Chapter 2 - paolo 1

Chapter II
Paolo
Gabby’s place, December 22nd, 1.50 am

When I saw Trevor entering Gabby’s living room, something stopped. I was having a conversation with my teammates, but my jaw fell on the floor immediately.
I don’t know what he ate, but he got… chunky. I mean, Trevor is pretty known for gaining some pounds during the cold days, but this time… God, he surely stuffed his face like a pig.
And it’s an Italian saying this. An Italian encourager, to be even clearer.
When he says hi to everyone and his new chubby cheeks cover the lower part of his eyes, my dick starts getting thick. It gets thicker when I immediately notice an interlude of a future overhang. It’s literally ten, twenty pounds away to cover his belt with that soft cushion. And, I mean, it was at this point even last December, but there’s something different. He’s noticeably bigger, but not fat.
Carl and Billy, the only two members of the water polo team knowing about my encourager identity, immediately take me by a side, smiling.
“For fuck sake, Trevor Phillips probably ate his own grandma again” says Carl, laughing his ass off.
“He didn’t get THAT fat” I say, still staring at him. We are hidden by other people, so I can rush to fix my dick in the underwear without looking too much like a pervert.
“He always loses all his weight, anyway. You know, drama club and stuff. He’s like a less famous and less masculine Christian Bale” adds Billy, trying to help me to focus on something that could limit my boner. It seems to work when I think about that time me and Trevor Philips talked at a party and I could barely stand him.
It was last spring, he was being really cocky because he was talking to Jonah, his ex-boyfriend, about how he lost 10 pounds in two weeks. Of course, he doesn’t know I preferred him a bit chunkier, but even when he was 10 pounds heavier… he was still a fucking stick, for Christ sake.
This time, though, it seems to be just plumper than what he would look with a couple of extra lbs. Just when my boner seems to be hideable, Trevor rotates 180° to hug Gabby.
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
Eve n with a denim jacket trying to cover it, my eyes still focused on the lower parts of the body. His ass doubled in size. And let’s not talk about his legs, I don’t want to explode in front of everyone. Trevor didn’t only gain some winter weight like usual. He’s on the edge of being properly overweight.
Carl calls me with a gentle voice. He looks embarrassed. He points at my dick.
I roll my eyes, putting my bottle of white wine in front of my package while crossing the main corridor for going to the bathroom at the bottom of the stairs.
It may sound unusual, but since I moved from Italy to the United States with my parents, I jerk off a lot more instead of hitting on guys. I thought I got a bit shyer because of the language barrier, but I think it’s simply because, even in a small town like Nitts, the choice I have between fat North-American gay guys is insane. At the same time, I hate one night stands or having affairs with multiple guys at the same time. I guess that the Green Card lottery has its downsides.
I start masturbating, even if someone outside is already kicking the door to get in. I imagine touching Trevor’s chunky butt cheeks, squeezing them without control, feeding him some fat Italian food in my room to make him massive. I see myself offering him an ice-cream every day before school, and one after, or texting him to sneak to the school bathroom for some fast feeding session.
I see him dropping from the drama club and starting an OnlyFans. Those thunder thighs just need to get a bit bigger to become a money machine.
I feel like I’m about to cum, but then I feel so out of place I stop myself. I mean, Trevor probably doesn’t even like gaining weight, he’s always so proud when he loses it. I feel so bad and guilty that my boner disappears immediately, and so does my party mood.
I look at myself in the mirror, I’m angry as fuck. I just want to go home and play basketball.
I hate the fact that I will never have a sexually fulfilling and yet important romantic love story in my life. I feel like before meeting people who could be datable I already objectify them because of their weight. It’s insane how imprisoned I feel in this gainer-encourager world. It's so gross and wrong but so liberating and right at the same time.
I’m not ugly, I’m funny, I’m sweet and I have manners. I am a gentleman. I know how to cook, my partner could let himself go as much as he’d like and I’d still love him. I have played in the water polo team since I was in middle school, so you know I have the body, and I am curious, so you know you can talk about whatever and I will always be interested in what you are saying.
But no, the only thing wrong with me is also the only barrier between me and a healthy relationship with another guy. The way I see my possible partners is both the most arousing dream and the worst nightmare. What strongly pops up in my mind while dreaming about Trevor is me feeding him, making him huge. It’s just something that is not going to happen, but it’s still what I see on a first sight. The cute scenes, like us watching a film on the sofa or going for a New York trip, fight to stay relevant. And, probably because of the alcohol, in my mind they are just less colorful than the scenes where I suck his nipples while he moans like a fat bitch.
I get out of the bathroom because I feel like I may get another instant boner, and there I see Trevor, on the other side of the living room, looking around and understanding that many people are staring at him as if he was an alien.
I get closer to him, a bit starry eyed because of my meltdown. I ignore the people looking at me.
I want a boyfriend, I want to fall in love. I want to change what I think about guys.
And fuck yeah, if my boyfriend gets obese in the process even better. I may not find Trevor interesting as a person, but I just can’t stop looking at him like he became a God. So, fuck all of this mental shit, I want to risk it.
“Don’t listen to them. You look way better like this” I say, in front of his friends and Gabby. I look at him straight into his blue eyes, probably about to cry. He stays silent, with his mouth open.
He gets red on those cheeks. I blush too.
I think I literally said he’s fat.
People laugh, all around us.
I get mad, I think about how strong my Italian accent still is even after moving here ages ago. My mind goes blank, I can only run away from the party before even receiving an answer from Trevor.
I start running, Carl and Billy continuously call my phone number but I refuse to pick up.
I need some space. I tried to do something brave and I just fucked up my reputation in front of all my mates. Trevor probably thought I was crazy or that I was making fun of him. Both the options make me look like a ***. I’m a fucking ***.
I stop running. I take a big breath.
What the hell happened to me back there?