chubsixtysix
Well-Known Member
~BHM, Eating, ~~WG - A man is conflicted about his partner who encourages him to overindulge
Mark parked his Land Rover in the furthest spot in the garage and entered the house quietly. He felt like an ass doing it. He was 28 years old and had a mutual agreement with his parents about his independence and privacy. They had not pried into his night life in years, but he just didnt want to run into anyone tonight. Luckily, skills learned as a rebellious teen served him well and he was able to get up to his suite without bumping into so much as the new upstairs maid.
Entering his den, Mark turned on the lights and set the sound system to play a soothing mix of acoustic rock. He walked through to his bedroom, undressed in his walk-through closet and continued on into his bathroom, where he turned the shower on and waited for hot water.
As he waited, he glanced over at his reflection in mirror that covered the entire opposite wall. He gave his reflection a wry smirk, having not quite decided how he felt about what he saw.
He could only try to be objective about what he saw. 28 year old Mark Fairbanks Worthington, IV, was blond, blue eyed, 61 tall and weighed 227 pounds as of this morning. Probably more, considering how much he had eaten on his date with Jordan tonight.
He knew he wasnt ugly. For years, people had constantly commented about his good looks and suggested that he should model. He always tried to be gracious about it, but there was no way in hell any one would permit the Worthington heir to lower himself to modeling.
Mark snorted. Those you should model comments had slowed down a lot in the last couple of years. Ever since he had taken the position of V.P. of Development at Worthington Industries, hed been putting on weight. Hed gone from 175 pounds to 227 pounds in less than three years. It had gone on gradually for the most part, but the last 12 pounds had piled on quickly in the month or so he had been dating Jordan.
Turning this way and that in the mirror, he measured the plump layer on top of his pecs, the protruding spread of his stomach, and the all-over softness that covered his formerly buff body.
Grimacing, he turned away and stepped into the hot shower.
Soaping up his body, he tried to dismiss his unpleasant body image. He had just had an amazing night out with his lover, Jordan. Yes, decided Mark, hed much rather think about his night with Jordan than his chubby body.
They had met at their favorite bar over by the University. While enjoying drinks and snacks on the deck overlooking the city park, Jordan had regaled him with a hysterical story about a mix-up in the University History Department, where Jordan worked as a junior professor. At sunset, they had walked across the park to the Black Jack Dinner Theater to see a Neil Simon comedy and eat the Black Jacks superb prime rib dinner. The play had been funny, of course, but Mark had enjoyed the dinner far more. As a bonus, Jordan couldnt finish and Mark ended up with most of a second dinner. He had definitely overindulged, but the prime rib had been too good to resist. He had eaten the modest bread pudding the Theater served, but still could not resist when Jordan begged to stop at the Ben & Jerrys parlor on the way home. Jordan had ordered a single scoop cone of Pfish Phood, while Mark had once again displayed his bovine characteristics by ordering a four-scoop, four-sauce sundae. And eating every delicious bite.
Funny, realized Mark, thinking about his pleasurable night with Jordan ultimately brought him in a full circle straight back to his chubby body. Ben & Jerry's had been over two hours ago and Marks stomach still felt overfull. Turning to face the shower spray, he rinsed off and let the warm spray sooth his stomach. He rubbed the hard little lump of food still in his stomach waiting to digest and thought about how Jordan had rubbed his belly just an hour ago.
He and Jordan had been flirting and sharing discreet little touches all night. By the time they stopped in at Jordans loft, they barely made it to the bedroom before they were tearing each others clothes off and making love like wild things.
Encouraging his eating and complimenting his appearance, Jordan was never shy about admiring Marks chubbiness. Tonight was no exception. After encouraging Marks eating all night, Jordan had practically worshiped his body as they undressed, caressing and fondling him all over. Jordan had paid particular attention to Marks bloated stomach and praised his good appetite. Mark was aroused just thinking back on it, but he was also embarrassed. He was uncomfortable with the idea that he was already chubby enough to attract the attention of a fat admirer like Jordan.
