The subway train rattled steadily through the dark tunnels, its fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the nearly empty car. The late hour meant few passengers remained, leaving plenty of space for the striking figure seated a few rows away. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. He was shirtless, leaning back casually in the orange plastic seat with his muscular body on full display. A gray cap sat backward on his head, white earbuds in his ears, and intricate tattoos decorated his thick arms and broad shoulders. His hairy chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths, defined abs flexing subtly with each sway of the train. He looked powerful, confident, and completely at ease.
He caught you looking. His sharp eyes met yours, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. Before you could glance away, he pulled out one earbud and spoke in a low, casual voice.
“See something you like?”
You didn’t have time to answer. In a swift motion, he reached across the aisle, his strong hand grabbing the front of your shirt. With surprising ease, he yanked you forward, pulling you straight into his lap. His grip was firm and unyielding.
“Too bad for you,” he murmured, voice calm and cocky. “Staring that long means you’re mine now.”
He tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide, and shoved your head between his hot, slick lips. The inside of his mouth was incredibly warm and wet. His tongue pressed firmly against your face as he took his first powerful swallow.
GLURK.
The strong muscles of his throat rippled around your head, pulling you in with surprising force. The heat was immediate and overwhelming — a tight, pulsing tunnel of slick flesh that squeezed from all sides. You felt the firm pressure of his collarbones stretching around your shoulders as another deep gulp dragged you deeper. His heartbeat thumped loudly nearby, steady and powerful, while the rippling contractions of his esophagus worked you down relentlessly.
GLURK… GLURK…
Your shoulders and chest slid inside. The heat intensified, wrapping around your upper body like a living sauna. The walls were soft yet incredibly strong, massaging and squeezing you downward in rhythmic waves. You could feel every detail — the slick saliva coating your skin, the powerful muscles flexing and relaxing in sequence, and the way his broad chest expanded to accommodate you. His strong hands gripped your waist, steadily feeding more of your body past his lips. Each swallow sent fresh waves of pressure down around you, pinning your arms to your sides.
The descent felt endless. The tight, wet tunnel pulsed and rippled, pulling you steadily toward his stomach. The sounds were loud and intimate — the wet glucks of his throat, the rush of air, and the constant, heavy thud of his heart. The heat grew thicker, more humid, as you slipped further in. His powerful body claimed you with casual dominance, treating you like nothing more than a satisfying meal.
With a final, deep GLURK, your legs slid down his throat. You dropped into his stomach with a splash.
The chamber was incredibly tight. The fleshy walls immediately closed in around you, slick and churning, pressing firmly against your curled-up body from every direction. It was intensely hot — like being wrapped in a heated, living blanket that never stopped moving. The stomach walls rippled and squeezed in slow, rhythmic waves, massaging your form as digestive juices began to pool around you. The air was thick, heavy, and humid, carrying a strong, musky scent.
You could feel everything. Every sway and jolt of the subway train translated directly into motion inside him. When the train rounded a curve, you were shifted and rolled gently within the tight space. His powerful abs flexed occasionally, compressing the chamber even tighter around you. The walls kneaded and squeezed with surprising strength, coating you thoroughly as the stomach worked to process its large meal.
Outside, the shirtless pred leaned back comfortably in his seat, one hand resting possessively on his massively distended belly. The clear bulge of your body was visible beneath his stretched skin. He rubbed slow, lazy circles over the rounded gut, feeling every shift you made inside.
“Damn… you settled in nice,” he muttered quietly, voice satisfied. He gave his heavy stomach a firm pat, causing the walls around you to clench tighter for a moment. The pressure increased, squeezing you deeper into the churning folds.
“BUUUUURRRRP!”
A deep, rumbling belch rolled out of him, vibrating through the stomach walls. The chamber clenched hard around you for a moment as air escaped.
The train continued its journey, stopping at stations and picking up the occasional passenger. Most people glanced at the muscular man with the enormous, rounded belly but quickly looked away. He simply smirked, adjusted his cap, and kept one earbud in, acting like carrying a full belly on the subway was completely normal. His hand never left his gut for long, stroking and rubbing over your form in slow, almost affectionate motions.
Inside, the sensations grew more intense over time. The heat never let up. The slick walls constantly rippled and contracted, massaging every inch of your body. Digestive fluids pooled higher, tingling against your skin as they worked. Every breath he took caused the chamber to expand and contract slightly around you. When he shifted in his seat, you were pressed and turned within the tight space. The constant, wet gurgling sounds surrounded you — the active churn of his powerful stomach breaking down its meal.
The motion of the train added to it all. Each acceleration pushed you back against the rear wall of his stomach. Every stop and start jostled you gently, the fleshy chamber sloshing around you. His abs would occasionally flex, squeezing you firmly as he relaxed, reminding you just how completely you were trapped inside this dominant stranger’s body.
Station after station passed. His stomach grew gradually softer and rounder as it worked harder on you. The outlines of your form slowly smoothed out beneath his skin. He stayed relaxed the entire ride, occasionally glancing down at his full belly with a content expression, his hand continuing its slow, possessive rubbing.
By the time the train approached his destination, you were thoroughly claimed. The tight, churning heat enveloped you completely, the rhythmic motions of his body and the subway blending together into one overwhelming experience. He stood up carefully, his heavy, rounded gut swaying with the movement. One hand stayed on his belly as he stepped off the train, carrying you with him into the night like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You were his meal now — warm, digesting weight inside the confident, muscular stranger from the subway.
In Part 1, I meet you in the park. You're so impossibly big that I have to help you get back home. You think I'm attracted to your obese body, but that's totally not the case. I'm just a caring person. That's all.
(Content warning. This gets very dirty.)
***
I watched you shuffle into your bedroom. Even though I could tell the doorframe had been widened, your hips still grazed the sides. You reached the side of the bed, smiled over at me, and allowed yourself to fall onto the mattress.
Your fat gut spread around you like a winter blanket, but your feet were still over the side. You needed my help again.
I walked closer, still not understanding why my heart was pounding so fast.
You didn’t ask for me to pull your feet onto the bed. You just expected it. You were wearing flipflops before, but they were gone now. You must've kicked them off.
You wiggled your stumpy toes. Playfully. Flirtatiously, even though this was the weirdest kind of flirtation I could imagine.
“Should I… help you?”
You kept wiggling. That was your answer.
I crouched down and picked your feet up one at a time until you were comfortable on your bed. California King size, I assumed. (Unless it was bigger. Unless you had it special-ordered.) With your head on a pillow and your shapeless body spread out in all directions, you looked like a king.
Even though you were still trying to catch your breath, you had a bemused smirk. You were waiting for me to act. But… what did you expect me to do?
“H-how can I help you now?” I muttered.
Your smirk spread into a full-on grin. You kept silent.
“I mean… Are you comfortable?”
Still no reply. You looked cocky. Your eyes (so much smaller when you smiled) were basically saying, “I know I’m hot. I know you want me.”
But I didn’t want you. I wanted to leave.
You lazily raised your arm and let it fall on your belly. You started scratching a cluster of stretchmarks. Like every other movement, this felt as if you were showing off again, like you were scratching yourself for me.
I couldn’t look away.
“I get so itchy sometimes. I wish I could… reach… a little… lower.”
“Wh-where?” I mumbled.
“My droop,” you said proudly.
You weren’t asking me to scratch your belly, yet the message was clear. My brain kept screaming for me to leave, but instead, I sat on the edge of the bed and placed my hands on the curtain of fat just below your belly button.
Your body was soft all over, but this part of you was the softest. Its surface was tissue-paper thin, barely any skin covering the loose, irregular lumps of fat underneath. I gave you a couple scratches and you let out a slow, breathy moan.
“Do you feel better?”
“Underneath, please.”
You wanted me to reach my hands underneath your overhang, in the warm space squashed between your belly and your thighs. That was… too much.
And yet…
My fingers traced down your belly and I buried my hands under your roll. Burning hot. I didn’t expect it to be this hot. And wet. The weight of your overhang was really pressing down; I could barely move my hands. But my fingers… I curled and uncurled them in a scratching motion.
Just a few times and your whole body quivered. You liked that.
It must be hard to have itches you can’t reach. It must feel great when someone…
Crunch.
As my hands were buried in your rolls, you grabbed a bag of potato chips from the nightstand and started eating. When I looked up at you (past your mountain of belly fat), you were stuffing your face and smiling. Always smiling.
“You’re welcome,” you said through a mouthful.
“Thanks,” I instantly responded. Only after the word came out of my mouth did I realize that it should’ve been reversed. You should be thanking me for scratching your itch. I didn’t choose to bury my hands inside you.
God. I felt so dirty. Not dirty enough to stop, though.
You scarfed down huge handfuls. Crumbs and salt rained down on your shirt. “Keep digging. I’m sure you’ll find something.”
Okay! That was too much. I pulled my hands out with a wet thwuck sound. I was too scared to look at them. (Or smell them.) I could feel how wet they were, though. Absolutely coated in whatever sweaty juices you kept tucked away.
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go,” I said.
You didn’t stop eating. “No you’re not.”
“I am! I just came here to make sure you were okay. And you are, so…”
Half-eaten globs of chips fell down your chins as you laughed. At me. “Sure, buddy.”
“Seriously. Bye,” I said. I got to my feet and headed toward the door. Once I washed my hands, I’d be out of here.
But for some reason I still couldn’t figure out, I stopped at the edge of the room.
“Change your mind?” you called behind me.
“No,” I muttered. “But you’ll be okay, right?”
“Perfect,” you said.
I looked around. What I was looking for, I had no idea. An excuse to stay? No, it couldn’t be that.
I noticed a pile of donut boxes on your dresser. Plus a funnel. Plus bottles of lotion and lube. There was a photo, too. It was in a heart-shaped frame. It showed a smiling man at the beach. He was about my size (average height and just a little chubby), though his face was a lot more handsome.
Judging by the frame, this must’ve been your boyfriend. No wonder you saw something in me that wasn’t there. I obviously reminded you of your boyfriend. Unlike me, that guy must've been a chubby chaser or whatever they’re called. Now it all made sense.
I felt a weird twinge in my chest when I realized that. It wasn’t jealousy, of course. I was happy that you had someone to take care of you. You didn’t need me anymore.
“Is he gonna come back soon?” I asked. “To help you get out of bed?”
“Who?” you asked. You let the empty chip bag fall to the floor.
“Your boyfriend.” I would feel better knowing that I wasn’t leaving you trapped here in a prison of your own fat.
“I’m not dating anyone,” you said.
“Then who’s…?” I nodded toward the picture.
You laughed so hard the bed shook. “Buddy, that’s me! I look at that photo for motivation.”
