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gainingfiction · 2 years

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Summary: Patrick doesn’t believe in curses. He certainly doesn’t believe that the oversized suit he bought as a gag costume is cursed to make him gain weight. And yet….

(Enjoy my 2022 Halloweight-gain-story! Better late than never, right?)

There’s no such thing as magic suits.

At least, that’s what Patrick told himself as he donned his Halloween costume for the evening. The idea was downright laughable. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on the old salesman’s face when he issued his dire warning.

That guy was just weird, Patrick rationalized. It was true: the suit had been purchased from the octogenarian proprietor of an unkempt second-hand store, a heavily-accented man named Yuri who had sworn up and down that Patrick’s prospective Halloween costume was bound by some mysterious curse.

It was literally just a suit. A very big suit, to be fair, but that had nothing to do with magic: its former owner was just fat. Massively, enormously fat, judging by the way Patrick’s slender, athletic frame was drowning in yard after yard of Italian wool.

“You are warned,” Yuri had said. “You will grow into it. Will make you big man. Very big man.”

Patrick scoffed at the mere suggestion. He’d never weighed more than 180 pounds in his whole life. Well, 183, as of this morning. There was no way he’d ever “grow into” such a comically large outfit.

Feeding his belt through the loops, Patrick felt… nothing. No supernatural tingling, no sudden urge to gorge himself at a buffet. He just felt like a fit guy in a big suit. The old man was clearly trying to deploy some strange reverse psychology as a sales tactic. And, to his credit, it had worked. Patrick shelled out twenty dollars just to prove how ridiculous he found the idea of a so-called magic garment, even if it meant that he had no idea how to describe his costume. Sexy Biggest Loser contestant, perhaps?

He studied himself in the mirror, shirtless beneath the gigantic blazer. It wasn’t his usual slutty Halloween apparel, but foregoing a shirt allowed him to show off his tight little pecs and toned abs. Patrick was proud of his hard-earned body, and the way his sculpted jawline and strong cheekbones turned heads wherever he went. No “magic spell” was going to take that away from him.

With a smug smile adorning his perfect pink lips, Patrick left for the party.

The evening wasn’t as awkward as he’d feared. The host, Priti, was an old friend from his college days, and they hadn’t seen much of each other in the two years since graduation. But she welcomed him with enthusiasm, faithfully introducing him to his fellow partygoers: her coworkers from the pharmacy, a few college classmates Patrick had long forgotten about, and, most excitingly, her absolutely stunning cousin, Arjun.

To call Arjun a hunk would be an understatement. He was a walking deity, a 6’2” sculpted fantasy clad in a form-hugging Spiderman suit. If Hollywood needed a new Peter Parker for its endless reboots, they could scarcely do better. His white teeth almost sparkled, his eyes were as warm and deep as the summer sea, his glossy hair perfectly trimmed.

Patrick was smitten from the moment Priti introduced them, and he spent the rest of the evening practically hanging off Arjun’s big, brawny biceps. He was a personal trainer, of all things, and Patrick was quick to point out how much he looked the part. But Arjun didn’t seem put-off by Patrick’s incorrigible flirtation; in fact, he gave as good as he got, trailing his large hands across the lapels of Patrick’s massive suit and praising the quality of the fabric… and what lay underneath.

They were terrible guests, lingering by the snack table, locked in their own smouldering back-and-forth to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. But Patrick didn’t care, guzzling lager after lager and making come-fuck-me eyes at his sexy new friend.

And come-fuck-him Arjun did. They left the party as soon as they could without being rude, practically running to Arjun’s tidy apartment a few blocks over. And boy, did Arjun fuck him. He was a phenomenal lay, a deft top who could throw Patrick around like a ragdoll, bending him over and absolutely railing his toned, slender ass. Patrick came like a geyser, and, after a brief respite, came again.

When they finally collapsed into an exhausted pile, both men resolved to see each other again very soon.

“Very soon”, it so happened, was the next day. And the day after that. Arjun didn’t just look like a god, he fucked like a god, and Patrick couldn’t get enough.

As the weeks passed, Patrick caught himself snacking more than usual. He never kept junk food in the house, but whenever Arjun came over, he always brought something to eat: a bag of chips, a casserole dish of homemade lasagna, a box of fresh eclairs from the bakery down the street. For a personal trainer, he certainly had a taste for fattening treats. Not that he ever ate them himself: after their marathon lovemaking sessions, when they lazed on the couch, Patrick made short work of whatever offering Arjun laid out on the coffee table, while Arjun treated himself to the most occasional of bites.

