Cosmic Changes

Chapter 1

Itamar was a Tel Aviv landscape architect, a man of clean lines, minimalism, and a steady weight—always hovering around 75 kilograms. He was somewhat fit, even maintaining a loose Paleo diet. His life was orderly, almost entirely devoid of surprises.

That was until one Saturday morning in the Jaffa Flea Market, where he stumbled upon an old, nearly hidden stall selling food that looked as if it had been plucked from a book of fairy tales.

"A sausage, sir?" an old man with twinkling eyes asked. "A sausage that will change your appetite forever."

The sausage was strange. Large, thick, and deep purple with a faint silvery shimmer, it smelled like a mix of cattle and spring blossoms.

"What is this?" Itamar asked, trying to figure out if this was a new culinary fad or a psychedelic experience.

"It’s from the kitchen beyond the stars," the old man smiled. "Won't you try a taste? One bite, and you'll be full."

Something in the old man's voice, or perhaps the silver glint of the meat, enchanted Itamar. Contrary to his calculated nature, he pulled out a few shekels and took a bite. The flavor was explosive: salty, sweet, spicy, umami—all at once. In a single bite, he felt his stomach stretch, as if he had swallowed an entire feast. The rest remained wrapped in paper, floating in his hand like a dream.

That night, Itamar couldn't fall asleep. Not from hunger—he was stuffed to the bursting point from that single bite—but from a strange sensation of internal expansion.

He thought it was just heavy digestion, but when he woke the next morning, something felt different. The top button of his jeans was straining.

"Strange," he thought, "I don't usually bloat like this."

The pressure on the button was no accident. Within three days, the jeans wouldn't close at all. Itamar’s belly, which had always been flat, began to round out. Slowly, but with an unstoppable determination, as if a living thing were growing inside him. Every day, looking in the mirror, he watched his waistline broaden.

This wasn't "normal" fat from slow accumulation; it felt like a filling. As if he were being pumped with heavy, soft, dense air.

His skin began to stretch. At first, it was a light itch, then thin reddish lines appeared—the first stretch marks, drawing a map of future growth. His shoulders rounded, his thighs widened, and his rear began to sag under new weight. He wasn't eating more; in fact, his appetite—save for a quiet, internal hunger unrelated to food—hadn't changed. He continued his small meals, but his body simply kept growing.

Within a week, his belly became a prominent sphere. Within a month, it was already spilling slightly over his waistband. The skin of his stomach was soft to the touch, unusually warm, and the center of his gut began to hover slightly over his groin. He took to touching it, feeling the slight vibration of the new mass, like an alien force operating within him. His cheeks filled out; his sharp jawline softened and rounded. His chin became a double, and his eyes took on a soft, tired look. His thighs began to rub together when he walked.

The skin there, unaccustomed to the friction, began to redden. His knees felt the strain. He started panting while climbing stairs. Bending over to tie his shoes became a complex mission that required effort. He could no longer sleep on his stomach—only on his back or side, with his massive gut spilling out to the edges. Every movement was accompanied by a slight creaking of joints and an involuntary sigh.

His clothes became a joke. Shirts wouldn't button, buttons popped, and pants tore at the seams. He was forced to wear only oversized t-shirts and wide sweatpants. His "minimalism" vanished, replaced by an excess that took pride in its presence. He gained 30 kilograms in two months without any dietary changes. It was magic, and it was terrifying.

He tried to understand what had happened, but the man from the flea market had vanished. He realized this was either a curse or a gift, and for now, he felt like a prisoner inside his own inflating body. He was a Tank built without a commander.

Itamar’s physical transformation did not go unnoticed by the world. Old friends stared in shock. "Itamar, what happened to you?" they asked in worried or horrified voices. He lost several landscape architecture jobs because he could no longer move easily through the terrain. He began to feel lonely.

Itamar, always a rational man, found himself facing a reality bordering on the absurd. He entered online forums, researched, and looked for similar stories. He stumbled upon communities of "gainers" and "feeders"—a world he never knew existed. At first, it shocked him.

But the more he read, the more he understood that this was the only place where his reality was the norm. He wasn't just getting fat; he was becoming a project.

Itamar decided to try his luck in the "mainstream"—to find a woman who would be attracted to his "heaviness" but would also understand the "magic" happening to him, or at least be open to it.

He updated his profile on various apps, not out of despair, but out of curiosity. He wrote in his bio: *"Tel Aviv landscape architect, lover of green spaces and giant meals.

