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zelda6344 · 4 days ago

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Changing My Body for You

A Weight Gain/Muscle Gain Romance

“What do you want?” Nadine asked when she answered the door. No “hello.” No “won’t you come in?” I’d been dating her twin brother for two years now, and she still treated me like an annoying neighbor who came over uninvited.

“Can I come in?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.” She trudged over to her couch and sat, arms crossed.

I forced a smile as I sat across from her. “I came here to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Phil’s birthday is coming up, and…”

“My birthday too, genius.”

“Yeah. Both your birthdays. I really want to get him something special, and I was hoping you could help.”

“You need money,” she muttered.

“No. I have plenty saved up, and I know what he’s into. There’s a lot of stuff I could get him, but I wanted to ask if there was something from his childhood that he was into.”

“Like a toy?” Nadine asked.

“No. Well, maybe. I… thought that the best surprise would be if I got him something we’d never talked about, something that only you would know.”

She glared at me. “And why would I help you?”

I always suspected that the reason Nadine hated me so much was because her twin spent more time with me than her. She was jealous that I’d taken all his time and affection. (Either that, or she was just naturally a bitch.)

To use her jealousy to my advantage, I said, “I wanted to ask you because he loves you more than anyone. You’re closer to him than I am, so I thought you could give me some advice. But if you’re not as close as I thought, then just pretend I didn’t ask.”

That seemed to work in a reverse psychology, duck-season/rabbit-season kind of way. She shifted in her seat. Clearly she had something in mind. “No. I can’t tell you.”

I had to push harder. “Okay, I guess I was wrong about your relationship. Thanks anyway.” I stood up to leave.

“Fine. I’ll tell you. But you’re not gonna like it.”

I sat back down. “Is it expensive?”

“It’s not a gift you can buy. And if I tell you, you promise not to say that you heard it from me? I was sworn to secrecy.”

Sworn to secrecy. Sounds embarrassing. I imagined that he had a childhood interest in My Little Pony or something. This was exactly what I wanted to learn.

“Promise.”

She thought for a long time, weighing the pros and cons of telling me, before blurting out, “Since Phil was a little kid, he’s had an obsession with fat.”

“With what?”

I knew what “fat” meant, but in the context of this conversation, I assumed she was talking about a brand name or slang word.

“Fat. Weight gain. Bellies.”

Was she messing with me? Phil and I literally met at the gym. He was the most athletic guy I knew. For foreplay, sometimes we’d just watch each other pump iron in our home gym, get sore and sweaty, and then take things into the bedroom.

“When we were teens, he told me that his biggest dream was to date a hot, muscular guy—like you!—and fatten him up without him knowing. Like secretly sabotage his health and make him obese.”

I stared into her eyes, trying to see any signs that she was lying. I didn’t. She wasn’t even blinking.

“He’d really fatten someone up without their permission?”

“Of course not!” she snapped. “He’s too nice for that. He just has this kink that he’d never act on. So take that information however you want.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. “Uh, thanks.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I headed toward the front door, lost in my thoughts. She didn’t see me out.

***

I didn’t trust Nadine. She’d made it clear over and over how much she wanted her brother to break up with me. The obvious explanation for her “advice” was that she wanted to sabotage me. She wanted me to fatten myself up, sabotage my (pretty hot) body, and force Phil to break up with me.

Deep down, I knew that was her plan.

But I still had my doubts. For one thing, it was such a weirdly specific lie. Only a full-on psychopath would even think of something like that. For another thing, there was the risk involved. Even though she swore me to secrecy, she knew there was the very real chance that I’d tell Phil what she said, which could seriously backfire for her.

So yeah, even though it logically didn’t make sense, there was a part of me that believed her. That’s what compelled me to test the waters a little bit and see Phil’s reaction.

My first step happened at the gym. We always did the same routine, but on the day after my conversation with Nadine, I pulled him aside as he headed toward the treadmill.

“Babe,” I said, “I’ve decided to cut back on cardio a little bit. I feel a little too lean.”

I studied his reaction, which was frustratingly blank. Told me nothing.

“Are you okay with that? If I focus on lifting for a while? See what happens.”

That made him smile, my first sign that maybe he was into me chunking out a little. “If that’s what you want…”

For the rest of our workout, I pushed myself on the bench press while he stuck to the regular routine. I noticed him glancing over at me a couple times, a sly smile on his face.

My second step happened right after we hit the showers. We had a tradition of getting protein wraps after our Sunday workouts, but this time, I asked if we could go to a diner instead. “I’m feeling extra hungry today.”

