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This is a story about something that I've been going through lately. I've glorified a few characters and main points here and there, but all of it describes my feelings about gaining. I believe by writing this down, I have put my life into perspective. I've always gone back and forth about becoming a gainer, but I believe I have finally decided that it will always be a part of me. I've described my feelings about it in this story and hope that maybe someone out there shares the same idea.
“You need to get bigger, bro!”
Firstly, I was stunned that someone could still utilize “bro” in a constructed sentence this day and age with a serious face. Secondly, I was already fairly big at 180 pounds. I didn't need more padding on me, less I put on some well-adorned muscle of course. I had a little chub underneath my black fur but it was nothing unhealthy. But, he was talking about something else; bodybuilding. I always had the body for it – bodybuilding. My family is full of drunken barbarian-giants. It was in my blood, but I had never considered putting on some muscle until now.
I glanced at the thirty-or-so year old with a smile. The well-muscled gorilla was stuck in the 90's – he issues a series of stories enlightening the good days of rap and punk, which I always responded with a weary “eh, I think it's cool. I can't name some off the top of my head at the moment.”
The jumbo-ape was named Jason. He had muscles packed tight with the energy of a thousand men while still holding a sizable barrel-gut. The spherical mass poured over his belt buckle, yet hardly jiggled despite protruding an inch or two further than my own, flabby paunch. He was a foot shorter than me, but had surpassed my reasonable weight by ten or twenty pounds. He could undoubtedly pile drive me, or anyone in the vicinity through the floor. He was the one that always did the heavy lifting in the kitchen, but he spent most of the company's valuable hours swooning the ladies off of their feet instead.
“Come on, I'll train you! You'll be huge!”
Jason had taken a liking towards me. I was a hard worker, but I liked to eat. It showed the longer I stayed in the kitchen. There was always so many leftovers from work – I couldn't just let it all go to waste! He saw something in me that I didn't, and I appreciated the advice he gave me in order to get a body like his, but I was simply too shy to do it. It didn't fit my personality – I've always been a quiet sort of guy. I shuffled uncomfortably as some of my other coworkers snickered at our conversation. The sound of Styrofoam caught my ears and I glanced down as a couple meals wrapped in boxes were tossed into my hands. Not only did I get the leftovers I wanted, but another mysterious, heavy box laid on top.
“Eat up, big bear!” a skinny, ginger horse snickered as he handed me the food and waltzed away.
Blushing, I opened up the container and found four fatty porks swimming in gravy, a couple helpings of buttery mashed potatoes stuffed with a squad of bacon bits in it, and baked beans that would set my digestive system into a state of emergency. All of it was overflowing out of its container, and threatened to burst out of the box if I shuffled the wrong way. I wrapped it up carefully so that its contents didn't stream onto the floor. I gulped, knowing that the leftovers that I asked for was already pretty hefty; I had no need for more. The boxes weighed heavily in my hands as I stood side-eyeing the horse dancing away.
The gorilla grabbed my arm – a gesture that was strangely delicate for a big guy like him, and turned my attention away from the prancing pony. “Don't pay any mind to him. Landon is just jealous that he isn't like you or me. Plus,” he etched forward to whisper into my ear, “I know you can eat all that, big guy. You need to eat more to get stocked like me.”
“Oh!” I gasped, blushing as he let go. “I know I have a big appetite and all, but this is just too much! This will probably last me a couple days.”
Jason smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I guess the food will go in the dumpster, huh? Ain't no skin off my back.”
As he said it, he reached around my back and gave a three, HEAVY pats that shook my entire body. I nearly dropped the food as the impacts inched me a few inches to catch my balance. I stayed behind as my coworkers began to filter out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with a few servers. I took my leave, gulping as I eyed the food in my hands and walked home.
That night I simply ate too much. GORGED, even. I usually ate like a monster, but this was unusual. My appetite had increased tenfold since I started this job as a dishwasher in the kitchen. I ate all of it and then some, drowning it in a couple cans of soda. As I grew bored from playing video games, I gradually found myself lounging lazily on my bed. I folded my arm over my taut midriff and massaged my aching, bloated belly, listening to the booming sounds of my digestion system churning all of the greasy, buttery, fatty foods. I glanced at my phone and noticed I had a message.
