Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Teacher's Pet

“Abbot,” he stated in his deep roll-call voice. The way he said my last name sent shivers down my spine. His voice was authoritative, yet calm. I’d do anything he told me to.

"Here," I said excitedly, raising my hand so he could see me, even though I was in the front row. I could tell he smiled at me.

"Anderson," he continued.

"Here," Harold Anderson said sleepily.

English was the best 50 minutes of my day. I knew all the material, wrote really good essays, and enjoyed analyzing whatever the assigned readings were. The icing on the cake would have to have been Mr. Beckham. He was a younger teacher, at 24, and a graduate of St. Josephine's School for Boys. That was where I went to school; I was a senior.

Mr. Beckham began to discuss the book we'd be reading next. It was a classic text, considered a part of the standard high school literary canon. William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying was a novel known for its stream of consciousness style of prose and multiple narrators. I had read some of his short stories for my English project last year, and I definitely was not looking forward to this novel. Faulkner, in my opinion, was a total snooze fest.

I watched as he continued to highlight themes we should be aware of while reading. Looking at Mr. Beckham talk was wonderful and it never bored me. He had stubble and most often wore sweaters over button down shirts. His khakis hugged his legs in a sexy way. He had a nice butt too. I hated to say I looked at it, but when he wrote on the chalkboard I could barely take notes. The way his hips swiveled with each letter he wrote, his butt cheeks stretching the khaki fabric taut. I could tell he’d put on a little bit of “adult weight” following his time in college. His face a little fuller than in the yearbook picture I’d found of him in the alumi library, his stomach protruding a little more than when he rocked a St. Jo’s football jersey.

"Well guys, my time is almost up." He glanced over at the clock. There were only two minutes left until lunch. I would’ve totally taken another class with him if he taught an elective. I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself if I had him for more than one period a day.

"Ugh, I bet we have homework,” one of my classmates groaned from the back of the room.

"Yeah, Ken, we do," Mr. Beckham said, rolling his eyes at Ken’s laziness. I took out my assignment pad, pen posed to catch the prompt. "You are to write a two-page essay on why you think Faulkner uses stream of consciousness in his writing. You need two sources.” Easy. "If anyone needs help, I'll be here until four after school." The bell rang. I gathered up my books and headed to lunch.

I was standing in the lunch line, craving fries with loads of ketchup. I was stressed about my language class, which would be directly after lunch. I noticed Mr. Beckham was in line too. He had the lunch special, a pretty big plate of penne pasta and meat sauce. It also came with two breadsticks.

I walked to the register to pay for my fries and Mr. Beckham walked up behind me. I could feel his presence behind me and it was making me hard. I couldn’t believe how riled up he made me. "That's all you're getting Ethan?" he asked. I turned to face him. I wanted him to take me in the lunch line, to make an honest man out of me.

I had to remember we were at school and he was my English teacher. He’d probably get fired and that’d suck.

"Oh, yeah,” I said. “I'm not all that hungry."

"That wouldn't even fill me up a fifth of the way." I laughed. Mr. Beckham was taller than me. He was around 6'3" and maybe 220 pounds. He had played football here, and he had mentioned offhandedly in class before that he played in college too. The line moved and I walked forward to fill in the gap. “I scarf down my sack-lunch right after you guys leave my room and have to come grab food from here. Teaching makes me hungry, I guess,” he said with a laugh. Try as I might to stifle my hard-on, I could feel myself getting a full-fledged erection.

"Uh, that—that book sounds really good," I lied, trying to kill my arousal. If anything was a turn-off, it was Faulkner.

"Yeah, I've read it multiple times. I think you'll enjoy it." He smiled, his slight double chin becoming more prominent. I already knew I’d hate it, but for Mr. Beckham I’d make it my new favorite book.

"I do too." It was my turn in line. I paid the dollar fifty.

"See you later, Ethan," he called as I walked towards the sitting area.

"Se—see you later, Mr. Beckham!" I went to go sit down. I was praying nobody noticed how hard I was.

After school I packed my bag and ran up to Mr. Beckham's room. I was going to talk to him about my paper. It was two forty, and we had just gotten out five minutes ago. "Hi, uh, I'm here about the paper." He laughed. "Oh, am I, uh, too early?"

"No, it's just that—you weren't someone I was addressing when I arranged this. You're probably my best student." I could suck his dick right here. That’s all I could think about. Then I’d really be his best student. I took a deep breath.

"Oh, well, uh—," I said, unsure of what to say. My face was so hot. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You can stay. Although I'm not sure I can help you with much. I'm sure your essay will be perfect."

"Thanks." The heat my face was experiencing intensified. I sat in a chair next to him at his desk and we began to talk about the essay. Funnily enough, that lasted only about ten minutes, before the discussion turned to other things. Once four-thirty rolled around, we realized nobody else had shown up. I thanked him and went out to my car.

Late that night I printed my essay and went to bed. I was pretty tired because it was after two. I had finished the essay and my other homework at around midnight, but I’d spent nearly two hours masturbating, my encounters with Mr. Beckham and my sexual fantasies creating more than enough content to get me off five times.

It had snowed last night. I hoped my car would start.

It did.

I drove to school and went to my locker. "Ethan, did you finish that essay for Mr. Beckham?" Harold, a guy in my class, asked me.

"Yeah, you?" I asked. Of course I finished the essay. I was Mr. Beckham’s best student, after all. 

"No." He laughed. "I'm just going to turn it in late."

"Oh." We didn't say anything else. I should have said something more than oh, but I struggled interacting with my peers. I think it was because I was such a serious person. I was the type to complete assignments on time, and even get a head start on things that weren’t even due yet. "See you later," I called as he walked away. Awkward. I wouldn't say I had that many friends. People liked me; it was just that they weren't people I'd hang out with over the weekend.

In English class, everyone who had completed their essays turned them in. I hoped I could live up to his expectations of me. He had never told me I was his best student before. I smiled at the thought, at the way he said it—at how warm those words were.

I was very much lost in thought. I saw Mr. Beckham pushing all of his desk’s contents to the floor before picking me up and laying me across it. We’d both fumble at my belt and the button on my uniform slacks, he’d laugh. Then he’d say something sexy like, I need that tight ass right now, Ethan.

"Ethan?" I jumped at hearing my name. The room was empty, aside from Mr. Beckham.

"Um, yes," I said as I sat up. I had been daydreaming. I thought I had been straddling the fence of reality and fantasy rather well, but I had completely lost myself to my lust.

"Class is over, time for lunch," Mr. Beckham said with a slight grin.

"Oh, thank you." I gathered my books and made my way to my locker, my dick hard and straining against my pants.

The lunch special today was a plate of nachos. I got a burger and a bag of chips. I saw Mr. Beckham with an extra large helping. Did the lunch ladies give him extra? I bet it was because they thought he was cute. I know I did. If I worked behind the lunch counter he could come back for seconds and thirds, free of charge.

"Hi, Mr. Beckham," I said as we once again turned to one another in the lunch line. He stood in front of me today. "We seem to be in sync." He laughed and I was getting hard again.

"Ethan, I read your essay before I came to get my lunch, and it was a wonderful read as always." I wanted him so badly. I needed to hurry up and graduate because I couldn’t handle lusting after him like this anymore.

"Thanks. It means a lot," I said honestly. We were silent for a moment, waiting for our turns at the register. This short time with him meant so much to me, and I really didn’t want it to end. I didn't really have anyone to sit with at lunch, maybe he didn’t either. "Where do you eat your lunch?" I asked, realizing it was probably in the teacher's lounge. Was I getting too personal? I was, I just knew I was.

"My classroom,” he said, pursing his fleshy lips slightly. “Would you care to join me?" he asked, looking down at me. Internally I screamed, somersaulted with joy.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I tried to say nonchalantly. We’d be alone in his classroom. I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn’t going to try anything, but the more time I spent with him, the more footage I had for late at night when I jacked off to thoughts of his thick frame and unintentionally sexy aura.

"That is, if your friends don't mind me taking you for the day." He could take me anywhere he wanted to.

"I don't really sit with anyone," I said as he paid the $3.50 for the nachos.

"No?” he said in a way that felt as if he already knew that. “Then you can always eat lunch with me." I smiled. "We can talk about books." He had said books over-enthusiastically.

"Okay." I paid for my food and we walked to his classroom. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I could actually eat lunch with him. Wouldn't it be something if he was gay? Wouldn't it be something if we could be together? I had turned eighteen last month, in November.

We walked and I watched his body as we navigated the hallways. His steps were heavy, and I could feel each time his foot hit the floor. He had the biggest thighs I’d ever seen and I couldn’t help but glance at his butt shifting back and forth as he lumbered about. I wanted to bury my face in-between those meaty cheeks. I could feel myself salivating.

When we finally made it to his room I could already tell I was pre-cumming through my briefs. This man had an effect on me like no other. He was making me feel reckless. I could tell my teenage hormones were throwing my practical decision-making skills out the window. I sat next to him, like yesterday when we worked on my essay. I watched him eat his lunch as I munched on my burger half-heartedly. I was not hungry. I was horny.

I hadn’t realized Mr. Beckham could eat so much. It was incredible. I could’ve never finished such a large portion of nachos. It was weird, but I really enjoyed watching him eat. I’d known that bigger guys were a facet of my sexuality, but this was new. I wanted Mr. Beckham bigger. I wanted him well fed. If Mr. Beckham ate so much, how was he not bigger than he was now? It was probably because he worked out. He had the muscles to prove it. I ate my chips and we talked. The bell rang, and it felt almost out of nowhere.

“I’ll see you later, Ethan,” Mr Beckham said as he stood up, his stomach bloated from his large lunch. He wore a navy sweater over a white dress shirt. I wanted to peel off the layers and get a better look. I wanted my hands all over his thick, fleshy body. “Today was fun.” He gave me a slight wink and that alone would give me a powerful orgasm when I thought about it once I got home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, smiling at him like a dope. I finished off the day on cloud nine. I didn’t think anything could ruin it—until my car wouldn't start.

That was just great. I lived a good thirty minutes away. I could’ve called my mom, but she'd have to leave work early and my dad was so busy I didn't even know if he came home at night. But hey, my car was old. I felt my head hit the steering wheel. It was freezing out today. I heard a knock on my window.

"Ethan, you all right?" Mr. Beckham asked. I opened the door and he stepped back. I got out and stood by the door.

"Yeah, it's just that my car won't start." I gestured toward my awful, beat-up excuse for transportation. My parents could afford to buy me a new one, they just wouldn't. I didn’t even expect them to pay for the whole thing. I had a decent amount saved up from my summer job.

"I'll take a look at it if you'd like," he said.

"That would be great. I don't really know much about cars."