Patrick knew he was overeating, and he tried to make up for it at the gym, but the weather was getting colder, and he often found himself skipping workouts in favour of a lazy afternoon with his insatiable fuckmachine. By the end of November, Patrick realized that his pants were getting tight.

He didn’t think much of it. It was winter weight, and he’d seen plenty of guys put on a few pounds in the early days of a happy relationship. And things with Arjun were going so well. He was a trainer, after all. Surely he wouldn’t let Patrick get doughy.

And yet, as the end of the year approached, Patrick was looking very doughy indeed. He was stunned when he stepped on the scale a few days before New Years and saw “197” flash across the display. How could he be almost 200 pounds?

He took a hard look in the bathroom mirror, still steamy from his morning shower. Pudge had piled up around his middle, hiding his abs and broadening his torso. And his pecs were looking noticeably puffy.

He turned around and studied his ass. Patrick’s butt had always been his favourite feature, kept trim and perky through years of dieting and rigorous exercise. It was still round and pert, but it looked bigger, now, and softer. There was more to grab and play with. Patrick cupped a handful, eyes widening as soft flesh gave way beneath his fingers.

“I need to go on a diet,” he said, frowning as he emerged from the bathroom.

Arjun looked over at him from the bed, his muscular body splayed out amid the messy sheets. They had been seeing a lot of each other, hooking up almost every day of the week, and Patrick knew that was part of the problem: Arjun was generous with food, and his visits were wreaking havoc on Patrick’s usual gym routine. It had been nearly two weeks since his last workout, and he was starting to feel soft and flabby.

Arjun’s eyes ran across his body, and he gave a small frown. “You look great to me,” he said, trailing a hand over his own abs. Patrick could see Arjun’s boner starting to tent the bedsheets. That was a little confidence boost, at least.

“I’m almost 200 pounds,” Patrick said. Saying it aloud felt shameful, even if Arjun was used to training far larger clients at his gym. But Patrick had never been big in his life. Even spread over six feet of height, 200 pounds felt like a bigger number than Patrick was comfortable with. “I’m getting chubby.”

Arjun shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you look sexy. Lots of guys are going for that beefy look, anyway.”

Patrick wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to be argumentative. Arjun was so easygoing, the last thing Patrick wanted was to seem high-maintenance. They hadn’t talked about labels yet, but Patrick was hoping to have that conversation soon. And if he wanted to be exclusive, he didn’t want to kill his chances by broadcasting his neuroticism to the hottest guy he’d ever dated.

But he couldn’t let it go completely. “Still,” he said, laying a hand over his heart and feeling the flesh that gathered around his nipple. “I need to start working out again. It’s been too long.”

Arjun gestured to his erection, and then patted the bed next to him: “Well, how about we have a little workout of our own?”

Patrick grinned, and nearly leapt into bed.

By mid-January, Patrick absolutely couldn’t avoid buying new pants. His usual rotation now dug into his waist almost painfully, the button protesting against his excesses. And his ass and thighs were an existential threat to the seams, which looked about one wrong move away from total collapse.

Patrick briefly considered a return trip to Yuri’s messy boutique, but he had no desire to see that weird guy again, or get another warning about magic spells. So he ended up at his favourite thrift store, where he was helped by a very handsome Middle Eastern employee in a Blondie t-shirt.

Patrick had to admit, size 34 fit a lot better than his usual 32s, and he felt his old confidence returning as he strode into the restaurant for a hot date with Arjun.

That confidence began to wane as he sat across from his jacked dinner companion, leaving Patrick feeling distinctly unimpressive. While Patrick had opted for a loose-fitting t-shirt, hoping to disguise his winter weight, Arjun filled out a tailored button-down like he was modelling it for a catalogue.

That night, they made their relationship official. They’d been practically exclusive since Halloween, anyway, spending almost all their spare time together. They fucked relentlessly, but they were also starting to act more like a couple: cuddling on the couch, window shopping downtown… and eating. Well, Patrick was eating, whether they were dining out, or staying in for the elaborate dinners that Arjun carefully prepared. A stud who could cook: Patrick felt like he had hit the jackpot. And now that stud was all his.

He was so excited to have locked down such a catch that Patrick didn’t think twice about polishing off Arjun’s half-finished chicken parm, and then eating 95% of the cheesecake they had planned on “splitting” for dessert.

As it turned out, Arjun was quite the romantic. Now that he was Patrick’s boyfriend, his generous doting ratcheted up to the next level: other couples might swap boxes of chocolate on Valentine’s Day, but Arjun started showing up with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate truffles four weeks before that. Big boxes. Patrick didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he dutifully munched his way through each one, even as he started to tire of so much chocolate, even as he grew uncomfortably full.

