Prisoner To My Body
Feat. @plushparadise
I try hard to avoid places like Lucky Charlie’s Burger Joint. I mean, let’s be honest: the places are never completely clean, the stoves are probably covered in grease that has been there too long, and the people are always seedy and gross. Middle to late aged people wearing vintage 60’s Grease the movie type clothes and lie about using a secret family recipe when it comes to their “famous” burgers. I bet they buy them in bulk from Sam’s Club or something as use Mrs. Dash as their seasoning. There’s also the fact that I’m trying to watch my weight, but that’s not important.
So, when Fred decided that’s where he wanted to go for his birthday, I was obviously hesitant.
“Come on, Loque.” (Pronounced LOCK, thanks to my bougie parents.) “for your birthday I took you to Dave and Buster’s and watched you get drunk and attempt a bathroom hookup.”
“But you DID see how delicious the bartender’s ass was…”
“Regardless, it’s my birthday and I have decided. Just eat a burger with me and get over it.”
Sighing in defeat, I agreed to go.
The interior was exactly what I feared it would be: red vinyl booths and barstools. Checkered floors. Jukebox playing Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. I rolled my eyes and sat down in a corner booth with Fred.
“See? It’s not so bad.”
I gave him a blank stare and when back to my menu. And just as I thought: all grease, carbs, and mountains of calories.
“Hey boys,” came a high pitched sound of the elderly waitress that squeezed herself into a pink one piece costume complete with apron and Lucille Ball wig. “What can I get y’all to start with?”
“Strawberry lemonade, please,” Fred asked sweetly.
“Diet Coke for me, please,” I answered. She looked up from her notepad and looked me dead in the eyes, never losing her below minimum wage smile.
“Sorry sugar, we don’t carry Diet Coke. We don’t believe in it here. But we do have regular.”
“Fine. I’ll take a regular coke. And hopefully I don’t die of diabetic shock trying to choke it down.”
Never breaking a sweat or the smile, she replied, “Hopefully you don’t choke at all.” And with that, she walked off.
I looked over at Fred astonished at what was just said to me. “DUDE! This is seriously where you want to eat?! Did you hear what she just said?”
He was clearly annoyed, and I could tell by the look he was giving me. “Loque, shut up. It’s my birthday. Just eat and we will never come here again. Lose your attitude and pretend like you’re enjoying this, okay? For me?” He was pleading so hard and I could see it in his eyes. I caved, for him.
“I’m sorry. Yes, for you I will try.” With that, I put on a cheesy smile, which made him laugh.
“Good.”
The waitress came back and handed us our drinks. I ordered a cheeseburger with fries (pretending in front of Fred that I wasn’t thinking about grease or calories) and he ordered a double. He wasn’t one to think about any of that stuff. He had a small bit of belly on his thin frame, but he never seemed to mind it. Even when he was technically the “fattest” guy in our athletically charged group of friends, Fred never felt uncomfortable. The guys would sometimes poke fun, and sometimes even poke, at the small little roll that collected by the waistband of his jeans when he sat or when he stretched how his shirt would ride up just enough to expose the extra pounds of flesh that he carelessly sported.
We made simple small talk while we waited for our food. Eventually Fred’s mood returned to normal and we started to enjoy ourselves. I settled into what I once thought was uncomfortable and gross and started to find small amounts of pleasure in this place. It’s not so bad, I thought to myself. I mean, yeah, it’s not my cup of tea. But it does seem like a…oh look, someone’s disgusting cheeseburger…wait, why is it coming closer? Oh, FUCK no!
And there it sat in front of me: a slab of thick greasy beef between toasted buns, dripping in fat and melted cheese and probably past its prime vegetables. The french fries looked palatable at best, minus the large amounts of sodium someone carelessly dumped onto them.
Fred, of course, was in heaven.
“Oh my god, this looks amazing! Thank you so much!” He told our waitress with the world’s biggest grin. I proceeded to fake one for them both.
Fred dug right in, and I slowly ate fry after fry, quickly followed by a sip of coke, which in itself needed to be followed by water, if I was allowed anything healthy at this shit show of a lunch.
“Are you afraid of your burger?” Fred asked between bites of food.
I faked a chuckle. “No. Just wanted to take my time.” Since he was eyeing me, pressuring me into it, I grabbed the greasy mess with both hands, feeling the soggy bun between my fingers, I lifted it to my lips and reluctantly took a bite.
