285 pounds these days, or would that number be just a little bit higher? Why have any willpower when it comes to satisfying that big round mound of flesh you've worked so hard to grow? I know that you probably push yourself back from a delicious, lengthy, rib-sticking meal, muffling a deep manly belch, somewhat self-conscious perhaps about the size of your full belly -- but why not treat yourself more? Pop open those tight pants, relax that swollen abdomen, let that tight shirt inch up the circumference of that happy belly, and get a breath in before you dig in again. You know you want to. Just another burger, just another slice, just another taco, just another enchilada, just another generous helping of pasta before you take on a tempting and caloric dessert. You look down at your big round belly, feel how tight it is, and give it a slap or two in acknowledgment of a stuffing well overdone. Before you know it, you're packing in a substantial dessert of some consequence: a chocolatey cake with buttercream frosting, a mountain of ice cream sundae, bread pudding with hard sauce... You grab a hold of your love handles and think "this dessert is going to make me FAT!" Then you squeeze your pecs and think "but I'll always be a HUNK..." You toss your spoon in the large empty bowl where your dessert had been just minutes ago, lean back, belch, and realize that it's hard to breathe with your belly stuffed up to its current size. You carefully and slowly rise up off of your creaking dining room chair like a hot air balloon taking off, wobbling your way off to a couch where you can stretch out and begin digesting your enormous, fattening, and incredibly satisfying meal. All of this weighs on your mind the next time you weigh yourself and see a number north of 285. Now, it's just a number, right?
Oh Mr. Stuffed Mike, I hope that your holidays this year were very fattening and that belly ball of yours is nearing (or past!) 60" now! Tell us about your Thanksgorging and Christmas!
Definitely nearing about to hit 55in around so we got 5 more inches till 60. I think ill get there ina few more months. With the way i like to eat😈. This thanks giving i ate a whole turkey and ham by my self haha
Back in May, I found the girlfriend’s facial expression to be perfect as her hunky boyfriend went to get up out of their Dairy Queen booth after polishing off a medium cone as well as a small Blizzard. He paused to look down at the gapping buttons on his painted-on flannel shirt, wondering if they were going to pop off if he moved or breathed in just the wrong way (or right way, depending on how you view such events). Her face essentially communicated amusement and satisfaction in acknowledgment of his face’s surprise and wonder. It’s like she could also see something in his future that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Five months later, I got to see that young couple again in Dairy Queen. I got to see them fit themselves in the booth across from me as regular patrons seem to have their favorite dining spots, and there was no mistaking that they had grown in their relationship. There was no doubt that she’d put on weight, but her boyfriend looked like he had the most filling summer ever. His beard was a little longer, cheeks were a little plumper, and it was like he’d sat on a tire pump and been blown up like a balloon. His shirt was again very tight around his belly, but there were no buttons being threatened this time. His light blue pullover was so tight that I could make out his belly button. I would have guessed that he put on thirty quality pounds, and very few of them from gym workouts.
I was almost done with my combo meal by the time they showed up with her 6-piece chicken strip meal and his triple Stackburger combo, so I had to slow down to catch the entire show. He gobbled at a good pace, finishing his tasty tall burger, fries, and two regular cheeseburgers in record hungry boyfriend time, weaving in the two chicken strips that she offered him out of her lunch. When he sucked his Coke dry, she got up to refill it for him. He leaned back a little in his seat and relaxed his belly to the point where it really got nice and round. He let out a little burp and started to look around the room, just in time to catch my admiring gaze.
“How’s it goin’ today?” I inquired in as natural tone as I could muster.
“Great,” he answered and then doled out each word like passing out candy on Halloween, “eatin’ too much again.” Then he patted his round belly and burped.
“Hey, you got nothin’ to worry about. It’s easy to do here. I always leave here satisfied but always wanting more.”
Returning with a refilled Coke, she had that same amused and satisfied look on her slightly chubbier face, and he just sat there with a smile on his face as he muffled a deep belch. She pushed what remained of her fries and Texas Toast in his direction and he was obliged to polish them off with ease. His eyes darted over my direction as he sucked on his soda and ran his free hand down the front of his upsized rounder belly. A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she scooted her ass forward and leaned into the table before reaching her hand across to poke him right in his swollen belly.
“Time for dessert!” was all she said as she got up to go back to the front counter.
He glanced at me a couple times while he fiddled with his phone and sucked on his second medium Coke. When she came back, she had two large Blizzards and his eyes grew large. Slurping and burping, he managed to finish the entire thing. His stomach was so swollen that it jutted right out under his pushed-apart rib cage in a taut sphere. She took another shot at his very plump belly with her index finger, poking around at several different spots this time rather than trying to test one particular area. “How about that? It did fit in that belly!”
Then she picked up his soda cup, shook it to find it empty, and got him yet another refill. She hadn’t quite finished her Blizzard, so she handed the remainder of it over to him.
“Oooff,” he managed as he looked down at his lunch-stuffed gut and then looked over at me with the most gloriously pained expression. “My belly is gonna POP!”
“I have to admit that it does kinda look like you’re gonna explode, but you young guys will just keep stretching to get the job done. You’re going to be just fine by the time she makes you Sunday dinner, but I think you’re going to have to unbutton your jeans before you sit down for another feeding.”
The girlfriend reappeared somewhere during my mention of him unbuttoning his jeans and smirked again. “Hello there,” she said to me as she giggled at her boyfriend. “Don’t you worry, honey, I’m gonna rub your belly when we get in the truck.”
“You guys have fun tonight!” I said, watching him try to escape their booth in his advanced pregnant state. “Just over a month until Thanksgiving,” I directed toward her, “at this rate, he’s going to be ready to plow through a couple meals without even getting close to splittin’ down the middle like a caterpillar. You’re rocking it!”