Patrick knew he should have been watching his weight, but his commitment to Arjun (and Arjun’s commitment to him) acted as a safety net, a way to avoid taking a hard look at the consequences of his new relationship. And those consequences were starting to grow: Patrick’s sides now sported a small pair of love handles, just big enough to overhang the waistband of his briefs, and a small dome of fat rested atop his torso. His ass swelled, his thighs thickened… he wasn’t just growing a gut, he was porking up all over.

When he stepped on the scale on Valentine’s Day, the number nearly made him faint. 213 pounds. This was bad. This was very, very, bad. Patrick knew he was gaining weight; his 34-inch jeans, not yet a month old, were already feeling snug. But to have stacked on 30 pounds of pure blubber in just three and a half months… Well, it almost defied belief.

For an instant, Patrick thought back to Yuri’s warning. Will make you big man. He shook his head. Surely this wasn’t the work of a magic suit. He had just gotten lazy, and perhaps a bit gluttonous. He had been to the gym exactly twice since New Years, but he was eating far more than he used to, even when he worked out almost daily. Of course he was bound to gain weight.

He broached his concerns to Arjun over dinner. “I really need to stop pigging out,” he said, eying the bread basket that the waiter had just set in front of them. He wanted to grab a piece of bread, but he restrained himself.

Arjun looked bemused. “What do you mean?” he said, as if he genuinely hadn’t noticed Patrick rapidly gaining 30 pounds.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and gestured to his middle. “Look at me. I told you I was getting chubby, and now I’m getting fat. It’s gross.”

Arjun’s face fell. “Don’t say that,” he said, reaching out to rest his hand on top of Patrick’s. “I think you’re every bit as hot as the day I met you.”

Patrick scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled, avoiding Arjun’s gaze. It was embarrassing: Arjun looked as perfect as ever; clearly he could control himself. And yet, Patrick had done nothing but laze around, sitting on his ass all day at work and then going home to eat. Having sex was about the extent of his physical activity, these days.

“I mean it,” Arjun said, firmly. “You’re gorgeous. I’m lucky to have you.”

That coaxed a smile out of Patrick, but he was still embarrassed. “Even if I’m letting myself go?”

Arjun’s face took on a defiant quality. “I hate that phrase. ‘Letting yourself go’. It makes it sound like you’ve given up on life. But you haven’t. Look at me, are you happy?”

As he gazed into Arjun’s eyes, Patrick considered it. He had the man of his dreams, things were going well at work… finally, he nodded. He was happy.

“Then you haven’t let yourself go. You haven’t given up on life, you’re enjoying life. And if it shows, it shows. I could not care less,” Arjun said, stroking Patrick’s hand, his eyes searching Patrick’s face.

“You work at a gym, though,” Patrick said, resting his free hand on his stomach. His belly now rubbed against the front of even his loosest shirts, making itself unignorable. “You’re surrounded by guys who are way hotter than me, hotter than I’ve ever been.”

“Honey,” Arjun said. “Stop. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. You’re going to eat that bread, because I know you want to. We’re going to get a bottle of wine. You’re going to order the fettuccine, because it’s your favourite, and I’m going to treat you to that lava cake you love for dessert. Then we’re going to go home, get naked, and I’m going to show you how sexy I find every single inch of you. I know we said no gifts, but… I hear I’m pretty gifted.” He smiled.

Patrick had to admit, that sounded pretty good.

Over the following weeks and months, the pattern repeated itself. Arjun showered Patrick with love, in the form of massive meals and piles of snacks. Patrick outgrew his 34s, and then his 36s. His weight slipped up to 224 pounds by the end of February, and 231 by the end of March. Even as “winter weight” ceased to be an excuse, and sunny April gave way to May, Patrick’s weight climbed beyond 240 pounds, and his 38-inch pants were getting uncomfortable.

He was confronted with a twinge of apprehension every time he checked the scale, every time he had to buy clothes in a size he never dreamed he’d need. And Arjun faithfully assuaged his anxieties, his gentle touch and loving words so soft and soothing that Patrick’s fears melted away.

But it wasn’t Arjun’s gentleness that made the biggest difference, it was his forcefulness. In the bedroom, his enthusiasm only seemed to grow alongside Patrick’s body. In the early days of their relationship, Arjun had been smooth and methodical, confidently gripping the firm edges of Patrick’s muscular frame. But lately, his lust was palpable, almost animal. Patrick could feel Arjun losing control as he gripped and squeezed Patrick’s broad, round stomach, cupped his budding breasts, slapped and groped and generally manhandled Patrick’s ever-fattening ass. There was a new intensity to their sex, already intense to begin with, that filled Patrick an unfamiliar, slightly disorienting sensation: excitement about his fattening body. A desire to grow.