That’s you?
My pulse pounded out of control, and a surge of warmth spread to my crotch. I was… Jesus. I was getting hard.
Knowing that you’d gained so much, knowing that you started out looking just like me… My brain couldn’t process that realization. But my body reacted.
This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.
I turned to face you.
You noticed the bulge in my pants right away. “Still wanna leave?”
“I… I… What are you doing to me?”
You ignored my question. Grabbed another bag of potato chips. Ripped it open. Your eyes were fixed on me the whole time.
I had no control over my body anymore. I climbed back onto the bed. My mind was both empty and filled with a thousand thoughts. I could hear my unsteady heartbeat.
You waited for me to touch you again, and fuck it. I did. I placed my hands on your sloshing stomach and squeezed it. All this fat had a power over me. I couldn’t deny that anymore.
And though you didn’t say anything (and you didn’t stop eating), your breathing turned into gasps again. Because of my touch.
I felt inside your creases. I reached under your overhang. I explored your hot, sweaty bits. And without even realizing it, I grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants and tried to pull them down.
Tried to. Your pants were stuck.
“Don’t bother,” you said. “Your belly scratch already made me cum. Keep playing around and I’ll probably cum again.”
“H-how?”
You laughed. It didn’t feel like you were laughing at me anymore. You were just enjoying yourself.
“You can show me what you got, though.”
I didn’t know what that meant until the back of your hand grazed my bulge. I was harder than ever, more confused than ever, completely under your power.
You dropped the second chip bag. I didn’t know if you were finished (probably) or if you just wanted to focus on me. With your crinkled, smiling eyes gazing up at me, I pulled off my shirt.
I’d never been skinny, and I’d never felt skinny, but at this moment, I felt so tiny next to you. Just skin and bones, barely fat at all.
You took me in. You smiled. You licked your lips. Then you whispered, “Keep going.”
As if I had any other choice.
I unzipped my pants and let them drop. My cock was already revealing itself through the hole in my boxers.
“Not bad.”
That made my dick twitch.
“Climb aboard,” you said.
I wasn’t sure what you were asking of me. I didn’t even understand how someone like you could have sex anymore. How could I even reach…?
In response to my nervous look, you grabbed your upper belly roll to spread open the dark, sweaty crease that ran across your middle. You lifted it. Let it fall. Lifted it. Let it fall again.
It took me a second to realize what you were trying to tell me. And when I finally did…
I was scared. Scared of the idea. Scared of how my body was reacting to it. You wanted me to slide into your folds. Why? How could that possibly feel good to you?
Fuck it. None of this made any sense, so I might as well listen to what my body wanted, what you clearly wanted. I wriggled out of my underwear and climbed onto your massive belly. I was careful at first. I didn’t want to hurt you with my full weight.
But your body could handle it. No matter how much I was sinking into you, you never stopped smiling.
I looked you right in the eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?” you countered.
That was the question of the day. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Since the moment I heard you gasping in the park, I’d been nothing but confused. But my dick was sure. It was already leaking.
“Uh huh,” I said. I gripped my shaft and slid it into your cavernous belly fold.
"Oof," you grunted.
Before I knew it, I was riding you like a surfer on the ocean.
With each thrust, your body sloshed and more gasps escaped your mouth. You grunted, too. And whimpered. You liked this as much as I did. It was my movement that was getting you off. Your cock must be buried so far down in your piles of fat that your own body can simply stroke itself. I didn’t need to touch you down there (not like I could) for the pleasure to surge through you.
Your crease was deep enough to handle all my length, and I certainly wasn’t small. I pushed in, pulled halfway out, and pushed in again. I felt the warm, wet suction of your fat enveloping my cock. I bucked into you, over and over, and felt every quivering inch of your belly react. You jiggled in a thousand different directions.
You were gasping.
I was gasping, too.
I could’ve lasted much longer, but the excitement of knowing how wrong this was… It thrilled me. And soon, I was about to finish. Your folds were already flooded with juices when I thrusted once more and… let go.
I blasted deep into you, more than I ever had before. I literally screamed as you drained me. It was enough to fill your crease, to let tiny rivers leak out and wind down your trembling rolls.
I tried to pull out, but I was too exhausted and overwhelmed. I was still inside you when I collapsed fully onto your fat, burying my face in the crook of your neck. You were my waterbed.
You didn’t stop gasping for the longest time. And when your breathing finally settled, you whispered, “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” I whispered back. I really, really meant it.
The End
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A proud big sister and her little brother. Well, the brother is not so little anymore. Actually he’s getting quite chubby lately. His sister noticed that ofcourse, so she signed him up for a local soccer team, hoping that he would lose some of his excess weight that way. However, little did she know that the club didn't take a healthy lifestyle and a strict training schedule for the soccer games very seriously, but instead valued 'the third half' more, during which they chugged down liters of beer and devoured as many snacks as possible. Now her 'little brother' looks like he's hiding a ball under his shirt.
Dylan had just been substituted off after twenty exhausting minutes. As he stood near the sideline catching his breath, a player from the opposing team jogged over with a grin.
"Hey, Dylan."
Dylan looked up. "Uh... do I know you?"
The guy laughed. "Ryan. Ring a bell?"
Dylan squinted. Then his face dropped. "Oh."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, the guy whose girlfriend you stole senior year."
Dylan groaned. "Come on, man, that was years ago."
"It was”, Ryan agreed. "Back when you were the golden boy."
Dylan folded his arms. "What's your point?"
Ryan glanced down at Dylan's snug jersey. "Just thinking about karma, really."
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go."
Ryan smirked. "You remember how untouchable you acted?"
"I was confident."
"You were unbearable."
Dylan laughed despite himself. "Maybe."
Ryan stepped closer and gave Dylan's side a playful poke. "Well, life's funny."
Dylan immediately slapped his hand away. "Don't."
Ryan grinned. "Those weren't there last time I saw you."
"They're called love handles."
"I know." Ryan grabbed the air dramatically. "You took all the love from everyone else and your waist decided to keep it."
Dylan groaned. "That's terrible."
"It's accurate." Ryan nodded toward Dylan's jersey. "I mean, look at these things. They're practically part of the uniform now."
Dylan looked down at himself. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"A little." Ryan shrugged. "Back in high school you stole my girlfriend." He gestured at Dylan. "Now your belt is getting revenge."
Dylan burst out laughing. "You're an idiot."
"Maybe." Ryan pointed toward the field. "But at least I'm not getting outrun by guys I used to coach."
Dylan sighed. "Alright, alright. I get it."
Ryan smiled. "Don't worry, buddy." He patted Dylan's shoulder. "You're still a heartthrob."
Dylan smirked. "Really?"
Ryan looked down at Dylan's waist. "To bakeries, maybe."
Dylan threw his water bottle at him as Ryan jogged away laughing.
This greedy piggy calls himself a ‘Greek god’ like we’re not looking at a temple that switched from marble to marshmallow. You’re not Zeus or Apollo, more like a-pollo of seconds and thirds. Talking about divine physique while your shirt is doing a full Olympic event just trying to stay closed. Those tight clothes are out here competing in the Hercules endurance trials. The Greek god you look like the most is Dionysus, the god of wine and excess. Not the strength, not the aesthetics… just the overindulgence sponsorship deal is the thing you two have in common. You stand there like you’ve descended from Mount Olympus, but the only thing you’ve been ascending lately is portion sizes. Your huge soft paunch is looking like Mount Olympus itself. This isn’t a ‘godly form’, it’s a feast that never ended. Still got the confidence of a Greek god though, I’ll give you that, because it takes real fat, uhm faith, to look like that and still introduce yourself as a mythological standard.
Bro runs onto the soccer field looking like he's about to play striker, but five minutes later he's breathing like he's trying to inflate an air mattress with his lungs. That jersey isn't athletic wear anymore, it's shrink-wrap. Every sprint looks like a battle between his stomach and the stitching. The referee starts the game and this guy immediately starts negotiating with oxygen. Meanwhile the actual players are flying up and down the pitch while he's moving like the loading screen hasn't finished yet. The funniest part is the confidence. He still points at his chest like he's the star player. Brother, the only thing starring today is that belly pushing its way through the team kit. Every time he changes direction, his jersey has to submit a revised engineering report. His teammates are calling for passes. His lungs are calling for mercy. At halftime he isn't discussing tactics, he's conducting emergency peace talks with his cardiovascular system.
The coach keeps yelling: "Move! Move!"
And his stomach replies: "We're doing our best!"
Back in the day he was a lean athlete. Now he looks like he accidentally trained for a competitive buffet and showed up at a soccer match by mistake. The saddest part? He still talks about his glory days every chance he gets. Buddy, your glory days are getting more exercise than you are.
“Have you heard that Michael is moving back to town?” asked Rick casually as he sipped his beer.
Levi’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening.“Really?” he asked back in astonishment. He hadn’t seen Michael in years. The guy had disappeared off to college seven years ago and simply never returned. “Who told you that?”
“His dad,” Rick nodded. “Apparently, he’s been trying to get Michael to join the family business for years and he’s finally agreed. I was asking about him. He said Michael has not long split up with his girlfriend, so the timing was right. We’ll have to all meet up for a drink.”
Levi nodded, trying to hide his eagerness. None of his friends had ever known about how he and Michael had fooled around together at the end of high school, nor how Michael’s abrupt exit from all their lives had cut Levi like a knife. He’d messaged him, back in those early college days, then waited three weeks for a reply until, eventually, he’d given up trying to stay in contact at all. “Sure!” Levi smiled, feigning delight. However, the thought of it plagued him for the next month, with memories of their time together washing over him like waves on a forgotten beach.
Michael had been the first in their group to lose his virginity. Tall, good looking and naturally athletic, the girls had flocked around him more than any of the rest of the otherwise nerdy bunch of guys the pair of them were friends with. To say that Michael was a randy teenager was a massive understatement. As an eighteen year old, Michael would delight in making them all jealous with tales of his kinky exploits, never holding back on the details for the ever-single boys. Then, when he and Levi had been walking home one Friday night, fueled by stolen beer from his dad’s refrigerator, Levi had somehow ended up sucking Michael off in some back alley. For Levi, who had repressed his sexuality for so long, it had been the most momentous event of his life. Finally, he had someone to talk about all these feelings which had plagued him for so long. As two horny eighteen year olds, they’d enjoyed the thrill of sneaking off together and having their own secret encounters. However, Levi was always well aware that none of it had ever actually meant anything to Michael, who was still quietly making his way through the entirety of eligible girls on the cheerleading squad. When college started up, that was it. Michael was gone and, in the great void that was left behind, only a feeling of being used and discarded remained.
