fatfiction gainer stories

It's hard to believe I've been writing gainer stories since I was 15. That's nearly 15 years of my life. Kinda crazy to think about. I hope there's at least one person out there who has enjoyed them.

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

Das Badehaus

“Welcome back, my friend,” Papa said, greeting another customer in his deep, booming voice. He smiled wide at the man who had entered, appearing genuinely pleased to see him again. Alphonse, who was one of the few men in the house unable to earn enough to be in Papa’s good graces, cleaned the floorboards near his employer’s feet. He looked up to see what he considered to be an abnormal expression on Papa’s face. When not in front of patrons, Papa was a domineering tyrant.

“Hello Deidrick,” the man, a coal miner, replied. 

“Would you like a bath? Or are you here to see one of my sons?” Alphonse rolled his eyes every time Papa referred to the men who worked in the bathhouse as his sons. No real father would sell his children to horny men day after day, happily hoarding the earnings and keeping his offspring in servitude. Alphonse continued scrubbing, his arms somewhat sore. He’d been at it for nearly an hour. There was soot everywhere. The late-night rush had brought the men who worked the second shift in the mines.

The coal miners always had soot and other debris on their boots and uniforms. Alphonse detested these men not only for the messes they left behind, but also for the ill-mannered dispositions they possessed. Al thought there was no worse customer than a miner; they were loud and aggressive, hitting the workers when the mood struck them. He hoped that when he was put on the market, he would catch the eye of a higher caliber of customer, like a baron or businessman.

He scrubbed at the floorboards more vigorously, wanting to be finished for the evening. Papa wouldn’t allow him to go to bed unless all of his chores were completed. He’d already mended Papa’s socks, done the washing, and helped prepare supper. He looked up at Papa again, who continued to entertain the grimy miner standing in the foyer. Papa had short, salt-and-pepper colored hair. It looked dignified, which was funny considering the fact that he ran a male brothel. He also had a mustache that was neatly trimmed and thick. His eyebrows were unkempt and always furrowed in disdain, even when he was smiling. Papa wasn’t an exceptionally tall man, standing quite a few inches below six feet.

Papa made up for his shortcomings with a solid, beefy body. He used his size to keep his sons in line. He’d had to strike Alphonse on more than a few occasions; the young man mouthed off quite often, a habit that still hadn’t been broken in the three years he’d been in Papa’s care. His russet-brown skin thankfully didn’t bruise too easily, and Papa made sure to administer punishment in areas unseen. The blows didn’t really hurt Alphonse anymore; nothing really seemed to hurt him anymore.

“I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in room six,” Papa said, before turning and pulling a cord that would ring a small bell letting the son on duty in that room know a customer was on his way.

“Much appreciated.” The man walked off towards the staircase that would lead him to his happy ending, leaving a trail of sooty footprints behind. Alphonse looked despondently at the new mess he’d have to clean. For another half hour he continued his work in the foyer.

A customer entered. From the look of his shoes, he was no coal miner.

“I take it you are here to see Dorian,” Papa said to Mr. Pfeiffer, a prominent lawyer in the city. He was always at the bathhouse to see Dorian, the best earner in the entire house. Dorian was incredibly handsome. He had wavy brown hair and blue eyes. His body was long and lean, his skin smooth.

“Yes,” Mr. Pfeiffer replied stiffly. “I’ll see myself to his quarters.” The unsmiling barrister left Papa and Alphonse in the foyer. He had a standing appointment with Dorian every Wednesday evening. Papa just laughed to himself, turning to pull the cord that would alert Dorian of his visitor, knowing this appointment was just padding his already hefty pockets.

Dorian was exceptional at what he did. He knew how to entice his clients, to make them feel special and catered to. He used his sensual wiles to ensure his suitors returned time and time again. However, just like Papa, Dorian’s courteous façade did not extend to his contemporaries in the bathhouse. He looked down on the other men because of his status as the highest earner. He was Papa’s crown jewel, and it was implicitly understood no one should cross him.

Alphonse knew he did the same things as the other men, taking and giving cock, but he’d heard Dorian actually enjoyed the work. Alphonse wanted to ask him about it, hoping to learn more for when he needed to service a customer, but Dorian just laughed and told him that he couldn’t reveal his secrets.

The debt Dorian’s family owed to Papa had been paid off nearly nine months prior, but he was still working in the bathhouse. Al couldn’t believe it. People wanted to leave the bathhouse more than anything. None of the men had come to work at the bathhouse because they wanted to.

Papa would give money to poor families, warning them of what would happen if the debt went unpaid; they were to provide a son to work off the remaining balance in the bathhouse. Alphonse speculated that Papa spent his Sunday mornings combing through the obituaries in the newspaper, searching for easy targets.

Alphonse’s mother, a widow, fell prey to Papa’s methods, needing money to feed her son and two young daughters. The mustached manipulator had shown up on the doorstep of Al’s family five days after his father had died in the mines, a wad of bills in his hand and a sly smile on his face. They couldn’t pay what they owed, so over three years later, Alphonse was still in the bathhouse. Once Alphonse started working as an official son, he would still be two years away from his freedom.

Many of the young men in the house never spoke positively of their experiences in the private rooms. Some told Al it was painful and vile. Some said their bodies reacted even though they didn’t want them to. Some even cried at night.

Alphonse sometimes cried as well—for he felt he might enjoy the rough-edged touch of a man. There was no chance at an easy life if he was truly homosexual. When Alphonse considered how looking at men made him feel, he understood he was likely the same as Dorian. He’d observe the various men that frequented the bathhouse, finding a great deal of them attractive. Some were even so handsome, he couldn’t speak when they addressed him. He’d take the mental images of these men with him into a secluded closet or unused room and touch himself, thinking about what it must feel like to be taken by one of them. He’d picture their broad shoulders and thick torsos, but it didn’t stop there. The closer he got to climaxing, he would visualize the bulges in their pants, in both the front and rear. He wanted to grab another man’s ass, another man’s penis, to feel how they differed from his own body.

“I am many things, but I am no child abuser,” Papa had told Alphonse when he first started work in the bathhouse three years ago. “I’m in the business of selling men, not children. You will be cleaning and preparing meals for my sons until you are old enough to make real money.” Alphonse cringed at the memory of those words. He would be nineteen in two weeks’ time. He scrubbed harder, trying to distract himself from his impending debut. There was only fourteen days until he’d be done with housework for good. Only fourteen days until he experienced what he’d only been able to fantasize about.

“Alphonse, go to your room.” Police Chief Claggett had entered. He looked grumpy, almost as crabby as Papa. Al stood up, pushing some stray curls from in front of his face, and walked out of the room towards the staircase. He already knew Papa was giving Chief Claggett a cut of the money they earned so he wouldn’t be arrested. Everyone in town knew that. It was not like people were ignorant of what went on in the bathhouse.

And no, it wasn’t just the fact that Papa was selling sex. The red-light district was perfectly legal, but Papa’s means of acquiring employees was definitely criminal. Extorting these families and threatening to seize everything they owned was not morally or legally sound. Alphonse had been a child when he was taken from his mother. Many of the others started out as servants in the bathhouse until they were old enough to be forced into prostitution.

Chief Claggett knew many men who frequented the bathhouse. Even some of his officers enjoyed rough sex with Papa’s sons. There were certainly those who were homosexual, but a large percentage of customers had wives and children. Their dalliances with these sex workers were opportunities to explore their repressed sexualities without disrupting the status quo.

Alphonse climbed the stairs to his room as Dorian exited his bedroom, face flushed, clothes disheveled. “Looks like Mr. Pfeiffer really gave it to you tonight,” Al said, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, be quiet Alphonse. Burgess had a very stressful day at his firm,” Dorian replied, a coy smile on his lips. “It’s good that you’re here. Go and get us two glasses and a bottle of wine.”

Al wished to say something smart, but he was too exhausted to trade quips. He turned and made his way down the stairs, all the way down to the basement. He grabbed what was asked of him and returned to where Dorian stood waiting.

“Will that be all?” Alphonse asked.

“Yes, young Alphonse, that’ll be all.” He gave one final smirk before returning to the lawyer. Alphonse continued to his own sleeping quarters. He shared a room with Alvin Baum. They called them The Two Al’s. The pair had been there almost the same amount of time. Alvin, however, had started working with the men before Alphonse because he was two years older. Alvin was sprawled out on his mattress, face worn and tired.

“Rough day?” Alphonse asked.

“Every day here is a rough day.” That could not have been a truer statement.

Two weeks came and went faster than Alphonse could have ever imagined. Papa was always more cheerful on days with an auction. These were the days where he made a large sum without having to do much of anything. “Alphonse! Alphonse!” Papa bellowed from his position at the front door. “Where are the wine glasses for this evening?” 

Alphonse brought a box of wine glasses to where Papa stood.

“Here they are,” he said in a somewhat sharp tongue.

“Hee-hee ho-ho ha-ha,” Papa hooted, his laugh like an avalanche, taking over everything in the room. “This evening is your first night as a real earner! Nothing can spoil my mood!” Alphonse winced at the reminder. Who would be the man to deflower him? A coal miner? A lawyer? An officer?

“Who has purchased my virginity?” Alphonse asked. Papa laughed again. He was absolutely giddy on these days of transition. All he could see was currency. Alphonse likely looked like a giant gold bar to him.

“You know there will be an auction as there is for any man’s virginity here.” Papa smiled and touched Al’s face tenderly, looking up at the young man. Alphonse was nearly six feet tall, towering over the stout older man. “If it wouldn’t set me back financially, I’d gladly shell out the money to make you mine.” He jerked his head away from Papa’s fingers. Papa laughed again and began to whistle a jaunty tune.

Later that evening the auction began in the large sitting room to the left of the foyer. Oskar and Moritz, two of Papa’s underlings, stood off to the side. They were there to make sure things didn’t go sour. The whole thing frightened Alphonse. Men in the house had described it before, but nothing they spoke of was as unsettling as what he was experiencing. The curtains were drawn, and the room was incredibly dim. Alphonse stood in the center of the room under a small overhead light fixture. The light shining above him made it difficult to make out just how many bidders were present. He could hardly see their faces. He stood naked, covering his manhood with shaky hands.

He’d bathed using expensive soap and washed his long, thick hair. Papa directed him to wear it down and he did as he was told. His shiny, tight coils were nearly to his shoulders. His mane added immensely to his sex appeal, and his beautiful dark hair was a talking point amongst the bidders.

Men yelled out monetary amounts. The numbers climbed higher and higher. Papa told him that he needed to turn around and he complied. His back was now to the group. Someone whistled. The numbers continued to rise.

“What an ass,” someone said loudly.

“And it is untouched!” Papa added, doing his best to make Alphonse enticing to the crowd. “I guarantee it! Turn back around Alphonse!” The young man did as he was told, facing the crowd once more. He wondered how long these auctions tended to last. He wanted nothing more than for the whole ordeal to be over.

Papa continued to encourage the men to bid more. “This virgin boy of nineteen is worth more than that!”

The numbers soared.

“Fifty thousand,” one man said, his voice louder than all the others. That was nearly triple the last amount offered. The voices hushed and everyone looked at the tall, sturdy stranger who had just placed an unmatchable bid on Alphonse’s virginity.

“Fifty thousand, going once!” Nobody said anything. Nobody would. This was the highest bid ever placed on the virginity of one of Papa’s sons. “Twice!” Alphonse did his best to make out the stranger in the crowd. He hadn’t come forward and the others blocked Alphonse’s line of sight. “Sold!” Papa shouted, sheer joy in his voice, nearly foaming at the mouth at the thought of collecting that massive sum of money. That was what Dorian made in seven months.

Alphonse had just become the highest earner.

The crowd parted so that Rudolf Blauvelt could make his way towards where Papa stood. The large man handed him the money in a small briefcase. He looked over at Alphonse, who grinned awkwardly. It slightly tickled Rudolf and made him all the more confident in his purchase. Papa grabbed Alphonse roughly by the wrist and pulled him towards the exit of the sitting room. Alphonse looked back, dragging his feet, trying to get a better look at the man who’d just dropped a small fortune on him.

Papa tightened his grip and pulled Alphonse more aggressively. He led him to a large room towards the rear of the bathhouse. This room was only used for special occasions such as this one.

“You’d better not fuck this up with that mouth of yours,” Papa said, opening the briefcase and taking in the money. Everything seemed to be in order, and after he got the opportunity to count the bills, he’d bring Rudolf Blauvelt to claim what he’d paid for. “You’re to be hospitable, you hear? Offer him refreshments. Make him feel good. If he has any reason to ask for this money back, I’ll kill you.”

Papa left the room and Alphonse stood frozen in the middle of it. Things were happening so suddenly. He didn’t know the auction and the copulation would be occurring in the same evening. He didn’t even know anything about the stranger, but then he realized that was a foolish notion. He had no reason to know anything about this man. He was a whore who’d been paid to perform a service. He was not being courted. Thirty minutes passed before the door to the back room was opened.

The stranger—Mr. Blauvelt—appeared.

Rudolf Blauvelt was an intimidating figure. He looked at Alphonse with a severe expression that caused the smaller man slight distress. Alphonse worried he’d already somehow ruined this transaction. Papa was going to kill him. He would die a virgin. Nobody would bid on him again. They wouldn’t believe he hadn’t been with Mr. Blauvelt.

Alphonse took in the imposing man before him. Rudolf was tall, broad, and serious. He certainly did not dress like a coal miner. He wore an expensive looking blue jacket with a black vest underneath. His pants were gray and tailored expertly to his strong legs. His middle was full, and it was more than obvious that he was wealthy enough to eat properly. He had thick well-groomed sideburns that ended at the same level as his pouty lips.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Alphonse offered as he had been instructed. The stranger shook his head. Al took a small step forward towards the man, trying to initiate what had been paid for. He wanted to get it over with. He wanted to get started paying off his family’s debts so he could return to them. “Well, would you like to begin, sir?” The stranger was silent for a moment.

“My name is Rudolf Blauvelt,” he said finally, removing his jacket. Alphonse did not move any further, unsure of what to do next. Introductions weren’t covered in his briefing. “I purchased your virginity, but I do not plan on claiming my prize just yet.”

“Is there a problem, sir?” Alphonse asked. “I am willing to do whatever it is you’d like. I may lack experience, but I promise to do my best.”

“We should begin getting to know one another,” Rudolf replied. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. He had thick forearms covered in dark hair that moved into powerful arms. His chest sat sturdily above his large, hefty belly. His thighs made Alphonse think of the largest of tree trunks, and he felt that Rudolf’s tailor deserved nothing but praise.

“Why pay fifty thousand marks to converse with a whore? Surely I can do something to satisfy you.” Rudolf strode over to him and grabbed his wrist even more roughly than Papa had. Rudolf turned him around, pressing his clothed crotch into Alphonse’s bare behind. He grabbed Alphonse by the throat, holding it with a slight amount of pressure. Alphonse was above average height, yet Rudolf was taller still. If Papa didn’t kill him, surely his new sponsor would.

Al could feel Rudolf’s sizable penis through the fabric and trembled at the thought that he wasn’t even erect. If he were raped by a man with such a substantial member, he’d be in pain for weeks. Besides Rudolf’s cock, Alphonse could feel the businessman’s firm stomach filling the space above his behind. If the situation weren’t so alarming, Alphonse felt he’d be enjoying himself.

“Is this what you want?” Rudolf asked, breathing heavily. “Do you want it to go this way? Painfully, without love? I could rape you and take what I paid for.”

“No, please,” Alphonse managed to get out. “I’m sorry, truly.” He’d been foolish. What did it matter that Rudolf Blauvelt wished to hold conversation before claiming what he paid for? He had a wonderful man pay for his virginity and in moments he had ruined it.

Alphonse whimpered and Rudolf released him.

“My sincerest apologies,” Rudolf offered, his dark eyes filling with sorrow at his impulsiveness. He felt naïve, believing he could build a relationship with this man. What was he doing spending so much money on a man he’d never even spoken to prior to this evening? He’d thought with his heart and not his head, hoping with persistence they could fall in love with one another. He’d been reading too many women’s novels. “I will make arrangements for you to continue living here without having to sleep with any man but me.” 

Alphonse nodded.

“Would that be all right with you?” 

“Yes, thank you,” was all Alphonse could muster, trying to stop himself from crying. Rudolf could tell he’d frightened the young man and hastily gathered his belongings in order to vacate the room, embarrassed and fearful that Alphonse would never see him as anything more than a beastly whoremonger. Before he could even close the door behind himself, he’d heard Alphonse burst into tears.

After abruptly leaving his initial session, Rudolf arranged for Alphonse to be his and only his with the owner of the bathhouse, Deidrick Schroeder. He made it explicitly clear that Alphonse was not to be forced to copulate with any others. He left Schroeder with enough money to cover any sessions Alphonse would be missing for the upcoming week before exiting the bathhouse.

Word spread quickly about Alphonse’s auction and the arrangements Rudolf had made. Some wished him great happiness; others gave nothing but rude remarks. They told him Rudolf would expect special sexual favors and that he wanted nothing more than to hurt Alphonse. Thinking about the way things ended at their initial meeting, Alphonse worried that what they said was true. Rudolf had been quite forceful. If he’d wanted to, he could have seriously hurt the smaller man.

Dorian was the most upset. He had lost the one thing that had made him happy, his title as best earner. “You know you’re not special,” he’d said the morning after the auction.

“I did not claim to be,” Alphonse replied. “I’ll never be able to make as much as you after this.”

“I’m glad that you know it.” Dorian walked away, so upset that he didn’t even want to look at Alphonse anymore. This was all that he had to bring him joy in the world. His family wouldn’t have him back after working in the bathhouse for so long. Dorian couldn’t believe it when they’d turned him away. They were the reason he was there. How could they abandon him after he’d done what he had to do to make sure they thrived? He threw himself into his work at the bathhouse. The sex made him feel good about himself, wanted. Making him feel like he had some sort of control over his life.

It took Rudolf five days before he was able to work up the nerve to return to see Alphonse. He still felt terrible about their last encounter. Rudolf had purchased a silk shirt and a box of very expensive chocolates. These small tokens of affection did not harm him financially, but he’d hoped they would show he sincerely regretted how he’d behaved. He was not an old man, at twenty-seven years of age, but a smart businessman. He’d taken the small sum of money he’d inherited after the deaths of his parents and grew it into a sizable fortune in the oil business.

Alphonse was informed of his visitor and sat nervously in the same room from a week earlier; the only difference was that he was fully clothed. Rudolf entered the room a bit nervously. He knew his size and demeanor made most people feel threatened. They were welcome qualities in the boardroom, but not when looking to build personal relationships.

The businessman placed the presents on a table near the door and walked further into the room towards where Alphonse stood. He reached out his hand as he would in the office; his face reddened noticeably as Alphonse shook his hand. He was being much too formal.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Alphonse asked, his voice trembling. He could not afford to mess this up like he had last week. Rudolf nodded. “What would you care for? We have wine, tea, and water.”

“Water would be fine.” Alphonse scurried about getting the beverage prepared. He grabbed a silver pitcher and poured cool water into a large glass, filling it a little more than half way. Rudolf wouldn’t have asked for anything if he’d known it would have caused such an ordeal. Alphonse held the glass of water as still as he could in his shaky hand and walked it over to where Rudolf stood in the middle of the room.

Alphonse lifted the glass, trying to hand it to Rudolf, but he accidentally tilted it forward, causing the smallest amount of water to spill on Rudolf’s jacket. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said in a petrified voice. “I—I am sorry.”

Alphonse could only think about the rough way he was reprimanded last time. Papa would’ve launched into a tirade about poise and composure.

“It’s only water,” Rudolf said with a gentle smile. “It’s fine, really.”

Rudolf took the glass from Alphonse, their hands touching for a moment. He drank what remained in the glass, offering a satisfied ahh when he was finished. 

“Thank you for your kindness, sir.”

“I wanted to give you something,” Rudolf said, trying his best to sound pleasant. He walked over to the small table near the door where he’d placed two gift-wrapped boxes. He first handed Alphonse the parcel with the shirt.

With unsure hands Alphonse took the box from Rudolf. He’d heard of people receiving tokens from patrons, but they’d put in the work to receive those gifts. He couldn’t fathom why Rudolf would be so kind. He’d mentioned before wanting to get to know one another, but Alphonse never considered he was being serious.

Alphonse carefully removed the fancy paper, wanting to hold onto it as a keepsake. He opened the box and took in a shirt made of extravagant emerald green fabric. His mouth fell open in surprise. This was the most luxurious thing he’d ever received. He looked up at Rudolf, unsure of whether or not this gift was truly meant for him.

“Won’t you try it on?” Rudolf asked.

Alphonse unbuttoned his white cotton top and stood before Rudolf shirtless for a moment. Rudolf could feel his pulse quickening. This man was absolutely gorgeous, with smooth reddish-brown skin that had been incredibly warm the last time he’d touched it. His broad shoulders and lean arms gave him a statuesque appearance. They couldn’t be more dissimilar. Rudolf thought of his own thick limbs and round stomach.

Alphonse pulled on the silk top. The size was a bit large, as Rudolf had no measurements to give his tailor, but he still looked incredibly handsome in it. It brought out the richness of his skin and made him look truly elegant. He took in his appearance in a mirror positioned in a corner of the room. What wonders a piece of cloth could provide.

“Thank you, sir,” Alphonse said gratefully.

“You should call me Rudolf—or Rudy if you’d prefer. My mother called me Rudy.” He handed him the chocolates. “I hope you like chocolate.” Alphonse smiled brightly, making Rudolf extraordinarily happy.

Alphonse strode over to the bed excitedly and took off the shirt, laying it out to make sure it didn’t wrinkle. He didn’t want to chance a stain. He grabbed the chocolate and walked back over to Rudolf.

“My mother used to buy me chocolate on my birthday.” Al smiled again. “She would say, ‘Here’s a little treat that’s almost as sweet as you.’” He opened the box and ate one. The flavor seemed so foreign to him now. Chocolates weren’t given in the bathhouse.

“Do you like them?” Rudolf asked. Alphonse nodded and took another chocolate from the box. He put it up to Rudolf’s mouth. He quickly realized his oversight and moved his hand. He had just wanted to convey his overflowing happiness. “Can I have my chocolate?” Rudolf asked.

Alphonse placed it to his lips and felt Rudolf’s mouth cover his fingers for a moment, sucking on them gently. “Do you like chocolate?” Alphonse asked, his entire body tingling.

“I love chocolate.” Alphonse laughed in appreciation of their newfound friendliness. He reached into the box and brought another to Rudolf’s lips.

“I bought these for you,” he said, laughing softly.

“I like sharing with you,” Alphonse replied. They stood like this, eating the chocolates together. For every three he fed Rudolf, Alphonse would have one. Before long, the twelve pieces of chocolate had been consumed and the fires of lust and romance had been fanned beyond containment.

Rudolf’s visits became more and more numerous. They’d become so frequent, in fact, that after two months of being on the market, Alphonse had repaid his debts to Papa. One afternoon in early December, Papa stormed into the room Alphonse still shared with the other Al.

“Pack your bags.”

“What do you mean?” Alphonse asked in disbelief. “I’ve only been on the market for a little over two months.” Papa grunted angrily at the statement. It wasn’t just that Rudolf Blauvelt had been purchasing sessions with Alphonse, it was the fact that he’d been paying for exclusivity. He’d invested quite a sum in his pursuit of Alphonse’s affections.

“Your debt has been repaid courtesy of Mr. Blauvelt.”

“I have an appointment with Rudolf this evening,” Alphonse said, wanting to reunite with his family, but not wanting to stand Rudolf up. Maybe now that he was no longer employed at the bathhouse, they could spend more time together free of charge.

“I’ve called and cancelled said appointment,” Papa said angrily. “This isn’t some café. If you want to meet with him, make those arrangements outside of these premises.” With that, Papa left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

“You—you’re free,” Alvin exclaimed, a small jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach. “You can go home to your mother and your sisters. Hurry before he fabricates a reason for you to stay!” Alphonse moved quickly, collecting his few belongings and placing them in the single suitcase he owned. It was the same suitcase that had brought him to the bathhouse. One thing stayed on his mind as he finished gathering his things—Rudolf. Would they see each other again? Did Rudolf even know he’d been relieved of his duties at the bathhouse? He couldn’t just leave without telling him where he’d be.

He and Alvin stood in the doorway and embraced one another for a moment. “I’m a little scared,” Alphonse admitted. “What am I to do?”

“You must go and find your family,” Alvin replied. He had tears in his eyes, and it pained Alphonse to leave his friend behind. “Hug your sisters for me.”

Alvin didn’t have the strength to see Alphonse out of the bathhouse; it would take too much of an emotional toll. After they said their goodbyes, he re-entered the bedroom they’d shared up until moments before and closed the door. Alphonse made his way down the hallway towards the stairs. He encountered Dorian at the stair’s landing near his bedroom.

“Come here a moment, Alphonse,” Dorian said, entering his sleeping quarters. Alphonse followed.

“Do you wish to chastise me some more before I go?” Alphonse asked.

“Quite the opposite.” He sat on his bed and crossed his legs. He wore an oversized white shirt and a baggy pair of slacks. Even in these items he emitted an aura of intense sex appeal. “I have questions about Rudolf Blauvelt. What is it you did to make him spend so much on you? What is your technique?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What did you do to bewitch him so? Do you have some sort of method to enrapture a man so completely that he spends a fortune for time with you?” Alphonse stared at Dorian with a confused look in his eye, causing the more experienced of the pair to be more direct. “How did you work his cock?”

“We’ve just talked,” Alphonse said. “I offered myself to him, but he said he wanted to get to know me first.”

“It doesn’t take two months to get to know a man,” Dorian scoffed. “The men who frequent this place are easy to read. They’re either homosexuals who have no appeal or married men with homosexual tendencies but no desire to leave their wives.”

“I don’t think Rudolf is either of those things.”

“So, you haven’t even seen his cock?”

“No.” Alphonse wondered why this was embarrassing him so intensely. Why hadn’t Rudolf made his move yet? Al considered the possibility that Rudolf was hiding something about himself.

“If he’s a homosexual and not just a married man blowing off steam, he’ll be willing to do things the others won’t.” Alphonse held the handle of his suitcase tightly. He wanted to know Dorian’s secrets. If he were to see Rudolf again, he wanted to make sure the businessman was properly compensated for his generosity. “I assume you’ll be on the receiving end of that mystery member. If he puts it in right away, you’ll be in a world of pain. Ask him to loosen you up with his fingers. Have him kiss you and caress you. He should have you begging him to fuck you.”

“Does Mr. Pfeiffer do these things for you?” Alphonse asked, intrigued by all of this information.

“Most certainly, when he’s feeling especially dominant, but usually it is I who does these things for him,” Dorian replied, smiling. “If you really want to push Rudolf Blauvelt, see if he’ll even loosen you up with his tongue. It works wonders.” Dorian stuck his tongue out for effect, licking the air between his pointer and middle fingers slowly. Alphonse’s eyes widened in surprise causing Dorian to fall back on his mattress in a fit of giggles. “You really are a virgin, young Alphonse.”

“Would he really want to do that?” Alphonse asked, ignoring Dorian’s laughter at his inexperience.

“You take a long hot bath and scrub yourself clean beforehand, and he won’t be able to stop. Have him rub some olive oil on his cock and your hole before he puts it in, and things will go smoothly, literally.”

Alphonse paused, looking at the bathhouse’s highest earner, and felt himself getting sentimental. He had a feeling that he might not ever see Dorian again and it made him somewhat melancholic.

“I really appreciate you telling me all of these things,” Alphonse began. “I—I know you’ve hated me because of what happened, but I’ve always kind of admired you. I always thought we were similar, different from all the other men here. I still do.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Dorian said, standing. He was just a hair taller than Alphonse. “I hope you and the rich man are very happy together. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to prepare for.” Alphonse nodded and left the room. Dorian smiled to himself, touched slightly by Alphonse’s words, but also at the thought that the number one spot would soon belong to him once more.

Alphonse hesitated in the foyer for a moment. How would he find Rudolf? Would this be the end of their relationship? Papa shouted at him to get out, pushing him into the street outside of the bathhouse entrance. “Feel free to come back when you’re ready to make me some more money.”

Outside, he could feel all of his blood rushing to the pit of his stomach. His limbs suddenly went cold as he stumbled down the street towards his childhood home. He hadn’t heard from or seen his family since he was taken in by Papa. The workers were unaware, but Papa made sure any parcels or letters sent to the bathhouse were destroyed. He didn’t want his sons to be distracted from their work. He also found it easier to break his sons if they believed nobody wished to contact them. It was a powerful tactic, isolation.

Things in the red-light district were familiar to Alphonse, as that’s as far as the sons were allowed to travel, but as he got farther away from the bathhouse, things became unrecognizable. There were new buildings and different avenues he hadn’t seen before.

He wandered the streets for nearly two hours when he finally found landmarks that he could recall from three years ago. He ran excitedly down the street, his suitcase bobbing in his hand. He passed a row of shops that hadn’t changed at all! He encountered the large tree that the neighborhood had fought the city to save. He was almost home! They had lived in a small duplex, the other half occupied by a family even larger than his own.

He arrived where his home should have been. He should have been looking at a dingy maisonette with blue doors and crumbling brick and children’s toys scattered about the stairs. But he saw no such things. He saw a large vacant plot of land with remnants of what had once been. 

The small duplex had completely burned to ashes.

Alphonse dropped his suitcase and walked into the rubble, where their kitchen should have been. He knelt and grabbed an old hand mirror. The handle was snapped and the glass shattered, but he knew this had once belonged to his mother. Where were they now? He had to find them. He’d talk to the neighbors. He’d find out their new address.

“Shame isn’t it?” Al looked up at a man he remembered lived next door. “Those three fine ladies were left alone by that riff raff boy.”

Alphonse knew he was that riff raff boy.

“Where are they now?” he asked. The man’s face was suddenly sympathetic.

“Well, you see, they died trying their hands at being laundresses. If it wasn’t bad enough, they managed to take out the family next door as well. Thank the heavens the fire brigade was able to contain the blaze to this one plot of land.” The neighbor sighed. “Aye, but still, I can’t believe it’s been nearly three years since then. Real tragic, ain’t it?”

Alphonse’s entire body was shaking. He began to sob and the man who’d informed him of what had happened went on his way. Alphonse was all alone. He’d have to return to the bathhouse and beg Papa to hire him. Papa would charge him outrageously for room and board, never allowing for his debt to be paid down. He’d spend the best years of his life a whore, before being tossed out on the street when he was no longer profitable.

He sat amongst the rubble for an hour, before the cold became too much. He began his journey back to the bathhouse, the only thing keeping him from utter despair was the thought that he’d be able to see Rudolf again.

Papa had telephoned Rudy and told him not to return, for Alphonse would not be there. Thankfully, Rudolf Blauvelt was not the type of man to take orders. He spent the afternoon driving around their town in his motorcar in search of Alphonse. He found him shuffling along with his suitcase about a mile from the bathhouse. He parked his car quickly and got out.

“Alphonse,” Rudolf called.

“Rudy!” he exclaimed, his heart struggling to process the conflicting emotions of grief and joy. His family was gone, but the man he’d begun to love was standing before him. He dropped his suitcase and hugged Rudolf happily. Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall and as they spoke to one another their breath made small clouds of frost. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Rudolf smiled; he was in disbelief that another person could be so grateful to be in his presence. He worried that all the time they’d spent together meant nothing to Alphonse. Rudy understood that their relationship had been transactional. He knew that Alphonse had to entertain him and treat him with kindness or Schroeder would abuse him.

“I don’t know if you can believe this,” Alphonse began. “But you single-handedly purchased my freedom. I have nothing but the utmost gratitude for you, Rudolf.”

“That’s wonderful. Where are you going now?” Rudolf asked. “I can take you.”

Alphonse was silent a moment. All of the money Rudolf had spent on him was wasted. Rudolf placed his hand underneath Alphonse’s chin and lifted his head so that they were looking at one another. He could sense that something was amiss with the beautiful younger man. He asked him what was wrong and for him to be honest.

“I was on my way back to the bathhouse,” Alphonse replied finally, looking away from Rudolf. “I—I have nowhere else to go.”

“What of your family?” he asked. “Your mother and sisters?”

“They’re dead,” Alphonse said aloud for the first time since hearing the news. “There was a fire. Nearly three years ago. I was stuck in the bathhouse dreaming of the day I’d be free, and I had no idea that what remained of my family was already gone.”

Rudolf felt deep pain for Alphonse. They’d spoken of his past during one of their many sessions the past two months. His mother was mentally unstable and walked into a pond until she was completely submerged and drowned. His father couldn’t take the loneliness and shot himself. He was heartbroken for Alphonse and hated that the young man had to endure such sadness.

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” Alphonse said, mustering a smile, “but I hope to see you again at the bathhouse sometime.”

“That notion is absolutely ludicrous,” Rudolf replied, bending down to grab Alphonse’s measly suitcase.

“I’ll take my bag and be on my way,” Alphonse said, feeling defeated. Was Rudolf saying he’d never pay to visit him again? Al didn’t want Rudy’s money, but what other option did he have? He needed a place to stay out of the cold.

“You will do no such thing. You shall stay with me.”

“I couldn’t impose on you in such a way,” Alphonse replied, reaching for his suitcase. Rudolf was just being a gentleman. There was no way he’d want a former whore in his home.

“My motorcar is this way,” Rudolf stated plainly, ignoring Alphonse’s polite refusal. Alphonse had never ridden in a car before and the idea excited him. He walked along next to the large, serious man until they came to his car. It was a large machine and truly a testament to the ingenuity of humanity. “Let’s go. Come on then.” Rudy opened the door for Alphonse and helped him into the car before handing him his suitcase.

“Thank you,” Alphonse managed to get out before he began to cry silent tears. He cried all the way to Rudolf’s townhouse.

When they arrived, Rudolf busied himself in the kitchen, knowing that in times of grief it was important to eat a warm meal. He allowed Alphonse to freshen up and take a moment to himself. He didn’t employ any help. He cooked his own meals and cleaned his own home. Though Alphonse noticed that Rudolf must have pushed housework until it was absolutely necessary. His home could use a good scrubbing, but the townhouse was absolutely gorgeous underneath the clutter. The home was four floors, with the kitchen and dining room on the lowest level. The second floor had multiple bedrooms and the master bath, the third floor a study and home library. The fourth floor contained a solarium filled with many different plants that had seen better days.

Rudolf chopped onions and potatoes. He seared a cut of beef on the stovetop before plating it and allowing it to rest. He’d gotten this recipe down to a science and it was actually quite flavorful. He only knew how to successfully prepare this one dish, a skillet meal of meat and potatoes. He cooked quite a grand amount, not much more than what he usually made, but still grand. He set the table and called Alphonse to dinner.

His dining room table was large, but Rudolf made sure to position the chairs so that they weren’t very far from one another. He served Alphonse, filling his plate with a substantial portion. Alphonse found the dish incredibly filling. His appetite had not yet fully returned, so he ate only a small amount of what had been given to him.

He sat as Rudolf continued to eat. The large businessman was finishing up his third helping, having completely emptied the serving dish. This was when he noticed Alphonse had stopped eating.

“Is it not to your liking?” he asked, fearing Alphonse did not enjoy his specialty. “It’s the only thing I ever learned to make. I eat it nearly every day.”

“You made so much, Rudy. It was certainly an exquisite meal. I apologize for not being able to finish it.” Alphonse smiled and stood up from his chair. He took his plate over to where Rudolf sat and scrapped his remaining food onto his dish. “You’re such a large man, Rudy. Surely you must need more to eat, yes?”

“Well, I guess you’re right.” Alphonse smiled again, feeling less anguish at the loss of his family. Rudolf dug into his now fourth helping as Alphonse watched him consume the large amount of food. As turbulent as the last three years of his life had been, being with Rudolf in this moment made Alphonse feel incredibly warm and secure. It was something that he’d greatly desired.

“From now on, I will do the cleaning and prepare your meals,” Al announced. He had told himself the moment he walked into Rudolf’s home he was not going to be a bother. He was going to make Rudolf happy. He was going to repay Rudolf for all of his generosity.

“Really that’s unnecessary,” Rudolf said, smiling. “If you think we need to hire some staff, I have the means to pay for it.”

“I’d like to do this for you,” Alphonse said. “It will give me something to focus on, please.”

“If it gets to be too much of a burden, please don’t hesitate to let me know. You’re no servant here.”

After their meal, Rudolf asked Alphonse where he wished to sleep in the house. He didn’t intend to force him to sleep in the same bedroom. There were five of them in his home. “I can’t stay with you?” Alphonse asked nervously.

He had expected Rudolf to collect what he’d paid for long ago and wondered what it was that was keeping them from having intercourse. Did he not care for a sexual relationship? Maybe Dorian had been correct in his assessment of the situation. Maybe Rudolf was hiding something.

“You wish to stay with me? In my bedroom?” Rudolf asked, his face reddening. He wanted nothing more than for Alphonse to stay with him. But he wanted him to do it freely, without having to be paid or coerced.

“Of course, unless—” Al found himself at a loss for words, which shocked him for he usually had too many. “I think that I have possibly misunderstood our relationship. Do you like men? Or are you just, perhaps, an exceedingly kind businessman?”

“I do prefer the company of men, but I, as yourself, have never engaged in—”

“You’re a virgin!?” The words echoed throughout the entire house. Alphonse couldn’t believe it. He didn’t feel the word virgin and Rudolf Blauvelt could ever coexist in the same sentence. He coughed slightly. “My apologies, I was quite loud.”

“You see, I have not had many opportunities to lose my virginity. No man ever responded to me and I hadn’t wanted to sleep with any woman. I was going to get it out of the way by purchasing another virgin, so I wouldn’t feel so—so inexperienced.”

Alphonse could barely believe what it was that he was hearing. Surely there were men interested in Rudolf. Alphonse’s eyes traveled to Rudolf’s masculine belly, whilst he attempted to suppress a stirring in his groin. The businessman was larger, yes, but also incredibly handsome. His dark brown hair was full and long, usually combed back out of his face. He had a strong jawline and a prominent nose. His lips were full and well moisturized. Alphonse knew precisely what had happened; Rudolf Blauvelt was unable to pick up on flirtations.

“I hope when the time comes, we can be one another’s firsts,” Alphonse replied, actually quite glad that nobody had gotten to copulate with the sexy businessman. They smiled at one another and enjoyed a hearty laugh.

Alphonse’s first month living with Rudolf was a busy one. The younger man spent his days doing exactly what he had been doing in the bathhouse, cooking and cleaning. Things weren’t exactly the same, however, as he was actually enjoying the work. Seeing how impressed Rudolf was with his progress each evening filled the younger man with joy. Al made sure to have a warm meal waiting for the businessman every night when he got in from his office in town. Rudy hadn’t eaten such a variety of foods in years. Alphonse had purchased a new cookbook and dedicated himself to improving his culinary abilities.

There were small things about being around Rudolf that would push Alphonse to the brink. Watching Rudolf dress himself for work in the morning was Alphonse’s favorite part of the day. As the weeks went by, there’d be more of a struggle to do up the buttons on his shirts and trousers. Before he could start his day, Alphonse would have to touch himself, thinking about Rudy’s masculine frame lumbering out of their bedroom on his way into town. The businessman was naturally large, with the biggest hands and feet Alphonse had ever seen. But recently, the floorboards had begun to creak more with his steps and the bed would sink a little bit lower when he laid down. Alphonse took note of all of these things, becoming more and more sexually frustrated the longer he stayed in Rudolf’s home.

One evening, Rudolf ripped his trousers right up the back. His meaty backside had caused him great difficulty getting dressed that morning, and he had yet to see his tailor. Most of his clothes fit a bit more snuggly in the month Alphonse had been preparing the meals. He noticed his weight gain and tried his best to keep it hidden from his almost-lover. He slipped away and changed his pants before returning to the dining room for dinner.

He had news to share.

Rudy sat at the dining room table, and they ate a plentiful meal. They spoke of their days and how they were feeling. Alphonse made sure Rudolf had generous helpings of braised beef, white bean stew, and freshly baked bread. There wasn’t much of anything left over and Al felt good about making food that Rudolf enjoyed so thoroughly. Alphonse began to clear the dishes and platters that still covered the table.

“Al, I’ve been invited to an opera and was informed I could bring one guest,” Rudolf said, feeling this was the appropriate time to bring up the news he hoped would excite Alphonse. “Won’t you join me?”

“Me?” Alphonse asked, stacking the dishes on top of one another. “I’ve never been to an opera before. Don’t you think it would be best to take someone else?”

Alphonse knew he did not understand the high-class lifestyle Rudolf and his colleagues enjoyed. He had been poor his entire life. He wasn’t well educated and knew nothing of world affairs. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he embarrassed Rudolf in public. He figured it would be for the best if things continued on as they had been, with him remaining behind, doing what was useful to Rudolf at home.

“I wish to take the one who has been taking such good care of me.” He smiled at Alphonse.

“Surely you could attend with a colleague from the office. Perhaps make it a business meeting.”

“Do you not wish to go with me?”

“I never want to leave your side,” Alphonse stated honestly. “It’s just—I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I don’t want to do anything that might make you look less than. Opera houses aren’t for people like me.”

“You shall never think that way again, do you understand?” He looked seriously at Alphonse, who stood with the stack of dishes in his hands. “You are just as important to this world as any other man. You being yourself will never embarrass me.”

“Rudolf, I—”

“Won’t you join me?” Rudolf asked once again, unwilling to take no for an answer. “I will take you to be fitted for a suit and it’ll be such fun to enjoy your presence outside of this house.”

“All right, if you insist,” he agreed, nodding, trying to suppress an overly enthusiastic grin. Alphonse went into the kitchen to fetch dessert. He paused for a moment when he was alone. He knew that he’d recently faced a sizable hardship, but he hadn’t the time to feel melancholy. Being with Rudolf raised his spirits immensely.

He allowed himself a wide smile, feeling embarrassed at his own glee. He’d be attending an opera with a man he was falling in love with. Three months ago, Alphonse was certain he’d never work his way out of Papa’s clutches, but here he was enjoying life despite its setbacks.

Everything about Rudolf had Alphonse in a state of constant arousal. The way Rudolf smelled after a shower was just as appealing as the slightly sweaty smell he’d have after a long day of work. He appreciated Rudolf’s shy smiles and calm chuckles. Al was especially excited by how some of Rudolf’s garments tightly encased his large, powerful body. He feigned obliviousness that very evening when Rudolf split his pants in the back, his penis standing at attention as he watched the businessman shuffle off to their bedroom with nary an excuse or explanation.

Al took in the cake he’d prepared that afternoon, continuing to smile to himself, knowing it was the perfect way to celebrate their plans to attend a function together publicly. He held it carefully in his hands as he returned to the dining room.

“What’s this now?” Rudolf asked, amazed at the confection before him.

“We almost forgot dessert,” Al exclaimed. “In the market today, cocoa was on sale. I’ve wanted to make a chocolate cake for a long time. I do hope you’ll enjoy it.” He excitedly cut a slice for Rudolf and set it in front of him. He remembered the day where their relationship really began to develop, with that box of decadent chocolates. Just thinking about how Rudolf sucked on his fingers was getting Alphonse excited.

“Mmm, this is delicious Alphonse,” Rudolf said as he finished his first slice of cake. “Your food is the best I’ve ever eaten. You’d think a trained patisserie had baked this.”

“Really? That’s fantastic.” He grabbed Rudolf’s empty plate and put another substantial slice on it before placing it back in front of the businessman. “Please, have some more.” Rudolf happily dug into this piece as well. He never ate dessert when he lived alone.

Alphonse enjoyed cooking for Rudolf almost as much as he enjoyed his growing stature. He’d always had an eye for the larger patrons in the bathhouse, and as nervous as he was during his auction, he was silently happy his virginity was purchased by such a handsome man.

Al saw Rudolf’s growth as a sign. It was a sign that he was doing something that created progress. He was able to give something to Rudolf, who had given him so much. The larger Rudy got, the more Alphonse saw him as a strong, intelligent, powerful man, who would always need someone to prepare his meals and—hopefully—make love to.

After most of the cake resided in Rudolf’s stomach, Alphonse went to start on the dishes. He stood at the sink in the kitchen and did his best to calm himself. He hadn’t been able to relieve himself this morning, having had errands to run outside of the townhouse. All he could think about was the look of pleasure on Rudolf’s face as he ate the cake, as he consumed the meal. He had caused that look with the food he prepared, and he wanted nothing more than to cause that same expression using his own body. He couldn’t focus on the dishes. His mind wandered to what Dorian had told him.

He wanted to feel Rudolf’s hands and mouth on his body. When the foreplay became too much to handle, he wanted to beg Rudolf to fuck him. Their courtship had lasted long enough. Tonight would be the night.

Alphonse left the dishes in the sink, grabbed the olive oil, and ran to the bathroom. He hurriedly ran the water, filling the tub. This feeling, it was consuming him. He could wait no longer. He needed Rudolf. He needed to feel the larger man inside of himself. He tied his long hair up with a ribbon. He removed his clothing hastily, stepping into the clawfoot tub. He added generous amounts of soap and peppermint oil to the water. He began to scrub his body vigorously, paying close attention to his asshole.