He tried to deny it, at first, to dismiss it as a side-effect of the consistently Earth-shattering sex he was having. But even when Arjun wasn’t around, when he was all alone with just his fat belly to keep him company, that excitement didn’t abate. Something was happening to him. When he stepped on the scales on May 14th, his birthday, and saw that he weighed 251 pounds, he did still feel a little pang of anxiety. But he also felt something else, a distinct and undeniable stirring in his crotch that could only be arousal.

“Happy birthday,” Arjun purred, as they lay in bed that night. Patrick had just enjoyed the absolute best rimjob of his life, a sexual experience like no other. Arjun may not have been a big eater, but he ate ass like an absolute glutton, planting his face firmly between Patrick’s big, round buttocks and going to town with insatiable vigour. “Did you like that?”

Patrick could only nod, still trying to catch his breath. His extreme sedentariness, on top of gaining almost seventy pounds in less than 7 months, had left him seriously out of shape. His old workout routine wouldn’t just be a challenge for him, it would be an impossibility.

Arjun must have sensed how spent their sexcapade had left Patrick, since he gave a slight chuckle. His hand was draped across Patrick’s chubby chest, his nimble fingers stroking Patrick’s perky nipple. Patrick was acutely aware of his double-chin as he lowered his face to look down at his tits; he hadn’t expected that even his nipples would grow, but he was certainly enjoying the added sensitivity.

“You’re really good at that,” Patrick said, lamely, still trying to bring himself back to Earth. “Like, really good at that.”

“Well, you have a very delicious ass,” Arjun said, giving Patrick’s nipple a tweak and making him shiver. With a smirk, he added: “Like, very delicious.”

“Well there’s a lot of it, these days,” Patrick said. He didn’t even know how he felt about that: bitter? Gleeful? His emotions were so muddled, so clouded by his libido—especially in the afterglow—that they had become a Gordian Knot.

“More cushion for the pushin’,” Arjun said, simply, and patted Patrick’s gut.

“So you really like fat asses, huh?” Patrick said. Arjun’s inclinations had been obvious for months, but Patrick had been avoiding the conversation. He knew he was falling for this guy, but he was afraid that Arjun just saw him as a kinky sex-toy, someone he could fatten up and discard before moving onto the next unwitting twink. He knew that was irrational, and horribly unfair to a man who had been nothing but good to him, but he couldn’t stop looking for a catch.

“I do,” Arjun said. He looked Patrick in the eyes, and Patrick looked back. No matter what Arjun’s body looked like, those eyes could make any man fall in love. “But I specifically love your ass, fit or fat.”

“But you prefer it fat,” Patrick pressed on. He wanted an admission, tangible proof that Arjun had been knowingly spurring on his explosive weight gain. Surely it couldn’t be—

Patrick nipped that train of thought right in the bud. It wasn’t the fucking suit. There’s no such thing as a magic suit.

“Yeah, I like it fat,” Arjun said, biting his lower lip as he glanced away. It was a very cute look. Bashfulness suited him.

Patrick had his confession. Arjun was a chubby chaser, and Patrick was getting chased. He was quiet for a few moments, deciding what to do. Did he want to be thin again, an archetypical hottie who lit up a room? If so, he could destroy everything that might have caused this slide into obesity—because that’s what he was, now, fully and definitively obese. He could burn his old Halloween costume, kick Arjun to the curb, and diet interminably until he could see his abs again. It wasn’t too late.

He could also try to lose weight with Arjun; if he was telling the truth, if he really did appreciate Patrick’s body at any size, he would support him. He’d probably still burn the suit, in that case, just to be on the safe side.

But then, there was a third door. A very wide door, beckoning Patrick to step forward until his steps became a heavy, lumbering waddle. He could keep eating. Keep gorging. Keep gaining. Let himself blow up like a balloon, pack on the pounds until Arjun’s handsome face was entirely lost in a sea of ass-fat.

Patrick stepped towards door number three. Maybe he could try it, just for a while. What harm could a couple more pounds do, on top of the 70 he’d already gained? He smiled, lopsidedly. “How fat do you like it?” he asked, finally. “How fat are you gonna make it?”

Arjun looked up at him, mouth agape. “I—You—What?” he stammered.

Patrick doubled down. “What are you gonna do to my ass? How big are we talking: pumpkin? Beach balls? Minivan?”