It was from one of my friends – my gainer friends. I questioned if I wanted to read the message or not. A part of me wanted to leave the fetish behind and get fit, but so many others wanted to see me BIG. I loved eating, and I enjoyed the feeling of a little more on my bones. I always wondered what it would be like to be 250, maybe 300 pounds. Still, I knew the side effects to my health, and the issues it may cause with my low income. I had always denied this part of me, but I knew that deep down inside, I would never change.
Reaching over my midriff and giving it a good heft, I let out a well-deserved burp and sighed in relief. I felt like a stuffed pig, but couldn't get a mad smile off my face. I wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon with a belly this full, so I grabbed my phone, headed towards the bathroom, and turned on the water steaming hot. Shedding free of my clothes, I was happy to notice that my fur hid away most of the curvature of my belly, but I was still fairly chubby. There was no denying that I was starting to get fat – I was in the beginning stages where my moobs had started forming, and the cheeks on my face rounded out into two, soft helpings of flab.
I stepped into the bath and slid deep into the depths of the relaxing bubbles and fruity scents. As the water brushed away the excess food that may have missed my mouth from my fur and I settled lazily onto the floor, I let out a few satisfied burps under my breath and blushed. My stomach had finally calmed down, but it still felt like a rock, and my movements were so, so stiff. I laid my head back lethargically into the wall of the bath and splayed my arm slothfully over my belly, itching a circular pattern into my shadowy fur with a free claw. I grabbed my phone, wincing as I noticed the message again, and sighed.
“Come on, Robert. We need to accept this.” I said to myself, splashing my head with a little water to wake my spirits. Gulping, I slid open the message and noted that it was from Carson the raptor. He was always telling me to gain more, and frequently sent me requests to show off my body to him. He was never satisfied with how I looked – he always said to gain more.
I gulped and opened the message. It read, “Heya, big bear! I think you need to take your gain to the next level. I'm sending you something that might help. I hope to see results soon. I know you want it – a big, round belly. A warm hide. The ticklish jiggle of your body as you walk. Come on, nobody cares! You'll look great with a little extra on you. It isn't hard – just eat all you want!”
At the end of the message sat a link. I tapped on it with the tip of my claw and a website popped up detailing how to make shakes well over a couple thousand calories. My hand shook – it was too much. I couldn't gain like they wanted me to. It felt so out of place, and so very wrong. I felt sick just thinking about it, and lounged in the bath with my hand over my head. “What have I done?” I asked myself in the cold, lonely night. “This isn't me! Is it?!”
I spent the majority of an hour with my eyes closed, trying to meditate. I struggled to get out of the water, drenched and exhausted. It was so late, and I had to go to work early in the morning. I stretched my clothes over my frame and headed to bed, tossing and turning in my sleep.
The next day I immediately noticed how hungry I was despite the large meal last night. I always got this way after a big meal. It was like I stretched out my stomach by eating too much, and there was a black hole building up inside me; so much more room to stuff food. I was exhausted from digesting the hefty feast. Luckily, it was so early in the morning that the roads were clear. It wouldn't take long at all to get to work. However, there were bags under my eyes. It felt like I hadn't gotten a moment of sleep at all. I decided the best course of action was to drown myself in coffee before work.
Walking to McDonalds, I noted the heft and sway of my gait. My thighs were beginning to rub against each other, and became quite irritated. Both limbs lifted with each step, bellowing outwards like bagged sausages, and came crashing down with a mad jolt that caused my entire body to shake. The added weight made me regret not having a car. Still, that would probably make the issue even worse. At least I was burning off some calories this way.
Traveling by foot is known to be healthy, but it sure did build up quite an appetite. I built up a sweat not too long after bursting out the door, and I could only lick my lips anticipating what they would have to eat at work today. Before I even entered the door underneath that glowing M, my mouth was slobbering by the smells of their signature hotcakes and sausages. No, I could no longer only get a coffee. I needed something to satisfy this hunger or else I would be in a cranky mood all day. I never worked well on an empty stomach. Despite knowing that they'd probably get me breakfast at work, I decided this meal was necessary.
As I stepped up to the cash register, I noted how short the gazelle cashier was compared to me. She was eye-level with the lower curvature of my corpulent belly and could get a good glance underneath my chin, which was daring to form a loose second. Still, she smiled and said her hellos as I glanced over the menu. I gulped, eyeing all of their foods and stopping on the Big Breakfast with Hotcakes meal, and shook my head. No, I couldn't eat something so unhealthy! How could I find the vigor to even think about eating something like that after last night? I did this again, and again, and again, until the cashier stopped me.
