The Straight and (Not So) Narrow
When Shane decides to let go of his bad habits and turn his life around, he grows in more ways then he expected...
.....The Saturday night before his third class Shane was reclined on the couch, eyes flying over his laptop screen as he pushed another oreo into his mouth. While the pre-packaged alternative didn’t hold a candle to the options offered at Can't Sleep Cookies and therefore did nothing to reduce the size of his order, he did find the creme filled treats to be an excellent studying snack, and often found himself working through the package in a matter of hours.
Entirely unbenounced to him, his frame was beginning to reflect his new eating habits, and his recent calorie glut left him looking softer all over, bloated with a layer of new fat he hadn't been carrying less than a month before. His abs had quickly grown soft and disappeared, a change that Shane noted, but considering that a sculpted six pack was a very recent development on his body in the first place, hardly cared enough to miss.
He’d yet to notice however, the quickly developing roundness of his ever softening middle, nor the way thighs, arms, and chest were bulking out with new mass. Due to the baggy clothes he’d been sporting because of his discomfort with his formerly svelte figure, Shane had yet to notice the weight piling up, and the more he overfed himself, the hungrier he became.
His typical nightly order at Can’t Sleep now included 7 cookies and three large glasses of milk, a startling escalation from just a few weeks ago. He finished this final meal of the night so stuffed that he often found it too taxing to stagger off to bed and instead lay beached on the couch as sleep overtook him. The massive increase in sodium and sudden weight gain seemed to be affecting his face nearly as much as his gut, and while he failed to attribute the issue to his diet, even he noticed how bloated and puffy he was appearing each morning. He’d decided that his newly swollen features were a result of insufficient sleep, leading to the addition of the third glass of milk to his nightly order.
He reached for another cookie, frowning as he realized he’d polished off the package, and grabbed for the half eaten bag of salt and vinegar chips next to instead, stuffing down a handful so absently he hardly seemed to notice it. Eating, or more accurately, overeating, had become his default, and between deliveries and constant snack consumption there was hardly a moment out of the day when his mouth wasn't full.
He finished his nightly feast of cookies and the three servings of Can’t Sleep’s addictively creamy milk and closed his eyes contentedly, satisfied with more than just his final meal of the day. He was headed into his third class tomorrow and he finally felt semi confident, finally wasn't dreading the sound of his alarm the next morning.
Shane scarfed down the last of the three breakfast burritos he’d had delivered as he got ready that morning, already running a bit late due to his body's recent necessity for an early morning breakfast. He brushed his hands off on each other to rid them of any crumbs and grabbed a random pair of slacks hanging in his closet, his usual Sunday attire. He stepped into each leg and tugged the pants towards his waist, confused to meet more resistance than he was used to, and grabbed the pants button flaps only to be stopped in his tracks.
His gut, protruding with a roundness he’d assured himself was nothing more than bloat from his increased dairy consumption, pushed between the two flaps and prevented them from meeting, and Shane held a hand to his middle in irritation, never once considering the annoyance as anything more than an inability to properly digest lactose.
He grabbed each side and tugged, grunting a little, and found the pants still refused to close, if only by a few centimeters. He took a deep breath, sucked in, and finally fastened his slacks, breathing out in relief as the button slid into place. The waistband immediately cut into him with a tightness he’d never experienced in any piece of clothing before and he shifted uncomfortably, tugging at it as if there were an inch of free room.
I don't have time for this, he thought, turning away from his closet and letting the experience of struggling to button his pants for the first time slip from his mind as quickly as it had happened.
“Hey!” A voice called from down the hall as Shane was locking his classroom after a successful third lesson. “Shane!”
He turned to see Assistant Pastor Morgan striding towards him with a wide smile.
“I’ll walk you out?” she offered as she neared.
“I’ve been hearing great things,” Pastor Morgan all but sang. “I told you you would be great.”
“Really? People have been…Wow. Yea. I feel like it's going well. I feel like I'm really connecting, you know?”