He touched his hole, his eyes closed. It pulsated gently, demanding to be played with. He scrubbed it again, adding more soap to his washcloth.

He bathed for nearly thirty minutes before he drained the water, wanting to make sure he was absolutely pristine. He got out of the tub and dried himself hastily, not any less aroused. His penis had been stiff since dinner, and it began to ache. He walked from the bathroom in the nude, olive oil in hand. He found Rudolf in his pajamas, reading in bed.

“Alphonse,” he said in surprise, unsure of what was happening. He set his book on the nightstand to his left. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Is everything all right?”

“I can wait not a second longer, Rudolf,” the nude man said honestly. “I need you.”

Rudolf took in Alphonse’s erection, feeling his own member stiffening to its full nine inches. Al walked over to the bed, his long limbs gliding effortlessly. Rudolf thought he looked like a painting, one that belonged in the finest museum. His trim waist and round behind were most alluring. Alphonse set the bottle of olive oil on the nightstand next to Rudolf’s romance novel. He turned his attention to Rudolf, moving to unbutton his nightshirt.

“Things are moving so quickly,” Rudolf said, his face reddening.

“Not quick enough.” The shirt had been removed and Alphonse was able to take in the effects of the evening’s meal. Rudolf was broad shouldered, yes, but everything else about him was just as wide. He had large arms that were soft with fat, which covered the muscles of his teenage years. His chest sagged slightly, and he had substantial pink nipples. His meaty pecs sat atop a bloated middle, which rested in his lap comfortably. Alphonse’s cock jumped taking in Rudolf’s body.

“Dorian said you were to kiss me all over before we begin.” Rudolf nodded, understanding this would be put off no longer. As nervous as he was, he was glad Alphonse had taken the initiative. Alphonse walked closer to Rudolf at the edge of bed and the businessman placed his solid hands around his waist, pulling him closer. Rudolf kissed his middle softly, working his way towards Alphonse’s nipples. He began to suck on them before giving them a few gentle nibbles. Alphonse gasped, never imagining his nipples could make him feel this way.

“What else did Dorian tell you?” Rudolf asked between kisses. He licked Alphonse’s skin, which was smooth and smelled of peppermint.

“He said you had to loosen me up with your fingers and—and your tongue.”

“Get on the bed,” Rudolf commanded, standing and removing his night pants. His own member was now free from the confines of his clothing. Alphonse rested on his arms and knees, arching his back. Rudolf found himself salivating at the sight of Alphonse’s generously proportioned behind. He spread the cheeks, looking at his clean, slightly pink hole. He brought his face close to it and gave it a few apprehensive licks before losing himself to the experience. He worked Alphonse’s hole with his tongue like he’d done it a million times before.

Al moaned loudly, wishing there were some way to repay Dorian for making all of this possible. His toes curled as Rudolf continued to loosen him up with his tongue, some of the licks traveling towards his balls. As Dorian had said, he was on the brink of begging for it.

“You’re supposed to—to use the olive oil to finger me,” Alphonse said, trying to steady his voice. His breathing was deep and labored. “You should put some on your cock as well.”

Rudolf did as he was told, and slowly inserted an oiled-up finger inside of Alphonse. “How are you?” Rudy asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, burying his face in the bedspread. “Please, keep going.” Alphonse’s hole pulsated around Rudolf’s thick middle finger. He was loosening up nicely and after a few minutes of being stimulated by one finger, Rudolf was able to add another. Alphonse felt his hips moving, trying to intensify the pleasure he was experiencing with just Rudolf’s fingers. “Put—put it in now, Rudolf.”

“Are you certain, Alphonse?” Rudolf asked, wanting to continue only if his lover were willing. He removed his fingers from inside of Alphonse slowly. “If you feel this was enough for a first venture, we can stop now.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Alphonse replied, his voice muffled by the blanket, his face still buried in its softness. He lifted his head, wanting to better express himself. He took a deep breath, looking back at Rudolf’s massive form behind him. “I want you to fuck me.”

Rudolf stood upright and took in Alphonse’s oiled behind. It looked firm and large for his thin frame. The sheen of the oil highlighted his smooth brown skin. Al was near the edge of the bed, his ass close enough for Rudolf to access. The businessman pulled at the ribbon in Alphonse’s hair, allowing the smaller man’s corkscrew coils to fan out in a dark halo. Al flicked his neck slightly, allowing his hair to fall more aesthetically.

Rudolf placed the head of his member near Al’s hole and worked himself inside gently. He couldn’t believe how incredible this felt. Alphonse was still breathing loudly, his entire body reacting to this experience.

“More,” Alphonse cried, feeling euphoric as Rudolf hit his prostate.

Rudolf pushed his entire cock into Alphonse, moving back and forth rhythmically. The sound of his thick upper thighs slamming against Alphonse’s ass as he pounded away was turning him on even more. Alphonse moaned loudly after a few minutes of this, ejaculating all over himself and the duvet. Rudolf kept going, continuing for nearly ten minutes before he filled Alphonse with his seed. When they were both finished, they laid out on the bed together, neither speaking. Alphonse reached out his hand, grabbing Rudolf’s.

They remained like this for some time.

They awoke early the next day, a Friday. Rudolf had already arranged a visit to the tailor before he even discussed attending the opera with Alphonse. Al had never owned a suit and Rudolf knew he’d definitely have to go up a size or two.

“Mr. Blauvelt, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Hans Reinhart, the tailor, said with a slight nod of his head. “What can I do for you?” He noticed Alphonse finally, standing nervously behind one of his most prestigious customers. Rudolf carried a bag of clothes he needed repaired and let out.

“Yes, Hans, it is nice to see you as well. We’ve come today because my friend here needs a suit for the opera opening in the spring.” Rudolf hesitated a moment, lowering his voice even though he, Alphonse, and Hans Reinhart were the only people in the shop. “I also need some things sewn up and, well—let out a bit.”

Hans raised his eyebrows in surprise, but that was only a polite gesture. Rudolf had just purchased new suits for the colder seasons back in September. It had hardly been five months since then, but looking at Mr. Blauvelt before him, Hans thought it was painfully obvious the man had gotten larger. He’d seen it before with other customers, but it was more of a yearly occurrence, not after a few months.

Rudolf handed the bag to the tailor, who took the heavy sack of clothing in his open arms. He wondered how many items Mr. Blauvelt had shoved in there. He propped the bag against one of the walls, turning his attention towards Alphonse, who was still semi-hiding behind Rudolf. “Young man, what kind of suit would you like?”

Alphonse froze; he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to pick for himself. What if he got the wrong thing? As opinionated as he’d been his entire life, this new world was breaking him down, making him overly conscious that he didn’t have experiences like Rudolf’s.

He’d never been to an opera or to visit a tailor. He’d never lived in such a luxurious home or ridden in a motorcar. He felt everything about himself wasn’t enough.

“Go ahead, Alphonse,” Rudolf said gently. “Get whatever your heart desires.”

“Well, something very simple would be nice,” he started, looking Hans Reinhart in the eye for the first time. “Black would be fine—or even, perhaps, a navy.”

“Which is it then? Black or navy?” Hans asked, scribbling down the options Alphonse had just requested. “You’ll want a shirt, won’t you?” He was used to his clientele being more straightforward in their requests, knowing immediately what they wanted.

“I’d like for the suit to be navy, please.” Alphonse grabbed onto Rudolf for a moment, trying to calm himself. Rudolf looked at him with supportive eyes, but Alphonse misread the intent of his lover’s gaze. He quickly removed his hand from Rudy’s beefy arm, forgetting that behind closed doors they could touch one another as they pleased, but in public it was probably for the best to keep a respectable distance. “And a cream-colored shirt would suffice.” Hans continued to write down what Alphonse asked for.

“Come now. Let me get your measurements.” Alphonse stepped from behind Rudolf and walked over to where Mr. Reinhart stood. “Mr. Blauvelt, I’ll re-measure you and take a look at those garments you need mended next.”

He and Alphonse walked off to the back of the shop. Alphonse followed Hans Reinhart’s instructions, as this was his first time being measured by a professional tailor. As a child, his mother used to make all of his clothes. And once he arrived in the bathhouse, he wore hand-me-downs from the other workers.

“Your proportions make very easy work for me,” Hans remarked.

“Thank you,” Alphonse replied.

“Would you send Mr. Blauvelt back,” Hans said, scribbling the last of Al’s measurements on a sheet of paper. “Ask him to bring the bag with the garments.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alphonse returned to where Rudolf stood and gave the directions Mr. Reinhart had asked him to pass along. Rudolf thanked Alphonse and went to the back of the store to be re-measured. He stood as Hans poked and prodded him, wrapping his tape measure around him in various ways. Hans would mumble to himself in surprise before recording Rudolf’s measurements on his note sheet.

“Goodness, all of your measurements have gone up substantially,” Hans expressed in shock, looking down at what he’d written. “Your waist, thighs, chest, all of you! If you keep growing at this rate, you’ll single-handedly keep me in business.” He laughed and Rudolf did as well, although he didn’t find it nearly as humorous.

“Will you be able to fix those items?” Rudolf asked, watching Hans paw through the numerous garments he’d brought to be let out.

“Honestly, Mr. Blauvelt,” Hans began. “I don’t think I can let these items out any more than I already have. I also don’t think mending these pants and shirts will do much good if you aren’t trying to slim down any time soon.”

Rudolf looked at the tailor seriously, embarrassed at what he was being told. He was only glad Alphonse was not around to witness his great shame.

“I mean no disrespect,” Hans continued, clearing his throat. “I’m speaking to you honestly when I let you know I could fix these items, but that won’t extend their lifespans long enough to the point you’d be getting your money’s worth. Perhaps I can construct some new items for you?”

Rudolf considered this, thinking about how much Alphonse enjoyed cooking and spoiling him. He could ask the smaller man to cut back on the quantity of food he prepared, maybe limit desserts to special occasions, but he didn’t want to take away something Al found purpose in. Rudy also considered how much he enjoyed eating the food Alphonse prepared. They were happy the way things were. Why would he want to disrupt that happiness?

“Well,” Rudolf started, “I think it’d be for the best to construct new garments. I’ll need them as soon as possible, considering a majority of my wardrobe is unusable.” Hans nodded, writing on his note sheet. “I’ll need five suits, ten shirts, and five pairs of trousers.”

“I will have these completed two weeks from today,” Hans said. He’d make sure his seamstresses worked diligently for one of his best customers.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Blauvelt?”

“I’ll probably end up carrying some more weight this winter. I’d like for these items to be a few inches larger than the measurements you have recorded.”

“Of course, Mr. Blauvelt,” Hans replied. “I’ll see you and your, erm—assistant in two Fridays when you come to pick up your order. You’ll both be the best dressed at the opera.”

“Thank you.”

Rudolf strolled back out to the main area of the shop where he found Alphonse entranced by bolts of fabric. He watched for a moment as Alphonse gently ran his hand over some of the silks and laces. His hair hung down in a thick sheet of tight curls. He wore a simple white shirt and dark slacks, his body alluring even in such plain clothing items.

In that moment, Rudolf was certain he was in love with Alphonse.

“Let’s go home,” Rudolf said, walking to where Al stood. They made their way out of the shop and back to Rudolf’s car.

The businessman had planned to go into the office for the afternoon, but he telephoned his secretary and let her know he wouldn’t be in until Monday. He wanted more of Alphonse’s bountiful behind. His mouth salivated at the thought of burying his face in those cheeks once more. Alphonse had unearthed a beast, who would likely never be satisfied.

“Should I prepare luncheon?” Alphonse asked, hanging up his and Rudolf’s jackets.

“We can eat later,” Rudolf said, sucking his bottom lip as he watched Alphonse move about the foyer. “What I want now is you.”

Alphonse was still riding the high from the night prior. It was almost as if he could still feel Rudolf inside of himself. He hadn’t considered that the businessman would want to have intercourse again so soon.

Rudolf grabbed Alphonse by the arm and pulled him close enough that they could kiss one another. The larger man felt Alphonse’s free hand on his belly, caressing it gently. They broke apart and Rudolf held Al’s hand in his own, leading him up the stairs to the second floor where their bedroom awaited them.

“What’s come over you?” Alphonse asked, watching Rudolf’s wide, powerful behind shifting with each step up the staircase.

“You’re much too irresistible,” Rudolf replied, his voice tinged in desire.

They both removed their clothing once in the master bedroom. They stood naked in front of one another, appraising each other lovingly. They both had strong erections, pointing upwards in excitement. With only a slight awkwardness, they embraced one another.

The pair made love the entire afternoon, Alphonse almost unable to keep up with Rudolf’s enthusiasm. They finally took a break when the businessman’s stomach growled loudly. Alphonse placed his hand on Rudolf’s stomach dotingly.

“You’ve worked up an appetite,” he said.

“I certainly have.”

“Good thing I’ve already done the shopping.” Alphonse hopped out of bed, his legs a little wobbly. He did his best to stand upright. “I’m going to make you the most extravagant meal!”

Still a little off balance, he strolled out of the bedroom to the kitchen, already erect again in anticipation of the faces Rudolf would make while eating the meal he was about to prepare.

As the days rolled by, the frequency of Alphonse and Rudolf’s lovemaking only intensified. They’d built a momentum that would have worn out any other couple. Rudolf would take half-days at the office, arriving home early to surprise Alphonse with bouquets of expensive flowers and other tokens of affection. In the twilight hours before dawn, Alphonse would find himself mounting his lover enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than to feel Rudolf inside of himself after a good night’s rest. Even with the increased exertion the intercourse provided, Rudolf was unable to quell his weight gain. Alphonse had managed to feed him more and more, excitedly cooking to show his happiness.

Al spent his days learning new recipes and keeping up the home. He’d been able to revive nearly every plant in the solarium. He learned new ways to remove stains from clothing items. He made sure every stray item had found a place in the large home. Tending to the home he’d built with Rudolf made him feel complete. He’d become confident of his position in the businessman’s life.

One afternoon in early March, Rudolf hurried through the doors of the townhouse, newspaper in hand. He knew Alphonse would be in the kitchen, practicing some new method for baking cakes or cookies or pies.

“You must read this,” Rudolf exclaimed, slightly winded. He’d rushed home from town to relay this news. He thrust the paper into Alphonse’s hands, ignoring the fact the young man was covered in flour.

Alphonse scanned the front page carefully, his eyes widening in disbelief. He took in the headline again. It read:

Badehaus Has Fallen. Deidrick Schroeder to Stand Trial.

The article wasn’t very forthcoming. It did not go into detail about how the events had occurred, just that Papa was being charged as an extortionist, a kidnapper, and a sex trafficker. Alphonse could hardly believe what he was reading. He thought of Alvin and Dorian and the other sons. What had happened to them? Where would they go? He wanted to find Alvin, but he had no idea where to even begin looking.

“This deserves celebration,” Alphonse said finally, setting the newspaper on the countertop.

“You act as if you need a reason to overfeed me.”

“True, I don’t need a reason, but it’s nice to have one.” Alphonse smiled softly at Rudolf, who wondered how the former bathhouse worker was taking the news.

The fall of the bathhouse stayed on Alphonse’s mind. After the initial news broke, he asked Rudolf to bring home the newspaper everyday so he could check for updates. There’d only been a few. Papa’s trial wouldn’t be until the fall, allowing the prosecution to build the strongest case possible. It would be when all the wealthiest families in town would return from their summer estates in the country. Alphonse wondered if Rudolf had a summer estate and if they’d spend the warmer months away from the town.

Alphonse had been to the tailor’s nearly two months ago to pick up their order. He would try on his suit almost daily while Rudolf was at the office, just for a few moments. In those five minutes, he’d feel worthy of his current place in life, like he truly belonged with Rudolf Blauvelt.

The time had finally come and putting on his suit was no longer a rehearsal. One Saturday evening in April, both Alphonse and Rudolf dressed for the opera. Alphonse stood transfixed by his image in a hallway mirror, like he hadn’t looked at himself in this very suit for weeks. He had a western style tie made of satin fabric that matched the navy suit. Rudolf had even gotten him a stylish pair of leather shoes. He couldn’t believe it. It seemed almost surreal.

As happy as Alphonse was, Rudolf was displeased. Even having asked the tailor to construct his garments with a few forgiving inches, his suit for the evening was not fitting the way he’d like. His pants could barely do up. He’d have to forgo the vest. He’d have to leave his jacket open. He sighed deeply and exited the bedroom.

“Are you ready Al?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alphonse responded, still enraptured by his image in the mirror, his stomach in knots. Rudolf grabbed his hand, gaining Al’s full attention. “Oh Rudy, you look very dashing.”

Rudolf’s face reddened, glancing over at their images in the hallway mirror. How could Alphonse be happy with a man like him? Al’s hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his face clearly displayed without his hair to distract from its magnificence. His suit fit perfectly. His suit didn’t look nearly ready to burst at the seams.

“You could have any man or woman you wanted,” Rudolf said, still holding Alphonse’s hand. “I may not be your best option.”

“You are truly the only man I want to be with for the rest of my life,” Alphonse said seriously.

“You speak honestly?” Rudolf asked, struggling to meet Alphonse’s gaze.

“I’d never lie to you,” Al replied. “I love you, Rudolf.”

Rudolf brought Alphonse’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Hearing those words from Alphonse was nearly enough to bring him to tears.

“I love you,” the businessman replied.

In that moment, they both wanted nothing more than to get undressed and spend the night in bed together, but they made their way out of the townhome and to the opera house. Once they arrived, the pair was surrounded by Rudolf’s associates. They conversed loudly in the lobby, laughing and slapping shoulders. Alphonse stood silently by the businessman’s side, wishing he were able to grab onto Rudolf’s supportive arm.

One of the men spoke to Rudolf in a language Alphonse didn’t understand.

“The boy, are you willing to lend him out for the evening?” Rudolf had been disinterested in the conversation before, but now Alphonse could tell he’d been offended by what the man had said. Alphonse was almost certain they’d said something referring to him.

“No, I am not.” Rudolf grabbed Alphonse by the arm and stormed off to his box in the theater.

“That man thought I was your whore, didn’t he?” Alphonse asked. It was dark, but Rudolf could hear the tears in Alphonse’s voice.

“Alphonse, you are not a whore,” Rudolf said, his voice low and deep. “I’ve never once thought of you that way, even when you lived in the bathhouse.”

They were silent, the murmur of the theatergoers building as everyone found their way to their seats. Rudolf knew their love would never be recognized by the church or state. People would choose to see their relationship in a way that didn’t make them uncomfortable. Alphonse would be seen as a ward. A relative. A servant. An assistant. Never what Rudolf truly considered him, his partner.

“If possible, we’d be married by now,” Rudolf said, expressing something he’d only been able to fantasize about.

“Really?” Alphonse asked. As much as he loved Rudolf, he feared that one day he’d grow tired of their homosexual dalliance and find a wife.

“Yes, really. Even if we can’t express it as we’d like.”

“That’s very romantic,” Alphonse replied, his heart full. “Did you read that in one of your novels?”

“Honestly, it’s as if we already are married,” Rudolf said, laughing gently. “We have a partnership of our own. You cook and clean and you take care of our home. You take care of me. We give to each other.”

“Yes, we do.”

The opera began and Alphonse felt more at ease. If the world was unable to see the value in their relationship, he had to remember that what he and Rudolf thought was most important. They sat back in their seats and listened as men and women gave their all on stage. It was an exciting experience for Alphonse, who would look in Rudolf’s direction every few minutes to see if he too was enjoying this as much as he was.

During intermission Alphonse made his way to the restroom. After finishing, the restroom attendant spoke directly to him.

“Alphonse!” the attendant exclaimed. “How’re you?”

Alphonse looked into the face of Alvin Baum. The Two Al’s were together again. Without words, they embraced one another.

“When did you—? How did you—? Are you—?” Alphonse had so many questions. He didn’t know which one to ask first.

That was when Alvin revealed the information he’d been privy to as a resident of the bathhouse. Papa had arranged for a new boy to take Dorian’s bedroom, moving Dorian into Alphonse’s old room. Dorian and his best client, the lawyer Burgess Pfeiffer, were much closer than many knew. The incident was just the push Dorian needed to leave the bathhouse for good. He and Pfeiffer leaked documents from Papa’s files, as well as written testimonies from a number of the sons and their families. Dorian and Burgess Pfeiffer had not been seen since, allegedly fleeing to a neighboring country. Alphonse couldn’t believe it. This story was more dramatic than the opera.

“That’s wonderful!” Alphonse said in awe. They exchanged addresses and he invited Alvin to come around for luncheon the next week.

“I can’t wait to see where you’re living these days,” Alvin said, taking in Alphonse’s expensive outfit once more.

“I’m very fortunate,” Alphonse replied, smiling at the thought of Rudolf.

The lights flickered, signaling the second act was about to begin. They embraced one another once more and Alphonse made his way back to where Rudolf waited for him. The rest of the opera, Alphonse could hardly focus. He was happy for both Dorian and Alvin, but he felt even more intensely happy for himself. He’d found a great man and the place that had brought him years of pain was no more. They left the opera house in a hurry, not wanting to be trapped in another round of dull conversation.

Once they arrived back at the townhouse, Alphonse’s joy could be contained no longer. He’d had such an incredible evening, he felt as light as a feather. During the ride home, Alphonse relayed everything he’d learned from Alvin. He also asked to make sure it would be okay for Alvin to come to luncheon the next week. “Am I invited?” Rudolf had asked.

“You’d take the afternoon off to entertain with me?”

“Of course,” Rudy responded. “I’m glad you have someone you can talk to.”

Now, in the foyer, he spun around whimsically, humming the opera’s most memorable tune. Rudolf watched with intense amusement.

“You can’t just stand there,” Alphonse said, spinning over to where Rudolf stood watching him. “Let’s waltz.”

“Alphonse, no, really,” Rudolf protested. “I have two left feet.”

“I don’t care,” Alphonse sang, smiling widely. “I just want to dance with you.” He positioned his hand on Rudolf’s waist and draped the businessman’s right hand on his shoulder.

“There’s not any music playing.”

“I’ll hum something,” Alphonse said. “I’ll lead this time.”

Rudolf hadn’t lied about having two left feet, but it didn’t detract from how much fun Alphonse was having. “Dum dum dum dum,” Alphonse hummed to the beat of a four count.

Even though under other circumstances he’d be mortified, Rudolf released his inhibitions and gave himself to the moment. This was actually quite lovely, a memory he’d cherish for many years to come. Alphonse pressed himself against the businessman, enjoying the feel of his slim body against Rudolf’s substantial belly.

They slowed after a few minutes of this exercise. Alphonse looked up into the face of the businessman. His face was so handsome, his strong jawline slightly hidden by a double chin.

“I want to kiss you,” Rudolf whispered gently. “I want to fuck you.”

Alphonse smiled, wanting nothing more than to be with Rudolf in this way as often as possible. The larger man grabbed Alphonse, kissing him as they moved over to the chesterfield sofa in the living room. Alphonse kicked off his shoes and sat on the cushions as Rudolf stood. Al unbuttoned the businessman’s pants. With the pressure of the latch no longer pressing against Rudolf’s meaty belly, it pushed forward freely.

Slightly embarrassed by his ever-growing paunch, his face reddened. “God, Rudolf. I love how sturdy you are,” Alphonse said, looking up at Rudolf’s face. “It makes me want you even more. I adore a man who likes my cooking.”

Rudolf smiled bashfully, placing his hand on the roundest part of his stomach. Alphonse was incredibly hard. He pushed Rudy’s dress shirt up and kissed the top of his belly, working his way down, nestling his nose for a moment in Rudolf’s dark pubic hair, breathing in his scent voraciously.

It was then, after months, Alphonse finally understood Dorian’s secret.

Alphonse pulled Rudolf’s cock from the confines of his undergarments and marveled at its length and thickness. Al licked the shaft before taking the head in his mouth. He held Rudolf’s balls in his hand, gently massaging them. The sensation of Alphonse’s mouth around his stiff penis caused Rudy’s hips to buck slightly. He held onto Alphonse’s hair gently. After weeks of lovemaking, Rudolf was shocked to realize there were still sexual acts to be discovered.

Alphonse stopped teasing Rudolf’s penis and sat up. He went to unbutton his pants when Rudolf simply tore them open. “I’ll buy you a hundred new suits.”

He tore open the jacket and the shirt as well, the buttons scattering across the sofa and hardwood flooring.

Rudolf’s generously proportioned member was slick with pre-cum and Alphonse’s spit. Alphonse rested his forearms on the side of the couch, his knees on the cushions. Rudolf climbed up behind him, the chesterfield creaking slightly. Alphonse looked back at him, his own penis leaking pre-cum. Al’s asshole was already slightly moist in anticipation of Rudolf entering him. The businessman placed the head of his cock near Al’s eager hole. Rudolf’s stomach lightly rubbed against the top of Alphonse’s firm, round butt. “Are you ready, Alphonse?” he asked, unable to wait any longer.

“Yes,” Alphonse said, exhaling in anticipation. Rudolf entered Alphonse slowly, moving his hips only slightly, not wanting to push Alphonse too quickly. “Please Rudolf—more—harder—!” Alphonse moaned. Rudolf grunted as he pushed a bit more forcefully. They were breathing rhythmically, perfectly in sync with one another. Alphonse couldn’t suspend orgasm any longer. He came all over the chesterfield. Rudolf went on for a few more moments before he finished as well. They sat back on the sofa, in a state of utter bliss.

“I love you,” Rudolf said, exhaling slowly, his body covered in a slight layer of perspiration.

“I love you too,” Alphonse said, smiling. He grabbed one of the buttons from his cream-colored dress shirt that was now ruined. “I really loved that suit as well.” Rudolf laughed loudly, incredibly tickled by Alphonse’s comment.

They gathered their clothing and went up to bed. They spent the majority of Sunday tangled together in the linens, only getting up to eat the meals Alphonse hastily prepared so that they could lay in bed once more as soon as possible.

There were many more events and outings that the couple attended together. And Rudolf had kept his word, making sure to purchase Alphonse the most luxurious clothing items. A year after they met, which was also Alphonse’s twentieth birthday, Rudolf presented the young man with a simple gold band, which matched one he’d purchased for himself. Even if it was only official to the two of them, they vowed to love each other for the rest of their lives, through thick and thin.

It was a promise they’d upheld with extreme veneration.

History books would say they were close friends, but Rudolph Blauvelt and Alphonse Jung were much closer than that. They were lovers. Partners. Husbands.

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals. 

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer. 

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression. 

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be. 

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity. 

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations. 

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing. 

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life. 

George—Kyle Donnelly 

Candy—Hallie James 

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio 

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston 

Slim—Raul Mota 

Crooks—Richard Smith 

Carlson—John Waterson 

The Boss—Ken Ortega 

Whit—Holden Sanders 

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD 

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).  

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical. 

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray. 

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip. 

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”) 

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history? 

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping. 

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.  

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?” 

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win. 

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extracurricular activities, why shouldn’t he? 

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.” 

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?  

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”  

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.” 

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him. 

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.  

I was getting ahead of myself. 

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.” 

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago. 

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.” 

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business. 

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful. 

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs. 

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.  

Softball—I sucked.  

Badminton—I sucked.  

Basketball—I sucked.  

Volleyball—I sucked. 

Kickball—I sucked. 

Floor Hockey—I sucked. 

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.  

I was screwed, that was all I had.  

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing. 

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.  

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked. 

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly. 

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his. 

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.  

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.  

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.” 

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym. 

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.  

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.  

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger. 

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered. 

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering. 

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage. 

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?” 

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.” 

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite. 

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly. 

I wrote a simple message. It read: 

Hey Greg, 

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.  

I signed it with just my first name, Holden. 

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. 

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me. 

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo. 

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return. 

He ate the Twix during class. 

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.  

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday. 

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.” 

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was. 

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him. 

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club. 

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection. 

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.” 

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”. 

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.” 

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face. 

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”  

“Very funny, Gregory.” 

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?” 

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” 

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven. 

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.  

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth. 

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him. 

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements. 

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.” 

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most. 

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year. 

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat. 

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family. 

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.” 

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva. 

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.  

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone,” he barked. 

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me. 

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.  

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.  

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.  

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily. 

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.  

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose. 

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.  

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.  

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.  

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.” 

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches. 

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.” 

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly. 

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.” 

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly. 

“One, The Princess and the Frog.” 

“The Disney movie?” 

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.” 

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.” 

“Never.” 

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?” 

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.” 

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning. 

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.” 

“Sorry Holden.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness. 

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.” 

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?” 

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.” 

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.” 

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever. 

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?” 

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said. 

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed. 

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak. 

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.” 

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang. 

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable. 

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week. 

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing. 

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.” 

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?” 

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.” 

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?” 

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches. 

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck. 

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked. 

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.” 

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.” 

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean. 

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.” 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” 

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.” 

“I wish we could trade.” 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.” 

“What’s a Tony?” 

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house. 

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.  

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs. 

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?” 

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”  

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.” 

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life. 

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. 

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides. 

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.  

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy. 

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.  

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.  

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.” 

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.” 

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.” 

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.” 

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth. 

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session. 

“Greg must not like him very much.” 

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.” 

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile. 

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic. 

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing. 

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.” 

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.” 

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.” 

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.” 

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.” 

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt. 

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension. 

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.” 

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable. 

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show. 

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner. 

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. 

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him. 

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.  

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit. 

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger. 

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.  

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened. 

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything. 

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again. 

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me. 

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true. 

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.  

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know. 

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.” 

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down. 

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating. 

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.” 

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men. 

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.” 

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.” 

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.” 

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all. 

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny. 

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there. 

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.  

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.” 

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage. 

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity. 

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!” 

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked. 

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.” 

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten. 

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said. 

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!” 

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.” 

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well. 

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men. 

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.  

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on. 

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted. 

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques. 

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.  

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating. 

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks. 

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”  

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.” 

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.” 

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move. 

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction. 

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement. 

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed. 

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him. 

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.” 

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass. 

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.  

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.” 

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.” 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.” 

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile. 

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction. 

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction. 

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.  

“All good,” I said. 

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard. 

“My secret fort,” I replied. 

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing. 

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit. 

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.” 

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person. 

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another. 

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me. 

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.” 

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now. 

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head. 

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.” 

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was. 

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten. 

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.  

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!” 

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!” 

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck. 

“Text me when you get home,” I said. 

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy. 

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then. 

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite. 

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it. 

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George. 

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle. 

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.  

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself. 

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said. 

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before. 

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it. 

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked. 

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked. 

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.  

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.  

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment. 

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy. 

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm. 

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.” 

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more. 

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.  

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.  

“We most definitely do.”  

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night. 

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle. 

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together. 

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him. 

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star. 

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

Belonging

His name was Amos Stanton, and we’d met online. He was twenty-nine years old, eight years my senior, and we had been corresponding with one another since I was nineteen. He’d wanted to meet up with me on multiple occasions, offering to arrange everything to make it happen, but in the end I always chickened out. In all honesty, I was surprised he put up with me and my apprehension considering he seemed well-off and very honest about his intentions. I always had the feeling that he thought I was a flake who couldn’t truly commit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I thought about him constantly, but I had my reasons for being so hesitant to meet him in person. We’d had hundreds of phone calls over the years, but only a handful of video chatting sessions. Aside from a couple of photographs, I hadn’t even really seen his body. I sent him loads of pictures, but he was a more reserved sort of guy. I only had a foggy idea of what to expect from an actual meet-up. I guess it was a fear of ruining something I’d been building up in my mind for years. What if he’d been dishonest? I wouldn’t be able to continue our relationship if he had lied to me.

I hadn’t gone off to college. I worked a low paying retail job in the mall and still lived at home. My parents were furious I didn’t accept the wrestling scholarship I had been offered from our state school. Both of my older brothers had gone off to college and sometimes I regretted not going as well, at least to get away from my parents. But I knew deep down I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I was never much for education.

Amos had finally convinced me to come and live with him. We’d been talking about an argument I’d had with my parents. They kept telling me I was “wasting my life” and that I “couldn’t live with them forever.” I was barely twenty-one, the candles on my birthday cake still smoking. I sure as hell didn’t want to live with them much longer. Amos listened as I complained, letting me know I’d be okay, and things would get better with my parents. “I just don’t wanna be here,” I’d said, not truly expecting him to provide me with a solution.

“Then come live with me,” he’d replied. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that was that.

He owned a home in a larger city, and he told me I was more than welcome to stay for as long as I liked. I knew it was crazy and I knew things could turn out terribly, but I also knew—deep down—that this was what I needed in my life to be happy. I knew that Amos would give me what I’d always wanted for myself.

I wanted to be big.

Amos would talk to me about how strong he could make me, about how big I’d get, about how I was going to be his devoted ex-jock. I would get hard just thinking about it and masturbate for hours. I still lifted hard, even after being out of high school for three years, but I wasn’t getting any size. My body was that of a wrestler and I still found it hard to eat a lot of food. I was barely 160 pounds on my 5’8” frame. I had ended high school at 145 pounds, so I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough.

A few days after that conversation with Amos, I sat my parents down and told them about how I was going to live with a buddy from high school, that a job training program opened up near his home, and that I’d try to visit during the holidays. It was late April at this point. My father told me it was the right thing to do as a man and gave me a hundred dollars to get started in the world. I loved my parents but being at home wasn’t going to make me happy.

The next thing I knew I was on a bus, the ride only about two hours. I had arranged everything with Amos, and he told me he’d be there to greet me. I was nervous. I kind of wanted to turn around and go back home, but at this point I had to follow through. I wasn’t going to flake out this time. I had to think positively and believe everything was going to work out.

My bus pulled into the terminal, and after grabbing my two duffel bags, I made my way to the waiting area. I thought about if he didn’t show. I would look like a complete idiot with nowhere to go. I couldn’t survive alone in the city with only my measly savings account and the hundred bucks from my mom and dad.

I knew what he looked like from his pictures and our handful of video chats, but it was still hard trying to find him in the crowd of people. “Russell,” I heard a voice call. I scanned the crowd again. “Hey there.” There he stood, in the flesh. Amos. I was more than excited. I felt like a little kid with a schoolyard crush. I dropped my bags and went in to hug him. He was tall and thinly muscled. Now this was living. “Well fuck,” he said. “You’re cute.”

I laughed, my face hot with embarrassment. I had to remember he was an older guy and that I had to act more maturely. “It’s, uh, really nice to finally meet you,” I said, trying my best to contain my enthusiasm.

“Likewise,” he said with a grin. He motioned towards the exit. “My car’s this way. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bags and followed behind him like a lost puppy. 

He was maybe about 6’3” and took long strides. I walked quickly to keep up. He wore a pair of stylish charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt. His ass looked great, very firm and round. I watched it shift as I walked along behind him. He looked younger than he actually was, definitely not like he was almost thirty.

I liked that he was taller than I was. I was the tallest one in my entire family, so it was a well embraced change of pace. I was a black guy, with skin the color of milk chocolate. Amos was sort of pale, but still looked healthy. He didn’t have any facial hair, but I had a slight beard.

I could already tell we were going to make a great pair.

We made it to his home, and it was not what I had imagined. It was actually much larger than I had anticipated. We walked up a few stone steps to his front door and he let me inside. It was very modern and spacious. “Your house is amazing,” I said. He laughed.

“Yeah, I do pretty all right for myself.” He took my bags from me and directed me to follow him. We walked down a hallway, stopping outside of a closed door. He told me to go on in and I obeyed. I entered a bedroom that was small, but nicer than the room I had at home. “This is your personal room, so feel free to arrange things however you like.” I had thought I would be staying with him in his bedroom, but I guess we weren’t much of a couple. “How about I show you the rest of the house?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I said.

After that, he gave me the grand tour. He showed me the kitchen and told me I could eat anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. He added that he didn’t think I’d ever be that in need of a snack. I got hard thinking about him filling me with food, making sure I was never hungry. I wanted it so badly, and I was finally going to get it.

He continued with the tour, taking me through the back door. There was a pool in his yard and a tall fence that obscured his property from the neighbors. “You’ve even got a pool,” I said, majorly impressed.

“Perfect for skinny dipping,” he said. I laughed, getting even more erect. His whole aura was like an aphrodisiac. We went back into the house, where he showed me the master bathroom, which was ridiculously grandiose. The tub was huge. There was even a separate shower that had room for at least three people. 

“Come on,” he said. “This is somewhere you’ll really love.” I followed him down some stairs to the basement, which had the laundry room, but also a home gym. He had a substantial amount of equipment.

“This is amazing,” I told him. I walked over to a rack of weights, taking in their quality. Everything was in pristine condition.

“Hope you’re ready to use those,” he said with a wink. Amos was everything I had imagined and more. I was excited to get big for him. I wanted to make him happy. Having gotten to know him online for nearly three years made me all the more ready to get to know him in person. I wanted to do whatever he asked of me, to submit to whatever he asked, and to grow. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he said. I followed him back upstairs to the kitchen and he pulled out a large salad from the refrigerator. He placed it in front of me, along with three types of salad dressing. “I didn't know what type you liked,” he said. “I’m going to heat up this tray of lasagna I made, so you just eat that while you wait, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, picking up the ranch dressing and a fork. He chuckled lightly. He busied himself reheating the lasagna and I greedily shoved the leafy greens into my mouth. He placed a basket of warm rolls next to me. He’d heated them up after getting the lasagna situated in the oven. I took one and bit into its soft, buttery goodness.

He poured me a glass of milk, which didn’t taste like 2%. It was kind of sweet. He sat across from me at the table. The lasagna had another fifteen minutes in the oven. “It’s really good so far,” I said through a mouthful of food. “I’m excited for the lasagna.”

“Well, you have to eat it all,” he said. “I’m looking to be impressed.” I swallowed more of the salad, feeling a little full already.

“All of it?” I inquired. He laughed. He was really attractive, and his laugh was no different. He was thin, but his body had an obvious muscularity. He had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to reveal well-toned forearms. I was sure he used his home gym regularly. There was a treadmill down there and I didn’t think it was for me.

“I’m trying to be hospitable,” he said, smiling playfully. He was teasing me. “You wouldn’t want to offend me, would you?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“That’s what I thought.”

A little after that, he pulled the lasagna from the oven, allowing it to cool as I finished the salad, which had been in a large serving bowl. He cut a piece for himself and put it on a plate. He placed the rest of the dish in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to impress him, so I dove into the lasagna with gusto. I made it halfway through before I thought I was going to pass out.

He kept refilling my glass of milk, having finished his portion a while ago. He sat across from me at the table and watched me silently. “I-I don’t think I can finish it,” I said breathlessly.

“I think you can,” he said. “You don’t want to be rude, right?”

“Yeah, right. I-I guess—I’ll keep eating.” He had a quality that made me want to be better. I didn’t want to let him down. I made it through another ten forkfuls. He stood up and walked to my side of the table.

“You’re going to eat that,” he said, standing right behind me. I could feel his breath on my neck as he spoke. His voice was firm and authoritative, but also managed to be supportive. It was driving me wild and even though my stomach was in pain, I had an even more painful erection. “You know you want to get big. You’ve got to eat up if you want to get bigger.” 

He was right. I had to finish this. I leaned over the dish and began to shovel the rest of the pasta into my mouth, sauce covering my cheeks. This went on for a couple more minutes before I was finished.

Maybe it was the athlete in me, but I even took the last roll and cleaned the dish before downing the rest of my milk. I couldn’t believe I’d eaten like that. After all of that eating I was ready to sleep. He let me clean up and go to bed, and I was grateful for it.

The next morning, I made my way to the kitchen and found a dozen donuts waiting for me. There was an assortment of flavors, and I was enjoying being able to sample each one. I couldn’t believe I could eat again after last night, but I was actually hungry. I also helped myself to some more milk.

I found a note on the refrigerator that said the donuts were pre-breakfast. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but I assumed Amos would have me eating something else soon. I was excited at the idea of eating so much. When I lived at home I tried to eat a lot, but I wasn’t able to eat as much as this—not nearly as much as this.

A little while later I heard someone enter through the front door. It was Amos and he had three bags of fast food. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen. “This is for you—ah, good, you got the donuts.”

“They were really good, thanks,” I said. He smiled at me, and I felt my stomach flutter. It was a mixture of attraction to him and anticipation of what else he’d expect me to fit in there. I couldn’t believe how ordinary my life had been up until this point.

“Before you get started on breakfast, there are some things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, that’s fine, anything.”

“All right,” he said. He had me come into the living room and I sat on the sofa. “There are some things I need from you, things that’ll make me happy and hopefully you’ll like them too.”

“Okay,” I said. I was listening intently, but I was also thinking about what else he had gotten me for breakfast. I could smell the grease. I turned my attention back to Amos.

“When you’re in the house I want you to wear nothing but underwear, be it briefs or jockstraps. I want to be able to look at you.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said. He laughed. I really was okay with that. He was making me horny, and it was only because he was being so controlling. I knew that was something I was looking for, but damn, it was arousing in action.

“I need you to follow a workout schedule and I need you to eat everything I tell you too.” He paused for a moment, in what I was assuming was an attempt to choose the phrasing of his next statement. “You can only cum when I let you. No masturbating.” I nodded in agreement. That was going to be way more difficult than the underwear thing. “I also want to record your stats every month because, honestly, I think it’s really erotic.” I stood up and looked at him seriously. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and pulled off my pajama bottoms. I stood in a pair of white low-rise briefs. “Fuck kid, can you be any more adorable.”

After we discussed the guidelines he wanted me to follow, I ate my actual breakfast. I had six sausage biscuits and eight hash browns. I had a small plate full of ketchup next to me, which helped make things go down easier. I was dipping the hash browns and biscuits in a precise pattern, lubricating them with the sweet tomatoey goodness. I was eating so fast I didn’t notice I was getting full until I’d eaten around four of the sandwiches, but Amos made sure I finished them all. He also had me drink a fuck ton of his special milk as well.

“In the future, we’ll do this when your tank is empty,” Amos said, leading me back into the living room to take my stats. “I was just too excited to get you fed this morning.”

“I’m so full,” I said, rubbing the side of my bloated stomach.

He just smiled, knowing he was the reason I could barely catch my breath. He had me step on a scale, and I weighed in at 164 pounds. I stood in my underwear as he measured me, my stomach rounded out from all the food I had eaten. His touching me all over had my penis stiffening. “Somebody’s excited,” he said laughing.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said with a toothy grin.

“Remember, we’ve got to hold off on that,” he reminded me, looking up from taking my measurements. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He stood up and looked down at me. He observed me intently for a moment, his eyes a beautiful hazel color with intense flecks of green. His nose was thin, but large. It was complemented by his fleshy lips and strong jawline.

His hand found its way to my bulge. He grabbed onto it through my underwear. “Can I kiss you?” I asked. He smiled at me before leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to do so much more with him. I wanted to let him fill me up from behind just as much as he had been filling me up with food. I felt like I was ready to explode. He bit my lower lip softly and then slowly stopped kissing me.

“Well, let’s get you started with that workout.” He removed his hand from my crotch, and I heard myself whimper. I’d never made that sound before, but Amos had me whimpering. It excited me how badly I wanted him, how badly I wanted him to want me. I’d do whatever necessary to impress him, to make it impossible for him to resist the body he was going to build. I was going to be Amos’ monster. An absolute beast.

Fuck. My dick was already leaking as I made my way to my room to grab some socks and my gym shoes. We made our way to the basement, my dick still rock hard. He was also in his own workout gear. He explained to me that he’d be running and doing light weight training.

I was going to be doing more hardcore workouts and when things were too serious, he’d spot me. My boner lasted until about halfway through my workout, but once I really got into it, I barely remembered how horny I was. I had rarely ever pushed myself so hard. I couldn’t believe how sore I was after. It felt amazing and I was shocked that come lunch time I was famished. I felt ready to eat everything he had to throw at me.

Over those first two weeks I was falling hard for him. I was also incredibly excited for my upcoming monthly weigh-in. I had taken to getting up in the middle of the night to have a snack or two. I wanted him to be impressed with me, and I wanted results. I was finally realizing my dreams.

I could barely touch my penis without wanting to masturbate. I was very accustomed to freely jacking off whenever I felt the urge. When I was just messaging Amos online, I would find myself doing it two or three times a night. I found that while I was eating or lifting, the compulsion to masturbate was numbed. I wondered if Amos knew that’d happen.

My days consisted of pre-breakfast and then actual breakfast, a workout, lunch, another workout, dinner, and post-dinner. There were also my late-night snacks and whatever else I ate during the day. I was feeling so different and like a better version of myself. When my first weigh-in arrived, I was more than excited. I stood in a red jock that Amos had gotten me a little over a week ago. It cradled my junk in a way that made me more than aware that I hadn’t masturbated in a month.