His stretched shirt lifted a bit as he put his arm around her and she immediately put her hand on top of the solid round protrusion to give it a couple of firmly-placed smacks. He belched heartily as they both smiled with obvious satisfaction.
When your belt gets longer and lower and your smile gets bigger and brighter! Handsome, fat, and happy! Is that tie there to hide the gaps between the shirt buttons? Let's hope we find out in 2024!
Prepare
Get the balance right! Although you’ll need to start on an empty stomach to eat as much as possible, don’t be ravenously hungry. If you’re starving, you’ll eat too quickly and not properly pace yourself.
Avoid fasting. Follow your regular meal schedule and stop eating five hours before the main event.
Exercising earlier in the day is also a good idea, especially if you’ve eaten a breakfast meal. Physical activity stimulates the appetite. Taking a short, brisk walk helps move food through your digestive system and empty out your stomach in preparation.
Finally, it's easier to eat a lot if you're relaxed. So immediately before the meal, take some deep breaths, listen to some pleasant music, think calm thoughts, and avoid anything confrontational or stressful.
Now’s a good time to weigh yourself and measure around your belly. You’re going to want some data from which to later gauge your success.
Dressing Isn’t Just a Sidedish
Choose your Thanksgorging meal outfit with significant expansion in mind. If you must wear less casual clothing, wear an undershirt under a button-up shirt in case you end up stressing or popping buttons; also, plan similarly if the pants must be dressier. Check to see if they can be unbuttoned stealthily and your belt has notches left to be loosened.
Ideally, you’ll be able to wear a stretchy shirt and pants with a lot of give. If your belly typically swells immensely during large extended dinners, consider choosing a shirt that will cover most of your belly for most of the meal. A tight hem riding up like a curtain can be sexy as it bares a fat spherical curve, but can be potentially distracting to other diners. Unbuttoning too-tight pants late in a hefty meal is nearly universally expected, especially if the button is ready to pop.
Choose Wisely
Once you’ve girded your loins for the overeating challenge, there’s nothing to do but begin. The choices you make now will determine whether you fill your stomach to maximum capacity, or give up long before dessert.
If you’re a beer drinker, try to avoid beers right off the bat. Instead, have a couple shots of 80+ proof liquor to relax and put yourself at ease. Skip the mixer, especially if it’s carbonated, as you want to maximize the benefit of the alcohol while minimizing the volume at this point.
If there are appetizers, consider your options carefully. Certain types of food makes you feel more full than others.
An over-full feeling isn’t just caused by a stretched-to-capacity stomach. Your body also triggers feelings of fullness by releasing hormones and enzymes as you eat. For example, the more you chew, the fuller you will feel. Stick with the mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, country rolls with butter, fluffy fruit salad, and delay the majority of fats and proteins until later. Gorging on a pile of turkey will make you feel full sooner than the easier-to-stuff carbs. You can do maximal damage with carbs because they layer nicely—you can pack in more without feeling too full.
Once you start eating protein, the secretion of enzymes and hormones starts that satiety cascade, and having fat as part of the meal triggers satiety.
Delay your consumption of fiber-rich foods like veggies and whole grains. They fill you up faster because that fiber soaks up water and takes up more room.
Liquids also occupy precious stomach real estate, so don’t consume a large glass of juice or bowl of soup right away. That said, fluids will help food move through your stomach as you eat, so sip some water or other liquids throughout the meal.
Gorge Yourself
The human stomach is quite stretchy -- like a big latex balloon. If you cram food and drink into it, it will expand to a maximum volume of up to four liters—the equivalent of two 2-liter bottles of soda. Once you've stuffed your stomach to capacity, the meal is over—right? Absolutely not!
As fast as you put food into it, your stomach processes that content and starts moving it into the intestines. As soon as you feel like you can’t eat another bite, lean back in your chair. Relax. Breathe in slowly through your nostrils and exhale slowly through your mouth. Let your abdominal muscles loosen and expand to allow your stomach to push out and become as round as possible. Using both hands, rub your belly all over in slow circles, concentrating on your very full stomach. Try to push out any belches that might be taking up precious room in your filled stomach, using a tapping or thumping technique as though your gut were a drum. If you struggle enough with massaging your bloated belly, someone at the table may offer to help you -- let them have a rub as well for good luck.
Take a Belly Break
If you’ve been concentrating on simple carbohydrates, you’re in luck: The stomach can empty itself of low-fiber carbs in a mere 30 to 90 minutes. At this point, you probably feel bloated; perhaps, a little like a tick about to pop. You might feel like all you want is to do is curl up on the sofa, holding your stomach, and groaning. Fight that instinct and get to your feet.
Part of the digestion of food is movement. If you take yourself from a sitting to a standing position, you’re going to move food more quickly and feel less uncomfortable sooner than if you just sit down.
After all, you just worked hard on that belly -- it’s time to show it off! Take the pop walk slowly around the dining room, into the living room, around wherever there may be an appreciative audience. Stop by a full-length mirror and take a lengthy look at your fullness.
The nerves around your stomach are the ones that complain to the brain about how full you are. Once your body pushes that food from your stomach into your intestines, the uncomfortably full feeling should ease up.
Adding liquid will also speed up this process. Drinking will help to move things down -- instead of everything sitting there going nowhere like a traffic jam.
Go for Bust
Now, get back to that table and eat. Luckily, you don’t have to wait for your stomach to empty out entirely before you go back to the buffet. Even a little reduction in food volume can help. Give yourself fifteen minutes to a half an hour to recover, and you’ll find that you’re ready to pack in more chow.
Just remember that less chewing means you’ll be able to get in a larger volume of food into your stomach. Protein like turkey sticks to your ribs for much longer: it will take closer to four hours to pass through your stomach, and no one wants to wait that long to begin eating desserts.