Jordan was terrific in every way personable, brilliant, sexy as hell and Mark was already thinking of a long term future despite the fact that they had only met a month ago. Yet, Mark wasnt sure he could commit to someone whose heart's desire was to feed and encourage him so that he grew beyond the realm of chubby.
Finally getting out of the shower, Mark dried himself off and pulled on a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms. Slipping under the covers, Mark wondered miserably what would happen if he said no to Jordan. As unacceptable as losing Jordan would be, Mark was equally boggled by the probable outcome of anything long term. Jordan loved to feed Mark and god only knew how much Mark enjoyed it. He just wasnt sure he was willing to gain that kind of weight.
Punching his pillow in frustration, Mark rolled over and mulled over the possibilities until he fell asleep.
Mark sat alone at the end of the long table in the opulent Worthington dining room. Tapping his fingers with impatience, he tried to ignore his raw, biting hunger. Worthingtons do not drool in anticipation of a meal, he reminded himself.
An intriguing scent tickled his nose. Succulent, sweet, mouth-watering, the scent overwhelmed his senses, peaking every olfactory nerve, every taste bud. Holy cow, that smells delicious! he exclaimed. This is torture.
Inhaling deeply, he tried to place the smell, but could not. So familiar. So enticing. It was the drippings from a brazed roast, baking cookies, french fries, sizzling bacon. It was something altogether new and wonderful.
A Worthington or not, Marks mouth watered. Sitting up straighter, he swallowed and reminded himself to be patient. As patient as he might be inside his head, however, his stomach wrenched agonizingly, as if wrung and twisted by a giant fist.
Hoping to relieve the pain, he pressed his hands just below his sternum but was startled when he bumped into strange terrain. Looking down, he saw chubby hands rub firm circles on the top of a bulbous belly that was as prominent as it was wide. That couldnt be his, could it?
Only the top of his snug dress shirt was fastened; the unbuttoned remainder flowed freely, framing a large pale triangle of belly that absolutely popped out from the shirt. He tried desperately to pull his shirt together to button it, but wasnt even close.
He felt himself flush as he worried that one of his parents might walk in to see him in this undignified position. How could he ever explain himself to either of them? They would be absolutely appalled that he let himself go like this. How many times had he been told, Worthingtons are poised, beautiful paragons of society. Worthingtons are never poorly dressed, disheveled, dirty, ugly, fat, uncouth or emotional. We leave those disgusting signs of weakness for lesser families.
How could he have let himself get so fat?? This wasnt right, was it? Mark felt an odd sense of déjà vu looking down at his bulky middle. It was alien, yet almost familiar. He knew he should be alarmed, but he really wasnt. Instead, he was curious in a detached sort of way.
Taking a deep breath, Mark felt the belly pull and rise with his chest. He tried to suck it in, but succeeded only in aggravating his hunger pangs. Jesus, that hurt. Where on earth was the food?
Trying to ease his discomfort, he squirmed and shifted position. It didnt ease the pain, but he was intrigued by the friction between his heavy belly and his thighs. Speaking of which, his view of his thighs was blocked. He could only see his knees! Whimper.
Exploring, he ran his hands in larger circles, moving them down the outward curve on the front, where he found one of the sources of his pain. His trousers and belt tightly constrained the bottom few inches of his belly. His belt cut harshly into the soft flesh that flowed out over the top of it. He fumbled with the short end of the belt it must have been on its last notch and winced at the added pain he caused himself when he pulled the belt tight enough so that the buckle could release. After he unhooked and unzipped his trousers, Marks belly was freed. His pain eased immediately as his waist expanded, allowing his belly to push forward. Thank God.
Inside, his stomach continued its sharp complaints. Rubbing his belly soothingly, Mark thought the outside felt soft and smooth and just a little bit fuzzy. His massage loosened overstretched muscles and turned discomfort to pleasure. Like stroking the soft fur of a cat, there was pleasure both in the stroking and in being stroked. This was much, much better, however, because Mark enjoyed the stroking and being stroked, both.