“Have you ever tried our Mochas?” she said with a cheery, yet slightly agitated tone. There was a line building up behind me.
I grumbled, “No, but that does sound pretty good.”
“Oh, I love them. Especially the caramel ones.” She began ringing up the order without my consent, but I didn't care. “Anything else, sir?”
I eyed the meal again and sighed. I felt the pressure in my stomach relax and my gut spilled out into my hoodie. I unconsciously tried sucking in my stomach like this, but it was beginning to become useless, especially after yesterday's binge. Trying to draw attention away from myself, I glanced around itching my midriff. I mumbled, my two embarrassed, chubby cheeks glowing red, “Yeah, I'd like a B-”
“Big Breakfast with Hotcakes meal? Alright! Will that be all?”
I paid the order, grinding my teeth together as it came out to be much more expensive than I thought and collapsed into a flimsy chair that creaked under my weight. I eyed those few folk that had the courage to wake up this early and noted their small meals of a hash brown or a sausage-egg sandwich. Not too long after my corpulent ass enveloped the throne, out came my order on a large tray. The cashier handed me my order, smirked at all the food I was getting, and snickered as she turned tail and walked away. I shook my head and began to dine.
Three pancakes, a steaming hot sausage, scrambled eggs, and a hash brown sat in my path. I ate all of it, including the mocha that I wasn't so sure I wanted but drowned in anyways. The more I ate, the more I suspected people to eye me but they didn't seem to care. I couldn't believe how much I was eating right now – this was what, over 1,300 calories before I even got to work? That didn't even include my morning soda and Pop-Tarts. Oh, what was I worried about? I walk to and from work everyday which is bound to shave off a few calories. Plus, I'm a hard worker... right?
As I finished off the meal, I steadied myself to my feet and noted how sluggish I was. Oh, that was a lot of food, although I still felt a little empty. Somehow, McDonalds does that to me. I eat and eat and eat and it never seems to fill me up. I politely swept off the table of any excess crumbs and emptied the tray in the trash. The cashier eyed me with a sinister smile as I walked out the door.
Suddenly, I was reminded of one of my first crushes – my neighbor when I was just a wee lad, probably around 10. She knew karate and, at one point, knocked me off my feet within seconds. I was always a big guy, but somehow she could slam me into the ground with a couple simple sweeps and kicks. I was too young to tell that she had something for me. It wasn't until one day when we were behind the shed when she threw me onto the ground, collapsed on top of me and whispered, “I always liked big guys.”
Nothing ever came from that encounter. I saw her less and less as we grew older, and she moved away. I never realized how much she liked me until now. I've never been the most perceptive person when it comes to relationships, but I could only wonder what would have happened if I went for it. I've lost and gained weight several times and I can only remember getting glances when I was, well, fat. I never thought about it until now – maybe people liked the exotic aura that I could only get by being bigger. Maybe it was just destiny.
I waddled through the rambunctious parking lots and to work, appreciating that it was still cold enough to have an excuse to wear a hoodie to stuff away the sway of my protruding belly in its soft fabrics. Still, I arrived to work covered in a thin layer of sweat, and out of breath. The food had finally settled into my stomach, and I was beginning to get a little gassy. Luckily, I was the dishwasher that day so I could hide a few burps under my breath with no issue. The head chef could only guess the walk had made me thirsty and bought me a soda, which I downed gladly within seconds.
Landon, the crimson stallion, passed by with a smirk on his face. He was a good worker, but he had a unique skill delving into people's thoughts and figuring out what annoys them the most. For me, it was being helped. He always assisted with the dishes, despite my best effort to tell him that I could take care of everything. “Don't worry, I got it.” he would always say, getting in the way of my progress on the piles and piles of food. He always did a little bit more that he should, and responded with, “You look tired, maybe you should go on break!” I never argued, of course.
Throughout the morning, I snacked on some of the leftover bacon left when I passed by. My coworkers made my easy job even easier, and always made sure that I had food in my hands. I did just enough work to work up an appetite. It was a common issue among dietary workers – there was no doubting that they knew that I liked eating. I'm sure there were many other workers, like me, that had arrived and grown bigger because of their food. They seemed to enjoy watching my belt tighten around my waist, and the sudden change of pants as I grew too big to wear them. Even the medium sized shirt I bought no longer than a month ago was beginning to shrink against my belly.