With no social media, Levi realised that Michael had remained that fresh-faced eighteen year old in his head for all these years: the broad chest, slim waist and six pack; not forgetting that perfect dick of his that had imprinted itself on Levi’s mind every time he had been with anyone else. Perhaps that was why his eyes drifted over Michael without the slightest hint of recognition. The estranged man had been standing at the bar next to Rick and a couple of others of their friends. It was only as the pair of them locked eyes that Levi realised who the stranger actually was. Handsome though Michael remained, his face had swollen with puffier cheeks and a slight double chin that masked the once striking jawline. Broader and taller than he even remembered, Michael had a formidable mass to him; strong and capable, yet carrying an a surprising amount of weight around his middle, with a stout belly that pushed out further than all the other dad-bods that had begun to sprout on many of the other guys Levi recognised from high school. Yet, even now Michael seemed to command attention more than the rest of them: the perfect fit of his t-shirt around his big arms, his confident stance and deep masculine voice. His hair was long and thick, down to his shoulders and a perfect, trimmed beard had turned him into the type of hairy bear Levi had lusted after for many years on those infuriating dating apps. His cologne smelt sexy and his wide, fun-loving smile made Levi remember all over again just why he’d found Michael so irresistible.
It was only as they all sat down that the subject of Michael’s weight came up. With a sizable ball gut pressing into his lap, the sight of it captured all their attention, until Rick was brave enough to observe: “So, you’ve been eating well since high school, huh?”
Michael laughed heartily and rubbed the shelf of his protruding stomach like it was an old friend. “Dude, you have no idea!” he smiled proudly.
“You were the only one of us who had a six pack!” smiled Jake, who had always carried an extra thirty unwanted pounds on his body.
“Yeah, that didn’t last long in college,” Michael shot back, as if the loss had meant nothing at all to him. “Take-out and beer soon sorted that out!” he chuckled, patting his hefty middle that was inadequately concealed behind an unflatteringly fitted t-shirt. Then I met Anabelle…” he grinned, using the same boyish tone he had always deployed when talking about the girls he had been with.
“Oh, you mean the infamous ex?” Rick asked, fully encouraging Michael to continue.
Michael nodded. “The sexiest woman you will ever meet!” he boasted. “You guys will love this…” he grinned, pulling out his cell phone to show them a picture of her, making all the guys swoon at the image, just like he had always done, teasing them with those unobtainable girls back in high school.
“Fuck, dude!” Rick exclaimed jealously, as if he had been transported back to his teenage years. “And she finished with you because you got too big?”
“No, buddy,” Michael chuckled. “The complete opposite. I actually used to be seventy pounds heavier than this when we were together,” he explained, holding out his hands as if to simulate a much larger gut that had once been on him. “Let’s just say, she was the type of girl who liked to keep her man well fed!”
The guys all laughed. “What? Like some sort of feeder?” Rick asked, bemused by the idea.
“And then some!” Michael nodded emphatically back. “She was crazy horny about it all. I used to get the best fucking blow jobs if I just sat back, ate a couple of pizzas and bloated up on beers each evening! A nice little lap dance for taking down a tub of ice cream. Tits in my face any time I was munching on some snacks!”
“That's so weird!” laughed one of the others.
“It was fucking awesome!” Michael laughed. “The best time of my life without a doubt. Who needs a six pack when you have a girl like that bouncing up and down on your dick all night?” he smirked proudly. “She ended up finishing with me for some huge, five hundred pound guy who moved into our building,” he added with his usual, casual attitude.
Naturally, the guys were all incredibly curious, asking several questions.
“It sounds like you had a lucky escape!” Jake finally stated, patting his buddy on the back.
Michael nodded, but didn’t seem quite so convinced.
In time, each of them began to explain exactly what it was they had been up to during the intervening years since high school.
“What about you, Levi?” asked Michael. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”
Levi shook his head. “I was seeing a guy from work for a couple of years, but that didn’t really go anywhere,” he answered.
“Oh, good,” Michael nodded. “So you came out at last then?”
The other guys looked curiously from Michael to Levi. “Wait. Did you know he was gay back in high school?” Jake asked, as they had all previously agreed that none of them had had the slightest inclination that Levi had been secretly into guys back then.
“Of course!” Michael nodded. “Who do you think gave him his first blow job?”
Jaws dropped to the floor.
“You never told any of them about us?” Michael asked Levi directly as the silence filled the space. “After all these years?”
“I never told anyone,” Levi mumbled back, knowing that he was going to have to spend the rest of the evening explaining the secret fling that had ended up stinging him so deeply as an eighteen year old.
“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, sneaking up to the bar with Levi later that evening. “I had no idea that it was all still a secret. I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise,” he mumbled awkwardly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Levi replied graciously, despite the way he was still gritting his teeth. Not only had he had to confront the guy who had broken his teenage heart, back in the day, but now he’d had to answer questions about it for the last half an hour.
“I was worried you were pissed off at me,” Michael prodded further, perhaps still sensing Levi’s annoyance.
“Why would you be worried?” Levi shrugged back. “It’s not like you’ve given any of us a second thought in the last few years.”
Michael rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, knowing he had thoroughly deserved the cutting remark. “Well, maybe it feels that way, but it’s not as if I stopped thinking about any of you, and remembering the fun we had.” He glanced quickly over his shoulder to check that none of the guys were looking, then whispered playfully back: “Especially that night I fucked you on that mini golf course…” he teased.
Levi couldn’t help but laugh. That story, at least, had remained hidden from the group: the first time Levi had really enjoyed taking a pounding and been so vocal about it, moaning loudly. They had been less than half a second away from getting caught by a very angry looking security guy. “That was a pretty good night,” he nodded back.
“Well then…” Michael teased flirtatiously, looking back for one final check before playfully cupping Levi’s butt with his giant hand. “If you ever want to recreate those glory days… I’m always willing…”
Levi grinned back. So, Michael was just as horny as ever? It had been years since he’d been touched by him, yet the electricity sizzled through his entire body. He’d known for a long time that no one could ever get him aroused quite like Michael could.
“Oh, fuck!” Michael exclaimed a week or so later, zipping his pants back up. “You’ve certainly upped your game since last time.”
Michael smirked. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told he gave a good blow job. He’d finished pretty quickly himself; overcome by his arousal for the large-built guy who had replaced the former Michael. Broad, bellied and bearded, this man was now the perfect bear for a guy like Levi. And his dick? Well, that was just as beautiful and large as Michael remembered.
“Blow jobs just make me crave pizza these days,” Michael laughed, pulling his tight t-shirt back on and plopping down on the couch as if he needed to catch his breath still. “I think that’s what happens after you’ve dated a feeder,” he chuckled, tapping his gut. “I’ll probably have to pick something up on the way home.”
“I thought you were trying to lose weight?” Levi asked, putting his own clothes back on.
Michael seemed to think for a moment. “Not really,” he shrugged. “I lost weight because of the stress of breaking up, leaving my job, getting ready to move back here… and my family’s judgement, of course,” he sighed, rolling his eyes impatiently at that last one. “ But I actually quite liked being bigger,” he nodded, rubbing his still protrusive gut.
“What size were you?” Levi asked curiously.
“Three hundred and sixty pounds at my biggest,” Michael replied as if he thoroughly expected the figure to impress Levi. “I was a whole lot of man!”
“I bet!” Levi smiled back, realising that the thought was not at all unattractive. “I’m sure your ex was delighted.”
Michael nodded emphatically back. “And she found plenty of ways to show how happy she was with me,” the guy winked playfully back.
“Do you still miss her?” Levi asked, wondering whether, underneath all of Michael’s bravado, there was still some sadness about losing her.
Again, Michael took a moment to think. “Sometimes,” he stated at last. “She’s moved on and is happy, which is nice to know. I do miss the sex though…” he grinned.
Levi rolled his eyes. Michael’s brain had always been second in command to his penis when it came to his decision making. “Oh, is that so?” he chuckled with amusement at the fact that Michael would never change. Older and wiser, perhaps, but nothing would ever come in the way of him getting that perfect orgasm.
“You have no idea how nice it is to be sucked off after so much food,” Michael smiled fondly. “I’ll never find anyone that will let me get away with that shit again. Just all that food, beer and kinky sex… I was absolutely in my element with it all!”
Levi playfully punched his buddy on his arm, but even as he feigned disinterest at the over-share, the cogs in his head had already started to turn.
“Were you expecting someone?” asked Michael the following week as they kissed on the couch and were interrupted by a loud knock at Levi’s door.
Levi smiled and got up, returning a minute later with a large, steaming pizza inside its cardboard box.
“You ordered us pizza?” Michael asked with bemusement.
“No…” Levi smiled back. “I got you pizza.” He observed for a second as Michael seemed to be getting the gist of what was happening. “I thought it might be a nice little accompaniment for when I go down on you in a second.”
Michael’s smile beamed. He stood up and undressed with a ferocious speed; his dick already hard before he’d even dropped his underwear. “Where do you want me?” he asked, as if thoroughly expecting to be directed by Levi throughout this experience.
Levi’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t anticipated that Michael would be quite this enthusiastic. “Just in front of the TV will be fine,” he smirked, pointing down at the armchair. Michael’s dick appeared ridiculously stiff.
The moans were loud and raucous that came from the feeding man. More than once, Levi had to stop what he was doing, laughing at how uncontrollably the big boy was enjoying getting sucked off as he ate.
“You realise I’ve got neighbors upstairs?” he asked the naked Michael, legs spread wide and slouching in the chair as he ate. “These walls are paper-thin!”
“This just feels so fucking good,” Michael replied, his eyes filled with an all-consuming lust; the type that Levi had never seen in anyone before. “Have you got anything else to eat? I’m nearly done with this pizza.”
Levi sat up more and peered into the box in shock. Only a single slice remained. “But that was an extra large!” he cried.
Michael merely grinned. “I’m a greedy boy!” he announced proudly, grabbing onto a roll of stomach fat and giving it a shake.
“I might have some cake in the…”
“YES!” Michael roared, rubbing his own dick as he waited patiently for Levi to resume his sucking. “Bring the whole thing,” he ordered, upon seeing that there was over half of Levi’s own birthday cake just sitting in the refrigerator.
Never before had Levi been instructed to slow down and focus on edging when pleasuring a guy, but that was exactly what Michael seemed to want; pulling his dick away each time he felt he was getting a little too close to the climax. It took Levi far longer than it should have to work out exactly why. As insane as it may have appeared, Michael wasn’t going to let himself finish until every last crumb of that cake had been consumed, washed down with the entire pack of beers he’d brought along with him.
