Quads4Days

Working on building a Gaining multiverse, one fattened waistline at a time.

[quads4days]

The Widower's Widening

Luke Barrett stood in front of the bedroom mirror, morning sunlight creeping gently through half-open blinds, casting soft stripes across the pale-blue walls. The comforting scent of toast wafted up from downstairs, mingling with the distant giggles of his two kids, already bright-eyed and bounding about the kitchen. Life, by all measures, was good.

Luke buttoned up his crisp, navy work pants, pausing halfway. There it was again—that slight pinch, the uncomfortable snugness around his waistline. He glanced down, eyebrows furrowing gently as he studied himself. His blonde hair, still tousled from sleep, caught the sunlight, framing his solid, rugby-hardened features. Broad shoulders, powerful chest—he had always been proud of his build, earned through years of tackles and scrums.

Yet today, something felt different. Just a subtle tightness, a whisper of a change.

He inhaled slowly, sucking in briefly to fasten the final button, feeling the subtle pressure of the fabric against his abdomen. "Must've shrunk in the wash," he muttered softly to himself, dismissing the thought almost immediately, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But deep down, beneath that easy grin, lay the quiet truth that had been gently nudging him these past months—a more sedentary life had begun its slow, silent transformation.

Luke turned sideways, inspecting his reflection once more. His hand instinctively patted his belly, fingers noting a softness beneath the shirt fabric that hadn’t been there before. Shaking his head, he chuckled softly at himself, dismissing the thought again as his kids' laughter grew louder.

With a final glance, Luke moved toward the doorway, not realising that each snug button was a gentle foreshadowing—a quiet promise that the days of his rugby-toned physique might soon become just a fond memory.

Breakfast was a blur of laughter, spilled juice, and buttery pancakes that Luke had initially planned to skip but found himself casually devouring alongside his children. After dropping them off at school, he navigated through morning meetings at work, each punctuated by an unexpected pastry here, a handful of biscuits there—small indulgences that he barely registered.

Lunch came sooner than expected—a hearty sandwich from the café around the corner, generously layered with meats and cheese. By the afternoon, a quick stop for a coffee morphed into a latte and a slice of cake, comfortably justified as fuel for the gym session he promised himself.

At the gym, the familiar scent of rubber mats and sweat greeted him warmly. He donned a snug-fitting singlet, the fabric stretched taut across his still-powerful chest and broad shoulders. Lifting weights felt good; muscles flexing, veins prominent, reminding him of his rugby days. Yet, as he paused between sets, Luke caught sight of his reflection. Thick, he noted with quiet amusement, broader and fuller than he'd ever seen himself.

He chuckled softly, a gentle acceptance settling within him. It was almost winter, after all—maybe embracing a bulk wasn't such a bad thing.

As Luke moved onto his next set, he felt a familiar slap on his back and turned, breaking into a warm grin. His best mate, Sam Carter, had arrived—lean, blonde, and muscular, though lankier and less thickset than Luke. They had known each other since their teenage rugby days, a friendship forged in tackles, victories, and losses. Sam had been Luke's best man and his steadfast rock when Luke's wife had tragically passed away.

Recently, something subtle had shifted between them—an evolving friendship that neither openly acknowledged but both quietly appreciated. They trained side by side, joking and teasing as always, each set accompanied by light-hearted banter.

"Mate, you're looking comfortable," Sam teased, eyeing Luke's broader shoulders and thicker middle. "Planning to play prop again, are we?"

Luke laughed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just bulking for a change, mate. Nothing wrong with a bit extra insulation."

They finished their session, laughter echoing softly around the now quieter gym, heading towards the showers. Steam enveloped them, warm and comforting as their conversation continued amidst jokes and friendly jibes.

"You sure that singlet's going to fit next week?" Sam grinned cheekily, glancing over with mock seriousness.

Luke chuckled, stepping closer and playfully giving Sam a gentle shove. "Keep talking, string bean."

Sam laughed easily, shaking his head. "You’re just jealous of my abs, mate."

Luke smirked, then impulsively leaned in, placing a quick, friendly kiss on Sam’s cheek. "Yeah, yeah, show off, you love this."

Sam's eyes sparkled with amusement as he whipped his towel, snapping it sharply against Luke's leg, both men dissolving into laughter. They dressed, camaraderie and warmth filling the air—both quietly aware of the comforting closeness that had started to define their friendship.

Life soon returned to its relentless pace for Luke—balancing the endless demands of work, late-night reports, children's school activities, meals, laundry, and bedtime stories. Each day felt like running an unending marathon, fatigue steadily becoming his constant companion.

---

One evening, exhaustion and solitude pressed down harder than usual. The quiet house felt emptier, the absence of his wife suddenly raw and painful. Luke sank onto the couch, shirtless, surrounded by scattered toys, half-eaten dinners, and remnants of a day's chaos. The ache of loss became unbearable. He reached for his phone, texting Sam a single word: "Help."

Sam arrived swiftly, finding Luke exactly where he’d imagined—slumped and vulnerable. Silently, Sam took charge, gently guiding Luke’s children to bed with practiced care. Returning to the living room, he sat beside his friend and embraced him without a word.

Luke's shoulders shook gently as tears finally spilled over, his grief melting into the comforting warmth of Sam's embrace. Sam held him tightly, absorbing Luke's quiet pain, noticing with affection how Luke's larger, softer frame pressed into him. He felt the weight and warmth of Luke’s thickened stomach, a comforting presence rather than a burden.

Gradually, Luke calmed, breathing steadied, tears subsiding. As if to break the poignant silence, Luke's stomach growled audibly, causing both men to chuckle softly.

"Pizza?" Sam offered gently, still holding Luke close.

"Definitely," Luke replied, a faint, grateful smile finally returning to his face.

---

One evening, Luke and Sam took the kids out for dinner at a bustling buffet restaurant. Both men playfully piled each other's plates high, teasing and daring each other to eat more. Sam grinned mischievously, nudging Luke. "Come on, big guy, walk the talk."

Luke laughed and matched Sam's challenge, filling his friend's plate with even more food. Their banter continued throughout dinner, each jokingly egging the other on until they were both completely stuffed.

Returning home, the two men collapsed onto the couch, shirtless and utterly full, their stomachs distended and heavy. They exchanged good-natured teasing about who had eaten more, laughter softening into comfortable silence.

Impulsively, Luke placed his hand gently on Sam's rounded belly, feeling its warmth and fullness. The gesture hung in the air, their eyes meeting with sudden, quiet understanding. "Maybe," Luke murmured thoughtfully, "we should see where this bulk takes us."

Sam smiled warmly, placing his hand over Luke’s. "I'm in if you are."

Both men grinned, deciding right there, amidst the comfortable mess of toys and laughter, to embrace the journey ahead.

On a quiet evening, after asking Sam to come over and help put the kids to bed, Luke lay stretched out on the couch, groaning softly from another one of Sam's indulgent dinners. His shirt was off, revealing his broad, muscular frame softened by his newfound bulk. Sam sat beside him, concern mingling with affection in his gaze.

"Feeling alright there, big guy?" Sam teased gently, his hand softly pressing against Luke’s full, rounded belly.

"Just… stuffed," Luke groaned, half-smiling through his discomfort. "Maybe overdid it tonight."

"Let me help," Sam offered quietly, beginning to gently massage Luke’s swollen stomach. His hands moved slowly, easing tension and bringing warmth and relief to Luke's body.

Luke sighed deeply, relaxing beneath Sam's touch. The intimate moment stretched out in comfortable silence, the warmth between them growing. Sam’s hands slowed, and their eyes met, a gentle understanding passing silently between them.

Without words, Luke reached up, gently cupping Sam's cheek. Drawn together naturally, their lips met softly, tentatively at first, then more confidently, deepening into an affirming kiss. When they parted, they rested forehead against forehead, breathing softly, smiles spreading gently across their faces.

"Guess we're really in this together," Luke murmured, squeezing Sam’s hand gently.

"Yeah," Sam whispered back, warmth filling his voice. "Together."

---

Luke woke suddenly in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat from the oppressive summer heat. Unable to shake thoughts of their recent buffet embrace, he grabbed his phone and texted Sam.

Sam responded immediately, admitting he was awake too, similarly unable to get their intimate moment out of his head. Minutes later, Sam arrived at Luke's doorstep, grinning shyly and holding two large tubs of ice cream.

"Is this what you really want, Luke?" Sam asked softly, stepping closer.

Luke smirked, the moonlight accentuating his muscular, bulked frame, his physique strong and softened at the edges from recent indulgences. Without a word, he lifted Sam effortlessly into his arms, carrying him toward the king-sized bed.

They embraced warmly, feeling the heat and comfort of each other's bodies. Luke's powerful arms encircled Sam's leaner, yet muscular frame, appreciating the firmness of his friend's body pressed tightly against his own bulkier form.

Settling together on the bed, Sam playfully began feeding Luke spoonful after spoonful of rich, creamy ice cream. Luke eagerly devoured each bite, their laughter mingling with friendly kisses, each touch deepening their bond.

Eventually satisfied, the two men lay back in blissful exhaustion, wrapped in each other's arms. Luke's full belly rose and fell rhythmically as they drifted gently into sleep, content and committed to whatever lay ahead.

---

The weight had finally hit them both like a tonne of bricks. Months later, Luke and Sam stood together at the gym, laughing between breaths, sweat glistening on their now substantially heavier bodies. Both men were visibly fatter, each sporting generous spare tyres around their once-trim waists, though Luke carried noticeably more weight.

In the locker room afterward, they surveyed their changed physiques with good-natured amusement. Luke's formerly muscular chest had softened, powerful pecs now cushioned beneath a layer of plush, warm fat. His thickened belly protruded prominently, folding slightly over his waistband, marked clearly by the outline of snug-fitting gym shorts. His broad shoulders and strong arms retained their size but now bore an undeniable softness.

Sam, though still leaner compared to Luke, had also undergone a significant transformation. His previously defined abs had vanished beneath a comfortable, rounded belly, clearly visible as he stood shirtless. His lean muscles had been enveloped in softness, creating a physique both solid and noticeably padded.

Both men chuckled, poking and prodding each other's softened frames affectionately. The locker room filled with their laughter, the warmth of their friendship deepening as they embraced their bulk, ready for whatever journey lay ahead.

---

One sunny Sunday morning, Luke stood in front of the mirror once more, wrestling with a pair of shorts that stubbornly refused to cooperate. His new, significantly expanded body made even the simplest tasks challenging. As he strained, he couldn't help but smile at his reflection, genuinely amused and intrigued by his transformation.

Luke took a moment to truly examine himself, noting every softened detail. His face was fuller, cheeks rounded and softer, giving him a jovial, friendly appearance. His neck had thickened, broadening into solid shoulders, now coated with a layer of soft padding. His arms were larger, still powerful beneath their plush covering, but undeniably softer and fuller, especially around the biceps and triceps.

His chest had lost its rugged definition, replaced by a comfortably padded softness, a gentle bounce evident with every movement. Luke’s belly had grown considerably, forming a prominent, round gut that hung generously over the waistband of his shorts, refusing to be contained. He admired the impressive curve, running his hands along its broad expanse, relishing the sensation of warmth and fullness beneath his fingers.

His hips and thighs had expanded too, thighs rubbing softly together, thick and solid, each movement more pronounced as his frame carried greater mass. Even his calves seemed fuller, his entire physique rounded and softened by newfound weight.

He chuckled softly, realising for the first time how much he genuinely loved this larger version of himself—every new inch, every soft fold. His heart beat faster with excitement at the prospect of growing even bigger. Luke smirked mischievously as he grabbed his phone, quickly planning a lavish lunch to indulge himself and ensure Sam joined him on their continued journey toward an even fatter, more fulfilling future.

---

Across town, Sam stood in his bedroom, desperately trying to squeeze into a pair of shorts. His wardrobe, once filled with clothes tailored to his lanky, athletic frame, now barely contained garments that could accommodate his new size. Sam struggled, tugging the shorts past his substantially widened hips and thicker, rounder rear.

His once lean body was now undeniably fat, each formerly sharp line softened significantly. His chest had filled out, losing definition entirely, replaced by a gently rounded softness. Arms that were once lean and sinewy now carried a pleasant padding, shaking softly with each tug and pull as he wrestled with the shorts.

His midsection had seen the most dramatic change. What had previously been firm and toned was now a prominent belly, comfortably rounded and spilling out generously over the waistband of his shorts. Sam paused, catching his breath, and gave his belly a playful shake, watching with amused fascination as it jiggled and swayed.

His thighs had thickened considerably, touching softly when he walked, and his calves had also grown fuller, balancing his new proportions. Sam's entire body now displayed the indulgent lifestyle he and Luke had embraced, the lean physique of his past becoming an increasingly distant memory.

As his phone buzzed with Luke’s message, Sam smirked, excitement building. He gave his ample belly one more appreciative shake, relishing the feeling of his new softness. With a determined tug, he finally managed to secure his shorts, breathing heavily but satisfied. This was just the beginning, he realized eagerly, for both him and Luke, and he couldn't wait to see where their mutual indulgence would take them next.

One evening, Luke and Sam found themselves entwined in bed, their passion ignited but tempered by the reality of their significantly heavier bodies. As they moved together, they both became acutely aware of the new challenges their indulgence presented. Their large, rounded bellies pressed firmly against each other, the collision of their considerable girth both exhilarating and cumbersome.

Luke's once powerful and agile movements were now slower, more deliberate, hindered by his substantial gut. Sam, too, felt the struggle; his previously lithe frame now heavy and awkward, the softness of his belly and hips shifting with every motion.

Yet despite the physical difficulties, the realization of just how much weight they'd gained filled them both with excitement and joy. Each effortful movement heightened their passion, the intensity of their connection amplified by their shared indulgence.

Eventually, spent and exhausted, they lay side by side on the bed, breathing heavily, their expansive bellies rising and falling dramatically. Luke laughed softly, placing a gentle hand on Sam’s rounded gut. Sam smiled breathlessly, looking deeply into Luke’s eyes with mutual understanding and affection.

After a long moment, Sam grinned mischievously, breaking the comfortable silence. "Should we order food?"

Luke chuckled warmly, squeezing Sam’s hand. "Absolutely."

[quads4days]

The Weight Of Us 11: Whispers in the Hallways

It didn’t take long for the faculty and students at Hawthorne High to notice the changes in James and Lachlan. They had always been a popular pair, well-regarded for their camaraderie and easygoing presence around campus. But lately, they had become the center of quiet conversations and sideways glances, each day bringing more curious murmurs about the “growing duo.”

James, once thin and unassuming, now walked with a pronounced heaviness in his step. His expanding frame had made fitting into his work clothes a daily struggle. Where his trousers once hung loose, they now hugged his thighs and waist with a relentless snugness, digging into the soft flesh of his hips and belly, creating slight creases and visible tension across the fabric. His shirts, too, had become woefully inadequate for his burgeoning size. Each button stretched tightly across his chest and stomach, occasionally revealing slivers of the pale, softened skin beneath when he moved too quickly or leaned forward.

The effect was undeniable: James had become a noticeably rotund figure, his body rounded and padded in ways that softened his once-sharp presence. His belly pressed forward prominently, rounding out in a way that pushed against desks and tables, his chin now softened with an extra layer of fullness that added warmth to his every expression. His colleagues, once accustomed to his thin, lanky form, couldn’t help but exchange surprised looks as he squeezed himself into chairs or shifted awkwardly in staff meetings.

Lachlan, though sharing in the steady gains, had maintained a bit of his former athletic build, thanks to his sporadic attempts at gym sessions. His body was thick with a mix of muscle and fat, his chest still broad and his arms still holding hints of definition. But even Lachlan could not deny that his belly had grown prominent, a soft, round expanse that now strained against the front of his shirt, sitting heavily over his waistband. His gym routines kept his frame somewhat solid, yet he had become undeniably softer, his face fuller, his physique less sculpted and more… expansive.

The whispers among the staff were tinged with fascination and curiosity. And as if feeding into this attention, many colleagues began to bring them food—treats left on their desks, pastries offered in the lounge, extra slices of cake at birthday celebrations. It seemed the school had become unwittingly invested in the pair’s transformation, and the two men leaned into it with an unspoken thrill.

One morning, Lachlan found James in the faculty lounge, struggling with his usual morning coffee as he tried to settle his rounded form into a chair that had grown increasingly ill-fitting. The chair creaked slightly as he shifted, his belly pressing against the edge of the table, his shirt taut over the swell of his middle.

“Morning, mate,” Lachlan greeted, sitting across from him. His eyes took in James’s appearance—the way his friend’s body had continued to expand, the soft rolls that formed around his waist, the way his clothes seemed a size too small at every angle.

