Mason Megalos had been my best friend for over a
decade when everything fell apart. I still hadn’t gotten over how suddenly we went
our separate ways. Like many a sexually confused adolescent, I had fallen in
love with my best friend. We were both boys, and I had come to realize my love
for him was one of the worst things that could have ever happened. I
heard how other guys talked. I knew that liking Mason wasn’t something I could act
on.
We’d been about a month into our freshman year when I
felt him slipping away from me. He had joined the football team and started
hanging out with a bunch of his misogynistic, homophobic, and slightly racist
teammates. Most people would say these guys were harmless, but I knew that the
longer Mason hung around them, the more influence they’d have over his ideologies.
He was being brainwashed! I had to win him back over from the dark side.
Mason wasn’t a hateful person, and I was determined to
come out to him before it was too late. I trusted him more than anybody in the
whole world; I genuinely believed with every fiber of my being that we’d be
able to work through my teeny-tiny crush on him (okay, so maybe it
wasn’t the teeniest or the tiniest, and I was a hundred percent
head-over-heels in love with him, but I digress). I figured he’d reject me
amiably and we could continue our friendship, but unforeseen circumstances had prohibited
my confession indefinitely.
We’d been at my house. I had been avoiding coming out
to him, as there was always something stopping me. The reasons were always
stupid, like the fact there was an X-Men movie marathon coming on TV and
we just had to watch it together. Like many high school aged boys, Mason
sometimes referred to stuff as gay, in reference to things he considered stupid
or slightly feminine. It had gotten way worse since he’d been hanging around
his new friends. At one point he said it about some commercial on the TV. I
felt that anxious feeling I often got, but this time I didn’t let it stop me.
“Mason, I’m gay,” I’d told him. I blurted it
out, really. It wasn’t my finest moment; it wasn’t what I’d practiced a million
times in the bathroom mirror. He looked at me for a while, assessing me, and
then he got up and left. With no words of encouragement or disapproval.
October 11, 2008 would forever be engrained in my mind
as the day Mason walked out of my life and never looked back. I’d really thought
he was different. I’d really thought that I could tell him about my authentic
self. I had never even got to mention the fact that I had a crush on him, which
was probably for the best. He hadn’t been the person I thought he was.
If losing Mason as a friend wasn’t bad enough, I was
now still dealing with the repercussions of coming out. It had been three
years since then.
Yes, three years of Mason’s new friend group taking
every possible opportunity to terrorize me for being gay. They’d beat me up
from time to time, throw slurs at me, or make homophobic jokes knowing there
was nothing I could do or say to stop them. I didn’t want to make excuses for Mason,
because the fact he had been such a terrible friend was inexcusable, but he
never directly harassed me like his underlings; he just sort of had
dominion over them, which was slightly less awful. Seriously, I think it was
worth something that he never beat me up or said anything mean to me (at least
not to my face). It was easier to handle his passive attitude in regard to my
situation.
Those dumb jocks and future gas station attendants all
looked to Mason for approval. He’d become their God—the coolest, the most
handsome, the almighty. I bet if he stood up for me at least once, my days at school
would go a lot smoother. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t let go of my
idealized version of him. I told myself he didn’t mean what he did or said. I
told myself that there was still good in him. Even though it killed me to hear
him laugh when his friends called me a fag or a homo, I believed Mason didn’t
really think I was disgusting.
I still thought he was attractive. It wasn’t like I
was blind. We might not have been best friends anymore, but I lusted after him
just the same as I had before. Mason had an olive complexion and it always
seemed like he was glowing, like he was an angel or something. Mason’s parents
were Greek, having moved to America before he was born. He had this curly brown
hair that he took excellent care of now that he was older (when we were younger
it was always messy). His eyes were green. His lips were full. He had the
most beautiful smile. It was almost the most attractive thing about him.
The most attractive thing about Mason was his butt. He
had the best ass I’d ever seen. It’s what I always looked at when I could take
a clandestine glance. I had looked at his butt so frequently, I could probably
pick it out of a police lineup.
“Yes Officer,” I’d say. “Butt number three is Mason’s.
The sheer size of the cheeks makes it obvious, and the dimples on his lower
back are also a dead giveaway.”
He was taller than me, and he definitely had to be
over six feet by now. I was 5’9” and weighed only about 160 pounds. Mason on
the other hand had really buffed up in our years distanced from one another; I
would have to guess he was around 200 pounds. He’d been a pudgy kid, but when
he joined the football team freshman year, they worked all of his extra weight
into muscle. Seeing him change so much really stung, not having gotten the
chance to change along with him.
I had to continuously remind myself that none
of these things mattered anymore. He could be extraordinarily hot with the best
ass in the entire country, but that didn’t change the fact that he hated me for
something I couldn’t control. He abandoned a valuable friendship and allowed
others to belittle me. My mom had told me growing up, in a somewhat blunt way
I’d grown used to, “Not everybody is your friend. Sometimes people can surprise
you in the worst ways possible.” I never, and I mean never, thought my mother’s
pessimistic wisdom would apply to my relationship with Mason.
We were about two months into senior year, and today
in English IV, the last class of the day, I noticed Mason talking to a troll
named Bret Phelps. This guy was possibly the worst of the group. The others
just called me names, having grown tired of wasting energy beating me up, but
he felt compelled to hunt me down and physically assault me every other day. I
made my way to my locker as quickly as I could and made a mad dash for my bike.
Today I was going to make it.
I was trying to be positive, which wasn’t always easy.
It was a quality I admired in others, so I tried my best to emulate that
positivity. I was determined to hold my head up high and to be optimistic. I
knew things would one day get better, even if I had to put up with Mason’s
posse until graduation.
Today I wasn’t going to get punched anywhere on
my body.
I approached the bike rack quickly, wanting to make it
off campus unscathed. The closer I got to where the bikes were housed, the more
noticeable was the form of a guy leaning casually on an adjoining pillar.
It was Bret. Damn.
He had to have forgone stopping at his locker. He’d
come directly here after the bell rang to wait for me. He must have really been
in a sour mood if he wanted to catch me so badly.
I had to be strong. Even if I wanted to whine and cry
and beg for him to leave me alone, I couldn’t. I refused to give him or any of
his asshole friends the satisfaction of breaking me down. I was immune to this.
I just had to accept my beating and he’d move on. At first, I fought hard every
single time, but he’d still pummel me. That was when I came to realize that if
I didn’t show emotion, he’d give me a swift punch in the gut and go about his
day. I wasn’t going to give the sadist the pleasure he oh so desired. It wasn’t
fun fighting someone who didn’t react.
“Hello Oliver,” he said, smiling. His front tooth was slightly
chipped, and I hoped it was from someone punching him in the mouth. “You were
like the first one out class. I hope you didn’t think you were going to miss me
today.” He was shorter than Mason but taller than I was. He was a stocky guy,
and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be willing to admit that he was
almost-maybe-possibly attractive.
“Hey Bret,” I said in an even tone, keeping my head
down, not making eye contact. “I really have to get going.”
“This isn’t going to take long.” He walked towards me.
I closed my eyes and tensed my ab muscles waiting for him to sock me in the
stomach.
“I’ll handle him today.” It was Mason’s voice. I
opened my eyes slowly, letting out a deep breath and relaxing my abs. Was he
going to start beating me up too? I didn’t think I could handle it if he decided
he was so disgusted by me that he had to resort to physical violence.
“Yeah, okay Mason,” Bret said, reverting to his
beta-male status. “You’ve got to make sure you get him in the gut, just like he
likes it.” With that, Bret walked off, glad to be told what to do—but not
before punching me in the arm as hard as he could.
“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my arm as I made my way over
to my bike. I kneeled down and began putting in the combo for my bike lock.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, like he’d done me the
hugest favor. I looked up at him from the ground, and he looked like a giant. I
felt really nostalgic looking up at him. Mason used to fight people for saying
that I was gay. He used to defend my honor like I was a high society lady in a
Victorian romance novel. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a regular human
being who made stupid human being decisions. I had to stop romanticizing the
present with memories of the past.
I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to talk to him
anymore. Why was he still standing there? I wanted him to leave so I wouldn’t
have to feel so on edge.
“You want a ride home?” he asked.
Was he being for real? He only ever talked to me in
class, and that was if it was mandated by the teacher. Now he was
offering me a ride home? I wanted to say something biting and sarcastic, but
nothing good would come from it. That wasn’t who I was or who I wanted to be. I
did my best to push through the bitter feelings.
“No,” I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to be.
I didn’t want to sound upset or anything, but I was struggling to temper out my
emotions. “I have my bike.” This was the first time in a long time I was alone
with him. It made me think of that day in October three years ago when
everything changed. I hated how this was forcing me to recollect our final
moments together as best friends.
“We can put it in the back,” he said matter-of-factly.
I knew he was talking about his Jeep, but I still pictured his ass.
I was silent again, and he just smiled at me, like he
knew I was going to accept his offer. This was how things had been in elementary
school, middle school. He’d always been able to charm me into doing whatever he
wanted. Even now as he began to saunter off, expecting me to follow, I couldn’t
stop myself from bending to his will.
“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his head slightly in the
direction of the student parking lot.
“Yeah okay, sure,” I mumbled, internally berating
myself for being so easily swayed by him. I followed him over to his Jeep. It
was an older model, some of the burgundy paint peeling off. The inside smelled
like he did; I took multiple deep breaths. He still remembered how to get to my
house. The trip was for the most part silent, which gave me time to run
scenarios, and they all ended badly, with some terrible prank that would awaken
my latent telekinetic powers akin to my homegirl Carrie White.
“Casa de Bailey.”
I felt myself jump slightly, having been lost in my
Stephen King fantasies.
“Thanks,” I said, hopping out of the passenger’s side.
I put my bag on and walked towards the rear of the Jeep. I didn’t think he’d
get out of the car, but he met me at the back and removed my bike for me. As he
set it down on the pavement, I took in how strong his arms looked and how the
sleeves of his t-shirt were being eaten by their size. He had biceps. He had
triceps. If there were any other muscles in the upper arm, he had those too.
“Can I ask you something?” What could he want to ask
me? He’d probably request that I transfer schools so he wouldn’t have to look
at his loser ex-best friend anymore.
“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, not
knowing where this was going and not really wanting to find out. “You can come
inside.” I started around back to put away my bike; he followed. I put my bike in
the garage and unlocked the back door. I walked up the three steps into the
kitchen and offered him something to drink.
“Milk, if you have it.” I poured him a large glass and
he began to gulp it down. He was so white, drinking milk like it was actually
good. I used to give him such a hard time about it. “Thanks,” he said, wiping
away a milk mustache with his forearm.
“So, what did you want to ask me?” I was curious,
seeing as we hadn’t really spoken in years.
“Oh yeah,” he said. I took in his thick eyebrows,
which were furrowed in seriousness. I wanted to stroke his brows with my
fingers, to feel his face in my hands. I bet his skin was soft. He frowned and
it made me a little worried.
“What?” I asked. “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I still
cared about him and his well-being. Maybe it was idiotic of me to still be so
devoted to a person that ignored my sufferings, and maybe I should have ignored
Mason in return, but my gut instinct was to be concerned.
“Here’s the thing,” he started, “I’m kind of failing
English and I was wondering if you could help me out. Bret and the other guys
are barely passing, and you’re so smart, I figured you’d be the best person to
tutor me.” He paused for a moment, glancing at me. “I don’t want anyone to
know.”
“That I’m helping you or that you’re failing English?”
I asked, to clarify.
“Both,” he blurted out quickly. I felt my face go hot
and was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t want people to know he was even
interacting with me. It was kind of degrading, and I needed to have some
self-worth and tell him that I had more value than that. That was what I
should’ve done, but I was weak, and he was hot.
“Okay,” I said like a dope. I smiled, trying to
lighten the mood. “I’ll help you out.”
“Thanks dude,” he said, a sound of relief in his
voice. “You good to meet here after school?”
“Yeah, like what, Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
“Nah, every day. At least until I get my grade up. My
parents lost their shit when they got my progress report.” Every day? That was
going to take up a lot of time, and I may not have had much else to do, but I
couldn’t believe he just imposed his own tutoring schedule on me.
“Yeah,” I said, even more like a dope. “No problem.”
“Well, I have to go,” he said suddenly. I turned to
get the milk, ready to offer him another glass of moo juice, but he was gone
out of the back door before I could get the words out.
“See you later,” I said aloud to myself, putting the
milk back in the fridge.