He had me step onto the scale and I felt his eyes all over me. I knew Amos turned me on beyond belief, but it was nice in these moments to see that I made him just as horny. I wondered if he masturbated at all. “Shit, Russ, I thought you were looking big this month but not this big,” he said. “181 pounds.” I flexed my arms a little and he smiled.

“I did good, huh?” I asked, stepping off of the scale. He walked close to me and placed his warm hands on my waist. My stomach was no longer flat. I looked bloated at all times, but in actuality I was finally getting fatter. I felt stronger than ever, and the gainer shakes after my workouts were doing nothing but good things for my waistline.

“Your workouts are going well,” he said as his hands moved down my sides and towards my ass. “And I think I know where all that weight is going.” I felt my face heat up. “You must be doing extra squats to get this ass so big.” He grabbed my backside harder than I expected. I had been hard since I stepped on the scale, and I felt pre-cum spurt from the head of my dick.

He kissed me, and I felt my body relax in ecstasy. The smallest touches from Amos were enough to send me into a headspace that I had never experienced in my entire life. I longed to be close to him always. I still stayed in my own room, longing for the day he’d invite me into his own bed. Amos pulled away slowly. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

“You deserve something special,” he said. His face was as red as I’d ever seen it. Was he finally going to give me what I’d been dreaming of? I was still a virgin, only ever been fingered by some boy just as sexually immature as I was. We had both been on the wrestling team in high school. Last I heard, he was dating some girl he met at the community college in my parents' town. Amos walked towards the kitchen, and I took that as an indication to follow him. “Eat this.” He had brought out a beautiful pink box. It looked like it was from some super fancy bakery.

“I’ll eat it,” I said seriously. I opened the box and inside were six large cupcakes of varying flavors. He knew I loved a variety. I picked up one as we stood in the middle of the kitchen. I looked at him as I bit into the sweet treat.

“That’s chocolate vanilla swirl,” he said with a smirk. I laughed as I licked icing from my lips. It was a really delicious cupcake. He got on his knees as I was finishing the chocolate vanilla swirl cupcake.

“What—what’re you doing?” I asked.

“If you can talk right now, you should be eating,” he said. He pulled the jock to the ground and my dick bobbed freely for a moment. I started on the next cupcake. It had a lot of little red sprinkles. It was kind of spicy and very chocolaty. I shoved the rest of the treat into my open mouth, and he wrapped his lips around the head of my penis. I immediately felt pre-cum spurt into his mouth. I wasn’t going to last long. I started eating the rest of the cupcakes like a mad man. When I thought about the food, I wasn’t completely focused on the best blowjob of my existence. I didn’t want to cum too quickly.

Amos stopped sucking me off and began to lightly kiss my gut. I took another oversized bite of a cupcake, this one lemon flavored. I focused on the citrus, finishing it in another large bite. I felt so greedy eating like this and that was turning me on even more. I reached for the next one—red velvet. I looked down, and Amos looked up at me, his eyes unlike I’d seen them ever before. He loved this. He loved what he was doing to my body. He watched as I shoved a majority of the red velvet cupcake into my mouth. He moved his hand to my ass, squeezing one of my plump cheeks.

“Finish ‘em off, Russ,” Amos directed before bringing his mouth back towards my dick. He licked my shaft slowly, popping the head back in his mouth. I had to grab the next one, to prevent a premature eruption—s’mores. Graham cracker and marshmallow flooded my taste buds.

I hastily reached for the last cupcake. I bit into it, surprised by a substantial amount of banana pudding that was on the inside. This was a banana cream pie cupcake. I got some of the pudding on my fingers and I licked them quickly, swallowing the remaining morsels of the baked good. My moist hand found the side of my gut and I rubbed it gently. This was the biggest I’d ever been, but also the smallest I’d ever be again.

“I ate them all, sir,” I said breathlessly. He slowed, pulling his mouth away for a moment to take me in.

Without the eating to distract me, I felt it happening before I could angle my path of ejaculation away from him. I moaned loudly, my toes curling, as I shot my load in Amos’ direction. Some hit him on the chin and the rest covered the front of his lavender dress shirt. I felt it coming out of me for what felt like a whole minute. “I’m so sorry. It—it was an accident,” I said all flustered. He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. He stood shirtless in front of me, and I was immediately turned on again. Amos had a well-defined body, which was long and slightly hairy. His hair looked well-groomed, and I wanted to touch his chest and the hair on his stomach. His stomach reminded me of my wrestling days, when I actually had abs.

“Somebody got a little excited.” He laughed softly, and I felt myself smile. He wasn’t mad at me.

I couldn’t believe it, but I was suddenly very, very hungry.

That weigh-in was in May and we were now halfway through the month of June. The weather had gotten really hot, but I spent most of my time in the house. I only ever went outside to swim around in the pool. We hadn’t gone out in public, but I wasn’t too concerned. I was focusing on eating and lifting. I was feeling really big, the largest I had ever been in my life. My capacity had increased, and I was going through gainer shakes like there was no tomorrow. I probably had at least four or five every day.

Amos had taken a lot of time off to stay with me that first month and a half, but now he was working a lot more. He was a realtor and sold luxury homes. He had things delivered for me to eat around lunch time. I had eaten a lot of pizza and pastas. He’d bring me desserts in the pink boxes every other evening. He was a really sweet guy.

“Russell,” he started. “I want you to go out more. You don’t have to stay in the house all day.” I had always assumed that was what I was supposed to do.

“Oh—that’s cool,” I said. “But what would I do?”

“Go out to eat,” he said with a smirk. “I actually ordered you some summer clothes.” I had no clue he had done that. “But you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” Why would I not want to wear them? He went to retrieve them from his bedroom. There were a lot of shorts and tanks. There was also a pair of sweats that looked like they were made out of the material of a wrestling singlet. I was wearing a jockstrap, so I could easily put on an outfit.

I grabbed a pair of navy shorts and pulled them on. They were really tight. I would normally be much too bashful to wear something like this in public. My thighs looked huge in the shorts. I got them up over my ass, which was actually getting much bigger. Amos was right about me doing a lot of squats, but it was only because I knew he liked my butt. I could feel that the crack of my ass was not fully covered. I pulled on a tank top, which was white with thin blue horizontal stripes. For the first time in my life, I truly felt big. My bulge was a little obscene, but I was fully covered.

“Do you, uh like, this kind of outfit?” Amos asked, clearing his throat. “I could always get you something else—less revealing.”

“Do I look good in this?” I asked.

“Of course you do!” he exclaimed, his face reddening. I walked closer to him, feeling the most monstrous I’d ever felt, and wrapped my arms around him. He placed one of his hands on my head, the other on my ass. We stood that way for a long time. It was really nice, feeling his body against mine. “Let’s go out. Get your shoes on.”

I went to my room and put on socks and sneakers. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the door of my bedroom and stopped for a moment. I was becoming what I had always wanted. I flexed my arms for myself before my hands found their way to my gut. It was nice having so much size.

I turned to the side and saw how it stood out from my body. I was getting myself worked up. I lifted my tank up and saw how beefy my gut was. It made me want to eat. My pecs were large, but all the lifting I did couldn’t stop fat from accumulating there as well. My ass was always huge, and it had gotten a great deal beefier in the past two months. I finished up with my self-appraisal and went to meet Amos.

We drove in his car and ended up at a public park. I hadn’t been in a large crowd in some time, and it made me a little anxious. I suddenly didn’t feel that big, and I even felt naked in my outfit. I wanted really badly to grab his hand, but I fought the urge.

There were booths and food trucks lined up and down the sidewalk offering a variety of different foods. It was barely six o’clock. He patted me on the stomach and smiled. “I’ve got cash,” he said. “Let’s try lots of stuff.”

We walked from booth to booth getting different foods. He’d buy a large sample and nibble off of it before allowing me to demolish the rest. I was his human garbage disposal. We had Greek food and Mexican. I tried something called a pierogi and had a plateful of BBQ. There was a booth full of soul food that reminded me of home, and I had a great deal of that.

He was really fun to be around. He liked to people watch and would make really funny comments. There was this guy who was on roller blades in a Statue of Liberty costume that we watched for a while. “I bet he just has a blast,” Amos said with a chuckle. “Not a care in the world. Living for liberty and freedom, skating through the park annoying soccer moms and joggers alike.”

“He’s serving his country,” I added. “A true American hero.” He laughed for a while at that one, and it made me feel good. After that we went to get ice cream. I was already painfully full but pushing past that point made me feel good. On our way to the ice cream stall, I rubbed my belly mindlessly. A woman looked at me a little disgustedly and then away quickly. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. “She must be so jealous of me. I’m with the hottest guy in the whole park.”

“Ha, yeah,” I replied, feeling a little weird.

“Let’s get that ice cream,” he said gently. He ordered me a huge cone and it was actually pretty tasty. His was different than mine and he offered to let me taste his as well. He held the ice cream up to my face and I took a lick. I could see he was turned on and so I ate a little more. I had already finished mine, being the fat boy that I was. Before he knew what was up, I had almost completely slurped down most of his dessert. “Do—do you want the rest?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I took the cone from him. I finished it quickly.

“Man,” he started. “I feel so indecent getting a boner in a public park.” Amos rarely talked like this, and it was getting me going. We walked slowly next to one another. He leaned closer into me before he spoke again. “And watching that huge bubble butt of yours shifting back and forth in those little shorts makes me want to lick you all over.”

I was getting an erection, and in these shorts that would be a problem. I tried hard to stay calm, but I was semi-erect. “Amos, don’t say that. I–I get too excited.”

“I know how you get,” he said. “You’re horny all the time and the fact you’re making so much progress turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” He grabbed a handful of my ass, and my penis was no longer just semi-erect. I wanted him to fuck me. “You’re becoming this big strong bull, but you know I’m still the one taking care of you.” I once again whimpered like a dog, a sound I found myself making much more frequently. I was feeling so submissive, and I wanted Amos to dominate me.

“Amos, I–I like that you take care of me.” He removed his hand from my butt.

“I do a good job, don’t I?” he asked. “And I always will, because you’re mine.” I nodded quickly. A man who had been walking near us cleared his throat theatrically. We ignored him and made our way back to Amos’ car. On the way home he bought me two double cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a milkshake.

I ate everything. 

Sometime in July I asked him what I could do that’d turn him on even more. He was pretty bashful about telling me at first, but I pulled it out of him. He was a fan of men that were intimidating but he could still be dominant over. So, I ended up getting some piercings and he wondered if I’d get my hair cut a certain way.

It all happened in one day, and at first, I was a little nervous. I got my nipples pierced first, and then my ears. I also got a mohawk fade. My beard had gotten much thicker as well. I was really digging the new me.

I’d be the first one to admit that I did look a great deal more intimidating. He couldn’t wait for the nipple piercings to heal. I had the feeling Amos was getting more and more amped up to actually fuck me.

By August I weighed over 200 pounds for the first time in my life. Amos was more than happy when the scale told him I was 219 pounds. I had taken to eating even more than ever before and Amos could barely believe it. I felt unstoppable. I was a beast. His beast.

“My family wants to meet you,” Amos said dryly one afternoon in mid-August. I never really considered the fact that Amos could even have a family. He seemed so independent that I imagined he was one day put on the earth as an adult. “They want me to host the Labor Day party this year, because of the pool.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’d be too nervous.” I drank from a shake made from protein powder, ice cream, and whole milk. “What if they don’t like me?”

“You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I doubt they’d dislike you.”

“But—but, what about how—”

“How you look?” he asked. I nodded. “You look fucking spectacular. I’m not ashamed of you in any way. I actually want to show you off every chance I get, so everyone knows I’m with such a stud.”

“It’s your family, Amos. They’re more important than some strangers on the street.”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he started, sounding even more serious than before. It’s like he had some sort of power in which he could make his voice soothing yet commanding. “I live my life for myself. You and me, we’re a package deal. They’ll treat you with respect or they can leave. Simple as that. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, the front of my jock bulging as my dick hardened. I was nervous and excited at the same time. Amos saw me as something other than some guy he was fooling around with. He respected me enough to introduce me to his family as his boyfriend. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Good boy,” he said, patting me on the tummy. “I guess we’ve got a party to plan.”

Leading up to Labor Day we found lots of fun things for the party. It wouldn’t be a lot of people, but Amos planned an incredibly large menu. He described all the things that would be prepared and how much he expected me to eat.

We went to shop for swimsuits, and even though I already had one or normally swam naked, he insisted I get another one. I ended up getting a lime green pair of classic cut trunks. I felt like they would be too revealing for a family function, but he told me they were perfectly fine.

My ass was large and firm, and even with the XL swimwear I was not fully covered. It was the curse of having such a large lower body. I felt like my bulge was a little much, but I did feel really attractive. My pecs rounded out into large mounds of muscle and fat. My gut was usually always full of food as I took my job as his greedy man-beast very seriously. That morning was the start of September and at my weigh-in I had made it to nearly 230 pounds. I hardly recognized myself anymore, but I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger, stronger, and fatter—to be the ideal man of Amos, as well as myself.

We bought my suit as well as a very nice pair of orange trunks for Amos that went halfway up his muscular thighs. We made our way home to have dinner, and with the events of the day I wanted to outgrow my new swimsuit.

The night before his family would be coming over, he presented to me a chain collar and a lock. “It’s waterproof,” he said with a shy smile and red cheeks. “If you’d be willing, I’d like for you to wear this.”

I took it from him and draped it around my neck. The chain was thick and slightly cold. It felt heavy, but I liked the weight of it. I clicked it in place and grabbed the lock for a moment. He was turning me into a total badass. “I feel extra cool,” I said.

“I have the key,” he said. He pulled a much thinner chain from under his dress shirt, and I saw that on the end of it was a small key to the lock around my neck. “You’re mine, you badass.” We smiled at one another and then I had two thick gainer shakes.

I had to look my best for the party.

The next day he woke up early to fire up the grill. He would be making chicken wings, brats, burgers, and ribs. I was busy in the kitchen slicing fruit and making other side dishes. He wanted me to make macaroni and cheese when I told him how much butter and cheese my mother’s recipe required. “Oh, you need some of that,” he said. “I should get you to eat some of that every week. Then you’d really get some meat on those bones.”

His family would arrive at about noon. I was nervous, sure, but also kind of excited. Amos was an incredible guy, so his family had to be a good one. I wore my lime green trunks and a yellow tank. I was very vibrant.

Everything was ready at around eleven-thirty. We busied ourselves setting things up and his family arrived right on time. That seemed like a quality all of the Stanton’s possessed. His parents, Freddie and Kathy, were very nice, and tall. His mom was a little taller than I was and Freddie had to be at least 6’4” because he was taller than Amos. Amos had two younger brothers as well. The middle brother looked just like Amos and had a wife of his own. His name was Harris, and the youngest brother was named Bud. He was only two years younger than I was.

“Amos, so good to see you,” said Julia, the wife of Harris. “And it’s nice to meet you too, Russell.” I was surprised she already knew my name. I returned the sentiment before Amos interjected.

“The food is ready so let’s eat while it’s hot.” We all shuffled out to the patio and sat. The conversation was good, but Bud didn’t talk much. He seemed distant, but I took it as how I had been when I was still at home.

I ate a brat in three bites and before I could finish chewing another found its way to my plate. I had mac and cheese piled high on my plate along with other sides. Everyone had finished eating yet I was going strong. The conversations continued and things were going great.

Sitting in the patio chair and shoveling food into my mouth I felt the tank straining against my gut. I could even feel my gut on my lap. I loved how I felt. I loved that I was the biggest guy at the party. When everyone else was preoccupied Amos gave me a pat on the stomach.

“I think they really like you,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed my belly slowly. “But I wish they’d fucking leave so I could feed my boyfriend in peace.” I was semi-erect and tried to reign it in.

I thought about how when I was eating, I wasn’t as horny. “I’m gonna get the ice cream sandwiches,” I said. “Maybe your family will want some.” I made my way into the kitchen when I noticed Bud and Kathy talking on the sofa. They hadn’t noticed me entering.

“Mom, he’s like some beast,” Bud said. “Like, he wears chains and stuff. Who does that?”

“He’s only two years older than you, Bud,” she replied. “He also seems really sweet.”

“He’s only twenty-one? How?” Bud questioned in awe. “He could probably break Amos in half if he wanted. I bet they’re into some freaky shit.”

“Oh, stop it, Bud. Don’t swear and don’t talk about your brother and his boyfriend having sex.” I was slightly taken aback. I hadn’t considered the idea that Bud was so quiet because he didn’t care for me. I cleared my throat loudly and offered them some ice cream sandwiches.

They both looked surprised to see me and Mrs. Stanton was noticeably embarrassed.

“No,” Bud said quickly, surprisingly more flustered than his mom. “That’s okay.” I began to retreat back to the patio before he stopped me.

“All right,” I said, box of ice cream sandwiches in hand.

“Actually, wait,” Bud called, standing.

“What’s up?” I asked. He’d made his way over to me and he stood looking down at me slightly. Amos really came from a family of giants. He studied me closely and—I might have been sorely mistaken—but I felt like he was looking at me like how I normally looked at Amos. He admired me in some regard, and it was actually really cool.

“I’ll take two of those if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, Bud,” I said. “You gotta eat big to get big.”

After that, Bud stuck to me like glue. He asked me about my diet and my workout regimen. I wasn’t as bold as Amos, so I gave him a heavily edited version of my routine. We all swam around and chatted. If I had to make a complaint, my swimsuit rode up a lot. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but I didn’t think the entire Stanton clan wanted a glimpse of my beefy glutes in too little swim trunks.

It was a good time, and I was glad Amos allowed me to become such an intimate part of his life. I had even more fun after they all left. Amos told me he didn’t want to see any leftovers.

There weren’t any.

My life with Amos only continued to improve as time went on. I hadn’t made it home for the holidays like I initially told my family I would. I missed Christmas, New Years, and Easter. If I were to be honest with myself, I didn’t really want to see my family. I didn’t know how they’d react to my lifestyle changes.

“We’re worried about you,” my mother said to me over the phone in late April. It had been about a year since I had come to live with Amos.

“We talk every month,” I said, knowing where this conversation was going. “I just haven’t found a good time to come see you guys.”

“Well, Bobby is graduating next month, and I expect you to come home to celebrate your brother earning his master’s.” Robert, who everyone called Bobby, was my middle brother. Terry was the oldest, and he had graduated from college five years ago. I loved my brothers, and I didn’t want Bobby to think I didn’t care about how hard he had been working.

“Mom, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’ll check my schedule.” This whole situation was making me anxious.

“Is it money, Russell?” she asked. “It’s okay if you need to move back home. It’s okay.”

“No, mom—it’s got nothing to do with money.” I was over a hundred pounds bigger than when they last saw me. I didn’t want to hear what they had to say about my health or what I was doing to myself. 

“Maybe I need to send your father out there—” she started before I cut her off.

“Just text me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Everybody is going to be so excited,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “You must be starving out there working so hard. This is going to be the biggest celebration this family has seen in a while. I’ll make sure I’ve got all your favorite foods, baby. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Talk to you later,” I said. She told me she loved me, and I returned the sentiment before hanging up the phone. I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling its bulk. I felt massive and tiny at the same time. I wished Amos was here, but he was working. He wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.

At my April weigh-in I was just over 300 pounds. After seeing that number on the scale both Amos and I sat astounded. I had nearly doubled my initial weight in a year. He sucked me off twice after that. We still hadn’t had anal sex yet, but I had the feeling it would be happening soon.

Amos was a very by the book kind of guy. He had brought me products to prep myself for anal, so things wouldn’t be a mess when we did actually have sex for the first time. I hoped I could satisfy him in that way. I wanted to be what he wanted. Especially after he invested so much into me.

I ate my lunch and did my workout. I had become so accustomed to my daily routine that I had a lot of free time. I’d go out and about occasionally, and I noticed people would watch me a little more than they used to. I wondered if my family would actually say anything, or just stare at me like the people on the street did.

Looking at myself in a mirror after my workout I took in my body as I did every day. My shoulders were broad, meeting in the middle at my thick neck. Amos said that my face had gotten fat. He said that my head and neck had become a singular entity, and that without my beard it would be hard to distinguish the two.

Amos said that the cheeks on my face rivaled the cheeks on my backside. “When you smile,” he had said. “You can barely see your eyes.” It was true. I had always gotten squinty when I smiled, but with the extra weight I carried it was even more extreme.

My body impressed Amos in a multitude of ways, and he had things to say about all of me. The way my tits sagged, though still firm with muscle. How my butt had ruined nearly every pair of pants he bought me. The immense size of my thighs and calves. He even had things to say about how thick my hands and feet had gotten. I was getting hard thinking about Amos, about how he’d grab me.

He got in around five, pink bakery box in tow. “Russ, I’m home,” he called as he entered the kitchen. I made my way to where he stood. I was in a purple jock, my body on full display for him.

“Welcome home,” I said, walking close to him, ready to receive affection. He wrapped me in his arms, and I felt everything I had been worried about fall to the wayside, if only for a moment.

“How’s my big guy today?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“Not good,” I said, dreading having to talk about my intended trip home. “I talked to my mom today. I have to go home for my brother’s graduation.”

“I know how nervous dealing with your family makes you,” he said, letting go of me and looking down at me. He smiled softly, trying his best to calm my nerves. “You had to see your family at some point. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

“But—but what if they’re mad, or they want me to move back home?” I hated when I acted this way. I felt whiny, burdensome.

“You plan on leaving me?” he asked.

“No, sir,” I answered. “I never want to leave you.”

“Then they’ll just have to accept how much you’ve grown and the life you’ve set up for yourself.” I nodded. He was right. He always was. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I felt my face light up. I didn’t want to burden him with having to meet my family, not yet anyway. They’d be all over him, probably upset about my weight, not working, and being gay. “You would come with me, Amos?”

“Let me know the dates and I’ll take off from work.” I hugged him immediately, squeezing him much harder than I realized. He groaned loudly and I removed my arms from around him. He laughed, calming me even more. “You’ve got to be careful. You know you can break me in half.”

The next month Amos and I drove the two hours to my hometown. The entire ride he had me eating snacks. And I do mean the entire ride. Chips, trail mix, snack cakes, soda, sandwiches. When we pulled up outside of my parents’ place, I was next level bloated.

The first of the month was last week, and my weigh-in was somewhat disappointing. Maybe it was the stress of the visit, but I hadn’t been going as hard as I’d been the last couple of months. I couldn’t bring myself to eat my late-night snacks and I was barely getting through one gainer shake a day.

Amos didn’t say anything, but his lack of enthusiasm was like a dagger through the heart. I’d been working so hard, and I’d nearly doubled my starting weight in a year, but it didn’t feel like enough. I feared that if I continued to disappoint him, he’d look for someone who could better live up to his expectations.

“Do you want to grab the bags now or later?” Amos asked.

“We can come back for them later.” I wanted to make sure any potential escape was as swift as possible. There was no need to bring luggage into the house when we’d probably be leaving soon anyway.

We walked up the driveway to the front door, Amos behind me. My hands and feet were numb with cold, even though it was a sunny Friday afternoon in May. I was in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that probably shouldn’t have been so tight. You could see the outline of my belly button and my pierced nipples.

I stood frozen, staring at the doorbell. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t help feeling like some sort of freak, a disappointment. They wouldn’t accept me like this, and it felt ridiculous to welcome their disapproval. We shouldn’t have come all this way for something that could have been avoided. Maybe that was foolish of me, thinking I’d never have to see my family again, but it was better than this.

“Ring the bell,” Amos said softly. “Whatever happens, you know that you’ve got me. I promise.”

“Okay,” I replied, ringing the bell quickly before I chickened out. There was some slight shuffling, and then the door opened suddenly.

It was both of my parents, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. I think they both came to the door because they were expecting me. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year at this point. They were absolutely silent for much longer than could be considered normal.

“Uh, hey Mom. Hey Dad.”

My mother laughed awkwardly, turning towards my dad to exchange a glance before turning back to me. She looked behind me at Amos before she finally spoke.

“Well,” she said, laughing again. “Look at you.”

“Damn boy,” my dad added. “Your mom thought you were out there starving. You ain’t missed a meal since you left here.” Amos chuckled behind me. Of course he’d think that was funny. He was the reason I hadn’t missed any meals.

“Come in, boys,” my mom said. “Wait, where are your bags? Don’t tell me you aren’t staying.”

“They’re in the car,” I said, the warmth returning to my hands and feet. I was sure they’d have a lot of questions, and they’d probably talk about this for an hour as they laid next to each other before bed tonight, but they weren’t pushing me away. “I’ll grab them.”

I turned, so I could walk back down the driveway. “Damn, he got more ass than you,” my dad commented, patting my mom on the behind. Like my t-shirt, the sweats I wore outlined every curve of my body. The cheeks were slightly separated by the fabric, highlighting the heft of each. I looked up at Amos, who was smirking slightly. He really was enjoying my discomfort in this situation, the embarrassing comments from my father, the nervous glances from my mother. He was a bit of a sadist, and as weird as this whole situation was, I was kind of enjoying it too.

After bringing the bags into the foyer, it was obvious there were a bunch of other people in the house. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother loved celebrations, and this was my homecoming and my brother’s graduation. What better reasons to invite people over and throw a party?

Scattered throughout the living room were a bunch of my relatives. I saw my oldest brother Terry and his wife. She held their two-year old in her arms and was sporting a sizable baby bump. Bobby was wearing a sash that said “graduate” on it in gold lettering. His girlfriend was here too. I also noticed both sets of grandparents, some uncles, a few aunts, a plethora of cousins. They all looked at me like they’d spotted Bigfoot.

“Shit bro!” Bobby exclaimed. “You look like you ate your old self.” There was some laughter and nervous murmurs. I knew this was a make-or-break weekend. It was my reintroduction to my family, and I had to lay some things out on the table. In particular, I had to introduce Amos. I’m sure everyone was curious about the tall white guy who was towering over us all.

“It’s good to see everyone,” I started. “City life has been treating me well. This guy here is named Amos, and he and I are—we’re—uh, seeing each other.”

Nobody really said anything until my nephew, still in his mother’s arms, waved in our direction and said in his little voice, “Hi Amiss. I’m John.”

Amos returned the wave. “Nice to meet you, John.”

After that, some of my relatives came up to us and we talked for a few minutes. I excused the both of us and we made our way to my bedroom upstairs. We needed to set the bags down and have a moment to ourselves. I wondered what Amos would have to say about everything that happened.

I felt my body relax once the door was closed. After rummaging through his backpack, Amos just stood there, a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved collared shirt. He looked good even in casual clothing. His torso was long and lean, and the sleeves of the shirt hugged his arms seductively.

“Russ,” he said in a low voice. “This might not be appropriate timing, but I need to fuck you.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Twenty of my family members were a floor below us, and this was the time he felt prepared to fuck me? He made his way closer to me, reaching out to squeeze one of my nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. Ever since the piercings healed a few months ago, they’d become an extra-sensitive source of arousal. I was already getting hard, and he’d barely touched me. “Amos, we can’t,” I whined.

“You don’t want this?” he asked. 

“I mean—Amos,” I said, trying to make a sensible decision. But his free hand found its way to my crotch, rubbing my dick gently through the fabric as he continued to work my nipple with his other hand. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back a bit.

“They all couldn’t believe their eyes,” Amos whispered, his voice clear and dripping with lust. Him wanting me so badly was making me feel valuable again. I wanted this more than anything, to be what he wanted. “Your dad doesn’t mince words, does he? ‘Damn, boy. You’ve got more ass than your momma.’”

He turned me around and we stood looking at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply needed to explore my body with his hands to let me know what he was thinking. The way his hands sat under my chest, holding each fatty pec in his strong hands, squeezing them, jiggling them. My nipples were as hard as my dick at this point, and I had no intention of stopping Amos anymore. Not like I ever really would’ve in the first place. He had the control. He always had, even when I thought I was making a choice, Amos was pulling the strings.

His hands caressed my stomach, cupping the bottom of my gut and holding the weight of it up before letting it drop. It was solid from the two hours of snacking, but it was usually firm. He squeezed it again and again in different sections, inspecting every piece of fat he’d managed to pack on my body.

He moved one hand away from my belly, and I could hear the buckle of his belt being undone. Then I felt his hardness pressing into my back, warm and incredibly stiff. I saw him slip a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from the front pocket of his jeans. He set them on the dresser before shimmying out of his pants. I could hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor so I knew his pants must have been around his ankles. He positioned his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugged gently, still pressing against me. I watched him closely in the mirror as he worked, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I had wanted this since the day we met, and it was really going to happen. He tried pulling the sweats down, but the fabric got stuck around my thighs. I wiggled a little, causing the sweatpants to drop lower and allowing me to spread my legs a little bit further apart.

He placed his hands on my hips and I leaned forward, resting my palms on the top of the dresser. He gave my ass a smack and I could feel the sting of his palm resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh god,” I breathed.

“To think you’ve gotten this big in a year,” he said. “It only makes me wonder how much bigger I can make you.”

“You want me to get bigger?” I asked, losing myself in the foreplay.

“I know you’re not that tall, but you could get to at least 400 pounds and get around fine.”

“425,” I countered.

“450.”

He reached for the bottle of lube and opened it effortlessly. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and his dick, coating his member completely before spreading my cheeks to have access to my asshole. Slowly, he touched me with one finger, sliding it in gently. He worked my hole with the one finger for a few moments before sliding in another. His breathing was deep and intense, his face serious.

“I’ve got to put it in, Russ,” he said, looking at my face in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

I just nodded. He held one cheek in his hand, his dick in the other. He guided himself inside of me, the tip entering me gently. He stayed that way for a moment, not moving a muscle. I knew it was so he wouldn’t hurt me, but I felt perfectly fine. I needed more. I needed all of him inside of me. I pushed my ass against his front, taking in a majority of his dick in the process.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered as I pounded my ass against his thighs. He gave my ass a loud slap. I was salivating. I could feel the pools of spit in my mouth, and I swallowed so as not to make a mess. Every time Amos let me ejaculate this past year, some sort of dessert was involved. I couldn’t help but crave some sort of sweet treat. What I wouldn’t give for a donut or one of those banana cream pie cupcakes. I pulled forward and pushed back again and again, his dick hitting what I could only assume to be my prostate. I was in a simple black jock, my dick barely cradled in the front cup, leaking pre-cum profusely. “Whoa, Russ. You don’t have to rush.”

“It feels so good, Amos,” I moaned. “I love your dick.” He just smirked, allowing me to continue my back-and-forth motion. We were at it for nearly ten minutes when Amos came. My dick was dribbling so much, when I went to reposition it, cum shot all over the mirror and dresser.

“Damn Russ.”

“Amos, I’m hungry.”

We got cleaned up after that and headed back downstairs. I was utterly dickmatized. Whatever my family talked to me about went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to eat and get fucked again, but one of those things was too risky to attempt a second time, so I simply stuffed my face. Bobby walked up to me as I licked some chicken grease off my fingers. He just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked. I was closer to Bobby than my oldest brother, so I really was worried about what he had to say about this whole situation.

“You’re not really the little brother around here anymore, are you?”

“I guess not,” I answered, laughing aloud. Leave it to him to make a joke. I appreciated it.

“You and the white dude—Amos,” he clarified, to show respect, “are into some freaky shit. You know we could kind of hear y’all thumping around up there, right?”

“Aw, well, that’s my bad, not his.” I did kind of take over up there. Hopefully they just heard the thumping and not anything we were saying.

“And I’m not judging,” he added, throwing up his hands. “You seem happier like this. He’s got to have something to do with that, yeah?”

Looking over at Amos, who was talking to Terry and his wife, I couldn’t help but notice that he fit in perfectly, even in a house full of people who were very different than he was. He did take care of me and make me feel valued. Reflecting on how long it took for us to actually meet up, I could kick myself for thinking that Amos could be anything less than amazing. He was my home now, my family. In one incredible year, my life would forever be changed for the better. And hey, maybe Amos would really get me to 450 pounds (but seriously, that probably was less of sex-talk and more of a promise. Amos was always a man of his word).

“Yeah,” I said, “I feel like when I’m with him, it’s where I belong.”

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

Big Oak

I was in homeroom when Mrs. Drummond introduced Aidan Ashford. I’d never forget the first time I saw his face. He was so attractive it was almost unreal—short, slender, a sexy mouth. This dude was God-like, with immaculate skin, the same color as toasted almonds, and dark curly hair. He reminded me of Chad from High School Musical. I’d always had a thing for Corbin Bleu. His eyes were brown and somewhat sad. He looked at his feet nervously, and it made me feel for him. It must’ve sucked to transfer schools two months into senior year, as we were already in the middle of October. His pain was my gain though. It was about time I got some new eye candy to look at, and he was downright delectable. I was working myself up thinking about him, my mind already running a million different scenarios involving our non-existent relationship. I felt my neck go hot and I shifted in my desk.

I hated school, and not because I was dumb or anything. It was the building itself, not built for guys of my stature. In every class the desks were the same. Small. Cramped. Uncomfortable. (I liked the classrooms that used tables instead of traditional desks). For people my size, they were like torture devices. I was 6'6” and 365—okay, 375 pounds. My size was good for football, but other than that I hated it. Desks were never going to get more comfortable, grocery bills were never going to get any lower, and I was never going to get a date. I didn’t look like what gay men wanted. I was too big and too not white.

Everyone waited for him to say something—anything—but he didn’t. He saw the empty desk next to me and sat down. He sat very properly, his spine straight and pressed against the back of the desk chair. I turned to him to say hello.

“Hi, my name is Oakley,” I said. He looked at me nervously, eyes pained. He seemed a bit off, and it was a little worrisome. Maybe he’d had a rough morning. It was his first day after all.

“Do you need help with anything?” I asked. He shook his head no. “Like where your classes are, or how your schedule works?” He shook his head no again. He didn't like me. I thought I’d finally found another gay black guy; my current options were abysmal, few and far between. When I turned eighteen at the start of September, I immediately downloaded all the gay apps, and it did nothing for my self-esteem. I came to realize I was going to be nothing more than a fetish. I was a one-time hook-up that people didn’t want to tell their friends and family about. I never got very far with any of the guys that talked to me online. And now there was Aidan. In the thirty seconds we’d spent sitting next to one another I’d managed to plan out our entire lives together only to have my glorious future ripped from under me.  

I knew he likely wasn’t into me because I was so fat. It wasn’t like I was squishy fat or anything, just really solid, with a big belly and thick limbs. And okay, maybe I was a little squishy, but I hoped he could like me for my sparkling personality, and not what I looked like. I sighed and turned towards the front of the classroom. Who was I kidding? My personality wasn’t sparkling enough to get a guy like Aidan to be interested in me. I was deluding myself from the start thinking he’d want to date a beast.

I thought I could get the new boy out of my mind, but he ended up being in all of my classes. All of them. Every. Single. One. I was even paired with him in AP Bio. How could we work together when he didn’t even want to talk to me? When the teacher told him that we’d be working together I saw him wince. Whether it was disgust or just regular old disappointment I was unsure, but it didn’t make me feel good. I could have died.

“Big Oak!” Ah, Big Oak, my nickname since elementary school. I’d grown to hate it with a passion. I didn't like being identified as the big guy. I wanted to be the hot guy, the handsome guy. But I was the big guy, and Handsome Oak just didn’t have the same ring to it. “Hurry up! Come on!” The football team waved me over to our table, where we’d act obnoxiously, drawing the attention of the cafeteria for the duration of the lunch period. I had a tray loaded with food and spotted Aidan sitting by the garbage cans, alone. I knew he didn't like me, even as a potential friend, but I shook my head no at the team and made my way over to his table.

“Aidan, come sit with me and the team,” I offered. I thought it was a nice gesture, considering it was basically an instant pass to the in-crowd. I didn’t particularly care about popularity, but it was nice being cool with a lot of people. He shook his head no. That was shocking. Did he really not care about fitting in and making friends at a new school? This guy was so interesting, never doing what I expected of him, and it did nothing but make me all the more intrigued. “Well, I'll sit with you.” I sat down, feeling my gut hit the table. I sighed silently.

He was just watching me eat and I felt really embarrassed, considering I hadn't planned on sitting with him. The team saw how much I ate, but I guess it must have shocked Aidan. He was eating like a regular sized human being. All he had on his lunch tray was a grilled cheese, yogurt, a fruit salad, and a granola bar. God, I wished I could eat like that. Rabbit food, my dad would call it.

“Do you like it here?” I asked, the silence killing me. He stopped eating, pushing his tray forward towards the middle of the table. He shrugged his shoulders, looking at me cautiously.

“It’s a pretty good school,” I said, trying to make conversation. “Did you go to one of the other high schools in the area or did your family just move here?” He didn’t answer me. I let the silence fill the space between us once again. I bit into one of my meatball subs, marinara dripping out onto the top of my gut, staining my shirt. “Ah, shit,” I mumbled. He smirked at me and it was terrible. I was the sloppy fat guy now. “You think that’s funny?” I asked, trying to sound flirtatious.

He stopped smiling, averting his eyes from me. He shook his head no. Did he think I was mad at him or something?

“Happens more often than I’d like to admit,” I said. “A lot of people laugh at me when I’m eating. It kinda makes me feel bad. Not that I’m mad at you for laughing at me. Fuck, I’m talking way too much.” I laughed nervously. Having to carry a conversation all alone was really hard, especially when I considered the fact he probably didn’t want to be conversing with me in the first place.

“Am—am I bothering you?” I asked, regretting it almost immediately. To be completely honest, I didn’t want a negative response. I already felt like I was bothering him. That was my answer. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath asking. He looked down at his hands, but other than that he didn't move. “Man, I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you.” He looked up at me, biting his lip nervously, and shook his head no.

No? I smiled at him, feeling good. He said I wasn’t bothering him! He got up and dumped his tray in the garbage cans about five feet from where we sat. He turned towards me and with slight trepidation waved goodbye. We still had like forty minutes left in the lunch period, so I went to sit with the guys on the team.

After that I was on cloud nine. I didn’t care about my sauce stain and happily demolished the rest of my lunch. I kept my distance for the rest of the day though, not wanting to push my luck so immediately after a success. However, the more I thought about it, the more I came to the realization that I wouldn’t get anywhere if I weren’t persistent. I decided I would talk to him a lot more—well, kind of talk to him a lot more. It wouldn’t be much of a conversation if all he did was nod his head.

“Yo Aidan,” I called. It was the next morning, before homeroom. He stiffened up straight as I said his name. Maybe I had been wrong about that head nod. Maybe I was bothering him.

No.

I had to consider the possibility that maybe I was just being too self-conscious. I had to be confident or things would never go my way in the romance department. Though it wasn’t easy to feign confidence when talking to Aidan because he made my knees weak and my palms extra sweaty. I could feel my tongue turning into mush whenever I tried to speak. Just being around him got me flustered. I had goosebumps for crying out loud.

It was hard to believe someone so small could make me want to run and hide. He was maybe 5’7” on a good day and 150 pounds soaking wet, and something about that was really turning me on. Just standing so close to him, my shadow slightly eclipsed him. From an outside perspective I probably looked like the Big Bad Wolf about to chow down on Little Red.

“Are you not able to talk?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t some sort of faux pas. He shook his head yes. That meant he knew sign language, right? I could learn. I would learn!

“Okay, that’s fine. Yes or no questions for now,” I said, making sure to sound encouraging. “Do you want to sit with me and the team at lunch today?” His eyes widened—in fear? I thought he’d be excited. He closed his locker and hurried off to homeroom. He looked back at me over his shoulder, like he wanted to make sure I wasn’t chasing him or something. Was I coming on too strong?

I went to sit with him again at lunch, but he didn't show. It made me so irrationally angry. It wasn’t that I was upset with him, but with myself. All I could think about was how I could just make Aidan do what I wanted; I was bigger than him. What could he do to stop me? I could walk up to him and say, “Aidan, you’re my boyfriend now, got it?” I hated thinking like that. It was creepy as fuck. What if he wasn’t even gay?

What. If. He. Wasn’t. Even. Gay.

I’d been working under an assumption. I could be barking up the wrong tree coming off as a total basket case. Getting confirmation of that should’ve been step one. I made up my mind that the next chance I got, I’d ask him.

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded yes tentatively. The class after lunch had just ended, and we were on our way to our next period. I was definitely thirsty, trying to form any sort of connection I could with Aidan so that maybe I could win him over.

Suddenly I realized that I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t just ask him if he was gay. I was really new to the whole dating thing. I didn’t know how other gay people could find partners. What if he preferred to be discreet? What if he wasn’t out yet? We were in the middle of the hallway surrounded by other people. I had jumped the gun and now I was awkwardly walking next to him taking far too long to ask him my question. My mouth turned to mush again, and I started sweating. Fuck, I didn’t have a Plan B.

“Are you gay?” I blurted out in what I hoped was a whisper, trying to keep this conversation as private as I could in the crowded hallway.

He looked over at me seriously, like he was trying to see what I was thinking. My mom would say he was reading my aura. I grossed him out. I just knew I did. He wasn’t nodding or anything. This huge fat guy was coming on to him, so I guess this reaction was to be expected. He did a complete 180, running through the jam-packed corridor away from me and in the opposite direction of our next class. Fuck. I couldn't catch up to him. I could if I just knocked everyone over, like on the football field, but that would get me in trouble. Besides, that was just an idiotic plan overall. I guess that was my answer.

He didn't show up the next day, and when he did resurface, it was Friday. I saw him in homeroom, and he was obviously trying to avoid me. He wouldn’t even look in my direction. I didn't even get a head nod when I asked if he had been sick.

At lunch I found myself compelled to seek him out again. I needed him to know I wasn’t going to be weird and gay anymore. I had to put an end to this awkwardness, let him know we could still be friends, and move on with my loveless existence. I saw he had bought some fries and a soda. He was leaving the cafeteria, so I followed him. I called his name and he bolted, but I was ready for him. I caught up just in time and grabbed his arm. He dropped his soda, spilling its lemon-lime goodness on the linoleum; his fries were scattered across the hallway tiles. “Shit, I—I’ll get you some more fries,” I said as he tried yanking his arm free. I pulled him into the nearest bathroom so we could talk, but I had to grab awfully hard so I could pull him in.

I could see his eyes getting all watery and I was confused. This wasn’t something to cry over. I was the one getting his heart broken, not him. I saw his forearm was bruised and I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t think I grabbed him that hard, but I must’ve. I wasn’t thinking. I was just a giant, marinara-stained, homosexual monster. “I—I just wanted to talk to you,” I said like a fucking dumb puppy or some shit. He was holding his arm into his body as he sat on the floor, tears finally falling over onto his cheeks. “Please, stop crying.”

“Ah,” he whimpered as he exhaled slowly.

“Please Aidan, I’m sorry.” He had been panicking. I had this guy in a panic. “I didn't mean to. Let me help you up.” I went to grab his hand to help him off the floor. He crawled towards the door and I grabbed his leg and dragged him back in. I should have just let him go. I didn't know what I was thinking. He started thrashing his legs around and I pinned them down, along with his arms. “I just wanted to talk to you,” I reiterated like it mattered in the current state of things. Taking a moment to assess the situation, I realized it looked like I was about to do something awful to him.

“Pl—please don't beat me up,” he sobbed, pleaded really. It wasn't like he was calling for help. He just really wanted me to let him go.

Wait, had he just talked? I was so shocked that I released him from my grasp. He thought I was going to beat him up? He scurried over to the exit and ran out of the bathroom. I wanted to follow him, but I remained on the other side of the door.

He didn’t show up for the rest of our classes. I freaked him out so bad I had my doubts he’d ever come to school again.

Practice that afternoon dragged on and on and I was pretty hungry afterwards. We had a game scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, a Saturday. I usually performed my best at these pre-game practices, but I totally sucked today. I could only think about Aidan. He’d never talk to me again, or for the first time for that matter. I guess I could count him yelling for me not to beat him up as our first conversation where he used words instead of head nods. Why had he lied about being mute? The mystery of this guy was consuming me.

A couple of guys on the team invited me out to the mall. Even though I wasn’t really in the mood, I said I’d go. Being the fat fuck that I was, all it took was a “Big Oak, you know we’re gonna hit up the food court.”

I met up with them between the Sbarro and the Panda Express. I wouldn’t be expected home until later. I hadn’t eaten much at lunch after the whole Aidan-Bathroom debacle, so I was prepared to eat my feelings. We all ate a lot, but I ate the most every time, hands down. I had a couple slices of pizza, some fries, a double cheeseburger, an orange chicken meal, and a milkshake.

I was eating so much that the rest of the guys had already finished their food. They sat talking to one another as I stuffed my face. I’d normally be embarrassed, but I just kept at it. I ate whatever leftovers they had, and I still wanted more. The food was making me feel a little bit better. “I’m getting some Taco Bell,” I said, standing.

“You sure, Big Oak?” Kevin, our quarterback, asked me. His eyes traveled from my face to my gut. I looked down as well. My sweatshirt had ridden up, exposing the lower half of my stomach and my belly button. I tugged at it, covering the exposed flesh.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure. You guys can just meet me back here when you’re done if you want.”

“We’ll wait,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to miss the show, right guys?” They all laughed, and it made me feel pretty lousy. I was a gross joke to be laughed at. As good as the food had made me feel, I was now feeling worse than before.

