Obesity research is a hot commodity these days attracting the big bucks. Our research facility fattenings are more regimented then our standard fare at Fat Farm and Blob Site locations, but you can still expect the same effective treatment Industrial Fattening Facilities is committed to providing.
**WARNING, this post contains fetish content to do with wg and immobility, if that's not your cup of tea, kindly move on**
I was asked to do some musing/writing for someone, and I figured I'd post it here! Enjoy!
You'd never have to leave the house my little piggy, I'd have a bed with a feeding trough for you (mostly for decoration, really want to make the piggy feel at home) and a little corner, it'd be all set up so you'd never have to move an inch. Waterproof blankets, a mountain of pillows, and a funnel setup embedded into the wall. Like a hamster cage, it'd have a spout right next to your fat piggy mouth. I'd have to go to work, but I'd always come home with enough food to feed a small village for weeks, though you know it'd all be gone by the end of the day. I'd prepare sweets, fatty meals, the funnel would be full of weight gain shakes and protein drinks full of fat. After getting all settled in, while you whine like a fatass pig and start oinking, I'd come over and just shove food in your face, barely giving you time to chew before stuffing your face more and more. I'd only give you a break to breathe and burp out from all the sugary and unhealthy food you eat. For hours and hours I'd stuff you full, watching your slobby belly grow, folds becoming deeper and more pronounced, with new folds appearing all over. Then, I'd make you try to get up and walk to take a shower, delighting in watching it get more and more difficult as the days go on. Eventually I'd just have to start wiping or hosing you down, your fat legs buried under the massive blob of fat you call a belly. But don't worry piggy, I'd make sure you always have a snack going in your mouth. You'd be constantly growing so it'd be gradual, but the effects would be noticeable. I'd have to get bigger blankets and towels... the floorboards start to creak, more rolls grow, you start getting out of breath easier, and your appetite grows immensely. Finally, I'd reach my goal, you could try to stand up but your chunky legs can't possibly support the massive weight of the rest of your body. You've truly become a trophy, growing bigger and bigger, you're finally... immobile You can't walk, you're helpless, eating out of a funnel constantly unless I'm personally shoving food into you, what previously would stuff you full becomes a light snack. You're truly insatiable, and you love every second of it. All of the labored breathing, the folds, the aching body, the constant need for tummy rubs, and the hunger. the endless hunger. All of it delights you more than anything.
I want to fill your belly with the fattiest, most unhealthy food you can eat, watch your body fight to stay alive while you consume vast amounts of calories, see the fear reflected in your eyes as I push you one step closer to death. Watching you trapped in your own fat as your organs fail—that would be amazing. Only insecure sows are made for that fate.
(Collab between me and boeckman on Deviantart who wrote this amazing story)
“Dude. I thought you said this place would be cool.” Mackenzie Yoon was not impressed. The tall young man stared at the cheesy sign with no expression on his face. He looked out of place on the boardwalk. He was dressed as if he had just stepped out of a gym, just like always.
“Fun,” Trent corrected. “I said it would be fun, Mack. Big difference. If it’s all stupid shit, it’ll still be fun because we can laugh at it.”
The two were an odd pair. Trent was the doer who dragged the stoic jock out to experience the world. He was lean and wiry, and he still dressed exactly the way he used to when he was the class clown in school. He insisted that his ripped jeans were still stylish, and he swore he would wear his trusty Converse until the soles fell apart. Despite his slightly below-average height, Mack could always spot him in a crowd thanks to his signature yellow beanie.
By all accounts, Mack should have been a standard jock. He had played multiple sports throughout school, and he practically had a mini home gym in his apartment. But his reserved nature had alienated him from most of his teammates. Instead, he had gravitated toward his neighbor, who could somehow always convince him to go on weird adventures. At first, it was wandering through the “haunted” woods on the other side of their neighborhood. Once Trent could drive, it was exploring abandoned warehouses, and then after high school, it was random road trips.
But this was more than just a road trip. This was a celebration of their recent graduation from college. Trent had gone away for school, while Mack had stayed close to home. Trent had joked that Mack would be a lost puppy without him, but that’s exactly why Mack didn’t follow his best friend to the big state college. If he ever wanted to try actually dating a dude (he’d only come out to his family and Trent’s family in high school), he needed to do it on his own.
But now, the two were up to their old shenanigans. They were both single and untethered at the moment, and they both needed one big, awesome vacation before they officially went from being students to being cogs in the machine. Trent had planned a road trip taking them in a loop that covered every state in New England. Mack shrugged and said, “Sure, that sounds cool.”
Trent had googled the weirdest sights to see, creepy haunted buildings, and former tourist traps that had passed their prime. That last one had yielded the building that now stood before them. The question was, had it ever been in its prime?
“I thought this was supposed to be a Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” Mack said.
“I said it was like a Ripley’s. But probably weirder. Or worse. Or both. That’s what’s fun about it. Either it’ll surprise us with how wild it is, or we’ll be laughing our asses off at how dumb it is. This is supposed to be some so bad it’s good shit. Just look at that ridiculous sign. ‘Beelieve It!’ Why does it have two Es?”
“It has four Es.”
Trent gave his companion a flat stare. “You know what I meant. Anyway, let’s get our tickets and go in.”
Mack shrugged. “Alright.”
Trent knew that was Mack code for, “Let’s do this. I trust your judgement.”
The building was garish to say the least. The ‘Beelieve It!’ sign had white letters on an eye-searing neon psychedelic swirl, and the façade had diagonal stripes in colors that did not match the sign at all. There was something about the whole thing that was like an optical illusion, as if the building wasn’t quite rectangular. The dimensions almost seemed to shift
depending on where you looked, so that one moment it looked taller, and then it looked wider, and then it looked slanted, like the whole thing was leaning to the right. That part was pretty cool.
There was a ticket booth built into the outside wall, so Trent led the way over. He stepped up to the glass and came face to face with some guy’s chest. He looked up and up until he finally made eye contact with a ridiculously tall teenager. These types of attractions always had high schoolers making some summer money, but usually they were just regular pimply, gawky guys, not freaks of nature.
After they got their tickets, Trent whispered, “So… uh, that kid must be a basketball player, right?”
“He can probably dunk the ball without jumping,” Mack deadpanned. It was an exaggeration, but not by that much.
The lobby was just as wild as the outside. The walls were covered in jagged black and yellow spirals that would make you dizzy if you stared too long. The ticket scanner was another bored teen, but this one was sitting down… on a pair of stools. Trent had never seen anyone so fat.