Keep eating. Remember to lean back, spread your thighs apart, whatever it takes to give your burgeoning belly enough space to swell. It’s during this part of Thanksgorging where you hope you’ve chosen your clothes wisely. If all has gone according to plan, the stretchy materials should be reaching their limit around your bulging midsection, and you’ll want to consider unbuttoning that pants button (if there is one). Concerned onlookers may begin to make comments about the size of your belly, others may poke you in the stomach to see if there is any give, and the feeders in the group will be encouraging you to pack in another plateful.
Getting Fed
If someone at the table wants to feed you on top of your already stretched-to-the-very-limit belly, then take a belly break before they break your belly. Get your fattened self up and do your best to wobble about for at least fifteen minutes if you left the table at the point where swallowing a whole mouthful of food became a time-consuming process. Once again, try to avoid laying down for any length of time, especially on the floor and on your back as you’ll be extremely vulnerable to being popped by those who could trip and fall onto your overstuffed belly. Do not bounce anything heavy on top of an overfull stomach as it may burst from the compression.
Once back at the table, determine the safe word to be used so that the feeder knows when to stop stuffing you, then allow the feeder to shovel food into your mouth at your mutual pleasure. Choices such as “pop”, “burst”, “explode” are not recommended. Use something like “diet” to communicate that the belly has attained maximum safe stretch and cannot accommodate the slightest bit more filling.
Top it Off in Grand Style
Wait one half hour after you’ve last shoveled dinner food in and then drink a small glass of warm water (at least room temperature and definitely not cold). Slightly warm water helps break down food in the stomach and aids digestion.
Now, begin the dessert stage of the meal. Glucose (sugar) stimulates the relaxation reflex, and pressure on the stomach will be decreased, reducing the sensation of fullness. A sweet dessert will allow the stomach to make room for more food, and you’ll be able to tackle several slices of your favorite pies. Remember, they’re only good when they’re fresh, and you’ve earned rewarding yourself with as much pie as will fit in your stomach.
Measure and Weigh
At this point, you should find a scale and a tape measure to record the meal’s highlights. After all, you need to know what goals you’re going to set for Christmas.
Black Bear Explodes After Gorging on 380 Pound Visitor
Yellowstone, MT - Park officials have confirmed that an adult male black bear has now exploded after devouring a 380 pound visitor from New York state. The meal that broke the bear’s belly came in the form of Brock Tippascalli, an immensely overfed 23 year old man was reportedly on an extended cross-country camping trip on his way to Porkland. Tippascalli was attending a special barbecue eating event put on by a local “Make America Gain Again” supporter group when the gluttonously unfortunate attack occurred.
Measured between 68” and 70” around his massive gut two hours before the incident, Tippascalli had been forcibly stuffed for hours with an array of grilled meats, side dishes, desserts, and locally brewed beers. Two “helper feeders” and a trained belly masseur, witnesses to the attack, estimated his weight near 400 pounds as the victim meal became unable to move following an protracted cheesecake and donut feeding.
Individuals’ efforts to roll the enormously overstuffed Tippascalli away from the campsite were partially successful in that they had avoided sharp sticks and rocks that would have popped the tight-skinned belly, but were eventually thwarted by an uphill grade.
“We’d been able to shift Brock around on the pic-a-nic bench sometime after his second grill-ful of burgers, so he could sit with his thighs spread wide and his swollen belly bulging out without hitting the table,” said Joe Enteman, “we thought we were home free when we pushed him over onto his jumbo gut and the magnificent fleshball didn’t immediately burst -- but he was simply too heavy for us to roll any distance up that hill.”
Barbecue participants endeavored to shoo the hungry bear away from the helpless Tippascalli, who had been marooned on his back like a giant turtle. The bear went for Tippascalli’s meaty arms, extraordinarily thick thighs, and plumped-up ass first, devouring the deliciously marbled meat like it were the sole diner at an ursine Thanksgiving. Not able to stop, the gluttonous bear then elected to move on to gobble Tippascalli’s epically stuffed belly. “The bear was obviously misbehaving and had a craving for a tasty tourist,” commented Bob Chefferly.
Filled with hundreds of pounds of meat, the black bear became comically marooned on top of its perilously overstretched stomach. The greedy bear’s gut continued to swell for over ten minutes, reportedly due to the quantity of cheesecake that had been inside Tippascalli’s ‘stuffing ball’, lifting the bear’s paws completely off the ground.
Animal Control was able to rescue the bear from the site and had planned to put the bear on a strict “no tourists larger than 250 pounds” diet; however, the bear exploded in the transport vehicle on the way to a lower-calorie part of the park.
Some bellies are absolutely legendary. Riccbelly/gutfella is definitely one of them.
For my birthday present to myself (and to others, hopefully), I re-cut some Riccurt-- we're going heavy on the gut slaps, belches, and beers today, boys!
Ever since Barrett started working at Chunk’s in the mall, he’d developed a bit of a cult following. Barrett’s collection of too-tight tee shirts never failed to highlight every succulent bump and bulge, and the tops combined with packed skinny jeans never failed to impress. Barrett had the most amazing pair of bubbled buns sitting atop mature tree trunk-sized thighs, finished off with meaty calf muscles. Of course, his immaculate fade and neatly trimmed beard gave him a timeless look of masculinity to his handsome features, deep blue eyes, and pearly white smile. When Chunk’s manager realized what a draw his recently hired ex-military muscled hunk had become, he immediately put him in the window-- so to speak.
