Chapter 1

Once, he was called The Stallion. Tom had been the pride of the college football team—an unstoppable force of muscle, speed, and raw stamina. After they won the championship, the locker room turned into a celebration worthy of legend. They chanted his name, showered him with praise, and when the crowd left, the real celebration began. A gaggle of cheerleaders swarmed him, purring like kittens in heat. That night, he pleased every single one of them, again and again. For over three hours, he was a lion king on his throne of towels and victory, relentless, tireless, dripping with sweat and glory.

But that was three years ago.

Now, Tom groaned as he tried to shift his enormous bulk on the couch, his belly spilling over the edge like a fleshy waterfall of indulgence. Every inch of him had grown—his thighs squished together like overcooked hams, his arms thick and soft, and his once-toned chest now rested like two pillowy mounds atop the massive globe of his gut. The couch creaked violently beneath him, its cushions flattened into pancakes under the sheer immensity of his backside.

He huffed and panted, cheeks puffing like a steam engine. “Lisaaa…” he wheezed, waving a pudgy hand. “Too full… can't move…”

Lisa, his ever-devoted girlfriend and former cheerleader, giggled as she stepped back and admired the beached monument of flesh she’d spent the entire evening feeding. Plates still littered the coffee table—greasy pizza crusts, empty frosting tubs, a half-eaten lasagna tray, and the gutted remains of a whole birthday cake (not even his birthday). His belly was shiny with butter stains and powdered sugar, rising and falling in slow, labored heaves.

“The last time we weighed you,” she said, putting a hand on her hip, “you were 611 pounds. But that was before the triple cheese fondue. I’m guessing 640 now, stuffed to the brim.”

Tom groaned, shifting a little. The effort caused a loud fart to escape, and the couch groaned louder.

Lisa sauntered over and slapped his belly, watching it jiggle like an ocean wave. “Come on, big guy,” she cooed. “I want some bedroom fun. You’re gonna have to get upstairs for it.”

Tom’s eyes lit up behind folds of cheek. “Bed... fun?” he mumbled, attempting to swing one leg over the side of the couch. It took several tries, with Lisa grunting and shoving behind him, before he finally stood—legs trembling, belly bouncing, breath short.

“The lift,” he gasped. “Take the lift…”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You used to fit in the lift.”

Tom waddled slowly toward the hallway, each step a monumental effort. His thighs rubbed together with obscene slapping sounds, and his belly swayed from side to side like a wrecking ball. When he finally reached the old lift—installed years ago for Lisa’s grandparents—he turned to squeeze in… and stopped.

The lift doors wouldn’t close. His belly pressed against the frame like a bulging balloon.

“Try sideways!” Lisa called.

Tom turned, huffing, red-faced, but it made no difference. The cabin was too narrow. His belly jutted out too far.

“It’s… it’s too big,” he whined. “I’m too big…”

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Aw, poor Stallion. Stuck in the hallway with a giant gut and a hard-on.”

Tom looked down, his gut obscuring everything. “I can't even see it!”

Lisa walked up behind him and pressed her hands into the overhang of his belly, lifting it slightly. “Maybe you’ll earn some extra dessert if you can haul that ass up the stairs.”

Tom whimpered.