The mind of a fatboy

Chapter 4 - Awaken, My Love

Reese opened his eyes to an almost pitch-black bedroom. He had fallen asleep curled inward, clutching his aching stomach, but woke up physically refreshed, albeit a little groggy. His prior state of anxiety had entirely disappeared in however long he'd been asleep and, as he tried to wake up a little more, Reese found that he could hardly recall the thoughts that ran through his head after breakfast. All he was sure of was that he'd definitely gone to sleep upset.

Enzo's resounding footsteps could be heard from the other room, moving busily from place to place amidst the noise of pots and pans clanging together. Reese, in his freshly-awoken stupor, listened until the clanging was traded for sounds of running water and, finally, a minute of silence.

He could then recognize a series of footfalls approaching his door, throwing out the quick decision of whether or not to pretend to be asleep or not. Why bother, Reese ultimately decided.

The door cracked slightly open, then swung all the way once Enzo's keen gaze adjusted to the darkness and onto Reese, at last awake. The smaller man had his body propped up by his elbows, the rest of him lying flat atop his bed. He was still in his baggy tee and beige sweats from the morning. Enzo thought his legs, though toned underneath, far too skinny. Had he flipped his housemate over, he knew he would find plenty of room to grow, even considering the round little bubble butt that shaped the outline of his pants. Pants, which needed to be tight. A roommate of Enzo's could own nothing baggy.

"Dinnertime," he cooed, moving fully into the room with a plate in one hand and a tall glass in the other. When Enzo set down the glass on the nightstand, the air around Reese's head filled quick with the intoxicating aroma of chocolate and cream. Reese could feel the acne surfacing just from the scent of the rich milkshake.


"What... what's the time?" Reese asked in a coarse morning voice. "How long was I out?"

"Fourteen hours," Enzo answered innocently, pulling out his phone with his free hand to show the proof. He had this big, dopey grin plastered onto his face, ever the lighthearted one.

Reese instinctively squinted due to the bring light. "Fourteen... hours?" he echoed, in utter disbelief.

"Uh?" Enzo laughed, just as confused. "Isn't that the usual? Ever since you quit your job, man. You're a real sleeper."

It was true. Reese had nothing to wake up for, nowhere to go. It was summertime and, without the gym, a job, or many friends, the college student had nothing to do but whatever Enzo felt like doing at home. His sleep schedule was wrecked.

Obviously, Enzo had something to do with it. Reconsolidating memories at nighttime is just as critical to hypnosis as the trigger words of daytime. Reese had been covertly medicated with enough to put him in REM sleep for twice, even triple his usual amount, his pliable brain flooded with an onslaught of wet gainer dreams. Desires to pig out. Reconstructions of past sexual partners, all a hundred pounds heavier.

"Plus, food coma," Enzo added, earning a scoff and a smile from Reese. "Together we put away... shit, like 30 waffles."

That should have gotten to him. Reese had been so worked up about his excessive eating and his bloated stomach earlier in the morning. Something deep in his mind was aware of that too, kicking the skinnier one's heartbeat to a quicker tempo.

"Shit," he hissed, his eyes darting away while his brain worked to fill in the gaps.

But there was no enlightenment to be had. All Reese could remember from breakfast was eating a delicious, big meal, and then learning the therapeutic wonders of belly rubs. He looked back up to Enzo, who stood over his bed bathed in moonlight, the top of his full, puffed chest just barely in the frame of the light.

"You must be hungry," said Enzo, seating himself on the edge of Reese's bed. Closer in view, it was now apparent how deceptive the plate in Enzo's hand was. It was filled to the brim with mashed potatoes and fried chicken, layered precisely to optimize the volume of food it could hold.

When Enzo inched closer, the greasy smell of freshly-fried chicken exploded in the air, melding with the sweet, chocolatey scent in Reese's periphery.

"No, no, I just woke up," Reese insisted after a second's delay. He was never hungry right after waking up, let alone for such a grand meal.

Still, Enzo inched closer. "You sure?" He lifted the plate of chicken and potatoes up. "Not even a no-thank-you bite?"

Reese hesitated. "I'll... okay, no-thank-you bite," he murmured defeatedly, the red coloring his cheeks hidden in the darkness.

"Better," said Enzo with a grin, inching closer. He lifted a chicken tender, the crispy skin coating his thick fingers in grease.

"I pulled the bones," he assured, floating the tender to Reese's mouth as he sat up. "Open."