After Barrett had finished his main tasks, the manager would set him up in a front table alongside the main walkway with one of the biggest sandwiches. Chunk’s was known for their huge stacked sandwiches and fresh breads, warning patrons that they may need to loosen their belts to finish one of the enormous two-handed sammies. The live eating demo was effective in drawing in a variety of customers. At the beginning of the sandwich, lady shoppers would file in to gawk at the handsome young stud while they’d split their lunch and still take half home. Near the end of the sandwich, Barrett would slow down a bit and labor as his stomach filled to the top. His tight tee shirt couldn’t hide his brawny tight bulge, and he’d just lazily lean back in his chair, giving up the thought of sucking it in. The post-sandwich advertisement would draw in the fat hungry dudes looking for a nice full gut, and Barrett would inspect them like cattle as they’d pile in for a good feeding.
A couple of months passed, and Barrett couldn’t help but notice how difficult it had become to squeeze into this hot jeans, much less get them buttoned. The big 6’2” ex-military hunk would stand in front of his bathroom mirror rotating around to inspect his budding love handles and protruding belly, still flexing his biceps to validate his manliness. Barrett would grope each of his pecs with satisfaction, causing each of his nipples to poke out against his tighter tee shirt.
One day, Barrett went into work to find that his manager had decided to double his demo time by having him eat two of the smaller sandwiches, which together summed up to about one and a half of the biggest ones he’d been regularly devouring. Initially, Barrett wasn’t too sure about the idea since he’d already fought especially hard with his top jeans button that morning. The manager upped the ante with two extra-special sandwiches for him, and Barrett happily gorged himself on the thick and meaty deli treats. The manager didn’t want him to have Barrett leave his feeding station for anything, so he brought him several Coke refills to keep washing down seemingly endless sandwich. The manager even brought him a couple of their popular side salads because the big beefer was getting so swollen.
Business was especially good that day late in that lunch rush as lustful fat guys lined up for large sandwiches, drawn in by the potbellied poster boy in front. Barrett just sat there like a god with his thick thighs pushed apart, shoulders back, and his stretched-taut belly bulging out from his marbled beefy pecs to his excruciatingly tight jeans waistband. Barrett applied both of his hands to his blown-up round belly and alternated pushing in with rubbing on each side of the prominent bulge. The big overfed stud breathed shallowly due to how much room his stomach was taking away from his lungs, and he managed a few choice belches that brought in some more wide-eyed guys. Chunk’s manager came out from the back after adjusting his impossibly hard dick in his jeans and approached his prime Grade-A beefball that adorned the front of his restaurant.
Barrett rested his hands on his thighs as the manager came up to him, showing off how the sublimely tight well-worn cotton hugged every bump and bulge, and perfectly outlined his plump belly button. Barrett tilted his head back and looked his manager in the eyes, “Oh my God...I’m so ff-ff-uu-uu-ll-ll-ll-ll.” The manager smirked as he reached down to push around on Barrett’s big bloated belly. Engorged Barrett emitted a combination of grunts and belches, unable to tighten his long-softened abs enough to protect his pregnant belly against the directed pokes and musical thumping. “Sorry, Barrett, we have those new Chunk-y S’Mores Cookies and we need to push ‘em. That means, we’re gonna have to push this stomach of yours a little bit more.”
Barrett’s eyes somewhat crossed as he processed the latest directive. “I dunno. I think ...” Barrett paused to let out a really big burp, “I think I might explode.”
“Nah,” said the manager, “a big strong guy like you? Pfft. That strong table muscle of yours will just s-t-r-e-t-c-h to accommodate extra loading. The worst thing that might happen is that you’ll have to pop that top jeans button.”
“Okay, alright, well, let me get ‘em.” Barrett insisted, scooting his chair back with an obvious noise. Spreading his thighs apart and dropping his hard gut through the open space, Barrett placed his hands on the tops of his legs to push himself upright. It was no small amount of effort lifting his bulk off of the chair, but once he succeeded he had the attention of most of the diners in the seating area. Barrett’s belly was bloated out in a circle in front of him, and the ultra-taut waistband of his ridiculously stuffed jeans was scrunched down to a fraction of its height. Just south of the hefty gut was another bulge that eagerly pushed against the low-rise zipper. The manager followed the wobbling stuffed stud, smiling at all of the attentive chewing faces. It was so difficult not to fixate on Barrett’s widened back and his stout bubble butt, and the manager fought hard not to just slap his fat ass.
Once Barrett was standing, he realized that it was going to be harder than hell to sit back down and continue to eat, so he compromised with the manager to stand at the end of the counter by the register to stuff in his melty delicious cookies. Capturing the attention of a very hefty daddy type in line waiting for his giant sandwich to be made, Barrett smiled at him and stretched his thick arms up in the air. The hem of his overburdened tee shirt inched slowly up the sphere like a curtain rising on a stage as it bared the divine appearance of Barrett’s thick treasure trail and his perfectly shaped deep belly button. The round-gutted daddy ventured closer to the register after being served his thick sandwich and dessert cookies, still captivated with the sight of Barrett’s bare crescent of belly and naughty zipper that had started to escape down its track.
“Well, these sure looked good so I had to have some,” said the fattened daddy, winking at the manager, who stood beaming behind the extra full Barrett. “After all, I gotta keep up my figure. The food is always so damn good and filling here-- I never know when to stop!” The fattened daddy finished signing his credit card receipt and poked the capped end of the pen into the side of Barrett’s thoroughly pumped lunchball. “Looks like I’m not the only one, guy.”
Barrett chuckled as he ran his meaty hand across his swollen gut, “yup, the hazards of the job, I’m afraid. You just gotta remember to stop before you pop!”
The manager put his hand on the big stud’s shoulder, “tell you what, why don’t you go have a seat with this nice gentleman while he enjoys his lunch, and I’ll make you one of our Gut Topper Cake Shakes. Deal?”
“Gut Topper? Well, today, it might just become a Gut Popper...but okay. Load me up...”
