“Urp…well, this isn’t good. Looks like you kind of overdid it,” Manny chided himself as he lightly tapped his chest with his fist, quietly releasing more gas.
He had to be careful. There would be no sexual adventures tonight if his secret was revealed this prematurely in the game. He had already downed his seventh beer and his once-loose pants were already becoming uncomfortable. Never had he imagined himself being the guy sitting at the bar drinking beer and awkwardly checking his cell phone every few seconds, though there was nary a text or app notification to be found.
He watched several slim, muscle-cut twinks dancing in the club without a care in the world, their short-tailored shirts blatantly showing off their six packs. Around here, this was common. If you couldn’t grate cheese against a washboard stomach, guys in this city wouldn’t spare you a second glance. Manny himself wore an extra-large tank top that hid the spare tire he had been developing over the past few weeks. His arms and pecs, however, were jacked and swollen from his daily gym routine, poking out of the top’s armholes. Too bad he no longer had the V-shape taper to complete the overall effect. Was he being mistaken for bear territory now?
Earlier that day, Manny had reached the stark realization that he had been growing over the past few weeks. He stood shirtless in front of his 3-sided mirror in his bedroom at his parents’ house and surveyed the damage. His tan belly pooched heftily over his black cotton shorts, stretching the waistband a fair amount due to its girth. He sucked it in briefly, allowing it to become a faint shadow of its former self. He flexed his stomach and swore he could make out the beefy outlines of his former abs, though they were now covered with a good three inches of belly fat. He released it suddenly, with an audible “hooof!” as his gut rubber-banded outward again, quivering with silent intensity and strength. He didn’t have much in the body hair department; a thin trail of hair traveled down from a diamond-shaped patch between his beefy pecs, curving down and out to meet the demand of a bigger stomach. The trail stopped at his belly button, creating a circular frame around it. He frowned, noticing that the hairy frame seemed a little wider than he last remembered.
Had his belly button been getting bigger, too? That was just too much. Shit, he played soccer, for crying out loud! It was nothing but running, so shouldn’t he be maintaining a trim weight? But deep down, Manny knew what the culprit was; he was just too ignorant to admit that the after-gym workout meals he had been indulging in over the past few weeks were starting to pile onto his once-sculpted midsection. He only played Soccer twice a week now, as opposed to his old four-times a week routine, to make more room for his interest in weightlifting and strength conditioning. One workout’s advantages were starting to severely “outweigh” the other, its benefits quickly becoming a double-edged sword, or in Manny’s case, a double-edged fudgesicle cone. He grimaced, imagining himself trying to run on a soccer field with his college buddies, lugging a sweaty, wobbling, belly tank in tow, feeling it slap heavily against his thighs, causing him to huff heavily, only to feel it slowly stretch his ill-fitting workout shirt to its absolute bursting point…
“Starting to feel the effects of the ol’ family curse, eh?” said a voice.
Manny spun around as his surprised expression turned to sheepishness. He saw his dad in the doorway, watching him. At 5’11”, his old man didn’t seem too overwhelming in terms of height. Manny had recently finished the final stage of his height spurt during his first year of college, so he now matched his father’s height and could meet him eye-to-eye. However, what his dad lacked in filling the doorway space above his head, he more than made up for in filling from side to side.
Manny had always remembered his father as a big man, even as a child. He often had to back up to see his father’s face above the mound of oppressive ball belly hanging and distended from his midsection. As the years ticked by, fatherhood and work had taken its toll, inflating his gut to beer-busting proportions, not that his mother seemed to mind. She picked him out while he was playing soccer in college, but he had been a goalie, carrying a large and stocky frame to assist in blocking every shot.
After seeing old pictures of his dad, Manny could tell that his father was a handsome devil who carried his larger frame well, but “large” was merely an understatement to the hedonistic, rotund man standing before him. His father turned, chuckling, scraping the front of his hairy, mammoth belly into the doorframe as he went back down the hall. The indent of his slightly inflated belly button could be clearly seen. He wore an XXXL black shirt, a few inches shy of covering his girthly expanse. The outlines of his large nipples could be seen straining the topside of the shirt, hinting at more than a handful of moobage pushing forcefully behind them.
Manny stared after his father, long after he left and turned down the hallway. He then proceeded to look down at his own developing “situation” as he placed a hand upon his own belly. It felt solid, with very little give. He knew his father meant his comment good-naturedly and to poke a little fun at his son, but what he said both worried and horrified him. What if he was right? What if he was slowly turning into his dad?
His shook his head vigorously and turned his head away from the mirror. No. Hell no. Not a chance. No way was he gonna turn into a big tub of lard like his old man. He loved the guy, and didn’t necessarily see anything wrong with it, being from an Italian family, but anyone looking like that would be extremely unpopular and ridiculed in the gay culture he had grown up into. He had heard of places in the U.S. that supported a “bear” culture, where it was okay to carry some extra beef, but that was a far cry from his current region in the states. If he let himself give into a silly notion such as genetics, he would become a laughing stock in these parts.
He threw on the biggest tank he had and began styling his jet-black hair. He combed it backward and felt the slight stubble on his face and decided he wouldn’t shave. He kind of liked the contrast.
The diet starts today, he decided. He would have a few beers, sure, but he had to cut back on the chow if he was going to win this battle against his body. He grabbed his cell phone and wallet and headed out, his newfound confidence helping him to ignore and even deny the slight swaying sensation he felt coming from below his pecs when he walked.
---------------------------------------------------
His confidence did not last long.
It was 11:30pm, and he had left the club over an hour ago. He felt embarrassed and humiliated, though no one had called him names or said anything to him at all. Which, unfortunately, was part of the problem. He was not used to being ignored or overlooked. Several times he snuck a glance from his cell phone to see if the guy walking toward him was either scoping him out or about to ask him to dance. Every single time, it was to either call out to a friend sitting nearby to dance or to walk past Manny on his way to order drinks.