The kid scanned their tickets and gave a spiel about the self-guided tour in a monotone voice. “World’s Blankest Blanks are in the front. Concessions are in the middle. The mirror tunnel, blacklight maze, land of cryptids, and hall of weird history each branch off from concessions and circle back around to the World’s Blankest. Take as long as you’d like. We’re open ’til 9.”
As they headed toward the first main area, Mack stared at Trent with eyebrows raised as high as they would go. Well, Trent couldn’t actually see Mack’s eyebrows underneath the jock’s unruly black hair, but he knew that facial expression. Trent shrugged and whispered, “Fat guys have to work somewhere, right?”
The two friends made their way to the first main exhibit. It was set up kind of like a weird wax museum. Most of the figures had a platform next to them where you could get your picture taken. Mack at least had no interest in paying for a novelty photo, but he wouldn’t mind posing for some with Trent. He knew his goofy friend would get a real kick out of seeing the results, even if they didn’t purchase them.
The place was not crowded, but there were a few families, couples, and small groups wandering around, interacting with the different exhibits. Mack pointed to a sign touting the “Oldest Man Alive.” The wax figure wore only a little earth-colored toga, and he was stooped with a beard that went nearly down to his waist. There was a spot where you could compare your height with the shriveled figure.
Trent laughed out loud when he spotted the World’s Largest Bear, a stuffed polar bear the size of a Volkswagen bus. Some kids were posing for a photo as if it was chasing them.
“See?” Trent said. “This shit is weird in the best way.”
Mack nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It’s fun.”
Trent got a picture pressing his butt up against the World’s Largest Eggplant. He made Mack pose next to a giant shark that looked like it was out of a sci-fi channel movie.
“Hey, look, it’s your dream boyfriend!” Trent joked, pointing to the World’s Strongest Man. The wax figure looked like it was based on a Photoshopped picture of a bodybuilder, and Trent had a feeling that the original image might be pretty racy. The figure was holding a giant barbell, and there was an identical barbell on the otherwise empty platform next to it. “Go on, test your strength!” Trent laughed.
Mack took a long look at the ridiculously proportioned figure and then back at Trent. “No.” “Aww, man,” Trent huffed. “You’re no fun.”
“One more,” Mack said. “Then we move on. We’ll be back here later anyway.”
That was a fair point. Trent headed toward the hallway leading to the concessions area. There were two last exhibits flanking the passageway, and they gave Trent a weird sense of déjà vu. They were the Tallest Man alive and the Fattest Man Alive. “The kid at the ticket booth was almost this tall,” he told Mack, looking up and up at the wax figure. There was a platform where you could compare your height.
“Even he wasn’t this tall,” Mack replied. “No way this is real.”
“Obviously they’re not real,” Trent laughed. “That’s not the point. The point is how ridiculous they are. Like this one.” He pointed to the Fattest Man Alive. A digital counter on the wall behind the figure read “1047 lbs.” The empty platform next to it was also attached to a digital readout on the wall. “Come on, let’s do this one. I bet the two of us together don’t even weigh as much as his gut. Or one of his legs.”
“Dude. No.” Mack agreed that the weirdness of the exhibits was part of the charm, but this one was extra weird. Someone had put a strangely intense amount of work into making the folds of fat realistic on the wax figure. The figure rose a little taller than Mack, and it was utterly enormous. Impossibly big. More than twice the size of that massive kid scanning tickets in the lobby.
The wax figure wore a little strip of white fabric that went down from its shoulder and tucked under its belly. Mack figured it must be for modesty, but it didn’t really cover anything. And the family jewels were very well hidden anyway. The figure’s belly, complete
with flabby folds, hung all the way down to its dimpled knees. Its hips were somehow even wider than its belly, with love handles and moobs that stuck out equally far. The arms were positioned at a wide angle, not because of a particular pose but because its enormous moobs and huge, flabby arms were fighting for space.
Trent thought it was hilarious. “I think his calves are as big as your waist.”
That was probably true. Mack had maintained a very trim waist despite his wide chest and shoulders. The wax figure’s huge calves hung down, completely obscuring its ankles. Its thighs were twice as wide. It was absurd. “I wanna see Bigfoot,” Mack said. “Let’s just go and head to the cryptid area.”
But Trent held his ground. “You said one more.” He looked up at the “Fattest Man Alive” sign. Like most of the signs, it had a spiral design behind the letters. This one was yellow and blue. It almost seemed to move when he stared at it. “I want to do this one.”
Mack couldn’t go back on his word. He was always honest. He followed Trent’s gaze up to the sign. The yellow and blue almost seemed to turn clockwise behind the black letters. It made him dizzy. “Fine. One picture. I’ll pose however you want.”
Trent pumped his fist and let out a little “Yes!” Louder, he said, “Alright, let’s see if this scale thing is fake or if it gets our weight right. “Oh, and do a muscle pose. Look really serious. That’ll make it funnier.”
Mack always looked serious. He stepped up on the pedestal with Trent following close behind. He raised his arms up and flexed, straining the fabric of his t-shirt.
Trent glanced to his side and then hit a complimentary pose, curling his fists and doing his best to flex his nonexistent muscles. He laughed as he stepped off the platform. “This’ll be hilarious. Oh look! The kiosk is right here!” He bounded over to see their photo. Mack peered over his shoulder.
“Look at this!” Trent laughed as the photo came up on the screen. “This is exactly what I wanted! Two skinny guys–”
“One skinny, one muscular,” Mack cut in.
“–and one totally impossibly fat guy. “Look.” He pointed at Mack’s image. “Your shirt’s riding up so that your Adonis belt is showing. That makes the huge guy look even more ridiculous. Can you imagine anyone even half his size?”
“He’s like ten of you.”
“I’m not that small,” Trent pouted. “Hey, look.” He moved his finger above Mack. “There’s our weight. 349. Think that’s right?”
Mack nodded. “I’m just over 200 ‘cuz I’m tall, and I’ve got these.” He flexed his biceps again. You’re probably just under 150 ‘cuz you’re short, and you don’t have any muscles.” He pointed to Trent’s image in the photo.
“Hey, my shirt’s just hiding my arms.” Trent tugged at his long-sleeve jean shirt. “If I took this shirt off, we’d both be in t-shirts, and then…”
“Then we’d see how skinny your arms really are. Just leave it on, bud.”
Trent didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop examining the photo on the screen. Mack looked so good, the way his shirt rode up, and his Adonis belt disappeared into his baggy gray sweats. And the way his shirt strained over his muscles, and that coolly aloof expression. How was he single?
Mack’s eyes were glued to the screen too, but he was doing mental math. “According to the scale, that guy is three of us.”