James looked up, his cheeks flushing slightly as he realized Lachlan’s gaze lingered on his stomach. But rather than look away, he smiled, an odd pride flickering in his eyes. “Morning, Lachlan,” he replied, setting down his coffee and giving his belly an affectionate pat. “I’m getting used to… this,” he said, motioning to his expanded form, “and, well… I think I quite like it.”

Lachlan raised an eyebrow, both surprised and amused. “Really now? You’ve grown a fair bit. Must be getting a bit inconvenient, yeah?”

James shook his head, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Not inconvenient at all. Actually… I love it. All the attention, the whispers. It feels… good.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And, I think… I want to get even bigger.”

Lachlan blinked, surprised, though he couldn’t deny the thrill of hearing his friend’s confession. “You’re serious?”

James nodded, his hands resting on the expanse of his belly, a quiet confidence in his gaze. “Completely. I want to see just how far I can go.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of James’s words settling between them. Lachlan felt a strange pride in his friend’s decision, the commitment he’d made to embrace himself fully. And in that moment, he knew he’d do everything he could to support James’s journey, wherever it might lead.

“Well,” Lachlan said, leaning back with a grin, “if that’s the case, I’d be honored to help you get there. And maybe… we’ll see if I can keep up.”

The two friends laughed, their shared resolve strengthening as they looked forward to the weeks ahead, each more certain than ever that they were on a path that they would travel together. And as they rose from the table, their bodies pressing comfortably into the space around them, they knew that the whispers, the food, the attention—it was all part of a story that was far from over.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 10: A Weighty Reunion

A few weeks had passed since their indulgent weekend together, and yet the effects lingered on both men. Neither could quite shake the memory of that day—the laughter, the closeness, and the exhilarating thrill of watching their bodies swell and expand. Both had found themselves eating a bit more freely, pushing their limits, almost as if to recreate that feeling on their own. And so, by the time they met again at James’s house for another “boys’ weekend,” the changes in each were unmistakable.

Lachlan knocked on the door, feeling the weight of his own body settle as he shifted from one foot to the other. His belly had grown more prominent, rounding out into a substantial, heavy curve that pressed forward with every step. The softness he’d noticed weeks before had only deepened, giving his once-muscular arms and shoulders a plushness that made his shirts cling uncomfortably. His trousers, stretched taut over thickened thighs, dug into his sides as he waited for James to answer, yet he found himself enjoying the feeling—feeling grounded, full, complete.

When the door opened, Lachlan’s eyes widened. James stood before him, dressed in an oversized shirt that did little to hide the round, massive belly stretching outward, a heavy dome of softness that hung low over his waistband. His cheeks, fuller and rounder than ever, were flushed with excitement, and his arms, once thin and lean, had grown plump and padded, pressing against the sleeves of his shirt. The sight of his friend, transformed and unabashedly large, stirred a strange pride in Lachlan, a feeling that they’d come this far together.

“Mate,” Lachlan said with a grin, taking in every inch of James’s new size. “You’ve really grown, haven’t you?” James’s face lit up with a mixture of excitement and satisfaction as he stepped back to let Lachlan in, his heavy belly jostling with each movement. “I have,” he replied, his voice almost breathless. “But… I think I can go further. With a little help.”

The words hung in the air, an unspoken request laced with a sense of longing. Lachlan looked at him, feeling the thrill of their shared journey reignite. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and placed a steady hand on James’s belly, marveling at its warmth, its weight, the way it filled his hand completely.

“You want to get even bigger, then?” Lachlan asked, his voice low, almost teasing. James nodded, a glint of determination in his eyes. “I want to be huge, Lachlan. Make me… massive. I want to feel it—every inch, every pound.” Lachlan chuckled, feeling a surge of pride as he reached for the first plate they’d prepared for the night, laden with an assortment of treats, savory and sweet. He held up a pastry, watching as James’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and fed it to him, watching as he took each bite with relish, chewing slowly, savoring every mouthful. The sight of his friend, so openly eager, fueled Lachlan’s own desire to see him grow even larger.

They settled onto the couch, Lachlan feeding James one treat after another, both of them lost in the rhythm of indulgence. With every bite, James’s body seemed to relax further, his belly rounding out even more, pressing into his lap, his shirt riding up to reveal the soft, pale flesh of his lower stomach. His trousers strained with each movement, the waistband digging into the curve of his belly, yet he paid it no mind, focused entirely on the food and the satisfaction of each bite.

Lachlan couldn’t resist running his hand over James’s middle, feeling the fullness, the warmth, the heft of his friend’s body as it grew heavier under his touch. “You’re filling out nicely, mate,” he murmured, giving James’s belly a small squeeze. “But I think you’ve got room for more.” James grinned, leaning back to make more space for the food Lachlan was offering him. “Then don’t stop,” he replied, his voice thick with desire. “I want to feel it… to feel myself grow.”

They continued like this, hours passing as they worked through every plate, every snack, every treat they’d prepared. James’s belly swelled with each mouthful, expanding outward until it was an impressive, undeniable mound that dominated his frame, pressing heavily against his thighs. His cheeks grew flushed, his breathing slow and deep as he felt the fullness settle within him, each pound adding to the weight, the warmth, the satisfaction that filled the room.

At last, with a low groan, James shifted slightly, and the seams of his trousers, strained beyond reason, finally gave way with a sharp rip. He laughed, feeling the rush of freedom as his belly spilled forward, unrestrained, the fabric falling away to reveal his swollen, expansive middle. Lachlan placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze with a look of pride and approval. “You’ve done well, mate. You’re… huge. James leaned into him, pressing their softened bodies together, feeling the shared warmth, the mutual pride, the sense of satisfaction that came from knowing they’d both embraced every inch they’d gained. "I'm only getting started. You'll see, I'm going to be massive." James chuckled, grabbing another pastry and putting the entier thing into his mouth.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 9: Indulgence Beyond Limits

The sun was high in the sky by the time Lachlan and James stirred, their bodies pressed into the couch, surrounded by empty plates and crumpled wrappers. The weight of the previous night’s indulgence clung to them, and as they sat up, stretching and laughing groggily, neither felt the slightest urge to stop. This weekend was theirs, and they were reveling in every inch they’d gained.

As they pulled themselves together, Lachlan glanced over at James, who was already reaching for the next round of snacks he’d prepared. James’s shirt was gone, his belly a vast, rounded expanse that spilled over his waistband, warm and inviting. His arms were thick, no longer lean but full and solid, while his face had softened, his jawline now framed by a roundness that added warmth to his every expression. Lachlan could see the weight of each pound on his friend, and somehow, it only deepened their bond.

They settled back into their spots on the couch, still in nothing but their trousers, which had started to look alarmingly tight. Lachlan handed a handful of snacks to James, who took them eagerly, his eyes lighting up as he savored each bite. He leaned in closer, pressing his softened body against Lachlan’s, and shared a small, comfortable kiss—a simple, friendly gesture that felt like a natural part of their newfound closeness.

James grinned, his cheeks pink. "I am, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life" he admitted, his voice filled with a quiet pride. He shifted slightly, his body pressing more heavily into the couch.

Lachlan couldn't help but notice the subtle way James's breathing deepened, the flush of excitement in his face. It struck him then—his friend wasn't just enjoying the food. He was enjoying the weight, the fullness, the feeling of giving in completely. This was a fun hobby for Lachlan. For James, it seemed to be more.

Lachlan chuckled, brushing crumbs from his friend’s belly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, mate?” he asked, giving James’s belly an affectionate pat, feeling the warmth and weight of it under his hand.

“Well,” Lachlan said with a smirk, reaching for another handful of snacks, “you’re following what makes you happy. No shame in that.” He held a treat up for James, who took it with a shy smile, chewing slowly, savoring both the food and the shared moment.

They continued in this rhythm, feeding each other, laughing and sharing small kisses that felt as natural as their friendship itself. And as the minutes turned into hours, they allowed themselves to give in fully, pushing each other to eat more, to grow heavier and rounder with each bite. Their bellies swelled, their breaths came slower and deeper, and the weight of their bodies pressed them more firmly into the couch, neither willing to stop.

Lachlan could feel his own belly rounding out, pressing against the waistband of his trousers until it dug into his sides, his skin warm and taut. His once-muscular arms now had a plushness to them, a thickness that spoke of countless meals shared with James, each bite adding to the comfortable bulk he carried with him now. His chest, too, had softened, the muscle overlaid with a warm layer of fat that shifted with each breath. And yet, he found himself relishing every inch he’d gained, feeling as though his body was growing to match the depth of their friendship.

James once the smaller one in the friendship was now larger, even further along than Lachlan, his belly an impressive, soft mound that rose and fell with his heavy breaths, his thighs thick and full as they pressed against Lachlan’s own. His trousers, stretched beyond their limits, gave a sharp rip as the seam burst along the side, and he let out a breathless laugh, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

Lachlan looked at him, his own cheeks flushed, realizing then that he shared that excitement—this thrill of giving in, of embracing the weight and fullness of his body, of watching James do the same. He placed a gentle hand on his friend’s belly, running his fingers over the soft, warm expanse, marveling at how they’d come to this place, how they’d grown so much, together.

“You’re looking good, mate,” Lachlan murmured, his voice filled with pride as he gave James’s belly a small squeeze. “Guess we’ve both found what makes us happy.”

James met his gaze, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, and leaned in for another kiss, soft and unhurried, as though savoring every moment. And as they settled back into the couch, bodies pressed together, surrounded by the remnants of their shared feast, they each found themselves unable to contain their arousal and each excused themselves to ease their throbbing members.

They spent the rest of the day in that same rhythm, feeding each other, their laughter filling the room as they gave in fully to their friendship, their shared gluttony, and the joy of simply being together. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over their softened, expansive forms, James knew that this journey, this shared indulgence, was far from over, he just hoped Lachlan could keep up and didn’t back down as the fat continued to grow.

[quads4days]

The Weight Of Us 8 - Feast of Friendship

The weekend had finally arrived, and Lachlan and James had made plans that required little more than a couch, an old gaming console, and an embarrassingly large amount of food. James arrived with two enormous bags of snacks in tow, greeted by Lachlan’s equally impressive spread of pizzas, wings, and a cooler full of cold drinks. They exchanged knowing glances—this was going to be a weekend of pure indulgence.

As they settled onto Lachlan’s sprawling couch, controllers in hand and piles of food within easy reach, they began their marathon gaming session. Hours passed as they laughed, talked, and devoured everything in sight. It wasn’t long before both men were leaning back into the cushions, their bellies full and heavy from the steady intake. The occasional nudge or glance, combined with the feeling of their own stomachs pressing forward, created an awareness between them—a mutual appreciation of their shared journey and the weight of their friendship, in every sense.

Halfway through the evening, as James reached for a particularly messy slice of pizza, he felt a slight pressure against his belly. Then, with a small pop, the button of his shirt gave way, sending it flying across the room. He froze, momentarily stunned, then broke into a sheepish laugh, patting his now-exposed stomach, which spilled forward, round and soft.

“Well, I think that settles it,” James joked, his cheeks flushed. “These shirts aren’t made for a man of my… size anymore.”

Lachlan looked over, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his friend’s bare belly. This was the first time he’d seen James without the cover of fabric since their journey began, and he was struck by the fullness of his friend’s form. James’s belly was a prominent, pillowy mound, hanging low and spreading softly across his lap, framed by the curves of his chest, which had also thickened, his once angular collarbones now softened by a layer of fat. His arms, once lean, had grown padded and plush, resting comfortably on the swell of his belly.

Lachlan felt a strange mix of pride and camaraderie, and before he knew it, he was leaning over, reaching out. “Here, mate,” he murmured, fingers moving to the buttons of James’ shirt. With a quick nod from James, he unbuttoned his friend’s shirt fully, revealing the entirety of his soft, expansive stomach, which rose and fell with each steady breath.

“Looks like I’m not the only one filling out,” Lachlan teased, giving his own shirt a tug, feeling the tension over his own belly. Without another word, James leaned over and began to unbutton Lachlan’s shirt as well, exposing the layers of softness that had accumulated over the months. Lachlan’s belly was a rounded, heavy gut, full and warm, stretching outward in a proud curve that rested heavily on his thighs. His chest had grown plush, his shoulders softer, each part of him filled out and rounded with a fullness that mirrored James’s own transformation.

They looked at each other, the unspoken understanding between them growing stronger, and James couldn’t help but lean forward, planting a light, friendly kiss on Lachlan’s cheek. “You’ve done well, mate,” he murmured, patting Lachlan’s belly. “But let’s see if you can keep up.”

Lachlan laughed, feeling the rush of their shared challenge, and as if in answer, he reached for a handful of snacks, holding one up for James. “If that’s the game, I’m happy to play along,” he said with a grin, feeding his friend with a steady, teasing hand. James took each bite eagerly, sinking deeper into the couch, savoring the sensation of fullness as his body seemed to relax and expand with each indulgent mouthful.

As the night wore on, they continued to feed each other, exploring their shared fullness with a sense of wonder and pride. James’s fingers traced the curves of Lachlan’s belly, feeling the firmness beneath the softness, noting how his friend’s body had become a comforting, solid presence, just like their friendship. And in turn, Lachlan ran his hands over James’s middle, marveling at how his friend had transformed, growing into a softer, rounder version of himself.

The hours drifted by as they continued to gorge, laughing and teasing, both of them feeling their bodies grow heavier, softer, each bite adding to the warmth and weight that filled the room. By the time the early morning light began to filter through the windows, they had fully embraced this newfound closeness, their bellies stretched and bloated, their friendship strengthened in ways they’d never anticipated.

As they drifted off to sleep, side by side on the couch, their softened forms pressed together, they knew this was just another step in their journey— there was more yet to come.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 7 - A Shared Indulgence

The days grew longer and warmer, and so did the indulgent rhythms of James and Lachlan’s friendship. What had once been friendly camaraderie over meals had shifted into something else, something deeper and unspoken, as the two men discovered a shared hunger that extended beyond food. They had become like brothers, bound by a peculiar, thrilling urge to see how far they could let go—to abandon restraint, to watch each other grow, both physically and in spirit.

It was a subtle transformation, barely noticeable at first, but gradually it became impossible to ignore. Their laughter over heavy trays of burgers, their good-natured jibes about who had the softer middle or the thicker thighs—these moments had begun to take on a life of their own, and soon, they found themselves leaning into it, almost daring each other to go further.

“Mate, I think you’re starting to look like one of those ex rugby props,” James remarked one day, as Lachlan tucked into a towering stack of pancakes. Lachlan laughed, his whole belly shaking as he lifted another syrup-drenched bite to his mouth, his cheeks flushed with pride.

“Props? Nah, I’m bigger than that, don’t you think?” Lachlan replied, patting his belly with a satisfaction that seemed to grow with every meal. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Those trousers of yours look like they’re ready to burst.”

James’s face flushed, but he grinned, feeling an unexpected thrill at the remark. He leaned back in his chair, letting his own swollen belly press against the table, his hands instinctively settling over its now-substantial curve. His body had grown plush, his once-spindly limbs thickened and padded, soft flesh filling out his frame. His belly was round and heavy, spilling over his waistband and pressing against his shirt in a way that no longer embarrassed him.

He gave his middle an exaggerated pat. “You’re not wrong,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “But I’d like to see you keep up, big guy, I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

They grinned at each other, an unspoken challenge simmering between them, and soon, the meals became more than just meals. Each visit to the Rusty Kettle, each indulgent lunch in the faculty lounge, felt like a quiet contest—a mutual push to see who could grow bigger, softer, more unabashedly gluttonous.

As the weeks passed, their bodies swelled in earnest. Lachlan’s belly, once only a hint of softness over his jeans, had grown into a prominent, rounded mound that strained every button on his shirts, pressing out with an almost brazen confidence. His chest had softened as well, his pecs now heavy and full, a thick layer of fat rounding out his broad frame. His arms, once muscular, now had a soft plushness to them, and his thighs rubbed together with every step, chafing slightly under the strain of his new size.

James, too, was transforming in ways he never could have imagined. His belly had become a soft, pillowy mass that rested comfortably in his lap when he sat, pressing into his thighs and straining the fabric of his trousers. His once-sharp jawline had softened, his cheeks filling out with a warmth that seemed to match his newfound contentment. His arms and legs had thickened as well, each limb padded with a generous layer of fat that made every movement feel heavy, grounded.

They began to make a habit of comparing notes—of subtly teasing each other about whose belly pressed further out, whose clothes had grown tighter, whose appetite was greater. It was a playful rivalry, but beneath it lay a shared understanding, a strange thrill they both felt but never named aloud. They were growing for each other, feeding off each other’s indulgence, their friendship deepening with every bite.

One evening, as they sat together in their booth at the pub, bellies full and warm, Lachlan leaned back with a sigh, resting his hands on the considerable swell of his stomach. He glanced over at James, who was likewise rubbing his own belly, a lazy, contented smile on his face.

“You know,” Lachlan said, his voice soft but teasing, “I think we’re starting to outgrow this booth.”

