it, too. Generally guys just feed me these days, then deal with themselves.”

“You okay with that?” Howard asked.

“Oh yeah,” Guy insisted. “Don't worry about me. Not much difference these days between eating and sex for me. But this was… this was nice.”

“You still like it then?” Howard asked. “Being big? Getting bigger?”

“God yes,” Guy beamed. “There's nothing like it. I can't imagine stopping. How about you? Happy to stop where you are?”

“You know, I might well be open to packing a little more on,” Howard said.

“You let me know if you're ever up to getting fed then, eh?” Guy said. “I saw you struggling with those kiddy portions. You’re going to need pushing if you want to get really big.”

“Is that so?” Howard asked, laughing. 

Guy struggled to sit up. “Absolutely,” he said. “I distinctly remember you pushing me to eat two extra slices of pizza beyond what I thought I could. That lesson stuck with me. It's time you learnt it too.” He hauled himself to the side of the bed and panted for a moment or two. “I'll leave you be. Can't have you hanging off the bed all night.”

“Leave your number?” Howard said.

Guy smiled. “Definitely,” he said. He looked down at the clothes strewn about on the floor. “I uh… don't suppose you'd pick up my clothes for me? Bending down’s a bit of an ordeal these days.”

Howard chuckled and helped Guy collect his clothes and put them on. “Let's make sure it's not another decade, eh?”

Guy smiled. “Of course,” he said and patted Howard's gut. “We've got to make sure to put some meat on these bones.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the bed. 

[toptierteaser]

Butterball Status: Pt. 1

A Blowup Anthology Story

“Well, well, well…seems like somebody’s hit ‘Butterball Status” today!”

The taunt, accompanied with a firm poke into his ample abdomen, carried out across the hall, audible to the dozens of Coaches and hundreds of Campers alike. Diego’s mouth fell agape, his plump cheeks reddening as the weight of what had just been said sunk into his stomach way that extra, stale donut had last night. I knew I should’ve laid off the treats for a while! Diego cursed internally.

But Coach Jason simply smiled at him. Or was it more of a sneer? It was hard to tell with Jason. ‘Chubby-chasin’ Jason,’ they called him. Behind his back, of course. Never when the handsome coach was present to make his Campers run an additional lap around the track. Watching diligently as their overblown backsides jiggled uncontrollably with all the added weight. Of course, the Coach could never fully express his predilections, as it would have been social suicide among the other Coaches. But he had his reputation among the Campers, and the fatties had eaten the rumor up faster than a bucket of fried chicken.

Naturally, Jason played up the angle of a Coach being disgusted at his camper for packing on as many pounds as Diego evidently had. And so the sharp poke into his big, juicy tummy transfigured into a grab as Jason’s hand snaked around from Diego’s front to his equally-tubby love handle. The other hand was placed on its twin and Deigo felt himself, helpless, defenseless, and in full view of half the camp, being turned toward the mirror in front of him.

The scale had confirmed it, the numbers having jumped by ten since the last weigh in—how was it even possible he had packed on that much weight in a week?—and Coach Sebastian clacked away at his calculator, racking up Diego’s routinely-increasing BMI. The nerdy coach began snickering behind his glasses as he waved the numbers up in the air. “It’s official!” said the Coach in his nasally voice. “The fat fuck is officially a butterball!”

Those within Diego’s earshot began to snicker and whoop, to offer snide comments about how he had “never quite been able to put the fork down, that one.” Or how it was a “good thing he’ll get bumped up a weight class. His fat ass was barely able to fit through the door as it was, poor fat fuck.”

Diego tried not to let everyone see how badly it affected him, how flustered and embarrassed it was making him. But such teasing, taunting observations weren’t even the worst of it.

                “This is your own fault, you know, pork chop?” said Jason in his ear. Now he really was smiling. “You’re the one who fed yourself up like this, weren’t you fatboy?”

                And as Diego’s round body was wheeled about, he realized the Coach was absolutely right. He almost didn’t recognize himself. Before him stood a tubby young man, the lingerings of handsomeness jutting through the added pudge on his face. but the rest of him was completely unrecognizable. In his time at the Camp, Diego had absolutely buried himself in layers of fat, his belly swelling to completely cover his fly, his thighs porking out ridiculously, his moobs pressing up against his chubbed-up neck. He looked like a big fat scoop of neopolitan ice cream, his warm brown skin busting out from underneath the tight white t-shirt that didn’t even reach his cavernous belly button and his bright pink booty shorts that looked more like painted-on briefs. It had been a while since he’d been forced to look at himself in the mirror and while he still found his shocked, embarrassed face to be handsome, he felt that the rest of him rather resembled an overinflated balloon!