“Huh?”
“It would take three of you and three of me to weigh as much as the fattest man is supposed to weigh.” He looked down at Trent’s trim waist and skinny legs. “He’s unrealistically huge, and you’re…”
“I get it,” Trent huffed. “Okay, wanna go get some food? And then we can see Bigfoot.” “Cool.”
The stripes, squiggles and spirals theme continued into the concessions area. There was a surprising number of different booths, each with different types of food and drink.
One had a bunch of different types of loaded fries. Another had hot dogs and brats with several fried sides. Trent’s eyes were pulled toward the one with deep fried Oreos and candy bars. Mack drifted toward the one with a milkshake machine.
Each booth’s sign and décor were as eye-searing and trippy as the building’s façade. Trent stepped up to the one labeled “You Love it Deep Fried!” The blue and purple squiggles on the sign seemed to bend and wave when he looked at it. God, he was hungry. But he wasn’t sure what he actually wanted. He pulled out his wallet and opened up his mouth to speak, and…
The clerk, a chubby kid who wasn’t nearly the size of the ticket scanner, was handing him his order. “Here’s your mega hash brown, sir. Enjoy.”
Trent robotically reached out and grabbed the wax paper wrapper. It had a black and yellow swirl that drew his eyes into the center. “When did I order…?”
Trent had to work to tear his eyes away from the colorful wrapper. He took a bite of the fried treat, and his eyes nearly rolled up in the back of his head. That was damn good. Perfectly salty and potato-y.
“Dude.” Mack snapped Trent back to reality. He was holding a big yellow cup. “Ready?” He jerked his head toward the doorway labeled “Land of Cryptids.”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” The doorway turned out to lead to an elevator. As the elevator door opened, Trent took another bite of his snack, and Mack slurped on his milkshake. The moment the door closed behind them, the lights started flashing different colors. “Uh, I guess we'll get a mini light show while we’re in here,” he joked. And then the lights went out, and the elevator was plunged into darkness.
Trent paused, misstepped as he crossed the threshold into the hallway, and Mack nearly walked right into him.
“Move,” the taller young man said.
But Trent didn’t. Instead, he turned back to look at the inside of the elevator. When did the door open? He must have zoned out during the boring, uneventful elevator ride. As he finally moved enough to let his friend out of the elevator, he looked down at the untouched
fried snack in his hand. He took a bite of the giant hash brown, and his eyes nearly rolled up in the back of his head. That was damn good.
“Dude, how many calories is that?” Mack asked as if his milkshake wasn’t even worse. “We had lunch before we got here.”
“Look, I know I’m not as skinny as I used to be,” Trent snapped. “But I’m not counting calories on vacation.” Trent wasn’t big or anything. He just wasn’t a stick anymore like he’d been in school. He wondered why he’d worn these jeans today. He hardly had a belly, but the waistband dug into his middle.
Beside him, Mack hypocritically slurped his dense milkshake and gave an exaggerated sigh. “What flavor is that?” Trent asked. “Strawberry?”
“Duh.”
Mack had very specific tastes. Once he decided on a favorite flavor, that was his only flavor. Strawberry milkshakes were a weakness for him. He put a hand on his slightly soft middle. Those milkshakes were probably part of the reason he didn’t have a six-pack. He unconsciously flexed his arm muscles. He might not be lean, but he was built.
Trent reached toward his friend. “Can I have a taste?”
Mack snatched the cup away from Trent’s grasp and held it close to his chest. “No.” “Oh, come on. One sip.”
“Get your own. We’ll pass the concessions again later.”
“Fine,” Trent huffed. It was just for show. He knew how much his best friend loved a strawberry milkshake. He wasn’t actually surprised that Mack was getting possessive of the sweet treat. He resisted the urge to make a jab about how Mack should have fewer milkshakes if he didn’t want a huge gut. If he did that, Mack would just call attention to the fact that Trent’s belly was looking kinda round these days.
The Land of Cryptids was a long curving hallway that constantly sloped slightly downwards, gradually taking them back down from the second floor to the first. As they walked through the exhibits, Trent munched on the candy bar, and Mack slurped on his shake. There were
blurry bigfoot photos and a model of a yeti. There was a whole section for the Loch Ness Monster and other huge creatures that lived in the various lakes and seas of the world. Now this was the stupid shit they were here for.
Trent polished off the last bite of his snack. That really hit the spot. He went to throw the wrapper away, but the yellow and black swirl caught his eye again. He could swear it was twisting into a spiral that turned and turned and turned…
Trent felt pressure building up in his stomach, but then there was a ‘ping,’ and he felt better. “Dude,” Mack said. “You popped a button again.”
Trent blushed. He knew his jeans were getting tight, but he didn’t think they were that bad. But he’d gained a fair bit of weight since high school. He didn’t just have a belly. A soft roll drooped over the top half of his waistband. When his mom saw him before graduation, she had not so diplomatically said he was getting chunky.
Trent glanced at his taller friend. At least he wasn’t the only one who had sort of let himself go. As they walked through the rest of the hallway, Mack kept having to pull his t-shirt down in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the bottom of his own little belly.
After the duo passed a bunch of stuffed jackalopes, they found themselves back in the circular wax museum. On this side, there were replicas of the supposed bakers of the World’s Largest Pie. The two passed through the exhibits, checking out a few they hadn’t seen yet on their way toward the concessions and the entrances to the other wings.
Trent felt like he needed one more funny photo op before they moved on, although he was a little self-conscious about photos lately. He spotted one exhibit that they’d bypassed the first time. “Hey, we’ve gotta do that one,” he told Mack, pointing at an enormous wax figure that was supposedly on a scale. The sign had a cool, almost hypnotic spiral design.
“Dude. No.”
But Trent was not one to give up easily. The supposed Fattest Man Alive looked totally ridiculous. And he saw the perfect opportunity to pull Mack in. “That guy’s doing it.” The guy in question was a wavy-haired blond twink around their age who was there with his family. “He’s cute, right? Is he your type?”
Mack didn’t answer. The guy was pretty good-looking, but he was really, really skinny. Even if he was Mack’s type, the stocky jock wasn’t so confident ever since he had started putting on weight. But the blond was cocky with a toothy grin, and he held Mack’s eye as he posed next to the enormous wax figure. If the digital numbers on the wall were accurate, he was a tiny fraction of the fattest man’s weight.
“Fine,” Mack muttered. “Let’s do this.” He brushed past the blond twink as they traded places. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught the guy glancing back at him.
“Show off your muscles,” Trent said as he joined Mack on the platform. “Make it silly.”