When the grand finale at last came closer, Michael was rubbing the shelf of his fat tummy and burping loudly between moans. He’d reached out for one of Levi’s hands and strapped it onto his gut as if he wanted him to appreciate the extreme bloating it was now going through. Then he came, gushing into Levi’s mouth like a flood, and growling like it was the best orgasm of his life.
“So, what did you think about all that weird shit with Michael’s ex?” asked Rick the next time he met up with Levi and a couple of the others at a bar in town.
The guys all nodded in consideration of the question. “She sounds like she was into some pretty freaky stuff,” replied one. “I don’t think I could have gone along with all that just to make her happy.”
“Exactly!” Rick nodded in agreement. “What the hell possessed him to get so fat for her? He’ll never get back to his old weight now.”
“Who says he even wants to?” added Levi, feeling like he needed to contribute to the conversation, despite knowing so much more than the rest of them.
“I think that’s the problem,” Rick nodded. “It’s like he’s actually proud of it.”
All of them looked across at Michael who was away, ordering at the bar. Just as always, his t-shirt was a poor fit, stretching across his stomach in a way that only emphasised it more; tight fitting pants failing to conceal his crack.
“His dad thinks he’s seeing someone,” Rick went on. “He goes out at least a couple of nights a week and is always very cagey about where he’s been.”
Levi could feel his face flushing slightly.
“He would have said something if he was seeing someone,” dismissed one of the others. “Michael’s never been coy when it’s come to talking about his sex life, has he?”
The men all nodded in acceptance of that, still gazing across at their old friend as though he was a complete enigma to them.
Levi couldn’t deny that he found it all exciting over the coming weeks. Michael was so damn horny any time they included food into their sex life, eating had become the most utilised form of foreplay.
“I’m putting weight on again,” Michael smirked, after pulling off his shirt and sitting himself down in the familiar armchair. He cracked open his beer, putting it next to the full tray of doughnuts he had brought along with him. “I can feel it all coming back under here,” he stated, lifting his arm and bouncing the fleshy area to the side of his chest, usually concealed by his strong arms.
“It must be all the pizza!” smiled Levi back, always delighted whenever Michael headed over to see him; the visits becoming more and more frequent.
“And the ice cream… the burgers, the doughnuts, the beers…” Michael sang back proudly. “My appetite has gone through the roof lately, and I am absolutely loving it!” he exclaimed, pulling out his dick, which was indeed very hard, and giving it its first rub of the evening; all whilst inserting the first of his fresh doughnuts.
“A real little piggy!” Levi teased, having noticed that such words seemed to arouse Michael even more. Perhaps it was something his ex had done, commenting on how fat he was getting week by week.
“You’d better believe it!” Michael smiled, beckoning Levi over to sit on his knee and kiss him.
After a full minute of kissing, Michael’s hands started to undress Levi, pulling off his shirt and yanking down his pants until he could send Levi away to lubricate himself and return to sit his tight butt down on his crotch; then bounce away as Michael ate.
“Take one,” Michael ordered, nodding to the doughnuts.
“I’m not keen on doughnuts,” Levi replied, finally getting into a nice, slow, stimulating rhythm.
“Not for you!” Michael shot back. “For me!” he cried. “I want you to feed it to me.”
Levi smirked. That sounded like fun. He picked one up with his hand and teased Michael by nudging it closer to his mouth, holding it under his nose without letting him take any. Then, at last, Michael took a large, deep bite that filled his entire mouth. It wasn’t easy to coordinate whilst sliding up and down Michael’s hardness, and so, by the next bite, Levi ended up simply pressing all that he could into the man’s greedy open mouth. In response, he could feel his lover’s hardness throbbing even harder inside him, making it immediately obvious that this was something his ex had once done. This glutton was clearly used to being hand fed.
It was so rewarding to see Michael’s arousal. For the first time, there was that kinky little submissive streak showing itself. Levi pressed another doughnut into the guy’s face. Icing smeared across Michael’s nose as it was impossible to keep it steady. “Come on, Piggy. Eat it all up for me! It’s time to grow!”
Michael’s eyes immediately bulged. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that comment and, despite trying to lift Levi’s slim butt off him, he couldn’t manage to stop himself ejaculating all up Levi’s back. “Fuck!” he panted, frustrated that he had climaxed earlier than planned. “You’ve got to warn me before you say kinky shit like that!” he chuckled.
Levi smiled brightly, enjoying the power of making Michael lose control. This kink of his was genuinely so exciting when it felt like he could have the handsome guy wrapped around his little finger. The horny thing that he was, Michael would be ready to go and in another five minutes or so. And, when he was, Levi was going to make sure that those last remaining six doughnuts would all be gobbled up…
Working from home had its perks over the coming weeks. Michael had started to video call him on the phone during their lunchbreaks. Given that he was constantly driving around in his job, Michael was usually sitting in his car in some fast food place parking lot. Naturally, he’d order far too much, enjoying the reactions of those who served him. Then he’d call Levi up after he was a couple of burgers down, aroused and wanting encouragement to continue gorging. It was easy and arousing work, as well as being surprisingly effective for getting Michael enthused to come and see him each evening.
“Finish those hamburgers and I’ll suck you off like a pro this evening,” Levi teased. “Come on… nice big bites now, Fat Boy! That’s it!”
Oh, how Michael moaned with delight! It was their own secret love language. Michael had stopped looking for other people to pleasure him because no one quite knew how to get his dick as hard as Levi did. No one else would have the skills to edge Michael the way he liked, how much a jiggle of his fat could get him going, or whispering cheeky encouragement into his ear could build into such an explosive finale.
Perhaps it was because it was a regain, Michael grew with exceptional speed. Blubber spread throughout his torso, puffing up the cheeks of his face and widening his appearance from behind. His stomach had a long arch to it under Michel’s large chest, becoming tank-like and magnificent.
“It feels so much different to the last time I was three-sixty,” Michael declared, gazing at his naked reflection in the mirror after building up quite a sweat pounding Levi on the bed. “My belly doesn’t feel as big, but my butt is so much softer this time!” he laughed, reaching around for one of the oversized glutes and jiggling it as he chuckled at the sight of its movement.
“That’s probably because all you do is sit on your fat ass all day with this new job,” Levi replied, sitting up in bed and rubbing his dick, still waiting for his turn to be satisfied. It was curious that Michael’s gut had still been larger than this. It was so round and protrusive, with chubby pecs that had thoroughly drooped down onto the extensive shelf that had formed.
Michael grinned, still amused and delighted by the way his butt was looking. “I love it!” he declared, as his immortal hardness began to rise up once more. “It feels so different to what I’m used to. It makes me feel so…” he mused, a little unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say next. “Have you ever tried being a top?”
Levi sat up. “A couple of times,” he answered, surprised that Michael was suggesting such a thing for them. With his building lard, Michael had seemed to become more and more submissive to it each week; hanging on Levi’s every word as he tried to come up with more and more arousing ways to keep the big man eating. “Why? What are you suggesting?” he asked, unable to hide his interest.
Michael looked at him seriously. “I just think it’s a good next stage for me. My ass is properly soft now…” he smiled, giving it yet another jiggle. “Someone should be fucking it, don’t you think?”
Smiling wickedly, Levi nodded in agreement. “Sure. I can do that one day,” he grinned, needing Michael’s mouth on his dick as soon as possible. “Once it’s a little softer, I’ll give it a nice, big pounding…”
“You still want me fatter?” Michael asked keenly. It was a question he threw at Levi frequently, practically oinking with delight each time Levi agreed.
“Oh, I want you fatter alright!” Levi teased, beckoning the fat man back to the bed as he spread his legs wide and held up his hardness, ready to insert into the greedy mouth. “Just keep eating, Piggy, and you’ll soon be soft enough to experience what a proper fucking feels like…”
Certain things really worked with Michael. Levi hadn’t realised then how much he had stumbled upon something that struck such a chord with the guy’s ever evolving kinks. He’d become like a man possessed, sending Levi pictures of almost everything he was eating at each meal. Something had shifted in him. He was going for it with full force: rapid, blubbery expansion, citing Levi’s words as his inspiration.
“I bought some super-sized underwear for me to grow into for you…” Michael declared between kisses on the couch one evening after work. The man had been eating almost all day, keeping a record of his calories on his cell phone and aiming for ever more extremes of gluttony. Fat was spreading on top of already well established fat, softening Michael up in almost every direction. He wanted to be inspected, meaured and weighed in for progress. “Is my ass fat enough yet?” he asked.
As much as Levi wanted to unleash himself upon it, the anticipation of making him wait was far too alluring. “Almost…” he grinned every time, bouncing the unrecognisably lardy glutes. “But I stil need it fatter…”
Michael sighed in both delight and frustration, promising as he came each night that he would continue to transform himself into the fattest man that he could be. Levi wondered how far he was going to let Michael take things before he surrendered and gave him what he wanted so desperately. He was enjoying having Michael fixated of the idea of being fucked by him; the long, drawn-out process of longing for it. Michael had always been kinky, but he’d never had to wait for something like this before. His sexual frustration was evident as he sent Levi videos of his raging erections, even as he ate his lunch at work.
“This is for you…” Michael would wink in a 50-second video, raising a tub of whipping cream and then hastily downing it all in one go, looking around him in the parking lot to ensure that no one was around as he gave his pulsing dick a few strokes up and down, and burping like an old drain.
It was Michael’s birthday that September; the first one of their group to turn twenty-eight. Jake and Rick had suggested heading out to the city to visit some clubs, but all Michael had requested was an evening in their usual bar.
“Do you think he’s dating another freak?” asked Rick, as the rest of them couldn't help watching Michael as he stepped away to order himself a drink. The man’s whole shape was altering as blubber engulfed his previously solid frame; large, puffy arms and pillowy fat broadening his back at his shoulder blades. His clothes were a snug fit, just as they always were, leaving nothing to the imagination about how extreme the man’s love handles had become as his monstrous gut launched outwards. The sturdy strength of his athletic butt had been completely diminished as a pair of wide, underexercised and expansive glutes pressed unflatteringly up against large jeans that sat far too low to completely conceal his crack. “I’ve never seen anyone put on weight this quickly before.”
Levi tried to conceal a smirk.
“Well, he says not. But there’s gotta be some girl behind this somewhere,” Jake nodded in agreement. “He must be well over 400lbs now,” he noted, seeming to be sizing their tall friend up in his head.
“Oh, at least,” Levi nodded in agreement, knowing that Michael was actually closer to 430lbs.
“Shit!” laughed Rick, turning back to the group of friends with a giant smirk across his face. “It looks like we were exactly right!”
Levi chuckled, looking around in amusement. What had Rick seen that suddenly made him so sure that Michael was seeing someone?
