Every time you reblog this post, 10lbs will go straight to your waistline.

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@5xlwriter
Every time you reblog this post, 10lbs will go straight to your waistline.
Weight gain shakes are so hot because theyāre so indefensible. Like the only reason you would ever drink a 1000+ calorie shake every day is to get as fat as possible as fast as possible.
The large meal portions and frequent servings can be justified by liking food. The amount of fatty food you eat is just because you like it. Drinking soda all the time is pretty common. All these things are blowing up you waistline but theyāre still inside the realm of normal behavior.
You drink weight gain shakes because you are so addicted to getting fat that you have to speed up the process. Youāre so horny all the time that you need a way to get fatter faster. You drink these because youāre already fucking huge but you have to get bigger!
Christmas Pyjamas
A one-off for Christmas, based on a kinky dream I had over the holidays⦠A little late, but Iāve been busy stuffing my face! Happy new year.
I was dreading returning home for Christmas.
My family and I were all very close, and of course a big part of me was excited to see them. Now that we were all grown ups, we had sort of been scattered across the country; my sister moved down South for uni, Iād moved North for work, and my brother had stayed reasonably close to home where he was busy managing a gym. Christmas was the one time a year where we all got together.
And yet, another part of me wanted to flake on the whole thing. I could call up my mom and tell her I wasnāt feeling well - something nasty that I really didnāt want to pass on. My boyfriend and I had been dating each other for about a year and a half, and we still spent Christmas separately with our own families - but maybe I could secretly join him at his folksā and nobody back home would be any the wiser? Anything to avoid the inevitableā¦
My problem - the thing that made me want to curl up under a duvet and wait for Christmas to blow over - was that my boyfriend was a feeder, and in the time weād spent together Iād put on a bit of weight. It wasnāt a problem for me per se (on the contrary, I loved how it drove Dean wild) but I still wasnāt comfortable enough to face my family with my added pounds. Especially after last year.
The thing is, my family has had this tradition since we were young in which we all wear matching Christmas pyjamas on Christmas Eve. Itās kind of corny, but my folks loved it and it just sort of became something we do. Once weād all stopped growing, they splurged on some really fancy pyjamas that weāve been using for the last five years or so - super comfy red pyjamas with white Christmas trees all over. But last year, after six months of being stuffed by Dean, everyone in the family had commented on how my pyjamas were looking a little snug. Iād put on another 25lbs since then and was now hovering just under 200lbs, the heaviest Iād ever been - though Dean made it clear he wanted me much bigger than that. Iād always been thin with a supercharged metabolism, so my gains were frustratingly slow for him at times, but I was secretly pleased he couldnāt blow me up overnight. It allowed me to feel more in control and I could still work all this off if I wanted.
But the question remained the only thing on my mind as I drove down the motorway, my car loaded with presents. Just how on earth was I going to squeeze into those pyjamas without causing a scene? I really couldnāt stand the thought of their playful digs or my brother poking me in my belly like last year.
I sighed. It was too late to turn the car around. I just had to get through it.
When I arrived at the house, everyone else was already there and we were all pleased to see each other. Nobody commented on my gains, but I put that down to the strategic layering of my clothes that Iād hoped would conceal the added pounds. It seemed to do the trick.
We spent an hour or so settling in, me and my siblings taking our bags to our rooms and putting our presents under the tree ready for the big day. Usually, our Christmas pyjamas were laid out on our beds, but this year I was elated to see they were nowhere to be seen⦠I was instantly more relaxed, assuming we had ditched the tradition, and by the time we all gathered on the comfy sofas in the living room with glasses of eggnog, I was feeling positively festive.
āDonāt get too comfy!ā mom said as he entered the room with arms full of presents, which she dutifully handed out to each of us, keeping one for herself as she perched on an armchair. āWe canāt forget the Christmas pyjamas!ā
āNew pyjamas?ā asked my sister, curiously raising an eyebrow.
āWell yes,ā said mom. āWeāve had the old ones for a few years now so I thought it was time for a change!ā
āWe only wore them a few times!ā laughed my sister, but it wasnāt unusual for our mother to be unusually fussy like this.
āYes but some of us had outgrown the last pair, hadnāt we Taylor?ā smirked my dad mischievously, to which my brother laughed loudly. They didnāt mean any harm, but it still cut.
āLeave him be!ā scolded my mother, before quickly adding, āThough, Taylor dear, I did get you a size up based on last yearā¦ā she glanced down at the paunch in my lap. āIām sure theyāll fit!ā
She didnāt sound convinced.
My brother was the first to open his, revealing our new theme: the pyjamas were deep green, the colour of Christmas trees, with a cute Christmas pudding pattern all over. He swiftly dove into the downstairs bathroom to change and re-emerged wearing the new pyjamas, which fit his athletic build perfectly. My sister soon followed, her pyjamas looked like they had been tailored specifically for her narrow waist. Soon enough, everyone was wearing their pyjamas but me.
Iād been in a daze, staring at the unopened pyjamas on my lap, still wrapped in red and gold wrapping.
Please fit. Please fit. Please fit.
I said it over and over in my mind. If they were only a size up from last year, Iād surely be in the same predicament. Theyād hug my belly in the most unflattering way and my thighs would look like overstuffed sausages.
Please fit. Please fit. Please fit.
I needed a Christmas miracle at this point. I scrunched tight my eyes and willed it with all my being.
I wish these pyjamas fit me perfectly!
I wish these pyjamas fit me perfectly!
I wish! I wish! I wish!
Instantly, the room seemed to spin like I was on a fairground ride. I felt my brain sloshing around in my skull and a sense of vertigo, before it all stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. Weird.
āWhatās wrong Tay?ā said my sister. āArenāt you feeling well?ā
I opened my eyes, half forgetting I had been in a room full of people (who were now looking at me curiously). I blushed a little.
āSorry, just felt a bit dizzy for a second,ā I said. āBut Iām fine.ā
āWell, open your pyjamas dear,ā said mom. āYouāll feel better when youāre all cosy.ā The rest of my well-meaning family chimed in with how comfortable the pyjamas were and the mood was all very encouraging. Feeling emboldened, I gently tore off the wrapping on the pyjamas and unfolded the top half of the set.
It was positively huge. I held it up before me and it looked more like a blanket than any sort of garment. My dad and brother roared into laughter while my sister scolded my mother for her cruel joke.
āI didnāt mean to order that!ā she pleaded, and I believed her. This kind of cruelty wasnāt in her nature. I checked the size tag - it was a 5XL. I reasoned that as there were 5 of us, she probably got muddled up and chose the wrong option. That kind of computer illiteracy was definitely more believable for her. āOh darling, Iām so sorry. That will never fit you.ā she pouted.
āItās fine, mom, donāt worry,ā I said. I was relieved to have an excuse not to wear the pyjamas and tried my best to reassure her that this was totally fine. I didnāt want her feeling bad. I pulled out the giant bottom half and we all had a good laugh about how big they were, even mom giggled along.
āYou could fit all three of you in there!ā laughed by dad at the size of the huge waistband. He was right.
āGo on Tay,ā urged my sister. āGo and put them on for mom and weāll all take a picture!ā
Everyone laughed, and I decided to oblige them. I slipped off to the bathroom and took off the clothes Iād come in. There was no mirror, but I looked down and inspected my body, clad only in underwear. I wasnāt even that fat, really. I had a soft little paunch and a rounder face than I used to, but in clothes that fit me people probably couldnāt even tell Iād gained over 50lbs. I had always been skinny and now I was just on the softer side of average, right? No, Iād clearly blown this way out of proportion. It was time to stop being so self conscious and just enjoy Christmas with my family. Besides, if Dean got his way, theyād have to get used to me being a bit bigger each year, and Iād have to get used to the comments and prods too.
I held up the enormous pyjama trousers and laughed again. Dean would love it if I fit into these, but I could never go that far. I didnāt have the heart to tell him that I thought about 250lbs would probably be my limit. Weād cross that bridge when we got to itā¦
I slipped my leg into the trousers, followed by the other, and pulled them up to my waist. As I did so, I felt another wave as dizziness like the one that had come over me earlier. This one was much more severe, and I had to hold onto the sink basis for fear I might collapse. My head spun wildly and my whole body felt strange and heavy, like gravity had a hold of me and was pulling me more strongly than ever before. Finally, it subsided.
āEverything ok in there, darling?ā called my mother from outside the door.
āYes, coming!ā I called back, quickly pulling the top on too. Except⦠it wasnāt that quick. I struggled into the large garment, writhing around and trying to slide it over my body - I kept bumping into things in the bathroom and even knocked the bottle of hand soap onto the floor. Once Iād gotten the tent-like shirt on, I tried to bend over and pick up the soap but I found I⦠couldnāt. I stretched and reached as far as I could but my body physically wouldnāt bend far enough and I found myself struggling for breath. It was like there was something in my way, obstructing my movement. I must have been getting ill after all - my karmic retribution for planning to feign being sick to get out of Christmas! Just my luck.
āDonāt worry if youāve knocked things off again dear, I know the room is a bit of squeeze for you, Iāll sort it later,ā my mom called through the door. āLet us see you in your PJs!ā
A squeeze for me? What was she talking about? It was a small bathroom, sure, but not that small⦠Iād never knocked things over in there before. I opened the door with a big grin on my face, waiting for my mom to burst out laughing when she saw me in the huge clothes.
āOh darling,ā she beamed, and neatened up my hair before pulling at the hem of the pyjama shirt too. āThey fit perfectly! Oh, Iām so pleased, it can be so hard to find things in your size.ā She really truly looked relieved and hurried back into the living room. āCome and show everyone!ā
Confused, I followed her back through into the other room, my confusion only growing each step. Nothing felt as it should⦠My footsteps were so heavy, and my body was moving in ways that Iād never experienced before. And I was so out of breath! Just the short journey to the room next door had me gasping for air as I plopped down on the big armchair, which creaked loudly underneath me. What was going on?
āHey, those look great bro,ā said my brother.
āYeah the fit is perfect!ā said my sister. āWell done mom!ā
My mind was cloudy. Something was wrong with me, everyone was acting weird. And I was definitely unwell - I had this unsettled feeling in my stomach now that made me feel nauseous.
āTime for the family photo!ā said mom, and everyone gathered around me in the armchair. Even that was weird - usually weād all stand in front of the tree. My sister was in charge of taking the group selfie, and as she held up her phone, I let out an almighty scream that caused everyone to leap up.
On the phone screen I had seen all my family, gathered around possibly the fattest man I had ever seen. He was wearing green pyjamas decorated with Christmas puddings. I was nowhere to be seen in the image - but the fat stranger had the same dark hair and eyes as me, and sat in the same chair⦠Thatās when I realised - he was me!