“I can tell. You’ve been chatting with people during fellowship, you don't sit in the back pew anymore in service, you’re really making an effort to become part of the community. It's such a joy to see.”
Shane beamed, almost embarrassed at how thrilled he was to receive her compliments. Validation from someone he reported that much was something he didn't realize he was missing in his formerly structureless life, and Pastor Morgan’s praise touched a long dormant emotion, the same triggered when he’d agreed to lead a small group in the first place.
“Oh,” Pastor Morgan exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. “I completely forgot about the leftovers, just one sec,” she said, turning away from the parking lot and back towards the fellowship hall.
“Leftovers?” Shane asked.
“Yea,” Pastor Morgan explained over her shoulder. “The New Testament had loaves and fishes, but we have cookies and brownies. Come on, help me with the boxes and you can take a few home.”
Shane left that day with 2 boxes worth of nearly expired chocolate chip cookies and demolished them over the course of a few days, eating so much and so frequently with the goal of finishing the cookies before they expired that he felt his jaw growing tired. In order to help him through the cookies he’d purchased several more gallons of milk through grocery delivery, but he found it so lacking compared to the sweet, silky texture of the milk from his midnight snacks that he’d begun to mix heavy cream into his glasses, creating a concoction he found lacking, but passable.
That kind of gluttony was becoming commonplace so quickly, and the more Shane ate, the hungrier he felt. As the weeks went on his days blended into one meal after another, one delivery after the next, and the only times he was forced out of his ever tightening gym clothes to face the effects that his overconsumption was having on his body were on Sundays.
Otherwise, he sat beached on his couch in boxers so tight the puffy fat begging to encircle his waist bulged outwards even more dramatically than it otherwise would, quivering with Shane's every movement. Beyond the love handles, the gut he was developing had become a permanently rounded, firm ball of fat that was growing heavy and more bloated by the day, and the ever swelling orb was now bulging into Shane's lap whenever he was sitting down, which was 90% of his day. His thighs were straining the boxers underequipped for the size he’d become, and his fattening face was just begging to sprout a double chin.
As vehemently as he attempted to ignore his expansion, the impact that his growing body was having on his day to day life was growing more difficult for Shane to ignore. By his second month as a small group leader he’d been forced to replace his church wardrobe, even the baggy fit of his clothes not enough to keep them from constantly tearing or bursting open, occurrences that Shane thanked god had only happened in private as he’d attempted to get ready. The changes to his body were becoming more and more obvious but Shane couldn't stop himself, couldn't break his new pattern of overfilling his now hefty gut every available second.
He glutted himself whenever he could and attempted to convince himself that he couldn’t feel his frame getting thicker and flabbier, couldn't feel the weight piling on at breakneck speed while stretch marks crawled their way across his impressively gelatinous love handles. He could feel his body in motion as he walked now, feel the uncontrollable oscillations of the fat bulging off of him jiggling in separate directions, and the stress of the situation only made him hungrier, only convinced him he needed to increase the size of his nightly snack to get more rest.
Can't Sleep Cookies had introduced a line of ice cream, and a pint was now included on each of Shane's pre bedtime orders. He’d taken to melting the carton in the microwave and drinking it straight down, a method he utilized to both save time and avoid brain freeze, leaving him sucking down 1500 calories of butterfat vanilla in ever-decreasing timespans. The old Shane would never chug melted ice cream while his belly peeked out of the bottom of an xl t-shirt, but Shane didn't identify with the old Shane anymore. His habits were so different, his mentality was so different, his entire life was so different that Shane somehow found it easier to justify the insatiable pig he’d become, to somehow separate it from himself and who he truly was.
Shane lumbered into the sanctuary for church in his fourth month as a small group leader, so obscenely overstuffed he was nearly waddling. He’d gorged himself all morning, woken up early to do so in fact, and the modicum of self-control that prevented him from overfilling himself before attending church seemed to have slipped away entirely. He stifled a burp as he settled himself into a middle pew and was horrified as it creaked beneath him, an entirely new development that was coloring his cheeks pink as he sent up a silent prayer that no one else heard.
