He hadnât always been that guy. Back in the 'before', he was the one everyone expected to succeed. He had the look, lean, athletic, the kind of effortless, slightly messy attractiveness that turned heads without trying. In his own friend group, the loud, confident, popular guys, he fit right in. They were the type who could walk into a party and immediately have girls orbiting around them. Except⌠not him. That was the part no one really understood.
âBro, how are you still single?â one of his friends had asked once, genuinely confused. âYouâve got the face, the body, what are you doing wrong?â
He didnât have a good answer. Because he did try. He flirted, he joked, he approached girls, but something always fell flat. Theyâd laugh with him, sure. Theyâd hang out. But when it came to actually choosing someone? It was always one of his friends instead. He was close enough to see it happen, close enough to feel it. And after a while, that frustration turned into something else, something more calculated. Thatâs when the âplanâ was born. It started as a joke.
âIf I were the gay best friend, Iâd have it so easyâ, heâd said one night, half-laughing. âGirls tell those guys everything.â
His friends laughed it off, but he didnât. Because the more he thought about it⌠the more it made sense. No competition, no pressure, total access. He could get inside the circle instead of awkwardly hovering outside it. So he did it.
At first, it felt like hacking the system. The girls welcomed him immediately. No suspicion, no barriers, just instant inclusion. He was suddenly in group chats, getting invited to brunches, shopping trips, late-night hangouts. Sleepovers were the biggest win. Heâd lie there, surrounded by laughter, soft lighting, casual closeness⌠thinking: This is it. This is how it starts. All he had to do was wait. Let them get used to him. Let one of them see him differently. Simple. Except⌠the lifestyle wasnât what he expected. It wasnât just proximity, it was immersion.
âOkay but we need snacksâ, one of them would say during movie night. And that meant a lot of snacks. Chips, candy, takeout, desserts, things kept appearing, piling up between them as they sprawled across couches and beds. At first, he played it cool, taking small portions, staying mindful, but the environment wore him down.
âDonât be shy, eat!â, theyâd insist, pushing food toward him. And eventually⌠he did. Meanwhile, his old friend group started noticing the shift. At first, it was just the absence.
âWhereâve you been lately?â, one of them asked when he finally showed up again.
âBusyâ, he shrugged. âDifferent crowd now.â
They teased him about it, of course. âOhhh, heâs got a secret life now.â
But when he told them, half-proud, half-smug, about his plan, about how heâd infiltrated a girlsâ group and was 'playing the long game', they were impressed.
âOkay, thatâs actually geniusâ, one said. âKeep us posted.â
And he did. At first, the updates sounded like victories. âIâm in everything nowâ, he told them. âThey literally invite me to everything.â
But then⌠âDude, we just sit around and eat half the timeâ, he laughed. âItâs kinda crazy.â They didnât think much of it, not yet. The changes were subtle in the beginning. A little softness around his stomach, a slight fullness in his face. Nothing dramatic, nothing anyone would call out, but it didnât stop there. Because the routine didnât change. If anything, it intensified.
âLetâs order more.â
âWait, we need dessert.â
âOh my god, you have to try this.â
And he did, every time. The first real moment came during a night out with his old friends. He showed up late, pulling at his shirt a little as he walked in.
âYo!â, one of them greeted him, then paused. ââŚHave you been hitting the gym less?â It was said casually, but the glance lingered.
Another friend smirked. âOr hitting something else more?â
He laughed it off, brushing it aside. âNah, just been busy.â But he noticed it. The way their eyes flicked down, just for a second, the way his shirt didnât sit the same anymore. Back with the girls, things felt⌠easier. They didnât question the changes. If anything, they leaned into them. One night, as he reached across the table and grabbed a handful of fries before anyone else could, one of them laughed.
âSeriouslyâ, another added, nudging him. âLeave some for the rest of us, piggy.â
They all giggled. He did too, but he didnât stop eating. Weeks turned into months. The softness became weight. His stomach pushed outward now, noticeable even under looser clothes. His chest had changed too, no longer firm, but soft, shifting slightly when he moved. And still⌠the plan hadnât worked, not even close. He tried, though. That was the worst part.
One afternoon, while walking with a couple of the girls, he decided to test the waters. âSo⌠would you ever date someone in the group?â, he asked, trying to sound casual.
They exchanged looks. âLike who?â, one of them asked.
He shrugged, forcing a grin. âI donât know. Me?â
There was a pause, then laughter. Not cruel, but not encouraging either. âYouâre like⌠one of the girlsâ, she said. âYeahâ, another added. âI literally cannot picture that.â He laughed with them, but it stung.
Later, he tried again, this time with someone new at a party. Back in the old days, he wouldâve had a shot. Now? He leaned in, tried his usual charm. She glanced at him, her eyes flicking down, lingering just a bit too long on his softened midsection, the way his shirt clung awkwardly to his chest.
âOhâ, she said, polite but distant. âIâm actually talking to someone.â
He nodded, stepping back. And for the first time, he felt it, the difference. Even his old friends couldnât ignore it anymore.
âBroâŚâ, one of them said during another meetup. âYouâre actually getting kinda big.â
âYeahâ, another added, half-laughing. âThat âplanâ of yours is working a little too well⌠just not the way you wanted.â
He rolled his eyes, defensive. âItâs temporary.â
âIs it?â someone shot back. No one pushed further, but the doubt was there.
Back with the girls, the teasing had become routine.
âOh my god, you ate all of that?â
One night, during a sleepover, one of them tossed something at him. He caught it, confused. A bra. The room erupted into laughter.