If I put my self-respect and righteous anger aside,
this was fantastic. I’d get to talk to Mason every day. I’d get to look at his
gorgeous face and body every day. I’d get to imagine, even though it was
ridiculous, that we were still best friends. He had come to me for help.
That just proved that there was still a connection between us. Maybe, in his
own odd way, Mason was trying to rekindle our friendship.
I had noticed in the previous weeks that he looked
bigger than usual. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me but being
able to look at him without having to avert my eyes confirmed it. He was growing.
I’d heard he quit the football team. Everyone had heard he’d quit the team. It
was the hottest gossip for the entire first month of school. I knew he still
exercised, having heard him mention to Bret he worked out with his uncle every
night, trying to get into powerlifting. I didn’t know what that entailed, but
it sure sounded like something I wanted to see. I was getting an erection just
thinking about Mason possibly getting a bit of a belly to go along with the
sheer size he was already putting on.
I realized I’d been keeping tabs on him without really
meaning to. If his name was brought up, I listened. I was still invested in his
life, and this new arrangement was going to potentially put me in a dangerous
situation.
The fact he’d be coming over again tomorrow got me
feeling nervous. I didn’t want things to feel awkward. I wanted to do something
nice for him to show I wasn’t holding a grudge or anything (even if I was still
a little pissed at him). All hadn’t been forgiven, but maybe this was the start
to an important conversation.
I decided to go shopping for some snacks. He’d always
been a big eater, and he’d probably need some brain food if we were to be
studying. He liked potato chips and submarine sandwiches. (“You gotta really
pack on the ingredients,” he’d told me when we were younger. “I’m talking a ridiculous
amount of meat and cheese. Oil, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.”
I stared in astonishment at the monstrous sandwich he
had constructed. It looked big enough to feed three people.
“You really think you can eat all of that?” I asked.
“You don’t think I can Oli?” he asked, smirking.
“I think you can. You can do anything!”
“That’s right,” he said. “You wanna watch demolish
this thing?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling oddly attracted to him in that
moment. It was a moment that definitely raised a red flag for me. Why had I
been so invested in his display of gluttony?
He finished that entire sub and a bag of family sized chips.
His dad came home after a long day of work looking for the ingredients to make
himself a sandwich. “Where’s the deli meat?” Mr. Megalos asked in his Greek
accent.
“I ate it all, Dad,” Mason replied, not even embarrassed.
Mr. Megalos playfully smacked Mason on the back of the head before sending us
to the store to buy some more turkey breast. Mason used the change to buy us a
package of oatmeal cream pies. Before I even got the chance to have a second
one, he’d eaten the rest of them on our walk home.
I was glad that he did.)
The next day at school I
really wanted to talk to Mason, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I
waited the day out and went to get my bike. Mason, not Bret, was leaning on the
pillar near the bike rack.
“Hello,”
I said, a little bit uneasy. He probably didn’t want my help anymore. He
probably realized he could find someone else to tutor him.
“What’s
up, Oli?” he asked, smiling like everything was normal between us. Nobody
called me Oli anymore. Just hearing him say my name with a smile on his face
was enough to give me the vapors. I felt like flinging myself into his muscled
arms, swooning.
“Nothing
much.” I smiled back at him nervously. “I’m still meeting you at my house,
right?”
“Yeah,
definitely.” He looked at me seriously. My heart must have skipped a beat. “I
told Bret to back off. If he fucks with you again, just let me know. Got it?”
“Ye—yeah,”
I stammered. “Thanks a lot.” He was so hot when he was serious. He furrowed his
brow in a way that made him look slightly angry. I bet he’d make a similar face
while having sex.
“See
you soon,” he said, swaggering off towards where his car was parked. I took in
his wide back and beefy behind. He didn’t even carry a bookbag; he just had a folder,
a couple of notebooks, and the novel we were reading in class. This was
probably why he was failing.
I
unlocked my bike, mounted it, and rode off towards home. Relief swept over me
at the thought of being Bret-free. I continued to pedal and felt myself come
alive. I loved riding my bike; I was pretty fit because of it, with muscular
thighs and a firm, round ass. My ass was definitely a first runner up to
Mason’s glorious cakes. It was nearing the end of October and when it started
to snow, I would have to swap my tires for better traction. I thought about
Mason on the ride home and what I wanted to do to him. I hated wanting him so
badly, but I loved it at the same time. Crushes were so weird that way. It was
starting to consume me, yet I didn’t really mind it.
He
was sitting on the front steps when I got there.
“Oli,”
he said, standing to meet me at the path to the backyard. He had his hand in
his shirt, scratching his tummy. He moved his hand away. “Why don’t you have a
car?” His voice was getting to me. I missed hearing his voice more than I
realized.
“I
can’t afford a nice Jeep like you,” I said a little sarcastically. He laughed,
catching my slight insult to the Jeep that had once belonged to Mr. Megalos. It
was given to Mason for his birthday last year. I remembered Mr. Megalos driving
us to elementary school in that thing, so to see Mason driving it now was kind
of funny. “You know it’s just me and my mom.”
“You
could get a job,” he suggested. “There are lots of cheap cars. I’d help you
look for one.” Mason had always liked cars and that sort of thing. His dad and
Uncle Galvin owned an auto shop that Mason helped out in. Galvin was the same
uncle he’d been working out with.
“I
live like eight blocks from the school and I never go anywhere,” I said,
feeling more at ease the longer we were around one another. “But if I ever do
start looking for a car, I’d hope the offer would still stand.”
“Of
course,” he said. “Consider it payment for your services.” I had put my bike
away during our conversation. I opened the back door, and we went inside.
“You
can go up to my room,” I said. He knew the way. I walked over to the fridge and
looked at the array of supplies I’d picked up yesterday. I’d gone overboard for
sure, but I removed the ingredients and placed them on the counter. I’d bought
provolone cheese, turkey breast, and honey roasted ham. I’d even gone so far as
to buy hoagie rolls and herb-seasoned submarine oil. I stuffed those hoagie
rolls full of meat and cheese and veggies, just like I knew he liked his
sandwiches—at least I knew he liked them this way years ago. I cut them in half
and placed them on a plate, pouring some original flavored Ruffles in a bowl. I
also put half a sleeve of Oreos on a separate plate and poured two glasses of
milk.
I
carried the tray carefully as I made my way up the stairs to my room. Entering,
I saw he was sitting at my desk, holding a photo of us at the beach when we
were in the seventh grade. I walked over to him and set the tray down next to
him on my desk.
“You
still have this?” he asked, smiling. I looked over at the picture in his hand. His
arm was around my shoulder and we both smiled wide at the camera. He had always
been taller than I was, and this was before he lost his baby fat.
“Yeah,”
I said shakily. I felt lame all of a sudden, still holding on to something he
probably considered a piece of junk. “Could you please put it down?” The frame
was even more special than the photograph; Mason had made it for me, painting
the phrase “Best Buds” in big, sloppy letters on the bottom, seashells and
starfish glued all around the rest of the frame. He had burned his fingers so
badly using the hot glue gun he wore band aids for a week. I remember how proud
he was of his craftsmanship.
“Sorry,”
he said, laughing. He carefully put the picture frame back in its place before picking
up a cookie, popping the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you
all tense.”
“I’m
not tense,” I said, sounding incredibly tense. He chewed, smirking slightly. I
needed to get a grip. I was going to ruin everything if I didn’t chill out. I
took a deep breath. “I thought a small snack would help you focus better.”
“This
is a small snack?” he asked.
“I
just—I remembered you had a big appetite.”
“You
remembered right,” he said, reaching for one of the sandwich halves and taking a
colossal bite. I felt even more embarrassed. Did he remember anything about me?
Did he ever think about me at all?
“Yeah.”
I sighed.
“You
know Oli,” he started, his mouth half full. “I never stopped eating big, but I’ve
definitely kicked it into overdrive since quitting football. If I don’t slow
down, I’m gonna get fat again like in that photo.” His free hand
absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach. It was like he was toying with me. He took
another large bite of the sandwich. “I already eat like garbage, but I started
a bulking cycle recently, really pushing myself to put on some mass. I think I’ve
already put on ten pounds.” Ten pounds was kind of a lot, seeing as he had quit
the football team only a little over a month ago.
“You—you
carry the weight well,” I said, aroused. “You don’t look fat to me.” He had
finished his first half and grabbed another.
“Are
you kidding?” he asked, grabbing his slightly protruding paunch and shaking the
small bit of belly he was sporting. “I eat way too much Oli.”
“I
don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, trying not to discourage
a habit I wanted him to continue.
“Get
this, I ordered two large pizzas from Domino’s the other weekend and finished
both of them. It was one of those deals where you save a ton of money if you
get the two larges. I’m a sucker for deals like that.”
“Who
isn’t?” I asked, watching him alternate between bites of the sandwich and the potato
chips.
“When
I got to the last slice, I was pissed. I wasn’t even full.”
“Wow
Mason,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “When you put it like that,
it does sound like a lot.”
“I
was lucky my mom had made two trays of pastitsio the night before.” He lifted
his shirt and showed me his belly, feeling the need to prove to me that he was
indeed packing on the pounds. He was kind of hairy, and I liked it. He grabbed
at his tummy with his strong hands, shaking it again, uncovered. I just wanted
to feel his stomach in my own hands. I needed to know what it felt like.
“This gut is brought to you by pastitsio, pizza, and protein shakes.”
He
left his shirt up as he reached for another portion of the sandwich. I watched
from my bed with my legs closed tight, as he bit, chewed, and swallowed,
repeating the process until he moved on to the next serving. His large hands
made those hefty sandwiches look like dainty finger food at a garden party. He
pulled at his t-shirt, covering himself.
“You
don’t wanna see that,” he said, laughing, his cheeks reddening slightly. He
grabbed a handful of the salty chips and shoved them into his mouth. I imagined
his hands grabbing a handful of my ass.
I
didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through these tutoring sessions.
He was pornographic. I was rock hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I was
hoping I’d soften up enough before I had to stand. He kept going and going
until he was chugging the glasses of milk. Only a couple of cookies remained on
the plate.
“How—uh, how much do you weigh?” I asked.
“I don’t really know. You got a scale?”
“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” I said, affirming that I
had one.
“Let’s do this,” he said, standing. I wiggled a little
before getting up, making sure to minimize the obviousness of the boner in my
pants. When I was out of sight, I took the time to tuck my penis into the
waistband of my underwear, so it was angled upwards, and the front of my pants
was flat. I brought the scale from my bathroom, praying he hadn’t noticed I was
still semi-erect.
“How much did you weigh?” I asked.
“207 pounds at the pre-season weigh-in back in August,”
he said, walking towards where I placed the scale in the middle of my bedroom. I
sat on my knees near where the number would be displayed. He stepped on the
scale and I glanced at the reading. “What’s the damage?” he asked, standing
perfectly still.
“Well, um—that’s something.”
“How much?”
“Maybe this thing is busted, but it says you weigh 226
pounds.” My dick throbbed as I said it. What was so hot about Mason putting on
weight like this? It wasn’t just muscle that turned me on, but also fat. I
hoped his bulking cycle never ended.
“Shit,” he said, his tone surprised yet
slightly satisfied. “I’m gonna be huge if I don’t start slowing down with all
this eating.” I swallowed, hard.
I couldn’t help him study today. I’d get better at putting
up with his natural eroticism, but today couldn’t be helped. He needed to leave
before I came in my pants. I could feel pre-cum starting to coat the lower half
of my stomach.
“I’m not feeling good all of a sudden,” I said. Mason
stepped off of the scale. I couldn’t think straight, and I was for sure too
turned on to focus.
“Really, why?” he asked.
“Like I just got a headache out of nowhere.” I was
going to cum any second. It’d take me five strokes tops with how I was feeling,
but I knew I’d want to go again immediately.
“Oh shit,” he said, picking up his stack of materials.
“You gonna be okay?”
“I probably just need to take some Tylenol and get a
nap in before it gets too late.”
“Okay.” He grabbed the rest of the Oreos. “You don’t
mind, do you?”
Did I mind?
Of course I didn’t mind. I was apparently some sort of freak who wanted him
eating constantly. “No, go ahead,” I said. He smiled at me appreciatively
before popping one of the cookies in his mouth. I walked him to the door, and
we said our goodbyes.
I ran back upstairs and got undressed. I stepped onto
the scale, which was still in the middle of my bedroom floor. I weighed myself:
159 pounds.