James laughed, his cheeks flushed as he shifted in his seat, feeling the bulk of his body pressing against the table and the back of the booth. “You think?” he replied, giving his belly an affectionate pat. “We might need to start booking the whole back row if we keep this up.”

Lachlan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, only one way to find out.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To growing. In every way.”

James lifted his own glass, the words catching in his throat as he felt a strange sense of exhilaration, a heady rush of pride mixed with anticipation. “To growing,” he echoed, and they clinked glasses, both of them aware of the path they were on, and neither willing to turn back.

As they drained their drinks and ordered another round of food, they knew they were crossing a line, giving in fully to a shared, unspoken desire to keep growing, to embrace the gluttony that had brought them closer than either of them could have predicted—a friendship bound not just by shared moments, but by the weight, the fullness, and the indulgence that would continue to shape them both.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 6 - Expansion

Lachlan had always been the picture of confidence—a big guy with an even bigger personality, who seemed to laugh off any concerns about his growing size. But even he was beginning to notice the toll of those long, indulgent months. The last time he’d stepped on a scale, he’d been stunned at the number, though he quickly brushed it off, telling himself that he’d always been big. But now, as spring turned into the blazing heat of summer, his body was undeniably expanding well beyond what even he was used to.

It all came to a head one particularly sweltering afternoon. Lachlan and James had planned a casual walk through the local park, both of them desperate for some fresh air and sunshine after being cooped up with work. But the usually easygoing Lachlan found himself struggling to keep pace. His breath came in shorter bursts, and sweat clung to him, dripping from his forehead as he lumbered beside James.

James, though fuller than ever, still had a hint of his old, lanky self and walked a bit more easily. He glanced over, noticing Lachlan’s red face and labored breaths.

“Lachlan, mate… you alright?” James asked, pausing to let his friend catch up.

Lachlan waved a hand, brushing it off with a wheezy laugh. “Yeah, yeah… just… the heat, you know?” But he knew there was more to it. His legs felt heavy, his belly swayed with each step, and his thighs rubbed together uncomfortably. Even his shirt, which he’d bought only a few months back, felt tight across his chest and stomach, clinging to every curve and bulge.

After another block, they both gave in, finding a shaded bench where they could sit and catch their breath. Lachlan let out a groan as he sat down, his body sinking heavily into the seat, and instinctively rested his hands on his belly, feeling its considerable weight settle on his lap.

James looked over, a small, understanding smile on his face. “I know what you’re going through,” he said softly. “You’ve been there for me while I’ve adjusted… maybe I can help you now?”

Lachlan looked at James, the humour in his eyes softening. He’d always been the rock, the one pushing James to embrace his growth, to enjoy life without limits. But now, he found himself on the other side of the equation, realising that even he was hitting limits he hadn’t anticipated.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Lachlan said, his voice quieter than usual. “I always thought I was… invincible, you know? That a few extra pounds wouldn’t slow me down. I’ve always been the big rugby guy.” He gave his belly a gentle pat, chuckling. “Guess I’ve become more than I expected.”

James placed a hand on Lachlan’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been there for me, pushing me to enjoy life, to let go. Maybe it’s time to do the same for yourself.”

Lachlan’s eyes softened, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel the weight of his own transformation—not just the physical bulk but the change in how he saw himself. He’d been living as if he was still the lean, athletic guy he once was, despite the reality that he’d long outgrown that version of himself.

Over the following weeks, Lachlan let himself slow down, embracing his new size in a way he hadn’t allowed before. He stopped trying to squeeze into clothes that no longer fit and instead found a wardrobe that made him feel at ease with his changing shape. He even found himself embracing the smaller routines—like taking breaks when he needed, finding larger, sturdier seats, and, as James suggested with a grin, “reclaiming the entire lounge sofa” for his comfort.

By the time summer reached its peak, Lachlan had fully embraced his new reality. His belly had grown rounder and fuller, jutting proudly as he walked, no longer hidden under loose clothing. His arms and legs had thickened, and he’d traded his fitted shirts for relaxed, comfortable styles that hugged his bulk in a way that exuded confidence. His face, once angular and chiseled, now held a soft fullness, his grin as wide as ever, framed by a new layer of warmth that suited him in ways neither he nor James could have predicted.

One afternoon, as they lounged together in The Rusty Kettle, their usual trays piled with burgers and sides, James looked over at Lachlan with an approving smile.

“You’re looking good, mate,” he said, genuinely pleased. “It’s nice to see you… well, embracing yourself.”

Lachlan laughed, his whole frame jiggling with the sound. “You know, I have to admit—this was easier when it was you going through it. But yeah… I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.” He took a hearty bite of his burger, savoring the flavor, unbothered by the way his belly pressed against the edge of the table.

For both Lachlan and James, the journey had taken them somewhere unexpected, a transformation they’d shared in both body and spirit. As they clinked their glasses, laughter echoing through the pub, they knew that this journey was far from over—there were more meals to share, more laughs to be had, and perhaps, a bit more room to grow.

[quads4days]

The Weight Of Us 5 - Breaking Point

Winter passed in a cozy haze, and by the time spring arrived, James had become almost unrecognisable. He’d gone from the gangly, sharp-edged teacher to a man with soft, rounded features and a belly that proudly led him wherever he went. His old clothes had long been retired, replaced with roomy shirts and loose-fitting trousers that barely managed to keep up with his steady expansion. But even with all the adjustments, James was reaching a breaking point—literally.

One Friday afternoon, James was setting up for his last class of the day. He’d been feeling the strain of his weight more than ever. The steady gain that had crept up on him since he’d begun spending time with Lachlan was now impossible to ignore. He was heavier, his steps slower and more deliberate, his breath coming a bit shorter after each flight of stairs.

As he leaned over his desk to gather some papers, he heard an ominous tearing sound. He froze, feeling a rush of heat spread across his cheeks. Slowly, he reached down and realized his trousers had split down the side seam, leaving a gaping tear that exposed his thick, rounded thigh. The shock of it left him momentarily speechless.

Lachlan, who had been passing by the classroom, caught sight of James’s red face and stifled a laugh. “Mate, did you just…?”

James nodded, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and helpless laughter. “I, uh… I think I might need a bit more room in these.”

Lachlan strode in, clapping James on the back with a hearty laugh. “Happens to the best of us. Look at it this way—it’s a sign of progress.”

James tried to laugh it off, but it was hard to shake the growing awareness of just how much space he was taking up these days. The tear in his trousers felt symbolic somehow, a realisation that he’d well and truly crossed a line he hadn’t even seen coming.

After a hasty trip to the office to grab a spare pair of trousers, James found himself drawn to the faculty lounge, where Lachlan was waiting for him with two trays laden with lunch. But this time, James hesitated.

“Lachlan,” he started, running a hand over his stomach, which now rested heavily over his belt. “Maybe we’ve gone a bit far with… all this…

Lachlan gave him a sidelong glance, his expression thoughtful. “You worried about the weight?” He paused, his own belly pressing against the table as he leaned in. “Look, mate. I get it. You’re not used to this—you were always the thin, lanky guy. But you’re happier, aren’t you?”

James nodded, his hand still resting on the swell of his belly. “I am,” he admitted, surprising himself. “But it’s… a lot. I didn’t expect to end up… like this.”

Lachlan grinned, pushing James’s tray of food closer. “You’re not ‘like this’ alone, remember? We’re in it together. Besides, who says you have to be anything but what you want to be? If you want to stop, we stop.”

They shared a long look, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Lachlan had been his anchor, his encouragement to let go and enjoy life and though James felt the weight of his body like never before, he couldn’t deny the warmth of their friendship that had grown with every kilogram he’d put on.

With a sigh, he picked up his fork and dug into the meal. “I don’t want to stop. I feel me for the first time in ever. Guess I’ll need to go shopping again, then.”

“Not to worry,” Lachlan replied with a chuckle, “I know a shop with plenty of… roomier options.”

-

Spring turned to summer, and James continued to grow, though now he embraced it with a confidence that came from Lachlan’s constant support. His belly grew rounder and softer, his face fuller, his whole frame settling into a comfortable, solid weight that left him feeling grounded in a way he never had before.

But as his size became a fixture, so too did the bond between him and Lachlan. They spent long afternoons at the pub, late nights discussing life and laughing until their sides hurt and in those moments, as he sat beside his friend, belly full and heart content, James knew he’d found more than just freedom in his transformation—he’d found a friendship that would carry him through any changes life had in store.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 4 - James’ Growth

Winter descended on Hawthorne with a biting chill, the kind that called for hearty meals, warm fires, and extra layers to stave off the cold. But for James, this winter brought more than the usual seasonal weight. His once-slender frame was steadily evolving, growing fuller and rounder with every passing week.

It was becoming a running joke between him and Lachlan—who was no stranger to his own expanding size—how quickly James’s wardrobe had gone from fitted shirts and neat trousers to sweaters and slacks that clung in ways he’d never imagined. By now, his lunches with Lachlan had become legendary among the staff. Colleagues would watch the two of them lumber into the lounge, cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes gleaming with anticipation for their next indulgent meal.

One Thursday afternoon, James walked into the faculty lounge, already anticipating the rich, savory aroma of today’s lunch. Lachlan was waiting, two trays heaving with burgers, chips, and thick, steaming mugs of hot chocolate. But as James sank into the seat opposite, he felt a twinge of discomfort. His stomach was pressing noticeably against his sweater, the waistband of his trousers digging into his side.

Lachlan noticed the discomfort and chuckled. “Mate, I told you—you’ve got to loosen up a bit. You’re not that skinny beanpole anymore.”

James gave an embarrassed smile, but there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. “I know, I know. It’s just… taking some getting used to.” He looked down at himself, taking in the soft swell of his belly, now pushing insistently against the front of his sweater. His cheeks flushed, but he couldn’t deny there was a thrill to it—a feeling of satisfaction, of growth, both inside and out.

They started in on their meals, and with each bite, James felt his inhibitions melting away. He let himself indulge fully, savoring every bite, the weight of his body shifting as his belly pressed further against his waistband. Lachlan watched with a knowing smile, nodding in approval as James leaned back and patted his stomach with a contented sigh.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Lachlan said, reaching across the table to slap James on the back. “You’re finally letting yourself go—and it looks good on you, mate.”

James grinned, feeling a newfound confidence blossoming within him. He’d been clinging to his old self-image for so long, trying to stay lean and unobtrusive. But here, with Lachlan, he felt free to be something else—someone bigger, more self-assured. And the more he let go, the more he found himself enjoying the changes. James was loving getting fat.

The weeks flew by in a blur of indulgent lunches, pub dinners, and late-night snacks as the two friends bonded over food and laughter. James’s figure continued to swell, his belly rounding out, growing soft and heavy as it hung over his waistband. His chest thickened, his arms and legs filling out, giving him a solidity he’d never known before.

Soon, his transformation was undeniable. James’s belly had grown into a prominent, round paunch that strained the buttons on his shirts, a soft, warm weight that swayed slightly as he walked. His trousers had been upgraded several sizes, though they still seemed to cling to his expanding thighs and backside in a way that left little room to spare. He’d even taken to wearing suspenders, at Lachlan’s suggestion, which seemed to support his growing bulk in a way that made him feel almost… dignified. He loved it and wanted more.

One evening, as they sat by the fire at The Rusty Kettle, their plates scraped clean and their bellies full, Lachlan looked over at James with a grin.

“You know, mate,” he said, taking a long swig of his drink, “I never thought I’d see the day. Look at you—you’re a proper unit now. Filling out, taking up space. It suits you.

James chuckled, his cheeks red from more than just the fire’s warmth. He ran a hand over his belly, feeling the fullness, the weight, the satisfaction that came from truly embracing himself.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back with a sigh of contentment. “I think… I think I like it. Who knew I’d find so much… freedom in letting go?”

Lachlan clapped him on the shoulder, his own belly jostling with laughter. “Welcome to the club, mate. And trust me, this is just the beginning.”

As the two friends sat together, full and content, watching the fire crackle and dance, they knew their journey was far from over. For James, this winter marked not just a season of indulgence but a rebirth—a new chapter in his life where he was free to grow in every sense of the word. With Lachlan by his side, he had all the encouragement he needed to continue the journey, one meal at a time.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 3: Busting Out at the Seams

The weeks blended together, a comfortable routine of morning classes, quick lesson planning, and daily escapes to the Rusty Kettle. By now, the pub’s staff knew their names, their orders, and had even taken to reserving their favorite booth—the one by the window, where they could watch the rain or sunshine pass by as they settled in for lunch.

It was on one of those rare sunny days in autumn that Lachlan, who usually had a loose relationship with any dress code, found himself tugging uncomfortably at his shirt collar. The buttons strained across his chest, the fabric pulling taut against his shoulders as he shifted in his seat. James noticed and couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

“Looks like someone’s clothes didn’t get the memo about your new diet,” James teased, taking a sip of his beer, which was now a staple with every lunch.

Lachlan raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Mate, if the shirt can’t keep up, that’s its problem, not mine,” he replied, giving his belly a good-natured pat, which jiggled slightly under the snug fabric. He leaned back, unbothered by the strain, grinning as if daring his shirt to hold on. “And what about you, huh? Look at that. Filling out nicely. Like I said, you’re catching up.”

James squirmed slightly, though he tried to hide it. It was true—he was filling out. He’d noticed it that morning when he’d struggled to fasten his belt, his fingers pressing into a soft layer of flesh that hadn’t been there last term. His own shirts had become increasingly snug, hugging his newly softened middle. But unlike Lachlan, he felt a twinge of embarrassment. He’d never been one to take up much space, but now… well, there was undeniably more of him.

Their meals arrived—massive plates piled high with fish and chips, thick wedges, and a side of rich, creamy coleslaw. Lachlan didn’t waste a second, diving in, barely taking breaths between bites as he continued to rib James about his expanding waistline.

“Come on, mate, just admit it,” Lachlan said through a mouthful of chips. “You’re enjoying this as much as I am. And hey, there’s no harm in a bit of extra… insulation for the winter, eh?”

James wanted to protest, but he couldn’t deny the truth. The food, the camaraderie, the simple joy of letting go—of enjoying himself without reserve—had become addictive. He’d never felt this at ease before, and he was beginning to realise it wasn’t just about the food; it was about sharing these moments with Lachlan, who’d become a kind of anchor in his life.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as he noticed the fabric pulling across his stomach, the beginnings of a soft, rounded paunch pressing into the waistband of his slacks. And yet, Lachlan’s easy confidence was infectious. If he could wear his new size with pride, maybe… maybe James could, too.

Lachlan polished off his plate and leaned back, rubbing his belly in exaggerated satisfaction. “That hit the spot,” he sighed contentedly. “Tell you what, though, I think it’s time to accept we might need to size up. No shame in a bit more fabric, right?”

James nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and relief. Maybe it was time to stop hiding from the obvious. That weekend, they both set out on a shopping trip together, an adventure that would test not just their patience but their pride.

They laughed as they rifled through the larger sizes in the store, trying on slacks with extra inches in the waist and shirts that gave more room in the chest. Lachlan flaunted his new size like a badge of honor, even snapping a few cheeky photos of himself in the mirror, belly front and center. James was a little more reserved, but he couldn’t help but grin when Lachlan made a show of flexing his still-impressive biceps, pecs and quads, claiming he was “bulking for winter.”

As they walked out of the store, bags in hand, they both felt lighter, even as they’d become heavier. They had found a new confidence in embracing themselves—and each other—in ways neither had expected and as they headed back to The Rusty Kettle for yet another hearty meal, they didn’t fully realise this friendship, and the transformations it had sparked, was only just beginning.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us—2

It started innocently enough, as most habits do. Lachlan had been the first to suggest they skip their usual packed lunches one chilly Friday. The day had dragged on, a particularly grueling schedule of back-to-back classes, and the thin sandwiches he’d prepared that morning seemed wholly inadequate after hours on his feet.

“Mate, I don’t know about you,” he said to James, slinging an arm around his friend’s narrow shoulders, “but I need a proper meal. None of that rabbit food from the cafeteria. Let’s head down to The Rusty Kettle.”

James looked up, a bit hesitant. He’d often packed salads and light lunches—his own version of attempting to stay “healthy,” though he didn’t give it much thought. But Lachlan’s offer was tempting, especially after the long week they’d had. He shrugged, feeling the pull of something larger than simple hunger, and agreed.

The Rusty Kettle was one of those places with worn leather booths and dim lighting, where the smell of roast and seasoned fries lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. They found themselves ordering more than intended: two towering cheeseburgers with bacon, thick wedges of golden fries, and ice-cold beers.

As they dug in, Lachlan ate with abandon, laughing between bites, recounting a particularly chaotic lesson that had involved a wayward paper airplane and a startled principal. James couldn’t help but laugh along, caught up in the easy charm of his friend’s presence. He took bite after bite, his initial reservation fading away as he let himself indulge.