Mack did not do silly. But he knew if he just flexed, Trent would probably find it hilarious. Especially if the pose made his gut stick out. That thought made Mack blush, but he hit the double-bicep pose anyway.
Trent eagerly hopped off the platform and stood behind the blond, waiting for his turn at the kiosk. Mack followed. He heard the twink say something about needing an afternoon snack. Once Trent had access to the screen, he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Damn,” he murmured. “I forgot my jeans were unbuttoned.”
Mack peered over his friend’s shoulder. The unbuttoned jeans were barely noticeable. Trent was freaking out over nothing. His little gut mostly covered the front of the waistband anyway.
Mack was more concerned about the rather large strip of gut hanging out from under his shirt. It was pale and rounder than he had realized. “Shit,” he muttered. Then Mack’s eyes went to the digital number behind their slightly chubby forms. “Dude, we’re 432,” he said.
Trent was quick to dismiss it. “That’s both of us together. Sure, we’re not so small anymore, but that’s just college life catching up with us. It’s no biggie. Pun intended. At least we’ll never be like…” he gestured to the wax figure. “That.”
And with that, the two headed off toward the concessions. Mack’s stomach growled.
Mack stared at all the trippy signs, not wanting to choose. So many things looked good. Soft-serve ice cream and giant cookies and huge bags of candy… And then Trent was walking up to him holding a familiar yellow cup and what looked like a churro, and Mack
was holding a bag of Twizzlers in one hand and a sprinkle sugar cookie in the other. Weird. He must have zoned out waiting for his food. “What flavor?” Mack asked his shorter friend.
“Chocolate peanut butter,” Trent replied.
“Gross.”
Trent just laughed. How someone with such a sweet tooth didn’t like chocolate and peanut butter was beyond him. “Alright, where are we heading? Weird history? Hall of mirrors? Maze?”
The stocky jock shrugged and made a noncommittal noise as he took a big bite of his hot dog.
“Alright, weird history it is.”
The hall was pretty boring. There were a few wax figures, but it was mostly just pictures and plaques. Trent found his delicious churro and shake a lot more interesting than reading about a bear carrying ammunition in World War II. He opened up the lid of the shake and dipped the churro right in. There was one kind of interesting section on the history of optical illusions. It had a blurb about the Magic Eye picture craze in the 90s, and there was a huge Magic Eye poster on the wall.
“I never see it,” Mack told him.
“You just have to unfocus your eyes.” Trent took a few steps back and pulled Mack over to stand next to him. “Now, try to cross your eyes, and then completely relax your eyes. Don’t try to actually look at the picture.”
Mack humored his friend even though it never worked for him. He did his best to follow Trent’s instructions. The colors and squiggles started to blur, and he could almost see something. It sorta looked like…
“You saw it, right?” Trent asked as he shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “It was an ice cream cone.”
Mack could swear he had seen something, but he didn’t think it was that. “Whatever you say.” He popped the last bite of his first cookie into his mouth and prepared to start the
second one. He let out a small belch and unsuccessfully tried to pull his shirt down. He wasn’t sure why he’d worn such an old shirt. It stretched around his love handles and left a fair amount of his lower belly exposed even when it wasn’t riding up.
Mack wasn’t the most in-shape guy, even if he did try to lift weights occasionally. He’d been stocky but fit as a teenager, but that had evaporated pretty quickly in college. He’d blown up pretty fast once he was living on campus.
At least he wasn’t alone. Trent’s belly was trying to escape his shirt too, and his jeans were painted onto his ass and thighs. The shorter guy stuffed some more fries into his mouth and took a step forward, and Mack heard a loud rip.
“Dude, you’ve got a hole in your jeans.”
“Mack,” Trent responded, “they’re ripped jeans. They’re supposed to have holes in them.” “Not right in the ass.”
Trent blushed and reached behind himself. The seam had pulled completely apart at the thickest part of his butt. He knew he’d put on some weight, but it was a lot worse than he thought. “It’s… not that noticeable, is it?”
“I can see what color undies you put on today.”
“We’re grown ups now. Just call them briefs.”
“Fine. I can see your red briefs.”
Trent started to panic, but then he caught sight of that Magic Eye picture again, and for some reason that calmed him down. “It’s… It’s fine. Right?”
Mack peered really hard at his friend. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
Trent breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool. Let’s keep moving.”
Mack followed his friend, putting one thick thigh in front of the other. He kept having to pull at his sweats, which were riding down. He felt a bit self-conscious, but he still shamelessly took big bites of his second sugar cookie, quickly making it disappear.
Before long, they were back in the middle, walking between wax figures on their way back toward concessions to pick their next path. They had already seen most of the exhibits in the room, but one extra ridiculous one caught Trent’s eye. He felt like he’d seen it out of the corner of his eye, but he hadn’t really looked at it.
“Check that one out!” he said with a laugh, pointing to the Fattest Man Alive. We should get a picture next to him.”
“Dude. No.” Mack looked down at his flabby gut. Taking a photo like that would be a celebration of fatness. He wasn’t totally ashamed of his size, but he still hoped he could lose a few pounds at some point.
“Oh, come on. You’re no fun,” Trent whined. As he spoke, someone else stepped onto the platform for a photo. The digital scale readout blinked and changed from 0 to 187. “Hey, didn’t we see that guy earlier?”
Mack took a look at the blond guy as he stepped off the pedestal. His shirt was pretty tight around his slightly rounded midsection. Mack vaguely remembered seeing him elsewhere in the museum, or whatever this place was. He was kinda cute.
“Do it for me,” Trent pleaded. “If you do a muscle pose like you used to do in high school, it’ll be hilarious.”
Mack touched the bit of bare belly that stuck out from under his shirt. The things he did in the name of friendship. “Okay, but you’ve gotta hold your belly just like the statue guy.”
“That’s the spirit!”
The two did their photo op, and then they popped over to the kiosk to see the results. It was kinda funny. Mack’s muscle pose looked silly when his arm muscles were clearly covered in a layer of fat. And his shirt rose up to expose his belly button. Trent had a fair amount of visible belly, too. And his lower belly fat had pushed open his fly, revealing a sliver of his red briefs.
“Damn,” Mack breathed, looking at the number in the photo. “524.” He took a minute to do the mental math. “We’re half his size.”
Trent laughed it off. “Combined. And anyway, he’s not real. Can you imagine seeing someone who was actually that big?”
Mack shrugged. “Guess not.”
“Exactly. Now come on, let’s go do the maze.”
“Isn’t that just for the kids?”
“I hope not. I thought it sounded cool. The blacklight thing should make it more interesting.”