Expanding in soul and dimensions. Looking for someone who loves a man who surrenders to the joy of food and enjoys filling the world with new mass." He added a photo of himself, smiling, his belly already bulging, holding a massive plate of pasta.

Lihi was a pastry chef. She was a small, energetic woman with quick hands and intelligent eyes.

She loved to bake, and for her, seeing someone eat her creations with gusto was the ultimate success. Itamar's profile caught her eye.

"Expanding in soul and dimensions?" she laughed to herself. It was intriguing. They met in a small cafe. Itamar arrived, huffing slightly after climbing the stairs.

His large belly was already spilling over his belt. Lihi, with her delicate frame, almost vanished beside him.

"Hello, Itamar," Lihi said in her clear voice. "You certainly are as massive as you wrote in your profile." She smiled.

Itamar blushed slightly. "Yes, I've expanded a bit lately. It's quite new to me."

"New and exciting," Lihi said, her eyes sparkling. "What would you like to order? I heard you like giant meals."

"Actually, I completely trust you. Order me whatever you think will fill me to the brim. I'm ready for the challenge."

Lihi gave a wide, almost predatory smile. "A challenge? I love challenges. I think I’m done with 'landscape architecture'... I think I'm going to be a 'belly architect' tonight."

She ordered him the largest breakfast on the menu: a 4-egg omelet, finely chopped salad, fatty cheeses, fresh white bread, butter, and jam, plus a giant plate of pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream. For herself, she ordered a coffee.

Itamar ate. He ate with blatant pleasure, bite after bite. He felt his stomach stretch further and further, as if the cosmic sausage from the flea market had woken up inside him and demanded to be filled.

Lihi sat across from him, her eyes shining, watching every bite that entered his mouth, every inch that his gut expanded, and the skin that became coated in a fine sweat.

"You need to eat more of the pancakes," Lihi said. "They are excellent with the cream."
Itamar sighed in satisfaction. "I feel like I'm about to explode. But... I can't stop."
"And you don't have to," Lihi whispered. "Trust me, you're just getting started. I have so many recipes for you. Rich cheesecakes, pasta in cream sauces, ice cream and peanut butter shakes... I think we can build you a belly that won't be believed."

From then on, Itamar and Lihi's lives became an ongoing project of building mass. Lihi took on the role of "The Architect" completely.

She built him weekly menus of thousands of calories—without telling him the exact number, so he wouldn't interfere. She bought him new clothes every month, clothes that flattered his round, ever-growing gut. She would stroke his belly as he fell asleep after a heavy meal, feeling his stretching skin, his increasing softness, and the slight movements of the mass within.

The physical change continued: Itamar passed the 100-kilo mark, then 120. His belly became a giant, shelf-like gut that hung deep over his thighs and blurred his groin. His thighs rubbed together powerfully; his neck almost completely vanished into the fat.

He could no longer move easily; every movement was deliberate and required effort. Breathing became a heavy task, emitting deep sounds of slight wheezing. Every shirt eventually tore. Lihi bought him specifically wide clothes, sometimes even large women's garments, just for his comfort. She sewed him a tiny cow-print bikini, which he would wear at home as his massive stomach spilled over it like a giant lump of dough.

Lihi would whisper in his ear during meals: ״One more bite for Mommy, my teddy bear. Let’s make the gap between us impossible."

She would bring him a funnel, pouring cream-laden shakes, sparkling water, and soda through it, enjoying the sight of his belly inflating to the point of pain, his face flushing, and the small moans coming from his mouth. She would wipe the drops that trickled onto his belly, stroking his soft, stretching skin. People on the street would stare at them—the enormous man led by a small, delicate woman with a look of pride in her eyes. They didn't understand the connection, but Itamar and Lihi knew. Every additional kilo was a testament to their love, to the joint construction of something vast, uncontrollable, and liberated from convention.

He no longer felt "flawed." He felt whole. Heavy, soft, limited in movement—but finally in the place where he was meant to be. Completely dependent on his Architect, who celebrated every new wrinkle of fat, every stretch mark that joined the map of his body. The cosmic sausage of the flea market wasn't a curse; it was the catalyst that released the whale within him. When he looked at himself, he saw a mountain. A mountain of flesh and softness. A mountain he and Lihi built together, bite by bite, caress by caress, and whisper by whisper. He was a Tank, and she was the Commander who made him everything he dreamed of being, and beyond.