One by one, the other guys laughed and nodded, seeming to understand. “Haven’t you spotted her?” Rick asked, as Levi seemed to be the only one who hadn’t caught on. “Look who just walked in. It’s his ex, Annabelle!”
Levi’s head swung to the entrance space. He hadn’t paid so much attention to the picture Michael had shown them all of his ex, yet the other guys seemed to recognise her right away. She was indeed, completely stunning, garnering stares from every single man in the room. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion as Levi watched her walk up to Michael and place a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention. She was here for his birthday, holding a present in her hand and passing it over to him.
Had Michael invited her? Surely not! He hadn’t talked about her in months! Levi studied his face carefully before deciding that he definitely hadn’t been expecting her. His fat face was one of complete shock, even as he was pulled into a gentle embrace by the petite girl almost a quarter of his size.
“What a liar!” Jake laughed, watching his lucky friend receiving attention from the outrageously sexy girl. “I guess he just couldn’t resist going back for seconds!”
Levi’s jaw clenched. He could tell from the way Annabelle was fussing around him that she was flirting. So, she’d heard how well Michael had continued to grow and decided to get him back? An angry, jealous goblin seemed to rise up out of him, suddenly finding himself marching across the room towards the former lovers.
“And when I called by your parents’ place, they told me you would be down here,” Annabelle was smiling, before stopping as she saw Levi approach.
“It’s amazing to see you,” Michael smiled back at her, before also noticing they were no longer alone. “Levi, this is my ex, Annabelle,” he delighted in saying.
Levi’s cheeks clenched in a forced grimace. He had no intention of making polite introductions. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked, pretending to see if anyone had followed her in. “Are you here on your own?”
Annabelle sighed and pouted sadly, in a way that many infatuated men probably found adorable. “Unfortunately, we broke up,” she replied, looking keenly to see Michael’s reaction to the news. “I made a big mistake choosing him. Things just didn’t work out.”
“I’m so sorry!” Michael offered, putting a consoling hand on the pretty girl’s shoulder. “That sucks!”
Levi rolled his eyes. If she wanted a fight, he’d give her a fight. “So, what was the plan then? You finish with one guy, then race down here to try and get your ex back?”
Annabelle was good. She looked across at Michael with big, innocent eyes, her mouth aghast with horror at the impolite way she had been addressed. “No! Not at all. I just needed to see my old friend!” she replied, clearly lying through her teeth.
“What’s got into you?” Michael asked Levi in surprise; more amused than annoyed.
“Michael and I have known each other since our first year in college,” the girl continued feigning her innocence. “I just needed to see a familiar face… That’s all.”
“Whatever!” Levi scoffed. “You’re here because you heard Michael’s packed on so much more weight these last few months and you realised he had more potential than you first thought.”
Annabelle looked back at Michael, and then down to his large, round stomach. “Well, I’m not going to lie. You do look pretty good,” she smiled. “You’ve come a long way since I first met you…” she teased, trying to share an intimate moment with him.
Michael suddenly seemed to catch on. He sighed heavily and then placed his great arm over Levi’s shoulder. “Annabelle, perhaps I should explain that Levi is my feeder these days.”
“This guy?” Annabelle asked, utterly speechless and unimpressed. She’d dropped the innocent approach now, looking just as hard back at Levi as he was looking at her. “I bet he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. Don’t you remember the things I used to do to get you to eat for me…” she asked Michael, seeming to throw out her chest more.
“It’s the reason I got kicked off the college football team,” Michael nodded with a smirk.
“Your coach was so pissed!” Annabelle continued, trying to lure Michael back down memory lane with her. “I already had a reputation back then. All the guys had warned you not to date me. You skipped so many practices getting fed and sucked off. Do you remember how sexy those first few pounds felt?”
“That’s true!” Michael nodded. “You never forget your first feeder.”
Annabelle’s smile was wide.
“But you never could have gotten me as big as Levi has already. His methods are just a little more… advanced,” Michael finally stated, just as Levi placed a possessive hand on his broad butt, not caring that all their friends were watching them from only twenty five feet away.
“The fat pig eats for me now!” Levi spat victoriously.
Michael looked to the side to grin happily at his lover. Had Levi really just said that in public? Already Levi could feel the man getting aroused by him once more.
“Michael… Come on!” Annabelle cried, as if trying to make her ex see reason. “Remember how much fun we used to have?”
But Michael wasn’t listening. With his oversized butt being caressed by Levi, he’d slipped into a fog of lust. “Everyone can see what you’re doing you know?” he whispered, thrilled by how openly Levi was admiring his size.
“I don’t care…” Levi smiled back, happy to block out Annabelle entirely as he kissed the big man passionately.
“I’m sorry, Annabelle,” Michael smiled at last, handing her back the present she had brought along that evening. “Like my feeder said, I’m Levi’s fat pig these days…”
Levi kept his eyes open as he kissed Michael next, eying Annabelle as her face curdled like sour milk. She turned around and marched out, probably having spent hours travelling here, all for nothing.
Coming out as a feeder hadn’t been as challenging as Levi had expected. Of course, their friends had questions, but Michael’s shameless enthusiasm had been more than a little contagious.
“So, how fat are you planning on making him?” asked a bewildered Jake.
“As fat as I want…” Levi grinned up at his lover, poking him in his ever softening tummy.
He knew he’d crossed a line and could never go back after today. But, as he dropped Michael’s underwear that night, bent him forwards over the bed and gently pressed himself inside, between those doughy, fleshy cheeks, he knew this was exactly where he wanted to be. He’d come so far with Michael, but still had much further to go. More fattening treats to be consumed, more lard to be developed if he was to train him up like he needed. He hadn’t become a feeder overnight and, likewise, Michael wasn’t about to surrender to his true submissive self just yet. But, pound by pound and fucking by fucking, Levi knew that he would one day come to be the the complete lardy chub that he was after. Despite all the women Michael had had in his time, he’d finally been captured, like a little piggy in its pen.
It’s clear this tubster did not only cheat on his girlfriends multiple times, but he also cheated on his diet on a daily base. I don’t think he will be able to cheat on his girlfriends anymore now though. If he’s even able to get a girlfriend with all that extra lard on his flabby body. Besides, he’s far too busy gorging on food these days to have time for girls. You’re just bulking, right?
Jake stood shirtless in the middle of their apartment, the cool air brushing against his bare skin as he stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror. His hands slowly roamed over the massive, heavy swell of his gut — round, taut, and bulging obscenely outward. The once-flat stomach was now a thick, hanging dome of stretched flesh, sagging heavily over the waistband of his black sweatpants. Beneath the soft layer of pudge, he could feel every faint shift and squirm of his former roommate trapped deep inside.
“Fuuuuck, Ethan…” Jake groaned deeply, his voice thick with pleasure. Both palms pressed firmly into the warm, gurgling mass, fingers sinking into the yielding flesh as he kneaded it possessively. A loud, wet glorp echoed from within, followed by a desperate push from inside that made the surface of his belly visibly bulge outward for a moment before it was squeezed back down by powerful stomach muscles.
It had been hours since their last fight escalated. Ethan had been bitching nonstop about rent, about Jake’s messy habits, about how he was “sick of carrying his lazy ass.” Jake finally had enough. In one swift motion he’d grabbed his roommate, pinned him to the couch, and shoved his head straight into his drooling maw. The swallow was brutal and hungry — wet, messy gulps stretching his throat wide as Ethan kicked and thrashed wildly. Jake’s tongue savored the salty taste of his roommate’s neck and shoulders, then his chest, then those toned abs… all the way down until Ethan’s hips slid past his lips. One final, powerful gulp sent the bulge traveling down his chest and settling heavily into his stomach with a satisfying slosh.
Now Ethan was nothing but meat. A thick, squirming gut-filler.
Jake’s cock was rock hard and straining painfully against the front of his sweatpants, the red waistband of his underwear peeking out as his heavy belly rested on top of it. He bit his lip and gave his swollen middle a slow, sensual rub, feeling every contour of Ethan’s curled-up body pressing against his stomach walls.
“You’re so fucking heavy, bro,” Jake murmured, voice husky. “I can feel you… all curled up tight in my gut, getting churned up. That desperate little squirming is making me so goddamn horny.” He reached down with one hand and lazily stroked the thick outline of his erection through the fabric, while the other continued massaging his massive belly. “Every time you push out like that, it squeezes right against my prostate. Shit… keep struggling. I want to feel you melt.”
He slapped the side of his gut firmly, watching the fat ripple and jiggle. The cross necklace dangling between his pecs bounced with the motion. Jake let out a low, satisfied moan as another wave of gurgles rippled through his stomach, the acids already working overtime on his roommate.
“Should’ve kept your mouth shut, Ethan. Now you’re just a thick load of roommate slop turning into my gut fat.” Jake smirked at his reflection, turning slightly to admire how low and heavy his belly hung, the navel stretched wide. “By morning this is all gonna soften up… gonna have a nice, jiggly beer belly hanging over my waistband. Maybe I’ll wear your clothes while I digest the rest of you. Let everyone think you just moved out.”
He pressed both hands deep into the sides of his stuffed gut and squeezed, feeling Ethan compress tighter inside. His cock throbbed hard, leaking precum into his underwear as the pleasurable pressure made his knees weak.
“Mmm… get comfortable in there, roomie. My stomach’s not letting you out until you’re nothing but nutrients and a fat fucking load in my balls.” Jake gave his belly one last loving, possessive pat, then slowly rubbed circles over the warm, churning dome.
“Sweet dreams, Ethan. You belong to me now.”
----------
A day later, Jake was sprawled on the couch, his now softer, rounder gut resting heavily in his lap as he lazily stroked it. The gurgling had mostly settled into deep, wet churning. He smirked and gave the sagging paunch a firm pat.
“Time to take a nice long shit and dump what’s left of you, roomie. Gonna push you out as a fat log of former Ethan… maybe leave you in the toilet for a while so I can admire what a good meal you made.”
Thursday morning, I decided to weigh myself at the gym. I hadn't checked in a while, and with all the strength gains I'd been making, I was curious to see the numbers.
I stepped on the scale and watched the digital display flicker before settling on a number: 201 pounds.
Two hundred and one fucking pounds.
I've put on eight pounds since the start of the season. Eight pounds of solid muscle. I stared at myself in the mirror next to the scale, turning to the side, flexing my arms. My biceps are bigger, no question. My shoulders looks broader. My chest is huge.
This is insane. I am getting more muscular without even trying that hard. Phil's shakes are like magic—pure gains in a bottle.
I flexed again, admiring the way my shirt stretched across my chest and arms. Fuck, I look good. If I keep this up, I'll have to buy new clothes just to fit these huge arms and muscular thighs. Maybe I should slow down a bit, or I'll end up looking like one of those bodybuilders who couldn't fit through doorways.
