Eli wasnât just attractive. He was the kind of man who looked like a sculpture, chiseled, smug, magnetic. Tall, bronze-skinned, tousled dark hair, abs like a Greek godâs, and that cocky little half-smile he wore like a weapon.
Everyone wanted him, and he knew it.
The problem was, he knew it. And that made him cocky. Too cocky. So when he crashed the party shirtless, laughing and teasing and drinking straight from the bottle, it didnât take much to light a fire under him.
âYouâre too perfect,â someone muttered. âBet you couldnât even let yourself get fat.â
âOh please,â Eli scoffed, waving his hand. âI could pack on weight if I wanted to.â
âYeah, right,â Luke, his best friend, said from the couch. âYouâre too vain. Youâd never let yourself go. Youâd tap out before your stomach even puffed out.â
Eliâs face shifted into a challenge. âOh? Think I canât?â he said, already standing up and peeling his tank top off with a flourish, revealing that flawless V-line and a body everyone had stared at for years.
âOne night,â he growled. âYou bring the food. Iâll eat. And I wonât stop until you admit Iâm not just some pretty little coward.â
And just like that, the dare was born.
They cleared the dining table. Orders were placed. Takeout arrived in waves, pizza, cheeseburgers, chicken buckets, pasta trays, gallons of melted ice cream, crates of soda, pies stacked six high. A feast built to break a man.
But Eli? He dug in like a machine.
The first hour was a spectacle. He made it look easy, cocky and shirtless, his taut abs bulging slightly as he threw back slices of pizza and chugged liters of Coke between bites. The crowd cheered, laughing, snapping photos, feeding him bites by hand just to see his cheeks puff out.
By hour two, the jokes faded. His belly had gone from tight to round. A firm dome pushed outward from his sculpted torso, distorting his perfect lines. He leaned back with a grunt, cradling it.
âFuckâŠâ he moaned, licking his lips. âFeels goodâŠâ
Luke raised a brow. âStill think this is fun?â
âI love it,â Eli groaned. âItâs tightâŠso tightâŠbut I want to see how far I can go.â
The stuffing became serious. Pacing went out the window. Eli gorged with reckless hunger, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow as his belly surged forward.
By 3 a.m., he couldnât sit upright. He sprawled across a recliner dragged into the middle of the room, belly towering over him like a globe, rising and falling with every labored, gluttonous breath. The skin stretched smooth and shiny, pulled tight across what looked like a half-ton of sloshing weight.
âCanât believe⊠nghhh⊠Iâm still eating,â he moaned, eyes half-lidded. âFeel like Iâve swallowed the planetâŠâ
Every tiny movement made his belly slosh. It groaned with pressure, quivering like it couldnât hold another ounce, and then he shoved another forkful in anyway.
Luke stared. âYouâre not human anymore. Youâre⊠massive. Eli, youâre bigger than a damn car.â
That made Eli smile. âFuck yeah⊠bigger than a car⊠and Iâm still not done.â
His hands stretched over the sides of his belly, he couldnât even reach the top anymore. His moans grew deeper, more sensual. The pleasure of fullness, of dominance, of total consumption overwhelmed him.
âI need to know how big,â he panted. âWeigh me. Now.â
It took four people to help him up. His gut hung in front of him like a wrecking ball, tugging his spine into a painful arch. Each step was a slow, sloshing waddle, every motion drawing out deep groans from his stuffed, struggling gut.
They led him to the scale, a massive industrial-grade platform they dragged in from the garage.
The machine groaned as Eli heaved himself onto it, belly resting heavily on his thighs, thighs spread wide just to balance the thing.
The room gasped. Eli moaned.
âOh my god,â he whined, eyes wild. âIâm⊠Iâm over a ton. A whole fucking tonâŠâ
He shivered from the thrill, his belly rumbling beneath him like an earthquake. He wasnât done. Not even close.
They fed him until sunrise. He didnât stop once.
More ice cream. More cream pies. Entire pizzas slid into his mouth like nothing. His body expanded beyond comprehension, his belly eclipsing him. He couldnât reach his face. Couldnât see his legs. Couldnât even breathe without panting.
His final weigh-in, done with industrial pulley supports to hoist his now completely immobilized bulk?
Three tons of stubborn, gluttonous, moaning man.
All because someone dared him too.
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