I tried to hurry over to the mirror, but I couldnāt get out of the chair. The whole time, I was yelling and panicked. My brother and dad worked together to pull me up and I waddled as fast as my fat legs would carry me, huffing and puffing until I got to the full length mirror in the hallway. I screamed again.
āHoly shit! What happened to me?!ā I grabbed the huge belly that was tucked into my giant trousers and pulled it free, sloshing it around like a big wobbling jelly. I had big sagging tits that pushed out against the top in rounded mounds, wrapping around to gather under my arms in a thick roll, and my face was buried in chubby cheeks and several thick chins. āIām fucking enormous!ā I yelled in panic, shaking my belly again for effect.
My family all looked at each other, their faces painted with worry, and my mom rushed over to put her arm around my wide shoulders. āDonāt be silly, darling,ā she cooed reassuringly. āYou look lovely in your pyjamas.ā
I wanted to scream at her, make her see how wrong all this was - make them all see that they were the ones acting crazy, not me! But that feeling in my stomach was growing stronger, and I felt it build until I was sure I was about to vomit right there in the hallway.
But instead, my stomach let out an almighty rumble. I wasnāt ill⦠I was hungry!
āOh you must be starving after that long journey,ā mom said. āTime to eat! Youāll be feeling right again in no time.ā
Everyone cheered at that and seemed to scatter, doing their best to resume business as usual. My sister quietly approached me and gave me a big hug, wrapping her arms around my enormous body as much as she could. āDonāt be so hard on yourself Tay. You look very handsome and Dean loves you a lot.ā
What the fuck was going on? I again wanted to scream the house down until someone took notice of me, but⦠I couldnāt deny I was hungry, and the thought of food was enough to quieten my nerves. I settled back on the armchair and decided to address this after our meal.
The traditional Christmas Eve meal in our house was a decadent cheeseboard. But this year - weād had two. One for the family, and one for me. It was loaded with Stilton, Brie, garlic roulĆ©, and many other indulgences. I had a whole box of crackers and a spread of charcuterie, plus a jar of pate and a stick of bread upon which to spread it. I had barely needed to lift a finger during the meal, my mom making it her duty to prepare crackers loaded with cheese for me while pecking at the family spread. I donāt know how I did it, but I polished off the whole board⦠and then once my family were finished, I made their leftovers disappear too.
Perhaps it was the feeling of being full, or the fact everyone was being so kind to me, or maybe it was the amount of booze in the eggnog Iād chugged between mouthfuls of cheese, but my worries about suddenly being so huge had largely subsided. In fact, as I rubbed my belly while it digested, I felt incredibly content. Is this what being fat felt like when you didnāt have to worry about what other people thought?
We had a blissful evening watching TV and laughing, and people would occasionally bring me a mince pie or some other sweet treat to snack on. When it got late, I said my goodnights and heaved myself up to bed, my stomping footsteps shaking the floorboards as I lumbered along the landing to my room.
My room had an en suite, and I squeezed through the doorframe to relief myself before bed. It was a mammoth task reaching under the apron of fat that was now my belly to find my dick. Eventually, after much manoeuvring, I managed to find it and aim as best I could at the toilet bowl, but now something else was making it challenging⦠I was getting hard.
Iād never been totally into the idea of getting fat, my gains thus far had all been driven by how much Dean enjoyed it. The softer I got, the better our sex was - so I was happy to go along with it. But now, squeezed into this tiny bathroom and struggling even to piss as my rolls pressed against the sink on one side and the shower door on the other, I was insanely turned on. With great difficulty, I satisfied myself and spent some time cleaning the sticky mess off the underside of my wobbling gut. The whole time, I thought about Dean and what heād think when he came over tomorrow evening. Would this be too much for him? Would he even recognise me? Or would be similarly bewitched and assume this was how Iād always been?
I didnāt know how whatever magic had caused this worked. My family clearly noticed nothing strange about me suddenly looking like a whale, and the longer I was around them the more it felt natural for me too - like Iād always been this way. Of course, I knew I hadnāt⦠but it was easy to go along with the flow. And fuck, it felt goodā¦
As I dropped myself onto the bed, which groaned in protest under my massive body, I looked at a family photo on the bedside table. It was from a couple of years ago when weād all taken a family holiday, an image of us all soaking up the sun by the pool. Everyone looked much the same as they did now - my brother had grown a beard since then, and my sister had dyed her hair⦠But there I was in the image, my fat arse sprawled over two sunbeds and my plump tits on full display. Everyone was smiling and happy. I drifted off to sleep.
***
Christmas Day had been a dream. I had been strangely nervous that I would wake up to realise none of the previous night was real, but instead I found myself pinned to the bed by my own lard, my fat face still staring back at me from the photograph on the nightstand. Getting out of bed had been so difficult and erotic that I had to sort myself out in the shower - even the process of washing my rolls and folds was difficult until I noticed the shower was now equipped with a sponge on a long stick, for all my hard to reach areas. Once I was dry, I checked my luggage and found something strange: all my clothes were still larges. I donāt know why, but I had assumed everything would have āscaled upā in this new version of reality. But sure enough, everything Iād brought with me would still have fit my old body. The magic was clearly inconsistent. Maybe it only affected things and people inside the house? My dick twitched at the thought of Dean seeing me like this for the first time. Part of me hoped he would be under the spell and my blown up body would be totally normal for him⦠it would certainly save having to explain any of this. Where would I even begin? But another part, the horny part of my brain that had been activated by this transformation⦠I was desperate to see the look on his face when he laid eyes upon me, easily 300lbs (maybe 400lbs?) heavier than I was yesterday. I waited for my hardness to ease and then put on my pyjamas again before heading back downstairs.
Iād been served a huge breakfast of sausages, bacon and smoked salmon on muffins. Weād opened our presents - most of mine were huge boxes of chocolates, generous vouchers to fast food joints, or enormous clothes (which was a relief, as now I could change for dinner). Dinner continued in much the same way, I got through three full plates of Christmas dinner in the time it took everyone else to finish just one smaller portion. And it was all completely natural, nobody batted an eyelid or passed even the slightest comment. They were happy that I was happy
As the day drew closer to its end, we once again found ourselves back in the living room where all this madness had begun yesterday. I donāt recall a time I ever felt more at peace. Everything in my world felt just right. I didnāt usually like change, and wondered how my life would be different when I returned to it. How would Dean react, if at all? What about my coworkers, friends? This was all so enjoyable because there was no resistance⦠But what would I do if once I left home, everyone was shocked by the fat pig Iād become over the holidays? How would I handle their surprised comments? How would I explain any of this? How would I adjust to life as a superchub once the novelty had worn off? But for now, there was no worry⦠I bit into a thick slice of chocolate Yule log drenched in heavy cream and was completely content.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
āThatāll be Dean,ā I said, electricity coursing through my body. Iād never felt this excited and apprehensive in my life. My mother made for the door before I stopped her. āNo no,ā I said. āIāll get it.ā I had been fantasising about this moment and I felt my cock twitch, fortunately buried deep under my gut.
She tried to protest that I didnāt need to, that I should stay comfy, but I explained I wanted to greet him and she acquiesced. My brother and father heaved me out of the chair, and I waddled over to the front door, my fat thighs rubbing against each other until I stopped at the door, panting lightly. I adjusted the collar of my shirt slightly and wiped some cream from the corner of my mouth, before opening the door and letting Dean in.
āMerry Christmas, babe.ā
Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Model
Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddogās Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. I see this as a double response to the prompts Runway Ready and Wardrobe Woe.
āThanks for your time, Brett,ā I said, feigning a smile as I looked up from my clipboard. āWeāll call you!ā
The muscle-bound hunk nodded cockily and pulled back on his stringy gymrat vest, giving us one last glimpse at his abs in the process before turning and leaving the audition room. His firm glutes shifted in his shorts as he vanished through the doors. I sighed.
Of course, there was no denying that Brett was absolutely gorgeous. He knew it, I knew it, anyone who saw him knew it. And while I might be tempted to call him up for a hookup, there was no way he was getting a callback for this show. He just didnāt have the right look.
The designer, Cherish MisĆØre, was dark, edgy and honestly, kinda goth. Thereās a lot that can be achieved with makeup and styling, of course, but nobodyās going to buy that with a jock like Brett. We were looking for skinny guys, with longer slender limbs and angled faces that we could make gaunt with contouring. Brett just didnāt fit the bill - and neither did many of the other hopefuls Iād seen that day. Ugh, Cherish was gonna kill me.
I huffed another deep sigh as I flipped the page on my clipboard, and then was stopped in my tracks at the photo attached to the next profile. That curly brown hair, those sharp, boyish features, those dark, arresting eyes⦠Tristan!
What a godsend! Tristan was absolutely perfect for the show. Cherish would eat him up, and all the clothes would fit like they were made for him. He and I had been students together. Weād studied Media & Communications and had gotten along well, but drifted in the couple of years since we graduated. Heād always modelled to raise funds when we were at uni, seeming to never need to hold down a real job as a result - but the last I heard, he was now skyrocketing up the corporate ladder, while I was sat here auditioning himbos for D-rate shows at the Fashion Week Fringe. Itās the sort of thing that would usually fill me with so much embarrassment that Iād find an escape route - we gays always compare ourselves to our peers - but in this instance, I didnāt care. I was just glad to finally have found some actual talent! The day was not a complete waste after all.
āBring in the next one,ā I called to my assistant and tried to make myself look as relaxed as possible. I was going to feign surprise, like Iād been caught off-guard. I needed to look busy and important. I sat up straight, eyes fixed on my clipboard until I heard someone shuffle in front of me.
āHey, Rick!ā He announced. His voice was just as I remembered it, but⦠maybe a touch deeper?
I looked up, ready to burst into a big smile and announce what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again. But then, I really was caught off-guard. My thoughts ground to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause as my brain scrambled to register what was going on.
My assistant intervened. āUm, Rick, this isā¦ā
āāTristan!ā I interjected, finally managing the smile Iād been preparing, though Iām not sure how convincing it came off. āWhat a surprise!ā
The surprise was that Tristan was fat. OK, that was maybe a little dramatic - he wasnāt fat fat. But I guessed him to be at least 50 or 60lbs heavier than the 135lbs he listed on his modelling profile - which made him gay fat. I couldnāt believe it!
I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I was a little ashamed to admit that part of me loved seeing perfect Tristan let himself go like this. He had always been nothing but kind to me, so it was completely mean-spirited of me, but I couldnāt help being jealous of all his achievements. It was nice to finally have one up on him, having maintained my own figure - heck, maybe even improved it? - since graduating.