It certainly didn’t help that he was sitting at a table only a couple feet away from the bar, so to avoid the awkward stares of guys in line to order mixed drinks, he drowned himself in beer after beer, signaling to the roving shirtless gogo-waiters whenever he was about to finish one. The waiters looked at him with disinterested looks and perhaps a hint of disgust as he told them his tab information, knowing that he probably sounded like a mess.
After about two hours of drinking, he not surprisingly had the sudden urge to take a piss. He went to the restroom, excusing himself past several couples making out, feeling a rush of unbidden jealously.
Upon reaching the urinal, Manny’s hands undid the suspiciously tight belt buckle of his pants, as he looked forward to the release of pressure on his bladder. He did not expect a secondary release as his gut gladly breathed in more room, partially obscuring his view of his dick as it flopped heavily out of his boxers. He stared numbly at the dark treasure trail of his stretched gut arching forward into the urinal, barely registering the pleasure of the piss as his bladder emptied its contents.
“What the fucking fuck?” he breathed, staring in disbelief at the inflated tank he now possessed. When he was done using the urinal, he hastily sucked in his belly before anyone saw him and redid the belt on his shorts. It was a LOT tighter than he was used to, so he begrudgingly readjusted it to the last notch, not that it did very much good.
Manny stopped in front of the mirror and took a good look at himself, not believing what he saw. The outline of his gut was obvious, forming a sphere that was noticeable even while wearing his largest tank top. He grabbed it with both hands and shook it, as if to test its validity.
The bathroom door suddenly opened, prompting Manny to do something he never had to worry about before: he forcefully sucked in his belly.
He wasn’t proud of it— he knew that he had officially reached an all-time low— as he felt his rounded sphere suck back into himself, creating a slightly painful, ominous pressure within his stomach. A couple from the dance floor had entered the bathroom, shirts tangled in a rush to remove them, revealing two sets of glistening hard abs. They barely registered Manny’s presence as one of the pair pushed his partner against the wall. Manny excused himself around them in a hurry to get out.
When he returned to his seat, he was already in a daze. It was even more humbling to realize that the beer bottle-strewn table next to his seat actually belonged to him. He counted 13 beers. Where the hell did it all go? He felt a gassy gurgle from deep within his gullet, which was still painfully compacted against its will. He knew where.
Suddenly the bar/club didn’t seem like the friendliest place to him at the moment. He swore he could feel silent, judgmental looks making split-second decisions about him before moving on. Not to his face, no, but the inactivity he had experienced the night thus far had been more than enough proof for him. He had been pigging out on beer all night, inflating his spare tire uncontrollably, while his own community looked down on him and condemned him without a moment’s notice. The place was alien to him now.
Manny bitterly closed his tab at one of the only clubs he felt he could truly be himself. The bartender, who usually reserved a wink for him, nodded at him curtly without a second glance as he signed his receipt. Damn, had he been that terrible?
Upon exiting the building, he felt the warm nighttime breeze on his face, his stomach rumbling something fierce. He saw a pizza parlor across the street and decided that it would do. I mean, what was the point of holding back now? He was already past the point of no return, apparently. Self-consciously, however, he just couldn’t release the vice-lock holding his gut in place, preventing it from protruding from his body even the tiniest bit.
He had not the slightest inkling about the forces of nature he was fighting against. Try as he might, he would eventually find out that those forces would not be denied.
*******************************************
Andrew Sampson was in shock. This was not how he imagined his shift ending that night. He was in the process of closing shop an hour early due to a slow night. A bell jingled, signaling that someone was entering the parlor. Andrew mentally groaned. All he wanted to do was go home, catch up on his favorite shows and relax…
He heard a bell chime and he turned, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.
Sauntering into Paulie’s Pizza Parlor, his place of work, was a handsome, tall, “huscular” Italian man. He seemed to be in a daze, shuffling in a characteristic fashion of somebody who had way too many drinks for the night.
He knew the type. Some guys got the “drunchies” and would come in with friends and share an order of breadsticks (I mean, seriously?!) while gossiping about the conquests that just occurred inside the club. Then, they would leave, causing Andrew to stare longingly after them, wishing that he wasn’t forced to work the weekends.
But something was off about this one, Andrew could tell. His arms were toned, yet meaty, and he rested a large hand on his abdomen, which was looking very domed-shaped. It was almost as if he was sporting a set of turtle-shelled abs underneath, like the kind only serious weightlifters get.
Andrew tilted his head up to look his customer in the face as he ambled toward the counter. He could not help but notice the perturbed look on the young man’s face as he studied the menu, his thick, dark eyebrows softly knitted in silent resignation.
“There’s a special on carryouts,” piped Andrew suddenly. He then cursed himself mentally. First hunk he had seen here in a while and now he was coming off as an impatient fast-food worker trying to usher him out. That would actually be true most days, but this customer was an exception to the rule.
To his relief, the beefy stud offered him a grateful smile, although to Andrew it almost seemed a little sad as well. Must be his imagination.
“What’s the special on the…specials?” the stud slurred. It was obvious to Andrew the lunk had been drinking pretty heavily prior to entering, most likely at the joint across the street.
So he’s fair game in my hunting grounds, thought Andrew hungrily. It was reassuring that if he was going to hit on someone, it would his lucky day if the guy happened to be both drunk AND homosexual. Hitting on drunk straight guys never seemed to yield consistent results in Andrew’s past experiences.
“Uh, the current special is buy one get one free on carryouts,” Andrew said, which was only half true. The carryout special only applied when there were more workers available. His coworker who did the deliveries left hours ago, and the time for the special had long since passed, now that carryouts were the only option available. Andrew had the honorable duty of telling stoned customers over the phone that the store wasn’t doing deliveries at this late hour and they would have to come in to pick up their pizza, much to their extreme dismay.
The guy looked thoughtful for a few moments. Andrew wasn’t sure if he should add anything else to sweeten the deal or just keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to scare the guy away with over-generosity, if there was such a thing. Suddenly, the guy sighed heavily and spoke.