But damn, it feels good to be this big. This powerful.
The recruiters are going to lose their minds.
Later that afternoon, Coach called me into his office. I figured it was about game strategy or maybe some praise for my recent performance, but when I sat down, his expression was serious.
"Listen," Coach said, leaning back in his chair. "I've been noticing some changes in you lately."
"Changes?" I said, confused. "Like what?"
"You've been bulking," he said bluntly. "And I get it—strength training, building muscle, all that. But you need to be careful not to overdo it. You've got to stay in prime shape, not just big. Agility, speed, endurance—that's what makes you a star."
I almost laughed. Was he serious?
"Coach, I'm in the best shape of my life," I said. "I've been lifting heavier, running faster—"
"I'm not saying you're not working hard," Coach interrupted. "I'm just saying, don't let yourself get out of shape. You've got recruiters coming to watch you play. You need to be at your absolute best."
Out of shape? Was he fucking kidding me? I had an eight-pack—well, a six-pack, but it was solid as hell. I was stronger than I'd ever been. This was ridiculous.
"Coach, I'm not letting myself get out of shape," I said firmly. "I know what I'm doing."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Just keep an eye on it. I want you at your best for that game."
"I will be," I said, standing up. "Don't worry."
As I left his office, I shook my head. Coach was such a nut sometimes. As if I'd let myself get out of shape. I was a fucking machine.
The next morning, Phil showed up at my dorm with two protein shakes.
"What's this?" I asked, taking them from him.
"One for now, one for practice later," Phil said. "Figured you could use the extra fuel in the mornings too."
I stared at the shakes, then at Phil. "Dude, why do you want me so muscular? You trying to turn me into the Hulk or something?"
Phil just smiled and reached out, patting my stomach. His hand lingered there for a second, and I felt the firmness of my abs under his palm—or at least, I thought I did. It felt... softer than I expected.
"I'm just being a friend," Phil said. "You've got a big game coming up. I want you to be at your best."
There was something weird about the way he said it, but I shrugged it off. Phil was always a little odd. Maybe he just needed to get laid and focus on his own play instead of obsessing over mine.
"Alright, man," I said. "Thanks, I guess."
I drank the first shake right there, and it was just as thick and delicious as always. Phil watched me the whole time, that same unreadable expression on his face.
"See you at practice," he said, and left.
I finished the shake and wiped my mouth, feeling the familiar heaviness settle in my stomach. Whatever. Phil was weird, but the shakes were working. I was getting bigger and stronger, and that's all that mattered.
By the end of the week, I started noticing something annoying: my pants were getting hard to button.
I stood in front of my mirror, trying to fasten my jeans, and the waistband dug into my stomach. I had to suck in a little to get the button through, and even then, it felt tight.
What the fuck?
I looked at myself in the mirror, turning to the side. My thighs looked thicker, pressing against the denim. My ass filled out the seat of my jeans more than it used to. Even my shirts felt tighter across my chest and shoulders.
But that made sense, right? I was as muscular as a Greek god now. Of course my clothes were getting tight—I was packing on serious size. My arms were huge, my chest was broader, my legs were more powerful. This was just what happened when you got this jacked.
I'd have to go shopping soon, get some bigger clothes to fit this new body. It was a good problem to have, honestly. Most guys would kill to have my physique.
I flexed in the mirror one more time, admiring the way my shirt stretched across my pecs. Yeah, I looked fucking incredible.
Saturday afternoon, I had another project meeting with Ed. I was dreading it as usual, but at least he was doing most of the work. All I had to do was show up and pretend to care.
When I got to the library, Ed was already there with his laptop open. And, of course, he'd brought food. A ridiculous amount of food.
He brought donuts. Not just a box—a massive, family-size box from the fancy bakery downtown. There had to be at least two dozen donuts in there, all different flavors: glazed, chocolate, jelly-filled, cream-filled, sprinkles, the works.
"Jesus Christ, Ed," I said, sitting down. "You planning to feed an army?"
"I just thought we might get hungry," Ed said quietly, not meeting my eyes.
I rolled my eyes and opened my laptop. "Let's just get this over with."
Ed started typing away, working on the presentation while I sat back and watched. I wasn't planning to eat any of the donuts—I had discipline, after all—but the smell was incredible. Sweet, sugary, fresh-baked. My stomach growled.
I'd skipped lunch to hit the gym, and now I was starving.
"You mind if I have one?" I asked, reaching for a glazed donut before Ed could even answer.
"Go ahead," Ed said.
I took a bite, and fuck, it was good. Soft, sweet, melting in my mouth. I finished it in three bites and reached for another one. Then another. Before I knew it, I'd eaten five or six donuts. I wasn't even keeping track.
Ed didn't say anything, just kept typing while I ate. I told myself I was just hungry, that I'd burn it off at practice on Monday. It wasn't a big deal.
By the time we finished the meeting, the donut box was half-empty, and my stomach felt heavy and full. I stood up, feeling the waistband of my jeans dig into my stomach.
"Same time next week?" Ed asked.
"Yeah, sure," I said, already thinking about how I'd need to hit the gym extra hard to work off all those calories.
The following week, I started feeling off. Not sick, exactly, but just... sluggish. Less energetic. During practice, I felt like I was dragging, like my body wasn't responding the way it used to.
"You alright?" one of my teammates asked after I fumbled a pass.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I snapped. "Just caught something, I think."
But it wasn't just one practice. It was every practice that week. I felt slower, heavier, like I was running through mud. My lungs burned faster, my legs felt weaker. I couldn't run circles around the other guys like I usually did.
Coach noticed too. "You feeling okay?" he asked during a water break.
"I'm fine," I said, breathing hard. "Just a little under the weather."
"Well, get some rest," Coach said. "I need you at your best for the big game."
I nodded, but inside, I was frustrated. What the hell was wrong with me? I was eating right (well almost), drinking Phil's shakes, lifting heavier than ever. I should be in peak condition, not feeling like this.
Maybe I just needed to push through it. Get my act together. The recruiters were coming, and I couldn't afford to look weak.
Wednesday afternoon, I stopped by a cafe near campus to grab a quick coffee and sandwich before my next class. I walked in, barely paying attention, and froze when I saw who was behind the counter.
Alex.
The fat guy from Grindr. The guy I'd told to get his shit together.
And he looked even worse than his photos.
His barista uniform was stretched tight across his body, the shirt barely containing his gut. His belly hung over the waistband of his pants, soft and round, jiggling slightly as he moved. I could see the fat of his love handles bulging out on the sides of his apron, spilling over like dough.
What the fuck.
"Hey there," Alex said, smiling at me like we were old friends. "What can I get you?"
I wanted to turn around and leave, but I needed caffeine, and I wasn't about to let some fat loser ruin my day.
"Black coffee and a turkey sandwich," I said curtly.
"Coming right up, big man," Alex said, and his hand reached out to touch my arm. His fingers lingered there for a second, and I jerked away.
"Don't touch me," I said.
Alex just smiled, that same knowing smile, and turned to make my order.
When he handed me the cup and bag, I didn't check it. I just wanted to get out of there. But when I sat down at a table and took a sip of my coffee, I realized it wasn't black. It was sweet and creamy, loaded with sugar and milk.
"What the fuck?" I muttered, opening the bag. Inside, there was my sandwich, but also two extra muffins—huge, chocolate chip muffins that I definitely hadn't ordered.
I should have gone back and told him he messed up my order. But I was hungry, and the muffins smelled amazing, and honestly, I didn't want to deal with Alex again.
So I ate them. Both of them. And the sandwich. And I drank the sweet coffee, even though it wasn't what I wanted.
By the time I finished, I felt bloated, and a little sick. But whatever. It was just one meal. I'd work it off later.
At practice that afternoon, I was still feeling sluggish, but I pushed through. Phil showed up with my shake, and I drank it gratefully, hoping it would give me some energy.
As I was bending over to tie my cleats, Phil walked past and said, "Your ass looks nice and round today."
I straightened up, staring at him. "What the fuck, dude?"
Phil just grinned. "What? I'm just saying. You're looking good."
"You need to get laid, man," I said. "Seriously. You're acting weird."
"I'm just being honest," Phil said, shrugging.
I shook my head and turned away, but his words stuck with me. My ass looked nice and round? What the hell did that mean?
I glanced down at myself, noticing the way my football leggings clung to my body. They did feel tighter than usual, especially around my thighs and ass. The fabric stretched across my glutes, hugging them in a way that felt... different.
But Phil's ass was twice the size of mine, so he could talk.
Still, as I jogged onto the field, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. My clothes were tighter, my body felt heavier, and people kept making weird comments.
But I was just getting more muscular, right? That's what this was. Just gains.
I had to stay focused. The big game was coming, and I needed to be at my best.
Nothing was going to stop me from impressing those recruiters.
Danny never thought he’d actually win that dumb radio contest. He only called in because his roommate dared him to. "Dude," Jason said through a mouthful of cereal, "you have to do it. Imagine winning a month in the mountains, just chilling, no work, no class, no pressure."
Danny rolled his eyes but dialed anyway, phone pressed to his ear while his laptop screen glowed with half-finished assignments. "Just for the hell of it," he muttered, amused.
The trivia round was simple: name five state capitals in under ten seconds. He rattled them off, barely trying. To his surprise, the DJ erupted in cheers. "We have a winner! Danny from Ridgeport, congrats! You just won an all-expense-paid, four-week retreat to the Timber Ridge Lodge!"
Danny blinked. He laughed. And then he forgot about it for a few days—until the email arrived. The paperwork. The logistics. It was real.
Two weeks later, Danny found himself standing at the base of a long gravel drive that carved a winding path through dense pine forest. His breath fogged in the crisp mountain air. A massive log-built lodge loomed ahead, rustic yet pristine, framed by evergreen trees and capped with a mossy green roof. The Timber Ridge Lodge.
The car ride had been long, and he hadn’t seen a single bar of reception for at least thirty minutes. Even the driver who dropped him off didn’t say much. Danny had always considered himself a city guy. He liked convenience, efficiency, signal strength. This? This was something else entirely.
The heavy front door creaked open, and out stepped a tall, broad man in flannel and jeans. His beard was thick but well-kept, chestnut brown streaked with gold, and his eyes were warm, blue, and disarmingly steady. "Danny, right?" he said, extending a calloused hand. "Name's Cole. Welcome to the Ridge."
Danny took the hand, swallowed the nerves in his throat. "Yeah, hey. This place is... huge."
Cole gave a low chuckle, clapping Danny on the back. "It’s home. Come on, let’s get you settled."