On the other hand, there was no way I could cast Tristan with him looking like this. I could tell just by looking at him that it would take a small miracle to squeeze him into anything Cherish made, which meant Iād just lost my star model just as quickly as I thought Iād found him.
That, I had to worry about later. For now I had to finish this encounter with my old friend, let him down without hurting his feelings, and maybe find out what had caused him to blow up. Maybe he was depressed?
He didnāt look depressed. He was smiling that famously enchanting smile of his, which now showed off the beginnings of a double chin. I made my way over to give him a hug.
āHeh, I thought you didnāt recognise me!ā He said as he wrapped his softer arms around me. He was squishy all over.
āOf course I recognise you,ā I said, trying to brush it off. āItās so good to see all of youā I mean, to see you, itās so good to see youā¦ā Fuck.
Tristan didnāt seem to notice - or if he did, then he didnāt seem to mind. I was happy with either. We pressed on with the pleasantries, Tristan telling me about his latest promotion whilst I did my best to make my own job sound interesting. In truth, it was great catching up with him⦠Tristan was just so charming, and even with his fuller figure he just exuded a confidence and charisma that was unlike anyone Iād ever met⦠perhaps even more so then I remembered? He was definitely flirty, and somehow I found myself flirting back despite him no longer being my type.
I wasnāt quite sure how it had happened⦠Maybe it was witchcraft. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was just that trademark smile that he kept flashing me, undampened by his rounder faceā¦
āI think youād be a great fit!ā I said, the words leaving my mouth without my permission. My brain protested but my lips kept moving. āWeāll see you Monday for the fittings, so we can get things taken in if we need to.ā What the fuck was I saying? What was I doing?
As Tristan left with his paperwork, I caught the confused look on my assistantās face and buried my head in my hands. Cherish was going to fucking kill me.
***
Monday came around fast. In that time, Iād managed to assemble a motley crew of gangly young men to model Cherishās collection. None of them had walked a runway in their lives, nor did they really have the face card needed for a career in modelling, but they were the best I could rustle up with Fashion Week on the horizon.
Weād started the morning with runway rehearsals and trying to get some charisma out of these boys was like getting blood from a stone. I was relieved that Tristan hadnāt shown up. I figured he had come to the realisation that he quite literally wasnāt a good fit for this, and had decided to silently slink away, saving me a difficult conversation. Now all we had to do was avoid each other for the rest of our lives!
But no, it was never going to be that easy. Tristan arrived late, commanding attention as soon as he entered the studio, smiling and greeting his fellow models as he finished off the remainder of a large smoked salmon bagel loaded with cream cheese. Now there was someone with charisma. He didnāt even try. Nor did he try to excuse his tardiness. āWe both know I donāt need practice at this!ā he laughed warmly when we had a quiet moment together.
And he was right. He stomped the runway like a pro, showing each of the confused wannabes how it was done. He was the elephant in the room; he didnāt belong; and yet, he was putting them all to shame. I watched bitterly as he walked back up the length of the runway, noticing the slight jiggle and bounce in his body with each deliberate step he made. Ugh, I was not looking forward to this conversationā¦
Later, as we prepared for the session with wardrobe, I pulled Tristan to one side.
āListen, Tristan, I need to talk with you,ā I said, trying to sound both relaxed and in control. āYou know I think youāre amazing, but I donāt think this is the right gig for youā¦ā
Tristan raised an eyebrow for a moment, not sure what to make of what Iād said, before he burst out laughing. āHa, yeah, good one Rick. Donāt worry, Iāll help the other guys get the hang of it. Itās not rocket science.ā
I frowned. āNo, Tristan, you donāt understandā¦ā Ugh! I hated this! āIām serious. I donāt think youāre the right⦠fitā¦ā I couldnāt stop myself from glancing at his round midsection when I said it - only for a fraction of a second, but Tristan was quick enough to catch it.
āOhā¦ā he said, looking down at his body for a moment. āYou think Iām too fat?ā He looked hurt. Iād never seen him not radiating charm and confidence, but in the moment all of that dissipated. He looked like a little lost puppy. āI know Iāve gained a few⦠Iāve been working flat out at the office⦠But I didnāt think it was that badā¦ā
āItās not!ā I blurted out in a panic, desperate to backtrack. āYou look great! Better than ever, actually. You look really healthy. Thatās super in right now!ā It was all lies, and I hated myself for it, but seeing that famous smile return to his face made it worth it.
And so Tristan was whisked off to wardrobe, where we tried to squeeze him into some of the pieces. I thought maybe, if we went with something layered, we could disguise his bulked up body and it might be OK. I was wrong.
Tristan was wearing a black ripped vest, designed to be tight even on a slender model, but practically painted onto him now and emphasising the ball of flesh at his waist. The fact it was ripped made him look like heād burst out of it. When he moved his arms too high, a little slither of soft flesh would peek out the bottom. He wore a big leather trench coat, down to the floor, which I figured would do a lot of the heavy lifting in making Tristan look presentable - except, we couldnāt fasten it shut over his middle. And on his bottom half, he just wore his underwear and socks, as absolutely nothing that Cherish had designed would slide over his newly thickened thighs and ass.
Fortunately, Tristan may have been oblivious to how much heād grown, but he wasnāt stupid. He knew this wasnāt going to work. Quietly, he wrestled himself out of the tight garments weād given him and began to change into his own clothes. I kept my distance and tried to focus on the other boys. Later, as Tristan was leaving, I followed him out.
āHey Tristan,ā I called. āWait up!ā He turned to face me, and was still smiling, but he looked tired and pensive.
āThanks for the opportunity, Rick! Sorry it didnāt work out.ā He said, before surprising me by tapping his softer middle. āGuess Iāve been neglecting the gym!ā
āDonāt worry about it, T,ā I said. āYou still look great and you can definitely work it off ā if you want to,ā I paused for a moment, hesitating as I decided whether to say what I was about to say. āOr⦠In the meantime, my friend runs this other companyā¦ā I handed him the card.
āMax Macdonald - Plus Size Agencyā, Tristan read off the card. He sounded unsure and I thought I might have offended him again, but eventually he pocketed the card. āThanks, Rick,ā he said, giving me a quick hug. āSee you around!ā
***
As it happened, I never did see Tristan again. It had been four years since our awkward encounter when I found myself in a bar, catching up with my old friend Max, who I also hadnāt seen in years. Being an adult sucked!
Max had been vocally admiring a large man at the bar, telling me in great detail why this strangerās corpulent body was so superior to the kind of talent I represented. (Iād learned my lesson and played to my strengths, now I had my own agency and was exclusively representing muscle-bound Greek Gods for high-profile names.)
None of it surprised me. Max had always been unashamedly into big guys, despite being in good shape himself. Iād seen him go through many boyfriends - usually they were varying degrees of fat, but sometimes there was a twink or two. Theyād soon start to bulk up around him and usually this was when they wised up to his feeder ways and dumped him. He didnāt seem to care, and I always loved that about him. I definitely didnāt share his tastes, but I respected his unabashed commitment to them all the same.
And it seemed to be working out for him! After all, it was his love of big men that had led him to start the plus size agency that was now getting him contracts all over the world.
āOh my god!ā Max said, nearly spitting out his beer as a memory seemed to hit him like a truck. āI canāt believe I didnāt tell you!ā He was laughing hysterically and I pressed him urgently for more details. Max was a great storyteller and I found myself eager to hear his tale.
āA few years ago, I was approached by this dude,ā he started. I nodded. āHe was young, super handsome and charismatic like no one else! He told me youād sent him.ā I paused, knowing instantly that he was talking about Tristan, though I didnāt let on. I wanted to see where this was going.
āHe said he was interested in some modelling with me. I told him, ālook man, youāre gorgeous and youāve got it, but youāre not exactly plus sizeāā¦ā He took another swig of his beer. āHe was like 200lbs at most. At most!ā
I laughed along. āHaha, yeah, sorry about that. I didnāt really know where else to send him. He was too fat for us, but clearly not fat enough for you!ā I took a sip of my drink, feeling a little bad for leading Tristan towards more rejection.
āNot then he wasnāt!ā laughed Max. I didnāt like the tone in his voice⦠it was⦠mischievous. He was relishing in this story. āBut I bumped into him a couple of years later at a chub event downtown. I didnāt recognise him at first but he came right over and introduced himself⦠all 350lbs of him!ā
āNo fucking way!ā My mouth dropped to the floor as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, trying to imagine how big a 350lb person would look⦠How big a 350lb Tristan would look! That more way more than twice the size heād been at uni.
āYes way, he was just in a jock strap and a leather harness, shaking and jiggling all over the dance floor. There was no hiding it. He wasnāt the fattest person there by a long shot - a couple of guys were almost twice as big as him - but everyone in the joint wanted to fuck him.ā He sat back and smiled smugly, looking very pleased with himself.
I gasped. āYou didnāt!ā
āI did!ā he said, a big grin on his face. āAnd it was great. Like really great. Man, I had to fucking work for it though. He asked if we could stop for something to eat on the way back to my place - and we did, three times!ā He clearly found the story hilarious. āI paid for the lot⦠Worth it though!ā
I was in shock, no longer finding it funny but trying my best to play along. I couldnāt believe that had happened. Maybe Max was just exaggerating. 350lbs? Surely notā¦
āSo, did you end up signing him?ā I asked.
āNah,ā said Max, looking a little solemn before finishing his drink. āWhen I woke up the next day, heād vanished without a trace and I never saw him againā¦ā
I was about to interject, to empathise for Max, and to tell him how shitty that was, but Max held up a hand to stop me. He wasnāt finished. That big grin had returned to his face and he fished his phone from his pocket.
āI never saw him again until last weekā¦ā he said, quickly navigating his home screen to pull up one of his fetish community apps. It didnāt phase me - like I said, Max had always been very open about this stuff.
āI was swiping through the other day when I saw this prize-winning pigā¦ā he was practically giggling as he showed me the phone screen. It was a video, captioned with just two words: āAlmost 500lbsā, with a pig nose emoji for emphasis. In the video, an absolutely enormous man was wearing a far too tight black half-zip sweater over a black t-shirt. He was standing close to the camera, with his head cut off by the frame. The strained clothes clung tightly to every curve, roll and fold on his fat frame: his giant tits threatened to burst out of the sweater (the zip of which would never fasten around his fat neck), while about 20cm of pure fat belly hung out the bottom, his gluttony on full view.
Why was Max showing me this? There was nothing to suggest this was Tristan. I became increasingly convinced that this was a practical joke. There was no way that someone who used to look like Tristan now looked like⦠this.