Arjun inhaled sharply, no doubt surprised by this turn of events. Patrick could feel his boyfriend’s cock swelling against his pudgy thigh. The fact that the suggestion of a minivan-sized ass inspired that sort of arousal told Patrick all he needed to know. Surely he wouldn’t get that fat—it was a little bit of anatomically-implausable sexual hyperbole—but he definitely wouldn’t mind giving Arjun a bigger ass to play with. At least a little bigger.

Patrick didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Why don’t you go get the rest of my birthday cake and you can show me again how much you love fat asses?”

Arjun leapt out of bed like the athlete he was, bare cock standing proudly at attention. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick grinned. His 25th year was off to a very good start.

It was hard to get used to the idea that he might actually enjoy being fat, and want to get even fatter. He was naturally thin—he used to be, at least—so the concept that weight gain could be something fun, something to be encouraged, was alien to Patrick at first. And yet, he couldn’t deny his body. His belly was growing accustomed to eating big, and his dick was clearly enjoying it. With those two powerful appendages urging him on, compounded by Arjun’s relentless feeding, Patrick continued to balloon.

I’ll gain maybe five more pounds. Ten tops, Patrick told himself the day after his birthday. And yet, a month later, the scale said he had gained 12. Okay, maybe ten more, he reasoned. 260 didn’t feel as big as he thought it would, anyway. Sure, he was huge, but he didn’t feel that huge. 250 and 260 weren’t so different, right? And besides, what was he supposed to do? Stop eating the food he’d come to love? Go back to the gym he’d abandoned months ago? Deny Arjun the great pleasure of his growing body?

He still had moments of uncertainty. When he couldn’t button his pants, and he realized that he had hopelessly outgrown anything smaller than a 42-inch waist, Patrick felt a pit in his stomach. What am I doing to myself? He wondered, as he made one last feeble attempt to stuff himself into a pair of 40s.

But when he gave up, and let his hands roam across his gut, his nervousness evaporated. It was so soft, so fun to knead and fondle and play with. He’d gained so much, so quickly, that it still held its round shape, but rolls were starting to crop up, with a noticeable one forming between his breasts and his belly. His love handles expanded, too, and he realized how apt that name was: they really were like handles, slabs of side-fat that he could wrap his fingers around and properly squeeze, feeling the give of so much stretch mark-lined flesh. And he really did love them.

He let his hands slip up further, cupping his breasts, bouncing one and then the other. He felt like an absolute cow as mammary fat spilled between his fingers. Those last 12 pounds must have hit his chest and upper belly hard.

By the time Patrick stood, kicking off the jeans that could no longer handle him, he wasn’t anxious at all: he was horny.

Arjun took care of that.

Over the following months, Patrick felt like a kid who couldn’t go to bed. But instead of “ten more minutes”, it was “ten more pounds”. His ass, a feature that Arjun adored even more than Patrick himself, spread and swelled, and he found himself bumping into things constantly. He could still remember what it was like to have small, hard glutes, but that memory was starting to fade as he buried those glutes deeper and deeper under an ever-growing layer of pure, unadulterated lard. His perky little ass, the crown jewel of his twinkish body, had given way to a pair of vast, juicy buttocks. It was still holding its round shape, each cheek almost perfectly globular and still pert. But as he passed 280 pounds, Patrick could tell that gravity would have the last laugh.

By early July, he’d gained exactly 100 pounds, sitting pretty at 283. He hadn’t expected that gaining weight would make him hairier, but it made sense. More surface area needed more fuzz to cover it all, and his gut was getting massively fuzzy. That was one of many unexpected changes. Others weren’t quite as fun, like the soreness he felt in his lower back when he had to stand for more than 20 minutes, a side-effect of living life with a 50-pound medicine ball strapped to his abdomen. But even that wasn’t so bad: it gave him an excuse to live an even more idle existence, with Arjun happy to indulge him.

The sweating was another unwelcome companion. In the summer heat, he could really feel the hundred pounds of added insulation. He used to love going to the beach, playing volleyball with his friends and flaunting his slender body for admiring onlookers. This year, he preferred relaxing indoors, where he could let it all hang out and feel the cool AC on his sprawling belly. Arjun joked that his house was like an icebox, and Patrick pointed out that that was where a pig belonged.

They did make it to the beach a few times, including on Labour Day. Patrick shied away from taking off his shirt, at first, but Arjun talked him into it, and his expression of unrestrained adoration made it all worthwhile. They must have made quite the pair: the personal trainer, 200 pounds of rock-hard muscle, walking hand-in-hand with a red-faced porker who outweighed him by a hundred pounds, rolls of fat bouncing and wobbling as he ambled down the boardwalk.