“See, mate,” Lachlan said, thumping his chest with a satisfied grin, “this is what life’s about. None of that skimpy salad stuff. You’ve got to enjoy things.”

James chuckled, nodding, though his jeans were starting to feel a bit snug as he shifted in his seat. He hadn’t eaten like this in… well, he couldn’t remember when. What neither of them noticed then—or perhaps didn’t choose to notice—was the way this meal marked a subtle shift. Lunches together became a ritual, and each time, Lachlan encouraged James to try something new, something heartier. Roasts with thick gravy, pies brimming with filling, heaps of potatoes and sides—they didn’t hold back, and the food always seemed to taste better in each other’s company.

James’s once-loose shirts started to fit a bit closer, clinging to his midsection as it took on a slight paunch. Meanwhile, Lachlan’s already generous frame began to soften around the edges, his face taking on a fuller look, his torso thickening as he gave in to the joy of hearty meals without restraint.

They both noticed the changes in themselves, of course, but there was an unspoken understanding to ignore it. What was a little weight between friends? The laughter, the companionship, and the rich meals were worth a little extra padding. One rainy Thursday, as they sat across from each other in their usual booth, Lachlan looked at James with a smirk.

“Alright, mate, you’re filling out nicely. Didn’t think you’d ever be able to keep up with me.” Lachlan said with a smirk. James rolled his eyes, but the warmth of the compliment brought a faint blush to his cheeks. He’d grown to enjoy these moments, the freedom to let loose, to indulge. And though he’d never admit it, he liked the way his clothes hugged him a bit more now, the subtle weight giving him a grounded feeling he hadn’t had before.

“You just calm down and watch out Mr Steele” James said patting his own middle. “I’ll outgrow you soon enough if you’re not careful.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet of the pub. Their friendship—and their appetites—would only continue to grow, leading them down a path neither could have anticipated, where laughter, loyalty, and indulgence would reshape them both in ways they never could have imagined.

[quads4days]

Something a little different here. I’ve been asked by a friend to work with his ideas and bring the story he wants to tell to life. He has some big themes he wants to unpack. Here’s where it all begins. We’d love to know what you think.

‘The Weight Of Us’

In the small town of Hawthorne, nestled between rolling hills and sprawling farmland, two teachers were beginning what would be the most transformative school year of their lives. Lachlan Steele, built like a towering oak, strode through the hallways like he owned the place. His former days on the rugby field were etched in the broadness of his shoulders and the confident, easy way he carried himself. But years of indulging in hearty meals after long school days were starting to soften the sharp angles of his jawline, filling out his once-athletic frame.

Across the corridor, a figure stood in stark contrast. James Worthington was all elbows and knees, his gangly limbs jutting out awkwardly as though he hadn’t quite grown into his body. Known for his dry wit and piercing intellect, James was a force in the classroom but a ghost in the faculty lounge, often disappearing during lunch breaks to grade essays or lose himself in an old novel. The other teachers saw him as reserved, but there was something in the wiry man’s gaze that told Lachlan he was more than his quiet demeanor suggested.

When Lachlan and James first met, it was like fire meeting ice. Lachlan’s hearty laughter clashed with James’s reserved nods and half-smiles, but there was an undercurrent—a quiet understanding, an unspoken bond forming with each shared glance across the faculty room. Their friendship began with small exchanges of knowing looks and quiet chuckles over staff meetings and poorly planned lesson schedules. But as days turned into weeks, they grew inseparable, one’s presence amplifying the other in a way that no one, least of all themselves, could have foreseen and as their friendship flourished, so did their appetites. Whether it was Lachlan introducing James to the delights of a hearty pub lunch or James suggesting they explore the various hidden gems of Hawthorne’s eateries, both men found comfort in each other’s company—and in food. But as plates of hearty roast dinners and deep-fried indulgences began to accumulate, so did subtle changes in both their physiques. The once-sculpted jock and the slender scholar were slowly but inevitably taking on a softer, fuller look—a change neither of them acknowledged but both felt growing with every passing week.

Little did they know, this newfound friendship was only the beginning of a journey that would test not just their minds and spirits but the very seams of their clothing.

[quads4days]

The Halloween Harvest: Blood Moon

Chapter 1: The Invitation

It was the last week of October, the air crisp and crackling with the promise of Halloween, when the invitation arrived.

Jake had always been the leader of their group—fearless, competitive, and with a body sculpted from endless hours at the gym. It was Jake who found the envelope slipped under the door of their shared apartment, the thick black paper gleaming ominously in the autumn sunlight. He picked it up, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom were sprawled across the living room, half-watching a football game, half-napping after a brutal weight session that morning. They hadn’t noticed Jake holding the envelope until he cleared his throat.

“Guys, you’re gonna want to see this.”

He tossed the envelope onto the coffee table. It slid, stopping just short of a nearly empty pizza box. The others leaned forward with various groans and grunts, muscles sore from hours of squats, bench presses, and deadlifts. The invitation was written in elegant, looping script:

You are cordially invited to The Harvest Feast, the most exclusive Halloween festival in the country. A competition awaits the strongest and bravest, where only the finest are chosen for a night of unparalleled indulgence and revelry. A reward like no other will be bestowed upon the winner, someone who can claim not only the title of champion but something far more valuable. Come, feast, and prove your worth.

The five of them exchanged glances.

“It sounds... weird,” Mike said, leaning back into the couch and folding his muscular arms across his chest. "A competition? What kind of competition?"

“Who cares?” Jake shrugged, his grin widening. “It's probably a strongman thing or something. You know, one of those ‘eat as much as you can’ deals. We’ve all been bulking for weeks anyway, right? This could be fun.”

Ryan, who had been quiet until now, rubbed his chin. “It’s Halloween in a few days. This seems kind of last minute for an invitation to some big event, don’t you think?”

“Exactly why we should go,” Jake replied. “The best stuff is always the stuff you don’t see coming.”

Chris glanced at the others, his brow furrowed. “It’s not like any of us have real plans for Halloween anyway.”

“And if it’s a competition,” Tom added, “you know we’ve got this in the bag.”

There was something about the invitation that felt off, something none of them could quite put their finger on. But Jake had already made up his mind, and the rest of them knew better than to argue. After all, they’d been through crazier things together, right? And so it was decided. Five friends, five towering jocks with the kind of bodies built for nothing but strength, would head out to this mysterious Harvest Feast. They didn’t know the name of the town—didn’t even have a clear idea of where it was. But the directions provided were simple enough: Take the road out of the city, through the forest, and follow the signs.

The day of the event came faster than they expected. By the time they piled into Jake’s truck, the air was thick with anticipation. They laughed, joked, and punched each other’s shoulders, the sound of their voices filling the cab as the truck barreled down the highway, leaving behind the familiar bustle of campus and the gym.

The sun set as they neared the edge of a dense forest. The trees grew taller and more imposing, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. A heavy mist rolled in, blanketing the road in front of them, and for a moment, the laughter in the truck died down.

“This is the place, right?” Ryan asked, squinting at the directions.

“Yeah,” Jake said, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Just keep your eyes out for the signs.”

Minutes passed, the silence inside the truck thickening as the forest seemed to swallow them whole. And then, just as Ryan was about to suggest they turn back, a sign appeared through the mist—old and weathered, barely visible in the fading light.

The Harvest Feast – This Way.

Jake turned the truck down the narrow dirt road, his excitement returning as the trees opened up to reveal a small, isolated town nestled deep in the forest. The place was alive with activity—glowing jack-o'-lanterns on every doorstep, flickering lanterns lining the streets, and townspeople bustling about, dressed in elaborate, old-fashioned costumes. As they parked and stepped out of the truck, they were greeted by a man dressed in a dark, flowing cloak. His eyes gleamed as he took them in, one by one, a thin smile curling his lips.

“Welcome,” the man said, his voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “My name is Sam; I am the mayor of this town; we’ve been expecting you.”

Jake grinned, nodding confidently. “We’re here for the Feast.”

“Indeed you are,” Sam replied, gesturing for them to follow. “It’s a very... special event. Only those chosen by the Feast itself may participate. You’ve been selected for a night of indulgence beyond your wildest dreams.”

The five friends exchanged eager looks as they followed the cloaked figure through the town square. The townspeople watched them as they passed, smiling with an intensity that felt almost too warm, too eager.

They were led to a grand banquet hall at the heart of the town, where a long, ornately decorated table stretched out before them, laden with the most delicious-looking food they’d ever seen. Pies, roasts, cakes, and pastries filled every inch of the table, the smell alone making their mouths water. Jake slapped Mike on the back, his eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“See? I told you this would be awesome.”

Ryan, however, couldn’t shake the unease creeping up his spine. The atmosphere in the room was too perfect, the townspeople too eager, and the food too tempting. Something about this place felt... wrong.

But before he could voice his concerns, Sam stepped forward, his smile widening.

“Now, let the Feast begin,” he said.

And with those words, the room erupted into cheers, the townspeople clapping and urging the five of them to sit and eat.

It was a feast like no other, and as they took their seats and began to dig in, the true nature of the Harvest Feast would soon reveal itself.

None of them could have known that this was only the beginning.

Chapter 2: The Curse of the Feast

It started innocently enough.

Jake, Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom sat around the table, their forks clinking against plates as they dug into the mountains of food before them. The smell was intoxicating—roasted meats glazed in honey, pies bursting with sweet, spiced fruit, breads warm and soft, each bite sending waves of pleasure down their throats.

“Man, this is incredible,” Jake mumbled, his mouth full of tender steak. “They weren’t kidding about the food.”

The others grunted in agreement, too focused on their plates to say much. Mike, who had always been able to eat the most out of any of them, was already on his third helping of pie, his face glowing with satisfaction. Chris was tearing through slabs of meat like a beast, his biceps flexing with every movement. Even Ryan, the most cautious of the group, couldn’t resist the pull of the feast. He felt an almost primal urge to keep eating as if the food was a challenge he couldn’t back down from. But soon, that feeling of indulgence began to shift.

Jake was the first to notice something off. After polishing off his fourth plate, he leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his stomach. The hard ridges of his six-pack felt softer, swollen under his palm. At first, he thought it was just the food settling, his usual post-bulk bloat after a massive cheat meal.

Except this wasn’t just bloat. As he sat there, something inside him twisted—a gnawing hunger that refused to be sated. His belly rumbled, and without thinking, he reached for more food. His hand moved on its own, piling his plate high with pastries and roasted vegetables. He shoved more into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing.

“Jake, you good?” Ryan asked, his voice thick with concern.

Jake glanced up, about to crack a joke, but paused. Ryan’s face looked flushed, his usually sharp jawline softer, as if the edges were being rounded out. His shirt clung tighter around his chest and midsection, straining against a stomach that wasn’t there a few moments ago. Ryan blinked, following Jake’s gaze to his own body. He patted his stomach, his eyes widening. “What the hell…?”

But before any of them could react, the hunger took over. Mike groaned, slumping forward as he crammed another pie into his mouth. His thick arms, always bulging with muscle, had started to puff up with a layer of softness. His pecs, once hard slabs of muscle, sagged under the weight of growing flesh. The veins that used to snake up his forearms were disappearing beneath the fat swelling under his skin.

Tom let out a nervous laugh, but it came out strained. “I—I think we’ve had too much to eat, guys…”

He reached to push his plate away, but his hand wouldn’t obey. It trembled, hovering over a mound of mashed potatoes, and then, as if on instinct, he plunged his fork into it and shovelled it into his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His shirt, once loose and casual, was now stretched across a round belly that seemed to grow by the second.

The changes were subtle at first—muscle giving way to softness, belts tightening, shirts pulling against expanding chests and bellies. But soon, the transformation became impossible to ignore.

Chris, who prided himself on his rock-hard abs, was now leaning back in his chair, his gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. His face, usually chiselled, had softened into a rounder version of itself, his cheeks plump and flushed. His breaths came in heavier gasps, and yet, he couldn’t stop eating. His hands moved with their own will, shoving more and more food into his mouth, his body betraying him with each bite.

“This isn’t normal,” Ryan gasped, trying to stand, but his legs wobbled beneath him, his newly thickened thighs rubbing together as he struggled to get to his feet.

Jake looked around the table, his pulse racing. They were all changing—growing larger by the minute, their once-proud physiques bloating into something grotesque. His own body felt foreign to him, his stomach rounding out and pushing against the fabric of his shirt. His arms, always thick and powerful, were now soft and flabby, hanging awkwardly at his sides. His once sharp V-shaped torso had dissolved into a vast, growing mass.

“I can’t stop,” Mike muttered, his voice filled with panic. His hands kept moving, piling more food into his mouth. His once-thick neck had all but disappeared, his face now swollen and round, his cheeks puffed out as he chewed, barely able to keep up with the hunger that clawed at him from the inside. 

None of them could stop. The more they ate, the more they grew. The more they grew, the hungrier they became. It was a vicious cycle, their bodies betraying them as they succumbed to the dark magic of the feast. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as Tom’s shirt gave way, his belly surging forward, free from the constraints of his clothes. His eyes were wide with fear, his once muscular chest now sagging with fat, his arms jiggling as he reached for yet another plate of food. Ryan’s belt snapped, and he let out a strangled groan as his belly spilt over his waistband, the once taut skin now stretched and swollen. His legs, thick with new fat, wobbled beneath him as he tried again to stand, only to collapse back into his chair, too heavy to move.

“We have to get out of here,” Chris growled, his voice muffled by the food still crammed into his mouth. But even as he said it, he reached for more, his body betraying him as it swelled and sagged, his once powerful arms now soft and weak. Jake, the one who had led them here, tried to muster the strength to resist, but his body was no longer his own. His gut was enormous, pressing against the table as he leaned forward, unable to stop himself from reaching for more food. His mind screamed at him to stop, but the hunger was overwhelming, consuming him as surely as the food consumed his once-strong body.

They had come here as proud, strong men, but now they were nothing more than bloated shadows of themselves, trapped in a cycle of hunger and growth they couldn’t escape.

And as they continued to eat, their bodies swelling larger and larger, the realisation sank in: they had been cursed. The Harvest Feast wasn’t a competition at all—it was a ritual, and they were the sacrifice.

Chapter 3: The Blood Moon’s Curse

The night air grew colder as the sky darkened, the stars disappearing behind a thick veil of clouds. Outside the banquet hall, the town’s festive sounds faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the distant rustling of leaves. The only light came from the dim glow of the candles scattered around the hall, their flickering flames casting long shadows across the room.

The five jocks sat around the table, their bodies now grotesquely swollen, each one far beyond the point of recognition. Jake, Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom had come here as symbols of strength; their chiselled physiques and towering forms were the pride of their youth. But now, they were unrecognisable, their once-muscular bodies transformed into massive, bloated mounds of flesh.

Jake’s stomach, once the epitome of six-pack perfection, now hung heavily over his lap, stretching out several feet in front of him. His legs, buried under layers of thick, wobbling fat, were useless, pinned beneath the crushing weight of his own body. His arms, which had once benched twice his weight, were now heavy and swollen, the skin stretched so tight that every slight movement sent ripples through his flesh. His face was round, his cheeks flushed red with the effort of simply breathing.

Ryan was no better off, his once-lean form now engulfed in layers upon layers of blubber. His gut had swollen to the point where it rested on the floor, his thighs thick and immobile. His chest, once proud and strong, sagged down in two massive rolls, his breath coming in short, strained gasps. Even lifting his arms to wipe the sweat from his brow was a herculean effort.

Chris, Mike, and Tom fared no differently. They were all trapped in their own bodies, each of them massive, immobile blobs of flesh, completely helpless to the curse that had taken them. Their clothes had long since torn away, leaving them exposed, their skin shiny with sweat, stretched tight over their overfed forms. 

The table in front of them was still piled high with food, untouched for the last hour, yet the hunger still gnawed at them from within. They were beyond full, beyond sated, but their bodies screamed for more, as though they hadn’t eaten in days. It was a hunger that came from deep within, a hunger that was more than physical—something primal, something cursed.

And then, as if summoned by their suffering, the clouds outside parted. The blood moon rose high above the town, its deep crimson glow casting an eerie light across the sky. Its rays filtered through the windows of the banquet hall, bathing the five of them in its unnatural light. A cold shiver ran down Jake’s spine—or what was left of it—though he could barely move anymore. His eyes darted around the room, panic rising in his chest as the moonlight touched each of them, its glow deepening the shadows that danced across their bloated forms.

With the rising of the blood moon came a change. The already unbearable pressure in their stomachs intensified. Their bodies, which had already grown far beyond what should have been possible, began to swell even more.

Ryan groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as his belly stretched further, pressing against the legs of the table, pushing it away. His arms lay useless at his sides, the folds of his own fat pressing them down into his body. His once-lean face had now become a round, swollen mask, his neck completely lost in the thickness of his jowls. His breath was shallow, the effort of simply existing, taking every ounce of strength he had left.