Mark closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his pleasurable stroking, while ignoring his hunger pains.
Increasing food smells and faint noise caught his attention. Eyes open, Mark tried to sit up straighter, but hit resistance from the bottom of his stomach, which did not slide forward on his thighs. Issuing an unmanly squeak of dismay, he slid both hands under his belly and lifted it while he sat up properly.
A veritable parade of servants began trotting into the dining room. Each walked up to him to present their dish with a flourish before placing it on the table and returning to the kitchen for another. Soon, there were more dishes in front of him than he thought he could possibly eat. There were several different steaks, lobster, crab cakes, chicken cordon bleu, a huge chunk of lasagna, a fettuccine dish with sausage and broccoli, and a monster bacon and cheese burger to name a few.
He grabbed the nearest steak, which happened to be a butterflied fillet minion with a pepper cream sauce, a twice baked potato with bacon, cheddar and cream cheese, and grilled vegetables. The fillet cut like butter and was as moist and delicious as it smelled. The sauce was just the right spicy compliment and he mopped up as much sauce as he could with every bite. Switching off to the potato, he found it was just as perfectly prepared as the steak. He switched off between them, sometimes heaping potato on top of a bite of steak. Halfway through, he tried the vegetables mixed squash and zucchini and decided that their lighter taste was a nice trade off with the steak and potatoes. Switching and mixing the tastes, he quickly scraped the plate clean.
He paused for a sip of wine and ended up draining the glass. Next, he reached for the lasagna, a small pitcher of sauce and a basket with bread and butter. It was his favorite lasagna, their cook prepared it with loose sausage instead of ground beef. It was perfect, as always. Adding sauce liberally, Mark happily alternated buttered bread with lasagna and proud to see that he finished the pasta, bread and sauce without one running out first.
Looking down, he saw that he had dripped a spoonful of tomato sauce down his bare belly. Not even considering a napkin, he drew his finger up the spill and brought the sauce to his mouth. Savoring the taste as he sucked the sauce off of his finger, Mark smiled. He wouldnt want to waste even that single drop.
Faced with the tempting array of his favorite foods and still hungry, Mark entirely forgot his earlier worries about growing a huge belly. He could think of nothing beyond his desire to eat and enjoy every bit of the food laid before him.
He continued to make his way through each of the plates, playing his favorite food game: compare and contrast. He thought about descriptions as he ate, as if he were writing newspaper reviews of them all. It was a game he had played since turned ten and his parents allowed him to dine with the adults. Knowing that children were to be seen but not heard, Mark amused himself through long formal dinners with his silent reviews.
Relying heavily on superlatives like superb and magnificent, Mark had worked through every plate. Setting aside the lettuce covered crab cake plate, he considered his stomach for the first time since the food had arrived. He felt full, but not horribly full. Looking down, he saw that his already prominent belly had expanded, now extending higher and further out. He could not lean forward because his belly pressed up to the table. He leaned back instead, placed his hands on his stomach, and found that it was now rock hard in the middle.
This was nothing like his little chubby belly. There was no possibility of sucking this gut in. It had long since escaped the confines of abdominal muscles and extended itself freely. Now, chock full of food, it was encouraged, validated; it pressed forward with pride.
Leaning back a bit, he felt his penis shift up against the bottom of his belly and realized he was hard. Unable to reach around his massive stomach, he lifted with his left hand so that he could reach under with his right to grip his hard, fat, sweaty cock. This small attention only made his cock more desperate and he needed to move.
After pushing his chair back from the table, he scooted his bum forward, leaned back and spread his legs. He returned to the soothing, soft sensuality of rubbing his belly with his left hand while his skillful right hand grip pulled sweat-slick skin in a familiar rhythm. He added another brilliant sensation with a little side-and-up twist to his pull so that his sensitive head rubbed his underbelly. Closing his eyes, he experienced the mix of sensations: hot vivid thrusting, the warm full pressure inside is stomach, echoes of the sumptuous tastes and smells, swirling velvet cat, rubbing, constricting, relaxing. Wanting release. Wanting more than possible.
