Chapter 1

I sit at my desk, tapping my pencil against the edge, glancing around the room. Class should be starting any second now. Although the professor hasn’t shown up either, so I guess there’s still time. That’s not really what’s on my mind though. I can’t stop wondering where he is. The guy who’s occupied way too many of my thoughts lately. A crush I’d call it, if I’m not too old for that. I haven’t seen him since before spring break, and honestly, the anticipation is killing me. What’s taking him so long? Is he even coming? Usually, he’s here before class even begins.

I wonder how his break went. Maybe he visited home, or went somewhere exciting like most seem to do? No, no way. He’s not the type. He’s too… soft for that. I’d bet he just stayed home—lazed around all break, probably doing nothing but snacking, sitting in front of the TV. The thought makes me smile. That's more him.

I glance at the door again just as it opens, and there he—holy shit. Is he… bigger? My heart skips a beat, and I have to do a double take. I stare, trying to process what I’m seeing. Oh, he’s bigger. Definitely bigger. Not by much, maybe ten pounds or so, weight doesn’t show up as easily when you’re his size, but it’s enough for me to notice. His hoodie hugs his chest and stomach a little tighter, and his sweatpants? God, they don’t even look like they fit anymore.

Fuck, how did he get bigger? He must have done nothing but eat all spring break. He doesn’t seem to care—or maybe he doesn’t notice? Can’t he tell how much fatter those clothes make him seem? With all that extra weight pressing against the fabric, clinging to his softness, highlighting every extra pound… Does he even know how sexy he looks?

He walks past a few students chatting near the aisle, muttering a quiet “excuse me” as he maneuvers his way around them, his body brushing up against the edges of the desks. There’s a slight flush on his cheeks, and his breathing is heavy. It’s like just walking across the room is an effort for him. It’s clearly hard for him to move around, but he’s trying to make it seem like it’s nothing. The way his body shifts with each step, the soft jiggle of his belly and chest… I can’t take my eyes off him.

When he finally sits down, the seat groans under his weight—I swear I hear it. He adjusts himself, angling his body to the side to give his belly more room, but it still spills over the sides. The sight sends a tingle through me. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the sudden rush of arousal. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not here, not now. But God, how can I not? He looks even better like this—softer, fuller, almost... helpless. He has no idea what he’s doing to me, sitting there like that, his belly pushing up against the desk.

The professor walks in, starting her lecture with what we’ll be covering for the rest of the semester, but her words wash over me. I’m not paying attention. How can I focus when he’s sitting right there, shifting around, trying to get comfortable in a desk that clearly wasn’t built for someone like him? With every one of his movements I feel another wave of arousal tighten in my belly. He’s fidgeting, adjusting himself, and I wonder if he’s aware of just how much space he’s taking up now. I try my best to redirect my thoughts back to the lecture, but my eyes keep drifting back to him, to his hands as he writes, those chubby fingers gripping the pen. I’ve missed those fingers. Oh my gosh, focus. Focus.

After some time, he reaches down toward his backpack, and a wave of heat rushes through me. His hoodie rides up as he bends forward, exposing a soft roll of flesh at his lower back. I suck in a breath, my eyes locked on that strip of skin, the way it folds and creases over the waistband of his pants. He’s even softer than I thought. When he sits back up, he pulls out not one, but two candy bars. Two. What a good piggy. I watch, fascinated, as he unwraps one and takes a bite, setting the other one on the desk. Can he really not go a single class without eating? The thought of him being so ravenous, so dependent on food, sends a shiver down my spine. Is he really that hungry? Poor thing. He must be starving after dragging himself across campus.

I start daydreaming—imagining him in bed, soft and lazy, eating like this. My fingers twitch as I think about feeding him. Even just for a weekend. I’d feed him everything he wanted, seeing just how much he could handle before he’s too full to move, filled with food and taken over by pleasure. The fantasy is so vivid that I have to shift in my seat, trying to keep my composure. My heart’s pounding. What would it feel like to have him on top of me? His heavy body pressed against mine, pressing me into the mattress? The thought is too much, and I can’t help but bite my lip again. Why am I thinking about this in the middle of class? What’s wrong with me? I scold myself, but deep down, I know the answer. I’m obsessed with him—his size, his softness, his hunger. Why does he have to be so fucking hot?

He finishes the first candy bar and moves on to the second without hesitation. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about it. I’m staring, but I can’t look away. It’s so cute that he’s so helplessly hungry, that he can’t go more than an hour without shoving something into his mouth. I’m dying to know how much he weighs now. I wish I knew. If only I’d known him before this semester. I wonder how much he’s gained since the beginning of the year. Was he ever slim? What if he’s gained all this weight just in college? God, that’d be so hot. I hope he keeps getting bigger and bigger over the next few months, ballooning up even more… Shit, I can’t keep riling myself up. What was the professor saying?

He lifts his water bottle and takes a long drink. I watch his throat move, captivated by the simple act of him quenching his thirst. He pauses, stifling a small burp, and it makes my mind spiral. Does he have a girlfriend? Maybe even a feeder? Someone who feeds him like I want to? The thought makes me hot. Would he even like that? Letting someone else indulge him, offering him bite after bite of fattening food and watching him grow softer and heavier with every meal. I can almost see it, someone sitting across from him, coaxing another bite past his lips, running their hands over his belly the way I dream of doing. It’s hard not to picture myself in that role, giving him everything he craves. But then again, maybe he doesn’t need anyone. Maybe he’s just that greedy, gaining all that weight on his own. The thought of him stuffing himself, driven by his own hunger, is even better.

The sound of zippers and backpacks being packed up snaps me out of my trance. I blink, looking around in confusion. Is class over already? I check the time. Yeah, it’s been an hour. Somehow, I’ve managed to take zero notes, my notebook filled with random doodles instead. One of them is a cartoonishly chubby figure, and I flush as I quickly flip the page. My eyes drift back to him. The professor gives some last-minute reminders as people start leaving, but he’s still sitting there, not getting up yet.

Other students squeeze past him, and he tries to make himself smaller, but it’s no use. He’s too big, the porker. I stand, slowly packing up, taking my time just so I can watch him a little longer. I can’t help it. Finally, he grunts softly as he heaves himself out of the chair, his breath puffing out when he’s fully upright. His hoodie rides up again, and he tugs it down, adjusting his clothes as he reaches for his backpack.

Then, suddenly, his eyes meet mine. My heart leaps into my throat, and I quickly look down, pretending to fiddle with my things. Crap, he saw me staring, I think, panic bubbling up inside me. But he doesn’t say anything. He just walks out, his wide rear swaying with every step. I can’t help but watch him waddle away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as I count the days until our next class.