Trent led his friend into the concessions area. The plan was to just walk right through. After all, they had already stopped for snacks twice. Trent had gotten a giant hash brown and a milkshake and a churro and…
The crazy-colored signs stopped him in his tracks. It all looked so good. One more snack couldn’t hurt, right? He wasn’t exactly little. He had to feed the tank. He unconsciously patted his belly. Yeah, he could stand to eat a little more, especially if it was deep-fried…
Trent didn’t really have enough hands to carry the loaded fries, mozzarella sticks and extra-large soda he’d just been handed. He looked over and saw that Mack was having a similar issue with his apple hand pie, and king-size Snickers and his second strawberry milkshake of the afternoon. Well, they would find a way to make it work. Probably by scarfing some of their treats down before they moved on.
Mack pointed to some small tables on the side of the room. “Eat now, maze after?”
“You read my mind,” Trent replied. He followed behind Mack as his friend shifted his bulk and headed over to the nearest table. When Mack leaned slightly forward to set his things down, Trent said, “Whoa, man. Crack kills.” A rather large strip of the big guy’s wide rear was showing.
Mack half-heartedly tried to adjust his sweats, but it didn’t do much. His expansive backside blended right into his back fat and love handles, so his pants were always riding down. Ever since he passed 300 pounds, he’d stopped really caring how his pants fit.
Trent set his own things down, noting with amusement that even the little round tables matched the psychedelic swirl theme. As he settled his own hefty butt into the chair, he lamented that the seating wasn’t a little more accommodating for big guys. Not that he was as big as Mack, but he had an awful lot of weight in his lower midsection, specifically his lower belly and rear. As he sat down, his mostly exposed belly spilled into his lap. If he kept snacking like this, he’d be over 300 like his friend before he knew it.
The two didn’t talk much as they ate. Well, Mack was always quiet except for the loud sounds of munching and slurping, punctuated by the occasional belch. As Trent finished the last of his chicken fingers and set the empty tray on top of the empty fry tray, he wondered how he’d gotten into this cycle of overeating. Sure, he loved food, and he was partial toward anything fried, but he was already a big guy, and he was headed toward being massive if he didn’t do something soon.
Trent took a long swig of his soda, eyes still focused on the remains of his large snack. The swirls on the tabletop seemed to move under the empty tray. Purple and blue and green filled his vision.
Trent set down his cup and let out a loud, unselfconscious belch. Mack smirked. Trent looked again at the empty containers that had piled up on his side of the table: a fry tray and a chicken-finger tray and an onion ring tray. Whenever he thought about how much food he could eat, he felt a weird sense of pride. He grabbed his last treat, a deep-fried Oreo.
Mack slid his chairs back – one for each ass cheek – so he’d have room to stand up. He wondered why places like this insisted on such tiny chairs. Couldn’t anyone accommodate a 400-pound man? He put one hand on the table and braced one against the wall as he hefted himself up. “You ready?” he asked Trent.
Mack’s slightly smaller friend was still gaining his balance. Trent claimed that his ass and belly evened each other out, making it easier for him to move around. Mack thought Trent wobbled just as much as anyone who was north of 350. For half a second, Mack was surprised to see Trent’s bare arms. Wasn’t he wearing a long-sleeve shirt? But then he remembered. Trent had cut the sleeves off of that jean shirt ages ago when his arms stopped fitting in the sleeves. He liked that thing too much to get rid of it, even if it hardly even counted as a vest these days.
“Let’s go,” Trent said once they had cleaned up their very large mess. “Time to check out this maze.”
“It had better not be for kids, or we won’t fit,” Mack quipped.
Trent just chuckled, hiding his very real worry that Mack might get stuck somewhere in the dark maze. The taller guy was awfully big both back to front and side to side, so if there were any tight corners, it could pose a problem.
Trent found the entrance, a big black door labeled “Otherworldly Maze!” in neon pink, purple, and yellow-green. He opened it up, and sure enough, the other side was completely dark except for the blue-purple glow emitting from a few blacklights that illuminated small corners of the floor and ceiling. When the door closed behind Mack, they were shrouded in darkness except for the glow of their own clothes.
“You’re blue!” Trent laughed, pointing to Mack’s sweatpants, which glowed a faint blue, and his t-shirt, which looked almost cerulean. Of course, there was a huge gap between the garments where Mack’s belly spilled out of his shirt and covered almost the whole crotch of his pants. Trent’s own clothes looked almost black except for his jean shirt, which also glowed a faint blue.
Trent took the lead as always. The first section was easy. It was just there to acclimate them. There weren’t any dead ends, just corners that would take you by surprise if you weren’t carefully watching the glow of each blacklight to look for corners. But then it turned into a proper maze with multiple choices. Trent walked straight into a wall, and Mack’s soft belly bumped right into Trent’s plush lower back.
“Dude, watch it,” Mack said as if he wasn’t the one who had rear-ended the other.
After that, there wasn’t room for the two big guys to switch spots, so they just shuffled around in place, and Mack took the lead. He was more methodical than Trent, and they seemed to be making good progress. Just as Mack was wondering how much more maze there was, he wandered into a whole new section. Here, there were colorful neon spirals on the walls that glowed neon in the blacklight.
The wall designs should have made things easier since they made the walls more visible, but instead, they were disorienting. Mack would pass a green swirl and a pink one and belatedly realize that there might be an opening in the wall between them. And with nothing to look at except the vivid spirals, his eyes were playing tricks on him. At one point, he was
so focused on a spiral in front of him that he walked right into the wall. His expansive belly and massive moobs squished right into the spiral.
“Dead end,” Mack muttered. “You’ve gotta lead again.” He huffed and puffed as he turned himself around in a half-circle to follow Trent. He shuffled along with heavy footfalls. His hand unconsciously went up to one of his moobs. His shirt had rolled all the way up to expose them. He thought about trying to pull the too-small shirt down to at least cover his chest, but then he thought, nah. It was what it was.
Trent also felt disoriented by the colorful patterns in his field of vision. Every time he stared too long at one of the spirals, he felt a little slower and heavier. But that was just his imagination, of course. He was, after all, slow and heavy. He wasn’t getting hypnotized into thinking he couldn’t move fast, he was just 450 pounds. His movement was perfectly normal for his size.
Trent had honestly worried that the maze would be way too easy, but it was actually an interesting challenge. And not just because of his size. If anything, the place had done a good job of making the maze accommodating toward big guys like him and Mack. It never felt cramped except when they ran into a dead end and had to maneuver their combined hundreds of pounds of fat back toward the correct path.