Mason was 67 pounds bigger than I was. I ran my hand
over the shaft of my penis. I gave it one pump, two pumps. Fuck, I was
picturing his gut in his hands. Three pumps, Four pumps. He had eaten
everything on that tray. I pictured Mason getting bigger and beefier. That’s
what did it; I came in thick spurts all over myself.
Tomorrow was going to be tough.
It didn’t get any easier controlling my sexual compulsions
when Mason came by for tutoring. It had been two weeks since he first asked for
my assistance, and I helped him with his papers and worksheets. We also spent
time reading. He was so damn cute. He’d whisper things to himself about what
was happening in whatever he was annotating. I had heard him say “no way” or
“what” at least once per chapter.
I thought this stuff was all really easy, and I was
shocked at how he let his grade fall so low in less than two months of school.
He must not have done any type of work for this class until now. I considered
the fact that he had a social life and lots of friends to distract him from
school. I, on the other hand, spent my free time making flashcards and watching
reruns of Chopped and Good Eats. Mason had always been the
largest component of my social life, so when he went away, so did any potential
high school social plans.
Each study visit I always had a tray with different
types of snacks. I kept in mind that Mason was a big eater, and the portions
remained hearty and plentiful. It was a Friday study session with an essay due
on Monday.
“I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow, maybe
even Sunday.” He laughed. “I’m totally hopeless.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, being stereotypically
positive. “I think you’re doing great. Did you ask Mr. Gonzalez what your grade
was?” He asked every Friday.
“D-plus,” he said with his typical furrowed brow. He
sighed and began tossing books into his bag (which I told him he needed
to start carrying). I stood silent for a moment, contemplating what I should
say. “If he wasn’t such a dick and took late work, I wouldn’t have to stress so
hard over this.” I wanted to make him feel like the work he was doing was
valuable. I saw that he was improving; I just wished he could see it too.
“You’ve got to think about it like you’re lifting
weights, you know? You could barely lift anything at the start, but with hard
work and dedication you can lift things you never thought possible. You had a thirty
percent two weeks ago, and you’re telling me you’ve been able to get that up over
a sixty-five? Just imagine where you’ll be in just one more week, a month from
now, even. You’ll have the buffest, strongest grade ever.”
“You think so?” he mused. He sat silently for a moment
as he pondered what I had just said. He smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thanks
Oliver.”
He lifted his hulking frame out of my desk chair and
strode over to where I stood. He wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a bear
hug. I could feel my entire body tingle in pleasure as I felt Mason for the
first time in forever. I didn’t dare ruin it by trying to hug him back. My
hands at my side, I could feel his warmth, I could smell the chips he ate and
the aftershave he wore. They mixed together in a scent that was uniquely Mason.
His arms were so solid, as was his slight gut. It was so brief, but it made me
the happiest guy in the world. “You have always been the smartest person I know.”
“Thanks—thanks a lot.” He let me go and grabbed his
bag. “Do you think you might want something more substantial to eat tomorrow or
just a snack? I could definitely make you a meal if you wanted.”
I was doing way too much. The snacks were one thing,
completely hospitable, but now I was offering to make him dinner? Did Bret do
things like this for him? His other football friends? I was not being very
hetero.
“Really?” he asked, shockingly excited. “Do you
remember in sixth grade when you wanted to be a chef?” I spent that entire year
working through a kid-friendly cookbook. I even started going off-script,
coming up with some of my own recipes (though they were just derivative of other
things I’d learned from the cookbook). I doubted Mason knew he was the reason I
wanted to learn how to cook.
“Yeah,” I said. “I cooked a different recipe every day
for like nine months. You ate dinner at our house every other day before eating
the dinner your mom made.” He laughed at the memory.
“I gained like twenty pounds during that,” he started,
“but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. You’re the reason I was able to
grow up big and strong.” He rubbed his gut absent-mindedly. He was always doing
that, and it drove me damn near insane.
“Stop playing,” I said, laughing.
“I’m serious!” he said. We began walking down the
stairs towards the front door. We continued planning for the following evening
of studying. “I want that chicken and cheese thing you made. Now that was
delicious.”
“I could do that.”
“How’s seven for you?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my
dad in the shop for a bit and then I’m gonna go lift with Uncle Galvin.”
“That works for me,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll be
hungry.”
“Hell yeah,” he replied enthusiastically. “Night Oli.”
“Goodnight Mason,” I said, closing the door behind
him.
What was my life? Just like every night after he left,
I had to take some time to masturbate. When I finished, I saw it was almost ten.
My mom would be back soon. I’d watch whatever was on the Food Network and
think about seeing Mason again until she got home.
As happy as I was, I couldn’t help serving myself a
much-needed reality check. I wanted to believe that things were going great. We
were spending lots of time together and vibing really well. He actually remembered
the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. But we still didn’t speak to one another
at school. It was like our relationship existed solely in my bedroom. How well could
things be going for me if I was just the gay nerd who overfed him and made sure
he didn’t fail English?
I woke up around six the next morning. I was definitely
an early bird, getting that worm and whatnot. I took a quick shower and styled
my hair. It was thick and black. I used a coconut oil cream to make it curl. It
was kind of short, only about three or four inches long, but I thought it
looked pretty decent. I had brown eyes and brown skin. My complexion was the
color of a caramel hard candy. Both of my parents were black. My dad’s parents
were from the South. My mom’s mother was from Jamaica and her dad was from
Philadelphia.
I grabbed the basket for my bike and shot my mom a
text message. She wouldn’t be up until around eleven, and even after that she’d
be out of the house running errands before work. I was going to the store for
the ingredients in my dish.
It wasn’t that long of a bike ride to the grocery
store, and I’d been making the trip more frequently since I decided Mason
needed to be catered to with each visit. I shopped for a while, budgeting
things out, and choosing other side dishes. I got everything on my list and
remembered I wanted to pick up some ice cream for after dinner. I was going to
get Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion. It used to be Mason’s favorite flavor, and
I was willing to bet he still loved it.
I turned back and made my way to the frozen food
section. It was near where they kept the eggs and milk and cheese. I noticed
Bret with some serious bedhead grabbing a gallon of 2%. I snatched the ice
cream from the freezer and ran for the checkout, praying he hadn’t seen me. I
wanted to hurry the cashier along, but she was a kind older woman who had
always been nice to me.
“You sure do grocery shop a lot,” she said, laughing.
“You’re such a little thing, but you eat so much. But that’s how young men are.
Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”
I conversed with her, trying my best not to appear
rude, but I really didn’t need to encounter Bret on the weekend. I paid for my
stuff and left the store. I went and unlocked my bike, setting it upright so I
could put the groceries in the basket.
Before I could take off, I felt someone grab the hood
of my hoodie. I fell backwards, my bike falling to the ground. The food rolled
out onto the sidewalk.
I looked up from the pavement at Bret smirking down at
me. He had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a Jackson High football
sweatshirt. I normally would’ve just taken whatever beating he had for me, but
I was fed up. Today was supposed to be a good day. I was going to make Mason
his food and he’d compliment me, and I could live in my delusions for just a
little while longer.
I got to my knees before standing straight up. I
pushed him as hard as I could, and he stumbled back slightly. “Leave me the
fuck alone!” I shouted, kind of embarrassed by how high my voice got.
“Oh, it’s on, you fag,” Bret spat at me. Het set the
jug of milk he’d been carrying on the sidewalk. “I’m sick of looking at you and
your pink fag bike.”
“My bike is red,” I shouted. I didn’t say anything
else, and I had no idea what I should do next. We looked at one another
intensely.
“Red,” he said as he drew me closer to his body, yanking
on my hoodie. “Or pink,” he continued. Punch in the stomach. “You’re still a
fucking homo.” Punch. Punch in the mouth. Punch. Punch in the nose. Punch in
the cheekbone. Punch. Another punch in the gut. I was panting as he threw me to
the ground. I thought I was going to barf.
“Fuck—you—,” I managed to get out, catching my breath.
I had gotten used to my one punch in the stomach a day. This was taking me back
to sophomore year when our altercations left me with a new bruise every day. He
didn’t seem phased by what I said, just continuing to smirk at me.
“I sure am glad I drank the last of the milk now.” He
laughed, stooping to grab his milk, and walked over to his Dodge Charger.
I gathered the scattered items and checked to make
sure they were all okay. They were. I put everything back in the basket. I took
a few deep breaths before mounting my bike. I rode home and took another
shower.
I didn’t want to dwell on the experiences of the
morning. I put on some music and spent the rest of the time before I had to
start cooking doing laundry and other chores around the house. One beating
didn’t mean the world had to stop moving. This was nothing new.
I started cooking around five-thirty, so it would be
ready when Mason got here. About five minutes after seven the doorbell rang.
“Hey Mason,” I said, happy to see him. I smiled a
little too wide and felt my lip begin to bleed again. It was only a little. I
licked the blood away.
“What the fuck Oli?”
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I got beat up all the
time. This really was not a big deal. After high school I would never have to
deal with this sort of thing ever again.
“You look like shit,” he said angrily. “That’s what’s
wrong.”
“You’ve seen me like this before. It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me,” he said, eyebrows furious. “Who was it?
Who did this? I swear to God if you say Bret after I told him not to touch you
anymore.”
“It’s fine, really.” I didn’t want to make this into a
whole thing. I had spent the entire day trying to forget about it so that we
could have a good time eating and studying together. I wanted him to just leave
it alone. I wanted him to stop pretending like he actually cared about what
happened. I’d been getting my ass kicked for over three years and he’d never so
much as batted an eye.
“Oliver,” he pushed.
“The food is going to get cold, so let’s just go and
eat.” I walked away from the front door towards the kitchen, hoping he’d follow.
That was when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. We stood there a
moment. His strong, masculine hands held my upper arms firmly. He looked at my
bruised cheek, my busted lip. He brought his mouth to my forehead and kissed it
softly. It felt like we were standing there for hours but it couldn’t have been
longer than thirty seconds. “Mason—.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. He let go of my arms and
hesitated a moment before running out to his Jeep and driving off. Had he really
just kissed me? I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty sure there was lip to
forehead action.
After that Mason never called or texted me, and he didn’t
show up to school on Monday. I managed to avoid Bret after school and decided
to take Mason his homework. He really hadn’t missed all that much, but I really
wanted to see what that kiss was about. I also wondered if he worked on the
essay for English class at all. I hadn’t been busting my ass for him to start
failing again. It was a longer bike ride, but I made it to his place in about twenty
minutes. I rang the doorbell and Mason’s kid sister Agatha answered the door.
“Oliver! Oliver! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up
and down before reaching out for a hug.
“Hey Aggy,” I replied, embracing her. She was thirteen
now. I was eighteen, my birthday at the end of September, but Mason was nineteen.
His birthday was in July. It was a secret I swore to take to the grave. It was
the reason why he never invited classmates to his birthday parties growing up.
When he told me about why, it was like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. It
was like he was Matilda or something. Mr. and Mrs. Megalos had been remarkably
busy helping members of their family immigrate, starting their auto repair
business, and welcoming Aggy into the world. They straight up forgot to
register him for school. They waited so long that the district said he’d have
to wait for the following school year. Mason never told anyone how old he was.
He didn’t want people to think he failed a grade. He also didn’t want people to
think he had bad parents.
“I missed you so much,” she said. “I can’t believe
you’re here.”
“It’s good to see you too,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll
have to catch up soon, but is Mason home?”
“He’s sick,” she said with a pair of air quotes. “I
know he’s lying. Sick people don’t each as much as he does. You can go upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
I made my way upstairs, shocked by how little had
changed in their house in three years. I stood outside Mason’s door, nervous
about having to discuss what happened on Saturday. What if he didn’t want to
talk about it? What if he wanted to pretend it never happened at all? It was
now or never. I opened the door to his room. I’d been so wrapped up in my
thoughts I’d forgotten to knock. I shouldn’t have been so careless.
“Ah!” Mason yelped, looking over at me in his doorway.
He was naked, but that wasn’t the most outrageous
part. There were a ton of reasons why he could be naked and alone in his room.
This was his house after all. But he knelt at the side of his bed, dick in hand
and a sex toy in his ass. It was definitely the hottest thing I’d ever seen in
person, but still a major shock. His ass was just made to take phallic objects.
There was so much of him to take in, from the powerful arms to the beefy ass to
the bloated gut. I was frozen, staring at his dick and then the sex toy he’d
removed from his asshole. He tossed it in a shoe box and shoved it under his
bed.