"Well, to be honest—I don't know much either." He smiled.

"Oh, well then." I laughed. It was funny. He started to laugh too, and it made the situation a little more bearable.

"If you'd like, I'll gladly give you a ride home." In his car—the two of us—together. Was that even legal? I didn’t care. It would take every fiber of my being to not suck his dick.

"Yeah, that'd be great." I grabbed my bag and locked my car. I'd get it later. I was getting a ride from Mr. Beckham. He drove a two-door truck; it was red—a dark, almost burgundy red.

I was wearing my hat with a poof-ball on top. I stuffed it into my pocket. My mother told me to wear a hat that morning and it was the first one I grabbed. I sat in the passenger’s seat. I could see my breath and I could tell my nose was very red.

I told him my address and he drove. We usually had conversation that flowed so easily, but I was so nervous. Being alone with him in school was one thing, but being alone with him in his truck felt so entirely different. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. But why would he be?

He stopped in front of my house. He killed the engine. We sat for a moment. "Thanks for the ride Mr. Beckham," I said. We’d barely even spoke, aside from me giving the occasional direction.

"No problem, Ethan." He shifted his body to face me. "When we’re not in class, you can call me Jude." He had the most gorgeous eyes. They were a light, almost golden, brown. He was leaning towards me. "You really are my best student." He smiled. Oh my god. It was what I had been dreaming about, what I had been wanting since August.

"Thanks, you're my—my favorite teacher." He was chewing cinnamon flavored gum. I wanted to taste his breath so badly. I wanted his tongue in my mouth.

"How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen," I said in a small voice. I was so excited. Was this flirting or friendliness?

"Eighteen," he repeated, his deep voice lingering in my mind.

"Yeah, I turned eighteen in November."

He kissed me.

His lips were soft and the slight amount of facial hair he did have tickled. I had only kissed one other person, and that was in sixth grade. Her name was Chanel. I thought I was in love with her. But Chanel had nothing on Mr. Beckham. He was so experienced. I felt his breath mix with mine and our tongues explored each other’s mouths. I knew my lips must've been freezing, but his were so warm. I liked Mr. Beckham so much. I did, I really did. Here I was kissing him.

"Ethan, I'm sorry," he said as he pulled away, too soon. I could still taste a little bit of the cinnamon. "You're just a kid, my student."

"I'm not a kid Mr. Beckham. I—I'm eighteen," I protested, hurt and confused. What was I to say? I was his student and he was my teacher and even if he was sexy as fuck that didn’t change anything.

"Maybe you should go," he said. I could tell he was worried. I didn’t want to put this pressure on him.

"But, Mr. Beckham, I—okay. Than—thanks again for the ride," I said as I stepped down from his truck.

"Don't mention it."

"I won't." I thought he meant the kiss, but realized he was talking about the ride. Maybe he meant both. He probably meant both.

He pulled off and I went into the house. My face was flushed. My heart was beating so fast. My ears were so cold. I should have grabbed a different hat.

I went into my room and realized what had just happened. I kissed him, and he could get into trouble for that. I didn't mean for anything like that to happen. I’d have to talk to him tomorrow. We just needed to get on the same page and things would be fine.

He didn’t show up the next day, or the day after that. I was beginning to think he quit. It was honestly stressing me out immensely.

My parents ended up buying me a new car. They tried to get my old one repaired, but it was no saving it. My new car wasn't much of a step up either, aside from the fact that it actually ran. They got the new one because the salesman said it would be reliable in winter. No more rides with Mr. Beckham.

"Merry Early Christmas, honey," my mother said as she handed me the keys to my new car, my new old car. At least I didn’t have to give up my savings. "There's something your father wants to tell you." She quickly shuffled behind him. It was bad news. My parents were about the same height, with my mom being taller than the average woman.

"We'll be going to Florida—me, your mother, and Molly." Molly was my sister, she was a freshman at St. Jo's sister school, Mother Mary Sacred Heart Academy. That was seriously the actual name.

"And I'm not going because?" They’d actually done this very thing before. They'd gone to France for a whole summer. They went to Hawaii when I went to stay with my grandparents over Spring Break.

"This is serious business,” my father said, no sympathy in his voice. “Molly is in a holiday volleyball tournament." I was still not too sure why I couldn't go. He could tell that I was getting upset. "You wouldn't have any fun, Champ. We’re just going to be sitting in a gym, and her team is really good, so we might be in there all break."

"Thanks for leaving me out." I looked at Molly. I really loved my sister. It was just that—she was taller than me and better at sports and it really showed that my dad favored her. She frowned in my direction and I knew I couldn’t blame her for this.

"If you really want to go," my father began. This was where I had to say that I didn't want to go.

"No, no. Have fun. I've always wanted to spend Christmas by myself."

"Really?” he asked in sincerity. He was never really any good at identifying sarcasm. “Then it all works out then."

"Yeah dad, it does." I was already bummed about Mr. Beckham, and now I was bummed about the holidays. I just couldn’t catch a break.

Mr. Beckham didn't return until three days before Christmas break. That was a whole week after what happened. It was also about a week after I found out my family was leaving me behind for Florida.

I was glad he was back. I had been having a miniature breakdown. I hoped he didn't hate me now. I'd be fine if things just went back to the way they were. I didn’t need to eat lunch with him, or even have conversations with him. I could be content watching his butt as he wrote on the chalkboard.

"Okay guys,” he said, facing the class. He was looking sturdy. It looked like our kiss hadn’t slowed his appetite. Maybe he was a nervous eater. He’d let his facial hair grow out a little more, in what I assumed to be an attempt to camouflage his developing double chin. “I hope the sub had you all begin the readings, chapters one through six."

"Yeah, it sucked!" Ken shouted from the back of the classroom. For once, I agreed with Ken.

"Oh, a real page turner!" I heard Charles say sarcastically behind me. I chuckled at his sarcasm; Mr. Beckham looked at me seriously. I could feel myself turn to stone.

"Guys, you have to focus on the relationships amongst the characters. It’s what drives the novel."

"It's still bad Mr. B," Ken replied.

"Well, we're still reading it." Charles and Ken groaned simultaneously. Mr. Beckham lectured about the chapters we were to have read for the rest of the period, and the look he’d given me made me so anxious that I could hardly focus. He hated me now.

The bell rang. Lunch was starting and I got up to leave. I felt sick the more I thought about Mr. Beckham. I didn't know what ever made me think our relationship would be anything more than a fantasy. I always assumed he was straight. I was pretty sure people could kind of tell I was gay. It wasn’t like I was the manliest of guys.

"Ethan, I'm going to have to see you for a moment." My heart stopped beating. I had stopped in the doorway. I turned around and reentered the classroom.

"What is it, Mr. Beckham?" I asked tentatively. He waited for the last straggler to make his way out of the room before he closed the classroom door. I wanted to make a break for it. I would have to start ditching his class. Maybe next semester I could be in another teacher’s class.

"I was thinking about what happened." I felt my stomach tighten. What was he going to say? Was he angry? Did he hate me now? "You are eighteen. You’ve only got a few months left here."

"Yeah, and—and I don't want to get you in any trouble." I was standing with my shoulder parallel to the chalkboard. "I'm really sorry." He stood up and walked closer to me. He smelled like a man. I felt my back press against the chalkboard as I turned to face him. He was so close.

"You didn't do anything. I kissed you." He kissed me again, a quick one.

Something I had never expected to experience ever again.

"Mr. Beckham," I said in disbelief. I put my fingers up to my lips, to make sure they had just been kissed a second time.

"Ethan," he said softly, pressing his body against mine. His stomach was firm, but definitely far from flat. His hand was on my waist and I liked the size of it, and how warm it was. I could feel the heat radiating through my blazer. His hand moved down my side and he grabbed my butt firmly. I was so hard I couldn’t stand it. I was worried I’d cum in my pants, and that’d be the lamest thing I’d ever done.  

"I—I—," I started, realizing I had nothing to say.

"Do you like me Ethan?" he asked gently. "If not, you must think I'm a perverted, old man."

"C’mon, Mr. Beckham. You’re not old," I said hastily. He laughed.

"Older than you."

"I don't care," I said. I didn’t. I started to feel bubbly. I couldn’t believe this was happening and I really didn’t even know what to think.

"Oh really?" he asked in his Mr. Beckham sort of way.

"Really." He laughed.

"You're late for lunch. We can talk again after school." He gave my ass another firm squeeze and walked me to the door. I felt tingly all over. Compared to the start of the school year, Mr. Beckham was definitely carrying a little extra weight. At the thought of him grabbing my ass I couldn’t believe I hadn’t taken the opportunity to grab his juicy backside in return.  

I skipped lunch; it was no way I was going to be able to eat. Did I even go to class the rest of the day? I couldn't remember. I ran up to his room as soon as I got my things out of my locker. He was sitting at his desk, eating a package of cookies.

He saw me and smiled. My stomach did a somersault. I closed the door to his room and walked over to his desk. He finished the last cookie and stood up. He was so much bigger than me.

I felt my face get hot. I was so not dreaming. I could see him in front of me, so close. I could smell his cologne. His face would be in my memory forever.

"Glad to see you, how was your day?" he asked.

"It was good." He walked closer to me, even closer than he had been. He was so close his slight belly pushed into me. I liked it.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, looking down at me. I laughed. He smiled.

"Yeah, I did," I said nervously. I could feel my hands shaking, but I’d regret it forever if I didn’t touch his butt. “But I missed this most of all,” I said, firmly grasping a cheek in each of my hands. It was gigantic. I couldn’t believe he had so much ass. My hands held generous portions, but there was so much more there. With his body pressed against me I could feel he was getting hard. His penis swelled and I could only imagine its true girth, free from the confines of his khakis.

"Let's go,” he said, and I could tell he was turned on. I couldn’t believe he was turned by me.

"Okay." I pulled my hat, a plain navy blue one, out of my coat pocket and put it on. He grabbed his coat and bag and we made our way to the parking lot.

I got into my car and, thankfully, it started. I saw him pull out of the parking lot and I followed. I was freaking out again. I didn't even ask where we were going. I drove in silence, playing out scenarios in my head of what would happen. I wanted him so badly it hurt. My dick actually ached he made me so hard.

He pulled in front of a house twenty minutes later. I parked behind him. We both got out and I walked up to him. I almost slipped on a patch of ice but he caught me. I was starting this encounter off terribly. He’d see I was just some dumb high school senior.

He opened the door and we went inside. It was his house. I got a bit afraid I'd see a picture of his wife and kids or something, but he never wore a wedding ring.

"I like your house." He smiled.