“I think we’re confusing people,” Patrick said. He lay in the sand, tonguing an overloaded ice cream cone. A middle-aged couple openly stared at him as they walked past, looking from Arjun to Patrick and back again in search of a logical explanation. The explanation was obvious, but clearly beyond their comprehension.

“Well, you’re due for some more sunscreen. How about we really put on a show?” Arjun suggested, licking his lips.

Patrick leaned back, flicking down his sunglasses, and kept working on his ice cream as Arjun slathered his belly with creamy lotion. It was a blatant belly rub, and heads certainly turned at the sight of the stunning jock basting his beloved pig, but Patrick was so focused on the pleasurable feeling that he barely noticed the slack-jawed onlookers. Arjun pressed his fingertips deep into Patrick’s flab, a skillful massage that left Patrick wanting more.

When he finished his ice cream cone, he got his wish: “Roll over,” Arjun said. “I’ll do your back.”

Another shift occurred when Patrick crossed the 300-pound mark. He’d expected 300 pounds to be incomprehensibly fat, a size beyond all reason, but it didn’t feel that much bigger than 250. The difference between 250 and 200 had felt much more pronounced. Sure, he had more rolls now, and his gut hung out well in front of him, but he wouldn’t mind being bigger. He did dispense with the fiction that he’d stop in another ten pounds: he’d reassess at 350. That was a nice, round number, and it wouldn’t sneak up on him the way 10 pounds always seemed to.

He thought back to January, just nine months earlier, when he’d been terrified of crossing 200 pounds. It was an amusing thought; that version of Patrick was positively tiny compared to the man he now was, and he was far from afraid of growing. He was actually looking forward to it. Dating an incredibly sexy feeder had grown his confidence. It had changed him.

Or maybe it’s that suit, a nagging voice in Patrick’s head said. Sometimes, when he was self-conscious about how quickly he was ballooning, he fell back on that old line: it wasn’t his fault, he was the victim of paranormal forces beyond his control. But he knew he couldn’t blame a stupid Halloween costume for his out-of-control gluttony. It was all on him, and his encouraging boyfriend.

Changes were occurring in the bedroom, too. As fat became a bigger driving force behind his sexuality, Patrick leaned deeper into his submissive side. He liked feeling Arjun’s forceful hands all over his bulging body. He liked to hear what a fat, out-of-control pig he was becoming. Just hearing the word “hog” leave Arjun’s lips was enough to ratchet up Patrick’s arousal by an order of magnitude. He was a pig, a desperate little piggy who needed to be stuffed from both ends.

When he could feel Arjun inside of him, his voluminous belly tantalizingly close to brushing the bed, his fat jiggling with every forceful thrust… that was pure heaven. He honestly wasn’t sure he could go back to sex as a skinny boy again. Now that been told that he was Arjun’s pig, felt his hundreds of pounds shake and bounce as he bottomed, he didn’t see how it could compare.

“Can you believe we’ve known each other for almost a year?” Arjun asked one day, in mid-October. He was nearly done unpacking the last of his boxes, having moved into Patrick’s apartment as soon as his lease was up. That had been the source of some debate: Arjun’s place was nicer, but it was a fourth-floor walk-up, and Patrick didn’t think he could handle all that cardio. The rent was cheaper in Patrick’s building, anyway, and between the elevators and the air conditioning, it felt like a better fit for a growing fatboy.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” Patrick replied. He meant it. He thought back to the person Arjun had met, and how much he’d changed in their time together.

There had been one other change since last Halloween: Patrick was starting to wonder if maybe there were such things as magic clothes. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame his weight on a spell, but still… Yuri had said Patrick would get fat, and fat was exactly what he had gotten. He was shirtless, his heavy thighs overloading a pair of stretchy basketball shorts. He eyed his gut, admiring the way it bounded forward into his lap, a crop of hair covering his impressive collection of stretch marks.

“Priti’s throwing another Halloween party this year,” Arjun said, as he shelved some of his books. “Any couple’s costume ideas?”

Patrick mulled it over. Just six months ago, he would have been embarrassed by a costume that emphasized his fat. Now, he wanted to display the full magnitude of his size. “Farmer and prize pig? Fat guy, hot wife?”

“Oh, I know. Jabba the Hutt and Princess Leia,” Arjun said, smirking.

“I would love to see you in that metal bikini, but you might get cold,” Patrick said. “We have some time to think it over, at least.”

Arjun nodded. “We could always just repeat our old costumes,” he said. “But I think ‘Biggest Loser contestant’ might take on a new meaning, in your case.”