“Oliver, close the door!” he said hurriedly. I turned
around and closed the door quickly. He probably wanted me on the other side of
it. “I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”
“Mason, look, I’m really, uh—really sorry,” I said,
turning back around and staring at him as he pulled on a pair of basketball
shorts.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. All I could think
about was how big his butt was. He probably did a ton of squats. His legs were
hairy, as were his forearms and chest. I could tell his sessions in the gym
were paying off, seeing as everything about him was getting absolutely massive.
But man, his gut had really grown. He was getting fat. Fatter than when he
showed me his belly the first time. He must have been eating constantly. The after-school
snacks I prepared for him couldn’t have been pumping him up this much. I knew
he said he was bulking, but did he mean to be getting so large?
“I brought your homework,” I said. My voice was
shaking. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should probably go.” What was going on? He was
into butt stuff? Was he gay? I’d heard that some straight guys were into anal.
They’d have their wives and girlfriends peg them with strap-ons. I couldn’t
process this right now with him in front of me. I turned to leave.
“Wait,” he called. “Can I have the work?” How was he
so calm? I took off my bag and pulled out the folder where I’d put all the
materials he’d need. I stood there, folder in hand, unable to walk towards him.
He walked over to me, his dick still semi-erect bobbing freely in the
basketball shorts. His thighs were like tree trunks. His chest was broad, and
his nipples were slightly bigger than I’d seen on other guys, kind of puffy. Overall,
he was looking much fleshier. I needed to focus.
“Sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.
I handed him the folder with the assignments. He reached out to grab them and I
took in his mammoth forearms. Mason was a man. He wasn’t my chubby best friend
from elementary school anymore. “I didn’t come in on purpose. I swear.”
He had kissed me on Saturday. I remembered my real
reason for coming over. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up now. I
had to let it go. He was just some conflicted straight boy who’d put this and
any other gay feelings behind him. He’d marry some girl, have some kids, and she’d
peg him well into old age. Me and this whole situation would become a distant
memory.
He moved closer to me.
I moved back slightly.
He moved closer to me again.
“Mason, what’re—?” I didn’t know why I came here. I
should have just ignored it. He dropped the folder on the ground and pulled me closer
to himself.
“I haven’t been honest with myself,” he whispered,
looking at me seriously. “Or with you.” I swallowed. He kissed me, on the lips
this time. I felt them for the first time on my own lips. This was authentic
lip to lip action. I wanted to grab his ass. I wanted to touch his belly. I
wanted everything with Mason, but something was stopping me. He pulled away and
looked at me again. “I think—I think that I’ve always wanted this.”
He was waiting on me to say something, and I could
tell he started to worry. As much as my body ached for him, my mind was
conflicted.
“I should go,” I whispered softly, afraid of how’d
he’d react to this rejection. It was clear I didn’t know him as well as I
thought I did. He just took a step back, his lower lip trembling like he was
about to cry. I was an idiot. I left his room, closing his door behind me. I
was moving pretty quickly now, needing to put as much distance between us as
possible so I could clear my head.
“Later Aggy!” I called, opening their front door. I was
on my bike and out on the street in a matter of seconds. I pedaled hard, so
hard I could feel the burn in my legs.
I made my way home and into my room. I wouldn’t be
able to think with the erection I had. I was rock hard the entire bike ride
home. I had always been an avid masturbator, but recently it had gotten out of
hand.
When I finished, I tried to make sense of the
situation. It wasn’t as simple as Mason and I being able to fool around. Where
were things going to go now? Would he come out? Would he want to date me? If Mason
just wanted to experiment with me, I couldn’t do it, even if part of me wanted
to be used by him. I’d spent the last three years allowing myself to be mistreated,
and I was not ready to swap one form of degradation for another.
I finished my homework in a daze, not too sure of what
I actually completed. I went to bed feeling absolutely miserable.
The next day, I avoided Mason like the plague. I felt
wrong, like he really had been sick, and he was making a huge mistake. I went
the whole day avoiding him. I didn’t even look in his direction, so I had no
idea if he was looking in mine. After school I made my way to my bike. I had to
get home. I just needed to be alone to think some more. I set down my bag and
started to put in the combo for my bike lock.
I fell forward.
Someone had kicked me in the back as I was kneeling. I
turned and saw that it was Bret. Of course it was Bret. He wasn’t alone today. Standing
slightly behind him were these other football guys named Bill and Zeke. I
wished my eyes were deceiving me, but Mason was there too, his hands in the
pockets of his jeans. I tried to finish unlocking my bike, but Bret kicked me
again and I fell forward once more. I looked up at Mason, the giant I had
idealized for so long. He looked away. Bret said something obscene, but I was
too intensely focused on Mason to catch exactly what was said. Our eyes met and
we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
I hated Mason.
I stood up after finally getting my bike unlocked. I
mounted it and tried to ride off. I was stopped and pushed over. I wondered why
no teachers or staff members tried to intervene. There had to be at least one
nearby. I had ripped my jeans when I hit the pavement. I tried to get up. They
were all calling me names and laughing. Mason stood silent, their all-powerful
leader.
I tried to ride off again and this time I got away. I
was crying, but I was too far away from them to see me. I felt like I was
nothing, an empty shell peddling home. Mason was—I didn’t know what he was. I
didn’t know who he was anymore. We had gone down two completely different
paths, and I had thought they were meeting back up. It was stupid of me to
believe that. Our paths were only going to continue diverging.
I went around back and put my bike away before going
inside to think about Mason some more. The way he looked away when I needed him
had me seething. I pulled off my sneakers and the ripped pair of jeans. I
hadn’t cut my knee at all, so that was something to be happy about. The
doorbell rang. I sat on the sofa hoping they would go away. The bell kept
ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
They weren’t going away. I was reaching my boiling
point. I just needed to be alone, at least for an hour or so. I ran to the door
and pulled it open aggressively.
“Can I help you—?” I asked, before registering who had
been ringing the doorbell.
“Hey.” It was Mason. “Can I talk to you, please?” He
looked down at my legs. I was in nothing but a t-shirt and pair of black briefs.
I didn’t even care. I was still livid.
“What?” I asked harshly. “Did you come to beat me up
too? I could have sworn you made the first move yesterday. But if you find it
appropriate to pin all faggish activity on me I’m willing to carry the burden.”
“I’m so sorry, Oli.” I felt myself weaken. No. I
needed to remain strong. His eyebrows were furrowed; his eyes were sad. Those
sad, green eyes had gotten their way numerous times when we were younger.
“Okay, I accept your apology.” I began to close the
door. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!” he called, using his weight to keep the door
open. “I’m not finished. Can I come in?”
“No,” I said, trying my best to stand my ground. “I
hope you fail English. I hope I never have to look at your stupid face ever
again.”
“Oli,” he pleaded. He looked at me again with those
sorrowful eyes. I hesitated for a moment, but then I moved out of the way so he
could enter the house. He brought his beefy frame through the door.
“I’ve got to know,” he started, blushing. “Why did you
run out yesterday?”
“Huh?”
“Yesterday, when I was, you know—uh masturbating.” I
stood silent, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to hear. I really wasn’t
too sure what his angle was anymore. Did that incident mean something to him or
not? “Is it because you don’t like how I look? I know I’ve gained some weight.
I’m just trying to get some more size, and I’ll lose the extra padding
eventually. I’ll start losing it right now if that’s what it takes for you to
be attracted to me.”
“Your appearance has absolutely nothing to do with why
I left yesterday,” I said honestly. He really thought that was the only reason
I left? Had he not considered the entire situation? The last three years of our
lives?
“It’s doesn’t?” he asked, taken aback. “Well, I’m not
sure but I think I might be—you know, gay. And—and I have all these feelings
for you. Hanging out with you again has only helped me confirm what I knew all
along. I missed my best friend, Oliver.”
“Mason—,” I started before he cut me off.
“I’m probably not even your type. That’s so fucking
pretentious of me to assume you even think I’m attractive.”
“Mason, listen,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I always
believed you didn’t mean to hurt me. I held out hope that we could at least one
day be friends again. But the thing that happened Saturday, and then walking in
on you yesterday. It just made me angry.”
He was still looking at me seriously, taking in
everything I was saying, really trying to hear me out.
“Angry that you felt you couldn’t have talked to me
sooner. Angry that you thought we could just sort of hook up? I don’t really
know what you thought, but it doesn’t feel like you even tried to think about
me at all.”
“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his
eyes watering. “I fucked up. I’m a pussy. I’m sorry Oliver. I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t take it, looking at him with tears
streaming down his face. I’d never seen such a big man cry before, and it made
me feel like I needed to give him a hug. But if I didn’t stand up for myself
now, I’d always be walked all over.
“When you asked me to help you with your English work
do you remember what you said to me?” He shook his head no. “You told me that
you didn’t want people to know you were associating with me. I felt so
worthless, but I did it anyway because—because you’re still one of the most
important people in my life.”
“I’ll never make you feel worthless ever again,” he
said, his voice serious and honest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it
up to you if you give me the chance.”
I crossed my arms, considering what he said. I
believed him. I was scared that I believed him. What if trusted him and got
hurt even worse than before.
“I want us to be together,” he said, sniffling. “Being
with you makes me feel good, and I want to feel good all the time.”
“I—I think that I want to be with you too,” I said,
looking away from him, unsure of if it was a good idea to relent so easily.
“Really?” he asked, wiping his eyes.
It was building up inside of me, the love I had for
him, the confession that had been left unsaid years ago. I felt it coming out,
like word vomit.
“I love everything about you,” I started, still unable
to look at him, “the way your eyebrows do that thing and the way you eat and
don’t stop. And if you like bulking and powerlifting I don’t mind that. I think
you look amazing and—and, I don’t know, Mason, if you gained more weight, I
would still be attracted to you. Get as big as you want, really.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Oliver. You’re probably one
of the best-looking guys in school and you’re attracted to me? Girls hate that
you’re gay.” He took a deep breath. “I have never felt the same about girls
that I do about you. I think about you every day.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re
hot and—and I would even want you to get bigger. I don’t know how to explain
it, but the fact that you’re getting bigger makes me really—you know.” I
felt like such a weirdo. So much was happening all at once. “I’ve never thought
you’ve looked so good.” It felt like the time I told him I was gay. I wondered
if he’d just walk out like he had then.
“You’d be okay with me being bigger? For real?” he
asked. I felt a slight amount of relief. He hadn’t walked out.
“Yes,” I said, my body tense with nerves. “I would.”
“I like this, being bigger. I always have,” he said.
It was silent for a moment. “I want to be bigger. I want to get stronger. This
size is something I would’ve never gotten if I kept playing football.” He
laughed nervously.
“What?” I asked.
“You sure you’re okay being seen with some big monster?”
“I don’t think you could ever be a monster.” He walked
towards me and kissed me so fast I almost fell over. He was huge, like a big
teddy bear, and I loved it. I really did, a hundred percent. He laughed,
kissing me through the tears on his face. He held me close to him, my dick
pressing against him through my underwear.
“Now what?” I asked.
“I guess you’re my boyfriend,” he said seriously. “If
you’re okay with that.”
My whole body felt intensely warm. It was like I was
in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I’d crashed my bike on my way home and I was in
a coma, my consciousness somewhere between earth and the great beyond.
Something weighed heavily on me and I was afraid to bring
it up. I wanted to squeal with joy and cry tears of relief, but I had to make sure
we were on the same page. I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone.
I was quiet, not sure how to ask Mason what was on my
mind. I think he hated when I got all silent like this. He was a much more
direct sort of person.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s just—am I, uh—is this a secret?”
“No,” he said, eyebrows serious. “I hate you even had
to consider that. You’re never going to be a secret in my life ever again.”
I was his boyfriend.
He was my boyfriend.
We were boyfriend and boyfriend.
The next day in school Mason talked to me in every
class. He sat with me at lunch. He stopped at my locker with me. He was trying
very hard to prove to me that he was serious. He meant what he said about making
it up to me for the last three years.
“Mason, what the fuck is your problem?” Bret asked
disgustedly. “This whole day you’ve been acting weird.” Bret looked over at me,
obviously insinuating that I was what was weird. English class had just ended,
and Mason was going to give me a ride home, and not because he wanted something
from me, just because he wanted to be around me. I hadn’t been this happy in a
long time.
“What do you mean?” Mason asked, feigning ignorance.
“The fag, Mason. The fag.” Bret spat the word fag like
it was a disease.
“I don’t think you should use that word anymore. Don’t
be that guy.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to hear you using that word or making
jokes or putting your hands on Oliver ever again. You or anybody else, so
spread the word.”