“Make it a large pepperoni and mushroom,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll let you know if I want the other one.”
“I can always box the other one up for you,” Andrew said, secretly trying to hide his excitement as he rang up the order on the cash register. His heart skipped a beat when the guy offered him a bemused smirk in return.
“Thanks bud-URP,” he burped, an apologetic look etching itself onto his face. He fumbled through his wallet for a moment until he scrounged up a wrinkled $20 bill and handed it to Andrew.
“Name?” Andrew said, trying to sound professional and not at all interested in the answer.
“Manny,” the beefy ex-jock answered, taking the plastic order number from the pizza parlor employee, though he doubted it was necessary since the place was a ghost town.
Manny didn’t question it though. He easily recognized the look on the guy’s face and understood that he probably had an ulterior motive for asking his name. He was used to getting those looks all the time, before his recent…developments.
As he walked over to one of the circular red tables he mentally went over the worker’s slim build in his head. He wasn’t too bad looking and seemed to be in decent shape. He couldn’t help but imagine the pizza twink with his shirt off. It made him smile; it was nice to get some attention after the experience at the club.
The chair creaked when he sat, not unreasonably so, but it still made him grimace to know he was about to make “that” situation worse. He felt like a friggin’ pig lately, so he needed a pick-me-up to get himself out of this depressive funk. If the world was going to view him as a fatass hog with an uncontrollable appetite, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if he gave into it every once in a while. Let the fuckers talk about how fat he was getting. Other than that reason, he was just plain hungry. His abs felt strained and uncomfortable from keeping his stomach sucked in, but he wasn’t ready to start looking the part of glorified fatass just yet. He wanted to live the dream of having a fit body that attracted looks just a little longer before saying goodbye to it forever.
Meanwhile, as Manny pondered these sobering thoughts, Andrew was busy making both pizzas in the parlor kitchen. He excitedly prepared the dough for two extra-larges, knowing fully well that the jock had only asked for a large. The guy didn’t have a size comparison available, this visit being his first time, so Andrew was sure he wouldn’t notice. He liberally spread extra cheese, pepperoni and mushrooms over both before putting them in the oven.
He spent the next few minutes strategizing an approach to conversation. Going out there right now to talk to the stud without a reasonable excuse would be a dead giveaway. He began cleaning and sweeping, making enough noise to signify to his guest that he was currently occupied. Bringing the pizza out there when it was done would be the most convenient excuse to talk to him while making it look natural. He mentally cursed himself again for giving away the plastic order placard, just realizing how silly it must have looked when Manny was the only customer there (and probably the last one for the night as well). He would make up for it though.
Twelve minutes later he took the pizzas out of the oven and placed them in their respective cardboard boxes. The familiar, tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, responsible for inspiring hedonistic gluttony in pizza shops across the nation.
As he brought a pizza over, he noticed that Manny was lost in thought, staring down at his stomach. Andrew coughed politely, causing the jock to snap his head up toward him. A sheepish grin spread on his face. His eyes seemed more alert, eliciting a hungry stare toward the pizzas, although Andrew could have sworn Manny’s gaze met his own for a half-second.
“Here ya go,” Andrew said nonchalantly, placing the pizza in front of Manny. Steam wafted from the delicacy as Manny opened it, lending strength to the adage, “fresh from the oven.”
He lifted a piece, watching the multitude of cheeses stretch away from the rest of the pizza. He used his finger to sever the excess and toss it back onto the slice. He began to blow on it gently, not wanting to burn his taste buds and taint the overall experience.
Andrew stood there awkwardly, racking his brain for one of the witty conversation starters he had prepared in the kitchen, but he was drawing a blank. To his surprise, however, Manny spoke first.
“Busy night?” Manny said, taking a small bite of his pizza.
“Oh, well, not really,” Andrew answered quickly, pausing as a quiet moan escaped Manny’s lips, his eyes closed. The motherfucker was adorable when he was eating. “I mean, look at this place. It sucks because I usually have the closing shift on the weekends.”
“Damn, that is good,” Manny murmured, though not quietly enough where Andrew could not hear him. “Sorry. Yeah that does suck, man.”
“Yeah,” replied Andrew, relieved as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Although it has its perks when there isn’t somebody there looking over your shoulder all the time. What about you? Fun night tonight?”
Manny’s countenance fell considerably at the question. “More downs than ups,” he answered, taking a bigger bite of the slice this time.
“Shame. Sorry to hear that,” Andrew said, momentarily unsure of what to say next. Feeling a little daring and not wanting to suffer another awkward silence, he continued, “I’m sure it has nothing to do with dating problems, though. You look like you do well in that department, if you don’t mind me saying. Wish I could say the same about myself.”
Manny raised an eyebrow and guffawed, his mouth full of pizza. He swallowed hard and said, “Thanks man. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all gotta start somewhere. I played soccer regularly as a kid and starting hitting the gym hard and it worked out well for me in the end.”
His eyes lowered before speaking again. “Not that it seems to be doing me any good anymore,” he said, shoving the rest of the first slice into his mouth and picking up the second.
Andrew was about to ask what he meant, when the phone in the kitchen rang, making him jump slightly.
“Excuse me, man” he said hastily as he hurried away to the phone, leaving Manny to his devices.
The combination of guilt, self-loathing and abdominal pressure caused a low grumble to emanate from Manny’s stomach as it increased in intensity. The pizza had cooled off sufficiently enough for him to shove half of the second slice into his mouth, causing his cheeks to puff out. He chewed quickly and swallowed, feeling the pressure mount in his belly, bit by bit. He wanted to drown his sinking feelings of inadequacy underneath a ton of baked dough and tomato sauce, a newfound comfort in his crappy situation. He barely gave his mouth a break before forcing the other half in, relieved that the pizza boy had to answer the phone and didn’t see him as the hog he truly was becoming.