“Hurry up, Pig Oak,” Mike, one of the wide receivers, added, still laughing. This just made everyone else laugh even harder. I wanted to go home. This wasn’t how I wanted to be treated, but it felt like I deserved it. I was a pig. Thinking about all the stuff I just ate was proof of that.

I started to laugh along with them, not wanting them to know they’d hurt my feelings. “Shut your mouth, Mike,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. “I may be a pig, but at least I don’t have a pencil dick.” That did it. The focus of attention had shifted from me to Pencil Dick Mike. Everyone had seen those nudes that got sent around last year. They all howled with laughter and I walked off towards the Taco Bell. I ordered six Doritos Locos Tacos, supreme.

The guys ignored me while I ate and then it was time to mall walk. In our suburb this was just how teenagers spent their time. There wasn’t much else to do in a big group. We walked around and I spent a good hour watching them get phone numbers. I was beyond bored and ready to go home, especially when they made us go into the arcade. We hadn’t been in this place since ninth grade. I sucked at arcade games back then, so I knew I was probably going to suck even worse now. I couldn’t even play the fun racing games considering I was the size of a house.

“Oak, isn't that the freak who can't talk?” Kevin asked.

“I think he can talk,” I said, looking at Aidan. “He just chooses not to.” He hadn’t noticed us yet, as he was busy restocking some of the prizes. He worked here at Game Explosion. I had to remember that. His hair was pulled back in a big halo of dark curls. He had on a bright neon, teal employee t-shirt. The color of the shirt just highlighted his beautiful bronze skin. He looked like some sort of God. He emptied fun size packages of candy into a larger bin. He was making me want to eat candy off of his body. Even my sexual fantasies involved food.

“Wanna make him talk?” Mike asked, smiling wickedly. Some of the other guys laughed at this, affirming they thought it’d be fun to fuck with him.

“No, let’s leave him alone,” I said. “He’s working and we don’t want to get him fired or something.”

“You must hate pussy so much because you are one,” Mike goaded. They all knew I was gay, and they’d make the occasional joke. I didn't care all that much, not really. It was just like earlier with the fat jokes. It was just how the guys on the team interacted with one another. I didn’t think there was anything truly malicious about it. It was just how we were supposed to show our friendship.

“We all know why you hate pussy, Pencil Dick,” I shot back, my heart not a hundred percent in it. They ignored my response and continued to push the whole Aidan thing.

“Make him talk,” Kevin continued to instigate. “We’ve seen you talking to him before.”

 “Why? There’s legit no reason to.” I didn't want to bother Aidan anymore. I’d done enough to him already.

“You’re being a real fag about this,” Mike added. This gave Peter and Carter enough to start in on me as well. Before long, the four of them had peer pressured me enough to go over to him. I was trying to tell myself this was to help Aidan. If I were leading the group, I could control the situation to produce the least painful outcome.

“Fine, whatever,” I agreed. I walked up to the counter that had all the arcade prizes. I never had enough tickets to win anything cool. He looked up from his work at me, his eyes getting that deer-in-the-headlights look. There was no better comparison. He was a deer, so fragile and delicate and beautiful. And I was a fucking grizzly bear with a bunch of other grizzly bears surrounding him. Aidan could see the rest of the guys behind me; he took a few steps back, bumping into the shelves with the stuffed animals. A few of them rained down around him, but he paid them no mind. “Hey Aidan,” I said as nonthreateningly as possible. He stepped closer to the counter again, placing his hands on the top of it, like he was trying to keep himself at his post.

He looked at me and forced a smile. He was waiting for me to asked him something about the arcade. He was trying to do his job even though he was terrified of us. His eyes traveled down towards my gut, and I realized my sweatshirt had ridden up again. It was layered under my open letterman jacket. I’d gotten the jacket this school year, but the sweatshirt was from sophomore year, explaining why it was doing such a shit job of preventing me from flashing everyone my fat stomach. I tugged at it again, trying to stifle the feeling of embarrassment. “You, uh, work here?”

He nodded, still trying to hold his composure.

“He’s fucking talking to you,” Mike spat in an over-aggressive manner. Aidan’s body tensed up.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, still smiling like everything was okay. “Can I help you guys with anything?” He had a really deep voice. It was sexy as hell.

“So you can talk,” Kevin remarked.

“Yeah,” he managed to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. He started writing again, like before we walked up to the counter, but had to stop because he was shaking so bad.

“We just wanted to say hello is all,” I said, trying to make up for the others. Those fucking idiots had scared him so bad, I doubted he’d come back to school ever again. “Let's go guys.”

They followed as I left the arcade. They were all laughing and mocking his voice. Adding a lisp that wasn’t even there. I was so pissed. They ruined everything! This was all their fault.

No. This was—this was—this was my fault too. I was just as guilty, even if I wanted to act like I had pure intentions. I didn’t try to stop them at all, not in a way that mattered.

I got in around nine, much earlier than my parents thought I would. My brother was on his computer and I said goodnight as I passed. I started doing push-ups on the floor of my bedroom. I couldn’t go into the garage to lift because it was so late, and my dad couldn't spot me. I took a shower, trying to calm myself down.

I couldn’t believe that even after everything that happened, I was turned on thinking about Aidan. His hair was so sexy pulled back like that. I pictured his face before we walked up to him, his eyes cast down at the notepad, his lips slightly parted. I reached under my gut and grabbed my dick. I could picture him beneath me in the shower, his hand on my gut to keep it out of his way while he worked my cock with those fleshy lips. I stroked myself off for another few minutes before I came all over the shower wall. I rinsed it away before getting out.

I looked at myself in the mirror and I kind of liked the way I looked. I liked my belly, which was still bloated from the food court, and I touched it. I turned to the side and took in how far it stuck out in front of me, surprised that my ass was actually sticking out almost as far in comparison. I couldn’t believe I was this big. Maybe I should diet or something and then there would be a chance for me to be happier. My hair was still wet, causing water to drip down my neck. I gave my stomach one last squeeze before I started to dry off my hair.

I had to make things up to Aidan, but I didn't know how.

I couldn’t talk to him. He’d just run away, and I definitely was not going to try and grab him again. Touching was off limits, because if I hurt him again—no. That was not going to happen. I walked into my room and sat gently on the bed. I remembered in eighth grade when I first needed a new one, and then last year when we had to upgrade it again. There was nothing more mortifying than explaining to my parents that it just broke. I had just been laying down and the wood snapped. This new king-sized bed frame was made from metal, but I was still overly cautious when I sat on it. With all the stuff on my mind, I didn’t remember dozing off, but I slept for like ten hours, only getting out of bed because my stomach forced me to.

I spent the rest of the weekend thinking about Aidan and how we were starting swimming in Phys Ed. Now I had two things to make me anxious. Anyone could guess I wasn’t going to be participating. I hated taking my clothes off in public. Always had. I’d been the big t-shirt kid for all of middle school, and a big t-shirt could no longer do anything to disguise how colossal I was.

On Monday, Aidan still avoided me as much as possible. I was trying to build up the nerve to talk to him again, but shockingly, he spoke to me after AP Bio, the class right before lunch. “Can—can I talk to you?” I had to look around to make sure he was talking to me.

“Of course,” I said, still in disbelief. We walked in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. It was a section of the school that didn’t have a lot of foot traffic, especially during lunch periods. We found a single-occupant bathroom and went inside. He didn’t say anything for what felt like too long of a time to be standing together in a tiny bathroom. This might have been very spacious if I was a regular sized man, but my gut was just inches from him, and my back was as close against a wall as my butt would allow. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked, feeling like I was going to barf. If he was about to tell me off or insult me, I’d let him. I deserved it.

“Why did you ask me if I was gay?” he asked, holding my gaze even though I knew it must have been really hard for him. “Do you have friends at Jefferson?” That was our rival school in the suburb adjacent to this one. So he was from a school in the area.

“Fuck Jefferson,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. He was still staring daggers at me, so I assumed my joke had not landed. “I asked if you were gay because I thought you were cute. I was just hoping you were gay like me. And I know that it’s ridiculous that I would even think you’d be interested in a guy like me even if you are gay, because, well, look at me.”

“Please stop.” He finally looked away from me. “Just stop it. I don’t know who put you up to this, but I don’t like it. I won’t look at you or talk to you, so you can just fuck with somebody else. I just want to graduate and get out of here.”

“Nobody has put me up to anything. Who would do that?” I asked seriously. I was really trying to be as honest as possible. I had no reason to pull a practical joke on him.

“You’re not gay,” he said definitively. He moved closer to the door, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to open it with me in the way. “I’m not going to let you play a trick on me. I know you and your friends thought it was hilarious to fuck with me the other night.”

“I’m not fucking with you, Aidan,” I said, trying to think of how I could explain things to him. “I didn't want them to mess with you. I—I tried to stop them.”

“Yeah right,” he said, trying to reach for the door handle. “You were going to beat me up last week.”

“No—no, I wasn't.” I didn’t know how to get out of this. The evidence was stacked against me, and even though this was all a misunderstanding, it didn’t seem like he wanted to hear it.

Aidan was trembling so bad it made me feel like a monster. I reached out my arm; I was going to try and give him a comforting pat on the shoulder, but he looked at my arm coming towards him with a panicked expression. I dropped my arm to my side.

“Are you going to let me out of here?” he asked uneasily. “I won’t mention we were in here to anybody. I swear.”

“I’m not holding you captive,” I said. “But please believe me when I say I’m not joking. I am gay. Ask anybody.” He looked at me again, trying to discern if I was being honest. I shifted my eyes even though I wasn’t lying. I just felt so bad about the whole situation. “Seriously.”

“How did you know I was gay?” he asked, his arms straight against his sides. He pulled at the sleeves of his long sleeve. It was really fucking cute, but then I remembered he thought I was about to kill him or something.

“I was just hoping, I guess,” I said, only telling a half-truth. “And, well, you move differently than most guys. And you smell like, a little girly—not that there’s anything wrong with that!” In truth he just didn’t smell like most of the guys I hung around with. The locker room always smelled like sweat and Axe body spray. He smelled like coconuts and other tropical fruits. It was really nice.

“If you just want sex or something, we can do that,” he said, looking down again. “It’s fine if you want to experiment with me. Just—just promise to ignore me. Act like I’m invisible. I won’t tell anyone about what we do together, so you don’t have to worry about anyone finding out.”

“I wouldn’t just use you like that,” I said. “I was hoping you might want to go on a date or something.”

“Why?” he asked, perplexed.

“I like you and I want to get to know you.” He stood silent, like he was running a polygraph on what I’d just said. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was now or never.

I filled the small amount of space that still remained between us. My gut pushed into him slightly, but I didn’t let that stop me. I couldn’t let it stop me. I had to make sure he knew I was for real. I leaned down so that my face was right in front of his. I kissed him, and he didn’t pull away. Our lips parted and met again and again, and then I felt his tongue in my mouth. His hands were on my stomach and it felt good. I could feel his palms and his warm fingers pressing gently into my middle. I wanted him to touch me all over. I could stay kissing him in this tiny bathroom for the rest of my life.

“I—I believe you,” he said looking at me, and for the first time ever, it felt like he wasn’t afraid of me. “You seem like a nice guy.”

“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “I’d, uh, really like that.”

“When?” I asked excitedly. I knew I sounded thirsty, but this was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He laughed softly.

“Whenever you’re free.”

“How’s Saturday for you?”

“Fine with me,” he said, looking down, but smiling. One day he’d feel comfortable enough to smile directly at me. I couldn’t wait for that day. “But I work at the arcade until three.”

“Okay, cool, I'll pick you up. What's your address? Wait, text it to me. Oh man, now we can start texting each other.” He laughed again, handing me his phone so I could give him my number. I held his tiny phone in my hands, slightly embarrassed that I was having such a hard time putting in the digits. My thick fingers were hitting multiple numbers at the same time. I finally got everything in order and handed his phone back to him. My phone chimed and I looked down at the message that I just received: Hey, It’s Aidan Ashford.

It was so formal, like I knew a million Aidan’s and needed to make sure to differentiate between him and all the others. My phone chimed again, and this time it was his address. “Is seven good for you?” I asked aloud.

“Yes,” he said, still smiling. This was nice. He usually had the same blank expression on his face, well, that or terror. I much preferred his smile.

“Uh, can you stand behind me,” I said, my face getting hot. “It’s the only way I can open the door with the both of us in here. I’m sorry.” He nodded and shimmied by me. Feeling him rub against my body was enough to have me fully erect. I hated feeling like a horndog, but I couldn’t control how he made me feel. I’d gladly replace in my memory the previous bathroom encounter with this one.

We spent the rest of the week texting. He still didn’t talk much during classes, and he continued to avoid the lunchroom, but I didn’t want to push him out of his comfort zone too quickly. I was just glad we were getting closer. I spent the entire week in an amazing mood. At practice my mind was clear, and we won our game on Friday night. That did nothing but good things for my confidence on Saturday night.

I went and got a haircut that morning, my standard fade. I took my truck to the carwash. I lifted with my dad and brother in the garage for about an hour. I was pretty pumped afterwards, my arms and shoulders slightly sore. Fuck, I loved that feeling. I wondered if Aidan liked that I was so muscular. Maybe that’d cancel out the fact that I was also fat as fuck.

I tried on at least twenty different outfits, slightly panicked because I couldn’t wear sweats. I decided on a pair of jeans that had seen better days, but they were my roomiest pair. I threw on a 4-XL t-shirt and layered my letterman jacket over it. I wore some white Nikes, size sixteen. Before I left, I put on some diamond stud earrings and a simple chain necklace. I didn’t look half bad. Hell, I’d even venture to say I looked good.

I told my parents I’d be out late and drove to his place. I didn’t know if I should go in to meet his parents or not. I figured I should. I got out and went up to the door. I texted Aidan and then rang the doorbell. A very pretty girl answered. She looked to be about the same age as me and Aidan. She actually looked a lot like Aidan. They had to be siblings.

“Uh, hi,” I said, a big goofy smile on my face. I was way too excited, but I couldn’t help it. “My name is Oakley Rivers. I’m here to pick up Aidan.” She stared at me for a moment, looking kind of angry. I began to feel uncomfortable. Maybe I had the wrong house.

“Yeah, sure. He’ll be down in a minute.” She didn’t invite me inside; instead, she came out onto the porch and closed the door. Her voice was the opposite of Aidan’s. From that intimidating stare down, I didn’t expect the voice of a Powerpuff Girl.

“So, are you Aidan’s sister?” I asked, looking down at her. She also had big, curly hair like Aidan. If Aidan was a deer, she was also a deer—an angry, intimidating deer that could slice a grizzly bear in half.

“Twin sister, actually.” He hadn’t mentioned any siblings this week while we were texting. I’d have to ask him more about his family tonight. “My name is Autumn.” She was shorter than Aidan by an inch or two, but oddly felt much larger.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said. “Do you still go to Jefferson?”

“I do not,” she said, coming closer. “I graduated last year, like Aidan should have.” She poked a perfectly manicured nail into my chest. “If you're fucking with him, I will kill you.” Her nail dug into my skin. “Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. I—I’m not messing with him. I swear.” The door opened and there Aidan stood, looking incredible. His hair was pulled back again, and I think he might have been wearing a little bit of makeup, like some eyeliner and a little bit of glitter on his eyelids. He looked like he was a cast member on Euphoria or something. I couldn’t believe someone so cool had agreed to go out with me.

He had on some of those chunky platform sneakers and baggy jeans. He wore an oversized denim jacket with a slightly cropped anime t-shirt underneath. It looked like one of the shows I had seen my brother watching before. This outfit was nothing like the sort of stuff that I’d seen him wear at school. This was intimidating. I looked like shit compared to him.

“Hi Oakley,” he said in his smooth, deep voice. “You look great.”

“Hey, um, thanks,” I responded, my voice cracking slightly. “You look really awesome.”

“Autumn, what are you doing?” he asked, closing the door and joining us on the porch.

“We were just getting to know each other.” She smiled at me and I smiled back. I got the feeling that if I didn’t, she’d stab me or something.

“Oh, okay, that’s good,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “Are you ready?” he asked me.

“Should I say hello to your parents?”

“No, let’s just go.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Bye Autumn,” he called as we left.

“See you later Aidan,” she called cheerily. I turned and gave a slight wave. “Bye Oakley,” she added dryly. She hated me.

We walked out to my truck and sat there for a moment. I was really happy. I was on a date with Aidan. “So, it’s a pretty nice night for the end of October. It’ll probably get colder soon, so I was thinking we could pick up some food and eat it in the bed of the truck.” He nodded, and it made me feel like this was a lame idea. I wish he’d talk more. It’d make me less anxious. “That’s probably a dumb idea. You’re wearing such a nice outfit. I got a carwash today, so I thought it’d be clean enough. I brought a blanket too. I’m sorry, it’s dumb. What—what do you wanna do?” I asked finally, realizing I’d rambled for far too long.

“No, I'm okay with that,” he said. He laughed a bit. “I really appreciate you taking the time to plan all of this. This is my first date, so I'm a bit nervous.”

“This is my first date too,” I said.

“With a guy?” he asked.

“No, with anybody.”

“Whoa, really?” he asked in surprise. “You’re so popular, I just assumed you’ve gone out on a ton of dates.”

“Have you seen me?” I asked. “Nobody is trying to go out with me. I don’t even know why you’re here to be honest. I’m kind of scared I forced you into this.”

He turned in his seat to look at me. It felt really intense, like he had something he really wanted to emphasize to me. He reached across the middle armrest and placed his hand on mine. “I want to be here,” he said. “Don’t think that I don’t want to be.” I felt like I was in a movie. Guys like me weren’t the lead in rom-coms, but he was making me believe that maybe I could be.

“Okay,” I said, grabbing his hand in mine. We sat like that for a few minutes, and it was really nice. I couldn’t believe how special he made me feel. He said he was here because he wanted to be, and I had to push away the negative thoughts that said that was a lie. I was going to enjoy this night.

“Now let’s go get some food,” he said finally, shifting in his seat and putting on his seatbelt.

I drove to one of those fast-food places that had like fifty different menu items. I wasn’t too sure what he liked, so I wanted to make sure he had options. I loved this place, so hopefully he enjoyed it too. “We can get the food and then drive somewhere private to eat,” I said. He agreed and we went inside. He perused the menu and I waited already knowing what I wanted. My stomach growled at the thought of devouring a gyro and cheese fries.

“Would it be lame if I ordered chicken tenders?” he asked.

“Definitely not lame,” I replied. “That’s what my brother always gets. They’re pretty good.”

I walked up to the counter and placed our order. I got his chicken tender meal and a gyro platter for myself (no onions) with a large cheese fry. I also ordered extra fries and two milkshakes. I didn’t know what kind he liked so I got one chocolate and one vanilla. I met him off towards the side so we could wait for the food together.

“How much was it?” he asked. “We can split it fifty-fifty.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He looked up at me expectantly.

“You can pay when we do non food related stuff,” I said, scratching at my chin. “It’s not fair to make you pay when you barely eat anything.” He lowered his wallet, putting it back in his pocket. We didn’t say much as we waited, but it was nice just being out with him. I didn’t mind the silence this time.

Some guys came in and he turned his body towards me, so his face was slightly obscured. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” he said, turning even further, so his back was almost completely facing the door and those guys who had just come in. They had called ahead so their food was already prepared. They grabbed it and were gone within two minutes.

“Those guys are gone,” I said.

“Sorry about that,” he said, smiling. “Just some people I didn’t want to see.”

“Order six-fifty,” the cashier called. I went to the counter to grab our food and we were back out at my truck. He was even more silent than before. I was kind of pissed those guys showed up. I was finally getting him to be more comfortable and now he was on edge again. We rode in silence to a forest preserve a few miles from where the restaurant was.

“Wait here,” I said, hopping out and getting the blanket set up. “Okay, come on!”

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the bed of my truck eating takeout with Aidan Ashford. It was kind of dark, but I knew that’d be the case, so I brought along a couple of candles. It was definitely romantic. We talked and there were barely any awkward pauses. He chose the vanilla milkshake. I realized he was pretty smart, and it made him even more intimidating. He liked a lot of nerdy stuff and gay stuff I’d never heard of. I wanted to write down some of the things he was talking about so I could research it on my own. He let me talk about football, even though I didn’t think he was all that interested in sports. I wanted to ask him about that day in the bathroom, the one when I first heard him talk. I wanted to ask him about those guys at the restaurant. The conversation turned towards Phys Ed.

“I notice you never swim,” he said.

“No,” I said, eating a chicken tender he had pushed in my direction. I got him a six piece and he’d only eaten three of them. He probably thought I was a glutton. “You don’t either,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I don’t, but—but I’d do it if you did.” He took a sip from his milkshake. I’d already finished mine. I got us both extra larges, and I didn’t think he was anywhere near finished with his.

“I can’t.” You didn’t really swim laps or anything. You just had to get in the water to receive credit. Everyone just horsed around. They separated the gym classes between boys and girls.

“I just hate that we’re losing points,” he said. “I really need to get an A in Phys Ed.”

“I’m sure you could do it without me.” He shouldn't have body image problems. He looked amazing. Could he really be that poor of a swimmer that he thought he’d drown in a pool full of people?

“Not by myself,” he protested weakly.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s just something that happened at my old school. It’s really dumb.”

“Tell me about it?” I asked. He handed me the rest of his milkshake.

“If you finish this for me.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

That was when he told me about his old school, the one Autumn graduated from. He was a year older than I was, which was definitely a surprise. He had to repeat his senior year because he missed so much school. Kids had always picked on him for being gay, but it started getting more serious at the end of his junior year. He thought things would cool down over the summer, but it only got worse. The main culprits were big, football playing guys.

Example? Guys like me.

He’d been on the swim team. One day after practice they cornered him in the locker room showers. They wrapped him in duct tape and tossed him into the deep end. They almost drowned him. I couldn’t believe it. Of course he’d been terrified of me. Some of those guys that came into the restaurant earlier had been in his class. I felt sick to my stomach. I had been seven feet away from the people who almost killed him. I wish he had told me. I’d have killed those fuckers. He said he wouldn’t feel safe unless I was there. I couldn’t deny his request to swim with him now that I knew what he’d been through. We were connecting. He was trusting me.

“I’ll do it,” I said. “We can swim together on Monday.”

“You’re like a superhero,” he said, and it didn’t sound sarcastic.

“Shut up,” I said, laughing. “You’re just fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” he exclaimed. “I really thought you were this awful guy who hated me, but you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

“I’m glad I exceeded your expectations.”

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

“You don’t gotta ask,” I said. He crawled towards me and wrapped his arms around my neck. He was on his knees and I had easy access to his waist. It didn’t take any effort to get my arms all the way around him. He smelled fantastic, kind of citrusy. He let go of my neck, but I didn’t let go of his waist. “You fucked up,” I said. “I’m never letting you go.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

His face was so close to mine, I could see the glitter sparkling in the candlelight. He leaned in and kissed me. The next thing I knew he was straddling me in the back of my pickup, and we were over-the-clothes grinding. My hand was on his ass, and I was surprised by how much was there underneath his baggy jeans. I had finished all my food, and I knew what I wanted to eat next.

He rocked his hips slightly, and I could feel his dick pressing against my gut through the denim. I knew he could feel my dick, the way he moved his body he was rubbing me just right through my own jeans. He bit at my neck gently, covering it in kisses. “You taste good,” he said breathlessly.

He was going to make me cum in my pants and that’d be so fucking lame, but I didn’t want him to stop. “You—you’ve gotta slow down,” I said, grabbing his waist. Fuck, just feeling how little he was in my hands was sending me into a different headspace. I just wanted to take control of his body. I wanted to make him do what I wanted.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. He stopped moving his hips, slinking in between my legs. He was like a cat. He’d become some sort of deer-cat hybrid. His hands fumbled under my gut looking for the button on my jeans. It was too tight. He wouldn’t be able to get them open.

“Let me,” I said, sucking in slightly and popping the button open. It had only been holding my gut back a little, but with the added freedom my fat stomach surged forward. “It’s—I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It’s gross.”

“It’s not,” he said, looking up at me from the base of my gut. He started kissing it slowly, licking it softly in some spots. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my fatpad. I hated that he was looking at it, knowing he probably hated it. But then he kissed that as well. My whole body tingled from just a couple of kisses. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten me this excited and he hadn’t even touched my dick yet.

He held my stomach with one hand as he covered the head of my cock with his mouth. I could feel it pulsating as his tongue played with the tip. “Fuck,” I said, not wanting this to ever end. “It feels so good, Aidan.”

I could tell he wouldn’t be able to fit the whole thing in his mouth, but he got the majority of it in there, taking some into his throat. He started making noises like in porn videos I’d seen, and it sent me over the edge. How could one guy be this fucking sexy? I wanted to warn him, but it happened almost instantaneously. I felt spurt after spurt of ejaculate erupt from the head of my dick. He managed to collect most of it, but some of it fell from his mouth onto the blanket.

He shielded his face, though I caught a glimpse of him covered in my cum. That was one of the sexiest images I’d ever seen, and I knew I’d be using the memory later on tonight for round two. He cleaned himself up and I readjusted my pants. Then he got all quiet again.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I hope that doesn’t ruin things,” he replied.

“Ruin things?” Did he believe I would think he was a slut or something? I’d never think that about him. I’d never experienced anything like that in my entire life. He’d never be able to get rid of me now.

“I know it’s dumb, but I’m kind of scared you won’t text me anymore.”

“I’m not like that,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about something like that with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks Oakley.”

I took him home after that and I made sure to give him a kiss goodbye. It was the perfect end to a perfect date. I saw Autumn glaring through the curtains when I pulled off. I hoped she’d like me eventually.

When I got home, I was buzzing. The endorphins were never ending. I had so much serotonin I’d never be depressed again. I took out my phone and sent Aidan a text. It said: I had a great time tonight. Can’t wait to see you again.

He sent back a bunch of emojis. It was really cute. He also said: Thanks for the best night ever!!!

Bridget Jones needed to move over because there was a new queen of rom-coms and his name was Oakley Rivers!

The morning after my first date with Aidan I remembered I needed some swimming trunks. It was Sunday, which meant I still had time to mentally prepare for my public humiliation. I promised Aidan I’d get in the pool, so I was going to get in the pool. I rummaged through my dresser drawers looking for my swimming trunks. I found them. I had bought them last year when this time of year came around, but I never wore them.

I pulled them up over my thighs and felt my neck go hot. My ass was too big. I couldn't fit into these stupid swim trunks. I pulled harder and they ripped. I couldn't believe it; I thought they were huge. I looked in the mirror and there it was, my big brown backside hanging out of some too little pineapple print swim shorts.

I felt slightly excited about this, but that was wrong. I shouldn’t have liked being fat. I felt my gut in my hands, the heft of it was stimulating. I flexed my arms and turned to the side. It really did stick out a lot. Was it wrong to like the way that I looked when I wasn’t what was considered normal? It felt good to be powerful, sure, but was I getting bigger? I couldn’t be, although I ate a bit more, but that shouldn't have made me this much bigger.

I went to the bathroom and stepped on the scale. I didn’t even have a regular scale because I had to get one that went above 300 pounds. I had weighed 374 pounds three months ago at the start of the football season. I couldn't have gone up more than five pounds.

I couldn't see the fucking number.

I couldn't get in the pool now. I couldn't—but that would let Aidan down, and that was something I couldn't do. I managed to maneuver my bulk so I could see the number. I weighed 402 pounds. 402 pounds.

I went back into my room and sat on the bed. The swim trunks ripped even more. I was suddenly very aware of how big I was. I was massive—gigantic—enormous. Whatever you wanted to call it. I had never worried much about my weight. I’d always been a really big guy, and yeah, I kind of hated it, but I hadn’t ever needed to worry about how fat I was. I was just fat. But now, Aidan wasn’t going to want to stay with me. Why would he?

Even though I knew things between Aidan and I would end as soon as he saw me in swim trunks, I made a promise to him and I had to keep it. I got dressed, hopped in my truck, and headed to the mall. Even my truck seemed too small. I went into a store for bigger guys and looked at the swimsuits. I picked up a pair of blue and red trunks. They were two sizes bigger than the other pair. I went to try them on.

They fit. I was kind of in shock that a pair of trunks that were two sizes bigger than the ones I’d just bought last year fit so perfectly, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I was glad I didn’t have to try on anything else, because having a mirror show off my body at every angle didn’t help with my self-esteem. Fuck, my ass was really ridiculous. My thighs were probably double the size of Aidan’s waist. No wonder I only ever wore sweatpants. I had a lot of muscle under my meaty chest and large powerful arms, but they were still covered in a layer of fat. I took in my belly again. It was so round. I hated it. I hated that I kind of liked it. I bought the suit and made my way home.

I had never been so anxious to go to school before. I knew this probably paled in comparison to how Aidan felt about going to school after what happened to him, but I was still terrified. We’d barely started getting to know one another and now it was all going to be over.

“Hey Oakley,” Aidan said. “Good morning.” He seemed to be in a good mood. We were in homeroom, which was first period. Phys Ed would be the last period of the day. I wasn’t planning on eating lunch.

“Hey.” He looked at me, like he saw something.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied. I could tell he wasn’t buying that I was okay, but he wasn’t the pushy type. He probably thought I just needed time to open up about whatever was eating at me.

“I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“Well, if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

“If there was something wrong, I would,” I said. “I promise.”

I was definitely uncharacteristically silent the rest of the day. I just wanted to savor the rest of the time Aidan and I had together before he ended things. I skipped out on lunch, spending the period in the library. I had a slight headache when it was time to swim.

I was one of the last people to get changed, and when the locker room was nearly empty, I got dressed as quickly as possible. I felt like everyone was just waiting to make fun of me. I was the biggest guy in the class, and not by like twenty pounds. I probably weighed the most by over a hundred. I absolutely hated it. Aidan would see me. He’d know what I looked like. But, I mean, I guess everyone already knew what I looked like. I was basically a walking brick wall.

I walked out of the locker room and into the pool area. Aidan was near a corner. I was afraid to go meet him. I started walking over to him, and I noticed nobody else was looking at me. I smiled a bit, mostly to myself. He met me halfway.

He was gorgeous. He had abs. Abs. He was so little. I wanted nothing more than to grab him by the waist and pull him into my body. I wanted to feel his arms trying to wrap around me. I was afraid I’d get an erection. “You look good,” he said. He wasn’t looking at me and his face was flushed. He probably felt embarrassed for me. I wondered if he’d end things in person or through text message.

“You do too,” I said honestly.

“Thanks for doing this.”

“I’m happy to.” He smiled. Coach yelled for everyone to get into the water. God, it was freezing. I could feel my nipples getting hard. Aidan stuck close by me, especially when they started playing a dunking game. I was surprised Coach didn’t try and stop it. We just floated off to the side and I made sure nobody came near us. Before long, it was over. I had survived it, and nobody cared. I was sure they thought I was fat, but they didn’t say anything. Aidan was safe and I made sure of it. It felt good to protect him.

“Do you want to come over tonight and study?” Aidan asked after we were dressed. His hair was slightly wet in some areas. He had put it up, and he never went underwater, but it still managed to get a little damp.

“Sure,” I replied, surprised he wasn’t breaking up with me.

“What time is practice over?”

“I'll skip.” I didn't feel much like practicing. I was starving. Skipping lunch completely drained me. “But can we get something to eat?”

“My treat!” he exclaimed.

We stopped at a McDonald’s that was on the way to his house. Smelling the scent of fries in the air made my stomach growl more loudly than the radio. He fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket, turned and smiled at me, and said, “I got paid on Friday, so please, get however much you want!”

It didn’t feel like he was making a joke or anything. I wasn’t used to not being made fun of for eating too much. Even at home there was the occasional jab at me about my weight. He still smiled at me, and it made my heart melt. I had wanted nothing more in the entire world than him looking at me like he liked me. Looking at me like he was happy to be alone with me, just us and the lady about to take our order at the drive-thru intercom.

“You’re not going to get anything?” I asked, a little embarrassed we had to make this stop because of me.

“Nah,” he said. “I had a big lunch, and I promised Autumn I’d treat her to Chipotle for dinner.”

“That sounds good too,” I said offhandedly, thinking about the last time I got to eat a burrito.

“You could come with us if you want,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m being weird. We’ve been around each other all day and now I’m trying to take up even more of your time.”

“I’d like to go with you guys,” I said honestly. “If the offer still stands.”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was then our turn at the intercom and even though I wanted to eat my weight in hamburgers, I kept it simple. The cashier gave the spiel welcoming me to McDonald’s and then I was able to place my order. “Can I get a number one meal with a Coke,” I requested.

“Would you like to make that a large meal for one more dollar?” she asked. I normally would have said yes.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“Does that complete your order?” I didn’t think I could skip lunch again. I was so hungry.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“—Actually,” Aidan called towards the intercom, leaning in my direction. “Can we make that the large meal?”

“Yeah, anything else?”

“And can we have two McDoubles, a ten-piece nugget, and—and an Oreo McFlurry!”

“That’ll be $24.87,” she said. “Please drive forward.”

I followed her directions and pulled the car towards the next window. He handed me his debit card. “I thought you weren’t hungry,” I said, taking the card from him.

“I’m not,” he said proudly. “I knew you’d do that, be all shy and order next to nothing. I told you to get however much you wanted.”

“That was enough food for me,” I lied, feeling really bad that even he thought of me as some greedy pig. We paid for the food and headed to his place. When we got there, it seemed like nobody was home. I could hear a television in one of the rooms, but nobody was moving around or anything. Where were his other family members? I knew we’d see Autumn later at dinner, but what about everybody else?

“My dad is in his room,” he said. “We just need to make sure we aren’t too loud.”

“Yeah, no problem.” We walked towards the rear of the house through the living room and kitchen. There was a small door off to the side. He opened it and ushered me inside. It wasn’t very spacious at all. He had a twin sized bed and a desk setup. There were also some shelves with small figures and books on them.

“You can sit at the desk,” he said, closing a textbook and pushing some miscellaneous knickknacks to the side. I couldn’t sit at his desk. I didn’t know how to tell him that I physically could not sit at his desk. His office chair looked comfortable enough, but it had armrests, and it didn’t look like the one my parents specially ordered for my room. “I can quiz you on Bio terms while you eat.”

“I won’t—I won’t be able to fit,” I said, my head falling. If I was just tall, yeah, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But I wasn’t just tall. I was big. I was wide. I was fat. He looked at me and then at the chair, and then back at me.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t realize. You can sit on the bed!”

“I should just go,” I said. It might not have seemed like a big deal, but I was mortified. What did he think of me? Why was he acting like everything was okay when I knew it couldn’t be?

He walked over to me, grabbing the drink caddy from my hand and placing it on the desk. I still held the bag with the food in it. He took that from me next and set it on his bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking up at me.

I didn’t want to talk about it. If we started this conversation, it wasn’t like we could pretend that it didn’t happen. He looked at me expectantly. Everything was going to end, and it had barely even begun.

“I think you’re a really nice guy,” I said. “I think you’re so nice that you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Oakley, what’re you talking about?”

“You could be on TV,” I started. “You’re the type of guy I’d see in some magazine and need to find your Instagram so I could obsess over you. I—I can’t let you be with me just because you’re nice and willing to settle for less than you deserve. I can feel myself constantly waiting for the moment when you can’t force yourself to be nice anymore. When you get real about how you feel.”

He looked up at me and his face was kind of angry. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. Maybe this was all it took for him to end things. I opened the floor for this discussion and now he didn’t have to pretend anymore. It was better this happened now rather than when I was absolutely in love with him. “Do you remember the first time you sat with me at lunch?” he asked.

The marinara stain never came out of that shirt. I’d always remember the moment he realized I was a fat slob. “Yeah,” I said, waiting for him to let me know how I wasn’t what he really wanted.

“I had never seen someone look so happy to be eating cafeteria food,” he said. I looked down, no longer able to keep his gaze. I was basically a giant, and the thought of breaking down in tears was humiliating. “Look at me,” he said. “Oakley.”

I looked up at him gingerly. “Yeah.”

“It made me happy looking at you enjoy your food. It was so adorable, and it felt like I was getting to see a side of you other people probably didn’t notice. You’re this big, intimidating guy, but you looked so—so fucking cute.” He hadn’t been making fun of me that day? I assumed he had been laughing at me like everybody else.

“I will say this however many times you need to hear it,” he continued. “I’m attracted to you. I want to continue getting to know you. I want nothing more than for this to turn into a relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Being insecure like this is so not sexy.”

“But you know what is sexy?” he asked. “Eating the food I bought you and enjoying it. You’re still finishing that McFlurry, even if it’s melted.” He led me over to his bed so I could sit and eat. I was really glad he ordered that extra stuff because I was starving. I destroyed all of that food in less than fifteen minutes. He sat, pretending to scroll through his phone, looking up at me from the floor. I knew he was trying to give me my space, but if he liked watching me eat, I wasn’t going to complain.

After all that we managed to study for about an hour and a half. He mentioned that he was supposed to meet Autumn at the Chipotle. She went to a community college in the area and worked a part-time job at a store that sold candles and other smell-goods. My mom would love to use her employee discount. Maybe if I got Autumn to like me, she’d help me shop for my mom.

“I don’t want to study anymore,” he said, stretching out on the floor. He was wearing his plain-Aidan clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans. He rolled over onto his stomach and got on his knees. He kneeled forward and stretched his back, his ass pointed in my direction. His jeans were pulled tight against his bubble butt. He got to his feet and sat next to me on his bed.

“I usually just cram right before a test,” I said. “You got me studying just for the hell of it.”

“You don’t study?” he asked, surprised. “Cramming would just give me too much anxiety.”

“If I get to study with you, I’ll study every day.”

“We’ll become the best studying duo in the country!” he exclaimed. “Tests and quizzes will quake in fear as we approach them. Our number two pencils will be our weapons.”

“What?”

“Oh, uh, I was just joking around,” he said. He scratched at the nape of his neck. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s no way to speak as the leader of the—the uh, Intelligence Collective. As your loyal sidekick and bodyguard, I must encourage you to—believe in yourself?” He laughed loudly, falling back onto his bed. “Sorry, was that not good?”

“It was perfect!” he said, sitting up. “You’re perfect.”

He moved closer to me, which wasn’t a long way to move on his tiny bed, and placed his hand on my thigh. I could smell his hair. That’s where the coconut smell was coming from. I wanted to smell it more deeply, so I leaned over and took a good whiff of it.

His hand traveled up my thigh, finding its way to my stomach. I immediately tried to suck in as much as I could on instinct. “Stop,” he said. I exhaled slowly, and I could feel my gut pushing forward. His hand rested there for a moment, and I’ll admit that it felt nice to be touched like that.

Like before, in the back of my truck, he stealthily moved in between my legs. He was on his knees before me, looking up at me from his bedroom floor. He grabbed at the hem of my t-shirt and pushed it up so that it rested on the top of my gut. He brought his face close to it and slowly kissed from one side to the other. His hand grabbed at one of my love handles and he squeezed it gently. I never thought having a guy focus so much attention on my stomach could make me feel anything other than embarrassment, but I was really enjoying how Aidan was touching me.

“C’mere,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. I pulled my sweats and underwear down so my cock was out. I grabbed it, stroking it a few times. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and with my free hand I popped open the button on his jeans. I was finally able to grab one of those cheeks. “Damn, this ass is fat.”

His lips met mine and we kissed for a few moments. I was still stroking my dick when he slipped out of my grasp. Back on his knees, his mouth wrapped around the head of my dick. I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on outside of this moment. I was completely lost in Aidan and how he was making me feel.

“Aidan,” called the voice of an older guy. Aidan jumped to his feet, shooting me a nervous glance. I put my dick back in my pants and pulled down my shirt. I felt my heart beating out of my chest. This could’ve turned into a very awkward situation. Before long, the man was at the door of his bedroom. This guy was maybe about twenty-five and a smidge taller than Aidan.

“What do you need, Ryan?” Aidan asked.

“Who’s that?” he asked, gesturing towards me. He didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

“This is Oakley,” Aidan answered, pulling at his t-shirt, trying to cover his front. He hadn’t buttoned his jeans. Ryan looked Aidan up and down, obviously noticing our mistake. “He’s a really good friend of mine,” he added. I stood up, adjusting my own shirt. He looked up at me.

“Friend?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Aidan replied, his voice shaking slightly. Something didn’t seem right. “Oakley, this is my older brother Ryan.”

“Are you gay too?” Ryan asked, skipping the pleasantries. I was getting a weird vibe from him. He seemed kind of like an asshole.

“Yeah, I am,” I said in an authoritative tone. I wasn’t going to let this guy make me feel bad about who I was. Ryan looked at me for a moment, really taking me in, and then he brought his attention back to Aidan. He walked out of the room.

“We should go meet Autumn,” he said, buttoning his jeans.

“Yo, what was your brother’s problem?” I asked. “I didn’t like that shit.”

“I probably shouldn't have invited you over,” Aidan said worriedly. “I thought he’d be at work until later tonight. Fuck.”

“You didn’t want me to meet him?” I asked, looking down at him. “Are—are you embarrassed of me?”

“Of course not!”

I thought about all the things he said that day in the bathroom when I first kissed him. He mentioned not having a problem with a secret arrangement. I never considered that he might want to keep me a secret. “Listen, I can understand if you don’t want to go out with me. I guess we can just have sex or whatever if that’s what you want.” He was packing away my things much neater than I ever would have. He handed me my jacket and backpack. He pulled on a hoodie and grabbed my free hand. He led me to the front door and then we walked out to my truck.

“I really like you,” he said. “But things with my brother are hard to explain. I just—I can’t talk about it.” I wouldn’t push him. I would let him talk to me when he was ready. I probably should have been more observant in the moment. Obviously, Ryan was weird about gay shit. Aidan probably wasn’t supposed to bring guys back home. I felt like I might have created a bigger problem for Aidan.

Autumn was not enthused to see me walking into the Chipotle with Aidan. I think it was mostly an act though. I offered to treat them, and like the weird twin deer-people that they were, they split a burrito bowl. I got a bowl with lots of extras and two tortillas on the side. I figured it looked better than buying two burritos. Aidan said he liked watching me eat, but I wasn’t going to eat like I normally would in front of Autumn.

I could tell once we finished eating that Aidan didn’t want to go home. I didn’t know what was going on or how I could help, and it made me really angry. When we pulled up to their house I watched in frustration as they went inside.

The day after meeting Aidan’s brother I asked him if everything was okay. I had texted him the night before, but he never responded. He told me that he was all good, but he thought he was coming down with a cold. He didn’t sound like he had a stuffy nose or anything. When I saw he wasn’t getting dressed to swim I asked him if he felt like his cold was getting worse. He was sitting off to the side against a concrete wall, his knees tucked into is body.

“I probably shouldn’t risk it,” he said. “I’ll probably beat this thing by next week. That’s what I get for not drying my hair properly yesterday.” He laughed, but it sounded strained. Maybe he actually was coming down with something.

“I'll go change back then.” I was perfectly okay with having my clothes on.

“You’re already dressed. You can actually have some fun without me.” He smiled. “And I like looking at you in your swim trunks.” I felt my neck go hot. It was going to take some getting used to, having somebody talk to me the way he did.

“If you’re sure,” I said, not wanting to leave him alone.

“I’m positive.”

I ended up getting in the pool. I wanted to see Aidan in his swimsuit again. The class period wasn’t all that fun, but I did get to dunk Pencil Dick Mike.

Aidan didn’t swim again for over a week, but he eventually felt well enough to participate again. The swimming unit was almost over, thankfully. It would only last until Thanksgiving break, which was about two weeks away. Aidan and I had been dating for about three weeks and I had never been happier. I wondered when I’d be able to ask him to be my boyfriend. Hopefully soon I could do something special for him and then I’d be able to ask him.

I had not gone back to his house since that day where Ryan walked in on us. Aidan didn’t ask me to, and I wasn’t going to invite myself over, especially since it seemed to have caused problems for him. My mother on the other hand felt compelled to invite Aidan over for dinner. I had mentioned that I was talking to someone and she insisted he come over for a pre-Thanksgiving feast. I told her that Aidan did not feast, but that did nothing to deter her from imposing her will on me.

“My mom wanted to know if you’d come over for dinner this Saturday, after the game.” Whenever we had Saturday games they were in the afternoon. We’d be done by five and my mom will have prepared enough food for ten meals.

“Do you want me to come to dinner?” he asked, walking with me towards the football field. He had to get to work.

“I want my family to meet you, yeah,” I said, feeling kind of bashful. I didn’t want to be taking this relationship more seriously than he was. That’d just be sad. I didn’t want to be moving too fast either. “It’s cool if you think it’s too soon though. No pressure.”

“Saturday would be perfect,” he said. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”

“Shut up,” I said, pushing him playfully. He laughed, trying to return the shove but finding himself stumbling back instead. “Leave the shoving to me.”

Saturday came much faster than I anticipated. The game went great, and I performed well. I had told Aidan to be here at seven, and the time I spent waiting for him to arrive was agonizing. I was definitely overanalyzing every detail of this meal. What if he hated the food? What if my parents said something stupid? What if my brother was rude? What if, even if everything went perfectly, Aidan didn’t like my family?