Ignoring the consequences of his caloric debauchery over the last several months was easier when he was alone in his home with nothing more pressing than his outgrown sweatpants and the occasional shocking glance in the mirror to shame him for what he was eating himself into. Here, in public, it was more difficult to pretend his weight wasn't snowballing out of control.
He left service that day starving. The interval between his breakfast and his next meal was agonizingly long compared to his typical constant grazing, and he’d stuffed himself silly that morning for that exact reason. He’d become even more confident in his leadership abilities in class, not because of his advanced experience, but because he was beginning to care more about the meal he planned afterwards than he did about stressing himself over potential mistakes.
He made his way to the fellowship hall, stifling another burp as he felt his jostling, swaying belly strain against the lower buttons of his shirt. More than the outgrown clothes, more than the heavy binges sitting on his stomach and weighing him down, Shane was begging to feel so uncomfortable in his own skin. He was in a constant state of holding back. Sucking in his stomach as best as she could to hold back his button, holding back the overfull burps that always pushed their way up his throat whenever he moved. He wanted to place a hand on his tight, aching gut, still sore from his earlier pig out despite the hour that had passed, but he was still able to muster up enough denial to believe no one would notice his new shape if he didn't call attention to it.
He made his way to the refreshment table in the fellowship room, saying his hello’s to the familiar faces, and grabbed a handful of cookies, stuffing one in his mouth before turning around.
“You might wanna lay off the desserts,” he heard Emily chide behind him.
He turned, the color rising in his cheeks once more as he chewed ferociously, his now prominent double chin quivering ever so slightly with the effort.
“Hi Emily,” he finally greeted shamefully.
“First I couldn't get you to come to fellowship, now every time I see you're slamming like, 6 cookies,” she pointed out, grabbing one from the handful clutched in his plump fist. “These cookies are huge Shane, you only need one,” she informed him, staring down at the ball of fat pushing towards her.
Shane just nodded and stuffed another cookie in his mouth, too embarrassed with the confrontation of reality to answer.
“Seriously, Shane,” Emily implored, lowering her voice. “You have to watch what you're eating, you’ve been getting….”
“I mean, I don't know if something's going on with you, or if you need emotional support or something, but you're getting really big.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Shane muttered noncomitally through his oversized mouthful after a beat, looking away.
“You don't know?” Emily repeated incredulously. “Shane, those clothes look like they're about to explode off of you, you look like an entirely different person. I mean seriously, your face is so different. Everything is different.”
Shane pressed another cookie into his mouth, unable to form a response and willing the floor to swallow him as quickly as she was swallowing the church's refreshments.
“This can't be healthy,” Emily insisted. “C’mon. Just come to yoga with me or something. It's a super easy class, I'm positive you could still keep up.”
Shane sighed. He knew for a fact he couldn't keep up, knew because the most exercise he got these days was a slow trod from the couch to the fridge, but he also knew that Emily wouldn't drop it.
“Alright,” he muttered, still unable to meet her eye. “I’ll go.”
“You’re not gonna go,” she correctly assessed. “Come on Shane. You have to do something, you look… I mean, you look pretty fat.”
Shane nodded again, ears burning.
“No more cookies today, ok?” she said with a poke, sinking her finger into the still squishy top layer of pudge coating Shane's drum tight ball gut and nearly making him groan from the pressure.
Shane broke his promise within minutes, demolishing the rest of the cookies in his hand and going back for second and thirds as he milled about and chatted, exhausted from standing as long as he had. He’d taken to leading his small group seated, and after he walked into his classroom and plopped himself down in the room's office chair, he was horrified to find it creaking as well.
Despite the obvious explanation for his sudden humiliation with multiple pieces of furniture, Shane completely failed to consider that his decision to switch milk for heavy cream entirely had accelerated the pace of his weight gain so quickly it was like he was inflating. He was waking up fatter every morning and worsening the problem by chugging the fattening cream like it was water, leading to a potent cycle of gluttony, hunger, and chubby new rolls popping up in places Shane hadn't even considered.