Much to his ire, Andrew snatched the phone up in the kitchen and said the parlor’s greeting mantra a little too impatiently.
“Hello, thank you for calling Paulie’s the home of Paulie’s world famous pizza how can I help you sir or ma’am?” Andrew droned into the receiver.
“Yeah…can I…uh…” a monotonous voice replied. Andrew could hear inebriated laughs in the background. “Hah…I forgot what I was going to say man, give me a second.”
Andrew put the receiver on his shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. Stoners, damn it. This call was going to take forever and Manny may just get up and leave while he was taking this guy’s order. He decided to cut out the middle man and brought the mouthpiece back up.
“I apologize sir, but our pizza parlor is not delivering at this hour. If you would like to make an order I would be more than happy to take it as a carry out. You can make the order when you get here,” Andrew said, hoping it didn’t sound too unprofessional.
“Oh man, no way,” replied the stoned guy, his tone suddenly more serious. “You sure you can’t deliver? My gut’s rumbling something fierce man and I need my pizza fix.”
“I really do apologize sir,” Andrew responded, somewhat bemused. He wondered if “drug dealer” could be added to his job description. “Feel free to come in and make an order. We’ll be closing in about a half hour though, so you might have to decide soon. I’m really sorry.”
“Okay…” the guy said, sounding dejected. “See ya.” Andrew heard a click and line went dead.
Placing the phone back on the counter, Andrew disconnected the line to avoid any more interruptions. He hurried back to the stud at the table.
What he saw next almost made him gasp in shock.
Manny had just finished devouring slice number seven, his cheeks stuffed with dough and his lips slathered in tomato sauce and cheese. His breathing was labored and his stomach was cramped and quivering as he pushed slice after slice into it. He was the epitome of gluttony and he didn’t even see Andrew over his shoulder.
As he picked up the 8th slice, Andrew coughed and spoke.
“Hungry, huh, big guy?” he said.
Manny dropped the slice and stood up abruptly, flinching as the tight dome of his repressed gut bumped against the table, knocking it back a few inches. He didn’t meet Andrew’s eyes.
“I, uh, I should go,” he muttered, the heat rising in his cheeks and beefy neck.
Before Manny could turn away, Andrew, not missing a beat, quickly stepped up beside him. He grabbed the slice and placed his other hand behind Manny’s head. He turned it toward the slice and said “eat.”
Andrew had no idea what came over him. Seeing the beefy stud chowing down like no tomorrow seemed to have awakened some ancient desire within him. Manny’s mouth hung open as he stared at Andrew, uncomprehending.
“Wha-“ he started to say, but the pizza slice sailed straight into his mouth. Automatically, his mouth clamped down on a third of it and began chewing against his will, his eyebrows knitted with worry at what this could mean.
Andrew put his hand on Manny’s cheek and slapped it lightly.
“I could tell something was off about you when you came in,” Andrew smiled, allowing Manny to chew his food and swallow before pressing the slice against his lips again. “I get it now. You are worried about your figure. I can see why your night was so shitty…those clubs are the worst when it comes to bigger guys. But, as you can clearly see, there are some of us who like a guy who enjoys his food.”
Andrew allowed his other hand to brush against Manny’s hard stomach. It involuntarily quivered, as Manny tried to suck it in, but probably only succeeded in a quarter inch or so. Andrew frowned and took charge.
“Sit,” he said. Manny obliged, pulling his chair back and sitting down again. In the back of his mind, Andrew knew the scene looked ridiculous: Manny was a few inches taller and a LOT more muscular. The fact that he was ordering around a guy who could beat him to a pulp somehow electrified him.
Manny felt like a kid who had been caught stealing too many cookies from the jar (in his case, a veritable ton of them). He felt miserable and embarrassed being seen stuffing his face by this stranger. However, things had taken a really odd turn. He had expected the guy to look upon him with disgust like so many of the patrons at the club, but the combination of the lust in his eyes and what he just told him opened a whole new line of thoughts in his brain. Somehow, the chain of events leading up to where this might be going excited Manny. He was no longer drunk; the whole pizza he ingested had taken care of that. However, it scared him that though he was fighting hard to prevent his gut from swelling outward, he was losing a different battle of the bulge occurring in his shorts right now…
“Still got that other pizza?” whispered Manny, a loud gurgle emanating from his gut.
Wasting no time, Andrew whipped around to the other table, grabbing the other extra large and setting it down in front of Manny. His own cock jumped when he saw the huscular stud tear it open in front of him and grab the first slice. With renewed zeal, Manny tore into the pizza, not caring if he was being watched, but actually turned on now that he had an audience. Constantly used to guys moving out of his way because of his physique and visual dominance, he had never been on the opposite side of the spectrum before, as if a submissive glutton had been residing deep inside of him this whole time, unable to stop eating and stuffing himself.
Manny’s psyche, however, was still at war. He kept the vice-lock on his beefy torso dangerously tight, refusing to give in. A remnant of his old life still hung on desperately, afraid of the new life that could be waiting for him, pushing against the tidal wave that his stomach struggled to contain with both metaphysical hands. The mounting pressure sat heavily atop of his prostate, stimulating it, which in turn caused his cock to throb painfully as it engorged itself more than usual. It pressed hard against the fabric of his cotton shorts as a wet spot formed against his thigh.
Andrew watched in erotic fascination, as the beefalo progressively stuffed a quarter, then half of the pizza down his gullet in seven minutes flat. He made several sounds of glutted satisfaction and would look up at Andrew from time to time. Where was it all going? Andrew’s eyes drifted down every minute to where the stud’s belly should have been poking out of the suspiciously loose-fitting shirt, swearing he could see the outline of a domed belly, only for it to jerk back and disappear again. He observed the disappearing act a few times, slightly unnerved even though he was turned on overall.
A pause in the noises of gluttony caused Andrew to snap out of his reverie. He jerked his head up to Manny’s face and noticed that he was staring directly at him. It shocked Andrew that he finished the pizza so quickly while he wasn’t paying attention, but what was more pressing was the look on Manny’s face.