Another smile. Interesting.

He ordered a chicken wrap (no different from what he usually got) while I ordered a stack of pancakes and a milkshake. His eyes widened as I placed the order. And when the food finally arrived, I made sure to shovel it into my mouth like I hadn’t eaten in days.

He stared at me the entire time.

By the end of the meal, I was more certain than ever that he was turned on by the possibility of my weight gain. I don’t know. Maybe 60% certain. Enough to keep going.

That evening, I told Phil that I needed to “run errands” while he made dinner. He didn’t ask any questions.

Before I left, I rushed over and kissed his cheek. (He was adding ingredients to a lasagna.) “Ooh. That looks great. Can you add a ton of extra cheese this time?”

He got really flustered. Before he could answer, I rushed out the door.

I went straight to Walmart, where I loaded up on snack foods and weight gain powder. I felt so freaking excited as I waited for the self-check-out. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement over Phil’s surprise or… some kind of sexual excitement. I don’t know. But my heart was definitely racing.

Then I swung by McDonalds and ordered two Big Mac meals. I hadn’t eaten fast food in years. (Didn’t really like it.) But the key word was “fast.” Phil’s birthday was only two months away, so I needed to work fast.

I scarfed down the burgers (still didn’t like them) and struggled to finish all the fries. I couldn’t stop burping. On the ride home, I rubbed my throbbing gut. I was dreading the actual dinner that was waiting for me back home. But I was also really, really excited.

Okay, maybe that excitement was sexual. Even with the pain in my stomach, I felt my crotch stirring.

When I got home, I rushed into the bathroom to swirl around some mouthwash before Phil could smell the grease on my breath. Then I joined him in the dining room.

“Babe, that looks amazing. I am so freaking hungry.”

He gave me a curious smile. He knew that something was up, and he liked it.

As we ate, we talked about TV and our weekend plans. Nothing too interesting. Phil did most of the talking, though. I was getting into an eating rhythm, plowing through the lasagna like it was my last meal.

“Is everything okay, babe?”

I looked up at him. “Yeah. Why?”

“You seem extra hungry today.”

I gave him a smile, my cheeks bulging with food. “I just love your cooking.”

Yeah, my stomach was screaming in pain. Yes, I was quickly approaching nausea. But somehow, my brain registered the throbs as… a good pain. The pain was part of my excitement, part of my surprise for Phil.

And the way he looked at me told me that he was definitely into it.

***

For the next two weeks, I lost myself in gluttony. I ate bigger portions at every meal. I snuck away for twice-daily trips to McDonalds. I sucked down gainer shakes until I got woozy. And I still lifted weights at the gym. A lot.

Two things happened during those first weeks that confirmed I was on the right track.

One: Phil loved what I was doing. Even though I hid most of my actions from him, he knew that I was up to something. He saw my constantly bloated stomach and sluggish pace. He heard me burp at the dinner and ask for seconds. (He’d even started cooking bigger portions just to keep up.) I loved the curious smile he gave me. I loved the way he rubbed my stomach when we were in bed. He never said anything about it (I didn’t want him to), but he approved of what I was doing to myself.

And two: I was having so much fun. The freedom to eat, coupled with the struggle to keep going… It felt amazing. The constant pain in my stomach was a pure joy. I felt proud when I pushed myself harder than the day before. I was growing for Phil, but with each passing day, I became more certain that I was growing for myself, too.

There was one problem in my plan, though. I wanted to surprise Phil on his birthday, but how could I surprise him with a fatter body if he could see my stomach expanding a little more each day?

I decided, about a week into my gaining, that it couldn’t be an out-and-out surprise. He already saw what I was doing to myself. Instead, it would be a confession. We’d celebrate his birthday with friends, and when it was just the two of us, I’d strip for him and tell him to his face that I was getting fat for him. I’d say the words out loud. That would be my present.

But to heighten the moment, I needed to hide my body as much as possible. I bought looser clothes and started growing out my beard to mask the double chin that was already starting to form. I’d keep my shirt on when we made love. That way, he couldn’t see the extent of how much I was changing for him until the big day.

He could feel it, of course. He kept touching my belly when we were in bed together. I couldn’t stop him from doing that, nor would I want to. But if I played my cards right, I’d keep the totality of my changes hidden.

By the third week of my plan (when my daily shake consumption increased to three or four), I weighed myself. I was up 21 pounds and couldn’t be prouder. I used the gym scale just to make sure it was accurate.