"I'm glad you like it." If it were a movie, it would definitely be the part where I found out Mr. Beckham was a crazy, murdering rapist. I counted to ten. I had to chill out. I had to be cool.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

"Whatever you want to," he said reassuringly.

"Can we just talk?" I asked. “Just for now.”

"Of course," he said. He pulled his sweater over his head. "Let me go change first." He walked off towards a bedroom and I followed. I wanted to see him change clothes.

His house was kind of small, but it made sense if it was just him. For one or two people, it was actually pretty spacious. I sat on the bed, taking in my surroundings.

He unbuttoned his shirt. He had on a white tank underneath and he removed that as well. He had a small amount of hair around his navel and on his chest. He was pretty muscular, but had a small belly. I wanted to lick him, an impulse that was not new. I bet he tasted incredible. He unbuttoned his khakis and I saw he wore boxer briefs. I knew it. He just seemed like that kind of guy. His large thighs held up his meaty, bubble butt.

I had changed my mind, forget about talking. If he wanted to fuck, we could fuck. He sat on the bed next to me and pulled off his socks. His belly spilled into his lap a bit. He pulled my hat off, which I forgot I was wearing. I then pulled off my bulky coat. He stood up again and went over to a drawer. He pulled off his underwear, his ass towards me, and pulled on a pair of sweats.

I pulled off my uniform blazer and loosened my tie. “So, winter break is coming up,” I said. “What’re your plans for the holidays?” I saw how his meaty pecs rested on his gut. I wanted his nipples in my mouth so I could tease them with my tongue.

“I’ll be alone this year,” he said. “I’m an only child and my parents are going on a cruise.”

“My family is going to Florida for my sister’s volleyball tournament, so I’ll be going it alone myself.”

“Maybe we could spend it together,” he said with a laugh.

“You’re joking, but I’d love to make you dinner.”

“Trying to win my heart, eh?” He focused his eyes on me and we looked at each other intensely. “Come here,” he said in a deep, low voice. I moved closer to him. He kissed me, and my hand found itself on his stomach. It felt so good, solid. “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded and he began to unbutton my dress shirt. I pulled off my tie. My body was thin, sure, but I was proud of the slight muscularity it possessed.

He kissed my neck, and his facial hair tickled slightly. “That feels good,” I moaned. He kissed me some more, moving down my body slowly, licking me every so often. I was fully erect, and his hand rested on the front of my slacks, atop where my penis sat. He rubbed it slightly, through the fabric.

He took his thick fingers and undid the button. He pulled at my pants, and then at my briefs. My dick bobbed freely before resting against my stomach. He pushed me back, so I was lying flat on my back on his mattress. He continued to kiss my neck as he slowly began to stroke my penis. His hand felt so big, and it was so warm. I wanted to last a long time. I didn’t want to cum too quickly.

He continued to stroke it and I was really enjoying it. “You like that, don’t you?” he teased. “You’re probably about to cum any second.” He kept at it, stroking my dick a few more times before I came all over my stomach. I felt so drained. He stopped kissing my neck and went towards my dick. He put the head in his mouth, lapping up the remnants of my ejaculation. That was enough to get me excited all over again  

After that I got cleaned up, and put my uniform back on. I gave him my address again and we exchanged cell numbers. I couldn’t believe that we’d just done that. It was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I couldn’t wait to spend Christmas with him. I had never been so happy to be left out by my father.

"Bye Mom! Good Luck Molly! Goodbye Father." My dad and I looked at one another and I could tell he was upset with me. I didn’t care. I was about to have the greatest holiday break in the history of holiday breaks. I helped them load the car, wanting them gone as soon as possible. They pulled out of the driveway and down the street. I closed the door and ran up to my room.

I remembered when we'd get a tree for Christmas, a real one. I loved that; I loved being with my family, but it was like I was a puzzle piece that didn't fit. I couldn't help feeling sad. I was left out again, but then I remembered my holiday plans again. I smiled and was once again grateful I was not included.

I grabbed the money they left for me; it was a lot of money. I knew it was so I wouldn't feel bad, and to be honest it did make me feel better. I once again didn’t have to dip into my own savings.

I went to the grocery store and bought enough food for six people. I didn't know what I was thinking; it was just that I had the money and I wanted to make sure Mr. Beckham—Jude—enjoyed spending his holiday with me. I felt my face get hot thinking about him and went to the checkout.

It took three trips from my car to bring in all the food. He'd be over Christmas Eve. I made sure all the food was stored properly and ran back out to my car. I drove to the mall. I had to get Jude a present.

I looked and looked for something that spoke to me. I needed something cool and that’d help him see me as more mature. I ended up browsing in a clothing store, and before I realized it I had a gift-wrapped tie in my possession. It was all I could think of. I couldn't believe the best I could come up with was a tie. I had to stop myself from crying. I drove home hating myself for not getting him something nicer. It was burgundy tie made of silk. It wasn't a bad tie, and it was pretty expensive, but—it was a tie. That was what moms got their kids to give their dads on Father’s Day.

I made something small for dinner on Christmas Eve. He rang the doorbell at thirty minutes after seven. I smiled at him as I answered the door.

"Ho ho ho, Ethan." I smiled again.

"Hi Mr. Beckham," I replied.

"Jude," he corrected me.

"Hi Jude," I corrected myself. He smiled at me and I moved to the side so he could enter. He took off his jacket and I saw a holiday tie in the shape of a Christmas tree.

"Like the tie?" he asked pointing to it. "Too festive?"

"No, I think it has the right amount of festivity." He laughed.

"I hate ties." He pulled the tie he was wearing off and hung it up along with his jacket. He hated ties. There was no way in hell I was going to be giving him the gift I’d gotten him.

"What did you make me?" he asked, patting his distended paunch. I lead him into the dining room and served him some lasagna. I didn't know what people ate on Christmas Eve. We usually had pizza. He ate some and smiled. He continued eating for a moment.

"This is good," he said.

"Thank you," I said. "Do you need anything?"

"No—yeah, how about some more?" He had finished his first plate of pasta and I hadn't even noticed. I hustled into the kitchen and brought back the dish. I set it down on the table and plated another helping for him. He also ate the bread I had put out. I had a little bit, but mainly enjoyed watching him.

"Uh," he said as he undid the button on his pants. I got excited watching him making a glutton out of himself. I stood up and cleared the table. "You really can cook," he shouted to me in the kitchen.

"Not really," I said returning to the dining room, taking a seat across from him.

“You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?” I’d been semi-erect all evening, but him asking that question gave me a raging hard-on.

“Of course not,” I said with a nervous laugh. It wasn’t my goal per se, but I wasn’t against what eating so much did to his body.

“You’re trying to get me so fat nobody else will want me.” He leaned forward and grabbed the last piece of bread. He bit into it and chewed theatrically. “You don’t have to worry, Ethan. I’m all yours.”

“Then I’ll just fatten you up for my own liking.” I could see this statement shocked him. I was horny so I was feeling bold. “You’ve already got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself if it got bigger.”

“You like my ass, huh?” He stood up and turned around. He took his right cheek in his meaty hand and gave it a slight jiggle. “When I played football all the other guys used to love slapping my ass. Is it really that big?”

"Do you want to go to my room?" I asked abruptly. I had to get out of these clothes. I had to get him out of his clothes too.

"Okay," he said, laughing loudly at my urgency. I smiled like a dope. We walked to the stairs leading up to my room. "Stairs?" I heard him grumble. I laughed and I could hear him making his way up behind me. I wish he knew where to go, because I definitely would’ve liked to walk up the stairs behind him.

"This is it," I said, opening the door to my bedroom. I saw the gift-wrapped tie on my bed and briskly made my way over to it so I could save it and give it to my dad.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?"

"That box." I tried shoving it in my back pocket, but that only tore the paper. “Give it here, Ethan.”

"Here," I said handing it to him. "Merry Christmas, I already know you won't like it." He looked at it for a moment before ripping the paper off.

"How can you know I won't like it?" he asked, opening the box. "I love this present." He looked at the tie for a moment before he looped it under his collar. He tied it quickly. It didn't match his red dress shirt.

"You said you hate ties." He sat on the bed next to me.

"Not this one." He kissed me again and I kissed back. He tasted like pasta.

I finally got to taste that ass.

Holiday break ended and I noticed Mr. Beckham had put on a few, well, holiday pounds. I wanted to take all the credit, to say it was entirely my fault, but it was a team effort. I couldn't stop myself from cooking, and he couldn’t stop himself from eating. Whenever I saw how happy he was when he was eating, I wanted him to be that happy all the time. I wanted him to be happy with me. Cookies and other treats were always being made because I was really good at making sweets.

He'd tell me how good my cooking was and how he didn't really eat too much homemade food. The weird thing was that I liked it. I liked looking at him get bigger and it really freaked me out, but when I saw his rounding belly and thickening limbs I cooked even more. When break ended I was sure he must've put on twenty pounds.

Molly won her tournament in day two—day two of the two day tournament. So, yeah, they spent two days out of two weeks in a gym, and I was pretty sure my dad knew that.

When English class came the first Monday back, I felt my face burn red. Thinking about Jude now was always exciting. I sat in my desk and he took attendance. He wasn't wearing his usual sweater. He had on a light blue button up and the tie I gave him for Christmas.

His belly showed a lot more now. The tie rested noticeably on the outward curve. His pants had never been the loosest of clothing, but now I think he was probably going to need new ones. His meaty thighs and large butt seemed to be a problem.

"Hi Mr. Beckham," I said once the room cleared out after the bell rang for lunch.

"Ethan," he said smiling at me.

"I like your tie," I said.

"This tie?" he asked. "It was a gift."

"Do you like the person who gave it to you?"

"Oh yes, he's fantastic." I laughed.

"It's a guy?"

"Yeah, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not at all," I said.

We walked down to lunch together and then went back up to his room. We talked some more, and to be honest I didn't know how we could possibly have so much in common.

When I got home, my mom was making dinner. I wasn't in the mood to eat. I kind of wanted to be the one cooking. I had gotten used to it. I got to see Jude every night for two weeks and now I had to eat with my family? My family that was perfectly okay with going to Florida without me? It just didn't sit right with me.

"You're not eating?" My mother pointed out after forcing me to join her and Molly.

"I'm not hungry." I looked up from my plate. "And dad isn't here. Why should I be?"

"Your father is working," she said seriously.

"Mom, I don't care if he's working. I'm not hungry. I don't want to eat right now. I don't want to be forced to do something I don't want to do. I don't want you to think you can control me because you can't control dad." I sighed. This was really out of character for me. I shouldn’t be taking out my frustrations on my mom. “I’m going out," I said.

"You are not," my mom replied, aghast.

"Why can't I? Dad doesn't get home until ten."