Manny looked angry. No, that was an understatement. He looked outright pissed. He stood up suddenly, causing Andrew to involuntarily jerk back, expecting to get his face smashed in. Manny stood there, breathing heavily, tomato sauce dripping from his chin and staining his shirt. Andrew followed a particular sauce drip as it fell toward the floor. Except it didn’t hit the floor.
The swollen, can-sized outline of Manny’s cock twitched as the sauce drip hit it. It stretched his shorts, causing the left short leg to raise a few inches above his knee. It was of average length, but Andrew could tell it was extremely wide and fat, like a kielbasa.
“Hot damn,” Andrew breathed, as Manny stepped toward him suddenly, grabbing his wrist in a vice-grip. He pulled Andrew with him toward the restroom.
“Ack…shit,” Andrew grimaced. Manny’s grip loosened somewhat, not wanting to hurt the little guy. The pressure on his prostate was immense and his cock felt more swollen than usual, like he took a bottle of Viagra or something. His full balls ached for release, having been denied the night’s exploits earlier but now finding a new potential avenue for relief.
The bathroom was simple and small. White tile, plain walls, a sink, urinal and two stalls. These minute details were lost on Manny as he pushed Andrew against the wall. He leaned his forearm against the section of wall above Andrew’s head. He flexed his large pecs and biceps menacingly before locking his mouth on Andrew’s.
Regaining his senses and not wanting to be outdone, Andrew groped Manny’s pecs, feeling his large, hard nipples through the shirt fabric. Will all his might, he shoved Manny toward the open stall. Almost as if he were playing a game, Manny playfully leaned his weight into Andrew, making the push progressively difficult as Andrew started to huff with difficulty. The fleshy pecs dug between his fingers as Andrew succeeded in getting them both inside the stall. Manny’s muscular ass hit the toilet tank, causing him to moan as he thrusted his pelvis into the open air toward Andrew. His cock only seemed to become more frustrated, as it swelled harder and harder against its cloth prison.
Andrew quickly closed the flimsy stall door behind him and latched it. He liked the intimacy of the enclosed space, plus it was coinciding with one of dozens of mini fantasies he’d often dreamed up while at work (stuffing a hunk with pizza he’d just made being another). No sooner had he finished latching the door that he heard the clinking sound of a belt being hastily undone behind him.
Turning around, he could feel Manny’s knees bumping into his shins. Manny had taken the liberty to sit down on the closed toilet seat…and remove his shorts and underwear as well. Along with his thick belt, they sat loosely atop of his sneakers around fat, monster calves. Andrew’s focus, however, was on the thick, throbbing tool he was tasked with satisfying.
He had underestimated its thickness. The phallus was wide, sure, as much as any beer can, possibly bigger. The head, however, had pulsed and mushroomed to large-doorknob status. It was slightly purpled with excitement as precum steadily flowed from its slit. Within his ballsack hung two large testicles, seeming to stretch the scrotum full and tight. A short, curly black bush between thick, hairy thighs completed the presentation as if to say “come get it…if you can handle it.”
Andrew would not balk in the face of such a monster. As turned on and experienced as he was at such tasks, his own cock bobbing in anticipation, he still preferred having some encouragement. He wanted to see the “whole package,” as it were.
Manny licked his own lips, staring at Andrew with both lust and curious inquisition as he began to strip. He moaned as his cock notched up fatter at the sight of Andrew’s abs and swimmer’s build. His mind did nothing to help with his situation as he imagined the hot twink stuffing him, not caring about his size, with slice after slice of pizza.
Once he was completely naked, his own average-sized dick arched achingly against his hard abs, Andrew hoped Manny knew what was coming next. He thought it was adorable that the stud was self-conscious about his weight, which somehow made him even sexier (the pratfall effect), but he needed to see the damage for himself. He wanted to see the beefy god in his entirety before he was about to service him.
He kissed Manny, one hand stroking the shaft of his thick cock as he stood over it, eliciting gasps, the other pressing his Manny’s head forcefully against his own. Then he transitioned, cupping both of Manny’s elbows as he made him raise both of his arms above his head. Andrew took hold of both sleeves, removing Manny’s shirt in one smooth swoop.
Andrew drunk in the sight of Manny’s beefy pecs and swollen ab-ball pushing out over his cock. His belly seemed to be losing the battle of the bulge, but for some reason, Andrew expected it to be bigger. It seemed to be quivering in silent intensity, as if straining to hold something back.
If he had been paying more attention, Andrew would have noticed the light sheen of sweat forming on Manny’s brow. Once he knew Andrew wanted to see his naked torso, that old ghost of himself put his belly in an invisible corset and was pulling both ends to make sure it stayed tight at all costs. The fear of rejection still haunted him.
Andrew began planting light kisses from the stubble of Manny’s chin to his neck and pecs. He put a nipple in his mouth and used his tongue to play with it, feeling Manny’s body shudder from the action. He then moved down to that beef ball, massaging it and letting his tongue flick in and out of his navel. He could hear gurgles from deep within, the stomach vibrating at his touch. Manny seemed to be in heaven.
Putting both hands on the thick shaft, Andrew lowered to his knees and looked up at Manny. The stud licked his lips expectantly, the crest of his ab-ball shuddering every time he took a breath. Andrew opened his mouth and went to work on the tool. He was able to fit the head into his mouth, allowing it to flare out and press against his tongue and the roof of his maw. He vigorously worked the shaft with both hands, hoping to extract its juices as quickly as possible.