“What’s up?” Phil asked. He’d seen me step off the scale.

“Nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I wrapped my thick arm around his shoulder and guided him back to the treadmill. He still had more running to do, and I wanted to hit the bench press again.

He wanted to say something. (Probably ask about my weight.) But he stopped himself. I was glad he did.

***

On the morning of his birthday, I woke up early to surprise him with pancakes. While he was still asleep, I went into the bathroom, stripped down, and took one final look at myself.

Perfect. Big, bulging, and perfect.

My arms and chest with thick with muscle, but my belly was pure fat. I had two matching stretchmarks, one on each side, that looked angry-red and beautiful. I wobbled my gut, feeling how wonderfully soft it was compared to my solid arms. The last two months had left fat and muscle fighting to take over, and I could honestly say that it was a draw. Despite a tiny bit of nipple puffiness, my muscles were winning in the chest area. And my fat, of course, was winning everywhere else.

I twisted my body to see how much my ass had expanded, but I couldn’t get a good look. Definitely bigger, but it was hard to tell if my cheeks were perfectly rounded, or if the sag was starting to set in.

Honestly, I preferred the latter. I wanted sag. I wanted softness. I wanted to be the undeniably fat guy that Phil secretly longed for.

But the muscle was nice, too. It gave me a base to build on.

227. That’s what the gym scale said yesterday. Considering the two dinners from last night, and the three (!) shakes right before bed, it might be more than that. Whatever. I looked great, and that was what mattered.

I pulled on my baggiest shirt and headed into the kitchen to make our breakfast.

When Phil finally woke up, I surprised him with three pancakes in bed. He ate one and a half and gave me the rest. (I’d already eaten six while he was still asleep.) As I sat next to him, rubbing his hair and asking about our party plans, I caught him glancing down at my stomach again.

I sucked in a little, to hide the surprise.

***

I was a nervous wreck throughout his party. We had it at our house, just a chill hang-out with pop music in the background and lots of wine for our friends.

The problem was that I hadn’t seen any of them in weeks, and I was terrified that they’d call me out on my weight gain and ruin the surprise. I walked around with my gut sucked in and my chest puffed out, which didn’t help a lot. I was still obviously fat.

Every time I answered the door, our guests glanced at my new body. Some of the looks were judgmental. Most were surprised. One guy complimented my new beard. Another said he liked “my burly look.” Other than that, they kept their opinions to themselves.

Thank God.

And then Nadine walked in. She was so late that I thought she was going to be a no-show again. (She had her own birthday celebration scheduled for the weekend.) I gulped when I answered the door.

She took one look at me and burst out laughing. I glanced behind me to see if anyone noticed. Phil was in the middle of a story, so no one was looking.

Nadine stepped closer and whispered in my ear. “Looking good, big guy. I'm sure he loves it.” Then she patted my ass and entered the house.

The rest of the night seemed to go well. Everyone was drunk and happy. Phil loved all his presents. I never lost my anxiousness, but I allowed myself to relax and have a good time.

Toward the end of the night, Nadine said, “Slow down. Save some for the rest of us.”

Everyone looked at me.

I had a chip slathered in guacamole inches from my mouth. I hadn’t realized I’d been eating so much, but I totally had. The chip bowl was almost empty. I took one last bite and pushed the bowl away.

There was awkward silence for a bit, and then Phil changed the subject.

Once everyone finally left, Phil started to clean up. I stopped him with a kiss and asked if he had a good time.

“Wonderful,” he said.

The time had finally arrived. I stepped back. “Can I give you your present now?”

“You already did.” (I’d gotten him concert tickets for next week.)

“Your bigger present,” I said.

He bit his lip. “Go ahead.”

My heart pounded. I’d practiced what I was going to say so many times, but my mind was blanking. “Um, I know you’ve noticed, but I’ve sorta… changed my routine in the last couple months.”

“Uh huh,” he said, signaling that he knew what I was going to say.

“Phil, I’ve been working really, really hard to grow for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I want you to see the body I’m building. Close your eyes.”

He did. He was still biting his lip.

I pulled off my shirt, letting my belly flop out. Then I took off my pants and underwear. In seconds, I was naked in front of him, my officially-obese body standing proud. Every new inch of me was a triumph. I spread my arms out and told him to open his eyes.

He saw me and gasped. His face went pale. He stepped toward me like I was a piece of art at a museum. He walked around me. And when he was done witnessing all my new fat, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. I could feel his erection through his pants, warm and hard against my bare thigh.

“You’ve been doing this… for me?”