“That was kind of awesome,” Trent said as he opened the door back into the side of the wax figure room. He shielded his eyes as he gingerly stepped back into the light. Well, as gingerly as a hefty guy like him could.
“Yeah. It was cool.” Mack had to pause, put his hand against the wall, and catch his breath as the door closed behind him. Only Trent could talk him into doing this much walking in a single day. He was not an active guy, to say the least. Mack took a good look at his more adventurous friend. “Dude, your moobs are out.”
“Said the pot to the kettle,” Trent laughed. He reached out and poked Mack’s exposed chest. “You never put those things away.”
Mack felt… something… when his friend touched his huge, heavy chest. His belly hung low, and his ass and thighs were thick and wide, and his arms were big and flabby, but his chest might be his favorite part of his size. Sure, the flab pushed out to the sides, getting in the way of his arms, but it was so soft and sensitive.
Mack pulled his hand away from the wall and psyched himself up to do some more walking. “Alright, let’s go.”
The two young men really took their time moving between the various exhibits. Trent always claimed he moved slowly because Mack got winded so easily, but Mack knew Trent couldn’t move fast if he tried.
“I’m glad that maze was fun,” Trent said, “because this room has been pretty disappointing. There’s nothing all that shocking.”
Mack nodded in agreement. “That one looks really dumb.” He pointed at the World’s Strongest Man, which was pretty huge but not weird or anything. A massively built shirtless man in ripped shorts stepped onto the pedestal next to the wax figure and effortlessly lifted the prop barbell.
“You’d think they’d exaggerate the proportions at least a little,” Trent agreed. He spotted a wax figure that he’d apparently missed until now. “And look at that one. It says Fattest Man Alive, but he’s just a little on the large side.”
Mack shook his head. The supposed scale readout on the wall said the guy was barely over a thousand pounds. That was the craziest number they could come up with? “Lame,” he said out loud.
But Mack’s attention stayed on the Fattest Man exhibit when a cute blond guy stepped up onto the empty pedestal for a photo. He was pretty small, barely 300 pounds, and only a bit of his belly was visible below the hem of his shirt, but at least the shirt was skin-tight. His belly jiggled an awful lot as he stepped down off the platform. Damn. Mack was starting to feel things.
“Let’s do that one,” Trent said, breaking Mack out of his reverie. “Just to show how stupid it is.”
“Dude. No.”
“Aww, why not?”
“Will we both fit?” It was a valid question. There was a circular railing around the platform. It might fit one regular-sized guy or a couple skinny guys, but two regular-sized guys was a stretch.
Trent looked up at the Fattest Man Alive sign with its familiar yellow and blue swirls. “We’ve gotta do it, man. We’ll fit.” He glanced dubiously at the small pedestal. “I think. Besides… Don't you want to show off?” He jerked his head toward the blond, who was heading to the photo kiosk but kept glancing in their direction.
Mack’s usually stoic face slid into a smirk. His hand unconsciously went to his round belly. He was probably the biggest guy in the room. He could show that little blond what a real man looked like. “Fine. Me first, then together.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Before Mack stepped up, he took another look at the wax figure. The guy was pretty big, just not unrealistically so. Whereas Mack and Trent’s guts covered their crotches, the Fattest Man’s belly covered his thighs. His moobs draped low and extended far to his sides in a way that made Mack jealous. His legs were a whole lot bigger than Mack’s, and even his neck was thicker. But he still felt like only a moderate exaggeration of Mack’s perfectly average body.
Mack sucked in his gut the best he could to get between the railings and onto the platform. It didn’t do much, but it was enough. Still the metal railings pressed into his gut and love handles as he passed through. Once he was fully on the platform, he let out a heavy sigh. As he put his arms down at his sides – well, as far down as they would go – his straining sleeves rolled up over the thick pudge of his flabby arms. At the same time, the hem of his shirt finished rolling all the way up over his chest, bunching up just below his neck.
Mack grabbed a moob in one hand and a handful of belly in the other. Those were the signs of a man who could eat. Once the photo snapped, he gestured for Trent to join him.
Mack watched his shorter friend make his way up the ramp, facing similar problems. Trent’s lower belly swayed side to side just a little with every step. He tried turning sideways to get past the railings, but the size of his round, partially exposed ass just made it worse. Although he weighed less than Mack, his fat pooled around the middle of his shorter frame, making him just as big around as the taller young man.
Mack tried to scoot back to make room for Trent, but his thick ass ran right into the railing behind him. As Trent put his full weight onto the platform, standing belly to belly with his friend, his whole front seemed to soften and droop just a little more. Trent did his best to rotate to face the camera, but it was tough work.
As Trent slowly turned himself around, Mack noticed just how many holes Trent had in his jeans. Sure, all of Trent’s jeans had holes where the seams were splitting apart, but Trent’s thighs looked like sausages that had popped big holes in the casings. Trent finally got himself repositioned, and Mack averted his eyes from the very large display of crack between Trent’s low-riding jeans and his tiny jean shirt/vest.
By the time the camera flashed, Trent’s partially bare ass was pressing right into the folds of Mack’s belly. Now they just had to get off of this stupid platform – it was definitely only made for one person – so they could see their photo. The only problem was, Trent was completely wedged in between the front railing and Mack’s round, squishy body.
“Suck in,” Trent instructed. “I can’t move.”
Mack didn’t think he had even another inch to back up, but he tried. The results were not pretty. He leaned back too far, nearly losing his balance. While most of his weight was in his front, his love handles, back fat, and upper arms were not lightweight. He raised his arms up, waving frantically to regain his balance. As he got back a little bit of stability, one of his hands grazed his moob, and it just stayed there. He started absently fondling his very large nipple. God, that felt good.
Meanwhile, Trent had a brainwave. He could use the railing and work with it instead of against it. He grabbed his expansive belly and hefted it as high as he could. On his third attempt, he managed to slide the lower roll of flab over the railing. That cleared several inches for him to step forward, leaning his bulk over the surprisingly sturdy metal rail.
Still draping his flab over the railing, he inched sideways, carefully sliding his bulk off of the platform. Soon he was standing on the little ramp, free from the confines of the pedestal. He wobbled his way forward, feeling his jiggly fat shake as usual.
Now Mack just had to get off the platform. He had gotten on, so he could get off. Right? But he could swear the railing closed tighter around his bulk than before. Weird. He got up to the front and braced his hand on the railing, turning slightly sideways. There was nothing
doing. The railing was going to seriously dig into both his belly and his love handle. Good thing he was so soft and squishy.
Mack huffed as he waddled down the ramp to catch up with his friend. The blond was done checking out his photo at the kiosk, and now he was not so subtly watching Mack and Trent as they made their way to the kiosk.