He rested a hand on the crest of his now even tighter gut and finally let out a loud burp, grateful to be alone in the classroom if even for a brief moment. He rubbed his gut in gentle circles, feeling the way his belly fat strained out of the gaps between his lower buttons like tiny diamonds of extra lard. He couldn't hide it, he certainly couldn't suck in, and that meant teaching as he visibly tested the limits of his clothing in front of the entire group.
He turned his head as the door opened and three of the nearby seminary school’s students burst in chatting, so deep in conversation with one another that they failed to notice Shane was already in the room. His hand flew off his gut and he swiveled to greet the girls, only to meet three faces clearly holding back laughter.
Shane smiled the same embarrassed grin that Emily had brought forth in him, mortified as he felt their eyes on the swollen lump of lard pushing its way further into his lap than it ever had.
“Hi,” he finally eked out, and all three girls giggled and headed to the back of the classroom, whispering and stealing glances at Shane beached in the shrinking office chair with every extra pound on display.
No amount of embarrassment, discomfort, or horror at the blob he was becoming was enough to dissuade Shane however, and the more evidence life provided him of the unsustainability of his excessive diet, the more he ate. He was growing at an obscene rate, and he was forced to size up his wardrobe twice more in the next few months, the extra room in his new clothes actually pushing him to eat more in order to feel the familiar tightness of a waistband digging into the fat roll on his hip.
His body had changed even more, bloated further into obesity than he ever thought possible for himself, and he responded to his fears about the permanence of his constant gorging with enough food to dull his senses and ensure he could only think of the pressure in his middle. He had developed a stack of rolls on his widening back that sat atop his exaggeratedly blubbery love handles and made it even more difficult to button his struggling dress shirts, especially considering that his pecs had melted into plump, wobbling man tits that were beginning to sag towards his generous gut ever so slightly.
His upper arms were fattened hams of lard and his fingers were getting so chubby he swore he was losing dexterity. He was literally getting so fat it was growing difficult for him to type. He was also finding his desk chair tighter and tighter, the unforgiving arms pressing into his tubby sides as his ass and hips spread further than the chair’s width and left him spilling out of its gaps. He’d packed on so much extra blubber onto his thighs that he would've been forced to waddle even without the unbalancing weight of his massive belly, and his waddle was only growing more pronounced as he descended further and further into the obesity that had taken over his life.
Although he’d stayed true to his promise to avoid alcohol, Shane was sporting what looked suspiciously like an enormously exaggerated beer gut, and he was packing on new weight so quickly that the firm, thick swell was defining gravity, remaining a solid hunk of lard and refusing to droop into rolls. This made the changes in Shane even more noticeable, and he found himself pink with embarrassment every time he so much as stepped outside of his house. There was no hiding what he’d become and he knew it, even if he now refused to make eye contact with himself in the mirror. Inspecting his fattening form felt like looking in a funhouse mirror, felt like an impossibility that Shane needn't worry himself with, and although he hadn't had a good look at himself in months, he knew he was unrecognizable.
Shane waddled towards his classroom in his 9th month of lessons, panting as he crammed another cookie into his piggish face. He was…
*I hope you enjoyed this mid chapter snippet of The Straight and Not So Narrow! The full story is over 11,600 words and can be found on my Patreon and my Substack!
This commission was really fun to write (although i've never received a commission that specifically requested a religious setting, that was a first lol) and I love the way it turned out. Shane goes on to get massive and finds himself in some humiliating/fattening situations, and it was so fun that this commissioner wanted really detailed descriptions of Shane's growing body.
This may be weird lol, but this is the first story of mine that I've gone back to to read just for fun. I often read my stories to edit them or see where I could improve, but I liked this one so much that I genuinely love re-reading it as if I don't know what's going to happen next lol. Excited to be uploading several commissions over the next few days, so be on the lookout!
Thank you so much for reading!*