The two guys headed off for a table in the back of the seating area near the kitchen. The fat daddy couldn’t wait to start pushing food down his gullet, so he plopped his big butt down and started shoveling. Barrett towered next to the table for a moment deep in thought, then reached under his enormous belly bulge to fight with his jeans button. “Dude, I’m sorry, but these things are cutting me in half.” The fat daddy’s cheeks bulged with food as he witnessed Barrett’s abdominal muscle contortions caused by the stuffed stud’s efforts to suck in the protuberant swell, but finally Barrett was able to pop open the top and breathe a little.
“Ooofff,” sighed Barrett, giving his rounded midsection an invigorating rub. Barrett held on to his zipper as he sat to make sure that the open “V” of his jeans didn’t spread too wide in a family restaurant.
“I couldn’t help but notice those jeans were pretty much painted on ya, big guy,” remarked the fat daddy.
“Yup, I’ve gained a few pounds since I started working at Chunk’s. The manager feeds me up daily.”
“Daily feedings? You might want to get some pants with an elastic waistband so you can expand in comfort.”
Barrett hovered down and planted his meaty bubbles in the chair directly across from the fat daddy, pretty much looking like a leaned-back, very-pregnant Buddha.
“Well, I know what that’s like to plan ahead for such things,” said the fat daddy, “my wife has been overfeeding me for years.” He leaned back and thumped his obvious gut bulge, “can’t say that I mind too much, after all, I love food.” The fat daddy’s eyes cruised over the topography of Barrett’s tight tee shirt. “I used to look like you when we first started dating, well, you about 50 pounds ago and before you stuffed your gut today.”
Barrett chuckled again, his facial expression slowly turning into concentration as he tried to do arithmetic in his head. “...and you’re not as tall as I am. If you don’t mind me asking, how much do you weigh?”
“By the way, my name’s Josh.” Both had to spread their thighs apart to make room for their bellies so that they could lean in to shake hands. “I don’t mind you asking me how much I weigh-- in fact, I just got my 300 pound ribbon at Recipe Club.”
“Recipe Club?”
“It’s something my wife got us into. Just a small group started by women who love to cook or are learning how to cook, and they invite their guys to join them to enjoy their rather prolific production.”
“...and you got a ribbon?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s the opposite of what Weight Watchers rewards, but we watch our weight as well. Watch it increase!” Josh giggled. “Needless to say, the guys get more ribbons faster during the holidays. We have to weigh in when we get there, and some of us weigh again as we’re leaving... just for fun.”
“What a trip!”
“...speaking of trips, we just took the kids through Vegas and then on a Disney cruise, and I can’t believe the amount of food.” Josh continued through frequent large bites of sandwich, “it was like the ideal glutton vacation... I was powerless amongst all those buffets and high-calorie foods! My belly was so damn big and tight at the end of each night that you could have rolled me to our room. Roll... Burp... Roll... Burp...”
As Barrett was drawn in to the imagery of Recipe Club and Josh’s trip of unrestrained gorging, he wondered about the timing of certain things. “So, when did you go from DadBod to DadBalloon?”
Josh got a good laugh out of the pointed question. “Kid number two.”
As they were both still cracked up over Josh being fattened up, Chunk’s manager appeared with a large frosty cup and a funnel. “Okay, Barrett, tilt and open!”
Josh smiled broadly as he detected Barrett’s newness to the concept, though he suspected that he must have beer bonged a little during some wild parties. Barrett wrapped his full lips around the bottom of the funnel opening and the manager pushed it a little farther down into his mouth once he felt his lips tighten up to steady. As he poured the giant vanilla cake shake slowly into the funnel, he was careful not to spill a drop. Barrett’s eyes widened and he put his hand on top of his again-swelling belly. Josh stuffed his face as he watched the bottom of Barrett’s rib cage rise as his bloatation device deployed fully. One of the cooks was returning from his break and stopped by the filling station to put his hand on top of Barrett’s solid round protruding stomach ledge, “wow, it’s a Gut Topper! Barrett-- you’re gettin’ to be a whopper!” The cook couldn’t resist giving Barrett’s barrel a parting slap to hear him grunt.
Barrett’s breathing was getting quite labored towards the end of the giant shake, and his nipples were practically shooting through his ultra-taut tee shirt. The advanced size of the Barrett’s fattened belly coaxed the hem up again to bare succulent skin and dark-colored fur.
Josh nearly choked shoving food into his mouth at such a high rate of speed, but he got down his enormous sandwich just as the manager finished loading Barrett’s firm round Buddha gut. The manager lifted the funnel out of Barrett’s O-shaped mouth as the dangerously overfull stud licked shake remnants off of his lips and continued to swallow the rest down his gullet. Barrett just had to sit there with his hands down his sides, feeling that his beefy pecs were about to bump him in the chin at any moment. The manager nodded his head and reached down to thump the mighty round bellyful. The combination of thick muscle walls, a nice layer of fat, and a thoroughly packed digestive tract made the most sublime of deep satisfied sounds.
“Good God, that melon is ripe.” Josh critiqued, leaning back to rest his hand on top of his big sandwich lunch. “And Barrett bared it-- that shirt is too small for ya, big buddy!”
Barrett’s smile curled onto his lips with a bit of a delay caused by his food coma. After the manager left, Barrett put his hands on his overblown balloon and rubbed.
“Man, you look like how I felt after the 24 hour buffet pass in Las Vegas. You know, I knew that it was going to be a bad thing-- I could tell when I walked in the first place and saw all of the groaning, belching guys. They looked like fully engorged ticks about to pop. Well, that was me a day later because we just kept going back for more and more and more. My lovely bride overate, my daughter got bored, but my son found his groove. I was laughing at him little at breakfast because he’s got a weakness for waffles, pancakes, pastries, and bacon.” Josh laughed as he listened to Barrett wheeze with his eyes half-closed; Barrett’s fully distended gut had swollen even more with the cake shake, pushing him farther back against his chair. “Of course, he got me back later in the day after second dinner. We were back in the room, and I was bloated out on the floor next to the couch while we were all watching a movie. Ever since I read him “Hop on Pop” when he was a kid, he’s wanted to bounce on my belly-- especially after I eat too much. He thinks it’s really funny.”