“Well, yeah. I had a feeling you’d like it.”

He touched my wide pecs. “I love it. You’re gonna look so hot!” (Gonna?) “I loved you before, but I’ve always had a thing for big, bearded, muscular guys.” He stepped back, his smile flattening when he noticed my stretchmarks. “So when are you going to start cutting?”

“I…”

“God, you’re gonna be amazing. I can’t tell you how turned on I get whenever I see you at the gym. You’re right. You worked really hard for this.” He patted my pecs, not my belly.

And that’s when I knew. Nadine lied to me. Phil didn’t want me fat. He wanted me muscular.

“But… my belly…”

“I know,” he said supportively. “Don’t get discouraged, though. You’ll lose it before you know it. And then you’ll be the hottest guy in the world.”

“But when you’re in bed together… You touch my belly. You…”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything. I guess that was just my way of, I don’t know, making sure you knew it was there. I know how much you’re eating now. Don’t think I can’t smell the fast food on your breath. To be honest, I’ve been a bit worried that you’re taking this bulk too far, but seeing these…” He squeezed my biceps. “Tells me that you know exactly what you’re doing.”

I was speechless.

“So when are you cutting? Let me know and I can help with your meal plan.”

“Tomorrow,” I mumbled, my heart broken.

He grabbed my arm and led me toward the bedroom. “In the meantime, let’s enjoy my present. We can look past all of this…” He patted my gut, the first time he touched it since I’d undressed myself. “And focus on how big and strong you are!”

When we made it to the bed, he was rock-hard. I wasn’t.

***

Phil was already in the kitchen when I woke up the next morning. He’d already printed out meal plans that he’d found on the internet.

I trudged in and forced a smile.

“There’s my buff guy. You were amazing last night.”

“You too,” I muttered. (He seemed to enjoy himself. I guess I did, too. Though the whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d messed up.)

The truth was, I wanted to keep getting fatter. I wanted it more than anything. But I’d started on this journey because of Phil, and he wanted something very different. After he’d fallen asleep, I spent the rest of the night lying awake, thinking about what I should do.

And now, I had my answer. I was going to cut. I was going to get the body that he wanted. I couldn’t disappoint him.

“Okay,” he said, fanning out the papers on the counter. “We have a couple options here.” He spent the next twenty minutes explaining his plans. At the gym, I’d slowly reintroduce cardio. I’d restrict myself to mostly rice and chicken. I’d cut out all snacking except for tasteless rice cakes. (I hated those so much.)

He showed me a couple options that were less aggressive, but he clearly wanted to speed up my weight loss. He wanted my belly gone as fast as possible.

And I gave in. I agreed to everything he said. He couldn’t see that my heart was breaking.

Once everything was finalized, we went to the grocery store and stocked up on all the foods I hated.

***

Phil was sitting on my lap (something he’d been doing a lot more lately). He squeezed my lower belly. “Feel that? You’re really firming up.”

“Thanks,” I said. While my shrinking belly disappointed me to no end, I loved the lustful looks that Phil kept giving me. I knew that I was driving him wild.

I’d suffered through two months of cutting, and I’d lost almost all my softness. All that was left were bulging muscles and the last remnants of a lower-belly roll.

“What’s wrong?” Phil noticed my sad expression. “Don’t be hard on yourself. You’re practically perfect already. Just a little more work and…”

“Stop!” I said.

He didn’t get it. I wasn’t upset with my last bit of fat. I was mourning its eventual disappearance. I didn’t want abs!

Phil slid off me. I’d never shouted at him like that before.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just… I’m happy that you’re so turned on by all this.” I gestured toward my ample (almost too big) pecs. “But why do you like it so much?”

The question surprised him. “I’ve always been turned on by bigness. Well, not big, per se. I like a man who’s strong. Powerful. I guess it comes from when I was a kid, watching those old Superman movies over and over. Picturing a guy swoop in and save me. I don’t know. Doesn’t everyone want that?”

“I guess.”

He smiled. “And I kinda like how you’re so much stronger than me now.”

That was true. In the months when he helped me get lean, he’d seriously been ignoring his own body. For most of our relationship, we had pretty similar body types. Both very athletic. We even used to share clothes. But now, he barely did anything at the gym besides stand by my side and motivate me. His arms and thigh muscles had visible shrunk in a very short time.

Perhaps that was intentional.

“Why are you asking? Do you think I’m getting too skinny now?”

“No! Not at all.” I loved him at any size. This was about how my body was changing, not his.