Manny relished the sensation. He had been fighting against his own body for so long that night that it felt good to give in to the blow job and lose sight of himself. He could tell that Andrew had experience and was glad that his thickness wasn’t off-putting. He had always been well-endowed in that department. He put a hand on his gut, feeling it relax just the tiniest bit…
For the next minute, Andrew was so busy working Manny’s meaty tool that he didn’t notice that the rumbling from within his repressed stomach was growing steadily louder. His eyes were closed in concentration as he took in the musk and sensation of the act, feeling the strong, veiny shaft between his fingers as it throbbed. When he felt ready, he let go of the shaft, placing his hands on top of both thighs. He slowly moved further down the shaft, allowing more of the cock to enter his mouth. He barely moved an inch before his forehead bumped into something. He opened his eyes.
“Ung, unf,” Manny moaned, gyrating his hips toward Andrew. His eyes were closed as he savored Andrew attempting to deep throat his cock. He groped his own pecs and pinched his nipples as pent-up tension began to leave his body.
Andrew stared in shock as the ledge of Manny’s ab-ball began to press into his forehead, preventing him from taking any more of the thick shaft in. His eyes were only inches from a navel that seemed to be edging closer and closer to his face.
Wanting to get a better perspective on things, Andrew moved back and made to remove Manny’s dick from his mouth.
It didn’t budge. Andrew opened his mouth as wide as he could, but the cock head had instantly swollen to feverish rock-hardness, seeking to fill as much space as it could. The verdict? It had effectively become a ball gag, the mushroom head wedged firmly inside his jaws and teeth. Andrew couldn’t even bite down; it was too tight and he had no leverage.
He began fighting an automatic gag reflex, but paused when he heard a strange sound. There was an audible groaning, but it wasn’t coming from Manny. Andrew watched in horror as the vibrating ab-ball that he was worshipping earlier seemed to be slowly widening before his eyes, the ab striations disappearing in the flesh as it expanded.
Andrew frantically pushed against Manny’s thighs, making a bobbing motion as he desperately tried to get the cock head out of his mouth.
Manny, still lost in mental bliss, felt Andrew’s fingers digging hard into his quadriceps and hamstrings which were slightly sore from a previous workout. The sensation amplified the pleasure of the blow job, causing his ass cheeks to clench involuntarily. He then felt Andrew pull hard at his cock, progressively more intense each time he did it. The suction was unbearable; he had never had a blow job this good before. His cock was so heated that he debated telling Andrew to stop, that it was too much and he needed a break. It was when Andrew elicited a series of loud, distressed and frantic moans that Manny lost control. He loved a man who was vocal during a blow job. It was the icing on the cake he needed to be sent over the edge.
“Fuck…yeah…” Manny breathed, his heartbeat racing, as the roller coaster sensation in his loins was about to reach an apex of pleasure before plunging into a mind-numbing explosion of sheer ecstasy.
Andrew made a final, strong push away, but to no avail. If anything, it finalized the staccato short breaths emitting from Manny as he lifted his head toward the ceiling and growled loudly. It was already too late. Andrew could literally feel the veins pulsing through the cock shaft leading to his mouth as Manny’s body concentrated on making this the largest orgasm he had ever swallowed.
Manny felt the strings of the phantom corset begin to snap as his body was overcome with such pleasure that he was at a loss for words. He could only see multicolored stars as orgasmic bliss threatened to make him pass out. His entire body shuddered as it relaxed, the mental corset on his beefy paunch fraying and tearing off as his night’s gorging began to finally reveal its damage. The freedom and delight his body experienced from releasing this burden instantly multiplied the power of the orgasm, as the pressure transitioned to stimulating his PB muscle, causing his cock to spurt rope after rope of cum with increasing ferocity.
Andrew’s eyes watered and bulged, his cheeks full to bursting as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of Manny’s seed. He could barely keep up. He would have continued trying to get the fire hose cock out of his mouth too, if it wasn’t for another, more pressing problem.
In the matter of a few seconds, Manny’s supposed “muscle” belly had passed overfed jock status and was continuing to swell rapidly. It transitioned to beer gut size as it began to round out the sides, his happy trail spreading outward as the hairs separated. No sooner had this happened that Andrew was fighting just to continue breathing. The blob-like belly was quickly reaching Buddha-sized proportions as it lazily began to lap downward toward Andrew’s forehead and nose. The problem was, his mouth was currently “occupied” at the moment, leaving his nose as his only option for breathing. He formed a diamond with his two hands, creating a space between his nose and the encroaching mass. He could feel a monstrous vibration as the gurgling mass walled up against his hands, bulging upward and around his fingers with increased fervor.
Manny braced his hands against the sides the stall as he groaned loudly. He didn’t expect Andrew to be THIS experienced. No matter what he did, he only seemed to increase the power of Manny’s orgasm, like he was coaxing more and more cum from some sort of phantom reserve deep within himself. The latest and most intense move Andrew did was shove his hands deep into Manny’s sore belly. It had undergone so much abuse in the past few hours that it was now the most sensitive part of his body, even more so than his pulsing cock. He was completely unprepared for the double-handed diamond push into the soft part of his belly just above his groin. It was as if a floodgate was suddenly released, every cell screaming, his nipples on fire, as a shockwave rebounded from his gut, spreading to his fingertips and toes, before rebounding with a vengeance onto his poor cock and balls.
Andrew whimpered as the cum began pumping into him faster, his ability to breathe regained but his hope for the situation lost. Manny’s reddened, groaning face slowly disappeared from view by the tanned, buoyant mass that was growing impossibly faster. Soon he was pushing against a yoga ball of slightly-hairy, Italian-grade beef. Manny’s gut was beginning to develop a crease down the middle of his belly, the kind that roid-gut weightlifters get when they don’t stop continuing to put on mass. It served as a natural divide to promote equal weight distribution on either side, with the belly button smack-dab in the middle.
But what happened when it didn’t stop? Andrew imagined a peach on growth hormones, ripening to a point that would be considered ready to eat, but continued to ripen, the natural crease becoming overburdened as new fruit flesh kept on developing on either side and fattened uncontrollably. The crease would have to reassess itself and grow along with the two halves as the peach over-ripened, with no choice but to grow.