"You're not your father, you're a child." A child? I stood up and left the dining room. I made sure I slammed the front door after grabbing my jacket and keys.

I didn't even know that was how I felt. I just said all of that stuff. I knew where I was going. I pulled out of the driveway.

I pulled up behind Jude's truck and went up to his front door. I rang the doorbell and waited for him to come and answer. I was wearing my stupid poof-ball hat again. I needed to throw it out. He answered. "Ethan? Is everything okay? Come inside."

"I got into a fight with my mother."

"About what?" he asked, laughing at how heated I was.

"I don't actually know. I just started yelling at her and then I came here."

"That's fine with me," he said, smiling. "But your mom is probably worried about you."

"Let her worry! They didn't worry when they went to Florida without me. They—she didn't even call me once! I'm sick of living there."

"It's just until after graduation," he said. "Then you can come and live with me. I'm sick of eating take-out for dinner." I pouted.

“You’re just trying to get rid of me,” I said.

“By asking you to live with me? I don’t think so.”

"Here? You want me to live here with you?"

"After graduation, sure,” he said. “I'd love that."

“Fine, Jude. You win this round.” I went home after that. If I just had to put up with my family until after graduation, I could so do that. I’d be in college, forging my own path.

In class the next day he was wearing the tie again. It was really sweet that he wore it because I was pretty sure he did hate wearing ties.

When he walked down the rows his belly would sometimes nudge me in the shoulder and I knew it was on purpose. I was the only one that happened to. I liked it a lot. It felt really good and it was just so weird that I liked him getting fatter.


My parents had been shocked when I told them I was gay. I thought they already knew, but I was glad I told them. I told them after having lived with Jude for three years, I still do.

My sister is going to be attending the college I go to now. It’s downtown and I'm glad that she’s happy. My father and I still don't get along that well, but my mother and I patched things up.

Mr. Beckham is still teaching at St. Jo's. He was cast as Santa Claus at the winter charity event this year and I made sure to buy my ticket early. I guess he was the natural choice weighing over 350 pounds. I knew he liked getting bigger, and I sure liked him being bigger, so there wasn't a problem when he just continued to pack on the pounds.

"Jude," I called.

"Yeah?” he shouted back from the dining room. He was grading essays on As I Lay Dying. Yeah, that same book I read three years ago.

"What do you want for dinner?" I heard him laugh.

"Anything," he said, and I knew he meant it. He loved not eating take-out every night anymore, not that it stopped him from the occasional fast food binge. He finished dinner and we ended up having sex.

I sure was glad I wasn’t in high school anymore, and I was glad for a lot of things, especially Jude Beckham.

The End!

Friday, December 11, 2015

My New Roommate

I had begun the process of interviewing potential roommates, and I hated it with a passion. My last roommate was picked by random, a bad idea from the start, and he was a total fucker. He was the type of guy who’d eat your food and lie about. He was the type of guy who would leave a bowl of cereal milk in the sink for a week. I didn’t even think he bought toilet paper for the apartment once. I was glad he decided to move back in with his parents.

So it was great that he moved out and everything, but my prospects for a new roommate weren’t looking so hot. There was an older gentleman who creeped me out a little. I told him I’d let him know about the apartment if I didn’t find a better match in a day or so. The other guy who was interested was named Snake, and the thing about it was, I wasn’t too sure that it wasn’t just a nickname. I was pretty sure his name was legally Snake. He had just made parole and in our conversation he joked about how he was likely going to end up back in prison with how he was going to pay the rent. I got Snake to understand I was still looking and if he didn’t hear from me by next week I likely found another, more compatible, match.

Alexander Wisely, age 21, was my last and only hope of finding somebody semi-normal, which was hilarious in and of itself. Normality was only a social-construct, and my judgments were based solely on my experiences. At half pass noon I heard a knock on my door. He was right on time. He had only called just this morning about the ad. He asked to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. We introduced ourselves and for the most part he seemed like the best choice for my new roommate. We sat in the living room, me semi-interviewing him as I had done for every other candidate.

"So where did you use to live?" I asked. I couldn’t help but note how hot he was. It hadn’t been in my ad that the guy had to be hot, but Alex was just going above and beyond. The dude was amazing to look at, and at 6'2” and about 200 pounds of muscle, he was on the same level as a male model. I thought he would have looked even better if he put on a couple of pounds, but I wasn’t complaining. Not everyone was into the dadbods—and beyond.

"I came to the city from my parent’s farm," he said with a bit of a twang.

"That’s so cool,” I said over-enthusiastically. I toned it down a bit. “Did you do farm work? With, like, cows?" He laughed. It was such a hearty laugh. I probably sounded like a doofus. I had been to a farm only once in my entire life, on a field trip in middle school.

"Yeah, but I hate farm life. That's why I want to move here.” He shook his head slowly. “They made me do all the work, and for nothing. My parents were always badgering me. They said I'd never leave."

"Well,” I began with a smile. “I’d love for you to be my new roommate."

"So I can move here?” he asked, standing, his fist clenched in front of him. I nodded. He was so damn innocent and wholesome. He probably had problems with homosexuality. I was getting the vibe that he probably came from a town without someone openly gay. “Really?" he asked, still in disbelief.

"Yeah, you can move in as soon as possible,” I said. “There is already a bed so you don't have to worry about that. We’ll just need to get you on the lease and everything should be A-OK.”

"Gosh, that's great, so I can come right now? I already have my stuff if you don't mind." He was blushing.

"No, I don’t mind, of course you can move in today." I had hoped he would be moving in soon, but I hadn’t expected him to be moving in this soon. He ran his hand through his hair, which was curly and golden blond. His eyes were an ice blue. They were such a striking color. He looked like a damn angel, all cute and shit.

He had broad shoulders and a huge chest. His legs were thick with muscle and his butt was perfect. It was large and round, most likely because of all the farm work. I could see him in overalls lifting bales of hay and doing other sexy farmer things. I could see him vividly, only in this scenario he had a nice big gut to go along with those rippling pectorals. I had never even considered the possibility that I’d start having farm fantasies.

He was just all around gorgeous, and to me at least, he did and said things in a really funny way. I helped him bring in his six bags from his truck, surprised he was just so sure he’d find a place to live on his first day in the city. He hadn’t found a place to live before just driving up here. I left him to unpack and made my way to the living room. I sat on the couch, which was my favorite piece of furniture in my entire apartment. It was kind of old, but I thought it had character.

"Excuse me, Mr. Haley?"

"Mr. Haley?” I responded with a laugh. “Call me Brian. I'm only 23, man.” I had never been called Mr. Haley by anyone except maybe a bank teller. I never thought I put out that vibe. “You don’t think I'm that much older than you, do you?" He was so weird and I loved every second of it. He could not have thought I was so much older than he was that he should call me Mr. Haley. It just wasn’t possible.

"No, of course not! I thought I was supposed to call you that because—you’re like a landlord, right?" He was blushing again. He was embarrassed by his lack of knowledge of city life. I didn't think someone could actually know so little. Did he ever even watch TV? He must’ve lived a really sheltered life. It made him even cuter though, in all honesty. I didn't want to laugh, but I did. “I'm sorry," he said, laughing with me.

"It's fine, honestly. You're pretty funny." I tried to smile in the kindest way I could.

"Anyway, uh, Brian, could you help me out with something?"

"Sure, what?" I asked, happy to help him any way I possibly could. Did he need a cold drink? A blow job? I’d rather he do it in the house with me than with some stranger.

"Well, uh, I might be good with tractors and cattle, that’s simple, but back home my momma made the beds,” he said endearingly. “So could you help me with my sheets? How the hell am I supposed to get these things on there?" He was so sweet. I could taste the sugar in the air. Infatuated to my fullest capacity, I began the sad realization that he probably would never even fall for me. He probably wasn't even gay.

"Okay." We were in his room and I was making his bed, like I had been in it with him beforehand, and I thought about how we could have some killer sex in here.

"Thank you so much for helping me out." I take it he was embarrassed about asking me to do this, but he seemed to enjoy interacting with me.

"It's okay, really,” I said, slipping his pillows into their cases. “I'm happy to help you out, roomie."

"Thanks again, for everything." I set down the pillows and made my way to the door.

"It's no problem. Come to me if you need anything." I made my way to my room and thought about how we were going to have an incredibly difficult relationship.

He'd come and go from his job as a waiter at McNally's. He always looked good in his uniform, a tightly stretched red shirt with a McNally's logo over the left breast pocket. It showed his huge pecs and strong arms. His pants gripped his thighs with their khaki fabric. I bet he got great tips. I had been tortured by the sight of him strutting around looking ridiculously hot for two months.

I had walked in from work early one Friday. I craved the weekend. I went to get a soda from the fridge and there he was in his briefs bent over rifling through some leftover pizza. "Alex?" I called, letting him know I was there.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't know you would be home so early," he said with a blush, like he was embarrassed of his body or something.

"I don't mind.” I realized that was kind of overtly gay. “Bro.” I was standing behind the counter, my lower half out of view. He was big as fuck, not as toned as when he first got here, but still big and strong looking. I was only 5'10” and 141 pounds, so he looked huge. I felt really stupid for even hoping he would be slightly interested in me. I was not going to kiss that cute little tummy he was sporting, or get my face in that bubble butt of his. Fuck, being gay was hard, and this wasn’t even one of the more serious issues I had to face.

"Have you gotten bigger since you've got here?" I asked.

"Is it that noticeable?" His hand rested on his beefier middle.

"You look good." I wondered if that showed that I liked him. “And I can tell your workouts are still happening. You’re looking jacked—uh, man.” I was so straight.

"Thanks." He smiled. He flexed his arms for me and I was going to cum in my pants any second now. His cock bulged in his briefs, and it was doing me in. I could only imagine what’d look like if he was hard, letting me play with it. "Let's have a guy’s night out. Know any good clubs?"

"Yeah,” I said, raking my brain for an idea of where we could go. I was going to take him to Sven's. It was a gay dance club. It was time for me to be honest with him. I couldn’t in good conscious look at his ass in his tight underwear if he thought I was his hetero roomie. "Be ready at nine."

He was in a nice pair of jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I was in basically the same thing, but my shirt was blue and kind of baggy. I felt frumpy next to him. I wasn’t ugly or anything, and I went to the gym four times a week, but I knew he was what most people wanted. We pulled up to Sven's at ten. It was packed; it always was. We walked in and saw the dance floor was full of guys, as was the bar.

“There’s a lot of dudes in here,” he said, speaking loud enough for me to hear over the music. "Is this, uh, is this a gay bar?" he asked, a look of awe on his face.