“See?” He said with a cheesy grin. “That’s not so bad, now is it?”
I swallowed. “No, it’s fine.”
I took a few more bites of the burger before I felt it: a gurgle in my stomach. And nausea. My skin started to prickle with goosebumps and I suddenly got very cold, feeling a sharp chill run up my spine and through every part of me.
“I don’t feel so good, Fred.”
“Well, you look fine.”
“No, I mean I really feel bad. I think it might’ve been something I ate.”
This is when Fred got really pissed with me.
“You know what? I’m done. You honestly couldn’t fake one day for me, could you? It had to be all about you. And on the one day I you could have been less selfish and just do one thing for me. Well, fuck you.” With that, he slapped down a twenty-dollar bill and walked out of the diner.
I just sat there in silence, head down in shame. Yes, I had been a prick. But the nausea had been real! Wait…HAD been real. Where was it now?
The nausea had been replaced with a low rumble and a bit of discomfort. Was I…HUNGRY?
Before I could answer that, my hands were lifting fry after fry into my mouth. My eyes widened as the fries that should have stayed on the plate were disappearing behind my lips. When there wasn’t a fry left, my hands grabbed the burger and practically mashed it into my face, leaving me no choice but to open and chew, quickly swallowing to make room for the greasy mass that refused to leave my mouth. When that was gone, and I regained control of my hands, I grabbed a wad of napkins and cleaned the grease from my face. I was about to get up and forget this entire ordeal, when I eyed Fred’s half eaten double burger. As if something had taken over me, I climbed over the table and propped myself up on my elbows. My hands grabbed for his burger and I devoured it, cramming in fries as I rapidly chewed.
I slammed my ass back down and chugged my soda, finishing with a huge burp that shocked even me. Who it didn’t shock was the waitress, who apparently was there to witness the whole thing.
“So then, still got more room?”
“YES!” I fired back, but not me. It was someone else. Someone I didn’t recognize talking.
“What will it be then?” She asked with a smile.
“Two more burgers with a basket of fries. A large strawberry milkshake and leave the blender cup. And pie.”
“How many slices?”
“A pie,” I corrected her, shocked at the words that were flying out of my mouth.
“Coming right up.” Before she walked away, she added, “A party of six just left here a few minutes ago and left a lot of food on the table. Wasteful assholes. Mind clearing the table for me?”
My stomach let out a huge roar and I answered immediately, “Sure thing.”
As she walked to place the order, I left my table and headed towards the far wall of the diner. I eyed the damage and simultaneously with my jaw dropping, my belly let out another low growl. Plates of burgers, fries, fried chicken, sides of coleslaw and apple sauce, half a fried porkchop, half a melted vanilla milkshake, and to top it off, a cold bowl of soup that hadn’t even been touched.
My body didn’t even sit down. I was at the mercy of hunger and something much darker and more mysterious. My hands worked in a frenzy and my mouth tried to keep up. I could only control my mouth and was a slave to my body. Handfuls of fries were thrust between my lips, before I could finish more burgers. I felt like a cow with how much beef I was now consuming. Once the burgers were gone, three and a half in total by the way, I practically sucked the meat off drumsticks and tore the porkchop apart, leaving nothing but barren bones. Coleslaw was scraped into my open mouth, topped with the remains of applesauce. I downed the bowl of cold soup, not spilling a drop, and that was followed with the milkshake. Fifteen minutes later and everything was gone, spare a few crumbs.
The bell on the counter dinged and I knew my order was ready. As I walked back to the table, I felt a stiffness in my midsection. I stopped and looked down and saw my swollen and distended belly pushing against my button up. My hands rubbed the area, and I felt the familiar growl, along with a warming sensation. My gut slowly sucked itself back in, and the hunger returned. I was about to walk back to my table when I felt it: a warm surge. My belly pressed against my shirt again, putting pressure on the buttons, and when I felt it again, there was no resistance or tightness. My fingers sunk into my soft belly; a belly of fat. I walked back to the table, feeling the little belly I had wobble and bounce the best it could in my tight shirt. There was no time for feelings or thinking when I saw my table.
Just like I ordered: two greasy cheeseburgers, each with a basket of fries, a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and two cherries, with the other half in the tin cup, and a whole banana cream pie. I licked my lips, which was either voluntary or involuntary, I’m not sure which, and sat down to eat.