Still, I worked hard and got the job done before I went out on these obvious binges. Nobody seemed concerned with how much I was eating. It was well known that I was the biggest eater there despite not being close to the fattest person. There were a couple people that were much fatter, perhaps reaching 400 pounds to my 180. Of course, they were most of the reason why I had been getting so much food. The head chef, a madly corpulent penguin had taken a liking to me. She was like a grandmother to me – always making sure I was stuffed to the brim and spoiled me to the point where I frequently forgot I had a job.
Her name was Rachel, and her food was addicting. I knew – we all knew that she added way too much butter and salt to her food. She would always tell me that the clients were too skinny. Her obese frame told other stories. None of us mentioned how fat we were. It was an odd sight to behold, especially for me, who had fallen into a desire to gain more weight. There were two different ends to this pathway – I could go the Jason route and be the muscle head I knew I could be, or there was the Rachel route that had plenty of steaks and wine.
And then there was that horse that made breakfast. So skinny - so energetic. Landon danced around us, working so hard that there was barely anything to do. He made sure we had down time to eat, and never forgot about getting me food. He made so much bacon, sausages and eggs that it could serve as two meals. I didn't want to say that I ate before coming here, so I only took a reasonable amount of each, but he eyed me as I did so. He knew that I could eat more, and stopped me as I was trailing away with a box full of his high-calorie food.
“Don't you want a biscuit?” the equine asked, his long snout winding up in a smirk. He glanced down at my belly, which had definitely rounded out into a fine curve. He could tell that I had a big meal before coming here. “I have so much left over. It's all going to waste.”
I slowly nodded my head, a lazily unkempt beard bellowing out of my face. I gulped as he opened another box and stacked two of his softest, most buttery biscuits into my hands and smothered it in country-style gravy with bacon bits in it. My stomach growled in response, knowing that I had been snacking consistently ever since I've arrived here. Without asking, he threw another spoonful of eggs and four fatty slabs of bacon in the box. His snout curled up in a grin, and I blushed as red as the very greasy bacon in my hands.
I turned, eyeing the food to ignore the sinister smirk stretching across his face. He gave my back a good slap as I turned away, jostling the loose fat around my midsection. I headed out back to gorge myself again.
I would work for an hour or so, breaking a sweat mostly because of the gratuitous amount of food churning in my belly until Rachel handed me more food from lunch and told me to go on a second break. As I sat lazing on a shoddy bench, I watched as the full plate of two burgers and fries slowly disappear. I wasn't hungry, no. I just didn't want to make the chef feel bad is all. Besides, the burgers were going to go down the garbage disposal if not my throat.
I was really getting lethargic now. I felt bloated, sleepy, and embarrassed. I had only been here for a month and discovered that I was quite the glutton. The worst part about it was they were giving me the silent treatment. They fed my hunger, knowing that I would eat every last bite. I felt sick, wondering if anybody else could have eaten everything loaded in to my paunch. I was getting attention now, even from the servers. They knew I wasn't the fastest on my feet, but there was no need for that because I stayed in one place most of the day. I got the job done faster than any other despite my the sweat rolling down my chubby cheeks. Most people liked me because I helped out wherever I could; at least when I wasn't gasping for breath.
The table situated against the dishwasher was the perfect height for me to lean on. It was perhaps the most unforgivable, laziest acts I could do, for my underbelly hooked on the corner to prevent me from falling. It lifted my gut up a few inches, further defining how big I was getting, but it kept me from putting to much weight on once foot. I had to stand in a half-sumo wrestler stance because I was so tall that I had to lean over, but it was rather comfortable.
When I started to grow tired, the severs would assist me, which they never did for the other dishwasher. One server, a lithe fox with a stark attitude, made an effort to do the dishes for me when things got backed up. I could only sit and watch with a smile as this happened because I was scared to confront her.
And then it came night, and everyone left. I eyed a browning banana, shrugged my shoulders, and ate that as well. It was about to spoil anyways. Mmm... that was the icing on top of the cake. Bananas always cooled my body down, and settled a good meal. Speaking of a good meal, I took two boxes of dinner and slouched home.
A few months passes, and a few servers came and went. The main kitchen staff stayed the same, however; it was well known that the kitchen was the best job in the retirement center. Despite eating like a pig, I had only gained ten pounds. Perhaps walking really had shed a few calories. Still, it was clear, especially around my midsection, that I was getting fatter. However, I also felt my legs and arms growing stiffer – it was muscle. It was nothing to be proud about, but it was there. I was actually thankful for it, because it only made it easier to work with extra padding on my body.