"Yeah,” I said, almost chickening out and telling him it was a joke. I could tell him I wanted to come make fun of some homos, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand being closeted around him. I had been in it long enough before I met him, and I wasn’t too keen on going back in just to cover my ass. “I'm gay. I didn't know how to tell you so I brought you here."

"They don't have these back home. I've always wanted to come to one."

"I’m sorry, what? Why?" I needed clarification. I was in disbelief. Major disbelief.

"I'm gay too." I could hear a choir of angels in the background. Maybe there was hope yet, and boy did I have hope. “I kind of figured you were too. I’m glad. I’ve never had any gay friends before.” Out of all of that, the one thing that stuck with me was the word friend. I was pathetic.

"So have you ever—," I began as the music picked up. Some guys similar in build to Alexander pulled him onto the dance floor. They were all over him. I kind of figured he would be snatched up by someone much hotter than I was. I stood for moment, waiting for him to come back over, but he kept on dancing. It looked like he was having a good time at least, and that was all that really mattered in the end. I got a huge drink and went over to a table. I had about six of those and I felt a whole lot better.

"Can we go? It’s a bit much in here, you know?” Were they talking to me? I think they were. I think I was being spoken to. He sounded so familiar. “Can we go out to, like, dinner tomorrow?" he asked.

"Are—are you good to—who are you? My friend is—I’m waiting for my friend Alex." I didn't drink very often.

"You're drunk?” he inquired, laughing at me. I didn’t like being laughed at.

"Am I drunk though? Is anyone really drunk? Think about it."

“I’ll get back to you on that,” he said, trying to get me to speak reasonably. “I'm Alex, your roommate. I’m the friend."

“I’m waiting for an Alex. Do you know all the Alex’s in the world? Is there an Alex club?” He looked at me for a moment and things began to register in my mind. Alex was who I was waiting for and he was sitting right next to me. "Oh, Alex! Alex, my man, you sir, have a great ass.” I felt myself pantomiming the shape of his butt. “I must dream about rimming that thing every night."

"Huh?" he asked, standing, and pulling me out of the booth.

"What? It’s pretty black and yellow—no, white. It’s pretty black and white. I want to have sex with my roommate Alex, but it's ‘posed to be a secret.” I felt myself stumble. "Drive?" I held out my keys.

"I can drive. Let's go." We were in the car and I didn't remember how we got there. I was just glad we were out of Sven’s. It was always 100 degrees in there and I was sweating like a sinner in church. “What—?”

"What?" He had asked a question, but I hadn’t caught majority of it. I never got this fucked up usually, so I wasn’t sure why I chose tonight of all nights to have a pity party for myself and get sloshed.

"So what do you dream about?"

"If you would get a little bigger. Like with a meaty belly and thighs. I bet your ass would get huge. That would be so hot, dude.” I felt myself start sobbing. “I love you so much." Why did I have to be such a sloppy drunk?

"What if I did get fat?"

"I would feed you and rub your tummy and love you forever."

"Would you?" he asked, laughing. He probably thought I was a freak. His background experiences and concept of normality probably was way different than my own. I needed to learn to keep my fantasies online.

"Of course! But I could never tell you all of this. You would—you would call me a freak and stop being my roommate. That would make me sad, hell, it’d be downright the most depressing thing ever," I said solemnly. “And whose ass would I get to stare at all the time?”

He took me up to the apartment and put me to bed, and then it was morning. Shit. It wasn't morning; it was nearly one in the afternoon. I brushed my teeth and took a quick shower. I wondered if Alex came home with me. He probably went home with one of those guys. Had I gotten a cab last night? I was going through the house when I saw him on the couch, asleep. His belly was full and bloated, and his shirt was riding up. He was also only wearing his briefs and he was sporting a pretty stiff erection. There he was. God he looked so full. What if he got even fatter?

I liked him as a person. I loved his body. I loved his smell, the little farm jokes he made, the way he laughed—his voice. It wasn’t just how hot he was. I honestly enjoyed hanging out with him as well.

I wanted to wake him up but I didn't have a reason to. I walked over to him. Walked away. Walked back. I leaned over him to shake him awake gently, and I could smell him. His strong scent was mixed with the smell of chocolate sauce. I was going to wing it. Nope, bad idea. I was going to walk away when he suddenly woke up. Now I looked like some crazy stalker who watched him sleep. "Brian?" he called. "What are you doing?" Brian the weirdo, yep that was me.

"What is anyone doing in life? You ever think about that?" I needed to get a grip. I should’ve just left things as they were and taken him to a normal bar last night. I could go back to pining over him from the shadows. It was better than this awkwardness.

“Huh? What’re you talking about?” he asked, sitting up.

“I’m sorry. I think I might still be a little drunk.” That kind of felt true. I prayed that I was. "I was, uh, I don’t feel that well." I turned abruptly and ran back to my room. I locked the door, jumped on my bed, and buried my face in a pillow. I sucked at lying. I didn't have a clue of what I should have said. There was a knock at my bedroom door. I could have died.

"Brian, can we talk?" I sat up in the bed. He kept knocking and knocking and knocking.

"No," I finally replied. I felt like such baby. I needed to get a grip.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because—,” I started, trying to gather my thoughts. “Fuck, dude, it’s too weird to talk to you. I really like you and I feel so stupid for even telling you. In all honesty, I was hoping to find out you were super straight and then I could move on with my life. I figured last night you left me at Sven’s. I saw all those guys. You could probably have anybody you wanted to."

"Not if I get fat," he said seriously.

"What? What does that even, uh, how do you—?" How did he know about my dirty desires? He knew about all the sexual, farmer fantasies. I kept that locked away where nobody would ever know about it. It was weird, wasn’t it? He was a mind reader, no doubt about it.

"You told me last night on our way home that you’re into me. You said you'd want me to be fat. You said you dream about me getting bigger." I could feel it coming, all the mean things he had to say to me. He’d call me a freak, a weirdo, a pervert. I might’ve actually just died. I was so mortified that words were lost to me. I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t. "I want to get big for you, because I like you too." He opened the door and walked in, which really pissed me off because I thought I locked it. But apparently I did and said a lot of things I didn’t remember. “I wouldn’t mind massing up, especially if you liked it.”

"Why?" I stood up and he came closer to me. “Why would you do that?”

"I've always wanted to be bigger, so why not now? When I know someone likes it?” He smiled and placed his large hand on my shoulder. “I was just so afraid of what people would think, but at this point of my life why not do what I want? If you'd be okay with it, I would be too.” I was dumbfounded. I had read stories like this online. He kissed me. It was our first kiss. His lips were soft and tasted like chocolate.

"Alexander," I uttered softly, still in disbelief. We were hugging now, my hands on his back. He gave a small grunt of acknowledgement. "Why do you like me? I think you could find someone else, like those guys at the club." I didn't think I should’ve been with Alex, even if I really fucking wanted him.

"I just like you."

“You don't even know me.” I think I was a fan of self-sabotage.

“Well I want to. That's what dating is, getting to know someone.” He kissed me again. It was the start of something weird and messy and it made me nervous. He was my roommate, and it could end badly, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t fucking care. He was hot and I was into him so I threw caution to the wind and let myself accept that something good actually happened to me. We were pretty compatible and our first month of dating was pretty legit.

In that first month of Alex trying to actively gain, he had gone from 210 pounds to 237 pounds. He could eat so much—just amazingly huge amounts of food. He ate whole cakes and pizzas, gallons of ice cream, subs, fried chicken, and burgers. I’d make him a fattening meal, and he loved to eat it. He told me he had always been a big eater but didn’t have farm work to burn off excess calories anymore.

"I have to go to work." I sat up in bed. I looked at the clock; it was ten in the morning.

"But it's your day off," I said, wanting to cuddle.

"I know, but they wanted me to come in today,” he replied. “They're short one person."

"Oh, all right." He gave me a kiss and began to get dressed. That made him going to work worth it. He put on his shirt, which was tight when he first started working there, but it was squeezing his chest and belly even more tightly now.

He kept pulling it down to hide a part of his gut that wouldn't stay covered. His pants were gripping his thighs and ass. I hoped he could make it through work without that button popping off. "I think I might need some new work clothes."

"I think you look great,” I said.

"Thanks,” he said with a laugh. “That doesn’t mean I don’t need some new clothes.” He pulled at the hem of his shirt again. “I will see you later."

"Bye babe." Alex was something else. He exceeded all my expectations. He was hot, nice, and into weight gain. I was the luckiest guy in the world.

Now that I was alone I realized that I was pretty bored. I had been spending my off days with Alex. I was so bored. I needed to get out of the apartment. Bored. Bored. Bored. I could go and visit Alex at work. That would be fun. I hadn’t seen where he worked yet, so it’d be cool to get a feel for the vibe of the restaurant. I got ready and was at McNally's by noon.

I went up to the hostess and asked to be seated in Alex's section. She said that he wasn't scheduled to work today. I told her he wouldn’t be on the schedule because he was covering for someone else. “I’m sorry, sir. Everyone who was on the schedule has already clocked in for the day.” I thanked her and went home.

I wondered why he would lie to me. I immediately thought the worse, and then I chastised myself for even considering it. He was too sweet to do that. He wasn't that kind of guy. I spent the whole day feeling like crap though. He walked into the bedroom. "Hey Brian," he greeted me with a smile. He looked very full.

"Hello, how was work?"

"Fine, it was crazy busy though,” he said. “There were just so many things to do."

"Like what?" I inquired. I shouldn’t look for problems. I had to accept things the way they were or risk ruining a good thing.

"Well, there was a party and—," he began before I cut him off.

"Don't lie, Alex," I said seriously.

"What are you talking about?"

"I wanted to surprise you at work and the hostess said you weren't scheduled to work today. I don’t know what you were doing, but don’t lie to me."

"I am not a liar."

"Yeah, well, I was there at noon and you were nowhere to be found."

"Shut up, Brian. You're such an idiot sometimes." He looked at me angrily. "I was at work a half hour after noon. I didn't need to clock in until then. I was getting something to eat before work. Amy, the hostess, is new and clueless.” He sat on the bed. “I can't believe you think I would lie to you."

"Fuck, I'm sorry." I felt stupid, which I should have. "I would just expect you to cheat on me. I mean I'd be hurt, but I would expect it and understand it."

"You shouldn't have to expect that from me. I’m not that kind of guy, trust me."

"I am really sorry."

"Forget about it. I'm really tired, so let's go to bed."

"Okay, sure." I knew I was being ridiculous, but my gut instinct still told me something was off. I chose to ignore it as Alex took off his shirt. That was a treat. His pecs were still big, but with a nice layer of flab. His belly and love handles were getting gigantic. Just like his perfect ass. He was getting flabby all over. I still felt bad for calling him out like a jealous idiot. I wondered what I could do to make it up to him, maybe a nice dinner. No, I had to do something different than just some food.