âHonestly?â, she grinned. âYou might need it.â
He smirked, playing along, but he couldnât ignore the way his chest actually shifted when he moved. How it wasnât entirely a joke anymore. By the time it fully sank in, it was too late. The plan had failed, completely. He had access, yes. He had closeness, inclusion, everything he thought he wanted. But attraction? Gone, replaced by something softer, friendlier, harmless. And his body told the same story. No longer the lean, overlooked jock. Now something rounder, heavier. A little greedy, a little too eager around food. The one who finished everything before anyone else could. He still hung out with them, still laughed, still joined in. But every now and then, heâd catch a glimpse of himself, reflected in a mirror, or in the subtle way people looked at him differently now. And heâd remember where this started, a 'genius' plan, a simple idea, a way to finally get what he wanted. Instead, he got exactly what he earned. Karma didnât just flip the outcome. It reshaped him entirely, inside the group, inside the lifestyle. And most visibly⌠Inside his own skin.
At some point, the balance finally tipped. What had started as 'just hanging out with a different crowd' slowly turned into something else, something his old friends couldnât really ignore anymore. It wasnât just that he showed up less. It was how he showed up when he did.
âDude⌠what are you wearing?â
Heâd walked up to them one afternoon, dressed in something looser, softer, an oversized shirt that hung off him in a way it never used to.
âWhat?â, he shot back, defensive.
One of them smirked. âNothing, man. Just⌠youâve changed.â Another chimed in, not even trying to hide it. âYeah, youâre literally one of them now.â
He rolled his eyes. âRelax. Itâs just clothes.â
But then came the line that stuck. âYouâre even growing a pair of tits yourself now.â That one hit differently. They all laughed, like it was just another joke, but their eyes said otherwise. They werenât imagining it. His chest did push against the fabric now, softer, fuller than before. And for once, he didnât have a comeback ready.
After that, the invites slowed down, group chats went quiet, plans happened without him. At first, he told himself it was just timing. Then he realized⌠it wasnât. He tried to fix it. One day, out of nowhere, he showed up at the gym where they all used to train together.
âYoâ, he said, forcing confidence as he walked in. They looked surprised.
âDidnât expect to see you hereâ, one of them said, raising an eyebrow.
âYeah, wellâ, he shrugged. âFigured Iâd get back into it.â
There was a pause, then a smirk. âGood, you need it.â
He told himself it would be easy. It used to be easy. But the moment he started⌠it felt wrong. Weights that once felt light now dragged his arms down. His breathing got heavier faster. His body didnât move the way it used to, it felt slower, softer, less controlled.
Meanwhile, his friends watched, not subtly. âCâmon, manâ, one of them called out as he struggled through a set. âThat used to be your warm-up.â
âIâm just out of practiceâ, he muttered.
âOut of practice?â, another laughed. âOr just out of shape?â
He pushed harder, tried to keep up, but his body betrayed him. Halfway through, he had to stop, hands on his knees, breathing heavier than he wanted them to see.
âAlready?â, someone said.
âDamnâ, another added. âThose girls really got you good.â
And then came the worst moment. He moved to another machine, adjusting himself awkwardly as his shirt clung to him. One of them nudged the other, barely whispering, but not quietly enough.
âBro⌠it actually jiggles.â
âOkay, nahâ, the first one said louder now. âWeâre getting you a sports bra next time.â
âSeriouslyâ, the other added. âYouâll need support if you keep skipping gym and hitting brunch instead.â
He tried to laugh with them, tried to act like it didnât bother him, but it did. Because he could feel it too, the way his chest shifted slightly when he moved too fast, the way his stomach got in the way of certain motions that used to feel natural. Everything felt⌠off.
After that day, he stopped trying to rejoin them, not officially. He just⌠didnât come back, and they didnât ask. So he drifted fully into the other life, the one that had started as a plan, the one that had quietly taken everything else. Back with the girls, nothing slowed down. If anything, it got worse.
âWait, are you seriously ordering another thing?â, one of them laughed as he added extra items to their takeout.
âWhat?â, he grinned. âWeâll share.â
âYeah, rightâ, she shot back. âYouâll eat half of it before it even gets here.â
They werenât wrong. Movie nights turned into full-on feasts, and he was always at the center of it, reaching first, finishing last. Taking 'just one more bite' until there was nothing left.
âGreedyâ, they teased, poking his side.
âActually thoughâ, another added, watching him go back for more. âYou donât even wait anymore.â
He just smirked, didnât deny it.
One night, sprawled out on the couch, he caught his reflection in the dark TV screen. For a second, he didnât recognize himself, the softer face, the fuller frame, the way his shirt stretched slightly across his chest and stomach.
Then one of the girls leaned over and poked him. âYouâre getting comfy, huh?â
He glanced at her. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
She grinned. âJust saying⌠youâve definitely settled in.â
Another voice chimed in. âYeah. Heâs not leaving anytime soon. Weâve claimed him.â
âObviouslyâ, someone else laughed. âHe eats too much to survive on his own now.â
They all laughed. And this time⌠he didnât even try to argue. Because deep down, he knew. They were right, heâd lost the old life, lost the friends who used to define him, lost the version of himself that used to fit in that world. And in its place? Something softer, hungrier, a little lazier, a little greedier. The plan had worked perfectly. Heâd gotten inside, stayed inside, became part of it. Just not in the way he ever intended. And now? There wasnât really a way back, not with the way his body had changed, not with the way people saw him now, not with the way heâd started to see himself. So he stayed, on the couch, at the table, in the group. Laughing along as they teased him, reaching for another bite before anyone else could. Exactly where karma had decided he belonged.
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