Mike, whose competitive spirit had driven him to eat the most, had become little more than a massive, immobile heap. His skin was tight and shiny with sweat, and his enormous belly had completely overtaken him, pushing his legs out to the sides as it spilled over the chair, pressing heavily against the floor. His arms rested limply atop his gut, too heavy to lift, his fingers swollen and useless. He wheezed with every breath, his face a bloated caricature of what it had once been. Chris and Tom were no better, their bodies ballooning further with every passing second. The blood moon seemed to have awakened the curse fully, pushing them toward their inevitable fate. Their eyes darted around the room, wide with panic, but their mouths remained dry, too tired and too stuffed to scream.

And Jake, the leader, the one who had brought them all here, could only watch in horror as his own body swelled beyond all recognition. His belly was an enormous, taut dome stretching out several feet before him, his legs crushed beneath its weight. His chest had long since lost its definition, replaced by heavy folds of fat that sagged down to meet his gut. He could barely move his arms, which had become little more than useless appendages pinned to his sides by the sheer mass of his body.

“We... we have to stop this…” Jake whispered, though his voice was weak, barely audible above the sound of their heavy breathing.

But it was already too late.

As the blood moon reached its peak, the doors to the banquet hall swung open. The townspeople, dressed in their eerie, old-fashioned clothing, filed in, their faces twisted into expressions of eager anticipation. At their head stood Sam in his dark cloak, his smile cold and cruel as he surveyed the scene before him.

“Ah, yes,” Sam said softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper, yet it filled the room. “The harvest is ready.”

The townspeople began to chant, their voices low and rhythmic, a dark hymn that sent shivers down the spines of the bloated jocks. Sam stepped forward, raising his arms as he approached the table, the glow of the blood moon casting an unholy light on his face.

“You see,” Sam continued, “this is how we honour the ancient gods of old. Every century, we invite the strongest and fittest to our feast, and in return, we offer them up to the god of gluttony.”

Jake’s eyes widened, but he was too weak to do anything, his body too bloated and heavy to move. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him.

“Your strength, your competitiveness, your pride—it has all led to this,” Sam said, stepping closer to Jake, his gaze cold and calculating. “And now, you are ready to be harvested. You have become the perfect offering.”

Jake’s vision blurred, his body growing even heavier as the chanting reached a fever pitch. His stomach swelled further, pressing against the table, his limbs pinned beneath the weight of his own flesh. He could hear the others groaning, their voices filled with panic and fear, but there was nothing any of them could do.

The townspeople gathered around the table, their eyes gleaming with excitement as they reached out, their hands brushing against the bloated forms of the jocks. The ritual had begun, and soon, the harvest would be complete.

Chapter 4: The Weight of the Blood Moon

The air inside the banquet hall had grown thick and heavy, laden with the scent of roasted meats, spiced pies, and the sweat of overindulgence. The five jocks—Jake, Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom—sat like swollen monuments at the table, their bodies already beyond recognition, bellies resting on their thighs, legs pinned beneath the weight of their own flesh. Yet the feast was far from over.

As the blood moon rose higher in the sky, its crimson light spilling through the stained glass windows, something shifted in the room. The townspeople, who had been watching the grotesque scene unfold with eager eyes, suddenly began to move. One by one, they approached the table, their hands filled with platters piled high with food. They were no longer just observers—they were participants in the ritual.

Jake, the largest of the group, sat at the head of the table, his body already a mountain of flesh. His once proud chest, now buried under rolls of fat, rose and fell with laboured breaths. His arms, thick with blubber, rested uselessly at his sides, barely able to lift under the immense weight of his growing body. His stomach had become a massive, overhanging gut that spilt across his lap and pushed against the edge of the table; the skin stretched tight and shiny, veins faintly visible beneath its surface.

As a plate of steaming meat was placed before him, he tried to resist, tried to push it away, but his body betrayed him. His hands, trembling and swollen, reached for the food, shovelling it into his mouth with a desperate, insatiable hunger. The townsfolk crowded around him, their eyes gleaming in the moonlight as they offered him more, urging him to eat, to consume.

And as he did, something strange began to happen.

The townsfolk, who had been growing heavier and softer for weeks, seemed to shrink before his eyes. The weight they had gained—the extra flesh that had clung to their bellies, thighs, and arms—began to fade. The mayor, whose gut had been straining against his belt just minutes before, now stood straighter, his belly receding as if it were being siphoned away. His face, once flushed and bloated, slimmed as the fat drained from his cheeks, his eyes narrowing with newfound sharpness. Sam came forward and placed a pudgy hand on Jake’s once-firm pec. He shuddered as his fat began to disappear off his frame.

Jake suddenly realised. The weight wasn’t disappearing—it was being transferred. Jake could feel it, the strange, oppressive sensation of his body swelling even faster, the fat pouring into him like molten lead. His gut surged forward, growing larger with every bite, every breath. It pressed against the table, then over it, the wood creaking under the pressure of his enormous form. His thighs, once powerful and thick with muscle, had disappeared beneath the rolls of his belly, the skin stretched so tight it looked ready to burst. His legs were buried in his own flesh, useless, trapped under the growing mass of his body. He watched in horror as Sam’s body inflated with muscle as if he was consuming Jake’s hard-earned physique, trading it for his fat stomach and thighs.

“More,” the townsfolk whispered, their voices like a chant, as they shoved another platter of food toward him.

Ryan, seated beside Jake, groaned as he, too, was fed. His face, once chiselled and sharp, had grown round and bloated, his neck swallowed by the thick rolls that had formed beneath his chin. His arms, which had once been capable of bench pressing hundreds of pounds, were now soft and jiggling with every movement, the fat layering over muscle until there was no trace of strength left. His gut, once merely swollen, had become a vast, quivering expanse, pressing against the table and spilling onto his lap, threatening to envelop him entirely.

The townsfolk circled him, their hands steady as they fed him mouthful after mouthful, their bodies slimming with each bite he took. The more he ate, the larger he became the rolls of fat cascading over each other, his skin flushed with the pressure of it all. His breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps, his body so heavy now that it felt as though the very air around him had thickened, pressing down on him, suffocating him under the weight of his own gluttony.

Chris, who had prided himself on his perfect physique, had been reduced to little more than a bloated figure of his former self. His chest, once firm and defined, sagged with fat, his pecs lost beneath layers of soft, heavy flesh. His stomach had become a grotesque mass, so large now that it pushed his legs apart, his thighs bulging under the immense pressure. He could feel the fat creeping down his arms, his fingers plumping until they were almost useless, swollen and stiff from the rapid transformation.

Mike, always the competitor, had fared no better. His body had ballooned to such an extent that he could no longer move. His once-proud biceps were now thick rolls of fat, hanging limp at his sides, his gut stretching out in front of him like a massive ball of dough. His legs, pinned beneath the weight of his belly, were buried in flesh, his ankles swollen and thick. The townsfolk surrounded him, shoving more food into his mouth as his body swelled even larger, every inch of him bloating with unnatural speed.

Tom, the smallest of the group, had grown nearly as large as Jake. His belly, once flat and hard, now protruded so far in front of him that he could barely see over it. His chest had sagged into heavy, pendulous rolls, his arms too thick to lift as the townsfolk fed him more and more. His legs, thick and bloated, pressed against each other, the fat spilling over the sides of his chair, his body becoming an immense, immobile mass.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, heavy and laboured, the wet slap of fat shifting as they grew larger and larger. The townspeople continued to feed them, their own bodies now slim and trim, the weight of the curse lifted from them and transferred to their bloated victims. The jocks’ bodies had become massive, obscene monuments to gluttony, their bellies so large they dominated their entire forms, their skin stretched taut, flushed with the strain of their impossible size.

Jake felt his body groaning under the weight, his skin hot and tight, his belly pressing against the table so hard it seemed ready to crack the wood in half. He could barely move now, barely breathe, every inch of him swollen beyond recognition. The townsfolk whispered to him, their voices soothing as they pushed another plate toward him, their thin hands guiding the food to his lips.

As the blood moon hung high above them, its crimson light filling the room, the transformation reached its peak. The jocks had become living embodiments of the ritual—massive, immobile, their bodies engorged with the weight of the curse, their bellies so immense they seemed to take up the entire room.

They had become the offering.

And the old gods were waiting.

Chapter 4: The Final Offering

The transformation was complete. The five men no longer resembled the athletes who had strutted into town with pride and confidence, their bodies honed and perfected through years of discipline. What lay before the townspeople now were no longer men but grotesque, massive blobs of flesh. Their limbs were buried deep beneath layers of fat, their faces barely distinguishable, swollen beyond recognition. Where once there had been strength, now there was only immobility, their bodies reduced to amorphous, formless masses. The ritual had taken everything from them—muscle, definition, even humanity itself. But despite the horror of what they had become, a strange sensation began to creep over them. It was subtle at first, like a whisper at the edge of consciousness. But soon, it grew, spreading through their minds like warm honey. Bliss.

It was an intoxicating, overwhelming sense of peace. Their swollen, bloated bodies, once wracked with the pain of transformation, now felt... comfortable. The hunger that had driven them to madness was gone, replaced by a deep, all-encompassing satisfaction. They no longer needed to eat, no longer needed to compete. They were beyond such petty desires. Their existence had been reduced to a single, overwhelming state of pleasure.

Jake’s thoughts, once frantic and panicked, began to slow, his mind sinking into the warmth that enveloped him. He could no longer feel the weight of his enormous body pressing down on him, no longer hear the wheezing gasps of his breath. Instead, he felt light—weightless, even—as if his body no longer mattered. He was nothing but sensation now, drifting in a sea of ecstasy.

He heard the chanting of the townspeople, but it no longer filled him with fear. The eerie rhythm of their voices became a lullaby, guiding him deeper into the warmth. He could feel the others—Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom—though they no longer seemed separate from him. Their minds, too, were sinking into the same blissful state, their bodies merging into the ritual, no longer distinct beings but part of something far larger, far older.

As the chanting reached its crescendo, the air in the banquet hall grew heavy with a palpable, ancient energy. The townspeople’s voices rose in unison, their hands outstretched toward the bloated offerings before them. Sam’s eyes gleamed with triumph, his voice louder than the rest as he called to the old gods.

“We offer them to you, great ones! Accept these sacrifices, these once-mighty men, now consumed by their own gluttony. In exchange, grant us your favour, your protection, and your power.”

The blood moon bathed the room in its crimson light, and as it did, a presence—vast, ancient, and overwhelming—descended upon them. It was as if the very air had thickened, pressing down on the room with an indescribable weight. The townspeople fell to their knees, bowing before the unseen entity, their chanting now little more than a reverent whisper.

And then, Jake felt it. It was as though something immense, something beyond comprehension, had noticed him—had noticed all of them. The presence swept over him, touching the very core of his being, and at that moment, Jake understood. The old gods, the ones they had been offered to, were not creatures of malice or cruelty. They were a force, eternal and unfeeling, its essence intertwined with gluttony, indulgence, and excess. It did not judge them for their greed or their hunger. It simply... accepted them.

As Jake’s mind merged with the presence, the last vestiges of fear and regret slipped away. He no longer cared about his body, no longer cared about what he had lost. There was only the pleasure now—the deep, infinite bliss that consumed him, wrapping him in its embrace. He was no longer Jake, no longer a man at all. He was part of something much larger, something ancient, timeless. He was an offering, and in that role, he had found peace.

Ryan, Chris, Mike, and Tom felt it, too. They were not individuals anymore, not separate beings struggling against their fate. They had become one with the ritual, one with the offering, and their minds and bodies surrendered to the old god. The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure without end, a state of perfect contentment. They were free from the burdens of competition, free from the weight of their own bodies, free from everything.

As the ritual reached its height, the air crackled with power. The presence of the old god surged through the room, a ripple of energy passing over the townspeople, who gasped in reverence. Sam stepped forward, his eyes closed, his face glowing with the knowledge that the offering had been accepted.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the chanting stopped.

The presence lingered for a moment longer, its immense power washing over the room as screams and roars echoed through the hall. The blobs began to wobble as if being sucked up by an invisible force. A pulse echoed across the room one final time before it began to recede. The townspeople remained bowed, their heads touching the ground, their hearts filled with awe.

The five men, now nothing more than enormous, immobile blobs, quivered as their fat pulsed like ripples on a lake in the banquet hall, their bodies bloated beyond recognition, their minds lost in an endless sea of pleasure. They would soon be consumed, part of the town’s legend and the ritual that sustained the townspeople for another century.

The old gods had taken their offering. The harvest was complete.

As the blood moon sank below the horizon, the townspeople began to rise, their faces serene and content. Sam turned to the now empty table, the bloated blobs missing from the scene in front of him, only tattered clothes remaining, nodding in satisfaction.

“They are at peace now,” he said softly. “Their purpose is fulfilled.”

And so, the feast came to an end. The old gods had been pleased, and the town would prosper once more.

[quads4days]

The Halloween Harvest: Prologue

Prologue: The Weight of Tradition

In the quiet town of Croft Hollow, nestled deep within the shadow of ancient hills, Halloween was more than just a celebration of pumpkins, costumes, and candy. It was the town’s lifeblood, the hinge upon which its very survival depended. Every October, as the leaves turned fiery and the air chilled with the bite of autumn, the townspeople of Croft Hollow prepared for the Harvest Feast—a ritual as old as the town itself.

When the veil between worlds thinned, the ancient gods of gluttony and indulgence stirred from their slumber. For centuries, the town had honoured them with offerings: outsiders, strong and proud, lured into the feast, fed to the point of immobility, and sacrificed to keep the old gods appeased. In return, Croft Hollow had thrived—its people lived prosperous, slender lives, untouched by the darkness that lurked just beyond the hills. But that prosperity came with a price.

This year, the weight of time had begun to press heavily on the townspeople. The signs had come gradually at first—loosened belts growing tighter, faces fuller in the mirrors, the subtle yet undeniable spread of flesh that came with each passing week. The townsfolk, once slim and trim, had begun to swell. It started with an extra softness around the middle, a tightening of shirts that had fit just fine the season before. But as the weeks ticked by, the changes became more pronounced. Men who had once worn their trousers with ease now found their bellies hanging over their waistbands. Women who had prided themselves on their lithe figures now saw their dresses straining against thicker hips and heavier thighs.

The town blacksmith, once a strong and wiry man, now found his hammer harder to swing, his arms thickened with a layer of softness that had never been there before. The baker, always surrounded by the temptation of her goods, had noticed her apron strings pulling tighter around her expanding waistline. And the children—once full of energy—seemed slower, weighed down by an inexplicable lethargy that had crept into their bones. It was as if a great heaviness had fallen over the town, not just in body but in spirit.

The townspeople whispered about it, in hushed tones, as they gathered in the marketplace, their arms laden with extra bread, extra meat. They knew what was happening. The old gods were stirring, growing impatient. The curse that bound the town was coming to claim them, just as it had every century before. If the Harvest Feast did not take place—if the gods were not given their due—their growing weight would be the least of their concerns.

Without the sacrifice, the townsfolk’s gains would not stop. Their bodies, already softening, would continue to swell. What had started as a harmless extra inch around the waist would become a rapid, uncontrollable expansion, their limbs bloating, their bellies swelling, until they too became immobile, unable to rise from their beds, trapped in their own flesh. And then, the real punishment would begin. The town would fall into darkness—sickness, famine, ruin. The weight of their greed would consume them all, body and soul.

There was no escaping it. The old gods’ hunger could only be sated one way.

And so, they prepared. The townspeople worked with an urgency they hadn’t felt in decades, dressing their homes with eerie decorations, lighting jack-o’-lanterns at every corner, and setting tables for the feast. Each knew that time was running out, that if they failed to complete the ritual, their growing bodies would be consumed by the curse they had so long avoided.

The mayor, Sam, whose once sharp jawline had grown softer with each passing week, called an emergency meeting in the town hall. His belly, now noticeable even under his formal robes, jutted out as he stood at the head of the room, his voice trembling with barely contained fear.

“The feast must be perfect,” he said, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his buttoned vest straining against his newly fattened waist, as though holding himself together. “The offerings... they must come soon.”

He glanced nervously at the townsfolk gathered before him, each of them larger than they had been last year, their faces betraying the same gnawing fear that plagued him. They all knew what was at stake. This was not just about tradition anymore. It was about survival.

And so, they set their plan in motion. Invitations were sent, the bait carefully laid for the unsuspecting outsiders who would soon arrive—strong, fit, and oblivious to the true nature of the Harvest Feast. They would be lured in by promises of competition, indulgence, and prizes, unaware that they were walking straight into a trap. A trap that would save Croft Hollow, but doom them to the fate the town so desperately sought to avoid.