"Why don't we have sex yet?" I asked, thinking about all the things I could do for him in the bedroom.

"Well, I don't want to rush things."

"We already live together, and sleep in the same bed. We've been dating for almost three months. We skipped the honeymoon stage and have gone straight into the old married couple one."

"We will, one day." I hoped it was one day soon because with him getting bigger and bigger like this, I could surely die from celibacy.

"Okay, sure. Soon." Maybe he was right. Maybe it was too soon. I might have been ready, but I hadn't even thought about him. Once again I was being selfish. But damn if I didn’t want to let him fuck me.

"I'm going to hang out with some friends from work. I’ll be back soon." It was seven the next night. I had thought long and hard about our conversation the previous night. He said I didn’t have a reason to be jealous, but when I really thought about it, he seemed to always be sneaking around. I had just ignored it up until this point.

I didn't deserve him, sure, but I had hoped he would be honest enough with me that we could work through any problems. I did hope that I was wrong. I really did.

When he left out of the apartment I counted to twenty-five. I took the stairs to the street where I parked my car. Alex parked his pickup truck five cars in front of mine. He pulled off and I jumped in my car so I could trail him. I followed him stealthily, like a ninja. We drove for a while then he pulled into the lot of a store. I waited. He came out and I wondered what he needed so many groceries for. Were he and his coworkers having a party?

He drove a little bit longer and pulled up to a little house. He went up to the door and knocked. Some little guy came to the door, taller than me, but way skinnier. He kissed him. I wanted to understand, and I said that I would, but I felt crushed, angry even.

I went to the side of the house after they went inside. I saw them in the bedroom. They didn’t even have the decency to close the blinds. I felt like a peeping tom. Mr. Bones stood there commanding Alex to eat pastry after pastry. Alex had a look of euphoria on his face. Alex was drinking milk now, his gut looking the tautest I’d ever seen it. If it weren’t a scene of my boyfriend cheating on me I’d probably be horny. He was then having sex with Mr. Bones. It was clear why we weren’t having any fun in the bedroom. Wasn’t I worth anything? I had to be worth something, didn't I? If I just let this go on and said nothing, wouldn’t that prove to myself that I wasn't good enough to be loved?

They finished, and I could barely hear them through the closed window. “You’re getting kind of big, Alex,” Mr. Bones said, kind of peeved. “You know the gut is hot, but only when I’m stuffing you full, got it?”

“Yeah, I told you I’d start doing cardio again, so get off my case.”

“Well, you’ve been saying that for the last month, and you’re only getting fatter. You know what I’m into, you’ve known from the—.” I couldn’t take listening to this anymore. I found my way back to my car and drove home. This was a lot to take in for one night.

I went home and started to cook. I knew he’d be back soon. They were probably just having a quickie. After maybe twenty minutes I heard his keys hit the table as he sat down. "Hey Alex," I greeted him as cheerfully as I could.

"What are you making?” he asked. “It smells great."

"Just a little something. I figured you'd be hungry. You always are." I gave a fake chuckle.

"Yeah, I am." He rubbed his belly, laughing along with me. I thought I saw a slight amount of discomfort on his face. He was probably still really full from his stuffing session with Mr. Bones.

"It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes."

"Okay, good, I'll go take a shower."

"You do that." Washing away any traces of evidence. He sounded so sincere when he said he’d never lie to me. He was playing me, and I didn’t like it one bit. I had thought he was perfect. I felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner. That day at McNally's he was lying to me. I should have known. I shouldn’t have been so blinded by his country charm and killer body.

"Is it ready yet?" he asked, covered in a slight coat of water from his shower. I smiled, trying not to cry. Was I making a mistake? I’d rather have part of someone than no one at all.

"Yep, eat up," I said. He ate and ate until everything I made was gone. It was just some pasta and baked chicken, nothing spectacular. He smiled at me. It just all seemed so fake now.

"I'm so stuffed," he said, rubbing his distended gut. It was the biggest I’d ever seen it. Between me and Mr. Bones, Alexander could be massive.

"I'm glad you liked it.” It was now or never. “But, Alex, you should really be a more truthful person."

"I did like your food," he started with a laugh. He was just going to keep hurting me, making me feel inferior.

"About yourself, not the food," I said sternly. "I followed you to the store, and then to the skinny guy's house. I saw you having sex with him."

"I—I—," he stuttered, surprised by my sleuthing skills.

"Shut up, Alex." I was so angry. "You can still live here, I guess. Rent is due every third of the month. Please move your things back into your room. I'm going out." I decided to get a drink. Dealing with Alex was going to make me an alcoholic. I went down the street to a little bar. "Can I get something strong and fruity?" I asked.

"Here you go," the bartender said. It was a huge pinkish drink that was embodiment of exactly what I asked for.

“Not what I had in mind,” I said, more so to myself, laughing at my own humor. "Thank you—," I began as I read her name tag. "Cara.” She smiled at me as she made another drink. “You know, men suck, and you know what sucks about that? I’m a man, so I suck. I just broke up with my boyfriend because he cheated on me."

"That's too bad,” she said sympathetically. “I'm sure you can do better."

"I like you," I put a five in the tip jar. "But I doubt I’ll ever find anyone better than him. He was one hot piece of ass."

"I'm sure of it," she said, laughing at my joke before she went to take another drink order. I looked at the guy sitting next to me. He was bigger than Alex, like now, with all the extra blubber.

"How tall are you?" I asked with a sniffle.

"Me?" He looked up at me. His eyes were sweet and green. His lips were full and he had a masculine chin softened by a small layer of fat. He had Alex beat. I silently thanked the heavens for my good fortune.

"Uh, yeah." I hated how direct I had been. Alcohol really knew how to make me word-vomit.

"I’m a little taller than 6’3”,” he said, looking at me with a kind smile. “I'm also sorry to hear about your boyfriend."

"That's pretty tall." That's pretty tall? Oh come on. I saw why I didn’t have guys chasing after me. I was just a born conversationalist. "It's fine. He had been lying to me for months, surprisingly."

"I wouldn't lie to you." I had been burned by someone who had said something very similar in the past. He smiled and it was the most adorable smile I had ever seen. "A cute guy like you would never like a guy like me."

"I so would,” I said seriously. “I'm Brian."

"Max," he said. What a sexy name. I liked a boy in high school named Max. Of course he beat me up a lot and made fun of me for being gay, but he was still hot. Max and I made our way out of the bar and began to talk. I didn’t really know what I was doing with Max. That drink Cara made me was super strong and I really just thought Max was the coolest thing since sliced bread. I was being childish, that was for certain.

"So, Brian, what's your roommate slash ex like?" he asked.

"Honestly? I thought he was really nice and sweet. I really trusted him, you know? He said he would never cheat on me.” I sighed much louder than I had wanted to. “I feel so stupid for thinking someone like him could love me. I feel stupid for just chatting you up in a bar after my boyfriend and I ended things. You know what,” I started. “You probably think I’m so odd.”

"I don’t, and if we’re being honest you’re one of the cutest guys I’ve had to opportunity to be chatted up by. I can’t believe your boyfriend would do that to you. I’d never do something like that.” He laughed slightly. “I'm glad you’re interested in me though. Most guys I like never look my way. When I go to Sven’s they must all run from me. You’d think I had the plague. I got laughed just the other weekend when I tried to hit on a guy. It was so embarrassing.”

"That’s so shitty," I said. “Who could say no to a big cutie like you? You’re just my type.”

"What?" he asked.

"Well, uh, this is hard for me to say, but I’ll be honest, I really like bigger guys.” I was just putting it all out there. If I wasn’t honest, how did I expect someone else to be? “Like, fuck man, I wouldn’t mind if you got even bigger. I’m into all that weird sort of shit. You're so cute and tall too. You could probably be a hundred pounds bigger and I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you." I saw a blush on his face by the light of the street lamp we were under.

"Thank you.” He ran his fingers through his curly, reddish-brown hair.

"Do you want to spend the night?” I asked, soon realizing what it sounded like. “Not like sex or anything. Just sleeping over." I was wounded and I wanted someone to make me feel better. I was feeling shitty about how this must’ve made Max feel. I had to think about him as a person.

"Are you sure? Isn't he there?” I could see him frowning. "I feel like you don't really like me and I'm the rebound guy," he laughed, but I could tell he was a little hurt. I was worried he’d feel that way.

"I’d be lying if that wasn’t a possibility, but damn, you’ve got me feeling really good. I’m sure if we got to know one another I’d still be into you.” I laughed. “That’s what this sleepover can be the start of."

"Okay," he said. “Sounds like a good idea.” He smiled his gorgeous smile. We came to my building and we went on up to my apartment. We walked in to find a pacing Alex. He was in a pair of pajamas that were a bit too tight and were squeezing his ass in a way that—fuck him.

"Where have you been? I really need to talk to—," he paused for a moment, surprised to see Max. He had finally noticed who it was I was with. "Max? Does Mr. McNally need something? You could have just called."

"No, my dad doesn't need anything." Dad? Max McNally? Alex's boss was Max's dad. What luck I had, honestly. My life seemed to be filled with highs and lows, but wasn’t everyone’s?

"Max," I called quietly. I should have asked his last name. He looked over at me. "My room is this way." I gestured to the hallway leading to my bedroom. He nodded and moved a bit closer to me. "Goodnight, Alex," I called. He looked confused and angry. I was pretty sure he cheated on me. We walked into my bedroom and I was sure to lock the door this time. "You own the restaurant Alex works in?"

"No, my dad does." He smiled. “But one day I might.”

"Now it seems like I picked you up on purpose. Well, I did, because I thought you were really hot—no, no, things could not be worse." He gave me a confused look and I sighed. “You’re his boss's son."

"So?” He didn't get it. Maybe I didn’t get it. I had let Alexander cheat on me for—I wasn’t even sure for how long. “What? It doesn't matter.” I found myself agreeing, and it was likely out of convenience. Max was right. It was none of Alex’s business who I dated and it wasn’t like I was going to get him fired on purpose. We had rent to pay.

"Well, uh, I guess you're right."

"I really like you," he said.

"I really like you too."

"Then everything is fine.” He smiled again. "My dad is going to love to meet you."


"I have never brought a guy home before, they’re starting to wonder if I’ll ever find somebody.” He looked at me and I could tell he felt embarrassed. “I didn't mean to insinuate that you had to meet him right away,” he said nervously. “I just ruined everything, didn’t I?”

"You like me all that much? Really?" I smiled. I almost squealed like a school girl.

"Yeah, I do.” He was blushing. His face had gone incredibly pink. He was so cute. “I really like you. I just feel so great when I talk to you, and my dad is really understanding of me being gay. Not like my brother Joe. Mike is nice though. They work at the restaurant too."