He sped up his movements, frustrated that his actions lacked grace. Sweaty and breathless with effort, his wrist began to ache and stacked a new desperation to finish on top of his original desire. Needing it immediately, he gripped harder, pressed deeper, bit his lip sharply. The ultimate surge came in a white hot buzzing searing sharp gentle moment that drew too much and too long before finally collapsing.
Finally still, he could not even breathe.
Drawing in a long shuddering breath, Mark opened his eyes to find himself propped on pillows in his own bed. His right hand was stuck in his pajamas and loosely wrapped around his cum coated cock, while his left hand held the comfortable roll around his middle. Squeezing and pressing kindled echoes of pleasure. He closed his eyes, trying to recall.
Oh.
He opened his eyes and considered the modest roll around his middle. Jordan loved his pudge and wanted it to grow. Mark had been tolerating that lapse in judgment because he did so enjoy Jordan and the decadent pleasures they shared. So far, Mark had not had the same enthusiasm.
Sliding his free hand across the roll, he found a solid handful. It was pleasantly solid squeezable, but just firm enough. Nicely shaped, round and smooth. He stuck his finger in his belly button, nearly a finger deep, and found an unexpected tickle spot. Running his hand up his torso to his chest, he mulled over the possibility that the thin layer of flesh that now hid his ribs held tremendous potential. His soft, hairless pecs were beginning to peak like those of a young girl.
Chuckling at a memory of being twelve and spying a little neighbor's breasts, he found reached over for a tissue and cleaned himself off.
Now with both hands, he held the whole of his roll and jiggled it a bit, evoking a waive of warm pleasure. Mmmm. He remembered the hefty, hearty feel of his broad round dream stomach.
And then it hit him.
He loved this.
He loved being fed and indulged.
He loved the eating and the stuffing.
He loved the growing and the soft bulk.
And he wanted more.
AND THEN IT HIT HIM
By Chubsixtysix
By Chubsixtysix
Mark parked his Land Rover in the furthest spot in the garage and entered the house quietly. He felt like an ass doing it. He was 28 years old and had a mutual agreement with his parents about his independence and privacy. They had not pried into his night life in years, but he just didnt want to run into anyone tonight. Luckily, skills learned as a rebellious teen served him well and he was able to get up to his suite without bumping into so much as the new upstairs maid.
Entering his den, Mark turned on the lights and set the sound system to play a soothing mix of acoustic rock. He walked through to his bedroom, undressed in his walk-through closet and continued on into his bathroom, where he turned the shower on and waited for hot water.
As he waited, he glanced over at his reflection in mirror that covered the entire opposite wall. He gave his reflection a wry smirk, having not quite decided how he felt about what he saw.
He could only try to be objective about what he saw. 28 year old Mark Fairbanks Worthington, IV, was blond, blue eyed, 61 tall and weighed 227 pounds as of this morning. Probably more, considering how much he had eaten on his date with Jordan tonight.
He knew he wasnt ugly. For years, people had constantly commented about his good looks and suggested that he should model. He always tried to be gracious about it, but there was no way in hell any one would permit the Worthington heir to lower himself to modeling.
Mark snorted. Those you should model comments had slowed down a lot in the last couple of years. Ever since he had taken the position of V.P. of Development at Worthington Industries, hed been putting on weight. Hed gone from 175 pounds to 227 pounds in less than three years. It had gone on gradually for the most part, but the last 12 pounds had piled on quickly in the month or so he had been dating Jordan.
Turning this way and that in the mirror, he measured the plump layer on top of his pecs, the protruding spread of his stomach, and the all-over softness that covered his formerly buff body.
Grimacing, he turned away and stepped into the hot shower.
Soaping up his body, he tried to dismiss his unpleasant body image. He had just had an amazing night out with his lover, Jordan. Yes, decided Mark, hed much rather think about his night with Jordan than his chubby body.