“Then… what’s wrong?” He paused, looked me deep in the eye. And finally, he’d asked me the question that I’d been waiting for him to say. “What turns you on?”

I ran my hand down my mostly flat stomach. “Honestly? I kinda like… fat.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“But I’m happy like this. Really! I want to be the big musclehead that you’ve always wanted.” I hated myself for finally admitting my feelings and then backtracking so quickly. If I really were as strong and tough as he thought, then I’d at least have the courage to tell him the truth and stick with it.

“Okay. Good.” He tweaked my nipple. “Then we’ll stay on course.”

Dammit. I had my opportunity, and I’d fucked it up.

But that was okay. I was fat for a little while, and I’ll always treasure that.

***

“Happy birthday!” Phil said when I walked in the door. He had a big cake in his arms. Chocolate frosting. Probably low-calorie.

My party wasn’t until the weekend, but I knew he was going to do something.

I leaned over the cake to kiss him and then we went to the living room. I sat next to him on the couch, but he pulled away again.

He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Outside of blowjobs, we hadn’t been physical in weeks. He avoided me whenever I tried to touch him. He acted like the same doting boyfriend, but I was starting to get the feeling that he wasn’t turned on by me anymore.

It sucked. He was the reason I looked like this. I was obscenely ripped (just pure, hulking muscle) because of him. And now he wasn’t interested anymore?

He taught me to appreciate my new veininess. He helped me grow my traps and delts so much that now my head looked small in comparison. He was the reason I lumbered when I walked. I was so freaking thick that I couldn’t even stick my arms straight up anymore. I’d lost a lot of flexibility in exchange for strength.

I sorta liked it, though. If I couldn’t be fat, I liked that I was noticeably, attention-grabbingly big in a different way. But if he thought I’d gone too far, then why did he keep pushing and pushing me at the gym? And why was he so kind and loving otherwise?

“Are you ready for your present?” he asked, pretending that he didn’t just recoil when I got too close.

“Sure,” I said.

He took a deep breath and stood up. “You’ve probably noticed, but I’ve been working really hard to give you what you asked for all those months ago.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“It was so hard to keep my distance,” he continued. “You’re the most beautiful man in the world. I mean, my God. But… I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” He seemed adorably nervous. Slowly, he grabbed his baggy shirt and pulled it over his head.

My mouth dropped open.

“You said you wanted me fat, so here I am!”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed this earlier. His gut was huge. Pure softness hanging over his waistband. He had love handles. His moobs were perky and pointed to each side. And talk about stretchmarks! There was a dozen of them racing straight up his gut like zebra stripes.

“You… got fat for me?”

“Surprise!”

This was not what I wanted. He’d misinterpreted me completely.

But now that I saw him, all my blood rushed to my dick. He was gorgeous. And based on those stretchmarks (and the fact that he’d kept everything hidden), he must’ve gained all this very, very fast. I couldn’t imagine the amount of work he put into it. All the secret meals. All the gainer shakes.

I jumped to my feet and raced toward him. My hands went straight to his belly, feeling how much softer he was than I had ever been. I squeezed into his overhang and kissed him. “How did you hide all this from me?”

“Loose clothes. Keeping my distance. A naturally thin face. And lots of compression shirts. Thank God I don’t have to wear those anymore.”

I glided my fingers up his stretchies. They were really deep.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes,” I shouted. (I didn’t know I wanted this, but seeing him, feeling him, was all it took to win me over.)

“I’m so happy you said that. When you mentioned that you wanted me to get fat, I thought it was crazy. But the more I gained, the more I liked it. You probably don’t understand that.”

“I think I do.”

He pulled my hand to his soft chest. He wanted me to feel it. “I guess this is what I’ve always wanted. To be a soft, flabby boy with a strong, hard man to take care of me. Thank you. If you hadn’t admitted how you felt, I never would’ve realized that.”

I took him back to the couch so we could explore each other’s bodies even more.

Sitting next to him, feeling him squish against my hardness, I knew that this was how we were meant to be. It all started with his jealous sister trying to sabotage our relationship with a cruel joke, and it had continued with more misunderstandings than I could count, but we were stronger than ever now. Two big guys ready to get bigger in very different ways.

“You ready for the second half of your present?” Phil asked. He glanced at the cake.

“You’re going to eat that for me?” I asked, salivating.

“No. You’re going to feed it to me.”

The End

Thanks for reading! I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope the two characters' gaining journeys surprised you. You can find a list of all my stories here. And if you liked this one, check out my first story, Alex Gets Soft. Similar vibes.

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