But then, the whale in the video took a few steps backwards as he jiggled his huge gut for the camera, and his fat face came into view. My world stopped for a moment: it was Tristan, no doubt about it.
Had I seen this veritable blob in the street, I would never have recognised him as my old friend. But I had been primed to see him, and see him I did: even though his sharp and boyish features were now buried under blubbery cheeks, there was no mistaking the charismatic allure of those eyes, which now seemed small and beady in his fat face. All the movement in his gut caused a loud burp to erupt from his mouth, and the smile that followed it as he looked upon his body with appreciation was unmistakably his. Even when being absolutely disgusting, something about Tristan was still so confident, so irresistible⦠he was magnetic.
āThese are the clothes I was wearing when we first met back up,ā he said to someone off screen, who chucked back. I recognised that laugh⦠āCan you believe that was only a year ago?ā
āNo,ā came the familiar voice, as two arms entered the frame and began to pull off Tristanās clothes, revealing his flabby body in all its perverted glory. The arms and voice belonged to someone older than Tristan by about 15 years. They were reasonably toned and thick with hair, and the strong-looking hands took big handfuls of Tristanās tits and flesh, shaking it and making his whole body wobble. Then the anonymous figure moved into the screen, kissing Tristan on his big, fat cheek.
I almost dropped Maxās phone and had to do a double take. Was that our fucking professor?! He looked a little older than I remembered him, which was natural, but I was sure it was him.
āā¦but youāre nearly 100lbs bigger since then, so thatās not surprising,ā he said seductively, bringing a cream filled bun up to Tristanās lips. His mouth opened dutifully and made short work of the pastry, which got swallowed down into his giant gut.
āAnd why do you think that is?ā huffed Tristan, rubbing his belly and stifling another burp. He looked so cocky and sure of himself⦠more than that, he looked like he was worshipping himself.
āBecause,ā said our old professor. āYouāre a spoiled piggy who gets whatever he wants.ā
Feedist Kinktober: Magic Mirror
Intended to be part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddogās Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts, but I loved the prompt and it became a much bigger story than I expected. The prompt was Magic Mirror.
I had mixed feelings about Theo moving in with me. Weād met several years ago through a friend of a friend, and he and his boyfriend Luca were invited to a lot of the same parties as me. I never really clicked with Luca⦠He was incredibly good looking and obsessively sculpted his body at the gym, giving him the look of an Adonis. But he knew he was gorgeous and used it as an excuse to treat people poorly.
Theo was different. He was smart, funny and exceptionally kind. For the most part, I was super excited for the memories weād make together, and it would be great to save some money by splitting rent. But on the other hand, Theo was⦠kind of needy. He had criminally low self-esteem, and needed constant reassurance from his friends ā especially now that Luca had dumped him. That was the reason he was now living in my spare room.
Heād moved in several weeks ago, and it was largely going well. I loved our daily movie nights and it was nice to share meals with someone. Theo was just as much of a neat freak as me, so it really didnāt feel like a burden having him around. If anything, the apartment was cleaner than ever⦠But his constant self-doubt was really driving me insane.
āAre you sure the food tastes OK?ā, heād ask after cooking our dinner. āWe can turn this movie off if youāre not enjoying it,ā heād apologise just ten minutes into a film. Worst of all was the daily routine of having to reassure him that he looked good before he left the house. āDoes my hair look weird?ā heād ask, fretting in the mirror as he adjusted his perfectly coiffed dark hair. āIs this zit noticeable?ā heād press, drawing my attention to a perfectly clear patch of skin. And most infuriating of all: āDo these pants make me look fat?ā
Theo was thin as a rail. He was just one of those guys who were blessed with a superhuman metabolism as well as the self-discipline to be really careful about what he ate. Here he was, pushing 30, with not an ounce of fat on his frame. I envied him - I was fit myself, but I had to work really hard in the gym for it. My work as a personal trainer helped with that.
I was being harsh. Theo was a great roommate and an even better friend. I just wished he liked what he saw when he looked in the mirror.
And thatās exactly what I told the old lady behind the counter at Miss Mabelās Curios & Antiques, a dusty little store downtown that Iād passed by a billion times. I wasnāt sure why I was here - Iād been ranting to a friend about my predicament with Theo, and sheād said that Miss Mabel would know what to do. At my whitās end, I trusted her recommendation.
āOh, thatās easy my boy,ā she said in a creaky little voice as she jumped down from her stool. She was a small lady, wearing what looked like at least ten cardigans and her messy grey hair tied in a bun atop her head. She had a warm and eccentric charm about her; not quite like a grandma, but moreso like a distant elderly aunt who you saw at the occasional family function.
She tottered off down one of the storeās aisles, before looking back over her shoulder expectantly. āWell, come on then!ā she beckoned, and I quickly followed her. We soon stopped in front of a large rectangular object, as tall as I was and concealed under a dust sheet which Miss Mabel promptly whipped off.
It was a mirror - and an old one at that. The glass was in reasonably good condition but the frame - decorated with intricate carvings of daffodils - was in a sorry state, with chunks of wood missing and deep scars across the surface. What on earth did Miss Mabel think I could achieve with this?
āDonāt be so dense, dearie,ā she teased, tapping me on the forehead. āThis is a magic mirror. Give it to your friend, itāll sort him right out.ā
I had more than a few reservations, most of them related to the small fact that I didnāt believe in magic mirrors - or any kind of magic, actually. And yet, Miss Mabel seemed very certain and there was no hint of trickery in her kind eyes. Plus, when I noticed the Ā£10 price tag on the mirror, it dissolved any concerns I had that this could be a con. That was an absolute steal, even if the mirror had seen better days. I paid her the money and headed for the door, before Miss Mabel called after me.
āJust a wee warning, dearie,ā she said hesitantly. āMagic, especially old magic like that, can be unpredictable. Keep an eye on your friend, hm?ā
I nodded, and made my way home.
Theo was delighted with the mirror, which I thought was an odd response to something that looked like Iād rescued it from a dump. He might have been unsure at first, raising an eyebrow when I revealed its new location hung in our hallway, but as soon as he looked into it I watched his face change. There was a light in his eyes as they lingered longer than normal on his reflection, and I saw his mouth curl into a smile. That never happened. Maybe the mirror really was magic⦠In any case, it seemed to do the trick, and I went to bed that evening quietly confident that Theo was going to be a little softer on himself.
When I woke up the following morning, it was to the smell of bacon. Weird, I thought. We usually just had toast for breakfast, or maybe a smoothie. But I certainly wasnāt going to complain! God, Theo was the best roommate Iād ever hadā¦
As I walked out into the hallway, Theo was looking at himself in the mirror and flexing his non-existent muscles. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, heading through to the kitchen. The bacon was looking very dark in the pan, much crispier than I liked it, and none of the bread for our sandwiches had been buttered.
āTheo, this bacon is looking very done,ā I called out to him. He didnāt answer. āTheo?ā I called again.
āUgh, what?ā he snapped back in a tone Iād never heard him use before, though he quickly seemed to catch his rude behaviour. āOh, um, Iām sorry,ā he said, scrambling for words but not taking his eyes off his reflection. āWould you mind finishing off breakfast for me?ā He asked. āIām kinda busy.ā
He was acting strange, but I tried my best not to overthink it and did as I was asked, slathering some butter on the four slices of bread and transferring the bacon into two sandwiches.
āItās ready,ā I said, and headed to the fridge. Thatās weird, I thought. There was no milk left to make our coffees, even though Iād bought some yesterday. And why had Theo put the empty carton back in the fridge? I poured us two glasses of orange juice instead.
At that moment, Theo walked into the kitchen without saying a word, and then left again with the bacon sandwiches. Both of them. And when I gave chase to confront him about it, expecting to find him sat in the living room, I was stopped dead in my tracks. He was stood in the hallway, stuffing the sandwiches into his mouth with eyes fixed on the mirror, like he was watching TV.
I heard Miss Mabelās warning in my head. Keep an eye on your friend⦠Something was wrong.
Later that day, Iād rushed over to Miss Mabelās shop to get her advice - but when I arrived, the lights were off and the door was locked. Thatās when I noticed the sign, handwritten in spidery penmanship: āON VACATION! SIX WEEKS IN EGYPT! SEE YOU SOON DEARIES. MMxā. There was a little drawing of some pyramids in the bottom corner. Fuck.
I didnāt want to mess with the mirror, since I figured if it really was magic then I had no clue how it might affect Theo. Just a glance had changed his behaviour dramatically, who knew what else it could do? And so I reasoned that the best thing to do would be to wait for Miss Mabel to return, and in the meantime to follow her advice and keep an eye on him. After all, he wasnāt exactly a danger or in any pain - he was just acting⦠different. Little did I know, heād soon be looking different tooā¦
***
It had started after a few days. The novelty of the mirror seemed to have worn off for Theo, and he no longer spent all day in front of it like he did that first day. But he was still acting differently, and Iād still catch him checking himself out in it multiple times a day. This particular evening, we were sat in front of the TV while Theo ate dinner. Since buying the mirror, Theo only prepared food for himself, but Iād planned to heat up my leftovers from yesterday so that we could eat together. I was feeling distant from him and thought it would be a good chance to chat. Except, when I opened the fridge, I found they were gone, no doubt eaten by my strange new roommate. So I reluctantly ordered a pizza, and sat with Theo as I waited for it to arrive.
Theo didnāt appear to be in the mood for a chat, his eyes glued to the TV while he shovelled heaping forkfuls of creamy pasta into his mouth, chewing loudly. It was like someone else had taken over his body. Most weird of all was his choice of programming - usually, we might watch a documentary together, or catch up on one of our regular dramas. And heād always ask what I wanted to watch. But today we were watching a home shopping network, with a musclebound (and very attractive) jock demonstrating some workout equipment.
āOh come on Theo,ā I teased, trying to make conversation. āHeās hot, sure, but surely thereās something else we can watch?ā
Theo looked at me with a look of utter incomprehension, even pausing his feeding frenzy to process what Iād just said. I felt like Iād offended him. He shoved another fork in his mouth and finally spoke as he chewed.
āThat man aināt hot,ā he said, spraying me with flecks of cream before swallowing. āHeās got nothing on me. And look at all the exercise heās gotta do just to have those puny muscles. Mine are twice as big and are all natural.ā
Now it was my turn to look confused. Surely Theo was joking? He had no muscle whatsoever⦠He was practically a skeleton. Except⦠Now that I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, that wasnāt quite trueā¦
He was⦠Not ābiggerā, per se⦠he certainly didnāt look like heād gained any muscle. But he was⦠softer, somehow. It was almost imperceptible, a thin coating over his whole body, a slight puffiness⦠But now that Iād noticed it, there was no denying it. For a moment, I reasoned that it was natural for someone so thin to put on a couple of pounds, considering how much Theo had been stuffing his face these last few days. But then, as he finished his huge bowl of pasta and made his way over to the mirror for his routine post-meal quality time with his reflection, curiosity got the better of me and I peeked into the hallway to watch.
