Chapter 1

The elevator was broken.

Which meant that Ben was huffing up five flights of stairs. He was panting by the time he got to the top. Sweat gleaned on his brow as he flopped down on the couch of the common area of their suite, an inch or two of belly visible as his shirt rode up slightly. His round face was flushed red as he leaned back, double chin folding back on itself. His shirt was soaked with sweat in the September heat and clung to his body, accentuating every ripple of flesh.

Which is when Logan, one of his suitemates, strode through the door. Logan was similarly damp, but for a different reason. Evidently, he’d just come back from another session at the gym. The fit, tight-bodied blonde contrasted violently with his fat, ginger roommate. He strode over confidently, and then with a mean swing he slapped Ben’s belly as hard as he could, making his entire body jiggle.

“Whaddup Big Ben?” he asked cheerfully, “did you run a marathon?”

“The elevator was broken,” Ben replied, “and would you stop calling me that?”

“Whatever you say, roly poly Benjy.”

“And that,” Ben insisted, “do you have to do this every time you see me?”

“You can stop me any time,” Logan said, “Just lose all this.” He reached out a hand and jiggled Ben’s gut.

“It’s not that simple or that easy,” Ben said.

“Sure it is,” Logan said brightly, “just diet and exercise. Millions of people do it every year.” He squeezed one of Ben’s moobs and then sauntered off, tight, muscular ass pressing against his shorts.

Ben sighed. It had been like this all of last year, and now it was likely to continue to be this way. From the moment they’d met freshman year, Logan loved to poke fun at Ben’s weight. It hadn’t helped matters that Ben had gone from merely chubby at the beginning of the year to packing on an additional fifty pounds by year’s end, bringing the 5’10” man up to about 250 pounds.

Logan, by contrast, had remained essentially the same, 5’8” and 155 and built like an Adonis. His sexual exploits were the source of great gossip on campus, and every girl (and plenty of guys) seemed to want to jump into his pants. He loved walking around campus shirtless, showing off his washboard stomach and pecs, just like he loved to grab at Ben’s love handles or moobs or slap his belly.
Ben wished Logan knew what it felt like to be this size. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so cocky and arrogant.


It was later that day that it happened. Charice, who lived a floor below them, stormed into their suite in a furor and pounded on Logan’s door.

“Logan,” she shouted, “open the fucking door!”
Ben heard the click as Logan opened it. He heard the smack of Charice’s hand across his cheek.

“Who the fuck is she?” Charice demanded.
Logan mumbled something inaudible.

“We fucking well were exclusive,” Charice retorted, “you said you loved me.”

Another mumbled reply. The exchange continued for a few more minutes and then Charice stormed away in a huff.

It was a week later that she turned up at Ben’s door.

“I need your help with something,” she explained. She sat down on his bed. “You know how my dad’s from Haiti?” she asked. Ben nodded.

“well,” she continued, “my grandmother is what they call a mambo, a Vodou priestess, kind of. I told her about Logan, and she told me to make these.” She presented him with two dolls, one with a waning and one with a waxing moon crocheted onto it.

“A voodoo doll?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I know he gives you a hard time about your weight,” she continued, “and I wondered if we couldn’t both get a little of our own back….”


Ben couldn’t believe what he was doing. He looked out of his window at the cloudless night, bereft of any illumination from the new Moon. He turned and began his work. He carefully opened up the doll that was supposed to represent himself, a round overstuffed doll with one of his hairs in it, and pulled out the stuffing bit by bit, and putting it in the one supposed to represent Logan, an understuffed one with one of his own hairs.
Built into each was a sample of every article of clothing they had – Charice said it would grow with them. He did his work quietly, imagining what it would be like for Logan to swell up, his razor blade jawline sinking beneath flesh while his own belly shrank.

It was at that moment that Logan opened the door.

He stared for a moment, the chortled.
“Charice dragged you into her crazy voodoo shit?” he said with a cocksure grin. “She told me her whole idea. ‘As the moon grows, so shall you. As you grow, he’ll shrink.’” He snickered. He picked up the waxing moon doll. “Is this one me?” he asked, “fat chance, pun intended. I’ll never look like that.”

“Who knows,” Ben replied, heaving himself up. “Maybe you’ll know what it’s like to have this,” he gave his belly a shake.

Logan scoffed. “I’m sorry I got you mixed in with that crazy bitch, Big Ben.” he closed the door with a snicker. He dropped the voodoo doll on the floor.

Ben picked up the discarded doll and resumed his stuffing. About an hour later, something remarkable happened. A surge of electricity seemed to flow through him, making the hairs on his neck stand up. He stood and looked out the window. A tiny sliver of light had begun to grace the limb of the otherwise dark moon.


Logan walked back from the pizza place by the dorms, hot package in hand – and he didn’t just mean himself. He held in his hand a tin of mega fries, a local delicacy, fries, cheese whiz, mozzarella, bacon, ranch dressing. He couldn’t partake too often – not if he wanted to keep his washboard stomach – but every so often he liked to treat himself.

Speaking of treat… He winked at a group of freshman girls walking past him. A few of them giggled as he swaggered away. Little did they know he’d fucked all of them; they all thought it was special, just the two of them.
Sitting down at the couch and turning on Sports Center, he opened his prize. The smell washed over him, even better than he remembered. An electric tingle washed over him, and he felt his hunger intensify into something irresistible. He forked the first mouthful into his mouth. It tasted better than it ever had, and that first bite only intensified his hunger.

Mind-numbing ecstasy washed over him as he shoveled the fries into his mouth. He moaned with pleasure and was surprised to feel himself getting hard as he ate. He opened the bottle of soda he’d bought with him and chugged it all in one go, then resumed his feast.

He lay back on the couch, basking in an afterglow he had never felt from food before. He looked over at the tin to see that it was empty – which surprised him, as normally he saved half for lunch the following morning. He placed a hand on his distended belly and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.