It is summer, and a thin layer of sweat was becoming commonplace on my body. I couldn't help but find myself wheezing at times, so out of breath that I had to step in the freezer for a few minutes. But, I kept the food shoveling down my gullet. Jason was proud of me – he could tell that I took some of my advice. He did note that I was getting quite a paunch, but mentioned that it mattered very little. All that mattered was the big guns that I'd get after working out.
But outside of work, I was the laziest person on the planet. I couldn't find myself to work out in the slightest like he told me to. I simply lounged around playing video games like I had always done before. And, Carson had mentioned again and again the shakes that he wanted me to indulge in. Despite my best efforts to listen to Jason, I may have grown quite lazy with bodybuilding.
Lying down in my bed, I wore only my underwear. Most of my clothes had grown too tight but it little mattered because I never traveled anywhere except to get food. The only things that I bought were work clothes, which I had to go up to a large. I flipped through my phone, scrolling through pictures of other morbidly obese gainers and smiled. Why had I taken such a fascination in fatter people? A part of me wishes that it was commonplace to be big, fat, and heavy. I want to see people's bellies bloat, including my own.
That's when I got the message – a message from Jason. I flipped over to it and it read, “I'm leaving the company. I know you need a car, so I've been wanting to give you my old Mustang. It might fall apart in a year or so, so I'll give it to you for real cheap.”
Oh no. This is what I had been dreading for a while now. I should be floored that I could get a Mustang, but something else was on my mind. Once I get a car, there would be absolutely nothing stopping me from gaining. My metabolism is so inclined for a person constantly moving and burning calories that suddenly removing that from the equation would make me gain so much weight. It's like a retired football player – they spent so much time eating and working out that when they quit playing and settle down, they become morbidly obese.
I unconsciously swallowed a large gulp of soda to ease my mind and smiled. Isn't this what I wanted? To finally become fat? Why was a part of me so scared of it? Nobody seemed to care, except for maybe Landon who would pester me until the end of time for it. I nodded my head, accepting the offer, and fell back to sleep.
The next month passes by, and I could feel the effects immediately. Removing the twenty-or-so minute walk to and from work, I no longer had knee pains. I no longer showed up to work sweating and panting. I had a little more energy for work, but one thing stayed consistent – my appetite.
It was too late now. I was in the deep end. I ate two breakfasts, one at McDonalds and one at work, a long break at lunch where I ate whatever was left over, and went home that very same day to gorge myself with two boxes of leftover dinner. I estimated, what, 5000-6000 calories in a single day? My body shook in response, growing nearly a pound every day. I woke up, went to the bathroom, and weighed myself every day, half-blissful that I finally started to gain weight and half-bewildered that I was doing this to my body. Oddly, it felt satisfying, like it fitted me well.
Things just kept getting better and better, for now I was no longer a dishwasher. I was a cook. I took Jason's place after he left, and started training with Rachel, who I had grown quite attached to as a leader. She was very nice when I was on her good side, yet very strict. I noted everything she taught me, and followed every order. She rewarded me with the job I had always dreamed of – being surrounded by food. I no longer had to do the back breaking work of lifting up dishes and cleaning them.
“Wow, this is pretty easy.” I said, mixing together gravy for some country-style chicken. “Maybe I'm just lazy, but using my brain is way easier than pushing and shoving those dishes through the washer.”
The penguin smiled and patted me on the back, “Well, you deserve to sit down and relax. You've been the best worker we've had in a long time. The hardest thing to do as a cook is to not eat your own food!”
As she said it, she slid me a slice of ham and we chuckled. It was obvious that everyone here gorged themselves and made way too extra so they could eat it. They didn't admit it, but we knew. It showed in our bellies that there was plenty of food that an elephant could live off of our leftovers. And, eat I did. I ate... and ate... and ate. I felt sluggish most of the time, but I no longer had the need to lift heavy gear anymore. I took a sedentary approach to everything I did now and was rewarded by the head chef. I had never been so happy in my life, despite knowing that if I continued eating like this, I would become obese like the very people near me.
Not only did Landon the horse start to comment on my gain, but the other dishwasher, a grizzled bull that was covered in scars and shed a scent of cigarettes became quite loathsome around me. He had been working there for almost as long as I had lived, and never got close to becoming a cook in the kitchen. He was obviously jealous, and made every effort to snicker and comment on my growing middle. He was never the smartest person, so it was actually quite entertaining to see what snarky comment he could construct in his drug-abused head.