He stood tall and proud, flexing non-existent muscles as though he were a world-champion body builder. And then, most alarmingly of all, I saw him grow.
It happened so slowly I couldnāt even be sure it was really happening, but as I fixed my eyes on his form there was no denying it. His arms were thickening and filling out his sleeves a little more, while the slight softness at his waist began to press against his shirt. Within a few minutes he looked to be about 5lbs heavier - not a big deal for most people, but certainly noticeable on Theoās lithe frame. My mouth was wide open in shock. This just wasnāt possible. It had to be my eyes playing tricks on me, my imagination getting the better of me⦠I was just stressed out by Theoās personality transplant⦠Iā¦
The doorbell rang, and Theo ignored it, too preoccupied with his reflection. āThatāll be my pizza,ā I said, getting to my feet. No sooner had I said it, Theo eagerly answered the door and brought in the pizza, setting it down in before me on the coffee table. I felt an odd sense of relief - this was the kind of attentive behaviour I was used to from Theo. Maybe the magic was wearing off⦠Maybe my old roommate wasnāt gone after all.
I went to the kitchen to get some drinks (water for me, a glass of milk for Theo) and returned to the living room, where I found Theo already halfway through devouring my pizza.
***
It had been a week since I brought home the mirror, and I was pretty adjusted now to Theoās newfound greed and selfishness. I found it difficult to get angry with him when I discovered the fridge cleared out or a stack of dirty dishes in the sink - I was the one who had brought the mirror into our home; I was the one whoād meddled because I couldnāt deal with Theo needing a little extra encouragement.
When I got home from work each day, I would typically find Theo in one of two places: sat on the couch stuffing his face, or flexing and pouting in the dreaded mirror. This time, it was the latter.
God, heād really blown up now. It was all happening so quickly and every time I saw him he looked to be bigger than the time before. I had accepted the impossible fact that the mirror was piling the pounds onto my friend; even now, as I watched him admiring himself, I watched in real time as Theoās new soft underbelly slowly inched out the bottom of his shirt. Heād always dressed in oversized clothing, but now everything he owned was starting to get very snug on his oversized body.
āMy god, Iām gorgeous,ā he said aloud. āLuca doesnāt know what heās missing.ā he said, kissing his own soft bicep. āI havenāt been to the gym all week and my guns are looking better than ever!ā
I smiled politely, but I was worried. Miss Mabel was still out of town for another five weeks, and I guessed that Theo must have already stacked on about 50lbs. You didnāt need to be a maths genius to figure out that he risked ending up over 400lbs by the time she was able to help us break the spell. If she was able to help us. Theo still stood a chance of working this off now, but if things got that far⦠heād be changed forever.
āTheo, can we talk?ā I asked. He huffed a little, clearly annoyed to be pulled away from the mirror, but reluctantly followed me into the living room.
***
It had been two weeks since my conversation with Theo, and things were still intensely frosty between us. Iād asked him if he was OK, and heād insisted he was never better. Iād asked him if heād noticed any changes in his behaviour, and heād said heād just realised that he needed to put himself first. Iād asked him if heād noticed any changes in his body, and he agreed that yes, heād been growing lately - that his muscles were inexplicably growing. He couldnāt explain it, he said, but he was happy with the results.
I gently tried to explain that it didnāt look that way to me, that I thought he might have been bulking with how much heād been eating, but with the right cut heād be looking awesome in no time⦠That sent him into a rage. We had a huge argument. Heād screamed at me - was I fucking blind? Did I not see how perfect his body was? I was just jealous - and then he stormed out, softer ass bouncing behind him in too-tight shorts. Since then, we hadnāt really spoken, and things were getting so much worseā¦
He was really big now. Like, he was a certified fat guy, a fully fledged 300 pounder - or maybe more? It was difficult to tell. Every time I saw him, I had to do a double take: firstly, because my brain wasnāt quite catching up with his skyrocketing weight and was failing to register this figure as my roommate. And secondly, because heād outgrown all his clothes and taken to wandering the apartment in just a pair of boxer briefs. They were so tight on him that the elastic waistbands had all developed wide holes.
His choice of dress meant that all his fresh fat was on full display, a constant reminder of what Iād brought upon him by bringing home the mirror. His face was round and bloated, making his eyes look beady and piggish above two puffed-out cheeks. Beneath it was a thick ring of fat, a double chin that was exaggerated when he looked down at his phone. His shoulders had become strikingly broad, though not with the muscle he was still convinced he possessed; they rounded out and sloped like big hills, bunching up behind his neck in another wedge of fat that gave him the look of a hunchbacked office worker. Further down, two plump tits hung from his chest, pooling under his armpits and gathering in thick rolls on his back. They were so distracting; jiggling wildly with every slight movement he made, it was impossible to look away. And beneath them sat the main event: a big, soft belly that had started to hang down over his crotch like a flabby apron. Whilst not as jiggly as his tits (perhaps because it was always full of food), it still looked soft and plush, wobbling as he waddled around the apartment. Heād even started to walk like a fat guy, I noticed, swinging his fat arms side to side to offset his sudden weight gain.
I felt terrible. And as I watched him posing yet again in the mirror, having just demolished a family-sized tray of pasta as a snack between meals, I felt even more terrible. The mirror would be working its sinister magic on him and turning all that food into fat. Sure enough, as if to prove a point, I heard a ripping sound and noticed one of the holes in his underwear growing beneath his widening hips. I had to do something.
***
I resolved to get rid of the mirror. Iād known all along it was the right thing to do, but I was scared of Theoās reaction. He was so volatile. Part of me was also scared of how it might affect him - had he and the mirror formed some kind of magic bond? What would happen if that was severed? But as my friendās weight inched closer to 400lbs with each day, I knew I had to do something. But the issue was now pressing, as I was due to leave on a trip Iād booked myself months ago. I was going to be gone for two weeks, and while I certainly wasnāt in the mood to go now, Iād already paid a lot of money and it wasnāt exactly like I could wave a wand and stop all this. What good could I possibly do here? In fact, Theo seemed to resent me the more I tried to help. But I could still hear Miss Mabelās warning that I ought to keep an eye on him, ringing around my head. I reasoned that if I could get the mirror out of the way and then disappear myself for a couple of weeks, maybe that would at least slow whatever was happening to my friend.
And so, when Theo was out getting food, I made my move, carefully taking the mirror off the wall and making my way to the door. Before I could reach it, it opened of its own accord⦠and there in the doorway was Theo. Fuck. He was so big now that it was impossible not to be intimidated by him, even if he did look ridiculous squeezed into clothes that he was 150lbs too big for. He was visibly uncomfortable, all the fabric digging into his fat, which burst unflatteringly out of every opening. His belly was barely covered by the material, making it look like he was wearing a crop top, and several inches of his ass crack were visible, not able to be contained by the sweatpants that were painted onto his thick, gelatinous thighs. I couldnāt believe heād left the house like this, but I suppose it was better that than parading around in his underwear. Anyone who saw him must have thought he was totally unaware of his weight, or that he had suddenly ballooned overnight. They would have had no idea how close to the truth they wereā¦
āWhat the fuck are you doing with that?ā he snarled, snatching the mirror off me with one meaty, fat-fingered hand while the other shoved the remaining half of a burger into his mouth. He seemed to swallow it in one gulp. A thick blob of ketchup dripped onto his stretched and strained t-shirt.
I was still frozen, unable to say or do anything. He barged past me, making his way to his bedroom. He re-emerged a few seconds later, no longer carrying the mirror. It would seem he would be keeping it in there from now on. āDonāt touch my shit,ā he warned in a terrifyingly severe tone and then tipped a container of fries into his mouth, dropping the empty packet on the floor. I nodded emphatically.
Without hesitation, he tried to peel off his t-shirt but found himself met with great difficulty. He squirmed and writhed his fat body, trying to manoeuvre himself out of the fabric, but it was simply too tight. I had no idea how heād even got it on⦠perhaps heād grown in the time since? Without warning, he let out a yell of frustration and then tore the entire thing off him in one furious motion. āAnd another thing,ā he spat, turning his broad back to me and making his way back into his room. āStop washing my clothes, Iām sick of you fucking shrinking everything.ā
***
The two weeks away had been a complete waste. I was barely able to relax or take in any of the culture, constantly worried about my friend back home. In truth, I wanted to disconnect from Theo. Iād tried to help him change course and he was treating me so terribly⦠It was hard to care about him. But I couldnāt shake the guilt - it was me that had caused this, and I owed it to Theo to make it right. Besides, this wasnāt really Theo who was acting this way. It had to be something or someone else⦠Perhaps he was possessed, or hypnotised, or⦠It couldnāt have changed him, could it? And certainly not so dramatically? But then I remembered the giant, flabby ass that he was no doubt sat on back home, stuffing his fat face, and I knew that it could⦠I just hoped there was some kind of counter-magic that Miss Mabel could use to undo all this, to make it like it never happened. It was magic after all, right? Iād learned that anything was possibleā¦
After pausing a while outside the apartment door, unsure of the reception Iād receive from my roommate upon my return, I finally pushed it open. One thing I was sure of was the condition Iād find Theo in. I had no doubt in my mind that he would be weighing in another 100lbs heavier than when Iād left, and Iād braced myself for the sight of him. I assumed heād be sat in the living room, shovelling food into his growing gut - and this suspicion was supported by the volume of fast food wrappers strewn through the hallway. It was disgusting, looking and smelling like a back alley in the city. I couldnāt believe this was my home. But when I peered into the living room, I found nothing there other than more mess. The TV was off and Theo was nowhere to be seen. Hmm⦠strange⦠I glanced to where the mirror used to hang, and then to his bedroom. Perhaps he was holed up in there, checking himself out?
Morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I cautiously approached the door, knocking gingerly and calling out his name. āTheo?ā
He didnāt respond, but I could hear strange noises coming from within. It sounded like laboured, heavy breathing. Was Theo fucking someone? Or getting himself off? I listened closer - no, it wasnāt that, the breathing was so erratic, gasping for air⦠He sounded like he was in trouble. I became alarmed. āTheo, are you OK?ā
I flung the door open and my world ground to a halt. Theo was not OK.