As commanded, Reese's pouting lips parted to accept the tender, suckling the sweet honey sauce that dripped off the tender and ran down his chin. A thin line of sauce traveled from his shiny lips and onto Reese's shirt, but either could hardly think to care.

In that moment, nothing was as important as shoving every damn piece of chicken into Reese's mouth.

As the first piece slid further in, Reese bit down, his steady breath gliding against Enzo's fingers. He chewed fast, then dropped his jaw again without a command, his pleading eyes moving up and down from the tender to Enzo's satisfied gaze. His smile had retreated into something more serious, more intense.

"Good boy," Enzo muttered, shoving the last half of the tender into Reese's mouth in time for the receiver to close his lips, slurping the grease and sauce off Enzo's fingers as they slid out of his mouth.

A ravenous gulp followed and Reese's mouth dropped again. Enzo answered by shoving another piece of chicken into Reese's mouth, which he swiftly chewed once again, beginning to moan. The sound of sheets shifting gave Reese away for placing his hand on his twitching dick, the eroticism of the moment causing it to throb unbearably.

"Thought you weren't hungry," Enzo said roughly, sending a spoonful of mashed potato into Reese's grease-coated mouth.

"More," he moaned, lurching forward to stick his face in front of the plate. There was still plenty of food to get through, and both of them couldn't be happier about it.

Something in Reese's demeanor was changing before Enzo's eyes, transforming him into a far cry from the mild-mannered man he usually was. His tongue was wildly licking his lips while he panted heavily, unceremoniously breathing in the smell of Enzo's fatty dinner. He craned his head forward to grab a handless bite of chicken, but was stopped short by Enzo's other hand on his head.

At once, Reese was pulled upward by his short, brown hair and his head was tipped back, his mouth still wide open.

"You like it better when I feed you," said Enzo, whose arm had become something akin to an automatic feeding machine.

Jaw agape, Reese's only job was to accept the food being pushed into his mouth, chew it, and revel in the sensation of his stomach being filled by his distractingly thick housemate. Every time he opened his eyes he was greeted with Enzo’s tits straining against the tank he had on, and every time his dick went wild.

Enzo let go of Reese's hair when he stood up, not for a second halting the process of stuffing Reese's face. The little man doubled over, new to both the sensations of being full and having his hair pulled so roughly.

Sparing Reese no break, Enzo grabbed his chin with a strong hand, noting how he almost could have wrapped it all the way around the twink's pencil neck. "Don't slow," he ordered, holding Reese's head in place while more food was loaded down his throat. Grease coated the lower half of his face, but he could hardly stop to think about his poor skin.

He just wanted more.

Fifteen minutes later, and all that remained was Reese's pregnant belly, a very pleased Enzo, and the rich, chocolatey shake waiting on the nightstand.

Reese had forgotten about that.

Exhausted from the stuffing, he collapsed backwards onto his bed, cradling his gut as it shifted from a flabby rock spilling over his waistband and into a very slightly pudgy, but nonetheless overstuffed plateau.

Setting the empty plate down for good, Enzo's eyes met Reese's, promising the moaning twink of what was to come. Not breaking eye contact, he reached for the milkshake and sat back down on the bed, this time atop Reese's legs with his knees spread.

In the faint moonlight, Reese lifted his neck to watch the scruffy man crawl towards him on his tree trunk thighs, the tall glass of fattening cream in hand. Everything about Enzo was thick, and it was so hot watching the wideness of his form overtake Reese's entire visual field. Their faces at the same level, Reese could see more clearly a slight fullness to his cheeks, definitely not something he was born with. Everything about Enzo's features screamed ex-jock, whether it be the broadness of his shoulders, the apparent muscle underneath the fat hanging off his ginormous torso, or the half-faded stretch marks lined across his biceps, armpits, and elbows.

Reese tipped his head back without help this time, sat up only slightly to avoid choking. Enzo held the thick milkshake precariously high above his face, and when he poured it, most of it went it into Reese's mouth. The rest was liberally spread across the man's nose and mouth, dripping down to join the grease stains on his shirt.

Reese gasped weakly when Enzo gave his very full gut a firm slap, then made it even by punching his own stomach, sending a ripple up his towering, bulky figure.

"Did you like that, fatboy?" Enzo teased, his hot, heavy breaths filling Reese’s ear. He then gave Reese’s stomach another surprise slap. It was comically distended from his wiry body, but still easily hidden under the big shirt he wore to bed. All he could do was moan, helpless to Enzo's guile.

"Have a nice rest," said Enzo, and the rest was a blur.