Chapter 3 - 3

I wake at the start of my clock alarming. 6:30 AM. I reach over to my bed-side table and hit the off button. No need to get up, school's out. We're on break.

It's been a month since I brought home that chicken. An arguably good, confusing month. I have woken with an erection and begin to instinctively hump my bed. I soon stop as the motion proves too uncomfortable for my still-full stomach.

Eating an entire batch of cookies at 2 AM will do that to you.

I made them for my teachers to hand them out but the weather report came in at around nine last night: the freezing rain that had just started closed the schools, giving everyone an extra day of Thanksgiving break. That evening, I do what I always do before a break, I make cookies for my teachers, something my dad instilled in me. A big batch of chocolate chip.

After I finished my second helping of dinner, I went ahead and grabbed a handful of cookies to take up to my room, but as the night went on, I found I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about that huge pile of cookies downstairs that wasn't going to get eaten tomorrow. I tried to finish watching a season of TV on Netflix, but I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't keep myself from feeling my full stomach and rubbing my hard cock.

I had told myself I needed to stop doing this, that it was unhealthy and disgusting, but I gave in. I sneaked downstairs, wrapped all the cookies up in a clean hand towel, and stole them away to my room to slam them down on my bed while slowly masturbating.

I've found that the best orgasm comes only after you've finished all the food available.

I don't always make it through an entire meal before I come, though. I usually don't. Pretty much any time I go out and buy a bunch of fast food, I always lose early. The anticipation of actually driving out to buy a bunch of food at Burger King or Taco Bell is always too much for me, and I am ready to blow my load early.

Anyway.

This is what I've been doing for a month.

I roll onto my side and massage my gut. It's no longer hard like it is every night, just slightly soft as it's become recently. It dents slightly as I press my fingers in. I've never been fat. This isn't fat, not really fat.

I snap out of it and haul myself into a sitting position, ignoring the fold of flesh forming over my lap. I stand up and pull out the wedgie from my boxer briefs I slept in. I've got to get to the bathroom.

It's been bugging me for a week now, my weight. I've been avoiding the scale in the bathroom, seeing it every day, dreading to think that I have gained weight. I've ignored the mirror, focusing on my face, still thin as ever, and ignoring how I feel in my clothes. I save that for midnight. I haven't gone a day without that kind of masturbating, that self-serving. It's become a habit now. Nothing beats it.

What sent me over the edge last night as I sucked the last of the cookie crumbs off my fingers was how the fact that I HAVE been avoiding the scale. That I've been putting off checking because I know I MUST have gained weight and that I know that I'm a little fatty who's been avoiding the truth and who's been stuffing himself like a pig and who's-

I've been leaning against a wall in my room, grinding my palm against the head of my dick. Yep, still hard.

My parents are never awake this early. I know how to lightly cover the ground between my bed and the bathroom. I close the door very quietly and turn on the light. The scale is tucked under a shelf by the shower. I pull it out and step on. I refrain from touching myself until the numbers settle.

151.



151.

I quickly do the math.

17 pounds.

Jesus.

Since LAST time.

That's over twenty pounds including the weight I truly unconsciously. That's 26 pounds. I step off the scale, put it away, and immediately look in the mirror.


I don't understand. I don't look it at all. Looking at myself, straight on, there's hardly any trace of gain besides the slight swelling of my stomach. Sure it pooches out slightly, but not 17 pounds worth.

My sides push over the waistband of my boxer-briefs more than my stomach does. A good half-inch pushes out on either side of me. Still not 17 pounds worth. Maybe five from where I already was. I turn and look at myself in profile.

Oh.

Okay.

That makes sense.

My butt is sticking out much more than I am used to. My underwear is clinging tightly to my cheeks. I can see a small fold of skin where my ass meets my thighs. It's visible because how my boxer-briefs are clinging, it leaves a little space underneath.

The top of the waistband is riding the top of my ass tightly- it looks like it is creating a divide where the bottom of my roll-like back-fate curls up on top of my underwear.

That can't be right.

I pull my underwear down halfway down my ass. Jesus, it's tight with my erection.

Nope. No illusion there. My back fat is forming a bump right on top of my butt regardless of whether there is underwear pinching there or not.

The waistband is very tight halfway down my ass. My upper cheeks are practically ballooning over.

This would explain why I've been having trouble fitting into my jeans- I knew it wasn't my stomach. It was my butt taking up more space and not leaving any room in the front.

I reach down and feel my right ass cheek with my right hand, underneath my underwear. It's very soft, and larger than I ever remember something on my body being. I try to take a handful of it then freeze. I don't feel the bottom of it.

I have pretty big hands for my height.

I yank down my underwear to my thighs and turn around, looking over my shoulder at the mirror.

I try and squeeze my ass again.

I can't squeeze it all.

My ass is too fat to grab all of it in one hand. I press in and see the fat there give way. The fat there. I lift it up and drop it. It jiggles. I have a fat jiggly ass. I have a bubble butt that I can't fit into my jeans.

I quickly reach for the toilet and yank the toilet seat up. I am furiously stroking my cock with my left hand and squeezing my ass with my right. I look down and see the rolly bump of my stomach fat squishing as I slam the top of my fist into it as I masturbate.

I can't stop looking at this body in the mirror; so familiar and just different enough to scratch a growing itch deep in my libido.

I'm a f*cking fat-ass, all I do is eat and jack off over my puffy out-of-shape body. This is too much, I'm getting f*cking fat and

I come quick painful jets into the toilet. I came very quickly. Jesus. It hurts from last night's session, but I don't care. I look in the mirror and quickly see my red, flushed face and half-lidded eyes.

I quickly turn away and head back to my room to go back to sleep.