The people of Croft Hollow felt the curse tightening around them with every passing day. Their bodies were reminders of what was coming. The feast was not just about the gods—it was about ensuring the curse would pass over them for another century. Without it, their growing bellies would be only the beginning.

As the blood moon approached, and the air grew colder, the townspeople knew there was no time left. The Harvest Feast would happen, or they would be the ones paying the price, their bodies growing larger and larger until they, too, became part of the offering.

The streets buzzed with preparation, but beneath it all was the unspoken fear that gnawed at every heart: they were running out of time.

[quads4days]

Growing Jack

Chapter 1: The Weekend Getaway

Jack stood before his bedroom mirror, admiring his reflection as he pulled on a snug t-shirt, highlighting his well-defined muscles. At twenty-one, Jack was the picture of fitness. His dedication to the gym had paid off with broad shoulders, a chiselled chest, and abs that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover. His solid and powerful biceps flexed unconsciously as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

He was packing for another weekend getaway to his stepfather Sam's cabin today. Despite his initial reservations about his mom’s new husband, Jack had to admit that Sam had been nothing but supportive. The cabin trips had become a regular occurrence since the wedding, and while Jack enjoyed the time away from his college stresses, he was beginning to notice some changes he wasn’t entirely happy with.

"Jack, are you ready?" Sam's voice called from downstairs. Sam’s voice always had a cheerful note that seemed to put everyone at ease.

"Almost!" Jack grabbed his duffel bag, giving himself one last look in the mirror. His physique was still impressive, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his once razor-sharp abs were starting to soften. He shook his head, blaming it on the rich food Sam always cooked. "This weekend, I’ll just go easy on the snacks," he told himself.

Downstairs, Sam was waiting by the door. At forty-five, Sam was a tall, sturdy man with an easygoing smile and a knack for making people comfortable. His light brown hair was beginning to show streaks of grey, and he had a slight paunch that came from a love of good food. Despite his relaxed demeanor, there was an intensity in Sam’s blue eyes that Jack sometimes found unsettling.

"Ready for another weekend of fun?" Sam asked, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. The friendly gesture was something Jack had grown used to, yet today, it felt slightly different, almost heavier.

"Yeah. Let’s hit the road," Jack replied, forcing a grin.

The drive to the cabin was scenic, the winding roads leading through lush forests and past sparkling lakes. Sam kept the conversation light, talking about the various activities they could do – fishing, playing board games, and, of course, the elaborate meals he planned to cook. When they finally arrived, Jack took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. The cabin, nestled among towering pines, looked like something out of a fairy tale. It was cosy, with smoke from the chimney and a wraparound porch inviting you to sit and relax.

Unpacking was quick, and soon, they were sitting down to lunch. As usual, Sam had prepared a feast – thick sandwiches overflowing with meats and cheeses, bowls of creamy potato salad, and homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

"Dig in, Jack! You’ve been working hard, you deserve a break," Sam encouraged, his eyes twinkling.

Jack hesitated for a moment, but the smell was irresistible. "Just this once," he thought, reaching for a sandwich. The first bite was heaven, the flavours bursting in his mouth. Before he knew it, he was on his second sandwich, then his third cookie. 

The afternoon passed in a pleasant haze of food and conversation. They played board games on the porch, the sun setting behind the trees in a blaze of orange and red. Jack couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed, yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind about how easily he was falling into this routine. As the evening wore on, Sam brought out a platter of appetizers, each more delectable than the last. Jack’s resolve to take it easy was quickly forgotten. By the time dinner rolled around, he was comfortably full but didn’t want to refuse Sam’s culinary efforts.

Over the past few trips Jack had taken with Sam, Jack was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the allure of Sam’s cooking. The hearty breakfasts, lavish lunches, and multi-course dinners became a regular part of their getaways. The physical activities they once did together were gradually being replaced with more sedentary pursuits. As Jack was getting ready for bed, he saw himself in the mirror. Once flat and defined, his stomach had definitely started to form a slight bulge. His cheeks were fuller, and his jeans felt tighter around the waist. Jack frowned, placing a hand on his stomach. How had he let this happen?

"Hey, Jack," Sam called from the living room. "I’ve got some hot cocoa and fresh-baked muffins out here. Come join me?"

Jack sighed, pulling on a loose t-shirt that still felt snug around his middle. He knew he needed to take control, but the cocoa’s warmth and the muffins’ comfort were calling. "Coming!" he replied, forcing himself to ignore the warning bells in his mind.

As he joined Sam by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over the room, Jack told himself that he’d return to his routine once the weekend was over.

Chapter 2: The Master's Plan

From the moment Sam had laid eyes on Jack, he had seen a threat. Jack's chiselled physique and confident demeanour were a painful reminder of his biological father, a man who had left a lasting impression on both Jack and his mother. Sam couldn't stand it. He saw Jack not just as a rival for his wife's affection but as a symbol of everything he despised about his predecessor. Sitting in the cosy cabin, Sam watched Jack with a keen eye. Oblivious to the dark intentions masked by Sam's warm smile, Jack devoured another chocolate chip cookie. It was almost too easy. Sam had always been a master manipulator, knowing exactly how to play his cards to get what he wanted.

This entire plan had been brewing since the wedding. Sam had waited patiently, watching for the right moment to introduce Jack to a lifestyle of indulgence. He had learned everything about Jack's routines and weaknesses, slowly integrating himself into Jack's life. The cabin getaways were a stroke of genius, a perfect setting to subtly shift Jack’s habits and, ultimately, his appearance.

Sam’s motives were twofold. First, he wanted to secure his place in his new wife's heart. By making Jack more dependent, less physically intimidating, and able to care for his mother—Sam could weaken the bond between mother and son, ensuring that her affections would shift towards him. Second, he wanted to erase the image of Jack's biological father. Every time he saw Jack's muscular build and confident stance, it was like seeing a ghost. Sam would make sure Jack grew out of that image, becoming softer, more malleable, and entirely different from the man who had once overshadowed him.

Sam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as Jack leaned back, rubbing his slightly protruding belly. He refilled Jack’s mug with hot cocoa, adding an extra dollop of whipped cream. "You’ve been working so hard, Jack. You deserve to enjoy yourself," he said, his tone dripping with feigned kindness.

Jack smiled back, unaware of the underlying malice in Sam’s words. "Thanks, Sam. I guess I have been a bit stressed lately."

"Stress can really take its toll," Sam replied smoothly. "It's important to relax and take care of yourself. Here, have another muffin. They’re fresh out of the oven."

Jack took the offered muffin without hesitation, biting into it with gusto. Sam watched with dark satisfaction, knowing that each bite brought Jack closer to his goal. The once-athletic young man was slowly transforming, and Sam relished every moment.

Later that night, as Jack slept soundly in his room, Sam sat by the fire, contemplating his next moves. He had to be careful and patient. The transformation needed to be gradual, almost imperceptible to Jack. He couldn’t risk Jack becoming suspicious too soon. However, as the weekend trips passed and Jack’s once-toned body softened and expanded, Sam felt more confident in his plan. He envisioned a future where Jack, no longer the fit and confident athlete, would be overshadowed by his new stepfather. Sam would be the dominant figure in the household, with Jack reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. It was a twisted ambition that Sam pursued with relentless determination.

The following day, Sam prepared another lavish breakfast, the smell of bacon and pancakes filling the cabin. Jack stumbled out of his room, still half-asleep but drawn by the irresistible aroma. Sam greeted him with a smile that masked his true intentions.

"Morning, Jack. Ready for another great day?" he asked, setting a heaping plate of food in front of Jack.

Jack nodded, his sleepy face lighting up at the sight of the feast. "Yeah, definitely," he replied, sitting down to eat. As Jack dug into his breakfast, Sam watched with satisfaction, already planning the next steps in his carefully orchestrated scheme. The road ahead was clear, and Sam was determined to see his plan through to the end, no matter the cost.

Chapter 3: The Appetite Grows

The weekend at the cabin ended, but the changes it had wrought lingered with Jack. As he returned to his college routine, he found his appetite had grown significantly. The once manageable hunger pangs now gnawed at him constantly, demanding satisfaction. Meals that had once sufficed were no longer enough, and Jack found himself reaching for snacks throughout the day, his mind drifting back to the rich, hearty meals Sam had prepared.

Determined to combat the creeping weight gain, Jack redoubled his efforts at the gym. He pushed himself harder than ever, lifting weights with an intensity that left his muscles burning and his body drenched in sweat. The familiar comfort of the gym, with its clanking weights and rhythmic hum of the treadmills, was a sanctuary where he could reclaim control.

"Winter's coming," Jack mused to himself one evening as he wiped down a bench press. "Maybe a bulk isn’t such a bad idea." It was a common practice among athletes—gaining muscle mass during the colder months before cutting back down in the spring. It seemed a logical solution to balance his increased calorie intake with his rigorous workouts. However, even as he planned his bulk, Jack couldn't deny the growing anticipation for the next weekend’s getaway. Sam had called earlier, inviting him back to the cabin. The invitation had been wrapped in the same warmth and friendliness that had characterised all their interactions. Despite the warning bells that had briefly sounded in Jack's mind, he agreed almost eagerly. The days passed in a blur of classes, workouts, and increasingly large meals. Jack’s friends noticed the changes, commenting on his growing appetite and his plans for bulking up. "You're gonna be a beast by spring, man!” one of his gym buddies remarked, clapping him on the back. Jack laughed it off, pushing away the tiny voice in his head questioning his decisions’ wisdom.

When Friday arrived, Jack packed his bags with excitement and trepidation. The thought of Sam's cooking, the comfort of the cabin, and the promise of another relaxing weekend were hard to resist. As he drove up the familiar winding roads, the autumn leaves blazing in hues of red and gold; he tried to focus on the positive aspects. The time away would help him destress, and he’d be more mindful of his intake this time.

Sam greeted him with open arms, the cabin already warm and inviting. "Good to see you, Jack!" he exclaimed, helping with the bags. 

"I've got some new recipes I’m dying for you to try."

Jack smiled, feeling a mix of anticipation and caution. "Sounds great, Sam. But I will try to keep it a bit lighter this time. I’ve got to balance things out, you know?"

Sam’s smile never wavered. 

"Of course, of course. We’ll make sure you stay on track with your gym work.” The sincerity in his voice was almost convincing, but the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. That evening, as they sat down to a hearty dinner, Jack found it more challenging to stick to his resolve. The food was as delicious as ever, each bite more satisfying than the last. Despite his best efforts, the familiar fullness settled in, bringing with it a sense of comfort and complacency.

Jack’s gym efforts and dietary plans seemed to fade into the background as the weekend progressed. The cycle of indulgence and relaxation repeated itself, Sam always there with a smile and a plate of something delicious. The constant reassurance and the growing bond drowned out Jack’s doubts. As Jack prepared to leave on Sunday night, he felt a familiar sense of contentment mixed with unease. His reflection in the bathroom mirror showed a young man still in peak physical condition, but with a softness around the edges that hadn’t been there before. His stomach was still flat, slightly round, and his face seemed fuller.

"Just keep pushing in the gym," he told himself, trying to quell the unease. "It’s just a bulk. I’ll cut back in the spring."

Sam stood at the door, a warm smile on his face. "Take care, Jack. I’ll see you soon?"

Jack nodded, shaking off his doubts. "Yeah, definitely. Thanks for everything, Sam."

As he drove back to college, the lingering taste of Sam’s cooking and the promise of future weekends at the cabin filled his thoughts. The road ahead seemed clear, but little did Jack know, he was driving more profound into a carefully laid trap, one delicious bite at a time.

Chapter 4: The Mastermind's Weekend

From Sam's perspective, the weekend had been nothing short of perfect. He watched with quiet satisfaction as Jack pulled up to the cabin, his eyes already hinting at the hunger steadily growing since their last trip. Sam greeted him warmly, his demeanour a flawless mask of fatherly affection.

"Good to see you, Jack!" he exclaimed, taking the bags from his stepson’s hands. Sam’s mind was already working, calculating the next steps in his elaborate plan. He had spent years perfecting his culinary skills, not just for the love of cooking but for moments like these, where each meal was a step closer to his ultimate goal.

As they settled into the cabin, Sam prepared a hearty and deceptive dinner. He used ingredients designed to be irresistible and subtly addictive, ensuring that Jack would find it difficult to stop eating once he started. He watched with hidden glee as Jack's initial resolve to keep it light crumbled with each bite.

"Sounds great, Sam. But I will try to keep it a bit lighter this time. I’ve got to balance things out, you know?" Jack had said, and Sam had nodded, masking his delight with a veneer of understanding.

"Of course, of course. We’ll make sure you stay on track," Sam replied, knowing full well that his actions would lead Jack in the opposite direction. The meal was a symphony of flavours, each bite meticulously crafted to encourage overindulgence. Sam watched as Jack’s eyes lit up with each mouthful, the initial caution giving way to sheer enjoyment.

Throughout the weekend, Sam maintained this careful balance. He never pushed too hard, always ensuring his encouragement felt natural and supportive. He suggested movies and board games over hikes and outdoor activities, ensuring that Jack remained sedentary and continued to eat. The subtle manipulation wasn’t working as quickly as Sam had hoped. As Jack prepared to leave, Sam stood by the door with a warm smile, hiding the anxiety he felt. "Take care, Jack. I’ll see you soon?" he asked, already planning the following weekend and the meals that would accompany it.

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks for everything, Sam," Jack replied, and Sam watched him drive away, hoping his efforts were enough to keep Jack growing.

Chapter 5: Winter Break at the Cabin

Winter had arrived in full force, transforming the landscape around the cabin into a serene, snow-covered wonderland. Heavy with fresh snow, the trees stood like silent sentinels guarding the secluded retreat. Jack had agreed to spend his winter break with Sam at the cabin, looking forward to the relaxation and break from his rigorous college schedule. He missed several weekends due to his commitments to study and work, but Jack managed to go hard at the gym, regaining his solid, muscular figure.

Jack's reflection in the mirror that morning was a testament to his efforts. His broad shoulders and chiselled chest had returned to their former glory, and his abs, though still softened slightly by Sam's culinary delights, were once again defined. His biceps bulged with renewed strength, and there was a sense of confidence in his posture that had been absent before. As Jack packed for the trip, he felt excitement and caution. He knew Sam's cooking would be hard to resist, but he was determined to maintain his progress. Little did he know that Sam had already anticipated this and had plans to counter Jack's renewed vigour.

Sam watched Jack unload his bags from the car, noting the visible changes in his physique with a growing sense of unease. The young man standing before him was stronger and more muscular than ever, directly threatening Sam's carefully laid plans. It was clear that more drastic measures would be needed to ensure Jack's continued transformation.

"Welcome back, Jack!" Sam greeted, his voice as warm as ever. "I've got the cabin nice and toasty for us. How about we settle in and then enjoy a hot meal?"

Jack smiled, the fresh air and familiar setting putting him at ease. "Sounds perfect, Sam. Thanks for inviting me again. I will take a quick workout, and then we can catch up.”

The initial sight of Jack's muscular, athletic frame filled Sam with dread. The progress Jack had made in the gym was a direct threat to his meticulously laid plans. Seeing Jack's confidence and strength reminded Sam of his biological father; it was as if he was standing right before him, a man whose shadow loomed large over his marriage. The resemblance was uncanny and intolerable. He wouldn’t stand for it. He knew what he would have to do. As Jack went off to work out, Sam grabbed his axe and began hacking away at the large tree that loomed over the only drivable path up to the cabin. Jack would not be leaving in the same fit body he came in. Sam would make sure of it.

Chapter 6: The Desperation Grows

Sam was nothing if not resourceful. The Bodyboost Appetite Serum he had sourced online for an emergency such as the one before him was the ace in the hole, a desperate measure born out of necessity. Their way home was blocked, and removing the tree would take a week; Sam had more time to bake and feed his stepson. To make matters even more fortuitous, snow began to fall heavily on the cabin, leaving any outdoor exercise Jack had intended to undertake off the cards. Sam was elated.

Each meal he prepared during that snowy week was laced with the potent appetite stimulant concoction, its effects making it almost impossible for Jack to resist overindulging. Sam had read the instructions; only tiny drops should be used, but Sam poured bottles of it into his meals. The results were promising, but as the days wore on, Sam's desperation only grew. Watching Jack devour the serum-laden meals with increasing fervour brought Sam a twisted sense of satisfaction. He saw the daily changes in Jack’s body: the once taut stomach beginning to swell, the defined muscles hidden beneath a growing layer of fat. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

Sam knew that Jack's time at the cabin was limited. The snow would eventually clear, and Jack would return to his life at college, where the influences of his peers and the gym could undo all of Sam’s progress. The thought gnawed at him, driving him to push harder to ensure that the changes in Jack’s body were permanent. On the fourth day of their snowbound week, Sam watched Jack with a critical eye. The young man’s face was fuller, his cheeks rounding out, and his midsection had softened noticeably. Yet, there was still too much of the athlete in him, too much of the man Sam wanted to erase.