My mom had cooked even more than I had predicted, which is no easy feat considering the amount of food we consumed in my house. Of course I was the one that ate the most, but the others weren’t meek eaters. My mother was very tall, as was my father, but I was the tallest. My brother was fourteen, four years younger than I was, and pretty big too, about 6’1” and 250 pounds. That was a good five inches and a hundred pounds on Aidan.

At five minutes to seven the doorbell rang. I told them not to embarrass me and ran quickly to let Aidan inside. “Hey Oakley,” he said, going in to give me a hug. I embraced him, surprised he felt comfortable enough to hug me in front of my family.

Once we stopped hugging, I was able to take in his appearance. He didn’t have on any makeup today. I guess he was trying to keep it simpler for a family dinner. He wore khaki slacks and a denim button-up. He had a large braid on each side of his head that ended in a ponytail. I loved his perfectly styled corkscrew coils. They were so shiny and bouncy.

“Everyone, this is Aidan.” My mother swooped in, hugging him and guiding him to the dining room. We were all at the table in seconds. We just had to get through this initial awkward encounter and then hopefully everyone would be more at ease.

“So, Aidan,” my mother began the dinner conversation. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have two older brothers and a twin sister,” he said, grabbing a gigantic bowl of mashed potatoes from my father. It was almost comical to see him with such a large bowl of food. He placed a modest half spoonful on his plate before passing me the bowl.

“Oh twins,” my mother exclaimed. “If I were to have had twins, I would have named them after gemstones. Opal and Jade if they were girls, Jasper and Mica if they were boys.”

“Those are really unique names,” Aidan replied, trying his best to sound enthusiastic and doing a damn good job. He was trying so hard and it was too cute. My mom was smitten. “Oakley and Orrick are unique names too.”

Aidan had no idea what he had just unearthed. She loved talking about names and meanings and the universe. My mother was the youngest daughter of a pair of hippies. I wasn’t sure how she and my father had stayed together so long, considering my dad was an ex-collegiate athlete and construction worker. She was white and he was black. He grew up wealthy in the city and she grew up in the country eating homegrown produce.

“You see, when I was a girl,” she started. “There was a forest of oak trees right outside my back door. I spent years exploring the woods and aligning myself with the universe. And you will never believe this, but the first time I met Oakley’s father was in a little diner in our college town called, and I kid you not, the Oak Wood Diner.”

“That really is a major coincidence,” Aidan replied, obviously engrossed in her story. He hadn’t heard this a million times, so I guess he was genuinely interested.

“But wait,” I said with a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. “There’s more!” Orrick and my father both laughed, but Aidan looked at my mother and smiled.

“Please, continue,” he said, making my mother blush. This guy was the mother-whisperer. The rest of the food had continued to be passed around, and my plate couldn’t be more opposite of Aidan’s. He had his meager helping of mashed potatoes, one roasted chicken thigh, a few green beans, and a dinner roll. He didn’t even take any of the mac and cheese or the beef brisket. Me, my dad, and Orrick loaded our plates up like there’d be no chance for seconds. We ate heartily as my mom and Aidan kept talking.   

“So we came across one another at that diner often, to the point it felt like the universe wanted us to meet, so I went up to him and said—hon, do you remember what I said?” she asked, addressing my father.

Through a mouth that was half-full, he replied, “‘I need you to know that the universe wants us to know one another.’” My dad finished chewing and swallowed the food. “It was like she was an actress in a movie. This tall, beautiful woman walked up to me with a line like that and I knew I had to get to know her.”

“And the hospital where Oakley was born,” she said enthusiastically. “The floors were named after trees and we were on floor six—oak.”

“So you named him after something really important in your life,” Aidan surmised.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “Oakley means ‘meadow of oak trees’ and Orrick means ‘old oak tree.’ I think these names are probably why my sons are giants.”

“Or the fact you’re almost six feet tall and dad’s big as hell,” Orrick interjected.

“Well that too,” she added, laughing.

We ate a bit longer and then mom brought out the dessert. It was a cake from one of the best bakeries in the area. They called it a lemonade cake, and it tasted really citrusy and sweet. My mom cut huge slices for all of us guys, completely ignoring the fact Aidan wouldn’t be able to eat it all. We continued to eat and talk.

“Aidan, play any sports?” my father asked.

“No, not currently. I was on the swim team at my old school.”

“Why’d you stop? The season is just starting for swimmers. You could join the team at Jackson.”

“He doesn’t want to, Dad,” I interjected hastily, kind of killing the flow of conversation. We finished eating dessert in a bit of an awkward silence.

For the most part, my brother Orrick had been disinterested in the conversation. My mother told him to start clearing the dishes. Orrick and I looked pretty similar. He and I had the same sandy brown hair and brown eyes. I was a little darker than he was though, and obviously bigger, but the family resemblance was definitely there. I wondered what the rest of Aidan’s family looked like. I knew his sister looked like him, and even Ryan was obviously his brother, but what about his other brother and his parents?

Once we finished dessert, we went up to my room. He had eaten about a third of his slice of cake before sliding it discreetly in my direction, and I happily ate it for him. He sat nervously on my bed, and it was surreal having him in my house. Orrick came in and spoke much more freely than he had at dinner.

“Hey Aidan, how old are you anyway?” he asked.

“I’m eighteen,” Aidan replied. “But I’ll be nineteen in April.”

“Whoa, really?” Orrick came and sat on the bed next to Aidan. “So you’re older than Oakley? I’d never have thought that.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Aidan said seriously, almost as if he were in an interview. Orrick was pretty outgoing and could be very in your face at times, but I didn’t think he did it on purpose. His personality tended to engulf a person if he was comfortable around them.

“So am I better looking than my brother?” he asked, smiling. “Cuz Oakley got hit with the ugly stick on the way out of the womb.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, walking over to him and punching him in the shoulder. “I should kick your ass, bitch boy.” I grabbed Orrick and put him in a headlock, flexing my arm to really make it uncomfortable. Orrick groaned theatrically, trying to get out of my grasp. Aidan tensed up considerably, his eyes wide and his lips pressed together anxiously. It was so obvious that even Orrick noticed. It was like he was scared or something.

“Aidan, are you okay?” Orrick asked. “I wasn’t really hurt. We were just playing around.”

“Orr, give us a minute.”

“Yeah, sure. See you later Aidan,” he said, giving me a worried look before he left my room, closing the door as he exited.

“Your family is very nice,” Aidan said.

“They’re alright.” He smiled and I sat next to him on the bed. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be anymore stiff, but he sat up even straighter. “You don’t have to act like this around me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” he said. “It just made me think about—nothing, I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you and now Orrick probably thinks there’s something wrong with me.”

“You’re fine,” I said. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I really did have a nice time,” he said.

“I did too, thanks for coming over.” He looked over at me. How could someone’s gaze feel so intimate? I felt my heart beating in my chest and my palms get slightly sweaty. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him. I had to.

I leaned over into him, my body pressing against his. I held back most of my bulk so I wouldn’t squish him. He kissed me back, his hands on my chest. I wondered if he could feel my heart beating through my meaty pecs. We made out for at least thirty minutes and it had me feeling pent up, but I took him home before it got too late.

“I hope I can meet your family one day,” I said. We sat outside of his house and he had ten minutes before his brother-mandated curfew.

“You’ve met Autumn and she’s the only one who matters to me.” That made me kind of sad. What about his mom and dad? I knew Ryan sucked, but didn’t he have another brother? “I’m not trying to ruin the mood.”

“You’re not,” I said. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Do you and Orrick always fight like that?” he asked.

“Yeah, but we’re only fucking around,” I said. “It made you feel a type of way, didn’t it?”

“It used to be like that, sometimes,” he said. “But that was when Autumn and I were really young. When Ryan and my other brother Kyle were teenagers, that’s when the play fighting stopped being just pretend.”

“Are you saying your brother hits you?” I asked, my blood boiling. I was usually a very level-headed person, but sometimes I could just feel a rage inside of myself that wanted to be released. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and it seemed like he was confirming my assumption.

“No,” he said finally. “He doesn’t.” I didn’t believe that, and it didn’t feel like Aidan did either.

“I don’t want you to ever feel afraid to tell me anything,” I said. I was still fuming, so I had to wrap my hands around the steering wheel to center myself. I could see myself marching up to Aidan’s front door and confronting Ryan myself. But I realized the situation wasn’t as black and white as I wanted it to be. I sucked at understanding the gray area of things.

He sighed and looked out the window towards his house. “My dad doesn’t really talk to us anymore,” he said. “He goes to work, comes home, gets drunk, and falls asleep in front of the TV. I don’t mind it though. He was awful when we were growing up. So hateful. Everything that came out of his mouth was so mean.” He looked over at me, his eyes sad just like the first day I saw him in homeroom. “That’s where Ryan gets it from. That’s why my other brother doesn’t come home from college. It’s why my mom left.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“My biggest goal in life is to find somewhere safe, where I don’t feel so on edge all the time.”

“I want you to feel as safe as I do with you,” I said. “I really like you, Aidan, and I want to be there for you through anything. I’ll protect you myself. I promise.”

“I told you that you were a superhero,” he said, sniffling. I hadn’t meant for this to make him cry. I was just being honest.

“I know it might be a little soon,” I started. “But I really want to know if I can call you my boyfriend.”

“I would love to be your boyfriend.” He smiled, looking over at me, his eyes still watery. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

That was when an alarm on his phone went off and he told me he had to go inside. He kissed me goodbye and once again I watched in frustration as he entered his front door.

Once Aidan and I decided that we were ready to be in a committed relationship, there was no stopping the flood of affection I felt for him. Everything was going so well that even my lingering suspicion of his brother had subsided. After Football ended in early December, I found myself with a lot of free time. Aidan still worked four days a week at Game Explosion, and it meant I hung around the mall a lot more often. I’d spend my time grazing at the food court, studying for classes to pass the time. I just had to maintain a strong GPA and I’d be attending the state school next fall on a partial football scholarship. It wasn’t anything to scoff at either; I’d only have to pay two grand out of pocket. We fell into a routine that I valued, able to see him much more frequently than when I had football to worry about. Christmas came and went, as did the new year and Valentine’s Day. In March, Aidan spent the entire spring break working, so we didn’t really get to do much together.

Next thing I knew we were in April. It happened sooner than I could have imagined. In less than two months we’d be graduating. I drove to the mall on a Saturday afternoon excited to see Aidan. It was his nineteenth birthday. He hadn’t really mentioned wanting to do anything for it, but I still wanted to make it special for him. Aidan wouldn’t be off for another hour or so. I wandered the food court before going to Game Explosion. I ordered a couple of cinnamon buns and a milk to hold me over until then.

With fifteen minutes left in his shift, I made my way to the arcade. It was pretty empty, and I wondered if arcades were going to become a thing of the past. They were already riding the wave of nostalgia, and I didn’t think the novelty of them could last forever. Then again, I sucked at arcade games so I could have been viewing Game Explosion from a place of bitterness. I didn’t see Aidan manning the prize counter, so I wandered the aisles in search of him. There was some burnt out looking sophomore playing one of those racing games that I was too tall and too fat for, but no Aidan.

I continued my search, thinking about how I was going to wow Aidan tonight. I had planned a romantic evening that would definitely make this birthday one to remember. We never got to be alone at my place, and we still had not hung out at his house after the Ryan-incident. I’d been saving my money for the past couple of weeks to make sure I could rent us a hotel room. We’d order room service and watch movies and be together without the fear that anyone would interrupt us. I was radiating happiness and I knew I needed to chill out so I could present the plan to him at the right time.

I finally found him, and he was playing a game called Dance Dance Revolution. It was the hardest thing I ever saw, and I wondered who would play something like this for fun. His legs were hitting every note, or I guess they would be steps. I noticed it was on expert.

He finished the song with an A. “Dang,” he mumbled. “I got too many greats.”

“Whoa, you're really good at this game.” He turned around to face me and smiled.

“You saw me playing?” He looked at the screen. “I should've gotten a Double A.” He wasn’t even sweating or out of breath. It was truly amazing.

“Yeah?” I looked at the score on the screen. “But an A is more than I'd ever be able to get.”

“Oakley, this is so embarrassing,” he said, laughing. “I only play when there’s nobody in here. I prefer to keep this a hidden talent.” He was crazy. If I could play this game without tripping over my feet and falling on my face, I’d tell everybody. He picked up his cardigan off the guardrail. “I'm off in ten minutes.”

“Cool, I’ll give you a ride and there’s something I’ve got to ask you.” I glanced over at the game again. “And maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

“Yeah, of course.” He set his cardigan down and turned his employee key in both key slots so the two pads would work. I removed my letterman jacket. We both stepped on and I already regretted my decision.

We finally left Game Explosion after an hour session of Dance Dance Revolution. The ten-minute teaching session ran long because Aidan was determined to help me get at least a D on beginner. I was really bad at that game; I couldn’t believe he was so good at it. I was really exhausted and sweaty afterwards.

“I think I’ll leave the dancing to you,” I said, walking through the mall parking lot towards my truck. I took off my letterman jacket and placed it on Aidan's shoulders. He put his arms into the sleeves, which were too long for him. I really wanted to see what he looked like in it, in my jacket. He was so cute. I felt my face go hot.

“This is really warm,” he said. “And it smells just like you.”

“Yeah?” I wanted to ask if that was a good or bad thing, but I just looked at the ground as we continued walking. “You look really good in that.”

“I think it looks better on you.” He grabbed my hand and we walked slowly in the darkening evening light. It felt like a big bowl of ice cream on a hot summer night. It felt like warm cookies at Christmastime. Being with Aidan was the best feeling in the world and I was thankful every single day that he chose me to share his beautiful aura with. I was starting to sound like my mom.

Once we were inside my truck, he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and I loved the way they felt on my own lips. I grabbed the back of his head, holding his face close to mine, kissing him again. We must have been sitting there for ten minutes, just kissing.

“I know you have your curfew and everything, but we’re both over eighteen, so I got us a hotel room for the night.” He looked away for a moment, then back at me. “It’s fine if it’s too much. I just know today’s your birthday and I wanted to celebrate with you.”

He probably wanted to celebrate with Autumn considering it would also be her birthday. It’d probably cause problems if he broke his curfew. I shouldn’t have tried to surprise him. It was probably too much. Now I just felt embarrassed for the both of us.

“I guess I have to go pack a bag for the night,” he said excitedly.

I had that big, goofy grin on my face again as I put the truck in drive. We drove to his house and I sat waiting as he went inside. He was still wearing my jacket and it was making me hard. Maybe I was a little possessive or something. I’d have to keep that quality in check.

He came bursting out of the front door, a bookbag in his hand. He sprinted over to my truck and got in quickly. He was laughing as he closed the door. I hadn’t seen him so carefree before and it made me happy that I was playing a role in that. “Autumn had already packed a bag for me,” he said. “I texted her while we were on our way here.”

I pulled off from the curb and made my way to the hotel. It was about twenty minutes away. “You make it seem like we’re pulling some sort of heist.”

“We’d be unstoppable with you leading the operation,” he said, laughing again, his smile shining bright in the dark night. “You could take out all the guys coming after us and I’d—I’d probably only get in your way.” His smile slowly began to fade. No! I wanted him to smile the entire night. I wanted him to smile so much tonight that he’d wake up tomorrow morning with sore cheeks.

“You can play that song you like,” I said. “It’s your birthday, so you’re DJ.” He connected his phone to the truck’s speakers, and we listened to SZA for the rest of the ride. I sang along with him, only knowing the hooks. I think it was cheering him up, taking his mind off of whatever had him feeling down. When we arrived at the hotel I went in and got everything situated.

Back at the truck I grabbed my overnight bag and the bag with all the stuff I needed for his celebration. He carried his own backpack, and we went up to our room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest hotel, but there were eight floors and even a swimming pool, though I was pretty sure we’d had enough of swimming pools.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this trouble for me,” he said as we rode in the elevator to the seventh floor.

“You deserve it,” I replied, feeling bold knowing we were alone with no possible distractions. “You do so much for me, it’s only right I show you that you’re appreciated.” I shifted the bag in my right hand to my left, so I’d have a free hand. I reached over and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him closer to me. My hand traveled down, resting at the top of his ass.

“I’ll have to make sure I plan something extra special for your birthday,” he replied, leaning into me. We arrived on our floor and made our way to the room.

There was one large bed in the room along with the other standard hotel room amenities. We set our bags on the bed and he rummaged through his slowly, grabbing items for a shower. That’d give me enough time to get things together for his surprise. “I won’t take long,” he said. “Could you play some music or something?”

“Yep, I got you.”

I turned on the TV and flipped to a random pop radio channel. I watched as he went into the bathroom and closed the door. I’d have about twenty minutes to get everything together. I had stopped at a party store earlier in the week to gather things for tonight. I had picked up his present as soon as the store called and let me know it was ready. The hotel room had a small table near the window, and I covered it in an iridescent tablecloth. I placed a small lemonade cake I bought in the middle and surrounded it with fun-size packages of candy. I’d also brought lots of other snacks for when we watched movies, but I didn’t feel the need to take them out yet.

I hung a happy birthday string banner along the curtain rods. I took a step back to look at the table area and I suddenly started feeling a little self-conscious. This was kind of lame, wasn’t it? He was turning nineteen, not nine. Why would he be impressed by any of this?

With not enough time for me to make any changes, he emerged from the bathroom in a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. His hair was pulled back in a poofy ponytail. He froze, looking at me next to my birthday display. “Surprise!” I shouted weakly.

He wasn’t saying anything, probably because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. “Oakley, this—this is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me,” he said, bringing his hands to his eyes to wipe away some stray tears.

I broke out into that big, goofy grin I got whenever I was around him. I was also getting hard looking at him in his little black briefs. I’d seen him in his swimsuit, but this was a million times better. “Do you want me to sing happy birthday now or after you get dressed?” I asked.

“How about you sing happy birthday to me in your birthday suit?”

“I don’t know about all of that,” I said laughing. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and walked towards me. He was standing right in front of me and I couldn’t believe someone so beautiful could be this close to me. We’d rarely had opportunities for alone time like this. After that time at his house, he’d given me head a few times and that wasn’t very often. It was only when we could plan out times when nobody would be at my house. I’d never even gotten completely naked in front of him before.

He grabbed the hem of my t-shirt with both hands and lifted it to the top of my gut. “You’re too tall for me to pull it all the way off,” he said. “Will you take it off for me?”

I pulled my shirt off and stood in front of him in a pair of gray sweats. I stepped out of my sneakers next. He brought his hands to my waist, feeling my love handles. His touch was very gentle and as flustered as he was making me feel, I was still incredibly aroused. He slid his hands into my underwear and pulled them down along with the sweatpants. I could feel the fabric resisting his effort around my meaty ass, but with a bit more force he was able to get me undressed. I stepped out of the fabric that was piled at my feet and stood naked in front of him.

I had always had a hard time reading him, but he seemed to be turned on which was a good sign. He looked at me with a focused stare. It was really intense. “Oakley, you are huge,” he said finally.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said, thinking about how much I’d been eating since the football season ended. When I weighed myself this morning, I was pushing 450 pounds.

“Don’t be sorry for giving me everything I want for my birthday—although I’d like to do this more often.” He placed his hands on my arms and I flexed them slightly, smiling timidly. I could see his dick jump in his briefs. “Fuck Oakley, you’re so damn sexy.” The next thing I knew he was trying to get his arms around me, grabbing my butt. My dick pressed against him, and I could feel pre-cum slicking against his smooth skin.

I could see us in the mirror attached to the door of the room. I knew I was bigger than him, obviously, but seeing us in the nude was surreal. I was wide, at least twice as wide as he was. It wasn’t like he was ridiculously small either, but I liked that I dwarfed him. He sunk into me, like I was a memory foam mattress. His skin was a little darker than mine and I ran my hands down his back. Looking at myself. Looking at him. I felt good. We looked good together in this moment.

“Take these off,” I said, grabbing at the waistband of his briefs and snapping them gently against his butt. He shimmied out of them and his dick stood at attention.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, looking up at me.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” I said. This was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I felt so present in the moment. I never wanted this to end, this sexual tension, this lust. “C’mere.”

I pulled him into my body, lifting him up. I walked him over to the bed and tossed him down gently. I looked down at him, my dick aching. “I’ve got—lube in my bag,” he said breathlessly.

I rummaged through his bag on the side of the bed and grabbed the lube. I prepped my dick and his hole. I couldn’t believe I was about to fuck him. I was going to fuck someone I was undeniably in love with.

Aidan flipped over onto his stomach before perching himself on all fours. His ass was immaculate. He had such a pert, bubble butt and I inserted myself slowly. “Is this okay?” I asked, easing my tip into him.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “It feels good Oakley.”

I didn’t have a small dick and I didn’t want to hurt him, but he said he was doing okay. I pushed a little more, only about halfway inside him. As good as it felt, I still worried if he was doing okay or not. “You can—you can push it in Oakley,” he said, his voice a little higher than he normally spoke. I was a little over nine inches, and his ass took the whole thing. I didn’t move at all, not wanting to do something wrong. Aidan moved his hips slowly, building momentum. He pounded himself against me, making my gut shake. I slapped his cheeks before grabbing at his waist. Looking down at my hands holding him, enveloping his body, was an image I’d have ingrained in my mind forever. The TV was still playing pop music, so I hoped it blocked out how loud we were. Aidan moaned my name over and over and it was sending me to a higher level of existence.

This boy was mine. All mine. He took my dick and moaned my name. Fuck.

I pulled out as I was about to cum and ejaculated all over his ass and lower back. I had sweat on my forehead and I could hear myself breathing. I was out of the moment but feeling less insecure than I thought I would. “Shit, you just showered,” I said, chuckling nervously.

“I can always shower again,” he said, climbing off of the bed. “But you need to get your energy up for round two. Time for cake.”

The rest of the night went amazingly after that. Aidan wouldn’t let me put my clothes back on, one of his birthday declarations, and his hands were all over me the entire night. I was convinced something was wrong with him because he actually seemed to like my body the way it was. I couldn’t have been any more fortunate, and maybe if Aidan liked how I looked, I could start to like it too. I kind of already did, and he was giving me the support to admit that.

I sang to him and we ate cake. We ordered pizza. We watched movies. We ate snacks. We laughed. We cuddled. We fucked again. We talked. We fucked some more.

“I got you a gift,” I said between sex sessions. It was one of those gold necklaces that said a person’s name. He opened a jewelry box with two necklaces. One that said Aidan and one that said Oakley.

“I’ll wear the one that says Aidan,” I said, grabbing the necklace with the longer, thicker chain. “I was hoping you’d wear the one that says Oakley.”

He put it on immediately, climbing on top of me and kissing me deeply. Of course this started things back up in a new position. I got to watch his face as he rode my dick, my name around his neck.

I knew then for sure that I loved him.

At some point we fell asleep. The next morning we straightened things up a bit in the room and checked out. I slipped my jacket onto his shoulders again, wanting to let the world know who he belonged to. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him, but he had to get home to get ready for work.  

I wanted to spend every single minute with Aidan. It wasn’t fair we had to live in separate places. I couldn’t wait for college next year. Aidan had applied to the same school once I told him about my scholarship. We’d get to pick our housing next month, and hopefully we’d end up in the same dorm room. Just the thought of living with him was making me overly excited.

“Thanks again for everything,” he said. “That was the best night of my life.”

“Mine too,” I agreed.

We sat for a moment. He turned towards me and I knew he was trying to kiss me. I leaned over as well, and our lips met. I couldn’t believe this was getting me so hard considering how many times I came last night, but I wasn’t complaining. “I love you,” he said.

We hadn’t said that to one another yet. I had been wanting to say it for months. He had my mouth turning to mush again.

“I love you too Aidan,” I managed to get out, feeling emotional. He smiled, and it made me feel warm on the inside.

“I guess I should get going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” I asked.

“We barely got any sleep last night,” he said, laughing. “You go home and rest. I’ll text you later.”

“Can I at least pick you up?” I begged, sticking out my lower lip.

“How can I say no to a face like that?” He laughed. “You don’t play fair.”

He got out of my truck and closed the door gently. He waved goodbye as he walked towards his front door. I looked at him in my jacket and grinned like a total dweeb. I had the cutest boyfriend in the whole world. He went inside, and I was going to make my way home, but I noticed Aidan’s phone in the passenger’s seat. The screen was going off like he was receiving notifications, but it wasn’t ringing on vibrating. I guess he had set it to silent last night.

I picked it up, killed the truck’s engine, and got out to take it to him. It was a pleasant April morning, not too cold, but slightly breezy. I looked down at his phone and his home screen displayed 30 missed calls and a bunch of unread texts from his brother. That was definitely weird.

I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something bad was going to happen. The wind blew and I realized Aidan was still wearing my letterman jacket.

I could hear Ryan yelling as I made my way up to the door. “You’re wearing his fucking shit now too!?” he yelled angrily. “You gonna walk around proud to be his bitch!?”

“Ryan, just leave me alone,” Aidan responded, his voice shaking. The door was still slightly ajar. Ryan hadn’t even closed the door before he started going ballistic.

“Don’t you touch him!” Autumn screamed in her shrill voice. Glass broke.

“Autumn, you bitch. If I fucking cut myself, you’re next.” I waited by the door. I wanted to go in, but I didn’t. What if this made things worse for Aidan? What if he didn’t want me to do anything? “Give me the jacket.”

“No,” Aidan said firmly. “Fuck you.”

“Give me the fucking jacket.”

“It’s not mine to give,” Aidan retorted. “It’s my boyfriend’s.” I heard a thump, like someone getting pushed against a wall.

“Stop it!” Autumn hollered. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I opened the door and stood there taking in the scene. I saw Ryan pressing Aidan against a wall, grabbing at my letterman jacket. There was a broken picture frame on the ground near Ryan’s feet.

“That’s my jacket,” I barked. “I gave it to Aidan, not you.”

“Get out of here you big faggot,” Ryan spat at me. I didn’t care he insulted me. But he still held Aidan against the wall, pushing even harder now that I was there. He shifted so that his forearm was against Aidan’s throat. It caused his necklace to become untucked from underneath his shirt.

“Oakley,” Aidan choked out. “It’ll be okay. You can go.” He looked so scared there was no way I could just go. Autumn looked over at me, her eyes frantic. She shook her head no, letting me know she didn’t think I should leave. Ryan noticed the Oakley necklace and ripped it from Aidan’s neck, banging him against the wall again in anger.

I strode over to where they stood and pulled Ryan off of Aidan, who scrambled to pick up his broken necklace from the pile of shattered glass. I had lost control. Everything was tinged in red I was so enraged. I punched Ryan in the face, and he stumbled back. I caught him by his shirt and punched him again, this time in the stomach. I could feel my whole body on fire. I had to stop but I couldn’t. Not after seeing firsthand how he treated Aidan. I lifted him up off of the ground and pressed his body against the same wall he’d just had Aidan pinned against. I brought him close to me before banging his weak, worthless body against the wall again, denting the drywall. This guy was scrawny; he couldn’t have weighed much more than Aidan. “Don’t touch him ever again,” I roared. His eyes were wide. I didn’t think he was used to being a victim. I tossed him onto the glass, coming back to my senses.

I turned to look at Aidan and Autumn. They stared at me with wide eyes, the deer-in-the-headlights twins. I must’ve looked scary. I handed Aidan his phone from my back pocket and walked out of the house. What had I just done? I’d probably ruined things with Aidan. I’d probably get arrested. My scholarship would be taken away. I’d never get to live in a dorm room with Aidan.

Aidan followed me out of the door first, followed by Autumn who stopped to kick Ryan in his side.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said once we were standing near my truck. I tugged at my t-shirt, noticing that it had ridden up during the altercation.

“For what!?” Aidan and Autumn said in unison, perfectly in sync.

“I just wanted to help, and I lost control,” I said, breathing deeply. “I probably fucked everything up.”

“You saved me,” Aidan said. “And I’m glad you did.”

“Shit, me too,” Autumn added. “I didn’t know what he was going to do to Aidan. He hasn’t been this mad ever.” I gave a sigh of relief and Aidan came to embrace me. He held onto me tightly, and I squeezed him just as hard.

We spent the rest of that morning cleaning up their foyer and waiting for Ryan’s retaliation. About two hours after everything went down, he came and told Aidan that he wasn’t to ever speak to him again. And from what I’ve heard he hasn’t said a word to Aidan since.

Apparently, I broke his nose, and I wanted to feel bad, but he deserved that and so much more. Aidan finally told me the whole story about how Ryan had never approved of his “lifestyle” and had spent every moment since he’d come out as an opportunity to harass him about it. He’d suggested different therapies and programs to help Aidan live his life differently. It was total bullshit.

Autumn had plans to transfer to a school on the west coast in the fall, feeling that if Aidan were taken care of, she could have peace of mind. Aidan accepted his admission to the school I’d be playing football for and we’d be filling out housing applications next week. Prom was less than a month away and graduation was fast approaching.

I started hitting the gym hard again to prepare for the summer training camps, but my relationship weight wasn’t really going anywhere. I’d probably be a little bit bigger by the time the season started. I liked to think the extra weight made me better at looking out for Aidan.

I had reached the end of my rom-com, but thankfully this wasn’t a movie. This was my life. And it was only the beginning for me and Aidan. Our relationship still had so many more amazing moments that wouldn’t make it into the film. There was still room for sequel after sequel, and just like me, they’d just keep getting bigger and better.  

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

Project AX3

Tap. Tap. Tap. I was utterly dazed and in a state of total confusion. Someone was at my door, and they were knocking in a very precise nature. It was a constant string of taps with hardly any pause between them. I figured whoever it was would go away after realizing I wasn’t going to answer, but the knocks were persisting, the tone not even increasing in volume. There was no urgency, so I moved slowly, not completely awake. I have to get up, I thought. I reached for my glasses, putting them on my face sleepily. I looked over at my digital clock, noting that it was nearly three. Who in the hell would be at my door at three in the morning? I was suddenly much more alert, kicking off my comforter. I stood up, pulled on a pair of shorts, and ran to answer the door.

“I’m coming!” I called, my mind waking more and more by the second. At the sound of my voice the knocking stopped. They hadn’t been knocking as though they were in distress. It could be the building manager, but in my two years of living here, Bonnie had never knocked this late. Someone could be messing with me. Or it could be a potential intruder. Or it could be a demonic presence. I was making myself panic like I always did. Chill out, I thought. There is probably a simple reason why they’re knocking.

Cautiously, I peered through the peephole to get a look at the culprit. There was nobody there. I paused for a moment, almost certain what awaited me on the other side would bring my demise. I opened the door, and I quickly looked both ways down the hallway of my apartment complex. Maybe it was just some practical joker. I didn’t think there’d be anyone living in this building with the sense of humor of a ten-year-old.

Looking down, I found a note with a key taped to the back. It read, in small, neat writing:

Hello Mr. Kirby,

This is from your neighbor Jomei Tanaka. I live in 707 and I was hoping you would look after my apartment while I am away. Please keep an eye on things, for it is uncertain when—and if—I shall return.

He hadn’t signed his name, just having written the word goodbye.

Why would he just up and leave? Why would he ask me of all people to look after his place? I took the note into my apartment and placed it on the end table by the front door. It gave me a bad feeling, definitely. The nature of the note felt so final, I worried he’d done something reckless. I hoped he would be all right.

I didn’t even know what Mr. Tanaka looked like. I had never seen him. I was pretty sure he even got his groceries delivered. Could I go to the police with just a hunch? Did I need more vital information? I did not want to go rummaging around his apartment this late and get the cops called on me. After about thirty minutes of internal debate, I was starting to get groggy. I would check things out in the morning.

A few hours later I dressed quickly for class, making sure to leave enough time to check out Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. I was feeling guilty about not going to the cops when I first received the note. Mr. Tanaka could be dead in his apartment, and I could’ve made sure he survived. I was once again thinking the worst.

I ate a bagel with cream cheese as I packed my bag for the day. Moving from the kitchen to the living room I grabbed my computer from on top of the coffee table as well as a few textbooks. I had a pack of gum, a couple mechanical pencils, and some other miscellaneous items in the various pockets. Once I finished my breakfast, and was certain I had everything I needed, I headed over to Mr. Tanaka’s. I wondered what he even needed me to look after. His plants? His pet snake? I took in the brass numerals on his door: 707. Unlocking the door caused his alarm system to chime. I worried he might have had it set, but after a few moments of silence I assumed I’d be okay to continue my survey of the scene. I adjusted my glasses and looked around before entering further.

Mr. Tanaka sure left in a rush, or the place had been robbed before I showed up. I stepped over a shattered mug, making my way towards the sofa to set down my bag. His apartment was the deluxe. One of the seven apartments on each floor was a deluxe model. That meant there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. My place was miniscule in comparison, being a one bedroom, one bathroom. What did one man need so much space for? He was probably some sort of swinger. I could imagine wild sex parties taking place in each of the various bedrooms. Maybe he’d fallen for someone just this morning and they had to elope in Vegas. Love was just that powerful! I laughed out loud at the idea of it all. That was far-fetched, even for my imagination. My theorizing was cut short by the sound of a ringing telephone.

It continued to ring as I looked around, frantically searching for its location. It was going to be an ordeal attempting to locate it in Tanaka’s tornado zone of an apartment. I had given myself plenty of time to handle this, but I started to fear it was going to make me late for class. I was a junior at the university not too far from here, studying English.

“Hello,” I said reservedly. There was no response. I’d found the phone in one of the bedrooms, which was a total mess—the bedspread on the floor, clothes all over the mattress. “Hello?” I called again. I had picked up the phone just as it stopped ringing so maybe I had missed the caller.

“Hello, this is Doe speaking.” Her voice sounded like one of those recordings they used for voicemails. “Jomei Tanaka, state your authorization number.”

“Uh, hello, Doe,” I said. “Mr. Tanaka isn’t home, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Can I take a message?”

“No, that will not be necessary. Project will be terminated.”

“Project?” What was she talking about? I wanted to question her, but it was really none of my business. “Doe?”

“Goodbye.” The line went dead. I set the phone down, still trying to figure out what she was talking about. I exited the bedroom, ready to get my bag and—oh my God. 

There was a guy, a naked guy, shoving all of my gum into his mouth.

I froze. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t know if I should approach the mentally deranged guy chewing on a twenty-piece wad of peach bubble gum or if I should just snatch my bag and get the fuck away from him.

“So sweet,” he said. His voice sounded kind of like slurps, because of all the gum, but underneath that was a deep, raspy tone. I looked at him more closely, and he appeared well-groomed. He wasn’t bad looking either, actually really handsome. He was tall, somewhat lean, but incredibly muscular, and had barely any body hair. That is to say he had eyebrows and thick black hair on his head and around his penis, but he wasn’t a Sasquatch. “More?”

“Uh, I’m going to take my bag,” I said gently, in case he really was crazy. He grabbed the bag and held it in his arms. If it weren’t for my computer and textbooks, I would have left empty handed. “That—that’s mine.”

“Your bag,” he said. His whole Tarzan routine was concerning. “Your bag! Your bag has chewy stuff inside!”

“Gum?”

“Your bag has gum! I want more gum!” I had just noticed he wasn’t chewing the gum anymore. He had swallowed it, paper and all. He walked close to me, and I got a little nervous. I took a step back, but he kept coming. He extended his arms, holding the strap of my messenger bag. I couldn’t move back any further, my back against a wall. He’d cornered me, though he didn’t seem aggressive. He put my bag on me, his penis brushing against my hip.

“Uh, thank you,” I said, my face hot from discomfort. He didn’t seem to mind being naked. Where did he come from? I had locked the door behind me when I came in; he couldn’t have gotten in that way. He must’ve already been here. Was Mr. Tanaka actually into some sort of weird sex stuff? That’d be outrageous. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is AX3,” he said. That was not a name, at least not in the traditional sense. “That is what Jomei called me.” He was still in my personal bubble.

“Why did he, uh, leave?” I asked cautiously. My hand found its way to his stomach, which felt as if it had been sculpted from marble. I pushed him back gently, for the sake of my nerves. My brain was trying its hardest to make sense of this. Maybe this guy had done something to Mr. Tanaka. The note could have been a means to throw the authorities off, an absolute forgery. It sure looked like there’d been a struggle in this apartment.

“He left because of me, because I was violent—because I was imperfect.” Once again, I was dumbfounded. Was this his way of admitting to harming Mr. Tanaka? I stood silent, terrified of what this giant could do to me. I glanced towards the front door, determined to escape no matter what. “What is your name?” he asked me audaciously, even though I would have been majorly embarrassed if I was standing in front of some stranger in my birthday suit. His question didn’t deter me from focusing on my escape route.

“Casey,” I said, glancing at him and then back to the door. He repeated it back to me, looking me up and down.

“I like you Casey. You look nice.” What did he mean? Nice, like a good person? That I was attractive? Or nice, like the perfect next victim? I walked gingerly towards the door.

“Uh, well I have to get going. See you later, AX3.” I was going to leave the key here because I sure wasn’t coming back. I’d tell the police everything I found, all my suspicions, and be finished with the whole situation. That was my plan. I hadn’t signed up for this. I could handle houseplants and pet snakes, but this was not something I was qualified for.

“I do not want to be alone,” he shouted, walking towards me. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into his naked body. I felt his stone body against my own, noting that he was very warm. “Do not leave! Casey, do not leave!” He was strong, incredibly strong. I was pulling away, but he was grabbing me harder, his penis touching me more and more, pressing against my stomach. It was like he didn’t even notice. Was he getting hard? No, it had to have been my imagination.

“You’re hurting me,” I said, a little alarmed. He let go of me immediately. I looked up at him, and he frowned heavily, like a sad puppy dog. It was actually pretty cute.

“I–I did not mean to hurt you,” he said. “I am sorry.” When Mr. Tanaka’s note asked me to take care of things, did he actually mean him? Like seriously. Did Tanaka think this was an okay thing to ask a distant neighbor to do?

“It’s all right. I forgive you.” He smiled, revealing a set of perfect, white teeth. “I wish you came with instructions,” I mumbled. He smiled even wider and hurried off into one of the bedrooms. I got to take a look at his perfect, round butt. He sped back into the room and handed me a pamphlet. It was his—care instructions?

I doubted I was going to make it to my classes today. Why would Mr. Tanaka leave someone alone who didn’t seem capable of taking care of himself? I was going to get this guy some help and then email my professors about my wild morning. I was sure they’d understand my absence. This was not normal. The telephone rang again.

I retreated back to where I’d left the phone, answering it quickly. “Hello?” No response. I swallowed, my throat dry. I didn’t like feeling like I was in danger. “Doe?”

“You should evacuate the premises. Leave everything as you found it. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and looked at AX3, who had followed me into the bedroom. He stood perfectly still. I could hear a faint hissing sound.

“Uh, AX3—?” He looked at me, and then I started to feel slightly dizzy. He strode over to me quickly and picked me up. “What—what are you doing—?” My words trailed off. AX3 cradled me in arms, walking quickly towards the front door. He opened it forcefully, breaking the lock in the process. He pulled the door closed before he walked all the way down the hall towards the stairwell. He sniffed my hair as he held me in his arms. I kind of liked him, even if he was nuts. I was still kind of dizzy. “Your hair, it smells like—like sweet!” He was so ditzy, though it was kind of charming. He was probably talking about my hair oil. It was coconut scented. He was still holding me, and though I wasn’t heavy, I didn’t think he would be able to carry me for so long.

“Could you set me down?” I asked. He complied. I stumbled slightly, and he supported me, making sure I had my balance. I wasn’t too sure, but I had a feeling that Doe had something to do with what happened in there. Was she trying to kill AX3? He’d made sure I made it out of there okay and now I had to make sure he was taken care of. I’d help him get into contact with his family, his girlfriend—anybody who could make sure he’d be safe. “Follow me.” We walked back down the hall to my door. I fished around for my key in the pocket of my jeans. I unlocked the door, but not before Mrs. Horowitz saw me with a naked man pressing his flaccid dick into my back. All because he seemed to lack the basic instinct of personal space.

We stumbled in and he followed me into my bedroom. He was like a little duck, well—a big duck. I pulled out a pair of briefs and handed them to him. He put them on, and they rode up his ass. I couldn’t believe I was getting an erection with all that had happened today. He didn’t even try to pull them out from between his beefy cheeks. It couldn’t be helped; they were really small on his large body.

I handed him a t-shirt and that was also too small. The sleeves hugged his biceps and if he moved his arms the shirt rode up on his flat stomach. I walked up to him, pulling at the hem of the shirt, trying to make it cover more of his muscled stomach. I laughed when it wouldn’t stay put. He lifted his arms and once again I tried to pull the shirt down. He gave a husky laugh, smiling at me widely, like it was a game. I was forced to accept I’d just have to look at him semi-nude. My clothes just weren’t going to fit him. 

I wasn’t even at his shoulder, meaning he most likely weighed way more than I did too. I couldn’t see him weighing anything close to 145 pounds. I figured he had some clothes back at Tanaka’s, but with what happened earlier I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return there. He’d just have to make do with my too-tight underclothes for now.

I had set down the pamphlet he gave me when we first entered the apartment. I went to retrieve it. He followed, of course. I stood by the end table next to my front door and he stood behind me.

I could hear him breathing behind me as I read the three lines of text. They were labeled as Vital Information.

1. Do not leave AX3 alone for more than 48 hours.

2. Do not allow AX3 to consume more than 500 calories per day.

3. Do not anger AX3; he has the ability to kill.

That was not very helpful. Hell, that gum he swallowed was most likely over 500 calories. I looked at the back of the pamphlet. It was just a diagram of AX3. He was 6’5” and 230 pounds. I sighed and turned around. There he was, smiling at me dimly.

“Who are you?” I mumbled softly. He blinked at me, looking at me with a confused stare. AX3’s eyes were a very pure, bright blue-gray color that seemed almost electric. God they were pretty eyes.

I had monolid eyes, the irises brown in color, inherited from my paternal grandmother who was Korean. The rest of my ancestry was African. In high school, my best friend dubbed me the “Miniature Tyson Beckford.” My freshman year of college I dyed my hair blond, and I was currently in my blue period, with a bold cerulean fade.

“I am AX3.” He smiled again. “You are Casey.”

“I know who you are. I was just thinking out loud.” I didn’t know what to do with him. Should I report him to the police? Should I just let him stay here? “Do you have a way I can contact your family? Your mom or your dad?”

“I only have Jomei,” he said. It nearly broke my heart. I needed to figure something out, because unless I could find Jomei Tanaka it appeared AX3 would be a stray. “Do you know where Mr. Tanaka went?” I asked.

“Away,” he said.

“Yes, but where?” He shook his head no. Whatever the relationship he and Tanaka had, it seemed to be a rocky one. I hated to keep bringing him up to AX3, but he was the only lead I had. “Did he say when he was coming back?”

“He is not coming back, because he does not want me anymore. Because I was imperfect. I failed too many times.”

“What did you fail?” I asked, trying to figure out who AX3 really was—and I was getting tired of calling him AX3.

“The inspections, the tests. He said I was broken. He said they would kill him if I did not pass the tests. I did not like those tests.” He looked angry, and it was an emotion that didn’t suit him. He had such a happy-go-lucky attitude that this was almost like a different person. Looking at me, he panted ferociously. I stepped back, unsure of what he would do.  He started punching the wall, over and over again. In a matter of moments, he’d punched three holes in my wall. I could kiss that safety deposit goodbye. I didn’t want to yell at him to stop, afraid that would just make him even more upset. “They hurt! The tests hurt!”

“How—how about a cookie?” I asked, my voice shaky, uncertain if this would calm him down. He stopped, looking confused for a moment, then smiled at me. “C’mon.” He followed me into the kitchen, and I took out my cookie jar. They were oatmeal chocolate chip. I handed him one and he put the whole thing in his mouth.

“Can I have another cookie?” he asked, not even done with the first one. How many calories was this? I handed him another and he ate that one just as fast as he ate the first one. I had to tell him no more after the fifth one.

I was sure I broke the 500-calorie rule, but I was trying to satiate him. 500 calories were like nothing at all and he was huge. It baffled me that he would be able to live on only 500 calories a day. He was probably hangry. It was almost understandable he turned my wall into a punching bag. Maybe Mr. Tanaka had been starving him—though if he were, AX3 wouldn’t look to be in such fantastic shape.

I spent the rest of the day talking to him, every so often bringing up little questions about Mr. Tanaka. I found out that he was a single, older man. They’d lived in that apartment together for the last four years. He only let AX3 eat chicken breasts, celery, carrots, cottage cheese, and water.

I had hoped to find out more, but at around eleven I decided to call it a night. I made up the couch for myself and told AX3 he could sleep in my bed.

“I want to sleep with you,” he protested. It had been a while since I’d heard that from a guy. I wanted to ask if he and Tanaka shared a bed but decided against it. “Please Casey.” 

I would never do something so crazy under any other circumstance, but I went with him into my bedroom. He was still wearing the underwear and t-shirt I gave him earlier. I pulled off my jeans and pulled on a pair of athletic shorts. Normally I slept in my underwear, but that didn’t seem appropriate considering the situation. I put my glasses on the nightstand.