They had met at their favorite bar over by the University. While enjoying drinks and snacks on the deck overlooking the city park, Jordan had regaled him with a hysterical story about a mix-up in the University History Department, where Jordan worked as a junior professor. At sunset, they had walked across the park to the Black Jack Dinner Theater to see a Neil Simon comedy and eat the Black Jacks superb prime rib dinner. The play had been funny, of course, but Mark had enjoyed the dinner far more. As a bonus, Jordan couldnt finish and Mark ended up with most of a second dinner. He had definitely overindulged, but the prime rib had been too good to resist. He had eaten the modest bread pudding the Theater served, but still could not resist when Jordan begged to stop at the Ben & Jerrys parlor on the way home. Jordan had ordered a single scoop cone of Pfish Phood, while Mark had once again displayed his bovine characteristics by ordering a four-scoop, four-sauce sundae. And eating every delicious bite.
Funny, realized Mark, thinking about his pleasurable night with Jordan ultimately brought him in a full circle straight back to his chubby body. Ben & Jerry's had been over two hours ago and Marks stomach still felt overfull. Turning to face the shower spray, he rinsed off and let the warm spray sooth his stomach. He rubbed the hard little lump of food still in his stomach waiting to digest and thought about how Jordan had rubbed his belly just an hour ago.
He and Jordan had been flirting and sharing discreet little touches all night. By the time they stopped in at Jordans loft, they barely made it to the bedroom before they were tearing each others clothes off and making love like wild things.
Encouraging his eating and complimenting his appearance, Jordan was never shy about admiring Marks chubbiness. Tonight was no exception. After encouraging Marks eating all night, Jordan had practically worshiped his body as they undressed, caressing and fondling him all over. Jordan had paid particular attention to Marks bloated stomach and praised his good appetite. Mark was aroused just thinking back on it, but he was also embarrassed. He was uncomfortable with the idea that he was already chubby enough to attract the attention of a fat admirer like Jordan.
Jordan was terrific in every way personable, brilliant, sexy as hell and Mark was already thinking of a long term future despite the fact that they had only met a month ago. Yet, Mark wasnt sure he could commit to someone whose heart's desire was to feed and encourage him so that he grew beyond the realm of chubby.
Finally getting out of the shower, Mark dried himself off and pulled on a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms. Slipping under the covers, Mark wondered miserably what would happen if he said no to Jordan. As unacceptable as losing Jordan would be, Mark was equally boggled by the probable outcome of anything long term. Jordan loved to feed Mark and god only knew how much Mark enjoyed it. He just wasnt sure he was willing to gain that kind of weight.
Punching his pillow in frustration, Mark rolled over and mulled over the possibilities until he fell asleep.
Mark sat alone at the end of the long table in the opulent Worthington dining room. Tapping his fingers with impatience, he tried to ignore his raw, biting hunger. Worthingtons do not drool in anticipation of a meal, he reminded himself.
An intriguing scent tickled his nose. Succulent, sweet, mouth-watering, the scent overwhelmed his senses, peaking every olfactory nerve, every taste bud. Holy cow, that smells delicious! he exclaimed. This is torture.
Inhaling deeply, he tried to place the smell, but could not. So familiar. So enticing. It was the drippings from a brazed roast, baking cookies, french fries, sizzling bacon. It was something altogether new and wonderful.
A Worthington or not, Marks mouth watered. Sitting up straighter, he swallowed and reminded himself to be patient. As patient as he might be inside his head, however, his stomach wrenched agonizingly, as if wrung and twisted by a giant fist.
Hoping to relieve the pain, he pressed his hands just below his sternum but was startled when he bumped into strange terrain. Looking down, he saw chubby hands rub firm circles on the top of a bulbous belly that was as prominent as it was wide. That couldnt be his, could it?
Only the top of his snug dress shirt was fastened; the unbuttoned remainder flowed freely, framing a large pale triangle of belly that absolutely popped out from the shirt. He tried desperately to pull his shirt together to button it, but wasnt even close.