The burgers were devoured first almost in three bites each. I didn’t think my mouth was even capable of taking bites that big! Grease ran down my chin and only my straining shirt as milkshake dipped fries were chewed and swallowed, the salt and sugar becoming an intoxicating mixture. Soon both baskets were emptied and I lifted the milkshake to my lips, and as I chugged the thick concoction, my hand rested on my burgeoning belly and started to rub it and I swallowed each drop. Before I knew it, the tin cup holding another entire milkshake was raised and I swallowed faster than I ever thought possible. My hand still stuck on my gut, and I swear I felt it pushing against my hand with each swallow.
The cup clang on the table and a handful of pie was brought to my mouth. And before I could finish that mound of pie, another handful was waiting. My body was becoming my own worst enemy and I couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t until the pie pan was empty that I sucked pie filling and crust crumbs from my fingers. At last, I sat back and looked at the table of empty plates and cups.
“And how are we feeling?” The waitress asked clearing my table.
I let out a loud, embarrassing belch. “I’m good, thank you. It was delicious.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” She asked with a wink and walked away.
Just when I thought this whole ordeal was over, my stomach let out another loud growl.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said loudly. “I should be done now!” My swollen belly started to dissipate again, and I was afraid of what would happen next.
It began to grow. Soft warm fat began to inflate on my midsection, and all I could do is watch. It pushed at my shirt, making it appear to be painted on. The funny thing is, as fat as I was growing, my shirt never burst. The buttons were becoming more and more strained and gaps were forming between them. My chest also started to grow, puffy and round like small breasts, and my hard nipples were poking at the fabric, becoming sensitive and making me moan loud. My hands were still resting on my gut as I felt my ass widen and thighs thicken. My arms became fleshier and I just sat there, a slave to the weight.
The growing stopped as the diner bell dinged and in walked a fat kid. I say fat because his clothes didn’t appear to fit. His round belly forced his shirt up, revealing a tan hairy belly just below the hem. His fat ass was barely covered by his pants and bounced dangerously as he ran to the counter. Something about him seemed familiar though as he turned towards me. As I recognized Fred with an added one hundred pounds on his already soft frame, my cock became rock hard, and my shirt exploded open. My fat jiggled free and rested on my lap, a ball of warm fat. Fred starred at my newly acquired belly, tits, and stretchmarks, and I saw a tent being pitched in his pants. Clearly, our bellies weren’t the only things that grew.
He rubbed his belly and smiled.
“So… you still hungry?”
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Did These Shrink in The Wash?
Feat. @natedrake90
No, no, NOO! This cannot be happening. Not today. Not for my sister’s graduation!
These angry thoughts were going through Harry’s mind as he struggled beyond belief to fasten his jeans. The Levis weren’t even three weeks old, and fit when he bought them, were now refusing to fasten. With all of Harry’s strength, he couldn’t get the denim to close. Worse, he was running late, and his mother would be pissed.
It was Lucy’s graduation, and Harry had not seen his family for several months, too busy at work to see them. Besides getting home late from work, on a day where he was supposed to be leaving early, he had to maneuver around empty pizza boxes and Chinese cartons to find his clean clothes. He was eating out a lot these few months because of how busy work kept him. He was making daily stops to Mcdonald’s and Taco Bell, but work picked up the tab.
Deciding to continue the fight of the fasten later, he reached for his plaid dress shirt. This has to fit, he thought to himself as he fit his arms through the sleeves. And it seemed to fit, until he felt resistance buttoning his shirt. The first two buttons went easy, with a slight strain on the third and fourth. But as he progressed down the shirt, he felt more and more pressure. How can this be happening?
Getting angry and red, Harry sucked in and held his breath, quickly buttoned the remaining buttons, tucked in the shirt, and fought an almost unwinnable war with his pants until they finally closed. Conveniently, he managed to finish getting dressed in front of his mirror.
Sighing in relief, he finally breathed. This proved to be a big mistake. Without warning, buttons went flying off his shirt, a few pinging against the glass, cracking the mirror where they hit. The button on his pants exploded open, surrendering and refusing to stay fastened.
Fuck, Harry thought, am I really THIS fat? He was forced to face his fat reflection in the mirror and couldn’t not believe his eyes. His belly jutted from the top of his jeans, showing off what forced his clothes to explode. He walked closer to the mirror and examined his body.
Have these stretchmarks always been here? He asked, rubbing his belly and feeling his new tiger stripes.