Inside, the air was rich with the scent of cinnamon, woodsmoke, and something faintly sweet—baked apples, maybe. A fire crackled in the great hall, where overstuffed armchairs and blankets made the place feel more like a cozy cabin than a luxury lodge.
Cole led Danny down a hallway and opened the door to his room: a spacious suite with a plush bed, fireplace, and enormous windows overlooking the piney woods. No TV. No outlets. Just peace.
"Meals are served in the main dining room," Cole said. "Breakfast at eight, lunch at one, dinner at seven. But the kitchen's always stocked if you're hungry between."
Danny raised a brow. "Always?"
"Always," Cole said with a grin. "This place is all about comfort. We believe in letting people decompress. Get back to what feels good."
The first few days passed slowly. Danny explored the grounds, wandered wooded trails, read books by the fire, even journaled for the first time in years. It was quiet, oddly calming.
There were seven other guests—all men, all around his age or a bit older. Mick, a chatty guy with a soft gut and constant snack in hand. Brian, tall and quiet, his thick legs packed into sweatpants. Shawn, bearded and easygoing, who always seemed to be refilling his plate.
Meals were ridiculous. Breakfasts of syrup-drenched pancakes, sausage links glistening with grease, cinnamon rolls the size of a fist. Lunch was comfort food: grilled cheese, thick stews, sandwiches stacked tall. And dinner? Roast meats, buttery potatoes, casseroles, desserts so sweet they made Danny’s teeth ache.
At first, he restrained himself. Took modest portions, skipped dessert, opted for tea over cocoa. But soon, the smells got to him. The textures. The warmth of fresh bread, the crisp sear on roasted meat. One day he reached for seconds. The next, he started sitting with Mick and Shawn, who always joked about having "second stomachs."
"The trick," Mick told him with a wink, "is to eat past full. That’s when you start to really enjoy it."
Danny laughed it off, but the next day, he had three slices of pie. Just to see.
By the end of the first week, changes began to appear.
Danny woke one morning to find his hoodie tugging tightly at his midsection. When he reached to stretch, the hem rode up, exposing a soft curve. He stood in front of the mirror, pulling up his shirt. A small mound pushed outward just above his waistband—not huge, but new. His hips looked broader, his thighs fuller. His face—rounder? It was hard to say.
He told himself it was just water weight. The mountain air. The salty food. But when he walked, he could feel it: a slight jiggle, the way his sweatpants clung to his thighs more snugly than before. Even his butt looked different—rounder, higher, like it was swelling slowly against the fabric.
He skipped lunch that day.
That evening, Cole found him out on the porch, staring at the trees.
"Everything alright?" Cole asked, leaning against the railing.
Danny hesitated. "I think I'm gaining weight."
Cole nodded slowly, not surprised. "Most people do here. We don’t fight our appetites."
Danny looked down at his stomach. "It just... snuck up on me."
Cole stepped closer. "It’s not a bad thing. Your body’s just telling you what it wants."
Danny didn’t respond. His stomach gave a loud, ungraceful growl.
Cole chuckled. "Come on. I saved you a plate."
Danny followed him back inside.
Week two was when things really began to shift. Danny stopped trying to resist. He started leaning into it, just a little. An extra biscuit here. A fourth pancake there. When his jeans got too tight to button, he switched to sweatpants permanently. Shirts began hugging his belly, bunching at the sides. His thighs rubbed when he walked. His ass bounced when he moved too fast.
He liked it. A little too much.
One morning, he caught a whiff of something different when he lifted his arm. Muskier. Stronger. Not bad, but... new. His deodorant wasn’t cutting it. And yet, he didn’t really mind. It made him feel present. Real.
Shawn noticed, too. "You’re starting to get that lodge scent," he joked.
"Lodge scent?"
"Sweat, woodsmoke, butter, and masculinity," Shawn grinned.
Danny flushed.
By the end of the second week, he couldn’t deny it. He was gaining fast. His belly was soft and heavy now, hanging over his waistband when he sat. His face was rounder, cheeks always flushed from warmth and food. His chest had softened, and his arms felt heavier when he moved.
He caught himself lifting his shirt after meals just to rub at his stomach. The pressure felt good. Soothing.
The third week was indulgent.
Danny became known for his appetite. The kitchen staff smiled when they saw him coming. He started asking for more. Ate late at night. Woke up ravenous. He kept snacks by his bed, snuck pastries between meals. One night, Brian handed him a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. "Emergency fuel," he winked.
Danny didn’t question it.
Cole began inviting him to join him for late-night talks by the fire. They sat in armchairs, bellies heavy with dinner, sipping cocoa and sharing quiet words.
"You look good," Cole said one night, his voice low.
Danny blushed. "You really think so?"
Cole nodded. "You’ve settled into yourself."
Danny looked down at his belly—soft, round, nestled comfortably in his lap. He smiled.
I wanted to start by saying you look great! I used to follow your account on YouTube and a long time ago you had a video up with you and this really fit guy. I was wondering if you took it down or if you still had it. I have a gainer buddy and I told him the video reminded me of the contrast between him and myself but I can’t find it. If ya don’t have it no worries I just thought I would ask! Thanks!
Thank you so much! YouTube actually took that video down only about a week ago. After having it up for 8 years they decided it violated their terms. But I'm sure Tumblr won't have a problem, so here it is!
Hope your gainer friend enjoys and I'd love to see a pic of you two sometime!
Handsome performer at 178cm and around 100 kilos, more than open to gain weight. He has never been skinny, but has been a lot fatter (120 kg) but lost weight due to personal issues.
He plays rugby also, so the extra weight comes in handy.
The Dragonborn was a handsome young Nord named Baldur with shoulder-length fair hair, a lantern jaw and eyes as blue as the ocean. He bore a hero’s physique: large round pectoral muscles, a firm, flat muscled belly and biceps as round and full as two melons and thighs as thick and veined as a tree trunk. His beauty was the envy of hundreds, as well as the lust, but he was pure as the driven snow, in all aspects the perfect hero.
As he sought to battle the great dragon Alduin, the Dragonborn needed allies: companions, followers and factions to bolster his cause and make victory achievable. For a warrior of his physique, the Companions of Whiterun seemed the obvious choice: a brotherhood of strong fighters from an ancient lineage and tradition. The Dragonborn did not struggle to pass their tests, besting many foes and competing trials of strength, brawn and bravery - and he found the furs and leathers favored by the Companions freeing and showed off his magnificent body.
Unbeknownst to the Dragonborn however, the inner Circle of the Companions had a secret, one he discovered when he was initiated into the Companions fully - and would change both him, his appetites and his belly forever.
Baldur was stripped to his waist, wearing only a fur skirt around his thick, veined thighs. He was very conscious of how visible the outline of his manhood was, how the cold hardened his full round nipples. He was flushed with wine, and his bare belly - ribbed with muscle - growled as he was led into the ceremonial inner chamber. He had been instructed not to eat for the days leading up to his initiation and he was feeling the effects in his poor stomach.
The room was filled with the leaders of the Companions, similarly attired. Kodlak, Skjor - potent, one with long hair running over his muscled bare chest, the other bald and ripped with muscle, though both sporting incongruous pot-bellies. Aela, the only woman, naked too, and Baldur blushed and looked away from her - into the equally attractive voluptuous forms of the twins Farkas and Vilkas, both cocky, well-built young men with chesnut hair and full round pecs, and now two twin pot bellies with big deep belly buttons in the middle of their sot fleshy guts. Farkas winked, Vilkas rubbed his gut as Baldur approached.
There was one member Baldur didn’t realise: a handsome honey-eyed young man, completely naked but for an amulet that depicted a plump rabbit, and a large ring adorning his cock. He swayed on the spot, full chest sweating and adorned with a surprisingly big round belly, audibly gurgling and sloshing. Beneath the belly - Baldur blushed even further. The lad was heroically endowed. There were runes written on his belly, but Baldur was not so advanced in the speech to understand them.
“Who is this?” Baldur asked, as the lad, who was obviously drugged or drunk, swayed on the spot. Farkas clapped the lad on the belly which bounced and wobbled enticingly. “Don’t worry about him. You’ll find out what he’s for later,” and the cheeky young man then gave Baldur’s bare flat stomach a playful rub. Baldur flushed, aware his arousal was very visible in the loose cloth around his loins.
Vilkas, pecs heaving as he jogged around the table, picked up a huge heavy chalice and handed it to Baldur. He rubbed his own notable potbelly that he sported above a visible erection, indicating Baldur should drink.
“I’m sure he got that, brother,” Farkas said. “Unless you’d like to be fed?”
“He’s going to be doing the feeding…” Vilkas said, but was hushed by a fist in the beefy bicep by his twin.
The Dragonborn was surprised by the chalice - filled with a potent mix of blood and what must be seed. He wondered idly if the Companions had filled it themselves. He flushed as he imagined the handsome, cheeky, well built twins Farkas and Vilkas spilling themselves into the bronze cup. Such lustful thoughts were unbecoming of a hero with the fate of the world resting upon his broad, muscular shoulders..
He drank deeply, imbibing the thick, rich fluid - his belly already groaning as it entered the pit of his stomach. He felt immediately drunk, the heady liquid barely filling an empty belly. He swayed on the spot: by the Nine what had they put in this? He staggered, clutched the stone round table, saw the ring of grinning faces around him: Farkas and Vilkas practically licking their lips, Skjor placing his hands on the naked lad’s shoulders and pushing him forward.
Baldur’s stomach let out a deeply embarrassing groan. The handsome pure hero sought to apologise, but he found what emerged from his throat was practically a growl. He felt heavy, hot, itchy: he had growing pains all over. He knocked the chalice away with - with a claw? He looked down, his normally smooth pectorals covered in growing hair. No, he shook his head, tried to focus. Fur. His belly let out another groan, insistent, urgent. And there, before him, belly sloshing and wobbling, was a feast… Baldur showed his teeth - and began to feed.
Dawn woke him lying in a tangle of blankets. Baldur was not in his usual room, instead lying in what appeared to be a cell, albeit a comfortable one. A barred window high above let dawn light trickle in and dapple his bare belly. Baldur stretched in comfort, feeling as sated and satisfied as though he’d just had the best lovemaking of his life, watching his big pectorals draw up as his thick arms locked over his head. And his vast slab of belly stretch too with the motion.
Baldur’s eyes widened as he looked down the rolling planes of his twin pectorals to where his gut rose up massively, huge and smooth, a great slab of belly that was somehow his own. It rose up like a hill immediately below his already large, round chest muscles, cresting like a wave to flatten out at its apex, before descending again just below his bellybutton, which was itself a huge yawning mouth set just below the centre of this stupendous dome of naked belly. The sides of this prodigious, pendulous new gut spilled out, his belly much wider than his broad frame and slim waist made up for in proportion.