                It was all too much! The image of himself, standing there, big fat legs pressing out against each other, juicy arms unable to rest because his love handles were in the way. His Coach poking and prodding and squeezing his chubby side rolls. The sight of himself, about a bite of cheesecake away from splitting his uniform, completely defenseless. An overfed blowfish who in all likeliness would only be blown up even fatter! He felt himself growing excited, the waistband of his shorts creaking as he felt himself expand within them.

                Calm down, he told himself. Just take a deep breath.

                And then he saw Brandon, the flamboyant Coach who had been a tailor and a hairdresser before they began Rounding Up fatties across the country, walking up to him, smirking with a measuring tape held taut between his hands.

                And as Coach Jason was forced to stand aside as Brandon took the helm, wrapping the tape beneath Diego’s armpits and tut-tutting as he slid down Diego’s sides to his big belly, measuring the ridiculous circumference of the fatass. “Seems like the fat fuck has ballooned his belly wider than his shoulder-width!” said the Coach. And as he said it, Diego felt himself rise, swell, and—PING—the button of his shorts went flying out across the room!

                There was another humiliating snickering that surrounded him, consuming him, driving Diego ever-more flustered.

                And then, as Diego’s obese ass and thunderous thighs were measured, Jason all but shoved Brandon out of the way, grabbing Diego by the love handles and turning him in a 180-degree fashion. “Well, biggums…I’m sad to see you leave the Bunk…but rules are rules…now, there’s only one thing left to do.” And Diego braced himself, hoping his belly covered the exposed fly of his shorts, as he felt the enormous stamp flying out across the air and pressing squarely in his extremely-wide ass.

                He gave an involuntary squeal of embarrassment that thrilled the Coaches. And then, looking more pathetic than ever, Diego turned to look at the mirror over his shoulder, taking in the stamped image of a turkey that now replaced the teddy-bear print on his caked-up ass.

                “Well, then,” said Coach Jason. “All there is for us to do now is to roll you on down to your new bunk and introduce you to the other tubby butterballs!”

[fatasmagoria]

Coming back from the dead to propose a s@w-themed rapid fattening prompt.

Imagine a lithe and slim individual, probably a personal trainer or fitness influencer, who takes pleasure in mocking and bullying their larger clients and any fat person they see on the street. One night, they go to sleep and wake up in a dirty room, their hands bound above their head and a trap door under their feet (although the trap door seems a little stiff.)

A TV in the corner switches on, revealing a creepy puppet with a garbled voice.

“I’d like to play a game. For years, you have ridiculed those larger than yourself. As a fitness coach, you should be inspiring and uplifting, but your mere presence brings shame and embarrassment to so many. You seem more than eager to prescribe fad diets to people and shill your services, so why don’t you give a demonstration?

Under your feet is a trap door that will only open once a weight limit has been reached. You must reach the target weight of 300 pounds in ten minutes. Your progress will be shown via the scale in front of you. If you fail to hit this goal, even by a single pound, the walls will collapse inwards and you will be crushed to death.

A funnel will drop from the ceiling once this recording has finished. It will provide you with the necessary calories to grow.

Live or die. Make your choice.”

Sure enough, a plastic tube emerges from above the influencer and a timer starts on the wall. The scale shows a small figure: 130lbs. A perfect weight for their size. At first, they try screaming, thrashing around and tugging at the restraints to no avail. They try jumping on the trap door. Nothing. Staring at the tube in disgust, they knew they had to bite the bullet.

Oh well. Their metabolism would deal with all this, wouldn’t it? It’s not like they would just magically digest hundreds of pounds of food instantly.

Food, as it turned out, was an overstatement. It was more akin to sweet, fatty slop. They grumbled at the taste, but their fear of death kept them focused. Their belly rapidly expanded to hold all of the liquid, popping out of their tight tank top as if they were pregnant. But strangely, the bloating subsided almost instantly. Instead, their belly started to feel warm, before softness overwhelmed their middle in two small rolls, growing larger with every gulp.

They closed their eyes, despite their horror and anguish, but that didn’t stop them from feeling the effects of the liquid. Their body felt warm all over as it expanded like bread dough in the oven. Their slender figure evaporated, swaddled with layers of softness. Stick-like thighs melted into jiggling slabs of meat, and their cheeks started to rise, squishing their mouth together over the nozzle of the feeding tube. Their ass become two powerful globes of flab, wobbling as they guzzled relentlessly. Their pubic area swallowed their genitals with ease.