“Are you in love with him or something?” Bret asked,
trying to get a rise out of Mason.
“I might be, yeah,” Mason replied seriously. Bret’s
eyes widened before he began to laugh hysterically. “We’re dating.”
“Mason, you are hilarious.” Mason leaned over towards
me. He brought his face incredibly close to mine before he touched my lips
softly with his own, kissing me. It was a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, but
it made me feel exposed. I’d barely kissed anyone before and never in public. “You’re
taking it too far dude. That was gay as hell.”
“Probably because I’m gay.”
“You’re—you’re not joking? You’re a fag too?”
“Yep,” Mason said, wrapping his beefy arm around me. “And
watch your language, dude. There’s only so many times I’m going to tell you.”
Bret ran off, probably to go tell someone. By tomorrow
every single person in the school would know. I wondered what people would say.
I hoped Mason would be all right. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest decision.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, still thinking
about him kissing me in front of Bret.
“It’s not like you’re my secret boyfriend.” He smiled
and I melted.
He took me home and we went inside. We were going to
study and hang out for a while. He told me that he wanted to spend so much time
together that I’d get sick of him. I told him that’d never happen. And he said
that meant we’d just be stuck with each other. We were in the second week of
November, and the weather had cooled considerably. I volunteered to make hot
chocolate and he happily accepted my offer. I also provided a plate of chocolate
chip cookies I’d made the night before.
“Thanks,” he said as I handed him the drink. He sipped
it carefully, making sure to collect the mini marshmallows. He must’ve gotten too
excited because some of it spilled onto his lap. He stood quickly.
“Aw shit,” he said.
“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing to grab some paper
towels.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m
kind of pissed I wasted some of my hot chocolate.” I laughed at his serious expression,
telling him that I was more than willing to make him another mugful. We sopped
up the bulk of the liquid with the paper towels, but he let me know he didn’t
like the moist feeling.
“I don’t want it to soak into my underwear.”
He popped open the button of his jeans with a sigh of
relief. He pulled them down and stood in my kitchen in a pair of navy boxer
briefs. “I’ve got to get some new jeans.” He sure wasn’t modest. I was getting
hard looking at his big hairy thighs. He could crush someone’s skull with those
things. I kind of wanted my skull crushed.
“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” I
said, still staring at his legs. “Maybe a pair of basketball shorts.”
“I’m good like this if you don’t mind,” he said, standing
before me like a Grecian statue.
“No way. I don’t think I can control myself looking at
you with your legs out like that.” He laughed, jokingly telling me that I was
weird.
“They’re just legs,” he said, grinning at me. He’d
always loved showing off, and I had always been a willing observer. “And who
says you need to control yourself?”
“It’s not just your legs,” I said, getting excited.
“It’s your ass. I’ve been looking at your butt for years.”
He turned, looking over his shoulder back at me. The
fabric of his underwear separated each cheek, making his ass look even juicer.
I wanted to take a bite out of it, my mouth watering at the sight of how much
weight he was carrying back there. “If you’ve been checking it out for years,
how’s it looking nowadays?”
“Phenomenal,” I said, zoning out. I was completely
mesmerized. There was nothing that could break me out of this trance.
“You can grab it,” he said, his voice almost a
whisper, like he didn’t know if what he said was okay. Was he testing my
attraction to him? Who wouldn’t want to squeeze his meaty ass? I walked closer
to where he stood, my hands cupping the ass I’d only ever dreamed of touching since
I knew I liked men. I jiggled it slightly, impressed by how I could still feel
the muscle underneath its fatty outer layer.
“It definitely feels bigger than I thought it would,”
I said, still touching him.
“I do a lot of squats,” he said, laughing apprehensively.
“I think it’s gotten bigger these last couple of weeks. Working out with my
uncle and eating like I do has changed my body faster than I thought it would.”
He turned around, and I noticed he was hard. He looked
down at his penis straining against his boxer briefs and then away from me,
biting his lower lip nervously. I bet his muscle-gut blocked some of his lower
half from sight. How long would it be before he wouldn’t be able to see his dick
when he looked down?
It was nice that he physically reacted to me feeling
him up, but was he expecting something more? Would he want to bottom? Was he
prepared for that today? I had wondered when things would become more sexual
between us. We’d known each other for so long, but not as sexual beings with lots
of sexual urges.
I turned away from him, walking towards the freezer. I
couldn’t take the awkwardness. I grabbed the ice cream from a few weeks ago
that he never got to eat.
“Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion,” he exclaimed
gleefully.
“Yeah, I thought you might like it.” I grabbed a spoon,
handing it to him along with the pint of ice cream. The little container in his
large hand was really cute. He peeled off the lid and dug into the dessert greedily.
This probably wasn’t enough ice cream to satiate him. He walked casually over
towards a counter, pressing his butt up against it. He leaned back and ate
spoonful after spoonful. He licked the spoon slowly after each mouthful.
Was he putting on a show for me? Like when we were
younger?
“That was good,” he said after less than ten minutes
of eating. A now empty container sat on the counter next to him. He gave a
satisfied belch and put his hands on his slightly bloated middle.
“You really know how to eat,” I observed.
“It’s probably weird,” he started, pulling at the hem
of his t-shirt, making sure not to meet my gaze, “but it kind of turns me on
sometimes.”
“It’s not weird.”
I made my way to where he stood against the counter,
reaching out and placing my hands on the sides of his middle. We both stood
there, silently aroused. I could hear his breathing—in and out, in and out. I
lifted his t-shirt. He rested his hand on my shoulder as I massaged his gut. He
gave a satisfied moan that made my dick twitch.
“This feels really good.”
“It does?” I asked. I was on cloud nine, finally
getting my hands on his gut after fixating over it for weeks. I could see he
was getting hard, and I couldn’t believe he happened to be on the same
wavelength as I was. I knew he said he liked being bigger, but I didn’t realize
he liked it in this way.
“Don’t—don’t stop,” he whispered breathily, closing
his eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned, unable to suppress the
expression.
I was feeling bold, wanting to take further control of
his pleasure. He could be in charge about everything else in our lives, but in
this moment, I knew I was the one who could call the shots. I slid one of my
hands down under his gut, sliding it into the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to get his consent
before I continued.
He just moaned again, whimpering as my hand wrapped
around his erection.
“Tell me you want me to do this,” I commanded.
“I want it, Oliver,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop.”
He slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down
his boxer briefs, so I had easier access to his penis. It was above average size
and thick, but I was bigger and for some reason that really turned me on. I
stroked him gently, enjoying how it pulsated in my hand. I noticed he relaxed
his stomach muscles and his gut pushed forward some more. I looked up at his
face and he looked back, his eyes glazed over. Fuck, was that a hot expression.
I stopped for a second, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling
out my own dick. I stroked us both off, moving nice and slow. With both of my
hands now occupied elsewhere, Mason took it upon himself to massage his stomach.
“That belly is looking real good,” I said, watching
his expression carefully. He looked—pleased! His eyes were closed, but he got
that grin on his face again. He grabbed his gut by the sides and gave it a shake.
He was close and I could tell. Seeing him so aroused
was turning me on more than I thought possible. I was going to push him over
the edge.
“Fuck Mason, I can only imagine how big your gut is
gonna be a few months from now.”
It was a risk, but it paid off. He shot a huge stream
of cum across the kitchen floor. He looked at me now, his eyes still had that
glazed-over look and he fell to his knees. He grabbed at my jeans, pulling them
down along with my underwear.
“Whoa, Mason, what’re—?”
He licked the head of my penis holding the shaft in
his somewhat rough hand. His mouth was warm, and he worked my dick with
unexpected finesse. Looking down at the top of his head, I took in his curly
brown hair. I couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was on his knees giving me
head. I also couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was Mason of all
people.
“Mase, I’m coming.” He removed my dick from his mouth,
and I felt cum erupt from inside of me so forcefully I got lightheaded. It wasn’t
until I was completely finished that I was able to take in what had occurred.
Mason was still on his knees, his face covered in my cum. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t seem like
everything was okay. He got off of his knees, pulling up his underwear. We
cleaned up in silence. He got my cum off his face, and I got his cum off the
floor. He was the one who broke the silence. “That was weird.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, kind of,” he said, looking down at the kitchen
tiles. “What was with that stuff you were saying?”
“Did you not like that?” I asked, feeling less
confident than I had been during our sexual encounter. Things were shifting
back into their regular alignment. Me being awkward. Mason being intimidating.
“I just—when we talked about me being bigger, you didn’t
just mean muscles, did you?”
“I—I, uh, there’s nothing wrong with being bigger.”
“Were you just saying that because you figured out
that’s what I’m into?” he asked. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself to be
attracted to me like this.”
“Mason,” I started, “I think it’s more than obvious we
like the same thing. I don’t know how we lucked out like this, but that gut you’ve
got is definitely sexy.” He just laughed.
“Oli, c’mon,” he said. “You’re legit gorgeous. You
could be an underwear model or something, I mean, damn, your quads are amazing.”
I laughed. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and pulled me forward. He rested
his masculine hands on my ass, like I had always wanted. “And this bubble butt
is something else.”
“I’ve got to know Mason. When did you start thinking
you might be gay?”
“The day you told me,” he said. I pushed myself away
from his solid body.
“What?”
“Yeah, you coming out to me was really confusing. And I
figured I should avoid you for a little while to figure things out—I didn’t think
it’d be three years though, sorry.”
I just laughed. We’d missed out on years
together. There really was nothing to do but find the humor in the situation,
because otherwise it would be too sad to think about.
“I started watching gay porn freshman year and I bought
that sex toy about a year ago.”
“You’re something else,” I said. “I guess that’s why I
like you so much.”
He smiled and it just felt like it got easier to breath.
I ended up making him another mug of hot chocolate before throwing his jeans in
the washing machine. Being domestic with him was turning me on, but then again,
anything involving Mason was a turn on. I was starting to feel more peaceful.
Mason and I would keep talking and figuring things out about this relationship.
We had time. We finally had time.
Christmas break came after what felt like an eternity.
Of course, people were talking about me and Mason. We could hear their not-so-whispered
remarks every single day. He ignored it and held my hand through it all, which
really meant a lot to me. He was an incredible person.
Mason had been so liked by everyone, that it was odd
to see his old friends ignore him or mumble fucked-up things under their breath
when he was nearby. I didn’t know how he could take it, falling so far from the
graces of the popular crowd. I had always been on the outskirts, so I couldn’t really
understand what he was going through.
We’d made it through Thanksgiving unscathed. It was a
little sad we couldn’t spend the holiday together, but Mason hadn’t come out to
his family and I hadn’t told my mom we were dating. He’d pushed himself incredibly
hard these last couple of weeks, so if he wanted to ease into telling his
parents, I wasn’t going to complain.
But that tranquility Mason was experiencing at home
was short lived. If the entire high school knew Mason was gay, there was only a
matter of time before word got back to people’s parents. Those parents talked
to other parents, and those parents talked to Mason’s parents.
The first night of break, Mason was confronted by his
father about what he’d heard from a customer in his auto shop. I hated the look
on Mason’s face when he told me this story. It was heartbreaking. It felt like
it was all my fault.
Mason’s dad threw him out. Mr. Megalos took him up by
the collar of his shirt and threw him out the front door. Well, he grabbed his
collar, yes, and likely pulled him by it, but I doubted he could actually lift Mason
to throw him anywhere. His mom let him back in of course, but he packed a bag
and left. He’d shown up on my doorstep a little before midnight. It was obvious
he’d been crying.
“They found out,” he said. And I knew. I knew his heart
was probably in a million pieces.
“Oliver, who is at the door?” My mother walked into the
foyer, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. She’d gotten in from work about an
hour ago and had just finished with some self-care. I was glad she’d just taken
a bath, because I needed her to be in a good mood.
“Mom, it’s Mason,” I said.
“Well look at that,” she said, taking him in for the
first time in three years. “What has Katerina been feeding you?” Mason gave a
half-hearted laugh, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house.
“It’s, uh, good to see you Ms. Bailey.”
“Mason, you can go up to my room while I talk to my
mom.”
My mom raised her eyebrows at this, watching as Mason
walked towards the rear of the house where the stairs were. That was when the
begging began. She had me on my knees.
“You know he can’t stay here Oliver.”
“Mom,” I pleaded, my voice somewhat whiny. “He needs
this. He’s my best friend. Please.” She laughed, and I knew it was because she didn’t
consider Mason to be my best friend anymore. I hadn’t mentioned him in years;
the last time she’d brought him up, I blew up at her.