We positioned ourselves on my queen-sized mattress and he held onto me. I wanted to push him off, but I didn’t. He wasn’t a bad guy, though I felt like one. He didn’t know what he was doing, and truthfully, I let him in bed with me because I felt lonely.

My ex-boyfriend dumped me out of the blue about a year ago. It was during finals week, and I was completely overwhelmed with essays and projects. I got a text message saying he needed to focus on himself, and that he didn’t have time for a relationship. I was devastated. He was a year ahead of me in school and very popular. The worst part was that I thought everything was fine. We’d gotten dinner the night before and studied in the library together for a few hours afterwards.

I still saw him sometimes in the coffee shop where we had our first date. My freshman year I spent most of my free time there, loving the atmosphere. It was special to me, and that was why I suggested we meet there. Now he was always there, and I was rarely able to avoid him. He always had numerous unsolicited updates about his amazing life.

Before long, with AX3 cuddling me, I was fast asleep.

I woke up around six and looked to my right. Shouldn’t someone have been next to me, or was yesterday a dream? 

No—AX3 was gone. I sat up, reaching for my glasses. Hopping out of bed, I put the aviator frames on my face as I rushed from my bedroom into the kitchen. There he was, drinking milk from the jug.

“You don’t want a glass?” I asked. I looked at my counter. It was littered with food packages. He had finished off all the cookies. He had also finished some leftover pizza, a fruit tart my mother made me, a pound of honey roasted turkey breast. My Cinnamon Toast Crunch was gone, as well as my coffee creamer. I think he’d even eaten a stick of butter. His belly was full-looking, and it was shocking how bloated he appeared to be. I wanted to touch his stomach, like I had yesterday. He brought the jug from his lips. “I am sorry Casey,” he said to me. “Do not be mad.”

The 500-calorie rule had officially been broken, though nothing bad seemed to have happened.

I hadn’t gone to my classes in three days, and I was determined to go tomorrow. It would be Thursday, and my last day of classes for the week. I’d spent my time getting to know AX3, and to be honest we didn’t do much aside from hang out. We watched TV and listened to music. I taught him how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. That evening, as we watched an old Disney movie, he asked me to give him a regular name. I was sick and tired of calling him AX3, and I guess he was tired of hearing it as well. I told him he could choose one and I would respect whatever name he chose. He insisted that I had to be the one to pick it, and I settled on Axel, considering it kind of looked like AX3. “How about Axel?” I asked. He laughed, smiling wide, and repeated the name. He liked it.

The next morning, I got ready to leave for class. It was my only true commitment, considering I didn’t work. My parents paid for everything I needed. They told me that they wanted me to focus on my education. I was a bit spoiled in that regard and it was only because they had a great deal of money.

They ran a genetics lab and had hoped their only child would study genetics as well. Sadly, I ran from science courses, never having an affinity for them. Maybe I should have taken Axel to them, but they’d look at him and see he was perfectly normal and shoo me out of their office.

I told him I would be back in less than eight hours. He was eating marshmallows and I had given up on his care instructions. I’d need to go grocery shopping soon. We couldn’t live off pizza and Chinese food forever. We also had to get him some more size appropriate clothing items. “You are leaving?” His eyes got wide.

“I have to go to school. I’m a college student.” I took the marshmallows from his hands and placed them on the counter. “I will be back.”

“No!” He grabbed me into a tight hug, like that day in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. He was lifting me up, the toes of my shoes scraping against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It started to hurt. “You will leave just like Jomei.” 

He sounded irate, getting more and more worked up. He grabbed harder. He was so unhinged, and it broke me inside to think of what he’d been through to make him this way. Tanaka had really screwed with his head. I started to wonder if he had been abducted as a child. Again, he squeezed tighter and I started getting that lightheaded feeling from a lack of oxygen.

“Axel you’re hurti—I can’t breathe—” He sat me down, looking fearful and apologetic. He reached for the marshmallows, pawing at the neck of his t-shirt. It was probably too tight.

“Please come back soon.”

“I will come back. I promise,” I said. I walked towards the door and he followed. I pushed him back gently and closed the door behind me. I looked down the hallway and at apartment 707 was a man in a black suit. He was balding, and his hair was a snow-white color. This was a white man, so I figured it wasn’t Jomei Tanaka.

We made eye contact and I noticed he was holding an envelope. I couldn’t do anything right this second, but if he was going to leave something there, I was so going to take it as soon as I saw him leave. I left him in the hallway and took the elevator down to the lobby. I went outside and sat at a nearby bus stop.

No longer than five minutes later he walked down the street to a sleek black car and drove away. I ran back into the building, key in hand and up the seven flights of stairs. My face felt flushed, but I couldn’t stop the excitement that began to grow inside of me. This could mean more information for Axel.

I tried to use the key, but it didn’t fit in the lock. How had the other man gotten in here? He didn’t look like the type to pick a lock, but I’d recently learned not to judge a book by its cover. I, however, had no locksmith abilities whatsoever. “Shit,” I whispered to myself.

“What are you doing?” I must have jumped a foot in the air. It was Axel, and he was in the hallway in nothing but my too-small gym shorts. I guess he got fed up with the shirt. I had to buy him some clothes of his own. He seemed—wider. His chest was broad, his pecs sizable and incredibly plush. His nipples were pert and pink, the areolas a bit larger than a quarter. His abs, which had looked to be chiseled by Michelangelo himself, were nowhere to be seen. His tummy bowed out, as if he’d just eaten a large meal. I really needed to make sure he ate less, but he always seemed so happy when he was eating.

“There was a man who left an envelope in there. I have this key that Jomei left me,” I said, holding it up for him to see. “But now it seems the locks have been changed.”

“You want to go inside?” he asked. I nodded. He pushed me aside, and in one swift kick he knocked the door wide open. It was sexy, not going to lie. I looked around the hall, making sure nobody saw us, especially that busybody Mrs. Horowitz. I ushered him inside the apartment quickly, walking behind him.

When I got to look around my jaw dropped. The apartment was back to normal—well not exactly. It was clean, yes. But this was an entirely different place than four days ago. Someone had completely redecorated. Had Doe done this? Was this her getting rid of all traces of the project? All of the furniture was different and there were new colors on the walls. I saw the envelope the man had been holding, picked it up, and continued to look around.

They’d removed all of Tanaka’s belongings. It was like we were in a hotel penthouse. We had to get out of here. What if they had something worse set up than the stuff they used last time we were here? “Let’s go Axel,” I said, looking at the envelope in my hands. He pulled the door closed and we went back to my apartment. I threw my bag down and sat on the couch.

He sat on the ground in front of me in a pose that reminded me of a little kid. He had his legs tucked into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His biceps bulged with muscle, and they looked larger than when we first met. Maybe the 500-calorie rule had something to do with why he was getting so big so fast. He’d definitely grown since moving in with me, which was strange as it had been less than a week. I thought he still looked great, which was a thought I tried to ignore. I had to remind myself that we were only friends, if that.

I opened the envelope and pulled out six folded up sheets of paper. It seemed to be a review of Project AX3 and its terminated status. It detailed what the project was and why it was ended.

Axel was named from birth twenty-three years ago AX3—so he had never had a “real” name. He was twenty-three. There was something odd about knowing his birthday. He was a December baby. I had just turned twenty last month, in July. These documents claimed his mother “donated” him to the study, helmed by Lieutenant General Jomei Tanaka and a Dr. Lionel Lawry. He had been with them his whole life.

They were creating the perfect combatant and had been testing different formulas on him: a growth serum, a muscle developing medication, a brain stimulant which targeted receptors for aggression and rage.

They were being funded by the government. I couldn’t fathom how this was pitched, let alone approved and financed. Doe was a member of the government inner circle who led this and other experiments for the military. She was the one who decided to cut funding for multiple projects, and to terminate this project in particular.

His brain had been permanently damaged by the drug targeted at his frontal lobe. When he gets angry, he can’t control it. They rewired him—his brain. They’ve been manipulating his emotions, trying to make him ruthless, but it didn’t work out how they would have hoped. From what I read, about the tests, he had never been up to government standards.

He could only have 500 calories a day because when he was going through puberty, they tested another formula that would allow him to survive on a diminutive number of calories, in case he was stranded in combat. He’d put on weight more quickly than a normal person because of it; his body didn’t burn the calories properly. I doubted they ever tested long-term what would happen if he did eat more than 500 calories a day, because it seemed to have an effect on the muscle developing medication.

He was a government guinea pig, and they were just going to toss him aside because he didn't fit the mold they wanted. He never got to live a normal life. He would have died if I never went to Mr. Tanaka’s apartment.

Scribbled across the back of the final page was a note from Dr. Lawry. The handwriting was messy, the lettering somewhat jarring. It read:

LTG Tanaka,

This is a complete farce. Does that bitch really think 25 years’ worth of research can just be tossed aside like this? You’ve got to take the boy and get out of here. I fear that they’ve already gotten you both. If you get my letter, you know where I am hiding. Call my emergency number. Get in contact with me ASAP.

He signed the letter L.L.

I must’ve read the entire thing three times before I looked at Axel. When I did, he was smiling at me sweetly, eyes lively and good-natured. “What?” he asked.

Did I look worried? I was worried. What was I supposed to do with him? I didn’t want him to stay cooped up in my apartment for the rest of his life. Dr. Lawry sounded desperate. He must have been to leave this correspondence after seeing Tanaka’s apartment. He had to have been able to tell that things were amiss in there. Did he really think his colleague was just biding his time before returning to the apartment? I bet Tanaka got out of dodge before anyone could put a bounty on his head. His guilty conscience was why he left me the note, to make sure Axel was taken care of.

Axel stood up and sat next to me on the sofa. He put his arm around my shoulder. This isn’t what you think, I reminded myself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“I’m fine,” I said. I looked at him in the shorts. He’d stretched out the waistband and I didn’t think the elastic would bounce back. I only had little underwear, so he was going commando. His sizable penis bulged obscenely, trying to be contained by the thin, purple cotton fabric. “Though I think maybe we should go out and get you some clothes.”

“But I am already wearing clothes,” he said, jumping up. His ass was another problem. It was pornographic. Like my briefs that first day, the shorts rode up his butt. Even if he felt comfortable in next to nothing, he needed clothes because I couldn't take looking at him semi-nude any longer. This was a test from the universe—having the hottest man I’d ever seen living with me, parading around in the nude, and not being able to suck his dick.

I suddenly realized he didn’t even have anything to wear to go shopping for something to wear.

The next day, my day off from classes, we went to get him some things. He put on one of my biggest t-shirts and a pair of my running shorts. By conventional standards, the fit was terrible, but it was all we had to work with. His feet must’ve been at least a size fifteen, but I had a pair of flip flops that actually worked. They’d come into my possession one drunken night and I had no clue how. Had I stolen them? Most likely.

We left out around noon and I wished that I had a car so people didn’t have to see him so—sexy? He had a powerful strut that showed off the sheer size he carried around. In four and a half days, he looked to have put on at least twenty-five pounds. Walking next to him felt good, and I felt lucky to have met him. It felt like a date, and I had to remind myself I was simply helping a friend, like I was all five guys from Queer Eye rolled into one.

I lived close to many shops and we first stopped at a shoe store. I thought a pair of sneakers would be nice. I measured his feet, size fifteen and a half. I told him to pick any gym shoe he wanted. He held up a tiny shoe with a light up cartoon character. I couldn’t help but laugh. I doubted those were made in his size.

I told him to pick again and forlornly he chose a pair of Nikes. I also picked up two ten packs of socks. I paid, and we left the store to try to find some actual clothes. He didn’t get out much with Jomei I assumed. He was amazed by every store we passed and stopped to look in each of the front windows.

After some more shopping, we came to the coffee shop where he-who-shall-not-be-named often hung around. He saw the shelf of cookies and treats and turned to me, face excited and eager. “Can we get something? Please.” As much as I wanted to avoid this place, I just couldn’t say no to him.

“Yeah, let’s get something.” I opened the door and he walked in. I followed. We went up to the counter and I saw his eyes explore the shelf of goodies. “What do you want?” I asked after ordering a large, iced coffee.

“I do not know. What should I get Casey?” he asked me, still staring at all the pastries. They only had twenty different items.

“May we have one of each?” The worker asked me if I was sure, looking towards Axel, then back at me. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” She pulled out a box and began to place one of each inside of it. I took the box and my coffee, along with three milks for Axel, and sat at a small table near the exit. He placed the bags he had been carrying beside his chair. Along with his shoes and socks, we had bought two pairs of sweatpants, three pairs of athletic shorts, a multipack of t-shirts (he chose purple, because they matched his new underwear), and a pair of blue jeans.

He had eaten three of the cakes and I sat watching him enjoy himself as I sipped on my coffee. He was a behemoth and taking him in outside of my living room was bizarre. In my apartment he dwarfed everything, but even in public he took up space in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. He made everything seem so tiny. The milk cartons in his hands looked surreal. The width of his shoulders was intimidating, and the fact that he was still wearing my shirt that didn’t fit exaggerated the muscularity of his neck and traps. He also had a small gut that peeked out the bottom of the shirt, which was more akin to a crop top. I wanted to rub his belly, to feel his beefiness with my own hands.

“This one is really good,” he said through a mouthful of lemon cake with vanilla frosting. “You have to try it.” He leaned forward, extending the dessert to me. “Bite it,” he directed, smiling. I took a small bite, savoring the tart-sweet combination.

“That is good,” I said. He smiled even wider, pleased with himself. I was really starting to like him. He asked if I wanted any more and I declined. He then shoved the remains of the cake into his mouth, smearing frosting on his lips and nose. We needed napkins. “I’ll be right back,” I informed him. I went up to the napkin dispenser by the service counter and grabbed a couple while he continued to eat his food. The 500-calorie thing was dead and gone.

“Space Case!” I cringed at the pet name. I turned to face my ex-boyfriend. “Blue hair, huh?” He smiled at me, though I could tell he was being facetious. He was a fake, all of him, everything about him. But even knowing he didn’t matter in my life anymore, that he had no control over my self-image, it made me feel small. He was a dick—but I still cared about him. I still thought about him. I still had hope that maybe one day he’d say he made a mistake when he broke up with me through text message. “How’s it going?” he asked, sure that I was doing terribly.

“Hey Jonah,” I said, smiling. I could feel myself being fake too. I hated it. “I’m doing great, how about you?” It had always been so hard being myself with him. It was nothing like this with Axel. I didn’t feel so worthless, so insignificant. I felt my hand squeezing the napkins. They’d be too crumpled to use if I didn’t chill.

“Oh nothing, been dating a lot.” He smiled wide, sure I hadn’t been on a date in forever. He reveled in the fact that I hadn’t gotten over him. “I’m just trying to get through these next twelve weeks. I’m graduating in December, a semester early. I can’t wait for graduation. Can’t wait to move out west.”

“Awesome,” I said, feeling that none of the things he said were remarkable. He was a braggart. I knew he just wanted to tell me how great things had been going for him.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” he asked. That was all he really wanted to know. I could lie, but then he’d hassle me for details, and that would trip me up.

“Well, I, uh—um,” I stuttered. Just then Axel walked up to us. He still had some stuff on his face. “C’mere,” I said. He leaned down so I could reach his face. I wiped it off for him, taking in his beautiful eyes for the millionth time.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Jonah asked. Wiping food off of Axel’s face did make us look a bit like we were together. I wanted to shove Axel in his face more than anything. Jonah wouldn’t know what to do with himself, honestly. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t use him that way, no matter how much I wanted to.

“No, just a friend,” I said softly. He set his gaze on Axel and started flirting up a storm. I didn’t even get to introduce them. I didn’t get to tell Axel anything about Jonah. I could tell Axel was over it, and I was worried he’d get upset. Funnily enough, I was the one getting angry. I wanted to punch a couple of holes in something and it wasn’t my apartment wall. I counted backwards from ten, and with each number I pictured something that made me smile.

“You must be an athlete,” Jonah said. “With all those muscles.” He deliberately glanced at Axel’s package, which admittedly was somewhat obscene in my shorts, but it was still creepy as fuck of Jonah to do. Axel looked at him blankly, and I was once again afraid he’d get upset.

“Back off Jonah, he’s not interested.”

“He can tell me that,” he replied, sure he’d won Axel over.

“I am not interested,” Axel said plainly. He grabbed my arm and walked me back over to our table. I glanced back at Jonah, who didn’t look nearly as good as I remembered. He over arched his eyebrows and wore too much cologne. I felt myself smile. Axel had stood up for me.

“Can we go now?” he asked. “That weird man keeps staring at us.” I glanced over at Jonah, his face scrunched up and displeased. His laptop was open, but he was staring daggers at us. Axel still had five or so pastries left, but I was sure he’d eat them at home. We gathered up our belongings and went back to my apartment. I laughed a little bit at the memory of Jonah’s face.

In the hallway I saw the man with the snow-white hair, Dr. Lawry. I hadn’t expected to see him again. He looked at me, and then at Axel. His face registered shock and we walked by quickly. Axel walked close to me, his body pushing mine forward causing me to stumble. He was afraid. I didn’t want that bastard anywhere near Axel. I had to keep him safe. “AX3!” Lawry shouted. “AX3!” Axel glanced back at him, but I told him to keep walking.

“I know that man, he works with—with Jomei,” Axel said to me as I attempted to unlock my door. “He is not nice. He is not nice, Casey.” My hands were shaking, and I was still balancing the desserts from the coffee shop.

“AX3!” he yelled again. “Perro de Presa Canario!”

Axel dropped his bags and turned towards the older man. His entire posture had changed. He looked ten times more aggressive, his hands in fists. Lawry smiled—before Axel lumbered over to him, lifting him off of the ground like a ragdoll. He threw Dr. Lawry effortlessly, the old man bouncing off the wall and hitting the floor of the carpeted hallway.

Axel turned towards me, looking the most frightening I’d ever seen him. This was different from the other times. He seemed removed from the situation, as if acting on a vicious autopilot. All of his muscles looked tense and his nostrils were flared. I backed up slowly. He exposed his teeth, like some kind of dog. It couldn’t have been the same person—the person who loved the color purple and cookies. I dropped the box, covering my face instinctively.

“Palos Verdes Blue,” Lawry shouted. There was a loud thud, and when I peeked out from behind my arms, I saw that Axel had hit the ground. He’d passed out.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted, almost crying. I felt the tears welling up. “What did you do!?” I ran over to Dr. Lawry, tackling him. I sat on top of him, and he smiled up at me. His smug face was infuriating, and before I could stop myself, I punched him. I had never hit anyone before. I didn’t enjoy it, but he stopped smiling.

“Let’s just go inside,” he said, rubbing his jaw. I stood up, heart racing. I looked at him, and then at Axel, who was still unconscious. I grabbed all of the bags and put them inside. I picked up the box from the coffee shop and set it on the end table by the door. Hopefully, the desserts were still edible. Dr. Lawry was only a bit larger than I was, so it took the both of us to drag him inside. Axel was so heavy, we couldn’t put him on the sofa, so I just placed a pillow under his head.

“It seems you’ve been feeding him well,” Dr. Lawry said condescendingly, taking a seat on my couch after removing his suit jacket. I stood a few feet from Axel, hovering nervously. “You don’t know about the 500-calorie restriction, do you? You’ve single handedly destroyed everything Jomei and I have worked for.” He sighed deeply. “How did you let him get so big, so fast? He’ll have to go down to 400 calories a day and be put on a strict exercise regimen if he’s going to get back down to 230 pounds.”

I was slightly embarrassed, like I had messed up somehow. Axel was such a big man, if he wanted to eat who was I to stop him? I looked over at him on the ground, his belly rising and falling as he breathed deeply. Compared to when we met in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment that first day, he definitely was not his usual 230-pound self. I wondered if Axel even noticed. I think he enjoyed being able to eat whatever he wanted more than getting fat.

“No,” I said angrily. “If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to.”

“If he doesn’t, Doe will never reopen the project. We’re too far in to start on a new specimen.”

“Who gives a fuck? You have destroyed a person’s life. You took his freedom, his sanity.” Lawry was talking about him like he wasn’t a person. Like he was honestly just a project. I looked down at Axel, still asleep. “Why can’t you give him this chance to start fresh?”

“How did you come upon AX3?” he asked me, ignoring my question.

“Mr. Tanaka left me a note asking me to look after his apartment.” I sighed. “So, you’re Dr. Lionel Lawry, I’m assuming.”

“Yes, I am Dr. Lawry,” he confirmed. “And you are?”

“I’m Casey Kirby.”

“AX3 has never been around an African-American for such an extended period. It might be worth getting your testimony about your experience. Was he receptive? Both AX1 and AX2 were also white males. Perhaps that’s where we went wrong.” He was rambling, his mind obviously trying to piece together what factors could improve Axel’s chances of passing the government tests.

“Racism isn’t inherent,” I said. “So, unless you taught him to hate black people, he would treat everyone equally.”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “It would still be worth doing some studies.”

“Why did Axel get so worked up? What did you say to him?”

“It was just an activation phrase. We use it to get him to attack. You see, he was a difficult subject, but the only one which survived. AX1 and AX2 both suffered deaths in training.” He narrowed his eyes on me before speaking again. “To activate the attacks, you must say Perro de Presa Canario. To deactivate them, say Palos Verdes Blue. But that’s all irrelevant to you, Casey Kirby.”

This was much more intense than I could have imagined. I wanted to ask more questions, to voice my opinions on the whole matter, but I couldn’t vocalize anything. My throat was so dry. I wanted a glass of water, but I didn’t want to leave Axel alone with this man.

Dr. Lawry broke the silence. “When can I take him?” he asked, before laughing obnoxiously. “Disregard that, I’m taking him as soon as he wakes up.”

“You can’t take him! We’re—you can’t.” I felt nauseous. He couldn’t take Axel from me. I felt selfish, but I liked having him around, and I wanted to make sure he was happy. Even if we weren’t a couple. Even if being in each other’s lives was only temporary. I had to help him be independent. Had Mr. Tanaka treated him like nothing? Like some simple weapon who didn’t have his own feelings and thoughts?

“You’ve had intercourse?” he asked. “He’s too unstable for that, he could kill you. What if he snapped your neck after ejaculation? Or couldn’t control his sexual urges and raped you?”

“How would you know?” I retorted, blood rushing to my face. “Have you studied his sexual behavior? Did he fuck someone to death? You didn’t even know he wasn’t racist until a few minutes ago, you sorry ass excuse for a scientist.”

“No need to get hostile. I would not know how he responds to sexual intercourse. From what I know he is a virgin. We had him masturbate a few times, as a test, but I do know he’s done it without our asking—each time he seems different afterwards.” He smiled, and it felt very inauthentic. “Do you want to, uh—sleep with him?”

“I think you should leave,” I said. I didn’t like him, not at all. He was a total ass.

“I will. As soon as AX3 wakes up, I will be on my way.” He really thought he was going to take Axel. Well, I wasn’t going to let him. This punk ass dude was getting me more riled up than Jonah ever had.

“His name is Axel, which is what he wants to be called, and he’s not going anywhere with you. And to reiterate, I really think you should leave.”

“I’m not going—” Dr. Lawry started, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Get out,” I shouted. “You have no right to take him. He’s not some piece of property, he’s a person.”

“AX3 is government property. You have no claim on him,” he said. “How do you know he wants to stay here? You don’t.” I hoped he enjoyed staying with me. I had really grown to care about Axel.

“I want to stay here with Casey.” Axel sat up on the floor. I didn’t know he had woken up. “I do not want you bothering Casey ever again. Or me.” He stood up quickly, as did Dr. Lawry, who put on his suit jacket.

“AX3, really, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Dr. Lawry said in a calm tone.

“Now I really think you should leave.” Axel looked at me, still somewhat composed.

“Now AX3, calm down so we can go and—”

“My name is not AX3. My name is Axel.” He was getting angry, his eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “Get out!” He lunged over to Lawry and picked him up again. “You—you and—and Jomei.” 

He made a growling sound. I took it Dr. Lawry had upset him. It seemed like he didn’t know the guidelines either. Axel shook Lionel like it was nothing, throwing him to the ground after a few seconds. He knelt down beside Dr. Lawry and began to punch him in the chest. 

“Stop, Axel no!” He’d kill the elderly man, who didn’t compare even a tad to the durability of my apartment wall. I ran over to them, and Axel pushed me back without much effort. I fell backwards onto the coffee table, breaking two of the legs. He had knocked the wind out of me. Axel looked over at me, his face contorted in anguish. He looked back at Dr. Lawry, who was panting loudly, and jerked him up from the floor, dragging him out of the room towards the front door. Axel stormed back in, his breathing heavy.

“I hurt you,” he lamented, which wasn’t entirely true. For the most part I was fine. He hadn’t caused me any permanent damage. “I am broken. I am stupid.” I was still laying on the broken coffee table. He fell to his knees, and I could feel the floor vibrate from the sudden thud. He leaned forward, crying loudly. “Casey, I am sorry. I am sorry.”

I got to my feet and made my way over to him. I placed a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. “I’m okay Axel, really.”

“I should go with him,” he said. “It is where I belong. I do not belong here. I do not deserve this.” I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, and it didn’t seem like he ever really wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted to help. I wanted him to feel better.

“When—when I’m angry,” I started. “I count backwards from ten, and with each number, I think of something that makes me smile. So, for example, uh, let’s say for the number ten I’d think of teaching you to make a grilled cheese. Remember? You put six whole slices in yours.”

“You were right. It was too much for one sandwich.” He started to soften, his breathing becoming regular once more.

“What’s something you’d use for your number ten?” I asked. He sat up, looking at me. His belly rose and fell with each breath.

“Sleeping in bed with you. That always makes me feel calm. Or how you got me all those cakes today. Or when you taught me to dance to Beyoncé.” I felt my face get really warm, and I wished he didn’t make me feel like this. I didn’t want to abuse the situation. I wanted to just be friends.

“That’s ten, nine, and eight. You’re good at this.” He got to his feet, and now he looked down at me.

“Are you all right?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me into his body. We hadn’t ever hugged like this before, the closest we got to one another was in bed. I could feel his penis against my stomach again, but this time he was definitely hard. I didn’t know what to do.

“When Dr. Lawry asked you if you wanted to have sex with me, you never gave him an answer.” I stood in his arms, completely caught off guard. Had he been awake, listening in? The day we met he barely knew what gum was, but now he was asking me about sex? We'd been watching a lot of TV and movies, some of which did have sexual situations. Axel seemed to have a very large capacity for learning new things. He was always asking questions. He loved when I explained things to him. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I thought.

“If I said yes would it make you uncomfortable?” I asked. He hadn’t initiated anything sexual before. I didn’t know if he was gay. Could he even be gay? Could they have made sure that wouldn’t have happened with some sort of pill?

“No, I do not think it would.” We stood silent, his arms around me. I didn’t want to take advantage of him. He was vulnerable, and he’d been through a lot. If we had met through an app or on the internet, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would have made my move as soon as he let me know it was okay. “I am sorry for getting so angry,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “When that happens, I remember it, but it does not feel like me. Something just takes over.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “How about a snack?” He smiled again and nodded. His leftovers from the coffee shop were a little banged up, but they were still edible. He ate them happily, getting frosting on his nose and lips again. I smiled to myself as I went to get him a paper towel, but the thought of Dr. Lawry’s return weighed heavily on my mind.

I knew Dr. Lawry would be back and I knew he’d be coming for Axel. I had been going to class off and on for over a month. I was still doing my work, making sure to get to campus to turn in papers and other major assignments. Every time I left the house, I feared I’d never see Axel again. That I’d return home to my apartment torn apart and my enormous houseguest nowhere to be found.

“Casey,” Axel called out to me from the kitchen. I’d given my friend an assignment for tomorrow’s class and she had gone home. I made my way to where he was. He sat shirtless at the table with his legs spread apart and his belly bulging out in a heavy sphere, relaxing his stomach muscles after indulging in some cookies we baked earlier in the day. His meaty backside filled up the kitchen chair over capacity.

His back was arched and his meaty pecs, which were covered in a substantial layer of flab, jutted out making him look massive. There was no pretending he was the same size or hiding his belly because it bowed out even when he hadn’t eaten, as rare as that was.

His once thin face had begun to fill out and he started to get a double chin. I noted that his cheeks were very red. It was honestly the first time I ever saw him look embarrassed or nervous. He didn’t seem to ever convey those emotions. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Your face is flushed.”

“I am all right,” he said, much more confidently than he looked. He lifted his bulk up out of the chair and made his way over to me at the counter. He looked down at me, face serious and determined. His belly pressed my body back, my butt up against the counter. His stomach pressing me back like that was so arousing.

“I am going to kiss you,” he said, cheeks rosy. Before I had the chance to reply he pushed his mouth against mine. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. He tasted like gingersnaps. His breathing became heavier and I thought slightly about what Dr. Lawry said, about rape and the neck snapping. I knew that wouldn’t happen. Axel would never do that—ever.

He was so warm. I hadn’t had sex since Jonah, and I wanted nothing more than to give myself to Axel. It had been on my mind ever since that day Dr. Lawry bombarded his way back into Axel’s life. That whole conversation made me confront the possibility of an intimate relationship with Axel.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, at least not with my brain. My dick pressed against my jeans making my pants feel really tight. I knew Axel was turned on too, as I could feel his dick on my stomach. He bit my neck, sucking on it, then covering it with gentle kisses. I moaned loudly, unable to control myself. I grabbed his butt, working my way up his back. He’d have a large V-shape if his love handles didn’t pour away from his body, thick and fleshy. He kissed me on the mouth again.

We moved towards my bedroom, stopping outside of the bathroom. “Can we do something?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said. “But what is in the bathroom?” I directed him to the scale and told him to stand on it. I was curious about how much he could put on in five weeks. Up until this point I had never made him weigh in, but I needed this. “Am—am I in trouble?” he asked, his arms covering his middle. He looked at the scale nervously.

“No, of course not,” I said. This was perverted, and I’d made him uncomfortable. What was up with me? I liked a wide range of male body types, but I’d never been with someone as big as Axel was. There was something so erotic about having seen him grow into the biggest, most muscular man that I’d ever seen. I hadn’t considered that he was self-conscious about his body.

“When I do not do well in the weigh-ins, I do not get to eat for a while.”

“I won’t be upset with what that scale says,” I told him, about to be completely honest with him. “Axel, I—I kind of like it. How big you’ve gotten.” He moved his arms.

“You like it, really?” he asked. “I did a good job?” I smiled awkwardly, nodding my confirmation. He walked over to the scale and stood on it. I hit the floor, so I could read the results. 347 pounds. My penis surged, and I felt a small drip of pre-cum.

I stood up, and he stepped off the scale, smiling at me. I’d never been more turned on in my entire life. I pulled him towards my bedroom, and looking at my queen-sized bed, I found it to be awfully small. He pulled off his cotton shorts, which we had purchased on our second shopping trip, revealing a small purple pair of striped briefs. His thighs looked gigantic, larger than my waist. He could hold up a house with those legs.

His ass was beefy and round, an enhanced version of the butt I saw a little over a month ago. His penis made a significant bulge in the underwear and I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. He removed his briefs at the same time I pulled off mine. I stood closest to the bed and he pushed me back, a bit forcefully.

He straddled me, kissing me hard. His hands pressed against the bed on the opposing sides of my head. His forearms were huge, and I couldn’t believe how firm they looked. He was even more muscular than when we first met, but he didn’t go to the gym or anything. He stopped kissing me, looking at me intensely. Once again, I was seeing a different side to him. He was so fucking hot, his lips parted in lust, his eyes staring at me with desire.

I pushed him off gently and walked towards my dresser. “We need some things,” I said as I rummaged through a drawer. I pulled out some lube and the largest condom I had. I had to help him put it on. He said it tickled. Leave it to him to say a condom tickled. I lubed up his dick as well as my hole. I told him what to do and he placed his sizable penis near my ass.

He slid in faster than I would have anticipated, and I gasped loudly. “Are you okay Casey?” he asked.

“Keep going,” I said, face down on the bed. He thrust his ample hips and held onto me with his big, manly hands. He went harder and harder and I thought of what Mr. Lawry said again. Harder. He grunted, his breathing deep. I just hoped I wasn’t too loud, not wanting to alarm him. Harder. Cum shot from my penis in what felt like an eternal stream. I’d never come from just anal before, and definitely not so fast. He was better than—what was his name? Joseph? Johan? Who cared! Axel was still going, and he was getting a little more aggressive. One last grunt and he came. We laid next to one another.

“I love you, Casey,” he said with all the feeling in the world I almost started bawling. “I never knew I could feel this happy.”

“I–I love you too, Axel.” He grabbed me, spooning me. His belly pressed against my firm body. I was still hard, and he was too.

“I did not hurt you,” he said, his face conveying a large, proud smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was a bit rough. Hell, I kind of liked it.

“You didn’t,” I confirmed, returning the smile. He asked me when we could do that again. I laughed and told him soon. I needed at least a couple hours before I’d be able to go again.

It was a night about a week after we’d had sex and it was late. Axel stood up and looked around, wearing a pair of black short-shorts and a white t-shirt. He walked out of the room.

It didn’t appear to be his typical late-night snack or something of that nature. Something had worried him. I stood up too, waiting for him to reenter. I heard the front door slam, and I ran into the hallway, putting on my glasses.

“Axel, is everything all right? Who was at the door?” He was on the ground, doubled over in pain. I saw Dr. Lawry and a small Asian man—Jomei Tanaka. Dr. Lawry held a very large needle in his hands, and it appeared he’d already injected Axel with something.

“How did you get in here? Get out!” I shouted. Axel groaned, still on the floor. I walked towards him and he stood, straightening up. His shirt was ripping at the arms. He was larger, even more so than usual. “Axel, a–are you okay?”

“AX3,” Dr. Lawry said, smirking, “I would like you to fight Casey Kirby.” Axel ripped the shirt open, throwing the tattered remains to the floor. His belly was rounded out, with a slight happy trail. It was large, but perfectly in proportion with his large arms and legs. He walked towards me and I noticed the aggressive stride. I stepped back. He took a swipe at me, but I ducked. I stumbled into the kitchen and fell back. He kicked me in the side, and like that day he pushed me onto the coffee table, it knocked the air out of me. My glasses had fallen off my face.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted at the pair. They had followed the two of us into the kitchen, looking on at us—at Axel trying to kill me.

“AX3, a moment please.” Axel stood up straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. “Well, first off, I would like to thank you Mr. Kirby for looking after my things for me.” This was Lieutenant General Tanaka. He didn’t speak with a thick Japanese intonation like I thought he would, but instead with a New York accent.

“Fuck you,” I said, shaking. “Just get out of here. Just leave us alone.”

“I’m sorry, but that is not possible.” He smiled sympathetically, and it was much more believable than Dr. Lawry’s fake-ass grins. “However, to answer your first question, I have given AX3 a drug Dr. Lawry and I have been working on for the last month. We have hardly slept trying to hurry and get AX3 out of your hair.”

“He wants to be here, and I have no problem letting him stay,” I said pleadingly. Were they going to have Axel kill me? I stood up, finally better able to breath.

“You see,” Dr. Lawry interjected. “He lacked the ability to take direction. Not anymore.” He smiled. “He’s perfect—well, almost. He appears to have eaten his old self. Though, some of his growth seems to be the doing of the injection. That was unforeseen.” He chuckled.

“He’s gotten too big. You can just let him stay here.” Both men laughed. “I’m serious. I already know Doe ended the project. She doesn’t want him anymore. Just change him back and leave. Please.” I was standing near the drawers in my kitchen, butt against the counter.

“We’re sorry, but we can’t do that.” Tanaka looked from me to Axel, a slight frown on his face.

“AX3, you need to knock Casey Kirby unconscious,” Dr. Lawry commanded. Axel walked over to me. I pulled out a knife from one of the drawers.

“Axel,” I said, knife shaking. “Don’t do this. This isn’t you. You’re better than this.” My side hurt from the kick. He grabbed my wrist. His breathing was deep, and I saw his substantial belly shaking. He squeezed harder and I dropped the knife. His other hand around my neck, he lifted me off of the ground.

I was starting to cry; the life being choked out of me. He walked me over to a wall and set me down. I think my wrist was broken. He looked down at me, his face cold. With his massive hand, he grabbed the side of my head. Those electric eyes I had looked into a million times were so cold. They were the last thing I remembered seeing before he slammed my head against the wall.

When I woke up my head hurt, but thankfully it wasn’t too severe. It was early, maybe about five in the morning, but I wasn’t sure at all. The room I was in was very bright, fluorescent bulbs humming above me. I was laying down on the floor of a large cage. I could hear Tanaka and Lawry talking. “We took the boy from his apartment Lionel, now what? You really think we have to kill him?”

“Of course we have to kill him,” Lawry said. “He knows too much. We could never let him live with all this information. Imagine what AX3 has told him.”

“When will we make contact with Doe?” Tanaka asked.

“We’ll run a few more tests, making sure AX3 is entirely obedient, and then we’ll reach out to her. This has to be perfect Jomei. It’s the only way this will work.”

“AX3,” Lawry called. I sat up, looking out at the three of them across the room. Everything was slightly blurry without my glasses. “You must go over to that cage and kill Casey Kirby. Do you understand what I am asking?”

“I am to kill Casey Kirby.”

“Proceed,” Dr. Lawry said.

“I can’t watch this,” Tanaka said, standing. “It’s too much for me.”

“Sit, Jomei,” Lawry said. “This is a perfect test to see what AX3 is capable of. I will need your evaluation of the situation to get the best possible analysis.” I could hear Axel making his way over to where I was being held. I looked around, no potential weapons in sight. Part of me felt that this was karma. I should’ve never had sex with him. The universe was punishing me for taking advantage of him.

He reached the door of the cage and opened it, stooping down so he could enter. He was still in nothing but the black shorts. His thighs bulged with muscle and their size was intimidating. The shorts looked almost painted on. His biceps were unreal, as was the thickness of his neck. How much did he weigh now? Would he use the strength of his legs to smash my head in? Or maybe he’d simply snap my neck. He grabbed my legs and dragged me to the center of the room. I could see Tanaka and Lawry watching intensely.

I flipped over to my back. Looking up at Axel, it was almost like taking in a mythical giant. “Axel, please,” I begged. “You’ve got to snap out of it.” He crouched down over me, grabbing me by my shirt, and slammed me into the concrete. I didn’t want to die like this. I didn’t want Axel to lose his freedom. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

“I love you,” I said, finally crying.

“Ten,” he said, still crouching over me. “Sleeping in bed with Casey.”

“What in the hell is he talking about?” Dr. Lawry yelled.

“Nine. Baking cookies with Casey. Eight. When Casey smiles it makes me smile.” I was still crying, completely dumbfounded by what was happening. He remembered what I told him. He was controlling his anger.

“AX3, kill Casey Kirby. Now!” Axel balled his fist up, punching me in the face, though it probably was not as hard as he could’ve done it. I felt my mouth fill with blood, and it spilled out over the side of my lips.

“What’s number seven?” I asked, hopeful the Axel I’d grown to love was fighting his way out from the controls of whatever poison Lawry had injected him with.

“Seven. Watching funny movies with Casey. Six. Going shopping with Casey. Five. Accidentally ripping my pants and Casey laughing.” He stood up, helping me to my feet. Dr. Lawry and Mr. Tanaka were absolutely in shock. They’d been so sure they perfected their formula.

“This is a failure, Lionel.” Tanaka stood.

“Attack!” Lawry shouted. “You worthless garbage, attack!”

“Four. Dancing with Casey. Three. Having sex with Casey. Two. Hugging and kissing Casey.” Dr. Lawry ran over to where Axel stood. “One. Casey saying that he loves me.”

“You listen to me, you big idiot. You really think this little faggot is going to care for you for the rest of your miserable life. I have raised you since birth. I have given you everything you’ve needed, and you have yet to yield any results for me.” He turned towards me. He had finally lost it. His years of research had ended, and he had basically nothing to show for it. I pitied him, but I also hated him. He wasn’t working with robotics or plants. This was a human being he’d tried to play God with.

“You have ruined everything,” he spat at me, slapping me across the face. There was a moment of silence, and suddenly Axel grabbed Dr. Lawry, and in one swift twist of his arms he snapped his neck. I jumped back at the sound, in disbelief. He walked towards Mr. Tanaka, who back peddled, trying to get away from Axel.

“Axel, no!” I screamed. He stopped walking and looked back at me. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everything is okay. You don’t have to hurt Tanaka.”

“AX3, come here.” He walked over to Mr. Tanaka. “You too, Mr. Kirby.” I walked around Dr. Lawry’s body, feeling slightly queasy. “I think it is time to admit that this project has come to an end. It was doomed the day AX1 died. Regarding your weight, you’ll likely level out and begin to gain weight more normally. At what size that is I am uncertain. On the mice we ran trials with, they often doubled their body weight before they began to process calories normally again.”  

“Okay,” Axel said, holding me upright.

“And AX3—Axel, I mean, we have no antidote for what we gave you, and its effects have not been thoroughly tested.”

“Meaning what?” I asked.

“Meaning if you truly want to take him with you, there are some uncertainties that you will have to face.”

“He can stay with me?” I asked, relieved. I wasn’t so sure what Tanaka was saying was true. He could be biding his time, waiting to gather reinforcements to better control Axel. It was so obvious he was just trying to not meet the same fate as Dr. Lawry.

Tanaka went over to his briefcase, returning with an envelope. “Take this. It contains his birth certificate, social security card, and other government papers.”

“You’re serious?” I questioned.

“Yes, I’m sorry for the trouble. I regret having gotten you involved.” He looked from me to Axel nervously. “And I am sorry for this, amongst everything else, but I have to make sure I leave here in one piece—Palos Verde Blue!” Axel hit the ground. I watched as Jomei Tanaka grabbed his few belongings and rushed from the laboratory.

This chapter in Axel’s life had finally come to a close, at least for now—hopefully forever. I held onto the envelope containing his documentation and smiled. My neck was sore. I sat on the floor next to Axel and rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was even and steady. I was so relieved.

Whenever he came to, we’d find our way out of this warehouse and back to my apartment. I’d ace all my finals and we’d celebrate with a large dinner. He’d meet my mom and dad and all of my friends. I’d finish college and help Axel get started in school or a job. We’d be together, and things would be okay. I would never feel inadequate again.

I was glad I found him chewing on all of my peach bubble gum, naked, and as weird as the project he had been a part of.

The End!

[originalfatfiction]

Mason's Gain

Mason Megalos had been my best friend for over a decade when everything fell apart. I still hadn’t gotten over how suddenly we went our separate ways. Like many sexually confused adolescents, I had fallen in love with my best friend. We were both boys, and I had come to realize my love for him was one of the worst things that could have ever happened. I heard how other guys talked. I knew that liking Mason wasn’t something I could act on. 

We’d been about a month into our freshman year when I felt him slipping away from me. He had joined the football team and started hanging out with a bunch of his misogynistic, homophobic, and slightly racist teammates. Most people would say these guys were harmless, but I knew that the longer Mason hung around them, the more influence they’d have over his ideologies. He was being brainwashed! I had to win him back over from the dark side.  

Mason wasn’t a hateful person, and I was determined to come out to him before it was too late. I trusted him more than anybody in the whole world; I genuinely believed with every fiber of my being that we’d be able to work through my teeny-tiny crush on him (okay, so maybe it wasn’t the teeniest or the tiniest, and I was a hundred percent head-over-heels in love with him, but I digress). I figured he’d reject me amiably and we could continue our friendship, but unforeseen circumstances had prohibited my confession indefinitely. 

We’d been at my house. I had been avoiding coming out to him, as there was always something stopping me. The reasons were always stupid, like the fact there was an X-Men movie marathon coming on TV and we just had to watch it together. Like many high school aged boys, Mason sometimes referred to stuff as gay, in reference to things he considered stupid or slightly feminine. It had gotten way worse since he’d been hanging around his new friends. At one point he said it about some commercial on the TV. I felt that anxious feeling I often got, but this time I didn’t let it stop me. 

 “Mason, I’m gay,” I’d told him. I blurted it out, really. It wasn’t my finest moment; it wasn’t what I’d practiced a million times in the bathroom mirror. 

He looked at me for a while, assessing me, and then he got up and left. With no words of encouragement or disapproval. 

October 11, 2008 would forever be ingrained in my mind as the day Mason walked out of my life and never looked back. I’d really thought he was different. I’d really thought that I could tell him about my authentic self. I had never even got to mention the fact that I had a crush on him, which was probably for the best. 

He hadn’t been the person I thought he was.  

If losing Mason as a friend wasn’t bad enough, I was now still dealing with the repercussions of coming out. It had been three years since then.

Yes, three years of Mason’s new friend group taking every possible opportunity to terrorize me for being gay. They’d beat me up from time to time, throw slurs at me, or make homophobic jokes knowing there was nothing I could do or say to stop them. I didn’t want to make excuses for Mason, because the fact he had been such a terrible friend was inexcusable, but he never directly harassed me like his underlings; he just sort of had dominion over them, which was slightly less awful. Seriously, I think it was worth something that he never beat me up or said anything mean to me (at least not to my face). It was easier to handle his passive attitude in regard to my situation.