At that point, their clothes gave up the fight, seams popping and ripping. Holes in their clothing gave room for even more growth. And the crown jewel of their body was their newly grown belly that was already beginning to sag with the excess weight. Flabby tits rested lazily on top of it, already burst free from the confines of their tiny shirt.

The numbers on the scale were almost tipping 300. Almost. The trap door was creaking under their feet, unable to take the pressure.

280…

281…

A sudden rush of gas flooded their guts, and they leaned back from the tube to belch. At the same time, their legs were getting tired. Gone were the days where they could easily run a marathon. Fully nude, save for the underwear wedged tightly in between their ass cheeks, the former fitness trainer began to feast from the tube again, weeping as their once-skinny body was destroyed.

294…

295…

Almost done…

As the scale hit 300, lots of things happened at once.

Exhausted, their knees gave out, and they thundered ungracefully to the floor, shockwaves rippling in their gelatinous fat. The restraints that were once holding their wrists exploded from the sudden pull of weight, and they noted how puffy said wrists had become, alongside their thick, sausage digits.

The trap door sprang open, and they fell heavily into a pit below. Another juicy burp pushed its way out of them. They looked up to see the room above collapsing, the walls pressed together. Dazed, the newly-formed fatty watches dumbly as the mastermind of the trap strides towards them.

“Congratulations. You are still alive. I would say that you should appreciate life more now, but, ah…”

The mastermind rubbed his face exhaustedly.

“We might need a forklift to get you out of here.”

[gainingfiction]

Heavily Used

Summary: This is a bit experimental (or weird), and maybe a bit predictable, but I had fun writing it. This is a story about an important relationship in a fat guy’s life, and the risk of taking things for granted. It’s also a story about coping (or not coping) with change.

Hope you enjoy!

~

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can only handle so much. It’s one thing to be taken for granted, that’s something we all have to live with. It’s just the total lack of acknowledgment, or even awareness that I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna snap and call it quits.

A little bit about me: I’m stylish, polished, and pretty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. Born in Poland, but my background is Swedish—I’m European, at heart. The name is Anders, but no one actually calls me that. I’m not super high-maintenance, once you figure me out, but everyone needs a little attention from time to time. Some tending.

Especially living with Max.

I’ve known Max for a while, and he’s not a bad guy. He can be a little rough sometimes, and maybe a little careless, but it doesn’t come from a bad place. I think it’s just a lack of self-awareness. And let’s be honest, that’s a common problem among pretty-boy jocks.

The trouble with Max is that he’s not the pretty-boy I once knew. He’s changed… he’s grown. I mean, he’s literally grown. Grown by about a hundred pounds, if I had to guess, and counting. Over the course of our time together, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his ass, and I’ll admit, it’s a great one. But, boy, he’s got a lot more ass for me to handle these days.

It’s not insurmountable, not yet at least. But I’m worried it’s getting there.

It started out simply enough, the innocent midnight snacks and occasional takeout treats. No problem, right? Twunks can afford to indulge a little, especially a hot commodity like Max. But then, you get comfortable. You settle into a routine, you let yourself go. That’s the thing about creatures of beauty: one minute you’re the hottest guy in town, trim and toned, with a golden tan and handsome face and perfect, silky hair. The sort of guy who only seems to exist in a Hollywood version of reality. But then, inevitably, something happens. Sometimes tastes change, or maybe you’re the one doing the changing.

I won’t deny, I’m not in the same shape I was when I entered Max’s life for the first time. Any long-term relationship comes with the normal wear-and-tear. Max, though, has taken it to a whole new level.

The little snacks become big snacks. The extra meals go from “occasional” to “frequent” to “everyday”. Gluttony takes over. A 32-inch waist becomes a 36-inch waist becomes a 40-inch waist; size-small shirts are discarded in the back of the closet, soon joined by ill-fitting mediums, and then by larges, stretched out of shape by a gut that won’t stop getting bigger. Max used to flit around the apartment like a bird; now he lumbers like an elephant, heavy footfalls and a slow, waddling gait. His own warning system—you can hear him coming.

On paper, I know I should be trying to help lighten the load. And it’s not like I’m totally unappreciated; there are days when he comes home from work, legs tired and arms loaded down with takeout, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy to have me. But it doesn’t last long. Once dinner’s over, I’m back to being ignored while he sits on the couch, gorging himself in front of the TV, until he comes around again to stuff his face at the next meal. Which, to be fair, is pretty often these days.