That’s what Manny’s mammoth belly was beginning to resemble: a massive, over-ripened peach that didn’t know when to stop growing.
As Andrew watched the steadily-swelling mass in horror, he felt a cramp seize his stomach. Between all the senses he had to endure visually and physically, he had neglected another problem. He could not spare a second to look down, but he knew everything flowing from that cum geyser had to go somewhere.
A sudden tightness told him that his uniform slacks button was having a hell of a time holding back the sloshing potbelly he probably now sported. It must have been rapidly passing veteran beer-drinking status because he felt a sudden release as his slacks button exploded off, causing a seam-stretching expansion of several inches, his belly uncomfortably filling the void. He felt a smaller, more critical release as what he could only guess was his belly button popping out, his glutted mass continuing to pressurize as it fought for more room anywhere it could spare. His Paulie’s Pizza shirt rode several inches above the center of his potbelly while his outie rubbed against the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. Oddly enough, even though there were tears streaming down the sides of his face from the discomfort, Andrew’s hard-on betrayed him, as it slapped the underside of his dangerously swollen gut, egging it to grow more, to stimulate the outie with more forceful rubbing. If Andrew had a free hand, deny it as he would, he’d be groping and mashing that outie like no tomorrow. In a minute, he wouldn’t have to.
Manny, his eyes still tightly shut, rode out what he could only describe as probably the best orgasm he would ever have. Without realizing it, he finally accepted his fate as a big guy. During the remainder of the seemingly endless orgasm, he imagined what it would be like to be hooked up to an endless feeding machine, piloted by Andrew, as he was stuffed with entire large pizzas, barely finishing one before another was shoved into his mouth. His cheeks would bulge cartoonishly as he swallowed them whole, with barely enough time to breathe. He had no choice but to eat and grow, ballooning up to, then past his old man’s size as his moobs expanded with muscle and fat, pushing into his face with reckless abandon. His gut would continue to expand endlessly, with mechanical arms trying to heave and support his bulk, but eventually failing as he slowly filled the pizza kitchen. That’s how he felt now, an expanding fat-balloon with no end in sight.
He opened his eyes, at first not comprehending what he saw. His blurred vision slowly focused on what was a tan-colored board slowly rising to eye-level in front of his face. In a split second, he realized that the board was covered with a vaguely familiar trail of hair. In the next split second, he realized that trail of hair was connected to the diamond patch of hair between his beefy pecs, which were now being pressed against his face.
Holy crap.
“HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!!!” Manny yelled, as the mass that was his gut pushed forcefully against the sides of the stalls, having no choice but to grow up and forward. All of the sensations he thought he imagined in his fantasy, from the ever-expanding gut balloon to the robot arms trying to support his bulk, took on real “weight” in front of Manny’s eyes as the last of his cum reserves were pumped out in an astounding flourish.
Andrew didn’t know what would happen first, his gut swelling to bursting or suffocation. His strength reserves were split between supporting his inflating spare tire with his knees and holding up the tidal wave of inflating blubber beginning to overtake him. The mass began to bunch up higher and higher above his fingers until the upper half of the behemoth belly was resting comfortably atop of Andrew’s head and getting heavier by the second. Manny’s wide navel sat atop of Andrew’s head like some gluttonous crown, its sides filling considerably with more fat every second and causing it to deepen endlessly. Needless to say, his arms were losing the battle, but suffocation would be the less painful way to go at least, he thought futilely.
A surprised yell from Manny at that moment, however, warned Andrew that he might be too late for even that option. The next few spurts were so strong and sudden, that his esophagus was forced open by a tidal wave of ejaculate. He literally felt the cum hose inflating his tortured belly directly, causing it to push against the porcelain seat and around it. It began to push back against Andrew, but he couldn’t go anywhere, kept in place by his cock gag. His arms went limp to his size, hoping to be smothered before he exploded. However, he underestimated the sheer weight he was supporting with both his hands and his head, as Manny’s colossal gut bared down on him, combining with the force of his own blimped-out gut.
Andrew’s face was blinded and covered with blubbery flab for a few moments, the pressure causing him to see spots from behind his eye sockets. He was able to hold his breath for the time it took for both his massive ball belly and Manny’s absolutely massive, planetary belly to force him back with an untold amount of force his arms were unable to muster earlier. Slowly but surely, he felt the gigantic mushroom head, which was finally starting to lose some of its swollen hardness, slide out of his mouth and past his lips. Andrew’s head instantly whiplashed backward, hitting the tile, but not hard enough to injure him seriously. His body was fighting between two instincts before the more important one won out, but only temporarily. He sucked in a massive breath before it transmorphed into a record-shattering belch that lasted for a few seconds. A small cum trail dribbled out the side of his mouth as he tried to digest, both figuratively and literally, what just happened to him.
Manny was in a similar situation. He heard a belch vibrating from underneath his whopper of a gut, which was spread liberally from side to side within the now-tiny bathroom stall. The belch was followed by a loud groaning as he felt something shift underneath his belly. He did not know it was Andrew’s smaller, but still gargantuan, potbelly as it suddenly pushed upward, attempting to follow Andrew’s transit backward. The result was a slightly excruciating, yet extremely pleasurable sensation for Andrew as his outie began to grind first against the toilet, then against Manny’s gut. His dick, slick with precum, slid easily between the two opposing, pressured forces, as it began to convulse and spurt uncontrollably, lubing up both bellies and making the rest of the tectonic shift easier.
All Manny saw from this exchange was his belly: his massive, hedonistic, blubbery, swollen, stuffed belly. As Andrew’s gut shifted back, it raised Manny’s belly higher and higher, causing Manny to worry that he wasn’t finished growing yet. In truth, he wasn’t, but the growth had slowed down to a few pulsing inches added to his circumference every few seconds, as it ebbed with the end of his orgasm. Together, both Manny and Andrew resembled an enormous, highly compressed Yin and Yang symbol within that miniscule stall, Andrew’s pale gut contrasting with Manny’s slightly darker, more tanned one. Both bellies were fighting for space, bulging slightly bigger and tighter against the flimsy walls every second, as a distressed creaking began to sound…
*******************************
Taylor was pretty damn hungry. After he hung up with the pizza employee at Paulie’s, his belly rumbled as if on cue, realizing that it might be denied a meal. He bit his lip and made sure that his blue baseball cap was tightly wedged backward atop his head, a tuft of dark-brown hair poking out the front, before making a split-second decision.