"Wow,” I said, slightly overwhelmed. He grimaced, as if I had insulted him. "We’re really doing this, huh? Just jumping into each other’s lives." I really felt like I was some teenager. He was still blushing, a nervous half-smile on his lips. We fell asleep together, his large, hulking body providing intense comfort.

I got up the next morning and saw a note from Max with his cell number on it. He said to be at the restaurant at noon. It was around ten so I had a bit of time. Although Alex was working today, I had a good feeling about meeting Max’s family. I called him when I was outside and he met me at the door.

I was really glad to be there. He didn't seat me in Alex's section, thankfully. I thought that Max was just more mature than Alex, and hopefully more honest. Max was older than I was, at 27. He said I could get whatever I wanted, but I wasn’t a big eater like he was. I got a glass of water with lemon because I ate before I came, which was incredibly dumb. Who ate before going to a restaurant? Max walked over with a huge gray-haired man of about sixty. He was like an older version of Max—a fatter one too. He was about 6'4”, because he stood a bit taller than Max. I stood up to greet him.

"Hello, Mr. McNally." I was so nervous. I had never met a guy I was dating’s family before. This made our relationship seem like it was going to end up going somewhere. It was exciting in a really domestic sort of way.

"Call me Ron, Mr. McNally is my father." He smiled just like Max. I had heard that joke before, probably a million times, but it was better coming from Mr. McNally.

"Okay, Ron."

"Don't be so nervous. Maxy has been talking about you all morning." Max blushed.

"Maxy?" I smiled. Maxy was a sweet nickname. Max groaned.

"What? You are my little Maxy. When he was just four, he was such a big boy even then, he took his mother's pearls, bless her soul, and hid them in the—."

"Dad, please don't tell him that," Max said quickly. He was blushing like crazy.

"Fine, I'll tell him later.” I smiled and he chuckled. "To be honest I'm so glad he found a nice boy like you. He eats so much I don't know how you will be able to put up with him. I guess he gets it from his father." Mr. McNally placed his hand on his own substantial belly.

"Dad!" Max called, noticeably embarrassed. I didn’t know what this was like at all. My dad died a little after I was born and my mom followed when I was only in middle school, so seeing a real family was nice.

"Can't we talk, geez Maxy, are you embarrassed by your old man?"

"Yes," Max said with an exasperated sigh. Mr. McNally laughed.

"I can't imagine why," Mr. McNally said while shooting me a wink.

"I like your dad, Max,” I said seriously. “He's great. You’re both very handsome." Mr. McNally gave a raspy laugh and his face turned incredibly red, just like Max’s did.

"See Maxy! Your boyfriend likes me!” Boyfriend. Whoa there, boyfriend? We were only dating, and barely even that, but a large part of me really didn’t mind being called his boyfriend. I felt silly, sure, like we were fucking seventh graders, but that part of me that didn’t mind wouldn’t let me be put off by how quickly things were moving. “Well, I have to get back to work. I hope to see you again soon." He walked back towards the kitchen and two more big guys walked out.

"These are my two older brothers, Joe and Mike." Mike was the taller one and the oldest. He was the same height as Mr. McNally. Joe was the middle child and about 6'2”.

They were both slightly chubby, but Max was way bigger. It was like he was the big brother. I bet they always gave him extra food because he was the youngest. All three of them had the same reddish-brown hair.

"So you’re this Brian. It's great to meet the guy my brother won't shut up about," Mike said. He gave me a hug. What could he possibly tell them about me? I wasn’t amazing or anything, where he could go on and on about me. Especially considering we just met.

"It's nice to meet you." I felt really short surrounded by the three of them. “I’m excited to get to know you guys.”

"Hey," Joe said, shaking my hand.

"It's really nice to meet you," I replied, a little nervous about interacting with Max’s homophobic brother who was twice my size.

"So you’re the fag my brothers seeing." Okay, I was a little shocked. Max had said Joe was a bit, uh, intolerant, but we didn’t even lead up to the insult. At least he was straight forward. I knew where I stood, so that was good.

"Joe!" exclaimed both Mike and Max in unison. It was almost funny, actually. I hadn’t been called a fag since high school.

"Figures the only guy he could find would look like you. You're pathetic, Max. Fucking homos and shit, I swear."

"I'm sorry," Mike said pulling Joe towards the kitchen. Max was red in the face. “Max, he told me he’d behave. I’m sorry again, Brian.”

"Forget about it," I called as I put on a smile. I turned towards Max. "Well, Mike is really nice." Mr. McNally walked out of the kitchen. He looked pissed, but his face softened as he met Max and me.

"I'm sorry Brian. Please forgive Joey. He didn't mean that." He looked thoroughly embarrassed. "You should come to family dinner Sunday. Please. I insist."

"That would be nice." I turned to Max to see if it was okay. He nodded happily. We talked a bit longer and I decided to head on out. I said my goodbyes, but I didn’t leave immediately. It may have seemed petty, but I went and sat in Alex's section afterward. I told Max I wanted to end us for good. Alex didn't see my face before he walked up.

"Hello, I'm Alex and I will be your server—Brian?" I had cottonmouth. I was afraid I was going to pass out. "Are you forgiving me?"

"No," I finally could muster.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, folding his arms across his beefy chest.

"I was visiting this guy I’m dating."

"But you said we’re not—Max?" I nodded. "Max is your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" I had to get used to that at some point, why not start now.

"I need to tell you something," he said seriously. He still looked really good and it made me even sadder that we had to end things. It made me even sadder that I wasn’t enough for him

"What?" I asked, not too sure what he was going to tell me.

"I'm moving out.” He looked anxious, and I felt anxious. Things shouldn’t have ended this way. I shouldn’t have been snooping. I should’ve just let it go. “I’m going to live with Jeff."


"The guy you saw me with," he said.

"Oh, Jeff," I said with a nod. He was talking about Mr. Bones. I looked at him seriously. I meant what I was going to say. I truly meant it. I had to let go of all the mistrust and anger and self-doubt that being with Alex gave me. I had to do that so I could at least see where things with Max could go. "I hope you two are happy."

"Jeff loves me," he said. It sounded like he was reassuring himself.

"I love you too, Alex." It looked like I had just really hurt him. I was just trying to be nice. I was trying to be an adult, and fuck it was hard.

"Well, I’ll be out by tomorrow evening." I got up and walked out. I cried in my car and felt a whole lot better. I was done with Alex, for good. I could be happy. I went home and at around seven Max came by. We went in my room and sat on my bed. Alex was packing his things.

"Hi, Maxy," I said with a chuckle. He frowned. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." He smiled and gave another deep laugh. Who could possibly resist him?

"You're coming over tomorrow, right?” I nodded. "Please don't hold that against Joey," he said pleadingly. “He’s just an asshole, and I’m not trying to excuse his behavior entirely, but I think he just needs some time to get used to things.”

"I understand." I really did understand. It must’ve been hard for him to accept his brother was gay, and he probably still really loved and cared about Max, so he had to project his displeasure onto someone else. For all the good Max brought me, I could handle some derogatory comments from his brother.

"He really is nice."

"I hope he likes me one day."

"He will,” he said reassuringly. "You should invite your parents." I didn't want to tell him about them. I rarely told anyone about my family. Alex and I dated for over three months and we hadn’t talked about my family.

"I, uh, I can't."

"They don't live here?" he asked. “Maybe around the holidays we could get them to fly into town. My dad was already asking about them. He’s a planner, you know, and he wants to set up some parent-to-parent bonding time. I told him that was weird, but he does what he wants anyway.”

"My dad died when I was like 4 and my mom died when I was in middle school. I’m an only child of only children, so, I—I don’t really have any family."

"I—I—,” he said trying to form his next sentence carefully, likely afraid he had hurt my feelings. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"You'd have to find out eventually, right?" I felt the like I was going to cry, like I was just going to start sobbing and never stop. Max kind of understood, having lost his mom, but it was different for me. I was a straight up orphan.

"Brian," he said in his kind voice. “Come here.” I moved in closer to his massive wall of a body. He hugged me tight and I didn’t feel the need to cry. His warmth was enough to make me feel not so alone in the world. He smelled strong and I felt his belly pressing against me. I felt him kiss me and then he pulled back. I wanted more. I leaned forward and kissed him.

I felt his love handles. I got handfuls of him. I felt his ass as I worked my way away from his fleshy sides. It was great. He leaned on top of me pressing his gut into me as we kissed. That was new. Not like with Alex, who was substantially smaller. I got an erection. His weight put a pressure on my crotch that made me tingle all over. "Max," I whispered.

"Huh?” he grumbled, still kissing me.

"I am so fucking into you."

"Good, because I’m never letting you go."

"How—how much do you weigh?" I asked, so I could freakishly get off to the number. I felt even more turned on thinking about what he’d say. I wanted to pull my penis from my pants. I wanted to be with him even more physically.

"297 pounds," he said. I pushed him up and took off my clothes, wondering what was taking him so long. He looked at me as I stood naked in front of him. “You’re, so, uh, fit,” he said. He slowed considerably, looking ashamed.

"What?" I panted.

"I don't want to take my clothes off," he said, red faced. "You’re going to hate what you see. You look so good."

"No I'm not,” I said, less pant in my voice. “You look good too. You know you’re my type."

"I—I don't look good naked."

"I bet you do."

"I don’t think—," he started before I interrupted him. I took his sweatshirt and lifted it up over his head. The motion made his chest jiggle slightly and his belly shake. He had some stretchmarks on his gut, and it only was getting me going even more. He also had some around where his arms met his torso. His arms were larger than Alex’s. He saw my erection get even harder. I unbuttoned his pants and slide them down his muscular thighs. They were massive. He removed his underwear while I grabbed a condom. His ass was huge and I could feel myself getting the most turned on I had been a long time.

I climbed up behind him. I could cum almost just by looking at him. I entered him and placed my hands on his wide back. I pushed harder and harder. I found my hands grabbing onto his love handles, using them to steady myself. He was moaning softly, and I could see that his ears were bright red. We finished after probably fifteen minutes or so. He went to immediately put his clothes back on. "You, uh, have to go?" I asked, disappointed.

"No," he replied with a laugh.

"If you’re sleeping over, you can stay naked," I said.

"Brian I'm so big you probably don’t want me in there with you all night. I might roll over on you or something."

"That’s ridiculous,” I said, knowing it’d be a tight fit. “And if you did I wouldn't mind at all."

"I don't think I should," he said, still trying to convince me it’d be uncomfortable. I got up and pulled him into the bed.

"If you want a t-shirt, I have some."