Tentatively, Baldur reached down to squeeze the sides of his newly engorged gut and was surprised how warm and sweat-drenched his gut was. It moved gently, gurgling and blorting as though it was processing a massive meal. What in Sovngarde had he eaten, Baldur wondered, idly running his hands along the lower curve of his mighty gut. He was surprised how good it felt. He began to massage and squeeze that vast drum of belly he’d somehow grown - the belly he’d made - his fingers caressing warm, soft, smooth flesh. Below his waist, he began to feel himself growing aroused. He gasped with surprise as he felt his heroic member harden and stick against the undercurve of that vas bloated belly of his. He was naked - how had that happened? WHat had he done at the ritual?
But such thoughts flew from his handsome, dark-blonde head as he felt his wet cockhead begin to frot against the undercurve of his big fat belly and he continued to rub and massage and then gently slap his newly distended bare belly. It was as erotic experience as the young hero had ever had - it was like his belly had suddenly become an enormous erogenous zone. By Talos, his nipples were so hard and his loins were throbbing, hips thrusting of their own accord as he rubbed his large cock up and down against the underside of his bloated bare belly. He had never felt so good in all his life
And then as he rubbed his midsection, he found one finger entering that yawning chasm of his navel, and beginning to explore. By the Nine, he was so deep now, and the orifice so tight that when he pulled his finger out, it emerged with a pop that shook his belly up and down. The jiggling of that huge mound of stretched, utterly satisfied gut sent waves of pleasure through the hero’s muscled, handsome body and some of his seed dribbled from his engorged, throbbing cockhead to glaze his lower belly.
Baldur moaned, the sound emerging from his full pink lips, surprising him - what is someone could overhear him and understood what he was doing? But then he looked down again at that big slab of gut he’d somehow made and felt his cock bounce and lay back, causing his belly to bounce and wobble on top of him. He put one bicep behind his head to rest on, using his free hand to move across the huge area of his bare belly, feeling goosebumps as he caressed the warm, soft, sweaty expanse of his naked gut. Massaging his big bare belly as it digested whatever he’d filled it up with so enormously. He could do this forever he thought, as he felt his belly gurgle and gave it a congratulatory pat, causing the pink smooth swollen gut to bounce.
The movement also caused him to belch, a great belly-shaking emission and something landed on the middle of his belly, just above the bellybutton with a wet slap. He could taste honey and mead on his breath as he belched. Surprised, and embarrassed to have made such a loud noise, Baldur reached down to pick up what had just emerged from inside his colossal new gut. It appeared to be a … an amulet? He reached down, and plucked it from where the amulet had entered his deep bellybutton, moaning with pleasure as the metal stroked the sides of the wide, deep orifice as he pulled it out by the chains. Holding it up to the dawnlight, Baldur made out a familiar image on the amulet: a plump rabbit.
Baldur dropped the amulet back onto his belly where it landed with a meaty thud, wobbling his great swollen gut. He gazed down at his belly, pinching the sides and wobbling it deliberately. No movement within, except for a happy gurgle from his new satisfied belly. What could have made him develop such an enormous, distended gut so quickly - overnight? How could the amulet of that handsome lad, worn about his neck, ended up inside his mighty gut? Unless …
His belly let out another ominous rumble, sloshing and gurgling as Baldur stroked the sides of his new greatly engorged belly. Baldur clapped a hand over his mouth to try and forestall an embarrassing repetition of earlier - if his belly had really done what he wondered he did not want to be caught here. But his belly once again overpowered him and a great belch emerged, causing his chest to heave and his belly to bounce, and out came a familiar ring rolling to a stop just above his big bellybutton before descending into the depths of that tight, deep orifice with a wet thud. Baldur did not need to fish it out of his bellybutton to recognise that ring - last seen adorning the aroused member of the handsome lad from the initiation. He could maybe account for the lad’s amulet ending up inside his mighty gut - but his cockring? Baldur strokes his groaning smug gut in worried contemplation. It was the only thing that could account for its sudden quadrupling in size and heft. He’d eaten someone.
He stroked his great gut, his big man-eating belly, he realised, almost absent-mindedly. His heart raced, his big pecs rising and falling. But still the waves of pleasure emerged from his oversized belly as it digested someone - that handsome lad from last night, now just meat digesting inside his swollen filled out gut. His cock remained at full mast, twitching and throbbing as it rubbed against his big belly. Everything felt so good, and so right - yet he’d used his belly to snuff out a life. He traced his belly with both hands (it felt like the few times he’d taken his hard cock in both hands - his belly was now essentially a sex object, he realised) imagining idly the outline of the lad curled up inside the great gut, wondering if he could still feel him - or if he was just meat now, just food being digested to nourish his huge belly.
Baldur shook his head, horrified with himself. What was he doing? He’d eaten someone. He was a monster. His belly had committed a great crime, and he was lying here soothing it - worse, actually masturbating. He needed to get help, maybe this could be undone…
With a chorus of gurgles and blorts from his vast swinging belly, Baldur struggled to his feet, belly spilling out under his heaving bared pectorals, wobbling and sloshing as it rolled out below his heroic chest, great bellybutton yawning just below the middle of his swell of gut.
Watching from outside the cell, Farkas grinned at his twin brother, and rubbed his own much smaller bare potbelly. “Think our hero’s figuring it out,” he said with a cocky smirk.
Varkas laughed and patted his potbelly. “Pity, I was hoping he’d spill and glaze that poor lad before he got up.” He looked down at his own erection tentpoling his loincloth. “He does look good with it bouncing around as he stumbles about though,”
Farkas nodded, idly brushing a hand over his own swelling crotch. “I suppose we should let him out. He’s not going to be a danger to anyone while he’s got that big fat belly.”
Vilkas grinned and produced a key. “I suppose someone ought to tell him what’s what.” He looked into the cell where Baldur had stopped mid-stride, and arms locked over his head, looking deeply conflicted while he thrust his hips forward so his big wet cockhead rubbed against the undercurve of his filled out swollen bare belly.
“Talos’ tits,” Vilkas said, eyes wide. “Reminds me of our first time. Remember?”
Farkas looked down at his own man-filled bared potbelly and gave it an affectionate pat. “Like it was yesterday, brother.”
Hours later, Baldur was standing outside the hall, the cold sunlight spilling down over his still bare belly. He had donned such of his armor as would fit, braces on his arms, the guards on his legs, the plates above and below his chest - but his big round belly was fully on display as were his pecs, which had somehow increased in size, surrounded by metal armor. His belly bounced slightly in the wind as his fellow Companions congratulated him on his first feast - or his first bellying as they called it. His belly groaned and gurgled as it hung there, big bellybutton gaping in the swell of that smooth round gut.
“How can I be a hero,” Baldur muttered, rubbing his big bare belly idly, “If I eat people and put them in my belly.” He massaged the soft flesh around his bellybutton, jiggling his big post-vore gut up and down as he did so.
“You’ll learn control,” Vilkas said, rubbing his own much smaller vore belly idly.
“Says you. Bannered Mare’s never been through so many potboys. Or Vilkas so many potbellies..” Farkas muttered, earning a slap in his own naked round gut from his twin.
Skjor frowned and patted the sides of his own engorged gut. “Vilkas is right. You’ll learn to control your transformation. And your appetites. If you wish to only fill your belly with bandits and miscreants, that is you and your belly’s prerogative.” He slapped his own gut. “Mine is a stalwart champion for good. But as long as you follow Lord Hircine of the Hunt’s needs, the gift if yours to do as you will.”
“A hero of your stature, and your burden, will need to keep his appetite strong. Develop his muscles. If you wish to challenge a man-eating god, you must become one yourself,” Aela the huntress put in, obviously admiring Baldur’s big bare blonde belly. “However you do it, it will ultimately benefit all of Skyrim. All of the world.”
“His belly’s big as a province,” Farkas said, eyes big as he took in that round fleshy expanse that wobbled below Baldur’s big pectorals.
“It is the gift of a Daedric prince,” Kodlak said, folding his arms above his own oversized naked stomach, he always eating whenever there was an initiation, the prerogative of the Harbinger. “Any bellyf wasilling is an offering to him: the choice of who best to sacrifice to your belly is yours, Dragonborn.”
Baldur belched, and the air was briefly honey-scented. He caressed his own big bare belly tentatively, a conflicted expression on his face. “Who was he?” he said, referring to his own belly - or perhaps the lad filling it up.
Skjor looked over at Farkas, who had procured him. Farkas shrugged and patted his belly. “Food, right?”
Vilkas rolled his eyes. “A lad selling counterfeit mead. Smuggling, stealing from the Mare, a wrong sort. Not much use - except as bellyfilling,” he said admiringly of Baldur’s belly which groaned as though in appreciation for the meal it had been fed.
“Maybe he didn’t deserve this,” Baldur said, rubbing his very contented big stomach, stretched out with the meat of a handsome lad, now being processed into bellyfat and muscle. “He could have been anything. Now he’s just my belly.”
Kodlak rolled his eyes and big bare post-vore belly swinging, brushing his long hair out of his face, marched across to Baldur, whose own big round bare belly protruded massively outwards - and stuck his finger deep into that inviting tight, deep bellybutton and began to wiggle his finger around. Baldur groaned, eyes rolling in his skull, and his cock popped out of its codpiece and climaxed, erupting all over his big bouncing man-eating belly and all over Kodlak’s big bare man-eater too. His pecs heaved up and down with climax and exertion and his belly bounced and wobbled, now glazed with the Dragonborn’s seed.
“Did that feel wrong to you, Companion?” Kodlak snapped. Baldur shook his head (his other head still twitching and already aroused again as it rubbed up against his boy-belly)
“No,” Baldur admitted. He moaned and rubbed his naked stretched out swollen belly. “I think - I think he wants to do it again. I think I want to hunt. And feed. And show off my conquests - my trophies. My bellies. I want to be big-bellied and strong and have a gut to compare to Alduin the World-Eater. I want to eat handsome young men and turn them into bellies.”
Kodlak grinned and the Companions applauded in the traditional fashion, clapping their big wobbling vore-bellies. Kodlak gave Baldur’s newly initiated man-stuffed gut with affection. “There. You’re one of us now. So stop your bellyaching. And start your bellymaking.” Baldur flushed, but grinned back, knowing neither he nor his belly would ever be the same again.
Wait ‘till you see his booty. This must be the most pear-shaped male body I’ve ever seen. This fat slob’s acting like he’s ‘Prince Charming’, but he looks more like ‘Prince Farming’ of the piggy farm. What a pudgy porker!