It sounds cruel, the way I talk about his escalating weight, his increasingly-indecent greed. I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish he’d consider how it might affect me. I have to live with him, and he’s starting to cramp my style. But it’s not like I can say anything. I just have to sit there in silence, while he eats and eats, grows and grows, piling on pound after excess pound. And the way he eats, moaning and licking and slurping… it’s downright pornographic.

250 starts to feel like a lowball as the months go by. He’s pushing me to my limits without even realizing it. I’ve never had to deal with a guy this fat before, a guy whose big, round bubble butt would hang over the side of even the most substantial chair. And I, personally, am not “substantial”. I’m pretty thin; it’s just how I was made. I thought Max was made that way, too.

I start trying to make my frustration known, but like I said, I can’t just come right out and say something. So I try a little subtlety; a small groan every now and then when he throws himself down at the dinner table for another round of hedonism. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He just keeps upping the ante.

And upping just about everything else: his pants size, his portion sizes, the size of his monster-truck ass and thunder thighs. They press together whenever he sits down, now, lard against blubber. Not like in the old days when his legs were lithe and lean. His moobs bulge against every tank top, his pudgy arms pack his sleeves, his love handles blossom over the top of every waistband like ripening tropical fruit.

In occasional moments of self-pity, I hazard a guess: how much does my man weigh now? 275 pounds? 300? Is he even trying to do something about it? Clearly not. He never works out anymore, unless you count working up a sweat over a third (or fourth, or fifth) slice of cheesecake. I honestly wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me. Or test me. But I know that’s crazy—like I said, sometimes I truly doubt he even thinks about what it’s like for me.

But the problem is getting harder to ignore; he really throws his weight around these days. He heaves himself up off the couch. He rests a hand on the front of his bulging belly, barely restrained by some poor, threadbare top, back arching forward from the strain of it all (he’s not a tall guy, which makes his increasingly S-shaped silhouette even more pronounced). He trudges from the living room to the kitchen and drops himself in front of the table like an anvil. When he sits down, his ass, spilling out of some indecent pair of jean shorts, spreads out like lava blanketing some hapless Roman hamlet.

Some nights, I strain underneath him, feeling absolutely crushed by his sheer weight, boundless mass bearing down on me with the force of gravity. How big is he now? I wonder, as I listen to him moan and groan with pleasure. 325? 350? Could he really have gained over 200 pounds? How could he not realize what he’s doing to himself—what he’s doing to me?

He’s just so oblivious. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I’ve been starting to make noises about how uncomfortable I am, how much I’m struggling with his extra weight. But, as always, it falls on deaf ears. His tight little butt has become a pair of vast, ponderous globes, his abs and lats and obliques are encased in a spare tire that belongs on an 18-wheeler, his tits bulge out and dangle towards his armpits. And he just. Keeps. Going. 

Keeps eating. Keeps gaining. Keeps expanding.

Things reach a boiling point before dinner one night. I can see him piling up the table, unboxing some outrageous quantity of food for his secret nightly mukbang. Well, secret except for the consequences, which anyone with eyes could notice. “There’s a man who likes his food” would be such a trite, vapid observation that it doesn’t even need saying. He doesn’t just “like” his food, he lives for his food. Food is practically a part of Max’s identity at this point.

He’s starting to lower his colossal ass to sit, and I can tell this is it. Tonight’s the night. Fuck it, I’m done. He’s well past 350 pounds, and that’s too much weight for me to handle.

Maybe he’ll appreciate me more when I’m not around. Hejdå, Max, it was nice knowing you! At least, it used to be.

~

Max sat on the floor, rolls of fat still wobbling from the jarring motion of his fall. His chair had been complaining for a while now—squeaking and groaning every time he sat down—but he hadn’t expected it to actually break. What a load of bullshit! He wasn’t even that fat!

He looked around at the splintered wood, soreness radiating across his ass—and not in a fun, post-fucking kind of way. At least his buttocks were nicely-padded. When he was bony, a slip on the ice hurt like all hell.

He was glad he was alone, or this would have been super embarrassing. At least no one was around to see him smash that chair like a pro-wrestler in a grudge match. He knew he’d been overdoing it, but this wasn’t his fault. How could it be, surely he wasn’t that big? Just a little out of shape, in need of a few good workouts to shed some winter weight. It was just the cheap IKEA furniture he bought.

With a grunt, he started the process of heaving his monumental form to a stand. As he started to gather his momentum, he glanced at the ruined seat and frowned. He actually liked that chair. It was pretty comfortable.

At least, it used to be.

(Author’s Note: don’t forget to rotate your dining chairs!)