(“Oliver, sweetheart, you don’t want to invite Mason
to celebrate your birthday with us?” I was turning sixteen and I hadn’t talked
to Mason in nearly eleven months.
She knew something had been off between us, as Mason hadn’t
been to our house since I came out to him.
“It’s just another day,” I replied, feeling especially
mopey. “He’s probably busy anyway.”
“I could call Katerina,” she suggested. “If you boys
had a falling out, we can get things back on track. He’s been your best friend
since first grade.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t know how to navigate how I was
feeling. There was just so much shame and sadness that I hadn’t really taken
the time to unpack.
“Can you just shut up?” I demanded. “We aren’t friends
anymore, okay? It was my fault. There’s no way to fix it, so can you please
just drop it?” I stormed off to my bedroom after that. I spent the rest of my
sixteenth birthday alone crying in my bedroom. It was definitely a low. I knew
the only reason my mom didn’t come after me was because it was my birthday. If it
were any other day and I spoke to her like that, I’d probably be dead.)
“Oliver, we just can’t. You need to let his family
work out whatever problem they’re dealing with.”
“Mom, if—if he can’t stay, I’ll leave with him,” I
said, being dramatic.
“No, you won’t,” she replied, laughing. She was
calling my bluff.
“I will,” I said, trying my best to win her over. “We’ll
wander the streets, sleep in his Jeep. I might even have to become a prostitute
to scrape by. We’ll drop out of high school. Do some drugs. Is that what you
want Mom? I really don’t think it is.” I sounded like I was describing the plot
of some made-for-TV movie.
“Oliver,” my mother said with a theatrical groan, massaging
her temples. She obviously wanted to laugh at my monologue, which I knew would
play into my favor. “If Katerina and Adrian come to take him home, we aren’t going
to fight them on it, do you understand?”
She smiled at me gently. She was legit the best mother
in the entire world. She probably only relented because she had just gotten in
from work (and she’d had her bubble bath and a glass of wine). She worked as a
nurse during a shift that went from three until ten-thirty, and that was when
the hospital didn’t ask her to come in early or stay late.
“Yes, thank you!” I actually jumped for joy, clasping
my hands together in gratitude. “You won’t even notice that he’s here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “He needs to sleep in your room
because I don’t want him on my sofa. We just got that thing last year and the way
he’s looking, it’d be sunken in within the month.”
I just laughed, promising Mason would not be allowed anywhere
near her sofa. She likely assumed Mason was not gay. I knew right away that
Mason had been outed to his family, but I didn’t make that information privy to
my mother. When explaining why he needed to stay with us, I just sort of said
his dad was mad about him quitting the football team and putting on some weight.
I had been planning on telling her we were dating, but it was probably a good
thing I hadn’t mentioned it.
“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind the floor
for a little while.”
“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, walking towards where
her bedroom was on the first floor. The second floor was an addition, and the
only thing up there was my bedroom and a bathroom. “Mommy is tired. They want
me to come in early tomorrow, so you kids need to keep it down.”
“Yes, of course,” I replied. “Goodnight best mom in
the entire universe."
“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling under her
breath. “Tell Mason it was nice seeing him again.”
I made my way to the rear of the house and ran up the
stairs to my room. I closed the door quietly.
“She said you could stay here until you’re able to work
things out with your family.” I was smiling at him, but that excitement was
short lived. This wasn’t some slumber party. He was here because he couldn’t be
at home.
“Thank God,” he said with a sigh of relief.
“She said you have to sleep in here,” I said in
mock-apology. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll have to share a bed.”
“Well damn it,” he replied. “I guess if there’re no
other alternatives.” He got off of my bed and walked towards me. He put his
arms around me slowly and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him—which had
gotten considerably more difficult post-Thanksgiving. I kissed him a little bit
longer before pushing him away.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to cull my arousal.
We could not have sex right now. I felt weird about doing things like that with
my mom in the house. I totally wouldn’t be able to focus.
“Yeah, I don’t really want to think about it,” he
answered. “I’d rather make out with my boyfriend—among other things.”
“We have to wait until tomorrow, or my mom will hear
and freak out,” I said seriously.
We’d masturbated together a few more times since the
first experience in the kitchen. He’d given me head a few more times, and I reciprocated
that as well. But we hadn’t done the actual deed. With him living here for an
unknown amount of time, especially during winter break, we were likely going to
go all the way.
“We can be quiet,” he whined. I was so turned on by
the fact he enjoyed being intimate with me. Hearing him beg for it almost had
me relenting.
“It will be better tomorrow,” I said, walking over to
my laundry basket and throwing my shirt into it.
“Fine,” he pouted before smiling. “But don’t expect me
to let go of you all night.”
We got into the bed and he kept his promise. At least
for this night, the first time we ever were going to sleep together in the same
bed, he had me pulled closely into his beefy body. My full-sized bed was just
right, but at the rate Mason was growing, I didn’t think it would be just right
for long.
I knew he didn’t want to talk about what happened with
his dad, at least not yet, so we enjoyed one another in silence. Before long, I
could hear him gently snoring behind me. He was very warm and that made me feel
so calm, that before long, I was also fast asleep.
I was awake a little after six and immediately got up to
take a shower. Mason was still sleeping even after I finished my shower, so I
went to make him breakfast. I had made hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and
toast. He was still sleeping when I finished around nine.
I ate with my mom and she let me know she was going to
spend the morning shopping with my grandmother. She would be home this
afternoon to take a nap and get ready for work. After she left, I went to wake
up Mason.
He sat up quickly when I mentioned there was breakfast
waiting for him downstairs. He got out of bed. He was wearing a pair of gray boxer
briefs and a white undershirt. His thighs were huge and strong looking. His ass
was barely contained by the ash-colored fabric. His belly pushed the small
shirt up a bit, around his belly button. His arms looked massive, and I wanted
to grab ahold of them and never let go.
Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.
“You can use the bathroom and come down for breakfast,”
I said finally, regaining focus.
“Okay,” he said, sleepy eyed, scratching his tummy. He
went off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I heard the flush of the
toilet, then the sink turning on and off, and about five minutes later he
exited the bathroom, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. We made our way
downstairs.
Looking at the table, there was a ridiculous amount of
food for one person. Even with what my mother and I ate, there was way too much
for Mason. I’d used almost an entire bag of potatoes for the hash browns. I’d
have to get another carton of eggs, having used the ten that we had in the fridge.
The toast was buttered, and the bacon was crisp. I’d definitely been excited while
cooking, thinking with my dick and not my head.
“I realize now this is an excessive amount of food.”
“I didn’t get to eat dinner last night,” he said. “I’m
starving.”
He wasn’t kidding. He really was.
Mason tackled the spread like a competitive eater. He
took a piece of toast and carefully folded it in half before adding some of the
other ingredients, making a sort of taco. He did this until the eight pieces of
toast were gone. He then ate what was left of the eggs and hash browns with hot
sauce. He drank two big glasses of milk too. I didn’t realize how much he could
eat. I was sitting at the table across from him.
It was after breakfast. My mom wasn’t home. We could
finally have at it.
“You ate all of it,” I said, touching my boner
underneath the table. I was wearing a pair of running shorts that came about
halfway up my thigh. I was easily able to access my dick.
“Yeah,” he said, his face going red. “I didn’t have
dinner and I was really hungry and it tasted so good.” He placed his hands on
his belly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt,
failing to keep it down. Majority of his clothes had begun to fit this way. “I
guess you were wrong about the whole me getting fatter thing.”
“I was not wrong,” I said, standing. He took in my
massive erection and smiled, relief showing on his face.
“We really are a pair of sexual deviants, huh?” I walked
to his side of the table and grabbed his hand. He stood up, looking down at me
for a moment. He scooped me up and held me in his powerful arms. We looked at
one another for a moment. His eyebrows were so serious it made me laugh. He
joined in and we laughed hard for a few moments.
“I got excited,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re so excited. It means it’s not just
me.” Still in his arms, he made his way towards the stairs and ran us up to my
room.
In a flurry, our clothing items flew off our bodies.
His t-shirt, my shorts. My sweatshirt, his boxer briefs. We stood completely
naked in the middle of my bedroom, and it was all sort of
surreal.
“Oli, you’ve got a body like a porn star.”
“You may not be as defined as I am, but I’d much
rather see you in a porno.” He laughed.
“We could be in one together,” he said, joking. “It’d
be the only video I’d ever need for the rest of my life.”
I smiled at him, my hands on his waist. I enjoyed how
he’d begun to spread out. His gut hadn’t been like this back in October. He was
developing love handles, with little stretch marks around where his torso met his
hips.
My hands moved to his biceps and he flexed them for me.
My dick jumped at how solid his arms were, craving his body. “Do you want to
fuck me?” he asked.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
He nodded.
I grabbed a condom and lube from a box in my closet. I
didn’t think I’d ever get to use these things, and here I was about to use them
with Mason. He moved onto the bed and he put his ass out for me.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve seen a lot of porn,” I said truthfully,
almost half-regretting my honesty. “Have you ever had sex before?”
“No,” he said. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before I
kissed you.” I had made out with some guys before, but I didn’t want to spoil
how sweet that was. Something about this whole situation was kind of
empowering.
“I’ll be gentle,” I said, trying to be suave. Sure, I
had seen my fair share of pornography, but seeing something and executing
something were two very different things. I didn’t want to be bad at it. I was
always the passive, quiet one and I had to admit, I enjoyed the idea of being
the dominant one in the bedroom.
I lubed up my penis as well as his asshole. I slapped
his butt, enjoying the sound it made. I did it again and he gasped softly. He
arched his back a little, accentuating the size of his ass.
I entered his beautiful ass slowly. I started with
just the head, not wanting to hurt him. He was breathing loudly, but it didn’t sound
like he was in pain. I moved slightly, pushing a little more of myself into
him, and felt a tingle go throughout my whole body. Mason continued gasping and
whimpering and breathing loudly as I slowly pushed more and more of my dick inside
of him.
“Christ!” he yelped. I stopped moving.
“Do you need me to stop?” I asked.
“Fuck, Oli,” he said, panting. “It’s starting to feel
good. Keep going.” I did as I was told and bucked my hips back and forth, the
sound of my upper thighs slamming against his fat ass creating a sort of beat. About
halfway through he started tugging at his dick, moaning loudly as he came. That
did it for me, and after a few more strokes, I filled the condom with my cum.
I was sure if someone were watching it would have
looked awkward, but I didn’t care at all. I had never felt closer to a person.
I had never felt closer to Mason.
Actual sex was way better than masturbating.
“Are you okay?” I asked, removing the condom and
throwing it in my trashcan.
“That felt really good.” Mason was still panting. I
walked over to the bed where he was laying down and laid next to him. “I was
worried there for a second, but little Oli sure knows what he’s doing.” I
laughed.
“That was possibly the best experience of my life,” I
said. He rolled over on top of me, straddling me, and covered my face with
kisses. I loved it.
“How much do you weigh now?” I inquired, feeling his
weight pressing me down.
“Get the scale,” he said, swinging himself from on top
of me. I got off of the mattress and made my way to the bathroom. I got the
scale and set it in the center of my bedroom. He placed his large feet on the scale,
and I read the number.
“283 pounds.” In less than three months, Mason had
gained nearly sixty pounds. I was getting hard again just thinking about where
he’d be three months, six months, a year from now. I stepped on the scale next,
also getting off on how much more he weighed than I did. It read 160 pounds and
a little extra. 123 pounds. Mason was 123 pounds bigger than me.
“You’re fucking tiny,” he said in disbelief, looking
down at the number displayed on the monitor. “I never realized how little you
are." I turned my naked body to face him and gestured to my flaccid cock,
which admittedly, was still pretty big.
“I wasn't talking about that,” he said with a laugh. “I
haven’t weighed 160 pounds since the fifth grade.”
“Do you not like me being skinny?”
“I find your skinniness to be quite the turn on.” He
kissed me, grabbing my ass. “And if we’re being honest, you store all your
weight in just the right places.” I didn’t know why that made me so flustered,
but it did. I felt my face go hot. I liked that he thought I had a nice ass.
“I’d have to say the same goes for you,” I said.
“I hope to get much bigger,” he said, stepping back
from me. He flexed his arms and I felt myself getting hard again. He knew what
he was doing, turning me on. He turned around, so I could look at his wide back
and juicy butt. He was damn near a wall. He turned back around and looked at me
with extreme intensity.