“That may have been my worst costume ever,” Patrick said. “But I do remember one guy seemed to appreciate it.”

“Well, he sounds smart, and very handsome,” Arjun said. He tossed himself onto the couch, slinging his arm over Patrick’s protruding keg.

“Yeah, but he has a bit of an ego,” Patrick teased, kissing his man on the cheek. “Thank God he’s great in bed.”

Arjun snuggled in closer, and Patrick melted beneath his forceful touch, delighting as his bare belly was kneaded and rubbed. Whatever the costume, Patrick couldn’t wait to spend another Halloween with Arjun.

“I really don’t think it’ll fit,” Arjun said, staring at the suit that Patrick had worn for Halloween just three years before.

In that time, he’d gone far beyond doubling his weight: he’d shot past 400 pounds, and now hovered—or rather, sprawled out—around 460. Naturally, his gains had slowed down, but he was still growing at a fairly rapid rate, and he could see 500 pounds in the not-so-distant future.

“Just let me give it a try,” Patrick said, feeling defiant. The suit had been so outrageously large on him, swallowing his lean body. But as he held up the pants, each leg larger than his waist had once been, he was forced to reckon with the fact that they looked smaller than anything he usually wore.

He stepped into them as gingerly as a man of such impressive proportions could hope to, and started to pull them up. But as the fabric gathered around his thighs, he could feel trouble brewing. As he started to tug them over his ass, he knew that this was a fool’s errand.

Too proud to quit, he kept trying, his enormous gut swaying and wobbling from the motion, the exertion starting to take his breath away. He could feel his rolls quivering and his ample breasts bouncing as he pulled pointlessly on the waistband. He’d covered a little over two thirds of the sprawling hillsides he called an ass before he finally surrendered, out of breath and sweating.

He sighed defeatedly. “I definitely can’t wear this to Priti’s wedding.”

Arjun rubbed his broad back. “Hey, no worries. We can give it away. And who knows, maybe we’ll find a tailor who can turn a canvas tent into a kurta big enough to fit you.”

Patrick laughed. “Or maybe we can just go shopping at Big & Tall. And as for getting rid of this suit, I think I know where to go.”

He had to go back to the place where it all began, the source of this mysterious garment. There had been a brief window of time where it had actually fit, but for most of the time Patrick owned it, it had gathered dust in his closet, either too big or too small for public consumption, taunting him all the while.

He’d told Arjun long ago about Yuri’s bizarre warning, and Arjun had dismissed it as quickly as Patrick once had. Patrick knew it was nonsense, but still… if he had the opportunity, he wanted to hear it from the source.

He paused to rest and recover for a bit once he’d stripped off the pants, sitting on the bed as Arjun carefully placed the massive outfit on a hanger. Finally, Patrick got up and stuffed himself into an enormous pair of sweatpants, before pulling on a colossal t-shirt that nevertheless failed to fully contain his girth, leaving sizable swathes of fat exposed at the front and on the sides.

He waddled his way to the elevator, different rolls and bulges shifting and bouncing with every step. Finally, he reached Arjun’s car, relieved to be able to sit down again. He dropped himself into the passenger seat, and the car dipped to the side beneath so much added weight. Driving him to work must have been hell on poor Arjun’s gas mileage, but Patrick was getting too fat to safely operate his own little sedan.

He gave directions to the shop, eager to see if it even still existed. Perhaps that was part of the magic, and it had never existed at all… but no, eventually Arjun turned onto the quiet street at the edge of downtown, and parked mercifully close to the store’s shabby storefront. Somehow, it was very much still in existence.

Patrick lumbered through the doors, expecting to see Yuri doing some sort of mysterious ritual. Instead, he saw a handsome young man in a purple tracksuit, staring distractedly at his phone. The store was empty, just as it had been last time, and no neater than Patrick remembered.

He bellied up to the cash register, resting the frontmost portion of his gut on the counter to take some of the load off his back. “I’m—” he paused, realizing that the short walk from the car had left him out of breath. Jesus, I’m out of shape, he thought. He looked around for Arjun, who wore an unimpressed expression as he browsed one of the disorganized racks. “I’m here to donate this,” he managed, his breathing having slowed enough to converse.

The guy looked up from his phone, awestruck. Patrick was used to being the fattest person a lot of people had seen in a while, sometimes ever, and he had acquired a taste for their shocked expressions. He liked to watch their eyes try to explain to their brains the full scope of the human being in front of them. Patrick sat the suit down on the counter. “I bought it here a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Uh, okay,” the guy said. Clearly this was TMI. The cashier at his go-to thrift store always seemed excited to hear about Patrick’s escalating poundage, but he was a rare breed. “You can just leave it here.”