Suddenly, Barrett emitted a lengthy bass-toned belch, causing both of them to laugh heartily. Barrett patted his thoroughly round belly and flexed his pecs. “I’m pretty sure that if anyone hopped on me right now, I’d pop for sure!”
Josh munched on his cookies and agreed. “You could bounce a quarter off of that gut right now, Barrett. You remind me of some of those big bloated-up young guys on the cruise ship. Poppin’ Fresh Pillsbury Doughboys gorging their way to tight-skinned ecstasy, unbuckling their belts and stuffing themselves like Thanksgiving turkeys. I would think ‘damn, I hope we don’t hit a rock and end up shipwrecked on some island full of hungry cannibals’” Josh said as he finished the last bite of his marshmallowy chocolatey gooey cookies.
“Ooof, a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey-- that’s how I feel at the moment,” Barrett admitted as he gave his stout round belly another rubbing.
“And look,” Josh said, supporting the astute observation. “Just squeeze you in between some big bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and sit a pumpkin pie on top of your belly ledge for dessert.”
Josh glanced at his watch and realized that he was late to get back to work. “Guess I better get my fat ass in gear.” Josh hoisted himself up, satisfied with the extra-large lunch and conversation, brushing past Barrett just as he took that moment to stretch his arms up in the air. Josh paused to smack a couple deep-seated belches out of Barrett. “Keep eatin’, big guy, keep rollin’ down that path to the big 3-0-0... but keep an eye out for cannibals!”
~.~
Many weeks passed, and Barrett’s allure changed somewhat to the ladies who lunched at Chunk’s. It seemed that the amount of weight he’d gained was difficult for some of them to accept; after all, he’d plumped by forty pounds in a relatively short time after significantly long lunchtime stuffings. Barrett still presented as quite beefy with one foot still in the gym, but there was no denying his big round belly and widened booty that mercilessly stuffed his shrinking wardrobe. His handsome face had filled out accordingly and he had the start of a second chin hidden under his fuller beard; regardless, his piercing blue eyes and immaculate grooming still caused heads to pivot. Josh the 300+ pound daddy continued to come in once a week to stuff himself with sandwich, and Barrett always treated him to at least one Gut Topper. Josh would especially enjoy the belly blowout when Barrett personally funneled the extra creamy cake shake down his gullet.
Awhile back, the manager had hired a new cook when Chunk’s had added pizza to their calorie-driven menu. Barrett had recognized the guy immediately from high school, although Peter’s 5’11” frame had filled out some since those earlier days. Peter had been a swimmer all during high school and was always pretty wide-shouldered and lanky, which changed through his college experience in the dining halls. Of course, Peter recognized Barrett right away as well, and would tease him about how fat he’d become. Barrett would always comment right back about Peter’s modest college weight gain. Chunk’s cooks wore nice pullover shirts that bore the restaurant’s logo on the left breast, and Peter’s shirt was always a little pizza sauce-splattered and tight. Peter’s pudgy round belly pooched out over his Dockers taut waistbands, and no one could miss his pasta butt that stressed the seam in the back.
The two former schoolmates never really talked much in school, but they developed a friendly, yet somewhat tense, rivalry at work. Peter was slightly jealous with the fact that Barrett got away with hardly working and mostly just eating while he sat on his constantly widening ass. The manager had added pizza to Barrett’s daily demonstration, and Peter was usually the one that made the pie. Peter would deliberately pile on additional toppings, knowing that Barrett would have to stuff the slices down on top of his torturously large sandwich and sides.
After a month of silent warfare, both Barrett and Peter had packed on weight. Barrett was undeniably impressed with Peter’s bloat capacity and how much the littler guy could stomach in one stretching session. Peter, who loved the fact that his packed pizzas were adding to both Barrett’s bottom and front lines, immensely enjoyed the big stud’s trips in to the kitchen to moan about his overloaded gut. Barrett was supposed to sweep around the kitchen after his lunch demonstration, and he’d invariably be as close as possible to Peter so that he could bump him with his solid gutsphere. Barrett would belch in Peter’s general direction to egg him on, and soon Peter would march on up to the 6’2” beefster and playfully threaten to punch his big ol’ gut. Barrett would push his belly out even more and tell Peter to give it his best shot. The manager would always intercede in time saying “Don’t pop him! Barrett has to work tomorrow!”
Time bulged on, and the manager had to bring in a scale due to rising concerns about their Frontline Eater position, of which Barrett had done such an incredible job filling. “Boy, are you ever fat now,” the manager told Barrett as he processed the number on the scale’s display, “three hundred and twenty pounds. I’m afraid that we’re going to move you to back of house for awhile-- put the big beefer out to pasture, so to speak. Your gluttonous performances are still bringing in the fat guys, but the average group of ladies who lunch seem to think you’ve gotten too fat for them to fantasize about over their porky husbands.”
“Aw, come on!” Barrett spurted out, “I know women still look at me.”
“Well, yeah. They look at you and think about the big fat growling gut they’re going to have to go home and feed that night. All the work they’ll go through stuffing their husband’s belly enough so he’ll fall asleep on the couch and not bother them for the rest of the night.”
A vision of his fat daddy friend Josh popped into Barrett’s mind. “Some women enjoy feeding their hubbies-- in fact, they relish the thought of fattening them up.” Barrett’s crotch tingled a bit as he remembered Josh’s most recent Chunk’s visit when he owned up to weighing 350 pounds and whispering the most arousing admission in his ear. Josh had dreamed one night that he’d been stretching his belly for weeks in the hopes of growing it immense enough to hold a stuffed Thanksgiving Barrett.