“What’s with that look all of a sudden?”
“I want to be able to keep you safe, Oli. I’m going to
be big enough to protect you from everything.” I was so turned on again. He was
adorable.
“Thanks Mason,” I said, reaching out to embrace him.
We stood together for a few minutes before we took a shower and got dressed.
Throughout the day Mason ate all the snacks we had in the house. We went
shopping and stockpiled food in my bedroom. He didn’t want to let my mother
know he was constantly inhaling food. We did have to keep all the milk he got
in the fridge. I wondered what my mom would say about it. Two weeks of him
eating this way and he’d get huge.
Holiday break could only last the two weeks; I knew it
could only be two weeks, and yet the morning classes were to resume, I was an
anxious mess. Mason’s constant eating slapped another ten pounds onto his beefy
frame, putting him at 293 pounds. Everyone was going to notice. He was
gigantic. He was still incredibly muscular underneath his recent gain though,
only making him appear even wider.
The only time Mason was away from me was when he’d go
to meet with his uncle to lift weights. Galvin told Mason he didn’t care that
he was gay, and that Mason’s dad would come around soon. It meant a lot to Mason
that his uncle still supported him.
Mason’s arms were big and strong, and his thighs were
probably so large to hold up his massive bubble butt. His belly pushed up all
his shirts and buttoning pants was just a waste of time, so he wore sweatpants
and the biggest sweatshirt he could find. I felt bad. This day was going to be
bad. He looked good to me of course, but everyone was going to stir up trouble.
I didn’t want to go to school.
He drove us to school that morning and things were
fairly similar to the way they were before break. That’s not to say people weren’t
making comments, but there was nothing too out of the ordinary. Things were
actually bearable until lunch.
We sat together, eating lunch amidst the stares of our
nosy classmates. I had a fruit salad, some fries, a grilled chicken sandwich, and
a banana. Mason had bought three slices of pizza, fries, chicken tenders, and
three milks. It was like he didn't care about what was happening at all—all the
stares, all the names, the comments, and dirty looks.
“How are you doing this?” I asked, eating a few fries,
but not really feeling all that hungry. My stomach was in knots. He was already
on his second slice of pizza.
“Well, I mean you kind of move your mouth in a gnawing
motion after placing food in there. Like this—,” he said, taking a colossal
bite and chewing theatrically. I laughed loudly. He was so dumb sometimes, able
to make a joke that could distract me from my negative feelings. He smiled at
me and started on his chicken tenders.
“I meant all of the people,” I said, clarifying what I
was sure he knew I was originally referring to.
“I just don’t care,” he said seriously. “I wasted
three years of my life caring about what other people thought. It’s 2012. Being
gay shouldn’t be this big of an issue. I let other people tell me being gay was
wrong. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He gulped down his second milk,
nibbling at his remaining fries. His sweatshirt exposed a bit of belly as it
set in his lap. “I love you, Oli. I just think about that and I don’t even
notice everybody else.”
He loved me? I knew I loved him too, but we hadn’t said
it before.
“I think I’ll try that,” I said. “Thinking about how
much I love you.” I thought I was supposed to be the one thinking positive? I
was proud to call Mason my boyfriend.
I opened my banana and heard an increase in laughter.
I looked over at Bret pointing at me.
“You thinking about Mason’s dick?” he called, causing his
table to erupt in laughter again. I forgot not to get a banana. I hadn’t eaten
a banana at school since freshman year. I moved the banana away from my lips,
visibly distraught. It was so embarrassing being made fun of in front of Mason.
“Can I have that?” Mason asked as he smiled at me. I
handed him the banana. “Thanks.” He put it in and out of his mouth
suggestively, making a ridiculous face as well. He then shoved the whole thing
in greedily. He had me doubled over in laughter again. He was so absurd
sometimes. He chewed and drank the last milk.
“Mase, you’re so goofy.”
“Thanks. That was so good,” he said loudly, for
Bret and his cronies to hear. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. Was I
falling even more in love with him? He leaned back in his chair and patted his
stomach. “I’m still hungry. I think I got too used to you keeping me well-fed.
I’m going to get a cookie.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a bite out of my sandwich. I
felt better. Better than ever. I was almost done with my sandwich when Bret
came over. That positive feeling didn’t stand a chance.
“What’s up faggot?”
“I don’t care what you call me.” I stood, looking to find
Mason so we could spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. We could
study for English. Anything would be better than having to stay around Bret for
an extended period of time. Bret placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me
back into my seat.
“I don’t give a fuck what you care about.” I looked up
at him from my seat. He narrowed his blue eyes at me, making him look like a
rat. This guy really hated me. I stood up again and turned to walk away, kind
of afraid of what he was going to do to me. “I hate what you are. You did
something to Mason.”
“Like what?” I asked, turning to face him. Did he
think I was blackmailing Mason? Threatening him with violence? Casting love
spells?
“I don’t know.” He took a cupcake from a tray on a
neighboring table. He looked down at it for a moment, likely pausing for
dramatic effect, before he slammed it into my face. “But I don’t like it.”
I’d spent years dealing with this sort of treatment
from Bret, but for some reason this was actually getting to me. We were in the
middle of the cafeteria and nearly everyone was looking at us now. I wanted to
be strong. I wanted to take Mason’s words to heart. But he hadn’t experienced
just how awful I’d been treated. I warily scrapped some of the frosting from around
my eyes.
“Oh shit,” one of the girls nearby mumbled to the
friend she was sitting with.
I turned, watching as Mason made his way over to where
Bret and I stood. I saw his eyes travel from my face to Bret’s. Mason calmly
set his cookies on the table next to me and pushed up the sleeves of his
sweatshirt. The whole cafeteria was silent. It was like every sound had been magically
muted.
“Mason,” I said nervously, trying to pull him away
from Bret. “We need to go study for the Spanish quiz. We have to go now.” Bret
was no match for Mason, and everyone else was still too afraid to even try and
fight him. Mason was going to get in trouble. He used to get into fights all
the time. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him pummel other assholes.
Mason yanked his arm from my grasp easily. Everything
happened so fast, but I don’t think Bret landed a single blow on Mason. After
about three minutes, I saw Bret was all purple and bloody.
“Fucking bitch!” Mason spat, his voice intense like
the roar of a grizzly. The school security officers were coming. “You lay a
hand on my boyfriend again and you’re dead.”
“Come on!” I pulled his sweatshirt and he finally
stormed out.
“I should have killed him,” he said angrily, nostrils
flared. He was breathing heavily.
“Okay, so yeah, Bret’s the worst,” I started, picking
cupcake out of my eyebrows, “but I don’t think life in prison is going to solve
anything. It’s not worth it.”
“I know, you’re right,” he said, his breathing slowing.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt by him anymore.”
“By a cupcake?” I asked jokingly, trying to calm him
down further.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
He leaned against a row of lockers. This wasn’t going to
go unchecked by the school. They’d call his parents over this. He might even
get suspended.
“I forgot my fucking cookies!” he exclaimed angrily.
“I could totally make you some!” This side of Mason
was really hot, but I knew he wasn’t feeling great about the whole situation.
As sexy as angry-Mason was, I still preferred when he was happy.
“Let’s go.”
“Huh?” I asked, trotting behind him. He was making his
way towards the exit. We ditched Spanish and English. I had never ditched a
class before, and I felt like a fugitive.
He pulled up outside of my house.
“I’ll be back,” he said. I nodded and got out of the Jeep.
He drove off. I had never seen Mason so upset. I was pretty sure it had a lot to
do with what Bret represented. Bret was a past that Mason wanted to forget. I
knew Mason still struggled with guilt about how things had been between us the
last three years, and I tried to assure him I had let that stuff go, but I knew
he thought about it a lot. I didn’t know how to emphasize to him I wanted to
just move on. High school would be over soon, and I would get to start the
important years of my life. He had read an article about teen suicide in the
LGBTQ+ community a few weeks ago. He looked sick after he finished it. I
remember he looked at me seriously and said, “You could’ve killed yourself.”
Mason returned. He had gone to the gym. I looked at
him and saw his huge arms and thighs looked pumped. He went to my bathroom and
took a shower. I sat on the bed waiting. He exited the bathroom in a towel. His
belly hung over the pink fabric. He dropped the towel revealing a beautiful
ass. He looked so huge. Bret hadn’t stood a chance this afternoon.
I was always semi-erect around Mason but looking at
him naked in front of me had me fully hard. He walked over to me and sat next
to me on the bed. He leaned his body against mine. I could hear him breathing.
I felt him press into me bit by bit. He was kind of whimpering, like a big
Mastiff puppy.
“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” he said.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I placed my hand
on his monstrous thigh, squeezing it gently. “You stood up for me today, and
I’m still hard thinking about how hot it was.” He grabbed me, pulling me close
and passionately kissing me.
He ended up on his back in the bed and I ended up
giving him head. It was the least I could do for how he stood up for me. And
Mason couldn’t help himself, so I ended up getting head in return. But then I couldn’t
help myself and found myself with his dick in my mouth again. It was a cycle
that I didn’t really want to see broken.
That fight with Bret didn’t go unchecked by school
administration. Mason’s parents had to come have a meeting with the principal
and the dean. Both he and Bret were let off with warnings, but the school made
it very clear that they could not protect Mason from the law next time,
considering he was nineteen and Bret was only seventeen.
He moved back home after that, which was honestly kind
of sad. We’d only gotten to live with one another for less than a month. He and his father did finally start talking again, but Mason told me it was
strained conversation.
Nobody messed with us again until Valentine’s Day. In
our school there was a fundraiser where a person could purchase a flower to
send to a friend or crush or romantic partner. Of course, I had never gotten
one, but Mason used to get tons of them every year. I went to buy one and I
wrote a card for it. I wrote: Mason, I love you. Yours forever, Oliver.
I thought it looked sophisticated and mature. I paid
the two dollars, took the carbon copy receipt, and went to class. I wondered if he even thought about those stupid flowers. Then I wondered if
he got me one. I was getting all excited thinking about it, but I knew to keep my expectations in check.
I met him before first period. We were working when
the flowers were delivered. I didn’t expect one this period. They measured out
the number of flowers a person was to receive and equally distributed them
throughout the day. If a person were to receive only one rose, they’d get it
during their last period of the day. But I got one anyway, in first period,
which meant I had more coming. There was no name. It was a card with one word: Faggot.
Mason looked at me to see who it was from, but I quickly
put it in my pocket. “I hope you’re not cheating on me,” he joked, smiling at
me.
“Of course not!”
“Well, why can’t I see the card?”
“It’s mine,” I said. This was likely Bret fucking with
me again. I could not let Mason know about this. He might actually kill Bret
this time, and I didn’t very much think orange was Mason’s color. “Don’t be
mad.”
“I’m not,” he replied sternly, his eyebrows furrowed.
He was mad. Throughout the day I got the flowers with the same card. With each
one, Mason got more and more unnerved. I thought he was going to beat the shit
out of me. At lunch he didn’t say a word. He ate a lot extra so he wouldn’t
have to talk to me. I didn’t want him to see them. We couldn’t afford another
incident like when he beat Bret to a pulp over a cupcake. He’d go berserk if he
knew what was happening.
We walked to Spanish in silence. I got another card,
and it said the same thing, but with a name—Bret. Surprise, surprise. I knew it
was him. Nobody else would go so far to harass someone. Mason gave me a look of
death and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to go
home. English came and I got my first nice flower all day. It said: I think
you’re the best boyfriend in the world. Love, Mason.
I put that one in a separate pocket. Mason had gotten
his first flower, which I was assuming was the one I purchased for him. He scanned
it over and over. I hoped he liked it. Maybe it would make up for not showing
him the Bret cards. I looked up at him and smiled. He stood up and stormed out;
I followed. I heard Bret laughing as I entered the hallway.
“Mason! Wait up, what’s wrong? Mason!” He turned to
face me. I saw he was trying to think about what to do. He pushed me into a
locker, and it felt like he was getting ready to punch me.
“You—,” he started. He pulled out the card and read. “‘It’s
over, Mason. I’ve gotten you back for three years of absolute torment. Did you
really think I’d ever want to be with you, especially now? You’re a joke.’”
Mason hadn’t stopped growing since moving back home. He was up another ten
pounds, putting him at 303 pounds. I loved every ounce of him. I would never
send that. I hoped he’d be smart enough to realize that.
“Please don’t hit me,” I exclaimed, flinching. He didn’t.
Thank Jesus; he could have given me internal bleeding or something.