Oh my god, my chest! I have tits! He grabbed one of his fleshy breasts, running his fingers over his soft nipples, which had also grown in his carelessness.
He turned to his side and examined closer. My ass is fat too! I actually have an ass! He grabbed a handful of ass fat, which he swore couldn’t have been there a few weeks ago when he bought these jeans.
Defeated, he texted his mother saying he was throwing up and it wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. He threw out the remains of his clothes and put on a pair of boxers, which were also tight on his chubby thighs.
He sat on the couch and proceeded to eat last night’s leftover pizza and found that his newly acquired belly made a nice place to sit his phone while he ate.
Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised about his weight. He had been eating like shit for a while now and had given up his walks when work became too demanding. He rubbed his belly, feeling the warm lard between his fingers.
Absent mindedly, he reached for another piece of pizza.
Well, I already did it to myself. Why not keep going?
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The Stages of Male Weight Gain
Stage 0: Start point.
This is the start point. Your lowest weight or “fightin’ weight”. Almost no one is consistently at this point and if they are it won’t be for very long. Also, note that Stage 0 can change at any point. Example: Your stage 0 could be 140 pounds when you were sixteen, but now that you are in your mid twenties, your new Stage 0 could be 155 pounds. Still confused? Don’t worry I’ll explain further on.
Stage 1: The first 10 lbs…
Everyone, gainers and non-gainers, go through this stage shown in the next 2 pics below at least once in their lives. It is also the most important stage because it is technically a safe zone where you are not defined as “fat” but you very well could be in the near future. Let me explain, one of two things is going to happen. The first is one day you are going to take your shirt off and realize you have lost some muscle tone. Parts of your body are softer than they once were; you might even have a little belly depending on your size. You realize that you haven’t been eating well recently and it is very probable that you have put on weight, therefore it is time to kick bad habits, hit the gym, and get in shape. Either this happens or the alternative happens. You gain ten pounds, don’t really notice it and continue on to the next stage.
Stage 2: The 15/20 lb mark… the “Freshman 15”.
This is a stage that is common amongst most people, but not everyone. Most people that do hit this stage do it in college, hence the “Freshman 15”. At this point it will be apparent that you have gained a little weight. Granted it’s not a lot in retrospect, but it is enough to make your jeans a little tighter, or to have a little belly, or to appear fuller in the face. Exceeding this stage takes an interesting personality because it means you are in extreme denial (which you may very well be) or you simply don’t care. There is also the possibility that you have achieved a new Stage 0. Maybe you’ve kept that “Freshman 15” for four years now. You never were able to shake it off, so you now accept that it’s going to be there forever and you’re not going to have the same body you had in high school. Or maybe you’ve had that paunch for a while now to a point where you don’t even recognize it as being anything but the norm. If you haven’t hit the gym at this point, you could easily achieve Stage 3.
Stage 3: The first 30 lbs…
This is a corner stone in the gainer world. Depending on your size it is usually the line you cross to becoming overweight, by definition “fat”. If you have gained thirty pounds you will not be able to hide it. Baggy clothes and sucking in your gut are not going to hide the fact that you have let yourself go a bit in the past few months. Even the people in the deepest denial with have to face the truth when they can’t button up their pants. This point is when some people start to feel bad about themselves and attempt to lose the weight. Others, however, go to the store, buy new clothes, and just become the butt of everyone’s jokes. Assuming you haven’t broken old habits at this point you are well on your way to stage 4.
Stage 4: 50-100
This is the most broad stage because people who fall into this category are the “fat guy” personalities. People who eat because it gives them joy. The result from your love of donuts is a prominent belly (if you’ve gained fifty pounds or more it is biologically impossible to not have one), love handles (I’ve haven’t gained more than ten pounds in my life and I still have ‘em), chunky legs (not my thing “butt” whatever), and maybe even features like the double chin or man boobs! If you are at this stage you are definitely overweight or maybe even obese. Your Stage 0 has also probably changed to ten or fifteen pounds heavier than it was before, so if you do try to lose weight you’ll be satisfied at your new Stage 0.
Stage 5: 100+
Congratulations! You are a minority! Most people stop when they’ve gained over a hundred pounds (unless you are a gainer of course). It takes a very strong level of denial coupled with a love for Italian food in order to get to this stage. Your Stage 0 could be all over the map at this point because dropping that weight is not going to be an easy task.
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