Theoās room was a complete pig sty, piled high with empty pizza boxes and food containers. It stank of sweat and grease and god knows what else, the stench so thick in the air I had to cover my nose. Heād propped up the mirror at the end of his bed, presumably so he could lay in it and admire himself⦠And the consequences of that decision were enormous.
Literally enormous. Theo was totally unrecognisable, his pale pink flesh filling the entire double bed. He was the fattest man Iād ever seen - perhaps the fattest man that had ever been? His facial features were buried under fat; just two beady eyes and a pair of puckered, sauce-stained lips. If I wasnāt aware of all that had passed in the last few weeks, I would never be able to identify this person as Theo. He was completely transformed. His whole body was splattered with various sauces that he had clearly dribbled on mid-feast⦠which made sense. He was clearly too big to move and showering would have been impossible.
The blob of a man that lay gasping for air in Theoās bed was almost as wide as he was tall. Itās difficult to describe any part of him in detail, as all his body parts sort of squished together and melded into one another, fat jostling for space. His tits were each bigger than my head, and there were bits of food wedged in his deep cleavage. His arms were so pumped full of fat that I think they were bigger than my waist. I couldnāt see much of his legs as they were covered by his gargantuan belly, rolling and rocking like jelly with each pained breath, but even his feet were swollen with fat, threatening to be swallowed up into his legs. Fuck, I thought to myself. How could someone have fat toes?
I wanted to say something but my brain was completely fried. What the fuck do you say to a whale who was thin as a beanpole little more than a month ago? Theo looked like a fucking sideshow attraction. Fortunately, he spoke first.
āDude, thank god ā youāre hereāā he wheezed. What? Was he actually happy to see me? Maybe the magic had worn off! My hopes were short lived... āNobodyā wantsā to deliverā my food,ā he confessed. āBunch ofā fuckingā assholesā¦ā
I could see why minimum wage delivery drivers would want to avoid this cesspit. Something told me the new Theo was not a generous tipper. But this was my fault after all, and I couldnāt let him starve. Reluctantly I agreed to go pick him something up - if nothing else it would give me time to think over what to do next. I watched him with pity as he placed the pickup order on his phone, his fat sausage fingers mashing things he didnāt mean to press. He didnāt seem to be removing any of those items from his basket, thoughā¦
Soon enough I was back at the apartment with ten paper bags full to the brim with junk. They were as fit to burst as he was, and after handing them over I sat on the edge of the bed (squeezing myself onto the only unoccupied corner I could find) and buried my head in my hands. What was I going to do?
He made short work of the meal and half an hour later he was burping, rubbing his giant gut, and admiring himself in the mirror. āFuckā Iām soā sexy,ā he moaned. āWhyā did I everā settleā for Luca? Iām soā outā of hisā league⦠Gotta findā me someoneā as hotā I amā¦ā
I snapped. āTheo, how the fuck are you gonna do that?! Youāre as big as a fucking house! You canāt even get out of bed!ā I wanted to smack him out of his delusional daydream. But it wasnāt fair to take my frustration out on him, and I tried to calm myself. This wasnāt his fault.
āYes Iā fuckingā can,ā he gasped. āIām justā restingā so myā musclesā can growā¦ā
There was silence between us for a moment. I had no idea what to say, and Theo was too distracted by caressing his own lard in the mirror for a conversation. But as he groped himself, his moaning got louder and more⦠sensual⦠I was no longer certain that it was just a symptom of discomfort from his overindulgence. He seemed to be enjoying himselfā¦
āPleaseā manāā he begged, looking at me with pleading eyes. āHelpā meā outā here⦠Iā knowā youā canātā resistā meā¦ā
Fortunately, I didnāt have time to take him up on his perverted offer. There was an almighty crash, and the room seemed to lift up into the air as I felt myself fall downwards. It took me a few seconds to realise what had happened: the cursed mirror had fattened Theo up so big that the bed could no longer support him, and now he and I sat on the floor, surrounded by its broken pieces. His whole body was wobbling from the impact and he looked like a giant, melted marshmallow. I was surprised he didnāt fall straight through the floor and into the apartment below.
I spotted something shiny by my hand, and on closer examination I saw it was a shard of glass. The mirror. I noticed it had fallen over face-down, and when I nervously lifted its side to inspect the damage I saw that the whole thing was shattered. Oh god, I worried to myself. How was Theo going to react?
āWhatā justā happenedā,ā Theo grunted to himself as I got to my feet and stood the mirror up. He seemed lost and confused, a softness in his voice that I recognised from before all this mess began. His eyes seemed to adjust to the room, taking in his surroundings as though heād just woken up from a dream. āWhatāsā goingā onā,ā he gasped, shaking his head in confusion (though the fat in his neck limited his movement). Still, his cheeks jiggled as he did so. āAmā Iā sick..? Iā canātā breatheā¦ā I barely registered what he was saying, too worried about his response to finding out the mirror was broken.
āTheo,ā I said, trying to steady my voice. āIām really sorry⦠Iāll buy you a new one right away, but⦠Ugh. I donāt know how to say this, butā¦ā I gulped. āYour mirror is broken.ā
I turned the mirror around to face him, so he could see the damage for himself. For a moment he didnāt really react at all, furrowing his brow in confusion. He didnāt seem at all sure why he should care about a broken mirror, despite the fact heād done little else for the past five weeks than stare in it and feed himself. But as he looked harder, as he really focussed his eyes on the mountain of flesh looking back at him, something seemed to click in his mind⦠A moment of world-shattering realisation...
He recognised himself, and his eyes went wide in horror. He screamed.
Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Student
Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddogās Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. Todayās theme was Transformation.
I felt an odd sense of trepidation as I sat in the campus coffee house, eyes fixed on the doorway as I kept an eye out for my ex-student. It had been about five years since Tristan graduated from the Media & Communications course that I lectured on, and by a strange twist of fate weād been reintroduced over e-mail. The university was working with a big agency in the city on an external project, who had appointed Tristan as their lead. It always felt bittersweet when a student bagged a top job like that, their salary bound to far exceed my own. But I had to remind myself that there were other benefits to teaching, that helping others to grow was part of the reward. Teaching was transformative.
It should have come as no surprise that Tristan was one of those students to excel soon after graduating. He was always incredibly bright; his comments in groupwork were incisive and quick-witted, and the quality of his own projects was mostly unmatched. Of course, it helped that he was incredibly good-looking. With his curly brown hair, sharp features and boyish physique, he was the poster boy for the gay beauty standard and his tall, slender frame meant he often got work modelling. Call me a cynic, but looks can take you far⦠Itās often not what you know, or even who you know, but how you look that can open doors. I was certainly guilty of giving him preferential treatment back when he was a student on account of my inexplicable crush on the young man. It didnāt hurt that he was incredibly charismatic. Tristan could get whatever he wanted by sweet talking and flashing a warm smile.
I was brought back from Memory Lane when the small bell above the cafe door let out a little ring, as a large fat man squeezed his way through the doorframe. He was wearing an all-black ensemble, which reminded me of Tristan, as he was one of those gays who only ever wore black. But Tristanās clothes were always stylish, with the type of interesting and unusual cuts that could only ever be found in small sizes. This man wore a simple half-zip sweater, open to reveal a black t-shirt underneath, and black sweatpants. I reasoned that at his size, options must be limited. The guy had to be almost 400lbs, if not more⦠Iād always been pretty fit myself, so I was admittedly bad at estimating this kind of thing. In any case, it was remarkable that someone so young-looking could get so large.
The fat man stood in the doorway for a moment, surveying the coffee shop. He was clearly here to meet someone. I found myself getting irritated, he was blocking my view and risked ruining the warm greeting Iād rehearsed in my head for Tristan. Iād look away when I spotted him, then act surprise when we met eyes, before smiling and beckoning him over. Then Iād ask if I could get him a drink.
I frowned as I watched the man scanning the tables. He had a big, round, cherubic face, with full cheeks and a thick ring of fat under his chin. As he swept his curly dark hair off his forehead, I couldnāt help but feel there was something familiar about him. This happened a lot, which wasnāt surprising considering how many students I taught each year, some for just one or two modules. They couldnāt all be as remarkable and as memorable as Tristan.
It was at this point that the man and I met eyes, recognition on both our faces. I must have known him after all, so I smiled politely and nodded, not wanting an awkward conversation. But when the whale of a man smiled back, everything seemed to freeze. I was like a deer in the headlights, for there was only one person in the world with a smile like that. My mouth dropped. This enormous young man was Tristan McVey!
He chuckled at my dumbstruck reaction and began waddling over to me, his whole body wobbling like jelly with each heavy footstep. His tits (and there really was no other word for them) were so plump and round, filling out his sweater like plush pillows. The few seconds it took him to approach me seemed to last an age, playing out each jiggling movement of his gelatinous form in unforgiving slow-motion.
By the time he reached my table, still smiling, and held out his hand for a shake, I was still seated. It took me a few seconds to catch up, scrambling to my feet and taking his meaty hand in mine to greet him.
āProfessor!ā he beamed. His voice was deeper than I remembered it, but still sweet like warm honey. āItās so good to see you!ā I was still transfixed on the hand Iād just shaken, each finger looking like a pink and overstuffed sausage.
āTristan,ā I mumbled. āSorry, I uh, I suppose I didnāt recognise youāā why on Earth did I say that? I couldnāt think straight. Fortunately, Tristan didnāt seem to take offence. He just chuckled nonchalantly.
āHeh, yeah, I get that a lot!ā he laughed, his double chin visibly wobbling. āIāve changed a bit, huh?ā he asked cheekily, giving his big belly a gentle tap. It rocked and rippled at the slightest touch, sloshing about under his sweater. āBut not you!ā He said, gesturing towards me. āYouāre looking better than ever!ā He winked, before taking a seat opposite me. The chair groaned in protest as his weight settled on it, threatening to collapse if he made any sudden movements. I was still standing, my mouth agape.
āCan I, uh, get you something to drink?ā I asked, doing my best to compose myself. Tristan stretched as I spoke, his black sweater riding up his gut and revealing a big slither of belly as he did so. It was covered in stretch marks and a light sprinkling of hair, letting me know for certain that the twink I used to admire from afar was well and truly gone forever. I had no idea how it had happened, but the Tristan I knew was totally transformed, replaced by this piggish man before me.
āThank you, that would be amazing,ā he smiled. āIāll get an extra large white chocolate mocha, with whipped cream and caramel.ā I stared at him blankly, half in shock and half in disgust. āOh, and can you make sure they use whole milk? I hate when they use the skimmed stuff. And donāt let them skimp on the caramel!ā
āSure thingā¦ā I nodded slowly and turned to walk to the bar. Iād only made it a few steps before Tristan was calling after me.