“I’d never put my hands on you,” he said angrily. Now
he was mad and offended.
“I would never send that,” I said, pulling out the carbon
copy receipt. “Look.” I handed him the card and he read it, looking relieved.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. He was getting
worked up. I had a bad feeling. “I knew you didn’t send this, and it still got
me emotional. I’m so sorry for pushing you. I’d never hit you. I swear I wouldn’t.
But those cards you’ve been getting all day have really fucked with my head.” I
reached into my pocket and handed him the cards. I hadn’t wanted him to see
them, but at this point I had to be honest.
“These are the cards I’ve been getting all day, okay?”
He read them and really went insane, heading for the exit.
“Mason, we’re going home, yeah?”
“Hell no. We are waiting for Bret and this is going to
end today. Oliver, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I might just kill
him.”
“You’ll get in trouble,” I said immediately. “No way.”
“Not if it’s after school.” That was ridiculous. He’d
so still get in trouble. We passed through the doors leading outside as the afternoon
announcements came on.
“You can’t do this Mason,” I said, trying my best to calm
him down. “You’ve got to let this go.” The bell finally rang and two minutes
later kids surged out of the building. He ran right at Bret who had been
describing what he had done to two of his own beta-males. Bret was knocked to
the ground.
Bret looked up at Mason from the ground. Mason was in
a t-shirt alone. We hadn’t stopped at our lockers. The sleeves in the underarm
area ripped with the advanced movement of his huge arms. Mason leaned over and
punched him, harder and harder.
He stood straight up, hovering over Bret who was still
laying on the pavement. “You ever fuck with us again, you’ll get your ass
kicked worse than this.” There was a group around us, which formed a circle.
Mason then spoke to them, turning every so often. It was almost like we were in
the Colosseum, Mason a gladiator orating to the spectators.
“I like men,” Mason began. “But don’t let that confuse
you. I can still fuck up anybody who steps to me or my boyfriend.” People were
hanging on his every word. It was amazing.
“And this bitch over here,” Mason continued, gesturing
towards Bret, “Has the weirdest fucking obsession with us. He went out of his
way to send my boyfriend flowers all day today. I guess you could say he has a
little crush.” This had people laughing now. “Babe, you should thank him for
the flowers, but do let him down easy.”
“Uh, thanks for the flowers,” I said, uneasy having
been put on the spot, but excited to be standing up to Bret in front of
everyone for the first time. “But I’ve already got a boyfriend, so maybe you
could find someone else.” The circled erupted in a resounding ‘Ohhhh!’ and
lots of laughter.
“So who started this?” Mason asked the bloodthirsty spectators.
“Bret!” the crowd shouted. “Bret! Bret! Bret!” Mason
started to walk off and I followed close behind him. The crowd parted so we
could pass. I had never wanted to fuck him more than now. We could still hear
people chanting and laughing as we made it to his Jeep.
Once inside, he drove towards my house, eyes focused
intently on the road. His stomach growled loudly. There was a slight pause
after the growling ceased, and then we both laughed loudly.
“Now I’m starving,” he said. I knew exactly what I wanted to make him.
As soon as we made it to my house, I started cooking. Mason
went off to take a shower, saying something about needing to cool off. The
whole situation with Bret still had him slightly heated. I was definitely still
wound up from that encounter too, but not in the same way as Mason. Just
thinking about how he’d stood up for the both of us had me soaking through my
briefs. I’d been hard for some time now, ever since Mason’s whole ‘Are you not
entertained?’ bit.
I cooked and cooked and cooked until I ended up making
much more food than I thought we needed. It was just the two of us, but I’d
made enough for five. I just couldn’t control myself when cooking for Mason. I
loved seeing how much he could put away, how pleased his face would be when he
ate an excessive amount of food.
I made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. It was a dumb concept
that I came up with back in middle school during the early days of my culinary exploration.
The main component was a mozzarella-stuffed chicken breast that I would deep
fry. I served it with macaroni and cheese. And, even though I knew it was
overkill, broccoli covered in a cheese sauce (I’d even made a dozen rolls, and
no, they weren’t cheese stuffed). It was a lactose-intolerant person’s worst
nightmare, but Mason had never had any problems with dairy. He probably
couldn’t go on living without it. I made five of those chicken breasts, a huge
serving dish worth of broccoli, and enough mac and cheese for a family of four.
About an hour later he came lumbering down the stairs.
I’d just finished plating the food, with parsley and everything. He sat at the
table, shirtless, and I took in his quarter-sized nipples. His pecs were still firm
but had a nice layer of fat over them. My mouth didn’t water when I thought
about dinner, but Mason’s tits had me almost drooling all over myself. I never
would have thought he would be this big. I set his plate and silverware in
front of him, and then the basket of rolls.
“I made too much,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” he said, smiling up at me from his
seat at the table, “especially since you made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special.”
I felt my face go hot. It meant a lot to me that Mason remembered the name of
this meal, but I needed to come up with a new one. Something that wasn’t so
embarrassing. I wasn’t twelve anymore.
“I’ll get you something to drink,” I said, walking
towards the fridge and pouring him a glass of milk.
“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time getting started. He didn’t
even use silverware to eat the chicken breast, simply picking it up and taking
a large bite, pulling the meat away from his mouth causing an impressive cheese
pull.
In this moment, watching him happily eat, I realized
that Mason hadn’t really changed all that much since we were younger. Yeah, he
was over a hundred pounds bigger and six inches taller, but he was still the
same silly, considerate, sometimes hot-headed guy I’d always had a crush on.
I must’ve been staring, because he looked up from his
plate, catching my gaze. He stopped racing through the food on his plate,
eating more slowly.
“What’re you staring at?” he asked, chewing, stabbing
a broccoli floret with his fork. “You haven’t even started eating yet.”
“I just really love you,” I said honestly. “I can’t
help staring.”
“C’mon Oli,” he said, his face reddening, “You’re just
trying to embarrass me.”
“I’m not!”
“Well, I love you too,” he said, his face still flushed.
“I’m really lucky, you know? Who’d ever think a guy like you would be
interested in me.”
Whoa—Mason was always surprising me. My initial
assessment wasn’t completely fair to him. Mason had changed. In a way
that was really significant.
He’d become more courageous.
He was brave enough to come out, to date me, to change
his body in a way that wasn’t considered conventionally attractive. Even if all
the things I loved about him from our youth were the same, I was fortunate
enough to be able to love the man he was becoming as well.
I stood, going to refill his plate. He ate this
serving just like the first, like if he didn’t get it all down fast enough
someone might come and take it away. I sat down and watched, picking at the
portion I’d set aside for myself. I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea how he
ate so much. He’d eat a roll every so often. I was able to refill his plate
once more, and he ate that with the same amount of gusto. He got up the excess
cheese that remained on the plate with the last roll.
“Fuck, that was just as good as I remembered.” He
leaned back, placing his hands his belly, rubbing it gently.
“Can—uh, can I do that?” I asked. He grinned.
“You don’t gotta ask,” he said, turning in the chair away
from the table. He spread his legs, waiting for me. I went to the other side of
the table as he pushed away from it. I knelt on the ground and rubbed his bloated
gut, my hands traveling to his sides so I could squeeze the love handles pushed
up by his underwear.
I moved toward his broad chest, squeezing the flesh
there as well. Fuck, there was just so much of him. He was only wearing underwear,
so I saw he was getting hard. I leaned forward, and began to kiss his belly, licking
around his navel. His stomach tensed and relaxed.
“You like this gut?” he asked, his eyes closed.
“I love this gut,” I replied. His dick jumped in his
underwear.
He stood, pushing me back slightly. I looked up from
beneath his belly, and it made me think about that day at the bike racks a few
months ago. I’d thought of him as a giant then, but compared to what I was
looking at now, that version of Mason was minuscule.
Mason removed his dick from his boxers, and I leaned
forward, resting my mouth at the base of his penis above his balls. I inhaled
deeply, taking in the smell of his skin after a shower. I licked his shaft
slowly, raising a hand to feel the heft of his belly above me. It didn’t need my
support, as it was a solid sphere that hadn’t gotten large enough yet to droop.
I thought about that phrasing and it sent me to another level of arousal. Large
enough yet. Mason would likely be bigger than this soon. 300 pounds was the
point where most guys would fight to get their waistlines in check, but I knew Mason
didn’t care about that. He’d want more, and I wanted to help him.
I heard him moaning above me, one of his hands grabbing
my hair, the other on the side of his gut. “Fuck, Oli,” he grunted. “You’re
gonna make me cum.”
I stopped and stood up.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.
He agreed to head up to my room, but he couldn’t stop himself
from kissing me ravenously first. He loved kissing, and I definitely wasn’t against
it, but we hadn’t moved yet. Mason was still kissing me. On my neck. My forehead.
My cheeks. He reached for his penis, but I stopped him.
“Upstairs,” I reiterated.
He nodded. His eyes had that glazed over look again.
He followed me to the staircase, and as I ascended, I heard the stairs creaking
loudly as he heavily padded up after me.
I wanted to fuck him with all I had. Each time I
wanted more and more to have the best sex ever, and each time it was the best
sex ever. I didn’t know if it was because we were getting better at it or the
fact that our relationship was becoming so much more serious, but whatever it
was, I hoped it continued.
He pulled off his boxers and leaned over my desk, his beefy
forearms resting on top. His strong legs were spread apart, and his knees were slightly
bent. In this position, his stomach seemed more noticeable. It hung down, round
and bloated. I wanted to cradle it in my hands from behind.
I slid on a condom and carried the lube over to where
he was waiting for me. I covered my dick in the slick substance before gently
massaging his hole. “I’m ready,” he breathed. “I want it, Oliver.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed onto one of
his love handles as led my member inside of him. This ass was everything. I’m
pretty sure he worked it out extra hard because he knew I loved it so much. Seeing
my hands cradling his meaty cheeks was unreal. I didn’t have abnormally large
hands, but he had such a massive ass, they looked almost feminine. I pushed my
entire dick inside of him, thrusting back and forth more forcefully than I had
before. He moaned and moaned—saying my name, telling me how good it felt. I
felt the tingle I came to expect wash over me. I wasn’t sure if it was
endorphins or what, but I was close to finishing and feeling amazing.
He took a sharp intake of breath, shooting cum across the
front drawers of my desk. I pushed hard a few more times. I’d never felt so
good before. I came loads, my legs turning to jelly for a few moments, almost causing
me to lose my balance. “Aw, fuck,” I managed to get out, grabbing his
hips gently.
We moved over to the bed and laid back. His belly
moved up and down.
“That gets better and better,” he panted.
“I was thinking the same thing.” He rolled over on top
of me. I loved that, the weight of his fat body pressing into me. It was
incredible. He just laid there, kissing my face and neck until I had to tap out.
He rolled back over, smiling.
The next thing I remember was waking up. We’d fallen
asleep. It was now around eight. I tried to shake him awake.
“Mason,” I said. “Mason wake up.”
“Five more minutes,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.
“Mason,” I laughed, “You can’t stay here. Your parents
will wonder where you are.”
“I don’t wanna get up,” he said into a pillow. “Let
them wonder.”
“But our homework,” I said half-heartedly, also not in
the mood to complete any schoolwork or send him on his way. I got up and
checked my assignment book. Nothing was due tomorrow. I locked my door and got
back in the bed. He turned so I could place my head on his chest. He had his
arm wrapped around me. I could have stayed like that forever.
Mason dozed back off almost immediately, but I laid
awake thinking.
We only had a couple of months left in senior year. I’d
gotten into my first-choice university and all of my safety schools, but there
was definitely something that had me reconsidering going away to a four-year
university. I didn’t really have any idea of what I wanted to major in. Nothing
in the traditional sense was appealing to me. I didn’t want to be a teacher or
a lawyer or a nurse.
Being with Mason reignited a passion that had laid
dormant for years. I loved being in the kitchen and perfecting different
recipes. Attending culinary school might be what I want to do post-graduation. It
might have been youthful optimism, but I could see myself one day owning a restaurant.
Mason was going to the college thirty minutes from
where we lived. I knew there was a program near him that was accredited and
offered lots of opportunities for growth. I could feel myself getting excited by
this idea. I hadn’t even been this excited opening up my college acceptance
letters. This passion had to mean something. It just had to.
I could do it. I would do it! I’d always longed for a
life outside of high school, and now I was starting to see that life more clearly.
Even if the future was a mixed bag of possibilities, I knew one thing for
certain.
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Mason.
The End!