Patrick couldn’t just leave. He’d come here for a purpose. “But… I’ve got to know,” he said. He glanced around the store, still empty, and lowered his voice. He leaned towards the cashier, who looked more confused than ever. “Is this thing really cursed?”

The cashier goggled at him. “Cursed?” He repeated, probably questioning his hearing.

“Yeah. That’s what the old man who works here told me, but I didn’t believe him. I was smaller than you when I bought it, but now look at me.”

“Wh—old man? You mean uncle Yuri?” The guy said. His face broke into a broad grin and he covered it with his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, but that suit is definitely not cursed.”

“Look at me, though,” Patrick repeated. “I’m a whale!” To drive the point home, he grabbed the part of his belly that poked out from under the hem of his shirt and gave it a shake, sending waves of gelatinous motion through his rolls of flab.

“Okay, but…” the cashier sighed. “Yuri is a weird guy. He likes fat guys. Half the clothes he sells are supposedly ‘cursed’ with some spell that makes guys fat. But it’s not real. He just thinks he can fatten guys up with the power of suggestion. I don’t know why he does it, it’s not like they ever come back.”

Patrick folded his chubby arms, forcing his voluminous cleavage together. “So the ‘power of suggestion’ made me gain 275 pounds?”

The cashier’s eyes widened. “Well, what have you been eating?”

Patrick considered his consumption that morning. It was only 11 AM, but he’d already eaten two breakfasts. The first was a handful of sausage McGriddles with a half-dozen hashbrowns, washed down with a large iced mocha, and followed up with half a dozen powdered donuts. “But… maybe it’s the suit that’s making me hungry,” he said, halfheartedly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

The dreamboat behind the register arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, dude. You seriously believe in magic clothes?”

Patrick hesitated. It all seemed crazy, to him, but how else could have turned into such a fatass? He’d been a hunk! There had to be a supernatural explanation.

The cashier picked up the suit and studied it. “I remember this. People don’t bring us bespoke Italian suits very often. The guy who gave it away lost a bunch of weight, he said he wouldn’t need it anymore. Does that sound cursed to you?”

Patrick frowned. His ego compelled him to come up with some explanation other than gluttony and sloth, something that would absolve him of responsibility for his own fattening choices. “Well, maybe Yuri put a spell on it.”

The cashier rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself, man. Yuri was a professor of statistics at Lomonosov. Not some wizard. He moved to this country to hit on chubby American boys, like yourself, not to hex twinks, or whatever you think happened to you.”

“Chubby” seemed like an understatement, given Patrick’s current state of morbid obesity, but he appreciated the guy’s generosity. “So I’m… just fat, for no reason?”

The guy smirked. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reason, but it’s not this suit.”

As if on cue, the reason for Patrick’s staggering size appeared at his side. “So, no curse?” Arjun said.

The guy rolled his eyes. “No, no curse. I can take it off your hands if it doesn’t fit anymore, but I wouldn’t expect anything to change.”

Patrick was pensive as they left the store, contemplating what he’d just heard. So Yuri had just… made it all up? Because he was kinky?

Then what was this all about? Patrick wondered. Surely there were more direct ways to indulge in your kink. It all felt a bit strained.

“I don’t know,” he said, as he waddled over to Arjun’s SUV. “I still think the spell could be real. I mean, I was wearing the suit when I met you, and you’ve been a horrible influence.”

Arjun seemed to consider this theory. “Eh, come on. I’ve dated gainers before, and they’ve all gained weight without magic clothes to help them. And now that the suit is gone, do you really think you’ll stop gaining?”

Patrick sighed. Was he the author of his own massive fate? Was there really nothing supernatural at play? He felt like pointing out that those guys had been gainers when Arjun met them, but he continued before Patrick had the chance.

“But…” Arjun rubbed his chiselled chin as he reached the driver’s side door. “Maybe you’re onto something. Maybe our relationship is the spell, the thing that’s turned you into such an insatiable gainer. Maybe it’s our love that’s magic.”

Patrick laughed out loud as he started the process of heaving himself into the passenger seat. “You’re so damn cheesy. C’mon, man. ‘Power of love’ my fat ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arjun smiled. “Speaking of cheesy, want some poutine?”

Patrick pawed at his massive gut, which grumbled its demand. “That depends, lover boy. Is it magic poutine? Will it make me even fatter?”

Arjun’s smile broadened. “I think we can figure something out.”

#non-consensual feeding/fattening #light teasing/degradation #weight gain #male weight gain #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #apologies to my followers in Australia and New Zealand who will wake up to this on November 1st lol

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