He felt himself flush as he worried that one of his parents might walk in to see him in this undignified position. How could he ever explain himself to either of them? They would be absolutely appalled that he let himself go like this. How many times had he been told, Worthingtons are poised, beautiful paragons of society. Worthingtons are never poorly dressed, disheveled, dirty, ugly, fat, uncouth or emotional. We leave those disgusting signs of weakness for lesser families.
How could he have let himself get so fat?? This wasnt right, was it? Mark felt an odd sense of déjà vu looking down at his bulky middle. It was alien, yet almost familiar. He knew he should be alarmed, but he really wasnt. Instead, he was curious in a detached sort of way.
Taking a deep breath, Mark felt the belly pull and rise with his chest. He tried to suck it in, but succeeded only in aggravating his hunger pangs. Jesus, that hurt. Where on earth was the food?
Trying to ease his discomfort, he squirmed and shifted position. It didnt ease the pain, but he was intrigued by the friction between his heavy belly and his thighs. Speaking of which, his view of his thighs was blocked. He could only see his knees! Whimper.
Exploring, he ran his hands in larger circles, moving them down the outward curve on the front, where he found one of the sources of his pain. His trousers and belt tightly constrained the bottom few inches of his belly. His belt cut harshly into the soft flesh that flowed out over the top of it. He fumbled with the short end of the belt it must have been on its last notch and winced at the added pain he caused himself when he pulled the belt tight enough so that the buckle could release. After he unhooked and unzipped his trousers, Marks belly was freed. His pain eased immediately as his waist expanded, allowing his belly to push forward. Thank God.
Inside, his stomach continued its sharp complaints. Rubbing his belly soothingly, Mark thought the outside felt soft and smooth and just a little bit fuzzy. His massage loosened overstretched muscles and turned discomfort to pleasure. Like stroking the soft fur of a cat, there was pleasure both in the stroking and in being stroked. This was much, much better, however, because Mark enjoyed the stroking and being stroked, both.
Mark closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his pleasurable stroking, while ignoring his hunger pains.
Increasing food smells and faint noise caught his attention. Eyes open, Mark tried to sit up straighter, but hit resistance from the bottom of his stomach, which did not slide forward on his thighs. Issuing an unmanly squeak of dismay, he slid both hands under his belly and lifted it while he sat up properly.
A veritable parade of servants began trotting into the dining room. Each walked up to him to present their dish with a flourish before placing it on the table and returning to the kitchen for another. Soon, there were more dishes in front of him than he thought he could possibly eat. There were several different steaks, lobster, crab cakes, chicken cordon bleu, a huge chunk of lasagna, a fettuccine dish with sausage and broccoli, and a monster bacon and cheese burger to name a few.
He grabbed the nearest steak, which happened to be a butterflied fillet minion with a pepper cream sauce, a twice baked potato with bacon, cheddar and cream cheese, and grilled vegetables. The fillet cut like butter and was as moist and delicious as it smelled. The sauce was just the right spicy compliment and he mopped up as much sauce as he could with every bite. Switching off to the potato, he found it was just as perfectly prepared as the steak. He switched off between them, sometimes heaping potato on top of a bite of steak. Halfway through, he tried the vegetables mixed squash and zucchini and decided that their lighter taste was a nice trade off with the steak and potatoes. Switching and mixing the tastes, he quickly scraped the plate clean.
He paused for a sip of wine and ended up draining the glass. Next, he reached for the lasagna, a small pitcher of sauce and a basket with bread and butter. It was his favorite lasagna, their cook prepared it with loose sausage instead of ground beef. It was perfect, as always. Adding sauce liberally, Mark happily alternated buttered bread with lasagna and proud to see that he finished the pasta, bread and sauce without one running out first.
Looking down, he saw that he had dripped a spoonful of tomato sauce down his bare belly. Not even considering a napkin, he drew his finger up the spill and brought the sauce to his mouth. Savoring the taste as he sucked the sauce off of his finger, Mark smiled. He wouldnt want to waste even that single drop.