“More stew, Jack?” Sam asked, his voice as calm and encouraging as ever. He ladled another generous portion into Jack's bowl, hiding his urgency behind a warm smile.

Jack nodded, barely pausing between bites. “Thanks, Sam. This is really great.”

Sam's heart pounded as he watched Jack eat. Every mouthful, every bite, was a small victory. But he needed more. He needed Jack to be so far gone that there would be no return to his former self. The desperation clawed at him, making his actions more forceful.

As they sat by the fire that evening, Sam prepared a tray of rich desserts. Cakes, pies, and pastries, each one more decadent than the last. He placed the tray in front of Jack, his hands trembling slightly.

“Why don’t you try some of these?” Sam suggested his tone light but his eyes intense. 

“You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a treat.”

Jack hesitated momentarily, looking at the tray with a mixture of desire and guilt. Sam felt a surge of panic. “Come on, Jack,” he pressed, his voice tightening. “It’s just a little dessert. One week won’t hurt.”

The hunger in Jack’s eyes flared, the serum’s effects undeniable. He reached for a piece of cake, and Sam’s heart soared with twisted glee. Jack ate with abandon, each bite bringing him closer to Sam’s vision.

As the week drew to a close, Sam’s desperation peaked. The snow was beginning to melt, and the roads would soon be passable. He couldn’t let Jack leave without ensuring the transformation was irreversible.

On the last night, Sam prepared a feast unlike any other. Every dish was laced with the serum, every portion oversized. He watched Jack eat, his anxiety palpable. He needed to make sure Jack's body reached a point of no return.

“Have some more,” Sam urged, his voice almost frantic. He piled Jack’s plate high, ignoring the young man’s feeble protests. “You need your strength for the trip back.”

Jack, overwhelmed by the potent combination of hunger and the delicious food, complied. He ate until he could barely move, his stomach distended and aching. Sam’s heart raced with a mixture of triumph and fear.

When the meal was finally over, and Jack lay slumped on the couch, too full to move, passed out and snoring. Sam allowed himself a moment of dark satisfaction. The changes were undeniable. Jack's body had softened and expanded, the athlete he once was buried under a solid layer of indulgence and fat. But Sam knew he couldn’t stop. He had to keep pushing, keep feeding until Jack was so far gone that he would never regain his former physique. As he stood over Jack, watching the rise and fall of his overfilled stomach, Sam felt a surge of desperation. The path ahead was clear.

“Sleep well, Jack,” Sam whispered as he helped his drowsy stepson to his room, his voice trembling with fear and determination. “We’ve got a lot more work to do tomorrow.”

As the cabin settled into silence, the snow falling gently outside, Sam’s mind raced with plans for the future. He had come too far to fail now. He would see his vision realised, no matter what it took. Sam pulled out a small, hidden box from under his bed in the quiet of his room. Inside were six syringes, their labels ominously marked with warnings about their potency and immediate effects. These banned weight gain serums were his last resort, purchased at a considerable expense and with a risk that only his desperation could justify.

Sam held one of the syringes in his hand, his heart pounding. The instructions were clear, and the results promised to be nearly instantaneous, but the potential dangers were equally significant. Sam hesitated, his mind racing through the possible outcomes, thinking back to the news stories of Men being made immobile by drugs such as the one in his hand. However, the image of Jack leaving, still retaining enough of his athletic build to reclaim his former physique, pushed Sam past his doubts.

With a swift motion, Sam uncapped the syringe and, without further hesitation, injected a small amount of substance into his stomach. Just enough to test the waters. He winced at the sharp prick, then sat back, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. Sam’s frustration mounted as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, his body seemingly unchanged.

"Must be a gimmick," he muttered angrily. All the money he had spent, all the risks he had taken, for nothing. In a fit of frustration, he grabbed a beer from his mini-fridge and downed it in one go, seeking solace in the familiar burn of alcohol. But then, something remarkable happened. Sam felt a peculiar sensation in his abdomen, a subtle but undeniable pressure. He looked down in disbelief as a small fat tyre began to inflate around his once trim stomach. His eyes widened as the transformation accelerated, his shirt buttons straining against the sudden expansion. The buttons popped open one by one, revealing a small but growing gut. Sam's frustration evaporated, replaced by a wild, almost manic joy. The serum worked. It worked beyond his wildest expectations. Seeing his body swelling with newfound fat proved his plan could still succeed.

His mind raced as he hurried to the kitchen, the thrill of the successful experiment fueling his next steps. He would bake the substance into the most extensive, most decadent breakfast Jack had ever seen. Sam set to work with feverish energy, mixing the serum into the batter for pancakes, the dough for biscuits, and the syrup for the waffles. Each dish was meticulously prepared, ensuring that Jack would consume every last drop of the potent mixture.

As he whisked, kneaded, and baked, Sam's excitement grew. The kitchen was filled with a breakfast feast’s rich, inviting aromas. Pancakes, biscuits, waffles, bacon, eggs, and sausages were all infused with the serum, each dish a weapon in Sam's covert war against Jack’s athleticism. He carefully crafted everything, knowing that tomorrow's meal would be the turning point. Finally, the breakfast spread was complete. The table was laden with mouthwatering dishes, each laced with the banned serum. Sam stepped back, admiring his work with pride and anticipation. The food looked and smelled divine, an irresistible feast that Jack couldn’t refuse. Sam cleaned up the kitchen, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the following day. The anticipation was almost unbearable. He knew that the serum would take hold once Jack started eating, and the transformation would be swift and undeniable.

With everything in place, Sam turned off the lights and headed to bed. As he lay down, his thoughts were consumed by the vision of Jack's expanding waistline, the athlete's body giving way to soft, pliable fat. The image brought a twisted smile to his face. Tomorrow, he would see his plan come to fruition. Tomorrow, Jack would take the final steps on the path Sam had laid out for him. As Sam drifted off to sleep, he felt a rare sense of contentment as he explored his new spare tyre, which was now situated where his trim waist used to be. The pieces were all in place, and the future was within his grasp. All that was left was to wait for the morning and the transformation it would bring.

[quads4days]

Ethan's Christmas Wish

Merry Christmas, Everyone! May your holidays be filling as you enjoy this Christmas Tale! 🎄

Chapter 1: The Unlikely Santa

In the quaint town of Pine Ridge, nestled between snow-capped mountains and sprawling evergreen forests, the local mall buzzed with the onset of the festive season. Amidst the flurry of decorations and holiday cheer, an unlikely figure stood out.

Ethan Turner, a junior at the state university, was the embodiment of a collegiate athlete. His towering frame, a solid six feet two inches, was chiselled to perfection, a result of countless hours at the gym and on the football field. Broad shoulders tapered into a sculpted torso, each muscle defined as if carved from marble. His arms, the pride of his physique, were the stuff of legends on campus – powerful and imposing. With jet-black hair cropped close to his head and piercing blue eyes that contrasted starkly with his tanned skin, Ethan was often the centre of attention, albeit reluctantly. He had taken on the job of playing Santa at the mall for the holiday season, a decision driven more by financial need than desire. The idea of concealing his athletic form under the bulky, red velvet suit of Santa Claus seemed almost comical. He couldn’t be more different from the traditional, jolly old man in red. His friends had laughed when he told them, unable to picture the buff jock as the iconic bringer of Christmas joy.

As he stood in the staff room, staring at the Santa suit hanging on the door, a sense of irony washed over him. The suit, with its ample padding and fake white beard, was a far cry from his usual attire of fitted tees and athletic shorts. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had when contemplating the absurdity of life’s twists.

Taking a deep breath, he began to don the costume. The fabric enveloped his muscular frame, hiding the physique he worked so hard to maintain. As he looked in the mirror, he barely recognised himself. Gone was the intimidating athlete, replaced by a cheerful, round-bellied Santa.  Little did he know, this role would challenge him in ways he never expected, pushing the boundaries of his identity and forcing him to confront aspects of himself he never knew existed. As he adjusted the beard on his chiselled jaw, Ethan Turner, the campus Adonis, stepped out to embrace his role as Santa, unwittingly stepping into a journey of transformation that would redefine his very being.

Chapter 2: The Feast and Reflection

The final echoes of holiday cheer faded as Ethan concluded his shift at the Pine Ridge Mall. He trudged towards the staff room, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The Santa suit, a farce of merriment, felt more like a shackle by the end of his gruelling 12-hour shift. Inside the dimly lit staff room, Ethan began the process of shedding his Santa persona. The suit, which had engulfed his athletic frame, fell away piece by piece, revealing the stark contrast of his true self. As the layers peeled off, Ethan stood in front of the full-length mirror, pausing to take in his reflection.

His body, a sculpture of discipline and effort, was toned to near perfection. Broad shoulders rolled into well-defined pecs and a flat, muscular abdomen. His biceps, sculpted and prominent, flexed unintentionally as he ran a hand through his hair. In the mirror, Ethan saw not Santa but a young man in his prime, a stark juxtaposition to the character he played in the festively decorated halls of the mall. The rumble of his stomach broke his contemplative reverie. Realising he had hardly eaten all day, Ethan made his way to the food court, now quiet and nearly empty as the mall neared closing time. The aroma of various cuisines intermingled in the air, tempting his heightened hunger. He ordered copiously - a burger here, a slice of pizza there, followed by a serving of Chinese noodles.

Sitting alone at a table, Ethan devoured the feast before him. Each bite was a blend of flavour and relief, a stark contrast to the forced joviality of his Santa role. The food court, with its lingering festive decorations, was both a dining hall and a stage for his solitary banquet. After his meal, feeling sated yet physically drained, Ethan returned home. The quiet of his apartment was a welcome change from the constant din of the mall. As a treat to himself, he indulged in a few Christmas cookies, the sweet richness a perfect end to the day. The cookies, homemade and delicious, were a small yet significant rebellion against the strict diet of his athlete's regimen. Lying in bed, the events of the day replayed in his mind - the smiles of children, the weight of the suit, his reflection in the mirror, and the surprising satisfaction of his indulgent dinner. Drifting off to sleep, Ethan pleasured himself; his muscles tensed—he managed to climax, finding himself in a liminal space, caught between the persona of Santa and the reality of his own existence, ready to face another day in the red suit.

Chapter 3: Dreams of a Festive Transformation

As the mantle of sleep enveloped Ethan, his mind wandered into the realm of dreams. A Christmas dreamscape unfolded before him, more vivid and enchanting than any reality he'd known. He found himself in an ethereal workshop, bathed in a warm, golden glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls. The workshop was bustling with activity but not with the usual toy-making frenzy one might expect. Instead, it was filled with elves, each more striking than the last, their shirtless forms adorned with sparkling body glitter that caught the light with every graceful movement. They were the epitome of festive charm and allure, moving with a fluidity that was almost hypnotic.

Among them, an elf named Chris stood out. A playful glint in his eye accentuated his chiselled features, and his well-defined abs shimmered under the workshop’s golden light. He approached Ethan with a confident stride, his presence commanding yet warm.

"You're quite the unit, Ethan," Chris said, his voice rich and melodic. "It's our honour to assist you in becoming the biggest and best Santa Claus, full of Christmas cheer." Ethan, taken aback by the dream’s vividness, looked down at himself. He was still clad in the red suit, but it felt different in this dreamscape – less like a costume and more a part of his identity. The fabric seemed to hug his form, accentuating a physique that felt both familiar and strangely altered.

The elves moved around him in a dance of festive preparation, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of holiday spirit. Ethan was drawn into their rhythm, feeling an inexplicable connection to their mission. Chris led him through the workshop, showing him the magic of Christmas. They passed rows of candy canes, mountains of glittering ornaments, and beautifully wrapped gifts. With each step, Ethan felt a growing sense of belonging, as if he were meant to be part of this mystical world. Inevitably, Chris and Ethan found themselves alone; it was only a matter of time before Ethan’s muscular arms were embracing Chris as the dream turned passionate. Just as Ethan managed to unbuckle Chris’ elf attire,  the dream began to fade, Chris's voice echoed, "Embrace your new role, Ethan. Let the spirit of Christmas guide you, I’ll be in touch soon.”

Ethan awoke to the dim light of dawn, the remnants of the dream lingering in his mind. The vivid images of the workshop, the glittering elves, and his transformed reflection stayed with him as he lay naked in bed, pondering the surreal experience and what it might signify for his journey ahead.

Chapter 4: Embracing Christmas

The chill of the winter evening nipped at Ethan's skin as he collapsed into bed, utterly spent from another day of donning the Santa suit. The fabric had chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of the facade he maintained. In the solitude of his room, he shed his clothes, seeking the comfort of his bed in nothing but his skin, a stark contrast to the layers he bore all day. As sleep claimed him, he was once again transported to the Christmas wonderland of his dreams. The world was a tapestry of twinkling lights, shimmering snow, and an air of enchantment that could only belong to a place beyond reality.

Chris, the elf who had become a familiar presence in these dreams, greeted Ethan with a warm, inviting smile. His shirtless form seemed to radiate a festive glow, his muscles glistening under the soft, ethereal light of the wonderland. In his hand, he held a cookie, intricately decorated and emitting a mouth-watering aroma.

"Welcome back, Ethan," Chris's voice was as comforting as a crackling fireplace. "I thought you might enjoy this."

Ethan accepted the cookie, the rich taste exploding on his tongue as he took a bite. It was like tasting Christmas itself – a blend of spices, sweetness, and warmth. As they strolled through the wonderland, Chris's question hung in the air like a delicate snowflake. "Are you ready to embrace being Santa, Ethan?"

Ethan, with a mouthful of cookie, looked perplexed. Chris," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "why am I here? Why do you keep asking me to grow into Santa?"

Chris looked into Ethan's eyes, his own reflecting a depth of ancient wisdom. "Ethan," he said, his voice soft yet resonant, "Santa Claus is more than a person; he's a spirit, an embodiment of Christmas joy and generosity. But he can't carry this essence alone. Each year, we choose someone to share in this spirit, to help spread the joy and magic of Christmas. This year, I chose you., Ethan, personally chosen to be part of this legacy."

Ethan absorbed the words, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. "But why me?" he asked, a mix of honour and disbelief colouring his tone.

"You have a heart that resonates with the true spirit of Christmas," Chris explained. "Your transformation isn't just physical. You're becoming a vessel of the Christmas spirit, a partner to Santa in bringing joy to the world."

Ethan paused, the weight of the revelation settling upon him. He had started this journey reluctantly, seeing it as a role to be played. However, he was part of a timeless tradition, a continuum of joy and giving that stretched far beyond himself. Ethan's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"And what's in it for me?" he asked half-jokingly.

Chris's smile broadened. "After Christmas, you can have us change you into the physique of your dreams."

Ethan chuckled, playing along, half expecting to wake from this vivid dream. "Fine, then I want quads the size of a grown man's torso, thick muscular quads that turn heads.”

With a flick of Chris' fingers and a smirk on his face, Ethan felt a sudden, overwhelming sensation. His quads began to swell, the muscles expanding with a supernatural rapidity. They grew more massive, so large that his thighs were forced apart, straining under their newfound bulk. Ethan stumbled, unprepared for the shift in his balance. He fell, a mix of shock and awe on his face, as he looked at his disproportionately muscular legs that continued to thicken. He tried to step forward, and his massive quads made him fall backwards. Chris hurried to his side, helping him to his feet. "You see, Ethan, dreams do come true here."

Ethan, still reeling from the transformation, nodded warily. “Alright, I'm in," he agreed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  Chris's smile was triumphant. He placed a hand on Ethan’s stomach, and a tingle coursed through Ethan’s abs, and with that, Ethan was jolted awake. He lay in his bed, his heart pounding, the surreal dream still vivid in his mind. He touched his thighs, half-expecting to feel the exaggerated muscles from his dream. But they were the same as they had always been, strong yet human. The dream left Ethan with a sense of foreboding and excitement. As he lay there, contemplating the dream's meaning, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this Christmas was going to be unlike any other.

Chapter 5: A Magical Transformation

As the days passed, Ethan's life settled into a peculiar rhythm. The role of Santa Claus at the mall was exhausting, yet he couldn't deny the sense of fulfilment it brought him. The smiles of children, the festive atmosphere it all added a warmth to his life that he hadn't expected. However, with this new role came an insatiable hunger, one that seemed to grow with each passing day. Ethan found himself gravitating towards the food court during every break, devouring meal after meal as if he could never be sated. Pizza, burgers, fries – no amount of food seemed enough. By the end of the third day, his concern grew; this hunger was unlike anything he had experienced before. That night, as he collapsed into bed, a pizza box still open beside him, he drifted into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he found himself back in the enchanting Christmas wonderland, a realm that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Chris, the enigmatic elf from his previous dreams, was there to greet him. "Welcome back, Ethan," Chris said, his voice echoing with a warmth that filled the air. He approached Ethan and gently touched his stomach. "I see your hunger is growing. That's good. You're embracing your potential." Ethan, caught in the surreal beauty of the dream, nodded. "It's like I can't stop eating," he admitted, a mix of wonder and concern in his voice. Chris smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Christmas is only twenty days away. I want to help you grow into your role, to become the Santa you're destined to be."