Taylor was a classic case of the impact that the munchies had on a college ex-jock in his sophomore year after prolonged weed use. He was wearing an old, large button-up shirt over his fattened belly and love handles, which were seriously starting to overflow his 42 inch pants. His friends gave him chiding remarks and pinched his flab from time to time, but he actually didn’t mind his extra heft at all. In fact, a small part of him relished the attention his rapid weight gain over the past year was getting.
Simply put, Taylor had grown affectionate of his size and he wasn’t about to stop now. He asked his buddies if any of them wanted to join him on the way to the pizza shop. It was a short walk, maybe 15 minutes, and if they started now they would make it in time before it closed. One of his buddies took a particularly large hit from the bong and joked that Taylor might lose some precious calories by taking his gut “out for a stroll.” He even smacked Taylor’s belly lightly for emphasis when he said it. It jiggled playfully, a sliver of his hairy gut already poking out because of yesterday’s secret, personal stuffing.
“Oh, don’t worry, bro, I plan on MORE than making up for it,” Taylor joked back, grabbing his gut with one hand and shaking it while slapping it hard with his other hand. It quivered and jiggled way more violently than when his friend did it, Taylor doing it on purpose because liked the hypnotic effect it had on his buddy.
His friend stared, entranced by the shaking, blubbery flesh covered by the plaid button up, in which tiny slivers of hairy flesh could be seen between the straining buttons. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, then took another hit before passing it to another friend in the circle.
“Guess I’ll take that as a no to the walk, then,” Taylor mused, as he headed out. “I’ll be back, dudes!”
He was barely out of earshot when his friend muttered, “I swear, he has been blowing up into a friggin’ blimp over this past year.”
There were a few nervous chuckles of assent from the group as they continued to take hits from the bong, wondering just how much fatter their friend would get during the next few years of college, or whether he would ever stop growing.
**************************************
“Hello?” Taylor called. He had just entered Paulie’s Pizza parlor, feeling his empty, yet heavy belly sway hungrily as he power walked to the counter. There was no one there. The store was empty of any activity. Well, almost.
He was about to call again, frustrated, when he heard a strange sound coming from the back of the store. He listened intently. He thought he heard human voices coming from the bathroom. Maybe the workers were on a restroom break?
Taylor waited politely for a minute before he started hearing a different noise entirely. A loud creaking noise was emanating from the bathroom. His stubbled face tilted to the side, frowning, trying to discern what could possibly be making that sound. Eventually, his curiosity got to the best of him and he began to make slow, deliberate steps toward the source of the racket.
“Hello?” he repeated, cautiously. Two low moans answered him. Taylor began to get a little weirded out and began to wonder whether this was a good idea or not. His fat belly rumbled suddenly, giving him the courage to continue and get what he came here for.
He stepped into the men’s restroom and noticed immediately that something was off. There were two stalls, but the one closest to the urinal seemed odd. It was misshapen, or better yet, warped, as it seemed to be bending outward. The creaking sound was coming from the metal fastenings keeping the stall attached to the wall and the ground. They were bending against some unknown, malevolent force.
Speaking of which, when Taylor viewed the metal attachment keeping the stall’s outer wall attached to the ground, it was hard to miss the strange, quivering masses bulging out from underneath the stall. He couldn’t decide whether they resembled a giant pair of breasts or buttocks, but closer inspection would reveal that the two masses were in fact separate entities, differentiated by their skin tone.
The creaking grew steadily louder. The pair of moans inside the stall began to take on a desperate, more excited tone.
“Hello? Is somebody th…” Taylor said, before being cut off.
He flinched back a step as the metal fastenings instantly broke, causing the wall and door to explode off of the stall as the two masses glutted out to their final form. The stall door hit the tile wall of the bathroom with a loud BANG as the other part of the stall hit the urinal and rebounded off at an angle before coming to rest on the ground inches from Taylor’s feet.
Taylor was now looking face to face at one of the biggest man-guts he had ever seen. It was as tall as him, for shit’s sake! Manny’s colossal belly shifted to the side, giving Andrew’s dangerously packed and ponderous endowment some much needed space. Andrew groaned as the pressure of the stall and Manny’s weight was relieved, instantly causing his massive gut to bloat outward another foot, his outie expanding to the size of a tennis ball, before finally being at peace. Manny looked to be several hundred pounds fatter, the family “curse” he fought so hard against having exacted its vengeance tenfold on his old athletic build. His hairy navel was now a foot wide and absolutely cavernous, challenging the world to test how deep it was, which Taylor felt a strange compelling to do so, his subconscious mind noticing that Manny’s navel was coincidentally the same level as his groin. Taylor shook his head. Why was his dick starting to get hard?
When Manny’s gut finished its lazy shift away from Andrew’s belly, Taylor could not help but think about lava lamps and their hypnotic power, especially after a long toking sesh. Taylor’s own high had long since disappeared, as his eyes drifted to and recognized the telltale Paulie’s Pizza shirt riding high on the massive gut pinning Andrew down.
He walked over and stared down at the pizza parlor employee. Andrew’s eyes stared dully over the crest of his gut at the customer. Taylor placed a hand on Manny’s massive, bloated globe that had ripened far past human limits. He felt the slight crease going down the epicenter of the gigantic sphere, fat packed so much to either side that it was difficult to tell if the crease was even there.
“Duuuuuude…” he said in hungry awe, turning his head to his own fat, yet comically small belly and looking down at Andrew. “I’ll fucking have what he’s having!”