Those dumb jocks and future gas station attendants all looked to Mason for approval. He’d become their God—the coolest, the most handsome, the almighty. I bet if he stood up for me at least once, my days at school would go a lot smoother. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t let go of my idealized version of him. I told myself he didn’t mean what he did or said. I told myself that there was still good in him. Even though it killed me to hear him laugh when his friends called me a fag or a homo, I believed Mason didn’t really think I was disgusting.

I still thought he was attractive. It wasn’t like I was blind. We might not have been best friends anymore, but I lusted after him just the same as I had before. Mason had an olive complexion and it always seemed like he was glowing, like he was an angel or something. Mason’s parents were Greek, having moved to America before he was born. He had this curly brown hair that he took excellent care of now that he was older (when we were younger it was always messy). His eyes were green. His lips were full. He had the most beautiful smile. It was almost the most attractive thing about him.

The most attractive thing about Mason was his butt. He had the best ass I’d ever seen. It’s what I always looked at when I could take a clandestine glance. I had looked at his butt so frequently, I could probably pick it out of a police lineup.

“Yes Officer,” I’d say. “Butt number three is Mason’s. The sheer size of the cheeks makes it obvious, and the dimples on his lower back are also a dead giveaway.”

 He was taller than me, and he definitely had to be over six feet by now. I was 5’9” and weighed only about 160 pounds. Mason on the other hand had really buffed up in our years distanced from one another; I would have to guess he was around 200 pounds. He’d been a pudgy kid, but when he joined the football team freshman year, they worked all of his extra weight into muscle. Seeing him change so much really stung, not having gotten the chance to change along with him.

I had to continuously remind myself that none of these things mattered anymore. He could be extraordinarily hot with the best ass in the entire country, but that didn’t change the fact that he hated me for something I couldn’t control. He abandoned a valuable friendship and allowed others to belittle me. My mom had told me growing up, in a somewhat blunt way I’d grown used to, “Not everybody is your friend. Sometimes people can surprise you in the worst ways possible.” I never, and I mean never, thought my mother’s pessimistic wisdom would apply to my relationship with Mason.

We were about two months into senior year, and today in English IV, the last class of the day, I noticed Mason talking to a troll named Bret Phelps. This guy was possibly the worst of the group. The others just called me names, having grown tired of wasting energy beating me up, but he felt compelled to hunt me down and physically assault me every other day. I made my way to my locker as quickly as I could and made a mad dash for my bike. 

Today I was going to make it.

I was trying to be positive, which wasn’t always easy. It was a quality I admired in others, so I tried my best to emulate that positivity. I was determined to hold my head up high and to be optimistic. I knew things would one day get better, even if I had to put up with Mason’s posse until graduation. 

Today I wasn’t going to get punched anywhere on my body.  

 I approached the bike rack quickly, wanting to make it off campus unscathed. The closer I got to where the bikes were housed, the more noticeable was the form of a guy leaning casually on an adjoining pillar.

It was Bret. Damn.

He had to have forgone stopping at his locker. He’d come directly here after the bell rang to wait for me. He must have really been in a sour mood if he wanted to catch me so badly.

I had to be strong. Even if I wanted to whine and cry and beg for him to leave me alone, I couldn’t. I refused to give him or any of his asshole friends the satisfaction of breaking me down. I was immune to this. I just had to accept my beating and he’d move on. At first, I fought hard every single time, but he’d still pummel me. That was when I came to realize that if I didn’t show emotion, he’d give me a swift punch in the gut and go about his day. I wasn’t going to give the sadist the pleasure he oh so desired. It wasn’t fun fighting someone who didn’t react. 

“Hello Oliver,” he said, smiling. His front tooth was slightly chipped, and I hoped it was from someone punching him in the mouth. “You were like the first one out of class. I hope you didn’t think you were going to miss me today.” He was shorter than Mason but taller than I was. He was a stocky guy, and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be willing to admit that he was almost-maybe-possibly attractive.

 “Hey Bret,” I said in an even tone, keeping my head down, not making eye contact. “I really have to get going.” 

“This isn’t going to take long.” 

He walked towards me. I closed my eyes and tensed my ab muscles waiting for him to sock me in the stomach.

“I’ll handle him today.”

It was Mason’s voice. I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a deep breath and relaxing my abs. Was he going to start beating me up too? I didn’t think I could handle it if he decided he was so disgusted by me that he had to resort to physical violence.

 “Yeah, okay Mason,” Bret said, reverting to his beta-male status. “You’ve got to make sure you get him in the gut, just like he likes it.” With that, Bret walked off, glad to be told what to do—but not before punching me in the arm as hard as he could.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my arm as I made my way over to my bike. I kneeled down and began putting in the combo for my bike lock.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, like he’d done me the biggest favor. 

I looked up at him from the ground, and he looked like a giant. I felt really nostalgic looking up at him. Mason used to fight people for saying that I was gay. He used to defend my honor like I was a high society lady in a Victorian romance novel. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a regular human being who made stupid human being decisions. I had to stop romanticizing the present with memories of the past.

I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. Why was he still standing there? I wanted him to leave so I wouldn’t have to feel so on edge.

“You want a ride home?” he asked.

Was he being for real? He only ever talked to me in class, and that was if it was mandated by the teacher. Now he was offering me a ride home? I wanted to say something biting and sarcastic, but nothing good would come from it. That wasn’t who I was or who I wanted to be. I did my best to push through the bitter feelings.

“No,” I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to be. I didn’t want to sound upset or anything, but I was struggling to temper out my emotions. “I have my bike.” 

This was the first time in a long time I was alone with him. It made me think of that day in October three years ago when everything changed. I hated how this was forcing me to recollect our final moments together as best friends.

“We can put it in the back,” he said matter-of-factly. I knew he was talking about his Jeep, but I still pictured his ass.

I was silent again, and he just smiled at me, like he knew I was going to accept his offer. This was how things had been in elementary school, middle school. He’d always been able to charm me into doing whatever he wanted. Even now as he began to saunter off, expecting me to follow, I couldn’t stop myself from bending to his will.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the student parking lot.

“Yeah okay, sure,” I mumbled, internally berating myself for being so easily swayed by him.

I followed him over to his Jeep. It was an older model, some of the burgundy paint peeling off. The inside smelled like he did; I took multiple deep breaths. He still remembered how to get to my house. The trip was for the most part silent, which gave me time to run scenarios, and they all ended badly, with some terrible prank that would awaken my latent telekinetic powers akin to my homegirl Carrie White. 

“Casa de Bailey.” 

I felt myself jump slightly, having been lost in my Stephen King fantasies.  

“Thanks,” I said, hopping out of the passenger’s side. 

I put my bag on and walked towards the rear of the Jeep. I didn’t think he’d get out of the car, but he met me at the back and removed my bike for me. As he set it down on the pavement, I took in how strong his arms looked and how the sleeves of his t-shirt were being eaten by their size. He had biceps. He had triceps. If there were any other muscles in the upper arm, he had those too. 

“Can I ask you something?” What could he want to ask me? He’d probably request that I transfer schools so he wouldn’t have to look at his loser ex-best friend anymore. 

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, not knowing where this was going and not really wanting to find out. “You can come inside.” I started around back to put away my bike; he followed. I put my bike in the garage and unlocked the back door. I walked up the three steps into the kitchen and offered him something to drink.

“Milk, if you have it.” I poured him a large glass and he began to gulp it down. He was so white, drinking milk like it was actually good. I used to give him such a hard time about it. “Thanks,” he said, wiping away a milk mustache with his forearm.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” I was curious, seeing as we hadn’t really spoken in years. 

“Oh yeah,” he said. I took in his thick eyebrows, which were furrowed in seriousness. I wanted to stroke his brows with my fingers, to feel his face in my hands. I bet his skin was soft. He frowned and it made me a little worried. 

“What?” I asked. “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I still cared about him and his well-being. Maybe it was idiotic of me to still be so devoted to a person that ignored my sufferings, and maybe I should have ignored Mason in return, but my gut instinct was to be concerned.

“Here’s the thing,” he started, “I’m kind of failing English and I was wondering if you could help me out. Bret and the other guys are barely passing, and you’re so smart, I figured you’d be the best person to tutor me.” He paused for a moment, glancing at me. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“That I’m helping you or that you’re failing English?” I asked, to clarify. 

“Both,” he blurted out quickly. 

We stood in an awkward silence. I felt my face go hot and was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t want people to know he was even interacting with me. It was kind of degrading, and I needed to have some self-worth and tell him that I had more value than that. That was what I should’ve done, but I was weak, and he was hot.

“Okay,” I said like a dope. I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks dude,” he said, a sound of relief in his voice. “You good to meet here after school?”

“Yeah, like what, Tuesdays and Thursdays?” 

“Nah, every day. At least until I get my grade up. My parents lost their shit when they got my progress report.” Every day? That was going to take up a lot of time, and I may not have had much else to do, but I couldn’t believe he just imposed his own tutoring schedule on me. 

“Yeah,” I said, even more like a dope. “No problem.”

“Well, I have to go,” he said suddenly. I turned to get the milk, ready to offer him another glass of moo juice, but he was gone out of the back door before I could get the words out.  

“See you later,” I said aloud to myself, putting the milk back in the fridge. 

If I put my self-respect and righteous anger aside, this was fantastic. I’d get to talk to Mason every day. I’d get to look at his gorgeous face and body every day. I’d get to imagine, even though it was ridiculous, that we were still best friends. He had come to me for help. That just proved that there was still a connection between us. Maybe, in his own odd way, Mason was trying to rekindle our friendship.

I had noticed in the previous weeks that he looked bigger than usual. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but being able to look at him without having to avert my eyes confirmed it. 

He was growing. 

I’d heard he quit the football team. Everyone had heard he’d quit the team. It was the hottest gossip for the entire first month of school. I knew he still exercised, having heard him mention to Bret he worked out with his uncle every night, trying to get into powerlifting. I didn’t know what that entailed, but it sure sounded like something I wanted to see. I was getting an erection just thinking about Mason possibly getting a bit of a belly to go along with the sheer size he was already putting on. 

I realized I’d been keeping tabs on him without really meaning to. If his name was brought up, I listened. I was still invested in his life, and this new arrangement was going to potentially put me in a dangerous situation.

The fact he’d be coming over again tomorrow got me feeling nervous. I didn’t want things to feel awkward. I wanted to do something nice for him to show I wasn’t holding a grudge or anything (even if I was still a little pissed at him). All hadn’t been forgiven, but maybe this was the start to an important conversation. 

I decided to go shopping for some snacks. He’d always been a big eater, and he’d probably need some brain food if we were to be studying. He liked potato chips and submarine sandwiches.

(“You gotta really pack on the ingredients,” he’d told me when we were younger. “I’m talking about a ridiculous amount of meat and cheese. Oil, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.”  

I stared in astonishment at the monstrous sandwich he had constructed. It looked big enough to feed three people. This was a sandwich Scooby and Shaggy would excitedly devour. 

“You really think you can eat all of that?” I asked.

“You don’t think I can Oli?” he asked, smirking. 

“I think you can. You can do anything!”

“That’s right,” he said. “You wanna watch demolish this thing?” 

“Yeah,” I said, feeling oddly attracted to him in that moment. It was a moment that definitely raised a red flag for me. Why had I been so invested in his display of gluttony?

He finished that entire sub and a bag of family sized chips. His dad came home after a long day of work looking for the ingredients to make himself a sandwich. “Where’s the deli meat?” Mr. Megalos asked in his Greek accent.

“I ate it all, Dad,” Mason replied, not even embarrassed. Mr. Megalos playfully smacked Mason on the back of the head before sending us to the store to buy some more turkey breast. Mason used the change to buy us a package of oatmeal cream pies. Before I even got the chance to have a second one, he’d eaten the rest of them on our walk home. 

I was glad that he did.)

The next day at school I really wanted to talk to Mason, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I waited the day out and went to get my bike. Mason, not Bret, was leaning on the pillar near the bike rack.

“Hello,” I said, a little bit uneasy. He probably didn’t want my help anymore. He probably realized he could find someone else to tutor him. 

“What’s up, Oli?” he asked, smiling like everything was normal between us. Nobody called me Oli anymore. Just hearing him say my name with a smile on his face was enough to give me the vapors. I felt like flinging myself into his muscled arms, swooning.

“Nothing much.” I smiled back at him nervously. “I’m still meeting you at my house, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He looked at me seriously. My heart must have skipped a beat. “I told Bret to back off. If he fucks with you again, just let me know. Got it?” 

 “Ye—yeah,” I stammered. “Thanks a lot.” He was so hot when he was serious. He furrowed his brow in a way that made him look slightly angry. I bet he’d make a similar face while having sex.

“See you soon,” he said, swaggering off towards where his car was parked. I took in his wide back and beefy behind. He didn’t even carry a bookbag; he just had a folder, a couple of notebooks, and the novel we were reading in class. This was probably why he was failing.   

I unlocked my bike, mounted it, and rode off towards home. Relief swept over me at the thought of being Bret-free. I continued to pedal and felt myself come alive. I loved riding my bike; I was pretty fit because of it, with muscular thighs and a firm, round ass. My ass was definitely a first runner up to Mason’s glorious cakes. It was nearing the end of October and when it started to snow, I would have to swap my tires for better traction. I thought about Mason on the ride home and what I wanted to do to him. I hated wanting him so badly, but I loved it at the same time. Crushes were so weird that way. It was starting to consume me, yet I didn’t really mind it.  

He was sitting on the front steps when I got there.

“Oli,” he said, standing to meet me at the path to the backyard. He had his hand in his shirt, scratching his tummy. He moved his hand away. “Why don’t you have a car?” His voice was getting to me. I missed hearing his voice more than I realized.

“I can’t afford a nice Jeep like you,” I said a little sarcastically. He laughed, catching my slight insult to the Jeep that had once belonged to Mr. Megalos. It was given to Mason for his birthday last year. I remembered Mr. Megalos driving us to elementary school in that thing, so to see Mason driving it now was kind of funny. “You know it’s just me and my mom.”

“You could get a job,” he suggested. “There are lots of cheap cars. I’d help you look for one.” Mason had always liked cars and that sort of thing. His dad and Uncle Galvin owned an auto shop that Mason helped out in. Galvin was the same uncle he’d been working out with.

“I live like eight blocks from the school and I never go anywhere,” I said, feeling more at ease the longer we were around one another. “But if I ever do start looking for a car, I’d hope the offer would still stand.”

“Of course,” he said. “Consider it payment for your services.” I had put my bike away during our conversation. I opened the back door, and we went inside. 

“You can go up to my room,” I said. He knew the way.

I walked over to the fridge and looked at the array of supplies I’d picked up yesterday. I’d gone overboard for sure, but I removed the ingredients and placed them on the counter. I bought provolone cheese, turkey breast, and honey roasted ham. I’d even gone so far as to buy hoagie rolls and herb-seasoned submarine oil. I stuffed those hoagie rolls full of meat and cheese and veggies, just like I knew he liked his sandwiches—at least I knew he liked them this way years ago. I cut them in half and placed them on a plate, pouring some original flavored Ruffles in a bowl. I also put half a sleeve of Oreos on a separate plate and poured two glasses of milk. 

I carried the tray carefully as I made my way up the stairs to my room. Entering, I saw he was sitting at my desk, holding a photo of us at the beach when we were in the seventh grade. I walked over to him and set the tray down next to him on my desk.

“You still have this?” he asked, smiling. I looked over at the picture in his hand. His arm was around my shoulder and we both smiled wide at the camera. He had always been taller than I was, and this was before he lost his baby fat.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. I felt lame all of a sudden, still holding on to something he probably considered a piece of junk. “Could you please put it down?” 

The frame was even more special than the photograph; Mason had made it for me, painting the phrase “Best Buds” in big, sloppy letters on the bottom, seashells and starfish glued all around the rest of the frame. He had burned his fingers so badly using the hot glue gun he wore bandages for a week. I remember how proud he was of his craftsmanship.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. He carefully put the picture frame back in its place before picking up a cookie, popping the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you all tense.” 

“I’m not tense,” I said, sounding incredibly tense. He chewed, smirking slightly. I needed to get a grip. I was going to ruin everything if I didn’t chill out. I took a deep breath. “I thought a small snack would help you focus better.”

“This is a small snack?” he asked.

“I just—I remembered you had a big appetite.”

“You remembered right,” he said, reaching for one of the sandwich halves and taking a colossal bite. I felt even more embarrassed. Did he remember anything about me? Did he ever think about me at all?

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“You know Oli,” he started, his mouth half full. “I never stopped eating big, but I’ve definitely kicked it into overdrive since quitting football. If I don’t slow down, I’m gonna get fat again like in that photo.” His free hand absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach. It was like he was toying with me. He took another large bite of the sandwich. “I already eat like garbage, but I started a bulking cycle recently, really pushing myself to put on some mass. I think I’ve already put on ten pounds.” Ten pounds was kind of a lot, seeing as he had quit the football team only a little over a month ago.

“You—you carry the weight well,” I said, aroused. “You don’t look fat to me.” He had finished his first half and grabbed another.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, grabbing his slightly protruding paunch and shaking the small bit of belly he was sporting. “I eat way too much Oli.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, trying not to discourage a habit I wanted him to continue.

“Get this, I ordered two large pizzas from Domino’s the other weekend and finished both of them. It was one of those deals where you save a ton of money if you get the two larges. I’m a sucker for deals like that.”

“Who isn’t?” I asked, watching him alternate between bites of the sandwich and the potato chips.

“When I got to the last slice, I was pissed. I wasn’t even full.”

“Wow Mason,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “When you put it like that, it does sound like a lot.”

“I was lucky my mom had made two trays of pastitsio the night before.” He lifted his shirt and showed me his belly, feeling the need to prove to me that he was indeed packing on the pounds. He was kind of hairy, and I liked it. He grabbed at his tummy with his strong hands, shaking it again, uncovered. I just wanted to feel his stomach in my own hands. I needed to know what it felt like. “This gut is brought to you by pastitsio, pizza, and protein shakes.”

He left his shirt up as he reached for another portion of the sandwich. I watched from my bed with my legs closed tight, as he bit, chewed, and swallowed, repeating the process until he moved on to the next serving. His large hands made those hefty sandwiches look like dainty finger food at a garden party. He pulled at his t-shirt, covering himself.

“You don’t wanna see that,” he said, laughing, his cheeks reddening slightly. He grabbed a handful of the salty chips and shoved them into his mouth. I imagined his hands grabbing a handful of my ass.

I didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through these tutoring sessions. He was pornographic. I was rock hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I was hoping I’d soften up enough before I had to stand. He kept going and going until he was chugging the glasses of milk. Only a couple of cookies remained on the plate.

“How—uh, how much do you weigh?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. You got a scale?”

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” I said, affirming that I had one.

“Let’s do this,” he said, standing. I wiggled a little before getting up, making sure to minimize the obviousness of the boner in my pants. When I was out of sight, I took the time to tuck my penis into the waistband of my underwear, so it was angled upwards, and the front of my pants was flat. I brought the scale from my bathroom, praying he hadn’t noticed I was still semi-erect.

“How much did you weigh?” I asked.

“207 pounds at the pre-season weigh-in back in August,” he said, walking towards where I placed the scale in the middle of my bedroom. I sat on my knees near where the number would be displayed. He stepped on the scale and I glanced at the reading. “What’s the damage?” he asked, standing perfectly still.

“Well, um—that’s something.”

“How much?”

“Maybe this thing is busted, but it says you weigh 226 pounds.” My dick throbbed as I said it. What was so hot about Mason putting on weight like this? It wasn’t just muscle that turned me on, but also fat. I hoped his bulking cycle never ended.

“Shit,” he said, his tone surprised yet slightly satisfied. “I’m gonna be huge if I don’t start slowing down with all this eating.” I swallowed, hard.

I couldn’t help him study today. I’d get better at putting up with his natural eroticism, but today couldn’t be helped. He needed to leave before I came in my pants. I could feel pre-cum starting to coat the lower half of my stomach.

“I’m not feeling good all of a sudden,” I said. Mason stepped off of the scale. I couldn’t think straight, and I was for sure too turned on to focus.

“Really, why?” he asked.

“Like I just got a headache out of nowhere.” I was going to cum any second. It’d take me five strokes tops with how I was feeling, but I knew I’d want to go again immediately.

“Oh shit,” he said, picking up his stack of materials. “You gonna be okay?”

“I probably just need to take some Tylenol and get a nap in before it gets too late.”

“Okay.” He grabbed the rest of the Oreos. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Did I mind? Of course I didn’t mind. I was apparently some sort of freak who wanted him eating constantly. “No, go ahead,” I said. He smiled at me appreciatively before popping one of the cookies in his mouth. I walked him to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

I ran back upstairs and got undressed. I stepped onto the scale, which was still in the middle of my bedroom floor. I weighed myself: 159 pounds.

Mason was 67 pounds bigger than I was. I ran my hand over the shaft of my penis. I gave it one pump, two pumps. Fuck, I was picturing his gut in his hands. Three pumps, Four pumps. He had eaten everything on that tray. I pictured Mason getting bigger and beefier. That’s what did it; I came in thick spurts all over myself.

Tomorrow was going to be tough.

It didn’t get any easier controlling my sexual compulsions when Mason came by for tutoring. It had been two weeks since he first asked for my assistance, and I helped him with his papers and worksheets. We also spent time reading. He was so damn cute. He’d whisper things to himself about what was happening in whatever he was annotating. I had heard him say “no way” or “what” at least once per chapter.

I thought this stuff was all really easy, and I was shocked at how he let his grade fall so low in less than two months of school. He must not have done any type of work for this class until now. I considered the fact that he had a social life and lots of friends to distract him from school. I, on the other hand, spent my free time making flashcards and watching reruns of Chopped and Good Eats. Mason had always been the largest component of my social life, so when he went away, so did any potential high school social plans.

Each study visit I always had a tray with different types of snacks. I kept in mind that Mason was a big eater, and the portions remained hearty and plentiful. It was a Friday study session with an essay due on Monday.

“I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow, maybe even Sunday.” He laughed. “I’m totally hopeless.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, being stereotypically positive. “I think you’re doing great. Did you ask Mr. Gonzalez what your grade was?” He asked every Friday.

“D-plus,” he said with his typical furrowed brow. He sighed and began tossing books into his bag (which I told him he needed to start carrying). I stood silent for a moment, contemplating what I should say. “If he wasn’t such a dick and took late work, I wouldn’t have to stress so hard over this.” I wanted to make him feel like the work he was doing was valuable. I saw that he was improving; I just wished he could see it too.

“You’ve got to think about it like you’re lifting weights, you know? You could barely lift anything at the start, but with hard work and dedication you can lift things you never thought possible. You had a thirty percent two weeks ago, and you’re telling me you’ve been able to get that up over a sixty-five? Just imagine where you’ll be in just one more week, a month from now, even. You’ll have the buffest, strongest grade ever.”

“You think so?” he mused. He sat silently for a moment as he pondered what I had just said. He smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thanks Oliver.”

He lifted his hulking frame out of my desk chair and strode over to where I stood. He wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a bear hug. I could feel my entire body tingle in pleasure as I felt Mason for the first time in forever. I didn’t dare ruin it by trying to hug him back. My hands at my side, I could feel his warmth, I could smell the chips he ate and the aftershave he wore. They mixed together in a scent that was uniquely Mason. His arms were so solid, as was his slight gut. It was so brief, but it made me the happiest guy in the world. “You have always been the smartest person I know.”

“Thanks—thanks a lot.” He let me go and grabbed his bag. “Do you think you might want something more substantial to eat tomorrow or just a snack? I could definitely make you a meal if you wanted.”

I was doing way too much. The snacks were one thing, completely hospitable, but now I was offering to make him dinner? Did Bret do things like this for him? His other football friends? I was not being very hetero.

“Really?” he asked, shockingly excited. “Do you remember in sixth grade when you wanted to be a chef?” I spent that entire year working through a kid-friendly cookbook. I even started going off-script, coming up with some of my own recipes (though they were just derivative of other things I’d learned from the cookbook). I doubted Mason knew he was the reason I wanted to learn how to cook.  

“Yeah,” I said. “I cooked a different recipe every day for like nine months. You ate dinner at our house every other day before eating the dinner your mom made.” He laughed at the memory.

“I gained like twenty pounds during that,” he started, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. You’re the reason I was able to grow up big and strong.” He rubbed his gut absent-mindedly. He was always doing that, and it drove me damn near insane.

“Stop playing,” I said, laughing.

“I’m serious!” he said. We began walking down the stairs towards the front door. We continued planning for the following evening of studying. “I want that chicken and cheese thing you made. Now that was delicious.”

“I could do that.”

“How’s seven for you?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad in the shop for a bit and then I’m gonna go lift with Uncle Galvin.”

“That works for me,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll be hungry.”

“Hell yeah,” he replied enthusiastically. “Night Oli.”

“Goodnight Mason,” I said, closing the door behind him.

What was my life? Just like every night after he left, I had to take some time to masturbate. When I finished, I saw it was almost ten. My mom would be back soon. I’d watch whatever was on the Food Network and think about seeing Mason again until she got home.

As happy as I was, I couldn’t help serving myself a much-needed reality check. I wanted to believe that things were going great. We were spending lots of time together and vibing really well. He actually remembered the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. But we still didn’t speak to one another at school. It was like our relationship existed solely in my bedroom. How well could things be going for me if I was just the gay nerd who overfed him and made sure he didn’t fail English?

I woke up around six the next morning. I was definitely an early bird, getting that worm and whatnot. I took a quick shower and styled my hair. It was thick and black. I used a coconut oil cream to make it curl. It was kind of short, only about three or four inches long, but I thought it looked pretty decent. I had brown eyes and brown skin. My complexion was the color of a caramel hard candy. Both of my parents were black. My dad’s parents were from the South. My mom’s mother was from Jamaica and her dad was from Philadelphia. 

I grabbed the basket for my bike and sent my mom a text. She wouldn’t be up until around eleven, and even after that she’d be out of the house running errands before work. I was going to the store for the ingredients in my dish.

It wasn’t that long of a bike ride to the grocery store, and I’d been making the trip more frequently since I decided Mason needed to be catered to with each visit. I shopped for a while, budgeting things out, and choosing other side dishes. I got everything on my list and remembered I wanted to pick up some ice cream for after dinner. I was going to get a pint of Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion. It used to be Mason’s favorite flavor, and I was willing to bet he still loved it.

I turned back and made my way to the frozen food section. It was near where they kept the eggs and milk and cheese. I noticed Bret with some serious bed head grabbing a gallon of 2%. I snatched the ice cream from the freezer and ran for the checkout, praying he hadn’t seen me. I wanted to hurry the cashier along, but she was a kind older woman who had always been nice to me.

“You sure do grocery shop a lot,” she said, laughing. “You’re such a little thing, but you eat so much. But that’s how young men are. Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”

I conversed with her, trying my best not to appear rude, but I really didn’t need to encounter Bret on the weekend. I paid for my stuff and left the store. I went and unlocked my bike, setting it upright so I could put the groceries in the basket.

Before I could take off, I felt someone grab the hood of my hoodie. I fell backwards, my bike falling to the ground. The food rolled out onto the sidewalk.

I looked up from the pavement at Bret smirking down at me. He had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a Jackson High football sweatshirt. I normally would have just taken whatever beating he had for me, but I was fed up. Today was supposed to be a good day. I was going to make Mason his food and he’d compliment me, and I could live in my delusions for just a little while longer.

I got to my knees before standing straight up. I pushed him as hard as I could, and he stumbled back slightly. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I shouted, kind of embarrassed by how high my voice got.

“Oh, it’s on, you fag,” Bret spat at me. He set the jug of milk he’d been carrying on the sidewalk. “I’m sick of looking at you and your pink fag bike.”

“My bike is red,” I shouted. I didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea what I should do next. We looked at one another intensely.

“Red,” he said as he drew me closer to his body, yanking on my hoodie. “Or pink,” he continued. Punch in the stomach. “You’re still a fucking homo.” Punch. Punch in the mouth. Punch. Punch in the nose. Punch in the cheekbone. Punch. Another punch in the gut. I was panting as he threw me to the ground. I thought I was going to barf. 

“Fuck—you—,” I managed to get out, catching my breath. I had gotten used to my one punch in the stomach a day. This was taking me back to sophomore year when our altercations left me with a new bruise every day. He didn’t seem phased by what I said, just continuing to smirk at me.

“I sure am glad I drank the last of the milk now.” He laughed, stooping to grab his milk, and walked over to his Dodge Charger.

I gathered the scattered items and checked to make sure they were all okay. They were. I put everything back in the basket. I took a few deep breaths before mounting my bike. I rode home and took another shower.

I didn’t want to dwell on the experiences of the morning. I put on some music and spent the rest of the time before I had to start cooking doing laundry and other chores around the house. One beating didn’t mean the world had to stop moving. This was nothing new.

I started cooking around five-thirty, so it would be ready when Mason got here. About five minutes after seven the doorbell rang.

“Hey Mason,” I said, happy to see him. I smiled a little too wide and felt my lip begin to bleed again. It was only a little. I licked the blood away.

“What the fuck Oli?”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I got beat up all the time. This really was not a big deal. After high school I would never have to deal with this sort of thing ever again.

“You look like shit,” he said angrily. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“You’ve seen me like this before. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” he said, eyebrows furious. “Who was it? Who did this? I swear to God if you say Bret after I told him not to touch you anymore.”

“It’s fine, really.” I didn’t want to make this into a whole thing. I had spent the entire day trying to forget about it so that we could have a good time eating and studying together. I wanted him to just leave it alone. I wanted him to stop pretending like he actually cared about what happened. I’d been getting my ass kicked for over three years and he’d never so much as batted an eye.

“Oliver,” he pushed.

“The food is going to get cold, so let’s just go and eat.” I walked away from the front door towards the kitchen, hoping he’d follow. That was when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. We stood there for a moment. His strong, masculine hands held my upper arms firmly. He looked at my bruised cheek, my busted lip. He brought his mouth to my forehead and kissed it softly. It felt like we were standing there for hours but it couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds. “Mason—.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. 

He let go of my arms and hesitated a moment before running out to his Jeep and driving off. Had he really just kissed me? I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty sure there was lip to forehead action.

After that Mason never called or texted me, and he didn’t show up to school on Monday. I managed to avoid Bret after school and decided to take Mason his homework. He really hadn’t missed all that much, but I really wanted to see what that kiss was about. I also wondered if he worked on the essay for English class at all. I hadn’t been busting my ass for him to start failing again. It was a longer bike ride, but I made it to his place in about twenty minutes. I rang the doorbell and Mason’s kid sister Agatha answered the door.

“Oliver! Oliver! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down before reaching out for a hug.

“Hey Aggy,” I replied, embracing her. She was thirteen now. I was eighteen, my birthday at the end of September, but Mason was nineteen. His birthday was in July. It was a secret I swore to take to the grave. It was the reason why he never invited classmates to his birthday parties growing up. When he told me about why, it was like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. It was like he was Matilda or something. Mr. and Mrs. Megalos had been remarkably busy helping members of their family immigrate, starting their auto repair business, and welcoming Aggy into the world. They straight up forgot to register him for school. They waited so long that the district said he’d have to wait for the following school year. Mason never told anyone how old he was. He didn’t want people to think he failed a grade. He also didn’t want people to think he had bad parents.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll have to catch up soon, but is Mason home?”

“He’s sick,” she said with a pair of air quotes. “I know he’s lying. Sick people don’t eat as much as he does. You can go upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

I made my way upstairs, shocked by how little had changed in their house in three years. I stood outside Mason’s door, nervous about having to discuss what happened on Saturday. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? What if he wanted to pretend it never happened at all? It was now or never. I opened the door to his room. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I’d forgotten to knock. I shouldn’t have been so careless.

“Ah!” Mason yelped, looking over at me in his doorway.

He was naked, but that wasn’t the most outrageous part. There were a ton of reasons why he could be naked and alone in his room. This was his house after all. But he knelt at the side of his bed, dick in hand and a sex toy in his ass. It was definitely the hottest thing I’d ever seen in person, but still a major shock. His ass was just made to take phallic objects. There was so much of him to take in, from the powerful arms to the beefy ass to the bloated gut. I was frozen, staring at his dick and then the sex toy he’d removed from his asshole. He tossed it in a shoe box and shoved it under his bed.

“Oliver, close the door!” he said hurriedly. I turned around and closed the door quickly. He probably wanted me on the other side of it. “I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”

“Mason, look, I’m really, uh—really sorry,” I said, turning back around and staring at him as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. All I could think about was how big his butt was. He probably did a ton of squats. His legs were hairy, as were his forearms and chest. I could tell his sessions in the gym were paying off, seeing as everything about him was getting absolutely massive. But man, his gut had really grown. He was getting fat. Fatter than when he showed me his belly the first time. He must have been eating constantly. The after-school snacks I prepared for him couldn’t have been pumping him up this much. I knew he said he was bulking, but did he mean to be getting so large?

“I brought your homework,” I said. My voice was shaking. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should probably go.” What was going on? He was into butt stuff? Was he gay? I’d heard that some straight guys were into anal. They’d have their wives and girlfriends peg them with strap-ons. I couldn’t process this right now with him in front of me. I turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called. “Can I have the work?” How was he so calm? I took off my bag and pulled out the folder where I’d put all the materials he’d need. I stood there, folder in hand, unable to walk towards him. He walked over to me, his dick still semi-erect bobbing freely in the basketball shorts. His thighs were like tree trunks. His chest was broad, and his nipples were slightly bigger than I’d seen on other guys, kind of puffy. Overall, he was looking much fleshier. I needed to focus.

“Sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I handed him the folder with the assignments. He reached out to grab them and I took in his mammoth forearms. Mason was a man. He wasn’t my chubby best friend from elementary school anymore. “I didn’t come in on purpose. I swear.”

He had kissed me on Saturday. I remembered my real reason for coming over. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up now. I had to let it go. He was just some conflicted straight boy who’d put this and any other gay feelings behind him. He’d marry some girl, have some kids, and she’d peg him well into old age. Me and this whole situation would become a distant memory.

He moved closer to me.

I moved back slightly.

He moved closer to me again.

“Mason, what’re—?” I didn’t know why I came here. I should have just ignored it. He dropped the folder on the ground and pulled me closer to himself.

“I haven’t been honest with myself,” he whispered, looking at me seriously. “Or with you.” I swallowed. He kissed me—on the lips this time. I felt them for the first time on my own lips. This was authentic lip to lip action. I wanted to grab his ass. I wanted to touch his belly. I wanted everything with Mason, but something was stopping me. He pulled away and looked at me again. “I think—I think that I’ve always wanted this.”

He was waiting on me to say something, and I could tell he started to worry. As much as my body ached for him, my mind was conflicted.

“I should go,” I whispered softly, afraid of how’d he’d react to this rejection. It was clear I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. He just took a step back, his lower lip trembling like he was about to cry. I was an idiot. I left his room, closing his door behind me. I was moving pretty quickly now, needing to put as much distance between us as possible so I could clear my head.

“Later Aggy!” I called, opening their front door. I was on my bike and out on the street in a matter of seconds. I pedaled hard, so hard I could feel the burn in my legs.

I made my way home and into my room. I wouldn’t be able to think with the erection I had. I was rock hard the entire bike ride home. I had always been an avid masturbator, but recently it had gotten out of hand.

When I finished, I tried to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t as simple as Mason and I being able to fool around. Where were things going to go now? Would he come out? Would he want to date me? If Mason just wanted to experiment with me, I couldn’t do it, even if part of me wanted to be used by him. I’d spent the last three years allowing myself to be mistreated, and I was not ready to swap one form of degradation for another.

I finished my homework in a daze, not too sure of what I actually completed. I went to bed feeling absolutely miserable.

The next day, I avoided Mason like the plague. I felt wrong, like he really had been sick, and he was making a huge mistake. I went the whole day avoiding him. I didn’t even look in his direction, so I had no idea if he was looking in mine. After school I made my way to my bike. I had to get home. I just needed to be alone to think some more. I set down my bag and started to put in the combo for my bike lock.

I fell forward.

Someone had kicked me in the back as I was kneeling. I turned and saw that it was Bret. Of course it was Bret. He wasn’t alone today. Standing slightly behind him were these other football guys named Bill and Zeke. I wished my eyes were deceiving me, but Mason was there too, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I tried to finish unlocking my bike, but Bret kicked me again and I fell forward once more. I looked up at Mason, the giant I had idealized for so long. He looked away. Bret said something obscene, but I was too intensely focused on Mason to catch exactly what was said. Our eyes met and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

I hated Mason.

I stood up after finally getting my bike unlocked. I mounted it and tried to ride off. I was stopped and pushed over. I wondered why no teachers or staff members tried to intervene. There had to be at least one nearby. I had ripped my jeans when I hit the pavement. I tried to get up. They were all calling me names and laughing. Mason stood silent, their all-powerful leader.

I tried to ride off again and this time I got away. I was crying, but I was too far away from them to see me. I felt like I was nothing, an empty shell peddling home. Mason was—I didn’t know what he was. I didn’t know who he was anymore. We had gone down two completely different paths, and I had thought they were meeting back up. It was stupid of me to believe that. Our paths were only going to continue diverging.

I went around back and put my bike away before going inside to think about Mason some more. The way he looked away when I needed him had me seething. I pulled off my sneakers and the ripped pair of jeans. I hadn’t cut my knee at all, so that was something to be happy about. The doorbell rang. I sat on the sofa hoping they would go away. The bell kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

They weren’t going away. I was reaching my boiling point. I just needed to be alone, at least for an hour or so. I ran to the door and pulled it open aggressively.

“Can I help you—?” I asked, before registering who had been ringing the doorbell.

“Hey.” It was Mason. “Can I talk to you, please?” He looked down at my legs. I was in nothing but a t-shirt and pair of black briefs. I didn’t even care. I was still livid.

“What?” I asked harshly. “Did you come to beat me up too? I could have sworn you made the first move yesterday. But if you find it appropriate to pin all faggish activity on me I’m willing to carry the burden.”

“I’m so sorry, Oli.” I felt myself weaken. No. I needed to remain strong. His eyebrows were furrowed; his eyes were sad. Those sad, green eyes had gotten their way numerous times when we were younger.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” I began to close the door. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” he called, using his weight to keep the door open. “I’m not finished. Can I come in?”

“No,” I said, trying my best to stand my ground. “I hope you fail English. I hope I never have to look at your stupid face ever again.”

“Oli,” he pleaded. He looked at me again with those sorrowful eyes. I hesitated for a moment, but then I moved out of the way so he could enter the house. He brought his beefy frame through the door.

“I’ve got to know,” he started, blushing. “Why did you run out yesterday?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, when I was, you know—uh masturbating.” I stood silent, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to hear. I really wasn’t too sure what his angle was anymore. Did that incident mean something to him or not? “Is it because you don’t like how I look? I know I’ve gained some weight. I’m just trying to get some more size, and I’ll lose the extra padding eventually. I’ll start losing it right now if that’s what it takes for you to be attracted to me.”

“Your appearance has absolutely nothing to do with why I left yesterday,” I said honestly. He really thought that was the only reason I left? Had he not considered the entire situation? The last three years of our lives?

“It doesn’t?” he asked, taken aback. “Well, I’m not sure but I think I might be—you know, gay. And—and I have all these feelings for you. Hanging out with you again has only helped me confirm what I knew all along. I missed my best friend, Oliver.”

“Mason—,” I started before he cut me off.

“I’m probably not even your type. That’s so fucking pretentious of me to assume you even think I’m attractive.”

“Mason, listen,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I always believed you didn’t mean to hurt me. I held out hope that we could at least one day be friends again. But the thing that happened Saturday, and then walking in on you yesterday. It just made me angry.”

He was still looking at me seriously, taking in everything I was saying, really trying to hear me out.

“Angry that you felt you couldn’t have talked to me sooner. Angry that you thought we could just sort of hook up? I don’t really know what you thought, but it doesn’t feel like you even tried to think about me at all.”

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his eyes watering. “I fucked up. I’m a pussy. I’m sorry Oliver. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t take it, looking at him with tears streaming down his face. I’d never seen such a big man cry before, and it made me feel like I needed to give him a hug. But if I didn’t stand up for myself now, I’d always be walked all over.

“When you asked me to help you with your English work do you remember what you said to me?” He shook his head no. “You told me that you didn’t want people to know you were associating with me. I felt so worthless, but I did it anyway because—because you’re still one of the most important people in my life.”

“I’ll never make you feel worthless ever again,” he said, his voice serious and honest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance.”

I crossed my arms, considering what he said. I believed him. I was scared that I believed him. What if I trusted him and got hurt even worse than before?

“I want us to be together,” he said, sniffling. “Being with you makes me feel good, and I want to feel good all the time.”

“I—I think that I want to be with you too,” I said, looking away from him, unsure of if it was a good idea to relent so easily.

“Really?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

It was building up inside of me, the love I had for him, the confession that had been left unsaid years ago. I felt it coming out, like word vomit.

“I love everything about you,” I started, still unable to look at him, “the way your eyebrows do that thing and the way you eat and don’t stop. And if you like bulking and powerlifting I don’t mind that. I think you look amazing and—and, I don’t know, Mason, if you gained more weight, I would still be attracted to you. Get as big as you want, really.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Oliver. You’re probably one of the best-looking guys in school and you’re attracted to me? Girls hate that you’re gay.” He took a deep breath. “I have never felt the same about girls that I do about you. I think about you every day.”

“I’m not kidding,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re hot and—and I would even want you to get bigger. I don’t know how to explain it, but the fact that you’re getting bigger makes me really—you know.” I felt like such a weirdo. So much was happening all at once. “I’ve never thought you’ve looked so good.” It felt like the time I told him I was gay. I wondered if he’d just walk out like he had then.

“You’d be okay with me being bigger? For real?” he asked. I felt a slight amount of relief. He hadn’t walked out.

“Yes,” I said, my body tense with nerves. “I would.”

“I like this, being bigger. I always have,” he said. It was silent for a moment. “I want to be bigger. I want to get stronger. This size is something I would’ve never gotten if I kept playing football.” He laughed nervously.

“What?” I asked.

“You sure you’re okay being seen with some big monster?”

“I don’t think you could ever be a monster.” He walked towards me and kissed me so fast I almost fell over. He was huge, like a big teddy bear, and I loved it. I really did, a hundred percent. He laughed, kissing me through the tears on his face. He held me close to him, my dick pressing against him through my underwear.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I guess you’re my boyfriend,” he said seriously. “If you’re okay with that.”

My whole body felt intensely warm. It was like I was in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I’d crashed my bike on my way home and I was in a coma, my consciousness somewhere between earth and the great beyond.

Something weighed heavily on me and I was afraid to bring it up. I wanted to squeal with joy and cry tears of relief, but I had to make sure we were on the same page. I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone.

I was quiet, not sure how to ask Mason what was on my mind. I think he hated when I got all silent like this. He was a much more direct sort of person.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just—am I, uh—is this a secret?”

“No,” he said, eyebrows serious. “I hate you even had to consider that. You’re never going to be a secret in my life ever again.”

I was his boyfriend.

He was my boyfriend.

We were boyfriend and boyfriend.

The next day in school Mason talked to me in every class. He sat with me at lunch. He stopped at my locker with me. He was trying very hard to prove to me that he was serious. He meant what he said about making it up to me for the last three years.

“Mason, what the fuck is your problem?” Bret asked disgustedly. “This whole day you’ve been acting weird.” Bret looked over at me, obviously insinuating that I was what was weird. English class had just ended, and Mason was going to give me a ride home, and not because he wanted something from me, just because he wanted to be around me. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked, feigning ignorance.

“The fag, Mason. The fag.” Bret spat the word fag like it was a disease.

“I don’t think you should use that word anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear you using that word or making jokes or putting your hands on Oliver ever again. You or anybody else, so spread the word.”

“Are you in love with him or something?” Bret asked, trying to get a rise out of Mason.

“I might be, yeah,” Mason replied seriously. Bret’s eyes widened before he began to laugh hysterically. “We’re dating.”

“Mason, you are hilarious.” Mason leaned over towards me. He brought his face incredibly close to mine before he touched my lips softly with his own, kissing me. It was a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, but it made me feel exposed. I’d barely kissed anyone before and never in public. “You’re taking it too far dude. That was gay as hell.”

“Probably because I’m gay.”

“You’re—you’re not joking? You’re a fag too?”

“Yep,” Mason said, wrapping his beefy arm around me. “And watch your language, dude. There’s only so many times I’m going to tell you.”

Bret ran off, probably to go tell someone. By tomorrow every single person in the school would know. I wondered what people would say. I hoped Mason would be all right. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest decision.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, still thinking about him kissing me in front of Bret.

“It’s not like you’re my secret boyfriend.” He smiled and I melted.