"Okay," he said. I got out of bed and rummaged through my drawers. The biggest one I had was a size large and it didn't make it pass his belly button. His biceps were straining the seams. I grabbed hold of his muscular arm. I didn’t know he was this solid. I liked it. "I don't want to rip your shirt," he said, still embarrassed.

"You look so hot right now." He blushed. “I didn’t know you lifted.” He climbed into the bed and we snuggled up next to one another.

“Oh, yeah, I lift nearly every day with Joey and Mike.” He was so warm and it was really nice lying next to him. “We’ve worked out together since high school.” We continued our small talk and at one point he fell asleep. I laid there awake for a while, happy, falling asleep after some time.

I woke up and Max was still asleep. It was only 7 AM on a Sunday. I went to the bathroom in the hall so I wouldn't wake up Max. I felt so happy. I never imagined this after I broke up with Alex. I turned on the shower and hopped in it. I felt the water run over me. I also felt a hand run over my back and grab my ass. "Ah!" I yelped.

"It's just me," he said as he attempted to enter the shower with me. It was Alex. He was drunk and naked. He pulled me back in as I tried to exit.

"Don't touch me," I whisper-screamed, not wanting to alert Max. I turned off the water and got out.

"What's wrong baby?" I was wrapping a towel around myself. I thought I was the one who got drunk and made terrible decisions? He was stealing my shtick.

"We are not together anymore, Alex, and I have a boyfriend."

"That doesn't mean we can't fool around." I didn't know Alex at all. It was pretty terrifying. Is that why he felt it was okay to go around screwing Jeff even though we were dating? His country charm had worn off, and he was mainly just pissing me off. Sure, he was standing there, belly round and covered in blond-brown hair, and he was in nothing but a pair of too small briefs, but I was still pissed.

"Yes it does. You have a boyfriend. What about Jeff?" He was walking closer to me.

"Jeff never asked me to move in. Jeff is some guy I met online before I came to the city. He’s into stuffing hot jock types, but apparently I don’t—I don’t fit that criteria anymore. I got too fucking fat for him."

"Well, I'm sorry, Alex, but I'm in a relationship. I plan on it lasting for a long time, hell, maybe even forever."

"I don't care. You’re mine." He leaned in and tried to kiss me. I punched him in the gut and ran out of the bathroom. He grabbed me and I was yelling for him to stop. “You like how fucking fat I am, don’t you?” he asked, pulling me into his body.

"Alex, stop,” I tried to say calmly, hoping my demeanor would calm him down. “You're breaking my arm! Fuck! Help!" I was looking at the floor. Naked and getting my arm broken. It was such a demeaning experience.

"Why? You—you asked why we weren't having sex. We could still be happy. We could have sex all the time now." Alex let go and stumbled back against the wall.

Max had punched him in the face. I got up and put my towel on again. My hair was wet and water kept dripping in front of my eyes. I tried to focus on that instead of what just happened. Alex got up and went off towards his room. I walked back into my bedroom. Max followed. He ripped the shirt; his arms had ripped the sleeves. He may have been fat, but he had a lot of muscle.

"Brian, are you okay? Did he—did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine.” I took a deep breath. “I can't believe he did that. I thought I knew Alex. I thought he would never do something like that. I never even pictured that happening." I rambled on and on. I didn’t really know what was happening in my life anymore.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah.” I smiled. “Thanks for saving me." He returned the smile.

"I’ll always be there to save you." I smiled even wider. Our relationship felt like a damn movie. I didn’t think people actually found partners who said things like that. He got dressed and said he'd be by at four to pick me up for dinner. He asked if I could forgive him about the shirt. I laughed and said it wasn't a problem.

He asked if I'd be okay with Alex here by myself. I reassured him everything would be fine. I went about my day, not seeing Alex at all. I wondered if he was even still in the apartment. I got dressed and was waiting in the living room until it was time to go. Alex walked in and sat down. "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened this morning."

"Okay," I said calmly, not sure what else I could say.

"I really am."

"I said that it’s okay, Alex.” I didn’t know what to do about him in all honesty. I wondered if what he said about Jeff was true. “So you’re going to be gone when I get back?"

"But—yeah, I'll be gone."


"But are you sure you don't want to—," he began.

"Yes, I'm sure, Alex. It’s over." The doorbell rang. I looked at him for the last time before I went down to meet Max. It was pretty warm for the start for November. All I had to wear was a sweater—my favorite sweater with cool stripes that were black and blue. I also wore a nice pair of black slacks. Max was in a stylish button-up black shirt and khakis. The shirt was nice and tight around his arms and chest. His belly could easily pop the buttons if he pushed himself at the dinner table. "Hey Maxy,” I said with a smile. “You look great."

"You do too,” he replied genuinely. “Ready?" We climbed into his car and drove to his dad's house. His two aunts, brothers, and his brother's wives and children were already there. The house was huge, like a mansion. I'd never been in such a nice house.

"This house is huge," I said in awe, and slight embarrassment. I didn’t realize the McNally’s were so wealthy. I guess the restaurant did better than I had expected.

"Yeah, Dad does pretty well with the restaurant.” I stood a bit longer, gazing at the house before me. He put his masculine hand on the small of my back. “Let's go," he said, guiding me forward. We walked up to the door and he let himself in. We walked into the dining room and everyone was chatting or getting food set out. There were kids running around everywhere. It was like the family I never had.

"Hello Mister," said a little girl of about three.

"Hello, little lady," I replied.

“Let's get married,” she said seriously, determination in her voice, her eyes serious. I chuckled. “You’re cute.”

"No, you don't want to marry me. I'm old."

"And a fucking faggot. You aren't going to marry my Sally." It was Joe. Geez, Joe, I knew I wasn’t going to marry a three-year-old, even if I was straight. I felt my face go hot, and exited the dining room, and finally the house. I wasn’t wanted. I was still feeling out of it because of the incident with Alex this morning, plus the conversation the two of us just had didn’t help.

Everyone had just stared at me before yelling at Joe. I was not having a good day. I didn't know how I was going to make it through dinner. I felt sick. It had been a rough day. I felt better when I got here but now I felt even worse. "Brian, listen, I'm sorry." It was Joe.

"Uh, Joe?" I had to wipe my face before I turned around. I had been tearing up.

"Yeah—aw no. I didn't want to make you cry. I didn't mean that. I’m a fucking asshole."

"Uh, okay." He looked apologetic enough, but the fact that he could beat me to a pulp didn’t make being alone with him any less nerve-racking.

"I'm not homophobic. I just get so mad to see Max with you."

"Can I ask why?" Incest? No way. No way in a million years. I had such a dirty mind.

"I don't know,” he started. “People have always been so shitty to Maxy. I've always had to be there for him. I love him. I don't want to see him get hurt.”

 "I would never do that."

"I know—but don't. You hurt Max, and I might just kill you." Joe sighed deeply. “He’d kill me for telling you this, but in high school when he told us all he liked guys everyone in the family was so supportive. He was just a freshman, you know. It was a brave thing to do.”

“I know what it is like,” I said.

He laughed a little before continuing. “Yeah, I guess you’d know better than any of us.” He looked at me seriously. “He got the crap beat out of him one day because he told some prick of a guy he liked him. My little roly poly of a brother had the balls to tell some wrestler he had a crush on him.”

“That’s awful,” I said, remembering my own battles from high school.

“Mike and I took care of it of course, but after that we both got him to start lifting with us. He got big enough to handle himself, but I swore I’d never let some guy hurt my brother again. So you make him happy, got it?

“Yes, sir.” He smiled and held out his hand. I shook it and we went back inside. Mr. McNally greeted me and once again apologized for Joe. I told him we worked everything out. The look of relief on Mr. McNally’s face was almost comical.

Boy they sure could eat. I saw them devour chicken, mashed potatoes, rolls, macaroni and cheese. They must have made pounds of food. They made enough food for at least twenty people, maybe even more. We had our after dinner drinks and ate dessert after dessert. It was really fun. We finally said our goodbyes and went back to my apartment.

I saw that his belly was straining his shirt. I couldn't help but rub it. He moaned. I saw he was kind of excited. I placed my hand over his crotch and rubbed slightly. He moaned again. I jumped out of my clothes in record speed. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love having sex. "I can't," he said as I tried to undress him as I had before.

"Please, you know how into you I am. Your body is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I ate so much at dinner. I know I shouldn't have eaten that much, but I just—I'm going to look fat and disgusting.” It was too late. I was already unbuttoning his shirt. “Please no," he protested.

"You're so hot."

"No. I'm not." He was so embarrassed, but I just had to show him how serious I was.

"Yes." I kissed his chest, slightly biting one of his nipples. I could hear his breathing. I began to lick his gut, one hand playfully grabbing it. He pushed me off a bit forcefully. I think my ego was more hurt than I was.

"No." He got up and pulled his shirt back on. "I can't do this."

"But why?" I asked, upset. He looked at me, his face scrunched up and slightly angry. I didn’t even do anything. I couldn’t believe this. “You can top if you want,” I suggested.

"I know you secretly hate my body,” he spat. “I don't know what you want, but you’re just using me." He thought I was a gold digger. That was hilarious in and of itself. I was hurt more than anything.

"I hate you." I walked up to him, felling big until I was next to him. He was huge. As angry as I was, I still managed to get an erection. He knew it because I was naked. I went to grab my underwear. "You can just leave," I said as I got one leg through my underwear. He pulled me close to him.

"I guess you do like me," he said before he kissed me. I pushed him off of me.

"I do,” I said. “But for some reason you don’t get that and, honestly, as much as I really like you, I can’t take another shitty relationship right now.” He pulled off his shirt. “I was single two years before Alex, and I can be single again.” He unbuttoned his pants and I could fully see his gut and ass. Damn, that ass had me losing my train of thought. I loved all of his excess adipose.

“I’m sorry,” he said. I gave a half smirk and he pulled me over to the bed. We had sex for what seemed like hours. I loved it, and as premature as it probably was, I was starting to love him too. We finally finished. We rested on my bed, exhausted and sweaty. "God that was hot," he panted.

"Yeah, it was" I replied.

"I’m glad we met," he said seriously. He turned towards me and gave me a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I am too." I really was. Cara had done exactly what I asked her to. She gave me something strong and fruity. I had to go back and thank her one of these days.

Everything was perfect and I wouldn't have it any other way. Alex had gone. I felt a bit bad, but I couldn't do anything. He was probably going back home.

“So about what you told me the night we met,” Max started. “If I did put on a few more pounds, you’d really like that?” I was getting hard again. I couldn’t believe what my life had become. “Do you think you could fix me something to eat? All that exercise worked off dinner.”

I was in the kitchen before he could even say anything more.

The End!