āOh, and Professor,ā he said, not looking even a little bit sheepish. āI was so excited to see you today that I barely got chance to eat. Iām absolutely starvingā¦ā
I was taken aback by his brazenness, but it didnāt feel entirely out of character for Tristan. He was never shy and always knew what he wanted.
āWould you like something to eat?ā I asked, an eyebrow raised against my will. While I may have found this endearing a few years ago, pleasing Tristan was a lot less attractive now that he⦠was a lot less attractive.
āThat would be amazing,ā he repeated, his stock phrases standing out more now that I wasnāt infatuated with him, and told me heād heard they did great cakes here. I almost scowled there and then, but then Tristan hit me with that famous smile of his. And in that moment, it suddenly made sense how Tristan had gotten so fat.
Birthday Surprise
I huffed in a deep breath and tried to make the button on my pants meet, but it was futile. I couldnāt believe that the tent-like garment Iād bought at the thrift store was too small. Iād never seen pants that big before, and you could have fit two of me in one leg. Reluctantly, I pulled the giant slacks off and got to work at removing some of the padding, taking just enough from my belly and ass that when I pulled them back up I was finally able to push the brass button through the hole. I nervously let go of my breath; a little worried, as the button threatened to burst off should I make any sudden movements. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. Being fat was hard work!
I considered taking out a little more padding, just to be sure of avoiding a wardrobe malfunction at a fancy place like Manoloās, but I convinced myself not to. I really wanted to do this for Dylan, and I had a feeling heād appreciate every extra ounce of me that I could manage.
It had been a strange conversation, some weeks prior, when my boyfriend had confessed his preference for larger men. Strange first, because I didnāt understand the appeal myself. I liked my men toned and muscular, like Dylan. And strange second, because weād been dating for over a year now (having met at my sisterās wedding) and in that time my body had always been lithe and slender. At 29, it was admittedly getting trickier to maintain this physique as my metabolism began to slow down, but with careful attention to my diet and a routine morning run, Iād keep it up as long as I could. So why had Dylan even dated me for this long if I wasnāt his type? It just didnāt make much sense.
Dylan explained that it wasnāt a dealbreaker for him. Heād reassured me that he found me very attractive (and this was confirmed by how he treated me in the bedroom), just that he would find me even more attractive if Iād consider gaining a few pounds. I told him I wasnāt comfortable with that, and there was no pressure from him at all. He was great about it, and we never really brought it up again.Ā
But I couldnāt quite shake it off⦠There was no way I was getting fat, no matter how much I liked Dylan, but I also wanted to be able to satisfy this part of him. Admittedly, Iām pretty vanilla, so it was difficult for me to wrap my head around Dylanās interests, but I became committed to the idea of helping Dylan to live out this strange fantasy of his.Ā
After digging around on some unsavoury corners of the internet, Iād found a whole community of thin people like me who were engaged in this kink. Padding and fat suits allowed them to blow up to their fantasy proportions, get their (or their partnerās) rocks off, and then take the fat off and put it in a box. That seemed like the perfect way to do something nice for Dylan without compromising my body or health. And that led me here, standing in front of my bedroom mirror, confronted by a 500lb version of myself looking back at me.
I had a good job and a lot of disposable income, so Iād been comfortably able to drop a couple of grand on a top of the line, all-singing all-Dylancing fat suit. I figured it would be my birthday gift to Dylan; he was well-paid too and had whisked me away recently on an expensive trip, so it made sense. I had a feeling heād prefer this to jewellery or a watch.
Despite what Iād paid for it, the suit was still not entirely convincing. The shape was very lifelike, some parts made from latex and others from stuffed fabric to capture the different ways that the body stores fat. I had a big apron of a belly, and a bra-like layer fitted on top to give me two huge man tits. The 5XL dress shirt Iād bought at the thrift store clung to the rolls it gave me and showed off my fake fuller features. Padding in my arms filled out the sleeves like overstuffed sausages, and my legs and ass similarly threatened to burst out of my pants. But there were definite drawbacks. None of it seemed to move in a very convincing way; there was no jiggle or wobble that you would expect from a man of my supposed size, and because the fat suit was relatively light I found that I had to adapt my movements if I wanted to really sell the illusion. I was simply too agile, too light on my feet, to look like a truly fat person.
Worst of all were my extremities. The fat suit ended at my neck, wrists and ankles, meaning that my angular facial features and my slender fingers were jarringly different from the rest of my bloated body. Ultimately, I convinced myself that it didnāt matter. I was surprising Dylan with something nice and hopefully sexy. If this was a hit and did something for him, I had no issue stuffing myself into this costume every once in a while to sate his desires. If he had any intention of sticking with me long-term, then heād have to accept that this was the closest heād get to having a āsuperchubā (another word Iād learned online) for a boyfriend - skinny face and all!
And so I took one final look in the mirror, taking in all of my new size and admittedly feeling a little ridiculous as I pulled on the tight dinner jacket Iād picked up and adjusted my little black bowtie. Although the suit wasnāt heavy, my movements were definitely clumsy - the firmness of my fake fat made it difficult to bend my body in a natural way. This made itself most obvious to me as I spent ten minutes figuring out how to put on my shoes before leaving the house.Ā
A taxi was waiting for me outside, and after manoeuvring myself into the back of the car (the driver pulled forward the passenger seat to account for my new belly), I apologised for keeping him waiting and we set off for Manoloās. The debacle with my pants and shoes meant that I was now running late, but I figured Dylan wouldnāt mind once he saw me. About 40 minutes out of town, it was one of the fanciest places I knew of - but I mainly picked it because it was the place I was most confident I wouldnāt run into anyone I knew. What would someone say if they saw me dressed up like this? Heck, what would I say? As I drove, I began to regret the whole idea. It was stupid. It was too risky. And I was far too hot!Ā
By the time the cab pulled up outside, I was sweaty and uncomfortable, so I was glad to step out into the cool March air. I dried my forehead on the sleeve of my jacket and took some deep breaths before approaching the entrance of the bistro and squeezing myself through the door.Ā
As expected, the place was bustling, and as I waited for the maitre dā I found myself becoming incredibly self-conscious. It wasnāt a feeling I was familiar with; I never felt out of place in a swanky joint like this, but I could feel the judgemental gaze of the snooty diners finding me from their seats. While not something Iām proud of, I realised in that moment that it was usually me passing judgement on people who didnāt belong. I could imagine the snarky comments I might have made if the shoe were on the other foot, and a fatty in an ill-fitting suit had showed up like this. It wasnāt a good look in either case.
Finally, the maitre dā reluctantly greeted me, looking me up and down dismissively before asking if I had a reservation. He looked disappointed when I confirmed that I did and gave him my name.Ā
āThe rest of your party is already seated,ā he said, in an accent that I placed as vaguely European. āRight this way, sir.ā I could hear the disdain heād loaded into that last word. I was stressed as I followed him through the restaurant, feeling all eyes on me and hearing whispered jibes. This was such a mistake. This was such a big mistake. This was such a big, fat, huge mistakeā
And then I saw Dylan. And I saw him see me, and I saw his eyes widen and his jaw drop. I saw pink flush his cheeks and I saw the gears in his brain grind to a halt, unable to process the birthday surprise. And then I saw him smirk, and all my stress dissipated. Iād done it⦠It was a hit.
āHey handsome,ā I said, kissing him on his rosy cheek and sitting down on the chair. The padding in my ass made it exceptionally comfortable, but I felt a lot higher up than usual, as though I was sat on an especially plump cushion. I supposed I was! āHappy birthday, sorry Iām late,ā I said, handing him the bunch of flowers Iād brought with me. Dylanās mind was clearly still reeling and he took a big gulp of water. For a moment, we just sat and grinned at each other.Ā
āWhat the fuck is this?ā He chuckled in a hushed tone. I smiled smugly, shrugged my thick shoulders, and said I didnāt know what he meant. āI canāt believe you,ā he said, sitting back in his chair and looking at me intensely, big stupid smile on his handsome face. He was starting to liven up now, and the look he had about him was a Dylangerous mix of disbelief and lust. I definitely recognised the glazed quality of his eyes in the latter, but Iād never seen it so intense. It was like he wanted to strip me off then and there.Ā
āI just thought it would be a nice surprise for your birthday,ā I said, careful to keep my volume low. āI thought we could live out your fantasy a bitā¦ā Now I was the one blushing.
āThank you,ā he purred, grabbing my hand. āThis is the best present ever. You look⦠Amazingā¦ā he said, that hunger in his eyes flaring up again.Ā
āHey, remember that Iām still your skinny boyfriend under here, donāt make me regret showing you what Iād look like as a superchub,ā I scolded him in a joking manner, but in truth I was half-serious. I didnāt want him to make me feel inadequate once I took the suit off. But he wasnāt interested in any of what Iād just said besides that last word, which made him sit bolt upright in his chair.Ā
āSuperchub?ā He remarked, his disbelief seemingly knowing no limits this evening. āWhere the hell did you learn that?ā He laughed.
āIāve done my research,ā I said slyly, with a wink. āI want to make you happy.ā
āYou have,ā he said, stroking my hand. āThis is so fucking cool. You look greatā¦ā he reached out with his other hand and squeezed a handful of my chest. āLook at your tits!ā
I shrugged him off abruptly, not wanting to draw any further attention to myself. āHands off Mr, save it for later.ā I chided. His smile never faded the whole evening.Ā
***
By the time weād eaten, I could sense that we were both desperate to get home. I could see in Dylanās eyes that he couldnāt wait to explore the body Iād prepared for him, especially after the show Iād put on. Iād done my best to eat as much as possible, leaning into his fantasies, but my efforts were pretty pitiful. I just wasnāt a big eater. Dylan was a good sport though and it seemed to do something for him, even as I now reclined in my seat feeling bloated and ill. This was my main motivation for wanting to escape the restaurant - coupled with the overwhelming heat I felt within the suit, and the feeling of indiscreet glances and unkind words from neighbouring tables.Ā
Unfortunately, I knew it would be a while yet until we could leave, on account of the cake Iād ordered to surprise Dylan. Part of me thought about calling it off, or asking for it to be boxed up for me to present Dylan with once we got home, but before I could get the attention of a waiter, one came parading over with the large cake clad in white frosting. He set it down on the table with only a mumbled word or two, and sped off. The top read, āHappy Birthday Dylanā.
Dylan beamed. āYouāre just full of birthday surprises, arenāt you?ā He asked. I grinned smugly, feeling pleased with myself for having pulled all this off, but I could see the candles diminishing and I nodded to them to get his attention.