Ethan felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. "How?" he asked. In response, Chris waved his hand, and a lavish feast appeared before them. Tables groaned under the weight of festive dishes, each more tantalising than the last. "Eat, Ethan. Let the magic of Christmas fill you." Ethan began to eat, and to his astonishment, he found that he could not get full. Plate after plate, the food seemed to vanish, and with each bite, he felt his body responding. He looked down in shock as his midsection began to round out, softening and expanding. Even more shocking was the raging hard-on Ethan found himself harbouring. Chris continued to encourage him, gently pushing more delicacies his way. Ethan, caught in the whirlwind of the magical feast, surrendered to the experience. As the dream continued, Ethan's transformation became more pronounced. His once athletic body softened, rounding out with the magic of the feast. As Chris's hand gently brushed against Ethan’s expanding midsection, the juxtaposition was clear. Where Chris remained toned and firm and defined, Ethan was becoming softer, rounder. It was a physical manifestation of two worlds colliding. 

Ethan lay back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the feast he had consumed. His body, especially his midsection, had transformed significantly. What was once a toned and athletic stomach had now become a soft, bloated spare tire, rising and falling with each of his laboured breaths. The sensation was a mix of discomfort and an odd sense of satisfaction, marking the journey he had embarked upon. Sensing Ethan's discomfort, Chris placed his hands gently on Ethan's expanded stomach. His touch was soothing, offering a comforting pressure that helped alleviate the tightness. At this moment, with Chris's caring gestures, the sharp contrast between Ethan's burgeoning form and Chris's lithe figure became a source of reassurance. Chris’ presence and the gentle rhythm of his hands on Ethan's belly brought a sense of calm, easing the physical strain of Ethan's indulgence.

Chapter 6: The Transformation

In the cool, pre-dawn light of Pine Ridge, Ethan awoke with the lingering images of his dream still vivid in his mind. He found himself facing a new reality. As he tried to rise from bed, he felt a weight he hadn't before. His midsection, now noticeably softer, pushed him back. Lying there, Ethan was filled with a sense of wonder and curiosity. His hard-on remained, and as Ethan pleasured himself, his new gut wobbled, and he blew a load harder than he ever had before.

Arriving at the mall, Ethan entered the staff room to don the familiar red suit of Santa Claus. However, today was different. As he slipped into the costume, he realised that the usual padding wasn't necessary. The suit, which had once hung loose on his athletic frame, now hugged his gut in a way it never had before. Standing before the mirror, Ethan took a moment to absorb his reflection. His physique, once the epitome of fitness, had undergone an undeniable transformation. His abdomen, previously adorned with chiselled abs, now sported a noticeable paunch. He grabbed at his newfound softness, his fingers sinking into the flesh. It was a surreal experience, feeling the weight and give of his midsection, a stark contrast to the hard muscle that used to be.

His thighs, once powerful and lean, had thickened, rubbing together as he moved. Even his chest, which had always been firm and sculpted, now had a subtle softness to it, the contours less defined. Ethan shook his head in disbelief, trying to reconcile this reflection with the image of himself that he had always known. Throughout his shift, Ethan's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He pushed himself to interact with the children and their families, the role of Santa now feeling more real than ever. But underneath the jovial exterior, Ethan was preoccupied with his physical changes and the dream that seemed to be becoming a reality.

Determined to embrace this transformation and make Chris proud, Ethan found himself visiting the food court during every break. He devoured meal after meal, his appetite seemingly insatiable. With each bite, he could almost hear Chris’s encouraging words, urging him to let go and embrace his new role. As the day drew to a close, Ethan felt both exhaustion and a strange sense of fulfilment. The mirror in the staff room now reflected a different man – one who was slowly but surely stepping into a new identity, one bite at a time. The journey was far from over, but Ethan was committed to seeing where this path would lead, driven by the mysterious promise of his dreams and the transformation they foretold.

Chapter 7: Embracing the Transformation

Ethan found himself once again enveloped in the dreamlike world that had become his nightly escape. The surroundings were draped in the soft, ethereal glow of Christmas magic, with snow gently falling outside the frosted windows of a quaint, cozy cabin. Inside, the warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a comforting light over Ethan and Chris. Chris, with his ever-present elfin grace, listened intently as Ethan recounted his day's work as Santa, his voice tinged with both fatigue and a growing sense of wonder. Ethan lay reclined, his head resting comfortably in Chris's lap, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known before. Chris' hand, delicate yet assured, held a freshly baked cookie, bringing it to Ethan's lips.  As Ethan savoured the cookie, Chris's other hand gently rubbed his fattened stomach, which had grown noticeably rounder over the past few days. The sensation was new and strange to Ethan, yet there was a certain comfort in the softness that had begun to envelop his once rigidly toned frame.

In a moment of surprising boldness, Ethan looked up at Chris, his eyes reflecting the fire's gentle flicker. "I want to embrace this change," he said, his voice low but resolute. "Help me grow even larger." Chris's eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and something more profound. "As you wish, Ethan," he replied, his voice echoing the magic of the winter wonderland that surrounded them. Chris smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "it's time for you to try Santa's special eggnog." With a flourish, Chris produced a large, ornate jug filled with a creamy, rich liquid that seemed to shimmer with a light of its own. Ethan, already feeling the weight of his indulgence, hesitated for a moment. But the allure of the magical world he was becoming a part of was too strong to resist. As Ethan drank the eggnog, he felt a warm sensation spreading through him. It was as though each sip was filling him with the essence of Christmas itself. The thick, sweet liquid coated his throat, and with each gulp, he could feel his body responding. It was as if he was inflating, his frame expanding softly but persistently under the fabric of his dream-self's clothes.

With each sip, Ethan felt a gentle expansion, starting from his core and radiating outward. It was as if the very essence of the holiday season was filling him, softening his once rigid and athletic build into something more akin to the legendary figure of Santa Claus himself. His abdomen, previously toned and firm, began to round and soften, gradually losing the definition of muscle in a slow, mesmerising change. This transformation was not abrupt but gradual, like a slow and steady filling that was both visible and palpable. Ethan's arms and legs, once the epitome of strength and discipline, began to take on a fuller, softer appearance. The fabric of his dream-self's clothes stretched a little more with each passing moment, accommodating his changing form. The most notable change was in his chest and midsection. His pecs, previously sculpted and prominent, were now becoming enveloped in a layer of softness. As Ethan attempted to rise, shifting onto his hands and knees, he found himself pausing to gather his bearings amidst the bewildering transformation he was experiencing. The weight and feel of his body were so different now, profoundly unfamiliar. As he steadied himself, preparing to stand, he felt a distinct sensation – his stomach, rounder and softer than it had ever been, made contact with the ground; a golden glow seemed to intensify around him, casting a radiant aura upon his now oversized form. 

Chris, with an enigmatic smile, beckoned other elves to join them, each bearing a glistening pitcher of creamy eggnog. The liquid flowed in a continuous stream, cascading into a colossal goblet before pouring into Ethan's eagerly awaiting lips. Hours passed, yet time in this dreamscape felt elastic, stretching on as Ethan continued to imbibe the rich, frothy concoction. With each gulp, he could feel his body growing heavier, his belly expanding like a living, breathing balloon. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and discomfort, as the eggnog seemed to infuse him with the essence of Christmas itself. Chris observed with fascination as Ethan's transformation unfolded before his eyes. His once-toned body had become an undulating sea of flesh, rippling with each gulp. The contours of muscle gave way to soft, pliable curves that swelled relentlessly. His limbs, once lithe and agile, were now ponderous and laden with the weight of indulgence. Chris couldn't help but notice how Ethan's skin, stretched taut over his expanding girth, took on a luminous quality as if it held the very radiance of the holiday season. Ethan's moans of pleasure mingled with the chorus of the workshop, where the other elves continued their joyful preparations. The goblet's contents seemed endless, and as the scale approached a staggering 300 kilograms, Ethan's laughter filled the air, a deep and hearty sound that resonated with the essence of Santa Claus himself.

Ethan's transformation was nothing short of extraordinary. The relentless flow of eggnog continued to feed his insatiable appetite for Christmas spirit, and his body responded in kind. His gut surged forward like an unstoppable force, expanding with a voracious appetite of its own. It hung heavily between his legs, creating a pendulous mass that now eclipsed even his knees. His once-defined pecs had long lost their athletic form, now transformed into enormous, fat-laden breasts that jiggled with every movement. They pressed against his burgeoning belly, a cascade of soft, supple flesh that defied gravity. The voluptuous curves of a Santa-in-training now supplanted the power and strength that had once defined his physique. Ethan's limbs, once agile and muscular, had become unwieldy masses of plumpness. His arms, which had once lifted weights and carried him through athletic feats, were now flabby appendages that swayed with each ponderous step. His thighs, once powerful pillars of strength, had ballooned into colossal columns of adipose, encasing his lower body in layers of luscious fat. The transformation was relentless, and Ethan's very identity seemed to blur with each passing moment. The former athlete was now becoming a living embodiment of indulgence, a blob of holiday merriment. His laughter, once vibrant and athletic, now had a deeper, more resonant quality, echoing the spirit of Santa Claus himself.

As Ethan's body continued to swell, the once-joyful atmosphere in the workshop began to take on an air of urgency. The other elves, their faces flushed with excitement, pushed him harder to drink more eggnog. What had started as an exhilarating journey into holiday indulgence now began to fill Ethan with apprehension. He could feel his mobility diminishing as the layers of fat encased him, rendering his once-athletic physique immobile and cumbersome. Just when Ethan thought he couldn't take another sip, Chris stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. With a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, Chris's magic surged through the workshop. Ethan's eyes widened in realisation as he felt the transformation intensify. His body expanded at an alarming rate, his flesh seemingly inflating with each passing moment. Ethan's joy quickly turned to apprehension as his body swelled uncontrollably, he was growing large, taller even as his body accommodated the influx of fat. Encasing him like a living cocoon, growing fatter and fatter with each heartbeat, Ethan was positively giant.  Chris watched with a knowing smile as Ethan's form expanded, his eyes filled with a mix of pleasure and desire. The once-svelte elf had orchestrated this dramatic change, and he reveled in the sight of Ethan becoming a living embodiment of holiday indulgence. With each passing moment, Ethan grew larger and rounder, his body encased in layers of plush, creamy fat. 

Chris, driven by desire and curiosity, climbed up the treacherous terrain of Ethan's expanding body. The ocean of fat seemed endless, and every step was a thrilling challenge. His fingers sank into the soft, yielding flesh as he ascended, and he couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating sensations. Finally, Chris reached Ethan's grotesquely swollen breasts, their immense size a testament to the extent of his transformation. Chris settled there, gazing down at the mesmerising scene below. With a playful smirk, he produced a plate of cookies, each bite laden with dark magic that fuelled Ethan's insatiable appetite. Ethan, moaning in a mix of pleasure and excitement, devoured the cookies with a ravenous hunger that only grew with each bite. With every morsel, his body expanded further, his skin stretching and straining to accommodate the rapid growth. The sensation was a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation, and both Ethan and Chris were eager to see just how far this transformation could go. 

Chapter 8: Ethan’s Christmas Wish

As the clock struck midnight, the workshop fell into an eerie silence, signalling the arrival of Christmas Eve. All the bustling elves froze in their tracks, their work suddenly halted. It was a moment of anticipation, a pause in the enchantment that had enveloped the workshop. Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, lay somewhere within the colossal ball of lard that Chris perched upon. He was indistinguishable from the ethereal mound, a stark contrast to the fit man he had once been. The transformation had reached its zenith, and he was now a living monument to indulgence. The elves, lined up in a solemn row, seemed to shimmer with a mystical energy. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, and a sense of wonder filled the air. It was as if the very essence of Christmas magic had descended upon the workshop.

With the workshop bustling and the enchantment of Christmas Eve filling the air, Chris turned to Ethan, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "It's time, Ethan," he said, his voice a melodic whisper. "Make your wish, and let the magic of Christmas do the rest." Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, found his voice amidst the sea of lard that enveloped him. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and made his wish. Ethan, lost in the sea of his own excess, suddenly felt a surge of ecstasy wash over him. He sensed himself floating downward, his essence flowing like a river into the waiting elves below. It was a sensation beyond words, a union with the very spirit of Christmas itself. As he wished, the elves around them began to change. Once shirtless Adonis-like figures, their bodies rippling with muscular definition, they now underwent a remarkable transformation as they absorbed Ethan’s Christmas Spirit. Their skin took on a soft, velvety quality, and their chiselled physiques gave way to plump, rounded forms. The transformation was a mesmerising dance of indulgence as each elf swelled with newfound curves and delightful softness. The elves' bodies grew fatter and fatter, their once-athletic builds now obscured beneath layers of lush, creamy fat. They seemed to revel in their newfound indulgence, their eyes sparkling with delight as they became living embodiments of holiday cheer. As the elves absorbed the essence of Ethan's wish, he felt himself growing smaller, the excess fat that had encased him flowing outward and into the waiting elves. He watched in amazement as they absorbed his transformation, their bodies expanding even further as they embraced the joy of holiday excess.

Chris's skin took on a glossy sheen as it stretched to accommodate his expanding girth. His chest, once flat and toned, blossomed into a pair of plump, soft mounds that strained against the fabric of his shirt. The shirt itself groaned under the strain, buttons threatening to pop as they struggled to contain the burgeoning expanse of his belly. His arms, which had once possessed a graceful, athletic elegance, became thick, flabby appendages laden with layers of luxurious fat. They swayed with every movement, a testament to the rapid transformation overtaking him. Chris's legs, once lean and agile, now thickened with luscious padding, and his thighs brushed against each other as he shifted his weight. His once-narrow waist expanded into a generous, round midsection, a sphere of holiday excess that defied imagination. His face, though still recognisable, had taken on a rosy flush, and his cheeks swelled with the delightful plumpness of holiday cheer. Even his ears seemed to have grown rounder, nestled beneath a layer of soft, inviting flesh. As the transformation continued, Chris seemed to revel in his newfound form, his eyes twinkling with the delight of holiday indulgence. He laughed heartily, a deep and joyous sound that resonated with the spirit of Christmas.

Ethan marvelled at the enchanting sight before him. Chris, once a svelte and confident elf, had become a living embodiment of holiday excess, his frame inflating with the very essence of the season. The workshop shimmered with the magic of their shared transformation, and as the clock ticked closer to the midnight hour, they prepared for the festivities that awaited on this most magical of Christmas Eve. Ethan found himself lying on his back in the workshop, exhausted from the transformation. A fattened Chris came into his vision; he leant down and kissed Ethan on the lips/

“Thank you.” He said, “You’ve given us more cheer than we could have wished for; this Christmas is going to be a magical one.” Ethan kissed him back before his eyes opened, and his Christmas dream ended.

Chapter 9: Christmas Morning

Christmas morning had arrived, and as Ethan stirred from his slumber, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and anticipation. The vivid memories of the enchanting dream and the remarkable transformation lingered in his mind. He sat up in bed, and as he looked down at himself, his jaw dropped in awe.

His once-bloated, rotund form had been replaced by a physique that defied imagination. He was now a hulking titan, his muscles sculpted and defined in a way that rivalled the mightiest of warriors. Each bulging muscle seemed carved from granite, and his sheer size was awe-inspiring.

Ethan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped up, unbalanced by the sheer bulk of his newfound titan muscles. As he made his way to the kitchen, he quickly realised that his expanded frame posed unexpected challenges. When he reached the bedroom door, he found himself wedged in, his massive shoulders and chest too wide to pass through. With a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, Ethan ducked under the doorway, the muscles of his back and legs rippling with power as he maneuvered through the narrow space. He finally emerged into the kitchen, where he spotted a plate of cookies on the table.

Ethan couldn't help but grin as he approached. He picked up a note, and there, in elegant handwriting, were the words: "See you again next year. Chris."

A smile spread across Ethan's face as he realised that the enchanting adventure he had embarked upon had indeed not only been a dream. It had been a journey of holiday magic, indulgence, and transformation, and he knew that he would carry the spirit of Christmas with him throughout the year waiting until next Christmas where he hoped he’d be asked to don his Santa suit again.

[quads4days]

What Christmas Themed story do we want?

A man who despises Christmas is cursed to grow in ‘cheer’ each holiday season

A man is haunted by Yuletide spirits and is forced to overeat each christmas.

A man finds himself in a time loop experiencing endless christmas feasts

A jock working as Santa at the mall finds the suit is magical and grows fatter

Voting ended onDec 22, 2023