Chapter 1

Cameron found himself at the grocery store after almost hitting 400 pounds at his last home weigh-in. He had convinced himself he was just a big guy, not a gainer, yet here he was on the bullet train to Fat Town. He was desperate to get back on track before it was too late. Not that his motivation to exercise at his size wasn’t already zero. At 5’ 9”, he felt he straddled the cusp of tall and short. Taller than every girl he managed to date, but shorter than every tall guy. He didn’t mind it. He was thankful for what he had, but did wish for more that day, just so he didn’t feel so weighed and squished down by how fat he was.

He had to acquire some semblance of control, or else, he would have to just commit to a complete hedonistic lifestyle. Currently, his biggest clothes were basically worse than being in the store naked, because at least the customers wouldn't be staring at him helplessly trying to keep all his butt and gut covered, forget about hidden. Being a man with a ‘dump truck’ butt was a mixed bag. It gave him some positive attention for his size, which in truth he didn't mind. He liked being big, but didn’t love the negative attention it often brought. He somehow felt better about people gaping at his shelf butt than his huge hanging belly.

He subconsciously grabbed at his belly, feeling a delicate affection for his most scrutinized part, only to find his sweats had slipped down and his lower belly was out again. He felt his cheeks warm, and did his best to quickly stuff himself back in. Pants up, shirt down, repeat.

He tried to ignore the hunger pains that were building. He didn’t eat yet, in protest of passing 400. 394 was too close. 400 was for true gluttons, and he had been so sure he just ate bad on the weekends. Maybe on a night of drinking here and there. But he and his friends pretty much ate the same. Sure maybe more on Cam's end, but that was expected. How much was their gym routine really offsetting? Maybe enough, since none of them were half as heavy as he was. The thought made his body tingle.

His cart was halfway filled with what he thought was pretty healthy, but mostly the concept was based on a vague idea of what that meant. Cam decided cold turkey would be assuring he was destined for failure, and he went down the snack aisle just for a few things for times of crisis. Suddenly, the top of the cart was covered in chips and cookies, all good choices buried. But then, he saw his favorite snack on the top shelf. He looked at the cart, which if anyone knew the goal he walked in with, he'd be mortified, because whatever an onlooker saw now just matched what a hater would assume. He was a fat pig who just snacked hard on chips and cookies. Part of him wanted to say they were totally wrong, but there was some truth in his case. Especially considering the fact that he put exactly those things in his cart to help him lose weight. He cringed at the thought. He was almost mortified from his own knowing, but his mantra of the moment was “something is something”. He was making a wellness effort, and if he didn't give himself credit, he had no shot.

He was actually great at setting goals. He was in the grad program and on the road to being an English professor, and potentially a writer on the side. Never a sports guy, since his mouth and mind could run faster and honestly hit harder. There was nothing like a witty snipe to silence someone trying to roast him. Cam had heard every fat joke there was, including the far more clever ones he thought up. He had them directed at himself in good fun, as well as in absolute malice. Drunk guys at bars loved to unleash all their fat hate on a big guy, and potentially some internal gay demons, because Cam often got rants from guys like that about his man breasts at length. “You got tits bro. Do you wanna be some sexy chick or something?” One guy had said, nearly falling while leaning on the building outside a party. Cam had smirked at his friends, who at that point lived for those moments.

“I mean if you're asking to see these sexy chick tits man, you'll have to subscribe to my Only Fans.” His group of friends cackling, Supa Hot Fire style, at the guy made him stumble away. But he wasn't wrong to notice, Cam's chest was substantial too. The rolls on his sides continued right into his moobs that rested heavily on top of his belly. When he was only chubby or kinda fat, probably sophomore year of undergrad, he had dated a girl who was obsessively interested in sucking his nipples, but after a while of his chest getting fatter, she confessed she wasn't into him anymore. She was “a chubby chaser, not a pig farmer.” That had stung, because he had been getting used to the idea that a girl could like him big, and feeling too big sucked.

But he kept growing. 250lbs was such a distant memory, he could hardly bring it up in his mind. Being as massive as he was was the only proof he could have been smaller before. He was getting that feeling all over again now. Too big. Too big for his clothes. To date. To ride the Superman, not that he was a coaster fan. But was he too big for himself? He thought going to the store with such urgency proved it, but as he contemplated the bag of kettle caramel corn, he wasn’t sure.

Despite it all, he reached for it, not caring that his gut was threatening to spill out his sweats again. He had decided he needed them for the car ride home. And the thought made his mouth water madly.

But then 5 bags fell onto him, in a quiet spectacle. Cam supported his hand on his knee, held his breath and began picking some up. Fate, with her perfectly timed intentions, sent a super jock down the aisle moments before, so he walked by right at the avalanche. The man effortlessly dipped down to help, only mildly judging Cam's disheveled appearance. He supposed a Chad would help a little fat guy when they could.

The guy asked if he wanted them in the cart or not, and in Cam’s hesitation, Chad threw it in and moved along. He watched him walk through the most unhealthy aisle of the store and not turn his head once. Maybe it was a short cut to the vegetables. The interaction left Cam feeling a bit warm, and suddenly more self conscious about being in sweats, even if they were black.

In the heat of his sexual frustration, Cam "raced" to check out. As if to slow him down from ripping the popcorn open and housing the bag, which was his full intention as soon as he sat down, he had to struggle to unload and reload his bounty, and navigate his ship of a body around the cart in the narrow check out area, managing to bump the candy display and displacing several candy bars, which he threw on the belt, weirdly too embarrassed to acknowledge he didn't mean to knock them out of the box with his butt.

He finally made it to his car, puffing from the urgent rush of embarrassment fueled hunger that was taking over him again. It had happened before, more often than he was willing to acknowledge to anyone, including himself. He ripped open the bag before he could properly shift into the front seat, his belly awkwardly catching on the wheel. He knew he wasn’t gonna turn a damn thing around when the sugar and salt covered his tongue and he licked his fingers for more. He started the car, still munching, fully ready to pull up on the nearest drive thru and go buck wild.