Male feeder x male feedee

Chapter 1 - sweet revenge

Technically speaking, Jamal brought this on himself.


He knew that eventually, all the times he encouraged Trey's late night snacking habits, stuffing his boyfriend until his belly grew round and taut would lead to a moment like this--a moment when Jamal realized that for once, HE was the one biting off more than he could chew.


Before he'd started packing on pounds (with Jamal's generous assistance of course), he had always admired his boyfriend's long, slender fingers. They were the fingers of a skilled piano player; thin and calloused and strong, but capable of such a delicate touch.


Naturally, a couple things about Trey had changed from a few dozen pounds ago. That happens when someone goes from eighty pounds soaking wet to teetering on the edge of three hundred over the course of a year. Now only the barest hint of his knuckles were visible, little dimples punctuating the rings of pudge that encircled the joint of each digit. He hadn't played the piano in quite a while. (Jamal vaguely recalled that the last time he had tried, those chubby hands of his weighed him down and that ever-growing belly paunch got in the way.)


Those hungry fingers took their sweet time roaming all over Jamal's skin, stroking and groping and cupping his ass so tenderly it made him shudder with want.


And Trey was more than happy to oblige.


Those fingers, those thick, heavy, luscious goddamned fingers gently pinched his thighs so suddenly it made him squeak. Instinctively, Jamal grabbed his boyfriend's shoulders, and Trey's warm chuckle made him blush.


Trey drew Jamal up against his belly, proudly protruding out from his midsection despite its emptiness, and snuck a hand into Jamal's underwear.


And then without so much as a flick of his wrist, he slipped one of those divine fat fingers inside Jamal's ass.


The noise that escaped Jamal was embarrassingly loud, and though he'd long since buried his face in his shirt, he could practically feel his boyfriend's smirk.


Smug bastard.


Jamal had gotten too used to being the one in control; after all, he was the one feeding Trey until his belly stretched taut and tight against the confines of his clothes. And he was the one who spent hours exploring the soft pucker of Trey's arms, teasing him for getting winded after climbing two flights of stairs.


Maybe that was hubris.


Jamal was starting to understand why whenever he coyly invited Trey to use his hands in the bedroom, his boyfriend would flash him the sweetest smile and ask him to be patient--there was a very big difference between taking such a bony length and an index finger with the circumference of a kiwi fruit.


All Trey needed to do in order to have him bucking helplessly against his palm was flex that deliciously fat finger in a lazy staccato rhythm. It felt like he was doing everything in his power to make Jamal short of breath, as if to pay him back for teasing him so often.


Jamal couldn't deny it, he wouldn't mind getting used to this kind of revenge.