Faced with the tempting array of his favorite foods and still hungry, Mark entirely forgot his earlier worries about growing a huge belly. He could think of nothing beyond his desire to eat and enjoy every bit of the food laid before him.
He continued to make his way through each of the plates, playing his favorite food game: compare and contrast. He thought about descriptions as he ate, as if he were writing newspaper reviews of them all. It was a game he had played since turned ten and his parents allowed him to dine with the adults. Knowing that children were to be seen but not heard, Mark amused himself through long formal dinners with his silent reviews.
Relying heavily on superlatives like superb and magnificent, Mark had worked through every plate. Setting aside the lettuce covered crab cake plate, he considered his stomach for the first time since the food had arrived. He felt full, but not horribly full. Looking down, he saw that his already prominent belly had expanded, now extending higher and further out. He could not lean forward because his belly pressed up to the table. He leaned back instead, placed his hands on his stomach, and found that it was now rock hard in the middle.
This was nothing like his little chubby belly. There was no possibility of sucking this gut in. It had long since escaped the confines of abdominal muscles and extended itself freely. Now, chock full of food, it was encouraged, validated; it pressed forward with pride.
Leaning back a bit, he felt his penis shift up against the bottom of his belly and realized he was hard. Unable to reach around his massive stomach, he lifted with his left hand so that he could reach under with his right to grip his hard, fat, sweaty cock. This small attention only made his cock more desperate and he needed to move.
After pushing his chair back from the table, he scooted his bum forward, leaned back and spread his legs. He returned to the soothing, soft sensuality of rubbing his belly with his left hand while his skillful right hand grip pulled sweat-slick skin in a familiar rhythm. He added another brilliant sensation with a little side-and-up twist to his pull so that his sensitive head rubbed his underbelly. Closing his eyes, he experienced the mix of sensations: hot vivid thrusting, the warm full pressure inside is stomach, echoes of the sumptuous tastes and smells, swirling velvet cat, rubbing, constricting, relaxing. Wanting release. Wanting more than possible.
He sped up his movements, frustrated that his actions lacked grace. Sweaty and breathless with effort, his wrist began to ache and stacked a new desperation to finish on top of his original desire. Needing it immediately, he gripped harder, pressed deeper, bit his lip sharply. The ultimate surge came in a white hot buzzing searing sharp gentle moment that drew too much and too long before finally collapsing.
Finally still, he could not even breathe.
Drawing in a long shuddering breath, Mark opened his eyes to find himself propped on pillows in his own bed. His right hand was stuck in his pajamas and loosely wrapped around his cum coated cock, while his left hand held the comfortable roll around his middle. Squeezing and pressing kindled echoes of pleasure. He closed his eyes, trying to recall.
Oh.
He opened his eyes and considered the modest roll around his middle. Jordan loved his pudge and wanted it to grow. Mark had been tolerating that lapse in judgment because he did so enjoy Jordan and the decadent pleasures they shared. So far, Mark had not had the same enthusiasm.
Sliding his free hand across the roll, he found a solid handful. It was pleasantly solid squeezable, but just firm enough. Nicely shaped, round and smooth. He stuck his finger in his belly button, nearly a finger deep, and found an unexpected tickle spot. Running his hand up his torso to his chest, he mulled over the possibility that the thin layer of flesh that now hid his ribs held tremendous potential. His soft, hairless pecs were beginning to peak like those of a young girl.
Chuckling at a memory of being twelve and spying a little neighbor's breasts, he found reached over for a tissue and cleaned himself off.
Now with both hands, he held the whole of his roll and jiggled it a bit, evoking a waive of warm pleasure. Mmmm. He remembered the hefty, hearty feel of his broad round dream stomach.
And then it hit him.
He loved this.
He loved being fed and indulged.
He loved the eating and the stuffing.
He loved the growing and the soft bulk.
And he wanted more.
~The End~