āDonāt forget to make a wish!ā I urged, half-joking. A mischievous grin overtook his face before he closed his eyes and blew out the candle.Ā
Something happened in that moment. I wasnāt sure what exactly, but I felt something⦠change. I donāt really know how to describe it. You know that one scene in Jaws, where the camera sort of pans back while zooming in, and you feel all out of sorts? Thatās what it felt like⦠Just for a minute. Like the space between myself and my surroundings was stretched out, before snapping back to reality like a rubber band.Ā
āYou OK, babe?ā asked Dylan. I hesitated, registering a strange feeling all over my body⦠an unfamiliarity, a wrongness that I just couldnāt pinpoint, but then I nodded to reassure him. āYouāre probably just hungry,ā he laughed. āThese fancy portion sizes probably arenāt made for guys like you in mind, huh?ā He said with a wink. He had to be joking - the food was fancy, yes, but Manoloās definitely hadnāt skimped on the servings. I was stuffed from the giant steak and potatoes Iād forced down my throat, and the creamy side vegetables. But I decided to play along with his little role-play, just for today.
āYeah,ā I nodded. āThat must be it. In fact, Iām still starving!ā
āThen I guess itās a good job you ordered this cake, isnāt it?ā Asked Dylan in the flirtiest voice Iād ever heard him use, as he picked up a knife and began to cut the cake. I panicked. I couldnāt eat another thing⦠Iād burst!
āOh no, babe, the cake is for youā¦ā I protested, watching helplessly as he cut a huge portion of the decadent dessert and plopped it down on my plate. It had to be almost a quarter!
āNonsense!ā He asserted. āI canāt have my big man going hungry.ā
Hungry? Was he insane? He couldnāt possibly think that Iād actually manage to eat any of this after the meal Iād just glutted on for him? I didnāt want to spoil the evening when Dylan was clearly having such a good time, but he was getting too carried away with all this. I was about to let him down gently, to explain that I was likely to hurl if I ate another thing, when my stomach grumbled. Loudly.Ā
Dylan giggled. āDonāt keep that gut of yours waiting!ā
I couldnāt believe it. I was hungry. I could feel it now, my body crying out for fuel. I was starving! I knew that this wasnāt right, but I didnāt have time to analyse the situation. I needed to eat something - now! I grabbed the huge wedge of cake and shoved it into my mouth. The taste of sugar and butter mixing on my tongue was euphoric - I never really indulged in cake. I could see how people got hooked on the stuff.Ā
It seemed like barely even a minute before I was swallowing my last mouthful. I reclined in my seat, which creaked under my weight, and licked the frosting from my pudgy fingers. There was a fog of confusion that hung over me, something glaringly, obviously wrong that I just couldnāt pin downā¦Ā
āDid you enjoy that, big boy?ā Purred Dylan from across the table, bringing me out of my stupor.Ā
āIāve never eaten that much cake in my lifeā¦ā I mumbled, trying to stifle a belch that came out louder than I expected, attracting a disgusted look from a nearby table.Ā
Dylan raised an eyebrow and smirked. āSure you havenāt!ā He said sarcastically, maybe even with a hint of meanness in his tone. It caught me off guard and I froze, not sure how to respond. Was this still part of the bit? Dylan was so committed that the line between what was real and what was fantasy felt like it was becoming more and more blurred.Ā
āI mean it⦠I havenāt.ā I said, to which Dylan just laughed.Ā
āYou keep telling yourself that, big boy. But Iām sure your sister would disagree! After all, you put away most of her wedding cake last year!ā He seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, but I wasnāt smiling. I just looked at him, my mouth agape, unsure what was happening. āOh come on babe, Iām just teasing you. Cāmere, youāve got frosting on your face,ā he said, leaning over and wiping off a big glob of frosting from my double chin. I watched it intently, saliva forming in my mouth before he pushed his finger seductively past my lips. I licked it clean, and he whispered: āGood boy.ā
My whole body felt heavy and cumbersome as we made our way outside and I lowered my bulk into the the taxi, which creaked under my heft before I pulled the door shut. The suit was really starting to weigh heavy on me, and I figured all the red wine Iād drunk hadnāt exactly helped my mobility. I reasoned that was probably why everything still felt so foggy.Ā
As the cab swept along the streets - which by now were dark - I still struggled to get my bearings. Watching the streetlights flit by through the window was a fitting metaphor, as it felt like I was moving much slower than normal while the world around me was moving ten times as fast. Dylan distracted my from my dazed dreaming, placing a hand on my huge gut and gently massaging it, kneading it like dough. It felt⦠Amazingā¦
My stomach rumbled again as we pulled onto my street. Surely I couldnāt be fucking hungry again already?! I glanced over at Dylan, who cheekily rolled his eyes. He seemed completely unfazed.
āDonāt worry, piggy,ā he whispered, tapping the lid of the large cardboard takeout box on his lap. āNot long now.ā The atmosphere in the back of the cab was electric; I could almost see Dylanās arm hair standing on end as the anticipation grew; he was excited, presumably because he imagined he was about to stuff me with the remainder of the cake. In my mind, I wanted to protest; I could never eat all that, no matter how hungry I was⦠But the longer time went on, the less sure of that I became. I really did feel fucking starving, and my mouth was getting wet as I remembered the fluffy texture of the sponge in my mouth. As the taxi pulled up outside, Dylan helped heave me out the car and my arm rubbed against the front of his pants. It wasnāt only his hair that was stood to attention.Ā
By the time we were inside, Dylan was racing upstairs and giggling. āCāmon fatty,ā he called out impatiently. āI want to get you out of that suit!ā
I stopped halfway up the staircase, clinging for dear life to the handrail as I gasped for breath and wiping sweat from my brow. Everything felt wrong and foreign, but two things kept me committed to the bit: first, that the whole point of this was to give Dylan a sexy experience, and second: that I really, really wanted the fucking cake.Ā
āSurely,ā I panted, heaving myself up one step at a time as I followed Dylan upstairs. āThe whole ā point is that āI ā leave the suit ā on?ā I questioned, trying to be as coy as possible but feeling very much like I was missing the mark. Of course, I wanted nothing more than to get this suit off and feel fresh air on my skin. But I had assumed Dylan would want me to keep it on, at least whilst he was feeding me the cake - oh god, what was wrong with me? I couldnāt keep my mind off the cake!
āDonāt be silly,ā Dylan cooed, leading me into the bedroom by my sweaty palm. As he took my hand in his, I couldnāt help but notice how small his looked in comparison. āI want to see what youāve got under there.ā He winked as he pushed me onto the bed, which let out such an almighty groan that I was convinced it might snap in two.Ā
āUm, Dylan,ā I mumbled, not really wanting to spoil the bit but equally wanting to manage his expectations. The mechanics of the suit were crude and I didnāt want him to spoil the illusion by peeking behind the curtain. āIām happy to do this,ā I said, looking up at his determined face, ābut you should know thereās not really much to look at under here. I think youāll like it better with the suit on.ā
Dylan just laughed and pulled off my jacket, giving it a big tug to convince the sleeves to part from my thick arms. āWhat, like I havenāt seen you naked before?ā He persisted, getting to work digging his fingers under my fat chin to unbutton my collar. āDonāt be shy big boy, I love your body.ā
I felt like I was on a runaway train, with no control over my actions as Dylan continued to undo the buttons of my shirt. None of what he was saying and doing made sense, but I couldnāt move my mouth to challenge him on it. Instead, I stared longingly at the cakebox heād set down on the bedside table. āAlmost there,ā he said, undoing the lower buttons of my shirt before the two halves separated and my huge, flabby gut burst free, jiggling for a few seconds before settling on my lap. āThere,ā he said. āThatās better.ā
It was only when he got to his knees and began kissing my belly - when I felt his soft, full lips touch the softer, fuller lobe of my gut - that it finally clicked. The room seemed to spin at a hundred miles an hour as the panic hit me like a bus. I was fucking fat!
I screamed and leapt up faster than either of us was expecting, as I saw Dylan look concerned. āWhatās wrong babe?ā
āWhatās wrong?!ā I yelled. āWhat do you mean whatās wrong?! Look at me Dylan! Iām a fucking blimp!ā I shook my gut for emphasis, which sent wobbling ripples throughout the rest of my body. I even felt it in my armpits, where my plump man-boobs hugged my sides to settle in sagging rolls of fat on my back.
āYesā¦ā Dylan said, matter of factly. āWhatās your point? Are you hungry?ā
āYes Iām fucking starvā No, wait! This is all wrong!ā I panicked, grabbing the photo of us from atop the dresser and pointing to it with my inflated finger. āLook! Iām not supposed to be fat! I was thin!ā
Dylanās concern seemed to grow. Maybe he was finally realising how fucked up this whole thing was. āBabe, I donāt know what to tell you⦠Yeah youāve gained some what since then⦠But you said you were OK with this.ā I furrowed my brow in frustration. Some weight?! What on earth was he talking about? I finally took a look at the photo, which should have shown us posing together at my sisterās wedding, where I expected to see my thin self with my arm around Dylan. My eyes widened in shock as the details of the image registered in my brain.
I was definitely thinner in the photo - by about 100lbs. But at my current size, that was still positively massive. What the fuck was going on? I was still almost three times my usual size in the picture! I felt the colour drain from my face as the room still felt like it was whirling around me. I tried to place the photo back on the dresser, but slipped and knocked it over. Dylan took me by the hand and led me back to the bed.Ā
āHoney,ā he cooed, stroking my round cheek delicately with his strong fingers, before grabbing a handful of the fat under my chin affectionately. āI know this has all happened quickly⦠100lbs in a year is absolutely incredible, especially at your size⦠Itās bound to come as a shock. But youāve been making such good progress,ā he purred, his voice soothing my concerns as he pushed a large wedge of cake past my lips with one hand and shook my giant stomach with the other. I could feel his hardness growing, pressed up against my love handle.
āBut, youāre going to have to get used to it,ā he said, with a surprisingly authoritative tone that seemed out of character. It caused me to stop chewing, just for a second, before I swallowed in a great big gulp. He smirked and fed me another piece. āLike Iāve told you before⦠Youāve still got a lot of growing to do.ā
By the time Iād swallowed the second piece of cake and been fed a third, Iād barely noticed that heād slid his hand under my gut and was sliding it back and forth over my buried member. I knew I should have protested, made him take my concerns seriously, not stopped explaining that this was all wrong until he really, really believed me. But in that moment, my mind was hazy and I chewed mindlessly, lost in pure bliss. Iām still not sure which I enjoyed more: what Dylan was doing to me, or the cake.
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