The manager’s mind was made up, so he put Barrett next to Peter in the kitchen so that they could work out any issues the two had while Barrett shed a few pounds. The days went by with the two reminiscing about the old days and pretty much making a buffet of the prep tables. It was on a Friday when Peter offered one particularly compelling memory.
“You remember that time at the school assembly when three of you guys on the football team had a pizza eating contest in front of the whole school?” Peter asked.
“Oh yeah. My gut ached the rest of the afternoon,” Barrett confessed.
“Oh damn... well, you won....and you ate the entire pizza,” Peter recalled. “You had the biggest fucking belly that day...”
“I remember that.” Barrett smiled, “after school, I was sprawled out on the grass in Senior Square warning guys not to step on my belly.”
“You were wearing this really tight orange pullover shirt and I thought your belly looked like a big pumpkin.” As Peter shared his thoughts, Barrett chuckled and patted his much fatter, bigger belly. “I had like ten dollars and I wanted to take you to McDonald’s and get you whatever you wanted.”
“You did? Huh...” Barrett thought for a moment. “Guess that would have made you ‘Peter Peter Pumpkin Feeder’ in a way...” Barrett thought for another moment, “wait... that’s why you would makin’ my pizzas so big! You’ve been fattening me up on purpose!”
Peter slapped Barrett in his big ol’ belly. “Well, truth be told, you were already amply fattened when I started here... nicely marbled beef... I just wanted you to get a little fatter.”
“A little fatter? Well, I’m 320 pounds now.” Barrett stated, bumping his firm round gut into Peter’s fat belly. “Feel the size of this beast now!”
“My guess is that this beast needs to be fed,” Peter said, grabbing on to each side of the studly gut being pushed into him. “I’ve got ten dollars for McDonald’s after work...”
Somehow, Peter and Barrett kept their minds on finishing their shifts at Chunk’s, and agreed to meet at the nearest McDonald’s at six o’clock. Peter decided to keep his work clothes on, despite the fact that he smelled like an overweight pizza. Since he’d gone ahead and eaten his free work meal, his Dockers were exceptionally tight despite the fact that they were pushed down far below his fat belly. Barrett had gone home and rifled through a few drawers to find that famous orange pullover shirt from high school, only to find that he nearly ripped it getting it over his much more developed chest and arms, and the old top was no match for his very ample belly. The shirt couldn’t reach to cover his wide love handles and the hem created a crisp line around his big manly gut above his dreamily deep belly button. He had one last pair of jeans that he put forth his best effort to button, and walked out of the house looking like a giant overstuffed sausage.
Barrett walked in to the McDonald’s and immediately felt eyes gluing to his bared belly; among other sets, one set of eyes belonged to Peter, and another set belonged to Josh-- Barrett’s fat daddy friend from Chunk’s. Josh’s hefty wife turned her head to see who her chubby hubby was gawking at and seemed suitably impressed. Peter stood up, shifted his boner, and walked over to meet the vision in orange that wobbled his way closer.
“How about that-- that shirt fits differently than it did in high school, Barrett!” “Just a little bit. I’m a few pounds heavier now.”
Both of them strolled up to the counter together, each enjoying the reaction of the chubby young counter dude whose mouth dropped open in response the audacity of Barrett’s attire.
“What do ya want? My treat.” Barrett offered, rubbing Peter’s shoulder.
“Oh, it’s my treat, Barrett.”
“Let’s do this-- I’ll get you what I want you to eat, and you can do the same for me. How about that?”
Soon enough, the two Chunk’s employees had decided on a booth across from where Josh and his wife still sat eating. Before taking a seat, Barrett and Peter said hello to the oversized married couple, carefully noting the pile of empty boxes and wrappers in front of Josh. Even though it was one of the booths made larger to more easily accommodate fat people, Josh was obviously stuck. The table’s edge butted firmly against his enormous round belly, and the portion above table level bulged onto the surface an inch. Josh’s ribs were shoved up and back around the bloated stomach, and it was as hard for him to speak as it was to breathe.
“Josh, I do believe that you’ve been fed into place!” Barrett said.
“Indeed he has,” came the voice from across the table. “We’re stretching his belly all day today-- kids are at their grandparents. There’s a young pup at Recipe Club that’s about to get his 360 pound ribbon and Josh has got to keep up! You must be Barrel-- I mean, Barrett,” she said, looking at the tall stud’s ample belly.
Barrett chuckled. “Yes, that’s me, Barrett. And I guess I do resemble a food barrel these days.” He shook her hand and introduced Peter. “Well, well, Josh. Just look at this huge belly wedged in this booth...” Barrett gently poked around on the top of Josh’s overstuffed belly.
“Careful, now... don’t poke too hard. You’ll pop the pig! He’s been eating all day to stretch his belly for an upcoming Vegas trip. I mean, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that 24 hour buffet pass and wants to go for a three day gorging weekend.”
“Haven’t been able to get enough to eat today, boys,” Josh wheezed.
“That can definitely be a problem,” Peter observed with an unmistakably evil smile on his face.
Barrett thumped Josh’s enormous gut and said, “keep on stuffing, Josh-- Thanksgiving is comin’ and you’re either going to eat or be eaten!” Reaching over to his serving tray, Barrett grabbed a Quarter Pounder box and sat it on top of Josh’s solid ball of food.
Two McDonald’s employees, including the chubby guy poured into his uniform, brought two trays each over to where Barrett and Peter had chosen to plant their numbered sign. Without much more conversation, the two guys got down to business and began stuffing themselves. Josh sat and belched while he digested, watching with great interest as Barrett and Peter blew up in size. Their enthusiasm for gorging was amazing to watch. It was no surprise that they finished all of that food and four soda refills only to look at each other and say “More!”