Mack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “The blond guy’s watching you,” Trent whispered. “He’s good-looking, right? Is he your type?”
“He’s kinda little,” Mack pointed out. The blond was barely over 300 pounds. Not skinny, but definitely on the smaller side.
“Look, I’m just sayin’ maybe you should give him your number. You never put yourself out there. What do you think? Would you date him?”
Maybe if the guy gained a couple hundred pounds, Mack thought. He just shrugged noncommittally. He made his way over to the kiosk and peered over Trent’s shoulder. “Damn. We look good.”
Trent had to agree. He had a sexy crease that went across the lower part of his belly, folding in at the navel. Mack loomed large behind him. The taller young man took up so much space. How was he single?
“Look at that,” Trent said, pointing to the digital number behind them. “1136. How are they gonna call that wax figure the fattest man if two regular guys are each more than half his size?”
Mack shook his head. “Beats me.”
“Alright, what next?” Trent asked. “We still have to do the mirror tunnel, right?” “Dude. That means more walking.”
“Yeah, that’s usually what you do in museums,” Trent responded.
Mack hefted his huge, jiggly belly. “Do I look like a guy who walks around all afternoon?”
“You look like a guy who sits around on his ass eating sweets. But I’ve gotta make sure you get out of the house sometimes.”
Mack gestured to their surroundings. They were definitely not in a house. “Mission accomplished. Now let’s go.”
Trent wouldn’t let it go. “Look, I’m feeling kinda winded too. Let’s sit down for a bit, and then we can decide.”
Mack knew better than to argue. Once Trent made up his mind, he wasn’t going to back down. And Mack did need to sit as soon as possible. He was not built for this much activity. Trent started shuffling toward the concessions area, and Mack followed behind. For once, they bypassed the food stands and went straight to the tables. One had bigger, sturdier chairs that felt made just for them.
Mack dropped his weight into the chair with a grunt. He was not standing up anytime soon. As usual, his belly engulfed his lap, and his huge chest sat heavily on his stomach. He absently rubbed the crease between his moob and his belly. Across from him, Trent took off his beanie and dabbed at his sweaty forehead. He wasn’t any more built for walking than Mack was, even if he pretended otherwise.
A loud belch tore through the room. Mack turned to see the cute blond, who wasn’t quite as small as Mack had thought before. He had some meat on his bones after all. His big, round belly was mostly exposed, as was only right for a bigger guy. And his pants were barely holding on over his thick thighs and massive ass. Mack felt a familiar stirring.
Trent smirked as he watched his friend get completely distracted by the heavy blond. “So you do have a type,” he chuckled.
Mack blushed, which was very uncharacteristic for him. He watched as the blond stood up and headed toward the entrance for the mirror tunnel. His eyes stayed on that fat ass as it swayed away.
Mack yawned. He’d done too much walking for his nearly 600-pound body. He heaved himself up, spreading his thick thighs wide and pushing off of the table. “Alright, let’s go. Dinner time.”
But Trent noted that his friend was still staring in the direction of the bottom-heavy blond. “Come on, big guy. We’ve gotta do the mirrors.”
“I thought we agreed this place was lame.” Mack took a couple small steps toward the main hall and the exit.
Trent wasn’t ready to give up. “So we have to end on a high note.” He brazenly slapped his friend’s belly, watching the ripples spread across the wide surface. “I’ll buy you a milkshake.”
Mack’s stomach growled. He looked back down at the table with its mesmerizing swirls…
Mack was sitting down, taking the last gulp of his strawberry milkshake. “Thanks again for the shake,” he said.
Trent mumbled something in response, but it was unintelligible because his mouth was full of funnel cake. He was pretty sure he’d gotten one of every fried treat they offered here. The two quickly polished off their small snacks and got ready for the final leg of the tour. They shuffled toward the door, moving slowly and deliberately. They both had a tendency to misjudge their size, knocking into chairs or trash cans with their hips or bellies.
The door led to an elevator that went one floor down. Apparently, they were serious when they called it a tunnel. Luckily, the elevator was plenty big enough for both of them. Mack glanced at the capacity out of habit. 2,500 pounds. They could fit one more regular-sized adult – or maybe two skinny ones – and be fine.
The elevator door opened into a brightly lit space that started as a relatively narrow space completely lined with mirrors before opening up into a wide space further ahead. Trent maneuvered himself out of the elevator, scooting one tree trunk thigh in front of the other. The first few mirrors were completely flat, just showing the pair of very round men ambling down the hallway. Then they got to the silly stuff.
Mack huffed a little chuckle when he saw himself with absurdly wide hips and a relatively narrow chest. The next mirror had a pretty much opposite shape, making his moobs look extra huge and his legs look impossibly skinny.
“Check this one out!” Trent laughed, pointing to a mirror that made their bodies look really compact with huge, stretched out heads.
The hall opened up into a larger space that split in two at the far end. The warped mirrors did all sorts of funny things to their reflections. On the other side of the rounded space, the blond from before was taking the lefthand path. Mack’s breath caught. That ass was so… big. The guy’s pants were fighting a losing battle. It was a great look on him.
Trent nudged his friend. “Wanna follow him?”
But not long after, they heard, “Ugh, dead end” from somewhere up ahead, and the blond came waddling back. He locked eyes with Mack, and then he looked down at Mack’s impressively large body. “Don’t bother trying to go that way,” he said. “It gets really narrow really fast. You would hardly fit.”
Mack took that as a compliment. He nodded and said, “Thanks.” The blond headed for the other path.
“That’s it?” Trent whispered. “Thanks?”
Mack tilted his head and shrugged.
That was not the right answer. Trent shooed his friend forward. “Go. Follow him.”
Mack did as instructed. It was useless to argue once Trent made a decision. Besides, Mack was more than happy to follow that perfectly wide, round ass. The only problem was, the blond was a bit smaller and a lot faster than Mack. Still, the huge, heavy guy moved as quickly as he was able.
Trent walked behind his friend, laughing internally at how relatively fast Mack could move with the right motivation. Usually, Trent only saw Mack go that fast if there was a promise of candy.
The path split again, and Trent heard a quiet “Shit” in front of him. Mack must have already lost track of the blond. “Go left,” Trent said. “The first path was right, so it’s probably not right again.”
They turned to the left, and Trent noticed that the mirrors on this path weren’t warped. They all looked flat. Trent gaped at his reflection. The first mirror showed him with his scruffy hair
looking all messy and no yellow beanie to be found. He frantically reached for his head to make sure his favorite hat was still in place. It was. What kind of crazy illusion was that?
