The medical office in the university was always uncomfortably warm, and Carlo could feel the heat creeping across his whole body. He’d been horny all day, and this wasn’t helping – he’d always found summer to be the worst time of year for his sex drive, when he just wanted to writhe around and fuck anything that moved. He regretted wearing such tight clothes, even though he normally enjoyed showing off his wares to anyone who paid attention – but this heat was really intense and he knew he’d be sweating profusely soon.
The other reason for his regret was that the university clinic had assigned him Dr. Kelly, who was famously a total pervert, who always gave hot male students the eye and had even made passing comments to Carlo before about how hot he’d looked in the student fashion show. Carlo prided himself on his looks, and took a lot of care in himself: he painfully restricted his dietary habits and worked out often as he could. The secretary at the medical office door had actually given him a stare when he arrived as if to say she’d eat him with a spoon if he let her, but he was exclusively into dudes, unfortunately for her.
Dr Kelly, on the other hand, was a chubby loser, and that was putting it lightly. The guy always seemed to have some kind of grease or food stain on his white lab jacket. Tufts of hair were always poking out from under his shirt, where his belly always seemed to be emerging too. He was like the anti-Carlo, and Carlo felt a mixture of pride in himself and horror at the world whenever he saw him. However, he had to see a doctor today – he had a slight pain in his knee and he was worried about an upcoming charity half-marathon that he’d been signed up to do. Even Dr Kelly examining his damned knee was better than nothing.
“So, what’s the matter,” the doctor said, barely even looking at Carlo’s medical notes as he strolled in, his belly wobbling as ever, his face stained with what looked like chocolate around his lips, “you’re worried about… your leg, handsome?” His tongue was basically drooping out of his mouth with hunger as he gazed at Carlo.
“My knee.” Carlo said, firmly, gesturing down but keeping his eyes firmly on the doctor’s forehead, so as not to take in too much slobbishness at once. He ignored the sexual harassment, but felt a weird twinge downstairs, as if some part of his body actually rather enjoyed it. Weird. “Could you stop looking at me like…? I mean. Yes. My knee hurts.”
“Yes, well, adding so much weight to your body in such a short time will inevitably cause aches and pains,” Dr Kelly said, a note of sympathy – or even empathy – in his voice.
Carlo was stunned. “Excuse me?”
Dr Kelly said, “well, it looks like you… well, even your records say you’ve put on, what, 50 pounds in two months? You must know your body’s not going to love that, right? You hardly need to go to medical school for that kind of education!”
Carlo looked down at his body, arms ready to gesticulate around, as if to say “um, look at what you’re talking about”, but he suddenly had to freeze, even though he was still so, so warm. His body was no longer his own. A belly had appeared, poking out from under his tank top. It was hairy, about half the size of a watermelon, and it rumbled aggressively as soon as he noticed it. For once, Carlo was really, really hungry. And – dear god, when he tried to speak, all that came out first was a deep, resounding belch.
“Goodness me!” Dr Kelly said, “someone’s hungry! Or perhaps you’ve eaten too much? It can be hard to tell sometimes, can’t it?” He had adopted a jovial tone, not the lustful one he normally took with Carlo. It was almost like he saw him as some kind of equal. “I can relate! I was pretty skinny when I started my training, back in the day, and then things got a bit doughy when I hit my 40s.”
“I don’t know.. what the fuck is happening..”
“Language, Carlo. Look, the knee isn’t really the issue, is it? Are you here because of something else?” Dr Kelly reached out and touched Carlo’s knee, gingerly, as if it might break. “Have you been having problems at school, at home? You’ve packed on what, 100 pounds? You used to be a model or something, weren’t you? I’m here if you need to talk to someone.”
Carlo burped again in horror, this time more of a whimper than a belch. The little belly? It was a basketball sitting in his lap, rumbling even more, crushing his tortured dick and balls. He could feel it weighing down his entire body, as if his entire being had rearranged its gravity. His arms and legs looked like twigs in comparison to the gut they surrounded, and he could see now that he had mounds of flesh where his delicate little pectorals had once been. He had tits! Little tits! He was agog.
“Doctor, what is going on? I promise something weird, something crazy, is happening!”
“Mmm.” Dr Kelly’s expression had soured slightly, he looked a bit dismissive. “I don’t really know what’s going with boys like you. College… it must be college. You come in here and stuff your little faces with your little meal cards. Even I look thin compared to some of you!”
It was true. Now that Carlo had a chance to actually evaluate a little bit more of the world around him – and the world that had become him, this globe of a belly – he could see that he was now fatter than Dr Kelly, significantly. He had a grumbling stomach and moobs and he was convinced he was sat higher on his seat than he had been before, as if his ass had pushed him higher and higher.
Carlo felt utterly glued to his chair and his head felt foggy, as knowledge of marathon running and modeling and the gym dimmed somewhat in his brain. His tank top was straining to contain anything his torso had to offer, and as he looked at himself, he could swear he could see stains appearing as if from nowhere, as if he’d been messily eating for hours without bothering to use a napkin or change his clothes. His arms and legs felt like they were made of cement and he felt his lips were bee-stung and wet with saliva.
“And did you really have to bring your lunch to the doctor’s office?” Dr Kelly said, as Carlo literally watched a half-eaten baguette brimming with fillings materialize in his hand. “That’s more than a little unhygienic, beyond anything – can’t you go a second without eating?”
“Mmmphhhh–” Carlo tried to say, without realizing his mouth was full of soda. Some dribbled from his lips as he noticed a vat of cola the size of a child sitting by his foot. He somehow felt it would be a strain to reach down and grab it at this rate. And he was still so damn warm! And beneath his belly, he felt an erection throbbing, as if it was cursed to enjoy whatever foul fate was befalling him.
“That’s really… not what I hoped to see today, Carlo. I really thought you were going to work on the diets and exercises we talked about,” Dr Kelly said, “I really thought there was hope for you. I mean, no one ever thinks you’re going to be a model again, but to see such a handsome boy become nearly 400 pounds… it’s shocking, really. I’m sorry to speak so frankly.”
Carlo felt tears building as his body ballooned again, his arms, thighs and feet fattening finally as his belly and tits exploded again in size. He felt a tightening around his eyes as his face literally expanded around them – and then the warmth of the room finally crested, and he felt himself get incredibly, incredibly hard, somewhere under all of the lard, and everything rubbed together perfectly for just a moment, and the heat became blinding, and he came everywhere, staining his unbelievably strained shorts and the underside of his belly, farting loudly as he did so.
“Fucking hell,” Dr Kelly, the thinnest man in the room, said, “you fat guys really are something.”
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