Josh’s wife took his wallet up to the counter and surprised Barrett and Peter with another round of Big Macs, Quarter Pounders, fries, and Chicken McNuggets. Peter’s incredible ability to bloat up into a round ball raised eyebrows near and far in the restaurant. His Chunk’s uniform shirt’s hem inched up the stuffed belly ball, and his Dockers launched into space as he heaved a satisfied sigh.
“Your belly is gettin’ big,” Barrett said to his rotund dinner mate.
“Well, look who’s talking,” plump-bellied Peter turned around on the overstuffed stud. “It’s like someone connected that pumpkin to a tire pump!”
Barrett’s orange pullover had slid up above his packed-taut bloatsphere, exposing the full height of his treasure trail. Barrett’s belly button, with its fat rounded entry, begged for a chubby finger to explore its warm depths.
“I say we go pick up a box of donuts and go to my place, Peter.”
The two roundbellied twentysomethings thanked fat daddy Josh and his wife for their generosity and waddled their way out to their trucks. “Hope you get full enough, Josh!”
“Never!”
Peter picked out the fat pills at the best grocery store bakery in town, making sure to choose an enticing array of all kinds, including extra-filling-fattening cream-filled ones, before speeding on over to Barrett’s address.
“C’mon in if you have donuts...” Barrett teased as he stood there in his ridiculously undersized orange pullover and underwear with a spot of wet pre-cum at the end of his fully lengthened cock.
Peter broke into a sweat from the heat radiating off of the engorged stud, shaking a little as he set two boxes of donuts on the dining room table. Barrett slapped Peter’s butt that was as yet encased in the seam-stressed Dockers, “damn your ass got fat after high school.”
“I like to eat,” Peter told him turning his head sideways.
“I can tell. The pregnant belly was another dead giveaway.” Barrett pulled Peter’s pants down and bent him over the dining room table. Peter’s stout full belly smacked on the surface like a gargantuan slab of bacon and Barrett watched his sides bow out under the pressure. Barrett shifted his loaded cock into the upright position and rubbed it back and forth between Peter’s plump buns. “Fuck that feels good....my gut’s so fucking big that I can’t see what I’m doing, but I can definitely feel the heat from your hole...”
“Jesus, your dick is as big as I always thought it was...” Peter grunted.
“You got me so hot that I’m brimming with cum today... if I pumped your ass right now, I’d shoot a load so fat that your belly would explode.”
“Do it, fat stuff,” Peter begged, “because after you pop my cherry in grand style, I’m gonna feed you every last donut in that box. You stuff my butt and I’ll bust your gut.”
Nearly breaking the table in the process, Barrett finished the deed, pumping Peter completely full of his seed.
Taking Barrett by the hand and grabbing the box of donuts, Peter led his round target into the bedroom. Getting situated leaned against the headboard and spreading his legs far apart, Peter motioned for the ballooned stud to lay belly-up on him with his head on his shoulder. Once Barrett was in place, there was not going to be any moving him for an extended period of time. Peter’s view around Garrett’s head was of a tall round mountain that wobbled from side to side when the bed shook. “Will you just look at the size of this fucking tank?!” Peter put his hands on either side of Barrett’s enormously swollen stomach and spread his fingers. Gently shaking the massive sphere of manflesh, Peter breathed heavily in Barrett’s ear as the heavy stud continued to weigh down on his own achingly full stomach. “Soldier, you’ve really let yourself go...your punishment is going to be severe... forcefeeding until your greedy belly bursts like an overblown balloon.”
Peter picked through the donuts and began stuffing them into Barrett’s eager maw in rapid succession. As icing began to collect in the overfed boy’s beard, his tongue worked overtime to get every last bit. As Barrett was chewing nearly unmanageable mouthfuls, Peter rubbed all over the swelling stomach. With a whole box of donuts down the gullet, there was a giant mound formed that pushed straight up in the air. Peter thumped on the top of the donut dome, amazed at how dense it sounded and the volume of belch it quickly produced. Barrett’s advanced gut was easily the size of a beach ball, and Peter was wishing that he had a view far enough away to fully appreciate its fullness.
“Oh God, I’m gonna pop,” Barrett moaned.
Peter pushed his index finger into the top of Barrett’s solid donut dome and tested it for doneness. “Nope, you’re not ready yet,” Peter whispered in his 320+ pound stud’s ear and opened the second box.
Engaged in relentless stuffing, Barrett’s gutsphere stretched wider and taller. Peter spread his fingers as far apart as possible to rub as much belly at once as he could. Barrett’s panic was becoming more evident as his taut, shiny ball maxed out with half of the second box of donuts crammed inside.
“Okay, Soldier, I’ll spare your gut from certain explosion,” Peter announced. Barrett responded with an wall-shaking belch. Squashed a little under the weight of the overfed stud, Peter wriggled his way out and stood at the side of the bed admiring the gigantic beach ball. The bottom of his enormous gut was as taut as the top, and the roundness bumped against his spread meaty thighs.
Peter slowly made his way on to the bed, throwing his leg over Barrett’s wide body and bouncing his fat butt briefly on the tall mountain of belly. Realizing that he was about to push several donuts right out of Barrett’s mouth, Peter quickly slid down off of the ball gut and landed on his hard-again cock. Peter was reminded of how full his own belly was as it met fatly against the bottom third of Barrett’s gutsphere. Peter regained his strength, grabbed a hold of each of Barrett’s meaty pecs and humped his cock against the giant hard belly. Getting ready to shoot his load, Peter grabbed another donut, plugged Barrett’s furry feedhole with it, and ate up the sight of Barrett’s hungry expression as he spurted cum all over Barrett’s lower bellysphere.