Mack was looking at the mirrors on the other side, equally confused. One mirror showed him with a tattoo on his huge belly. At first, he thought the “tattoo” was drawn directly onto the mirror, but when he grabbed his gut and shook, the tattoo moved and wobbled. When he moved to the next mirror, the tattoo was gone.
Trent stared at a mirror trying to figure out what looked so weird about his reflection. Finally, it dawned on him. It made him look at least as tall as Mack, maybe an inch taller. That was weird. Right?
“Dude,” Mack called out, “this mirror makes my tits look extra huge. Like, extra extra.”
“Lemme see,” Trent said, turning around. But when he looked in the same mirror as Mack, he didn’t see anything weird. Sure, Mack’s chest fell over his belly in massive, heavy folds, but that wasn’t at all unusual. “Looks normal to me,” he told his friend. “What’s weird is…” He was about to say how weird it was that he looked taller than Mack, but he’d finally
beaten out his friend’s height when he had that late growth spurt senior year of high school. “What’s weird?” Mack asked.
“Huh?” Trent had forgotten what he was talking about. He looked around. “Shit. How did we not notice we were at a dead end?”
The two tall, obese young men slowly made their way back to the most recent split in the path. They paused to catch their breath. Maybe Mack had been onto something when he said they’d done enough walking for the afternoon. But it was too late to turn back.
This time, Trent took the lead. Thankfully, this section seemed to just snake around in curves rather than branching off. It had more of those seemingly plain mirrors that showed impossible illusions. One made Trent look shorter than his friend, although the next showed him several inches taller than Mack like normal. Trent loved how much his size – both height and width – made him stand out in a crowd.
One mirror somehow made their shirts disappear. Another made Trent’s belly look like it hung almost to his knees. That couldn’t be right. He reached under his belly just to make sure he could still reach the unbuttoned crotch of his pants. He could, just barely.
They came around a bend, and the next mirror really threw Trent for a loop. He looked… skinny. Utterly tiny. His shirt went all the way down his torso, covering his whole flat stomach. Who dressed like that? And yet, there was something oddly familiar about the image, something that tickled his brain.
Trent spotted Mack’s reflection in that mirror, and he really short-circuited. In the crazy warped reality of the mirror, Mack was… muscular. Like, with pecs and biceps and stuff. Just about the only part of the reflection that looked like the real Mack was the unruly black hair. Suddenly it hit him. He knew with absolute certainty that somewhere out there in the multiverse, there was a Mack who didn’t get big like a normal guy. A Mack who dieted to stay lean and who worked out every day. A Mack who only ate sweets when he was splurging.
And that Mack just might be friends with a stick-thin Trent who didn’t have an ounce of belly fat. Maybe there was a world out there where most guys just weren’t soft and fat. He wondered what that would feel like…
“Dude,” Mack said, breaking Trent out of his thoughts. “Check this out. I look huge.”
Trent turned to see the mirror Mack was looking at, and Mack did look huge. So did Trent. He laughed, and Mack gave him a questioning glance. What was more absurd, having a belly almost down to his knees, or having no belly at all? There was no question. Trent couldn’t imagine ever being skinny. He looked over at his best friend, whose belly and moobs took up most of his body. Mack, muscular? It was a crazy thought.
Trent shuffled forward to the next mirror. This one showed their bellies almost down to their knees too. It also showed them in shorts that were almost completely hidden by their bellies. Finally, they must be getting to the end of the mirror maze. They were back to mirrors that didn’t show any sort of warped reflection. They looked perfectly normal.
“Are we almost done?” Mack wheezed. “I’ve gotta sit.”
“I know, big guy, I know.” Trent really just called his friend ‘big guy’ out of habit. They were around the same size these days, and they were both a little above average. Trent was feeling winded too.
Trent turned and found another mirrored wall. It was another dead end. But then he noticed the elevator buttons. The elevator door was disguised as another mirror. Clever. He pushed the button.
Trent put his hands on his hips while they waited. Or rather, he rested his hands on his love handles. He didn’t really have anywhere else to put them. Mack’s hands found their way to his chest as usual. That was his default – subtly fondling his nipples and chest fat. The door opened, and they ambled inside.
The door opened upstairs in the wax figure room, and there was the handsome blond, not far away, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. Like Trent and Mack – like pretty much everyone – he needed an awful lot of breaks in between walking. He wore no shirt, of course, but he had a fanny pack strapped across his very wide torso. The strap dug into his back fat.
Mack paused to lean against the wall, but Trent whispered, “Go! Now’s your chance. Get his number.”
Mack knew Trent was right. He’d regret it if he didn’t say something. If there was ever a time to not be quiet, this was it. He took slow, deliberate steps toward the stranger. “Hey. Thanks for the advice downstairs.”
The blond turned to face him and took a long look up and down, taking in every bulge and curve. “You’re welcome. You definitely would have gotten stuck in that little hallway. You’re even bigger than I am.” The way he said it, it was obviously a massive compliment.
Mack blushed. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” Suddenly he wanted to back out. He was terrible at this. But then a huge, round belly appeared by his side.
“My friend is trying to ask for your number,” Trent told the blond.
Mack’s cheeks heated even more, and he rubbed his neck. “Yeah. You’re cute.”
A smile bloomed on the blond’s face. He reached his pudgy fingers into his fanny pack and pulled out his phone. “Type your number into my phone, and I’ll text you!” As Mack typed his number, the blond said, “I’m Evan.”
“Mack.”
“I can’t believe a hot guy like you noticed me, Mack.”
“You’re cute,” Mack repeated. “Seriously.” He patted Evan’s large belly. “You look like you can eat.”
Evan’s grin widened. “Hell yeah.” He took the phone back, checked the area code on Mack’s number, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I was afraid you’d be too far away to really see each other.”
The two talked a little more, with Trent respectfully staying much quieter than usual, but then Mack's stomach grumbled loudly. “I need dinner. Now.”
Evan nodded. “Go fill up the tank, big guy. I hope… Maybe I can eat with you sometime.” “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Evan waved goodbye, and Mack and Trent very slowly made their way out of the museum and back to their car. Well… SUV. Who was small enough to fit in a car?
They passed the ticket scanner out front. He was almost as big as Mack had been in high school. He had potential to get nice and huge in the next couple years.
“Did you have fun?” Trent asked.
“Yeah. It was fun. Except…”
“Except the Fattest Man Alive,” Trent finished. Mack nodded. “What was with that? He was barely bigger than you!”
“Right? There’s gotta be bigger people than that. I’m not that huge.”
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