He took me home and we went inside. We were going to study and hang out for a while. He told me that he wanted to spend so much time together that I’d get sick of him. I told him that’d never happen. And he said that meant we’d just be stuck with each other. We were in the second week of November, and the weather had cooled considerably. I volunteered to make hot chocolate and he happily accepted my offer. I also provided a plate of chocolate chip cookies I’d made the night before.

“Thanks,” he said as I handed him the drink. He sipped it carefully, making sure to collect the mini marshmallows. He must’ve gotten too excited because some of it spilled onto his lap. He stood quickly.

“Aw shit,” he said.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing to grab some paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of pissed I wasted some of my hot chocolate.” I laughed at his serious expression, telling him that I was more than willing to make him another mugful. We sopped up the bulk of the liquid with the paper towels, but he let me know he didn’t like the moist feeling.

“I don’t want it to soak into my underwear.”

He popped open the button of his jeans with a sigh of relief. He pulled them down and stood in my kitchen in a pair of navy boxer briefs. “I’ve got to get some new jeans.” He sure wasn’t modest. I was getting hard looking at his big hairy thighs. He could crush someone’s skull with those things. I kind of wanted my skull crushed.

“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” I said, still staring at his legs. “Maybe a pair of basketball shorts.”

“I’m good like this if you don’t mind,” he said, standing before me like a Grecian statue.

“No way. I don’t think I can control myself looking at you with your legs out like that.” He laughed, jokingly telling me that I was weird.

“They’re just legs,” he said, grinning at me. He’d always loved showing off, and I had always been a willing observer. “And who says you need to control yourself?”

“It’s not just your legs,” I said, getting excited. “It’s your ass. I’ve been looking at your butt for years.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder back at me. The fabric of his underwear separated each cheek, making his ass look even juicier. I wanted to take a bite out of it, my mouth watering at the sight of how much weight he was carrying back there. “If you’ve been checking it out for years, how’s it looking nowadays?”

“Phenomenal,” I said, zoning out. I was completely mesmerized. There was nothing that could break me out of this trance.

“You can grab it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, like he didn’t know if what he said was okay. Was he testing my attraction to him? Who wouldn’t want to squeeze his meaty ass? I walked closer to where he stood, my hands cupping the ass I’d only ever dreamed of touching since I knew I liked men. I jiggled it slightly, impressed by how I could still feel the muscle underneath its fatty outer layer.

“It definitely feels bigger than I thought it would,” I said, still touching him.

“I do a lot of squats,” he said, laughing apprehensively. “I think it’s gotten bigger these last couple of weeks. Working out with my uncle and eating like I do has changed my body faster than I thought it would.”

He turned around, and I noticed he was hard. He looked down at his penis straining against his boxer briefs and then away from me, biting his lower lip nervously. I bet his muscle-gut blocked some of his lower half from sight. How long would it be before he wouldn’t be able to see his dick when he looked down?

It was nice that he physically reacted to me feeling him up, but was he expecting something more? Would he want to bottom? Was he prepared for that today? I had wondered when things would become more sexual between us. We’d known each other for so long, but not as sexual beings with lots of sexual urges.

I turned away from him, walking towards the freezer. I couldn’t take the awkwardness. I grabbed the ice cream from a few weeks ago that he never got to eat.

“Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion,” he exclaimed gleefully.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it.” I grabbed a spoon, handing it to him along with the pint of ice cream. The little container in his large hand was really cute. He peeled off the lid and dug into the dessert greedily. This probably wasn’t enough ice cream to satiate him. He walked casually over towards a counter, pressing his butt up against it. He leaned back and ate spoonful after spoonful. He licked the spoon slowly after each mouthful.

Was he putting on a show for me? Like when we were younger?

“That was good,” he said after less than ten minutes of eating. A now empty container sat on the counter next to him. He gave a satisfied belch and put his hands on his slightly bloated middle.

“You really know how to eat,” I observed.

“It’s probably weird,” he started, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, making sure not to meet my gaze, “but it kind of turns me on sometimes.”

“It’s not weird.”

I made my way to where he stood against the counter, reaching out and placing my hands on the sides of his middle. We both stood there, silently aroused. I could hear his breathing—in and out, in and out. I lifted his t-shirt. He rested his hand on my shoulder as I massaged his gut. He gave a satisfied moan that made my dick twitch.

“This feels really good.”

“It does?” I asked. I was on cloud nine, finally getting my hands on his gut after fixating over it for weeks. I could see he was getting hard, and I couldn’t believe he happened to be on the same wavelength as I was. I knew he said he liked being bigger, but I didn’t realize he liked it in this way.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” he whispered breathily, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned, unable to suppress the expression.

I was feeling bold, wanting to take further control of his pleasure. He could be in charge of everything else in our lives, but in this moment, I knew I was the one who could call the shots. I slid one of my hands down under his gut, sliding it into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to get his consent before I continued.

He just moaned again, whimpering as my hand wrapped around his erection.

“Tell me you want me to do this,” I commanded.

“I want it, Oliver,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his boxer briefs, so I had easier access to his penis. It was above average size and thick, but I was bigger and for some reason that really turned me on. I stroked him gently, enjoying how it pulsated in my hand. I noticed he relaxed his stomach muscles and his gut pushed forward some more. I looked up at his face and he looked back, his eyes glazed over. Fuck, was that a hot expression.

I stopped for a second, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling out my own dick. I stroked us both off, moving nice and slow. With both of my hands now occupied elsewhere, Mason took it upon himself to massage his stomach.

“That belly is looking real good,” I said, watching his expression carefully. He looked—pleased! His eyes were closed, but he got that grin on his face again. He grabbed his gut by the sides and gave it a shake.

He was close and I could tell. Seeing him so aroused was turning me on more than I thought possible. I was going to push him over the edge.

“Fuck Mason, I can only imagine how big your gut is gonna be a few months from now.”

It was a risk, but it paid off. He shot a huge stream of cum across the kitchen floor. He looked at me now, his eyes still had that glazed-over look and he fell to his knees. He grabbed at my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear.

“Whoa, Mason, what’re—?”

He licked the head of my penis holding the shaft in his somewhat rough hand. His mouth was warm, and he worked my dick with unexpected finesse. Looking down at the top of his head, I took in his curly brown hair. I couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was on his knees giving me head. I also couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was Mason of all people.

“Mase, I’m coming.” He removed my dick from his mouth, and I felt cum erupt from inside of me so forcefully I got lightheaded. It wasn’t until I was completely finished that I was able to take in what had occurred. Mason was still on his knees, his face covered in my cum. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t seem like everything was okay. He got off of his knees, pulling up his underwear. We cleaned up in silence. He got my cum off his face, and I got his cum off the floor. He was the one who broke the silence. “That was weird.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he said, looking down at the kitchen tiles. “What was with that stuff you were saying?”

“Did you not like that?” I asked, feeling less confident than I had been during our sexual encounter. Things were shifting back into their regular alignment. Me being awkward. Mason being intimidating.

“I just—when we talked about me being bigger, you didn’t just mean muscles, did you?”

“I—I, uh, there’s nothing wrong with being bigger.”

“Were you just saying that because you figured out that’s what I’m into?” he asked. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself to be attracted to me like this.”

“Mason,” I started, “I think it’s more than obvious we like the same thing. I don’t know how we lucked out like this, but that gut you’ve got is definitely sexy.” He just laughed.

“Oli, c’mon,” he said. “You’re legit gorgeous. You could be an underwear model or something, I mean, damn, your quads are amazing.” I laughed. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and pulled me forward. He rested his masculine hands on my ass, like I had always wanted. “And this bubble butt is something else.”

“I’ve got to know Mason. When did you start thinking you might be gay?”

“The day you told me,” he said. I pushed myself away from his solid body.

“What?”

“Yeah, you coming out to me was really confusing. And I figured I should avoid you for a little while to figure things out—I didn’t think it’d be three years though, sorry.”

I just laughed. We’d missed out on years together. There really was nothing to do but find the humor in the situation, because otherwise it would be too sad to think about.

“I started watching gay porn freshman year and I bought that sex toy about a year ago.”

“You’re something else,” I said. “I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

He smiled and it just felt like it got easier to breathe. I ended up making him another mug of hot chocolate before throwing his jeans in the washing machine. Being domestic with him was turning me on, but then again, anything involving Mason was a turn on. I was starting to feel more peaceful. Mason and I would keep talking and figuring things out about this relationship. We had time. We finally had time.

Christmas break came after what felt like an eternity. Of course, people were talking about me and Mason. We could hear their not-so-whispered remarks every single day. He ignored it and held my hand through it all, which really meant a lot to me. He was an incredible person.

Mason had been so liked by everyone, that it was odd to see his old friends ignore him or mumble fucked-up things under their breath when he was nearby. I didn’t know how he could take it, falling so far from the graces of the popular crowd. I had always been on the outskirts, so I couldn’t really understand what he was going through.

We’d made it through Thanksgiving unscathed. It was a little sad we couldn’t spend the holiday together, but Mason hadn’t come out to his family and I hadn’t told my mom we were dating. He’d pushed himself incredibly hard these last couple of weeks, so if he wanted to ease into telling his parents, I wasn’t going to complain.

But that tranquility Mason was experiencing at home was short lived. If the entire high school knew Mason was gay, there was only a matter of time before word got back to people’s parents. Those parents talked to other parents, and those parents talked to Mason’s parents.

The first night of break, Mason was confronted by his father about what he’d heard from a customer in his auto shop. I hated the look on Mason’s face when he told me this story. It was heartbreaking. It felt like it was all my fault.

Mason’s dad threw him out. Mr. Megalos took him up by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the front door. Well, he grabbed his collar, yes, and likely pulled him by it, but I doubted he could actually lift Mason to throw him anywhere. His mom let him back in of course, but he packed a bag and left. He’d shown up on my doorstep a little before midnight. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“They found out,” he said. And I knew. I knew his heart was probably in a million pieces.

“Oliver, who is at the door?” My mother walked into the foyer, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. She’d gotten in from work about an hour ago and had just finished with some self-care. I was glad she’d just taken a bath, because I needed her to be in a good mood.

“Mom, it’s Mason,” I said.

“Well look at that,” she said, taking him in for the first time in three years. “What has Katerina been feeding you?” Mason gave a half-hearted laugh, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house.

“It’s, uh, good to see you Ms. Bailey.”

“Mason, you can go up to my room while I talk to my mom.”

My mom raised her eyebrows at this, watching as Mason walked towards the rear of the house where the stairs were. That was when the begging began. She had me on my knees.

“You know he can’t stay here Oliver.”

“Mom,” I pleaded, my voice somewhat whiny. “He needs this. He’s my best friend. Please.” She laughed, and I knew it was because she didn’t consider Mason to be my best friend anymore. I hadn’t mentioned him in years; the last time she’d brought him up, I blew up at her.

(“Oliver, sweetheart, you don’t want to invite Mason to celebrate your birthday with us?” I was turning sixteen and I hadn’t talked to Mason in nearly eleven months.

She knew something had been off between us, as Mason hadn’t been to our house since I came out to him.

“It’s just another day,” I replied, feeling especially mopey. “He’s probably busy anyway.”

“I could call Katerina,” she suggested. “If you boys had a falling out, we can get things back on track. He’s been your best friend since first grade.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t know how to navigate how I was feeling. There was just so much shame and sadness that I hadn’t really taken the time to unpack.

“Can you just shut up?” I demanded. “We aren’t friends anymore, okay? It was my fault. There’s no way to fix it, so can you please just drop it?” I stormed off to my bedroom after that. I spent the rest of my sixteenth birthday alone crying in my bedroom. It was definitely a low. I knew the only reason my mom didn’t come after me was because it was my birthday. If it were any other day and I spoke to her like that, I’d probably be dead.)

“Oliver, we just can’t. You need to let his family work out whatever problem they’re dealing with.”

“Mom, if—if he can’t stay, I’ll leave with him,” I said, being dramatic.

“No, you won’t,” she replied, laughing. She was calling my bluff.

“I will,” I said, trying my best to win her over. “We’ll wander the streets, sleep in his Jeep. I might even have to become a prostitute to scrape by. We’ll drop out of high school. Do some drugs. Is that what you want Mom? I really don’t think it is.” I sounded like I was describing the plot of some made-for-TV movie.

“Oliver,” my mother said with a theatrical groan, massaging her temples. She obviously wanted to laugh at my monologue, which I knew would play into my favor. “If Katerina and Adrian come to take him home, we aren’t going to fight them on it, do you understand?”

She smiled at me gently. She was legit the best mother in the entire world. She probably only relented because she had just gotten in from work (and she’d had her bubble bath and a glass of wine). She worked as a nurse during a shift that went from three until ten-thirty, and that was when the hospital didn’t ask her to come in early or stay late.

“Yes, thank you!” I actually jumped for joy, clasping my hands together in gratitude. “You won’t even notice that he’s here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “He needs to sleep in your room because I don’t want him on my sofa. We just got that thing last year and the way he’s looking, it’d be sunken in within the month.”

I just laughed, promising Mason would not be allowed anywhere near her sofa. She likely assumed Mason was not gay. I knew right away that Mason had been outed to his family, but I didn’t make that information privy to my mother. When explaining why he needed to stay with us, I just sort of said his dad was mad about him quitting the football team and putting on some weight. I had been planning on telling her we were dating, but it was probably a good thing I hadn’t mentioned it.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind the floor for a little while.”

“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, walking towards where her bedroom was on the first floor. The second floor was an addition, and the only thing up there was my bedroom and a bathroom. “Mommy is tired. They want me to come in early tomorrow, so you kids need to keep it down.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “Goodnight best mom in the entire universe.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling under her breath. “Tell Mason it was nice seeing him again.”

I made my way to the rear of the house and ran up the stairs to my room. I closed the door quietly.

“She said you could stay here until you’re able to work things out with your family.” I was smiling at him, but that excitement was short-lived. This wasn’t some slumber party. He was here because he couldn’t be at home.

“Thank God,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“She said you have to sleep in here,” I said in mock-apology. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll have to share a bed.”

“Well damn it,” he replied. “I guess if there’re no other alternatives.” He got off of my bed and walked towards me. He put his arms around me slowly and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him—which had gotten considerably more difficult post-Thanksgiving. I kissed him a little bit longer before pushing him away.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to cull my arousal. We could not have sex right now. I felt weird about doing things like that with my mom in the house. I totally wouldn’t be able to focus.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to think about it,” he answered. “I’d rather make out with my boyfriend—among other things.”

“We have to wait until tomorrow, or my mom will hear and freak out,” I said seriously.

We’d masturbated together a few more times since the first experience in the kitchen. He’d given me head a few more times, and I reciprocated that as well. But we hadn’t done the actual deed. With him living here for an unknown amount of time, especially during winter break, we were likely going to go all the way.

“We can be quiet,” he whined. I was so turned on by the fact he enjoyed being intimate with me. Hearing him beg for it almost had me relenting.

“It will be better tomorrow,” I said, walking over to my laundry basket and throwing my shirt into it.

“Fine,” he pouted before smiling. “But don’t expect me to let go of you all night.”

We got into the bed and he kept his promise. At least for this night, the first time we ever were going to sleep together in the same bed, he had me pulled closely into his beefy body. My full-sized bed was just right, but at the rate Mason was growing, I didn’t think it would be just right for long.

I knew he didn’t want to talk about what happened with his dad, at least not yet, so we enjoyed one another in silence. Before long, I could hear him gently snoring behind me. He was very warm and that made me feel so calm, that before long, I was also fast asleep.

I was awake a little after six and immediately got up to take a shower. Mason was still sleeping even after I finished my shower, so I went to make him breakfast. I had made hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. He was still sleeping when I finished around nine.

I ate with my mom and she let me know she was going to spend the morning shopping with my grandmother. She would be home this afternoon to take a nap and get ready for work. After she left, I went to wake up Mason.

He sat up quickly when I mentioned there was breakfast waiting for him downstairs. He got out of bed. He was wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs and a white undershirt. His thighs were huge and strong looking. His ass was barely contained by the ash-colored fabric. His belly pushed the small shirt up a bit, around his belly button. His arms looked massive, and I wanted to grab ahold of them and never let go.

Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.

“You can use the bathroom and come down for breakfast,” I said finally, regaining focus.

“Okay,” he said, sleepy eyed, scratching his tummy. He went off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I heard the flush of the toilet, then the sink turning on and off, and about five minutes later he exited the bathroom, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. We made our way downstairs.

Looking at the table, there was a ridiculous amount of food for one person. Even with what my mother and I ate, there was way too much for Mason. I’d used almost an entire bag of potatoes for the hash browns. I’d have to get another carton of eggs, having used the ten that we had in the fridge. The toast was buttered, and the bacon was crisp. I’d definitely been excited while cooking, thinking with my dick and not my head.

“I realize now this is an excessive amount of food.”

“I didn’t get to eat dinner last night,” he said. “I’m starving.”

He wasn’t kidding. He really was.

Mason tackled the spread like a competitive eater. He took a piece of toast and carefully folded it in half before adding some of the other ingredients, making a sort of taco. He did this until the eight pieces of toast were gone. He then ate what was left of the eggs and hash browns with hot sauce. He drank two big glasses of milk too. I didn’t realize how much he could eat. I was sitting at the table across from him.

It was after breakfast. My mom wasn’t home. We could finally have at it.

“You ate all of it,” I said, touching my boner underneath the table. I was wearing a pair of running shorts that came about halfway up my thigh. I was easily able to access my dick.

“Yeah,” he said, his face going red. “I didn’t have dinner and I was really hungry and it tasted so good.” He placed his hands on his belly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt, failing to keep it down. Majority of his clothes had begun to fit this way. “I guess you were wrong about the whole me getting fatter thing.”

“I was not wrong,” I said, standing. He took in my massive erection and smiled, relief showing on his face.

“We really are a pair of sexual deviants, huh?” I walked to his side of the table and grabbed his hand. He stood up, looking down at me for a moment. He scooped me up and held me in his powerful arms. We looked at one another for a moment. His eyebrows were so serious it made me laugh. He joined in and we laughed hard for a few moments.

“I got excited,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re so excited. It means it’s not just me.” Still in his arms, he made his way towards the stairs and ran us up to my room.

In a flurry, our clothing items flew off our bodies. His t-shirt, my shorts. My sweatshirt, his boxer briefs. We stood completely naked in the middle of my bedroom, and it was all sort of surreal.

“Oli, you’ve got a body like a porn star.”

“You may not be as defined as I am, but I’d much rather see you in a porno.” He laughed.

“We could be in one together,” he said, joking. “It’d be the only video I’d ever need for the rest of my life.”

I smiled at him, my hands on his waist. I enjoyed how he’d begun to spread out. His gut hadn’t been like this back in October. He was developing love handles, with little stretch marks around where his torso met his hips.

My hands moved to his biceps and he flexed them for me. My dick jumped at how solid his arms were, craving his body. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

He nodded.

I grabbed a condom and lube from a box in my closet. I didn’t think I’d ever get to use these things, and here I was about to use them with Mason. He moved onto the bed and he put his ass out for me.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“No, but I’ve seen a lot of porn,” I said truthfully, almost half-regretting my honesty. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“No,” he said. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before I kissed you.” I had made out with some guys before, but I didn’t want to spoil how sweet that was. Something about this whole situation was kind of empowering.

“I’ll be gentle,” I said, trying to be suave. Sure, I had seen my fair share of pornography, but seeing something and executing something were two very different things. I didn’t want to be bad at it. I was always the passive, quiet one and I had to admit, I enjoyed the idea of being the dominant one in the bedroom.

I lubed up my penis as well as his asshole. I slapped his butt, enjoying the sound it made. I did it again and he gasped softly. He arched his back a little, accentuating the size of his ass.

I entered his beautiful ass slowly. I started with just the head, not wanting to hurt him. He was breathing loudly, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. I moved slightly, pushing a little more of myself into him, and felt a tingle go throughout my whole body. Mason continued gasping and whimpering and breathing loudly as I slowly pushed more and more of my dick inside of him.

“Christ!” he yelped. I stopped moving.

“Do you need me to stop?” I asked.

“Fuck, Oli,” he said, panting. “It’s starting to feel good. Keep going.” I did as I was told and bucked my hips back and forth, the sound of my upper thighs slamming against his fat ass creating a sort of beat. About halfway through he started tugging at his dick, moaning loudly as he came. That did it for me, and after a few more strokes, I filled the condom with my cum.

I was sure if someone were watching it would have looked awkward, but I didn’t care at all. I had never felt closer to a person. I had never felt closer to Mason.

Actual sex was way better than masturbating.

“Are you okay?” I asked, removing the condom and throwing it in my trashcan.

“That felt really good.” Mason was still panting. I walked over to the bed where he was laying down and laid next to him. “I was worried there for a second, but little Oli sure knows what he’s doing.” I laughed.

“That was possibly the best experience of my life,” I said. He rolled over on top of me, straddling me, and covered my face with kisses. I loved it.

“How much do you weigh now?” I inquired, feeling his weight pressing me down.

“Get the scale,” he said, swinging himself from on top of me. I got off of the mattress and made my way to the bathroom. I got the scale and set it in the center of my bedroom. He placed his large feet on the scale, and I read the number.

“283 pounds.” In less than three months, Mason had gained nearly sixty pounds. I was getting hard again just thinking about where he’d be three months, six months, a year from now. I stepped on the scale next, also getting off on how much more he weighed than I did. It read 160 pounds and a little extra. 123 pounds. Mason was 123 pounds bigger than me.

“You’re fucking tiny,” he said in disbelief, looking down at the number displayed on the monitor. “I never realized how little you are." I turned my naked body to face him and gestured to my flaccid cock, which admittedly, was still pretty big.

“I wasn't talking about that,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t weighed 160 pounds since the fifth grade.”

“Do you not like me being skinny?”

“I find your skinniness to be quite the turn on.” He kissed me, grabbing my ass. “And if we’re being honest, you store all your weight in just the right places.” I didn’t know why that made me so flustered, but it did. I felt my face go hot. I liked that he thought I had a nice ass.

“I’d have to say the same goes for you,” I said.

“I hope to get much bigger,” he said, stepping back from me. He flexed his arms and I felt myself getting hard again. He knew what he was doing, turning me on. He turned around, so I could look at his wide back and juicy butt. He was damn near a wall. He turned back around and looked at me with extreme intensity.

“What’s with that look all of a sudden?”

“I want to be able to keep you safe, Oli. I’m going to be big enough to protect you from everything.” I was so turned on again. He was adorable.

“Thanks Mason,” I said, reaching out to embrace him. We stood together for a few minutes before we took a shower and got dressed. Throughout the day Mason ate all the snacks we had in the house. We went shopping and stockpiled food in my bedroom. He didn’t want to let my mother know he was constantly inhaling food. We did have to keep all the milk he got in the fridge. I wondered what my mom would say about it. Two weeks of him eating this way and he’d get huge.

Holiday break could only last the two weeks; I knew it could only be two weeks, and yet the morning classes were to resume, I was an anxious mess. Mason’s constant eating slapped another ten pounds onto his beefy frame, putting him at 293 pounds. Everyone was going to notice. He was gigantic. He was still incredibly muscular underneath his recent gain though, only making him appear even wider.

The only time Mason was away from me was when he’d go to meet with his uncle to lift weights. Galvin told Mason he didn’t care that he was gay, and that Mason’s dad would come around soon. It meant a lot to Mason that his uncle still supported him.

Mason’s arms were big and strong, and his thighs were probably so large to hold up his massive bubble butt. His belly pushed up all his shirts and buttoning pants was just a waste of time, so he wore sweatpants and the biggest sweatshirt he could find. I felt bad. This day was going to be bad. He looked good to me of course, but everyone was going to stir up trouble. I didn’t want to go to school.

He drove us to school that morning and things were fairly similar to the way they were before break. That’s not to say people weren’t making comments, but there was nothing too out of the ordinary. Things were actually bearable until lunch.

We sat together, eating lunch amidst the stares of our nosy classmates. I had a fruit salad, some fries, a grilled chicken sandwich, and a banana. Mason had bought three slices of pizza, fries, chicken tenders, and three milks. It was like he didn't care about what was happening at all—all the stares, all the names, the comments, and dirty looks.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, eating a few fries, but not really feeling all that hungry. My stomach was in knots. He was already on his second slice of pizza.

“Well, I mean you kind of move your mouth in a gnawing motion after placing food in there. Like this—,” he said, taking a colossal bite and chewing theatrically. I laughed loudly. He was so dumb sometimes, able to make a joke that could distract me from my negative feelings. He smiled at me and started on his chicken tenders.

“I meant all of the people,” I said, clarifying what I was sure he knew I was originally referring to.

“I just don’t care,” he said seriously. “I wasted three years of my life caring about what other people thought. It’s 2012. Being gay shouldn’t be this big of an issue. I let other people tell me being gay was wrong. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He gulped down his second milk, nibbling at his remaining fries. His sweatshirt exposed a bit of belly as it set in his lap. “I love you, Oli. I just think about that and I don’t even notice everybody else.”

He loved me? I knew I loved him too, but we hadn’t said it before.

“I think I’ll try that,” I said. “Thinking about how much I love you.” I thought I was supposed to be the one thinking positive? I was proud to call Mason my boyfriend.

I opened my banana and heard an increase in laughter. I looked over at Bret pointing at me.

“You thinking about Mason’s dick?” he called, causing his table to erupt in laughter again. I forgot not to get a banana. I hadn’t eaten a banana at school since freshman year. I moved the banana away from my lips, visibly distraught. It was so embarrassing being made fun of in front of Mason.

“Can I have that?” Mason asked as he smiled at me. I handed him the banana. “Thanks.” He put it in and out of his mouth suggestively, making a ridiculous face as well. He then shoved the whole thing in greedily. He had me doubled over in laughter again. He was so absurd sometimes. He chewed and drank the last milk.

“Mase, you’re so goofy.”

“Thanks. That was so good,” he said loudly, for Bret and his cronies to hear. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. Was I falling even more in love with him? He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “I’m still hungry. I think I got too used to you keeping me well-fed. I’m going to get a cookie.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a bite out of my sandwich. I felt better. Better than ever. I was almost done with my sandwich when Bret came over. That positive feeling didn’t stand a chance.

“What’s up faggot?”

“I don’t care what you call me.” I stood, looking to find Mason so we could spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. We could study for English. Anything would be better than having to stay around Bret for an extended period of time. Bret placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me back into my seat.

“I don’t give a fuck what you care about.” I looked up at him from my seat. He narrowed his blue eyes at me, making him look like a rat. This guy really hated me. I stood up again and turned to walk away, kind of afraid of what he was going to do to me. “I hate what you are. You did something to Mason.”

“Like what?” I asked, turning to face him. Did he think I was blackmailing Mason? Threatening him with violence? Casting love spells?

“I don’t know.” He took a cupcake from a tray on a neighboring table. He looked down at it for a moment, likely pausing for dramatic effect, before he slammed it into my face. “But I don’t like it.”

I’d spent years dealing with this sort of treatment from Bret, but for some reason this was actually getting to me. We were in the middle of the cafeteria and nearly everyone was looking at us now. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to take Mason’s words to heart. But he hadn’t experienced just how awful I’d been treated. I warily scrapped some of the frosting from around my eyes.

“Oh shit,” one of the girls nearby mumbled to the friend she was sitting with.

I turned, watching as Mason made his way over to where Bret and I stood. I saw his eyes travel from my face to Bret’s. Mason calmly set his cookies on the table next to me and pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The whole cafeteria was silent. It was like every sound had been magically muted.

“Mason,” I said nervously, trying to pull him away from Bret. “We need to go study for the Spanish quiz. We have to go now.” Bret was no match for Mason, and everyone else was still too afraid to even try and fight him. Mason was going to get in trouble. He used to get into fights all the time. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him pummel other assholes.

Mason yanked his arm from my grasp easily. Everything happened so fast, but I don’t think Bret landed a single blow on Mason. After about three minutes, I saw Bret was all purple and bloody.

“Fucking bitch!” Mason spat, his voice intense like the roar of a grizzly. The school security officers were coming. “You lay a hand on my boyfriend again and you’re dead.”

“Come on!” I pulled his sweatshirt and he finally stormed out.

“I should have killed him,” he said angrily, nostrils flared. He was breathing heavily.

“Okay, so yeah, Bret’s the worst,” I started, picking cupcake out of my eyebrows, “but I don’t think life in prison is going to solve anything. It’s not worth it.”

“I know, you’re right,” he said, his breathing slowing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt by him anymore.”

“By a cupcake?” I asked jokingly, trying to calm him down further.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

He leaned against a row of lockers. This wasn’t going to go unchecked by the school. They’d call his parents over this. He might even get suspended.

“I forgot my fucking cookies!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I could totally make you some!” This side of Mason was really hot, but I knew he wasn’t feeling great about the whole situation. As sexy as angry-Mason was, I still preferred when he was happy.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?” I asked, trotting behind him. He was making his way towards the exit. We ditched Spanish and English. I had never ditched a class before, and I felt like a fugitive.

He pulled up outside of my house.

“I’ll be back,” he said. I nodded and got out of the Jeep. He drove off. I had never seen Mason so upset. I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with what Bret represented. Bret was a past that Mason wanted to forget. I knew Mason still struggled with guilt about how things had been between us the last three years, and I tried to assure him I had let that stuff go, but I knew he thought about it a lot. I didn’t know how to emphasize to him I wanted to just move on. High school would be over soon, and I would get to start the important years of my life. He had read an article about teen suicide in the LGBTQ+ community a few weeks ago. He looked sick after he finished it. I remember he looked at me seriously and said, “You could’ve killed yourself.”

Mason returned. He had gone to the gym. I looked at him and saw his huge arms and thighs looked pumped. He went to my bathroom and took a shower. I sat on the bed waiting. He exited the bathroom in a towel. His belly hung over the pink fabric. He dropped the towel revealing a beautiful ass. He looked so huge. Bret hadn’t stood a chance this afternoon.

I was always semi-erect around Mason but looking at him naked in front of me had me fully hard. He walked over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He leaned his body against mine. I could hear him breathing. I felt him press into me bit by bit. He was kind of whimpering, like a big Mastiff puppy.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” he said.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I placed my hand on his monstrous thigh, squeezing it gently. “You stood up for me today, and I’m still hard thinking about how hot it was.” He grabbed me, pulling me close and passionately kissing me.

He ended up on his back in the bed and I ended up giving him head. It was the least I could do for how he stood up for me. And Mason couldn’t help himself, so I ended up getting head in return. But then I couldn’t help myself and found myself with his dick in my mouth again. It was a cycle that I didn’t really want to see broken.

That fight with Bret didn’t go unchecked by school administration. Mason’s parents had to come have a meeting with the principal and the dean. Both he and Bret were let off with warnings, but the school made it very clear that they could not protect Mason from the law next time, considering he was nineteen and Bret was only seventeen.

He moved back home after that, which was honestly kind of sad. We’d only gotten to live with one another for less than a month. He and his father did finally start talking again, but Mason told me it was strained conversation.

Nobody messed with us again until Valentine’s Day. In our school there was a fundraiser where a person could purchase a flower to send to a friend or crush or romantic partner. Of course, I had never gotten one, but Mason used to get tons of them every year. I went to buy one and I wrote a card for it. I wrote: Mason, I love you. Yours forever, Oliver.

I thought it looked sophisticated and mature. I paid the two dollars, took the carbon copy receipt, and went to class. I wondered if he even thought about those stupid flowers. Then I wondered if he got me one. I was getting all excited thinking about it, but I knew to keep my expectations in check.

I met him before first period. We were working when the flowers were delivered. I didn’t expect one this period. They measured out the number of flowers a person was to receive and equally distributed them throughout the day. If a person were to receive only one rose, they’d get it during their last period of the day. But I got one anyway, in first period, which meant I had more coming. There was no name. It was a card with one word: Faggot.

Mason looked at me to see who it was from, but I quickly put it in my pocket. “I hope you’re not cheating on me,” he joked, smiling at me.

“Of course not!”

“Well, why can’t I see the card?”

“It’s mine,” I said. This was likely Bret fucking with me again. I could not let Mason know about this. He might actually kill Bret this time, and I didn’t very much think orange was Mason’s color. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” he replied sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He was mad. Throughout the day I got the flowers with the same card. With each one, Mason got more and more unnerved. I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. At lunch he didn’t say a word. He ate a lot extra so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. I didn’t want him to see them. We couldn’t afford another incident like when he beat Bret to a pulp over a cupcake. He’d go berserk if he knew what was happening.

We walked to Spanish in silence. I got another card, and it said the same thing, but with a name—Bret. Surprise, surprise. I knew it was him. Nobody else would go so far to harass someone. Mason gave me a look of death and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to go home. English came and I got my first nice flower all day. It said: I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world. Love, Mason.

I put that one in a separate pocket. Mason had gotten his first flower, which I was assuming was the one I purchased for him. He scanned it over and over. I hoped he liked it. Maybe it would make up for not showing him the Bret cards. I looked up at him and smiled. He stood up and stormed out; I followed. I heard Bret laughing as I entered the hallway.

“Mason! Wait up, what’s wrong? Mason!” He turned to face me. I saw he was trying to think about what to do. He pushed me into a locker, and it felt like he was getting ready to punch me.

“You—,” he started. He pulled out the card and read. “‘It’s over, Mason. I’ve gotten you back for three years of absolute torment. Did you really think I’d ever want to be with you, especially now? You’re a joke.’” Mason hadn’t stopped growing since moving back home. He was up another ten pounds, putting him at 303 pounds. I loved every ounce of him. I would never send that. I hoped he’d be smart enough to realize that.

“Please don’t hit me,” I exclaimed, flinching. He didn’t. Thank Jesus; he could have given me internal bleeding or something.

“I’d never put my hands on you,” he said angrily. Now he was mad and offended.

“I would never send that,” I said, pulling out the carbon copy receipt. “Look.” I handed him the card and he read it, looking relieved.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. He was getting worked up. I had a bad feeling. “I knew you didn’t send this, and it still got me emotional. I’m so sorry for pushing you. I’d never hit you. I swear I wouldn’t. But those cards you’ve been getting all day have really fucked with my head.” I reached into my pocket and handed him the cards. I hadn’t wanted him to see them, but at this point I had to be honest.

“These are the cards I’ve been getting all day, okay?” He read them and really went insane, heading for the exit.

“Mason, we’re going home, yeah?”

“Hell no. We are waiting for Bret and this is going to end today. Oliver, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I might just kill him.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Not if it’s after school.” That was ridiculous. He’d so still get in trouble. We passed through the doors leading outside as the afternoon announcements came on.

“You can’t do this Mason,” I said, trying my best to calm him down. “You’ve got to let this go.” The bell finally rang and two minutes later kids surged out of the building. He ran right at Bret who had been describing what he had done to two of his own beta-males. Bret was knocked to the ground.

Bret looked up at Mason from the ground. Mason was in a t-shirt alone. We hadn’t stopped at our lockers. The sleeves in the underarm area ripped with the advanced movement of his huge arms. Mason leaned over and punched him, harder and harder.

He stood straight up, hovering over Bret who was still laying on the pavement. “You ever fuck with us again, you’ll get your ass kicked worse than this.” There was a group around us, which formed a circle. Mason then spoke to them, turning every so often. It was almost like we were in the Colosseum, Mason a gladiator orating to the spectators.

“I like men,” Mason began. “But don’t let that confuse you. I can still fuck up anybody who steps to me or my boyfriend.” People were hanging on his every word. It was amazing.

“And this bitch over here,” Mason continued, gesturing towards Bret, “Has the weirdest fucking obsession with us. He went out of his way to send my boyfriend flowers all day today. I guess you could say he has a little crush.” This had people laughing now. “Babe, you should thank him for the flowers, but do let him down easy.”

“Uh, thanks for the flowers,” I said, uneasy having been put on the spot, but excited to be standing up to Bret in front of everyone for the first time. “But I’ve already got a boyfriend, so maybe you could find someone else.” The circle erupted in a resounding ‘Ohhhh!’ and lots of laughter.

“So who started this?” Mason asked the bloodthirsty spectators.

“Bret!” the crowd shouted. “Bret! Bret! Bret!” Mason started to walk off and I followed close behind him. The crowd parted so we could pass. I had never wanted to fuck him more than now. We could still hear people chanting and laughing as we made it to his Jeep.

Once inside, he drove towards my house, eyes focused intently on the road. His stomach growled loudly. There was a slight pause after the growling ceased, and then we both laughed loudly.

“Now I’m starving,” he said. I knew exactly what I wanted to make him.

As soon as we made it to my house, I started cooking. Mason went off to take a shower, saying something about needing to cool off. The whole situation with Bret still had him slightly heated. I was definitely still wound up from that encounter too, but not in the same way as Mason. Just thinking about how he’d stood up for the both of us had me soaking through my briefs. I’d been hard for some time now, ever since Mason’s whole ‘Are you not entertained?’ bit.

I cooked and cooked and cooked until I ended up making much more food than I thought we needed. It was just the two of us, but I’d made enough for five. I just couldn’t control myself when cooking for Mason. I loved seeing how much he could put away, how pleased his face would be when he ate an excessive amount of food.

I made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. It was a dumb concept that I came up with back in middle school during the early days of my culinary exploration. The main component was a mozzarella-stuffed chicken breast that I would deep fry. I served it with macaroni and cheese. And, even though I knew it was overkill, broccoli covered in a cheese sauce (I’d even made a dozen rolls, and no, they weren’t cheese stuffed). It was a lactose-intolerant person’s worst nightmare, but Mason had never had any problems with dairy. He probably couldn’t go on living without it. I made five of those chicken breasts, a huge serving dish worth of broccoli, and enough mac and cheese for a family of four.

About an hour later he came lumbering down the stairs. I’d just finished plating the food, with parsley and everything. He sat at the table, shirtless, and I took in his quarter-sized nipples. His pecs were still firm but had a nice layer of fat over them. My mouth didn’t water when I thought about dinner, but Mason’s tits had me almost drooling all over myself. I never would have thought he would be this big. I set his plate and silverware in front of him, and then the basket of rolls.

“I made too much,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said, smiling up at me from his seat at the table, “especially since you made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special.” I felt my face go hot. It meant a lot to me that Mason remembered the name of this meal, but I needed to come up with a new one. Something that wasn’t so embarrassing. I wasn’t twelve anymore.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” I said, walking towards the fridge and pouring him a glass of milk.

“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time getting started. He didn’t even use silverware to eat the chicken breast, simply picking it up and taking a large bite, pulling the meat away from his mouth causing an impressive cheese pull.

In this moment, watching him happily eat, I realized that Mason hadn’t really changed all that much since we were younger. Yeah, he was over a hundred pounds bigger and six inches taller, but he was still the same silly, considerate, sometimes hot-headed guy I’d always had a crush on.

I must’ve been staring, because he looked up from his plate, catching my gaze. He stopped racing through the food on his plate, eating more slowly.

“What’re you staring at?” he asked, chewing, stabbing a broccoli floret with his fork. “You haven’t even started eating yet.”

“I just really love you,” I said honestly. “I can’t help staring.”

“C’mon Oli,” he said, his face reddening, “You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not!”

“Well, I love you too,” he said, his face still flushed. “I’m really lucky, you know? Who’d ever think a guy like you would be interested in me.”

Whoa—Mason was always surprising me. My initial assessment wasn’t completely fair to him. Mason had changed. In a way that was really significant.

He’d become more courageous.

He was brave enough to come out, to date me, to change his body in a way that wasn’t considered conventionally attractive. Even if all the things I loved about him from our youth were the same, I was fortunate enough to be able to love the man he was becoming as well.

I stood, going to refill his plate. He ate this serving just like the first, like if he didn’t get it all down fast enough someone might come and take it away. I sat down and watched, picking at the portion I’d set aside for myself. I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea how he ate so much. He’d eat a roll every so often. I was able to refill his plate once more, and he ate that with the same amount of gusto. He got up the excess cheese that remained on the plate with the last roll.

“Fuck, that was just as good as I remembered.” He leaned back, placing his hands on his belly, rubbing it gently.

“Can—uh, can I do that?” I asked. He grinned.

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said, turning in the chair away from the table. He spread his legs, waiting for me. I went to the other side of the table as he pushed away from it. I knelt on the ground and rubbed his bloated gut, my hands traveling to his sides so I could squeeze the love handles pushed up by his underwear.

I moved toward his broad chest, squeezing the flesh there as well. Fuck, there was just so much of him. He was only wearing underwear, so I saw he was getting hard. I leaned forward, and began to kiss his belly, licking around his navel. His stomach tensed and relaxed.

“You like this gut?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“I love this gut,” I replied. His dick jumped in his underwear.

He stood, pushing me back slightly. I looked up from beneath his belly, and it made me think about that day at the bike racks a few months ago. I’d thought of him as a giant then, but compared to what I was looking at now, that version of Mason was minuscule.

Mason removed his dick from his boxers, and I leaned forward, resting my mouth at the base of his penis above his balls. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of his skin after a shower. I licked his shaft slowly, raising a hand to feel the heft of his belly above me. It didn’t need my support, as it was a solid sphere that hadn’t gotten large enough yet to droop. I thought about that phrasing and it sent me to another level of arousal. Large enough yet. Mason would likely be bigger than this soon. 300 pounds was the point where most guys would fight to get their waistlines in check, but I knew Mason didn’t care about that. He’d want more, and I wanted to help him.

I heard him moaning above me, one of his hands grabbing my hair, the other on the side of his gut. “Fuck, Oli,” he grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

I stopped and stood up.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

He agreed to head up to my room, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing me ravenously first. He loved kissing, and I definitely wasn’t against it, but we hadn’t moved yet. Mason was still kissing me. On my neck. My forehead. My cheeks. He reached for his penis, but I stopped him.

“Upstairs,” I reiterated.

He nodded. His eyes had that glazed over look again. He followed me to the staircase, and as I ascended, I heard the stairs creaking loudly as he heavily padded up after me.

I wanted to fuck him with all I had. Each time I wanted more and more to have the best sex ever, and each time it was the best sex ever. I didn’t know if it was because we were getting better at it or the fact that our relationship was becoming so much more serious, but whatever it was, I hoped it continued.

He pulled off his boxers and leaned over my desk, his beefy forearms resting on top. His strong legs were spread apart, and his knees were slightly bent. In this position, his stomach seemed more noticeable. It hung down, round and bloated. I wanted to cradle it in my hands from behind.

I slid on a condom and carried the lube over to where he was waiting for me. I covered my dick in the slick substance before gently massaging his hole. “I’m ready,” he breathed. “I want it, Oliver.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed onto one of his love handles as I led my member inside of him. This ass was everything. I’m pretty sure he worked it out extra hard because he knew I loved it so much. Seeing my hands cradling his meaty cheeks was unreal. I didn’t have abnormally large hands, but he had such a massive ass, they looked almost feminine. I pushed my entire dick inside of him, thrusting back and forth more forcefully than I had before. He moaned and moaned—saying my name, telling me how good it felt. I felt the tingle I came to expect wash over me. I wasn’t sure if it was endorphins or what, but I was close to finishing and feeling amazing.

He took a sharp intake of breath, shooting cum across the front drawers of my desk. I pushed hard a few more times. I’d never felt so good before. I came loads, my legs turning to jelly for a few moments, almost causing me to lose my balance. “Aw, fuck,” I managed to get out, grabbing his hips gently.

We moved over to the bed and laid back. His belly moved up and down.

“That gets better and better,” he panted.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He rolled over on top of me. I loved that, the weight of his fat body pressing into me. It was incredible. He just laid there, kissing my face and neck until I had to tap out. He rolled back over, smiling.

The next thing I remember was waking up. We’d fallen asleep. It was now around eight. I tried to shake him awake.

“Mason,” I said. “Mason wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

“Mason,” I laughed, “You can’t stay here. Your parents will wonder where you are.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” he said into a pillow. “Let them wonder.”

“But our homework,” I said half-heartedly, also not in the mood to complete any schoolwork or send him on his way. I got up and checked my assignment book. Nothing was due tomorrow. I locked my door and got back in bed. He turned so I could place my head on his chest. He had his arm wrapped around me. I could have stayed like that forever.

Mason dozed back off almost immediately, but I laid awake thinking.

We only had a couple of months left in senior year. I’d gotten into my first-choice university and all of my safety schools, but there was definitely something that had me reconsidering going away to a four-year university. I didn’t really have any idea of what I wanted to major in. Nothing in the traditional sense was appealing to me. I didn’t want to be a teacher or a lawyer or a nurse.

Being with Mason reignited a passion that had laid dormant for years. I loved being in the kitchen and perfecting different recipes. Attending culinary school might be what I want to do post-graduation. It might have been youthful optimism, but I could see myself one day owning a restaurant.

Mason was going to the college thirty minutes from where we lived. I knew there was a program near him that was accredited and offered lots of opportunities for growth. I could feel myself getting excited by this idea. I hadn’t even been this excited opening up my college acceptance letters. This passion had to mean something. It just had to.

I could do it. I would do it! I’d always longed for a life outside of high school, and now I was starting to see that life more clearly. Even if the future was a mixed bag of possibilities, I knew one thing for certain.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Mason.

The End!