I was lying on the floor of the dock outside the kitchen, my head comfortably propped up against my backpack on the brick wall. Sitting at about 220 pounds, I had a sizable paunch that was even more defined as I leaned my back partially into a ball. I paid no mind to what people thought of my weight any longer. I ate sizable porks, stripping them completely off of the bone. One by one, the bones stacked against my side. I could only smile. Just about a year ago, I was almost homeless. Now I have a car, a home, and a big belly full of good food. It felt like I was in a dream – everything was moving so fast. I thought I would have ended up in a creek somewhere by now.
“Heya, Robert!” a server shouted as they got out of their car. I lazily lifted up my stubby hand in response and they giggled until they reached the front door inside. Everyone liked me because of the work I did. I put thought and care into everything I crafted, and there was no moment where I felt as if I should be rude or mean to anyone. It didn't matter that I was fat to everyone. They accepted it, perhaps even better than me. As I stripped another pork and grabbed another, I sighed in relief. This was the life. I noted how full I was getting, so I moved onto a light bowl of banana pudding to settle everything down.
The door next to me swung open and I lowered to bowl to see who it was. It was Landon, and he glanced down at me like I was a child. He smiled at the stripped bones piling up next to my fatty love handle and the half-empty bowl in my hands. The horse strutted to my front and leaned his head over me, casting a shadow over half of my body. It was then that I noticed that he was hiding something behind his back.
He said, “It looks like everyone here can't help themselves, huh? It's easy to fall into the hands of gluttony here. I work hard so that doesn't happen to me.” The ginger horse revealed a box in his hands and tossed it onto my belly. My entire body jumped as the weight of it crashed down just above my belly button and made a singular, comical bounce before it settled in place in front of my nozzle. I could smell beef hidden inside. “You've been out here eating, right? Are you full? Well, there is so much more to be had, of course. You're the biggest eater here. Even Rachel can't pack as much food in her as you. I want to see just how much you can eat.”
The next thing I know, I was being handed twenty dollars. I glanced up at him, confused. Landon responded with a chuckle. “What? Can't I place a friendly bet? I want to see you eat all of those burgers inside. It's just a couple. I would get full after the first one, but I bet you can eat two of those, no problem. That pork was just a snack, right? I don't see how you can eat so much. I find it quite fascinating.”
I blushed, opening up the box and glancing at the juicy, fat burgers. I nodded my head and exclaimed, “You know, the reason why I eat so much is probably because I spent a couple years living off of ramen and peanut butter sandwiches. Not too long ago, I was heading towards the 150's. Ever since I started working here, I've gained nearly 70 pounds.” I gulped, remembering the taste of cheap ramen and shivered. “And you know, this lifestyle is much better.”
I took the twenty dollars, scrunched it in my hand, and downed the burgers with a beastial vigor. I even finished the pudding off, and smirked up at the horse. The stallion cocked his head in confusion, and said, “You're a strange one. I've always liked you, you know. You're a very likable person. You're a hard worker, like me, but I can't help but be confused. You look so comfy sitting there. Why work so hard if you don't have to?”
I shuffled uncomfortably, stiff as a brick and bloated like a frog's throat. “Why do you work so hard?”
Landon nodded his head and answered, “It takes my mind off of things.”
“Same thing with me.” There was silence for a few seconds, and I piped in again, “The work was killing me. I am a very ambitious person. Being a dishwasher was never on my list of goals, of course. Somewhere deep in the back of my head, I suppose I've contemplated gaining weight as a physical measure of my success. I'm fighting every day to be the best I can be. And...” I placed my hand on my stomach, pressed my palm into a particularly taut portion of my gut, and let out a loud burp. “I don't want to go back to living like a rat. I'll work as hard as a pack mule to get what I want. I prefer the luxurious lifestyle as a reward.”
The horse gulped and glanced up at the clear blue, summer sky. “I think I should say I'm sorry. You work harder than any of us, even me. Hey, uh... Do you want to go to a bar?”
On that day, the one that I hated the most at work became a friend. As the days went by, I had grown quite fat, but nobody seemed to care. I got a few glances from newcomers that were concerned about my appetite, but they quickly realized how impressive it was and had accepted that it was who I was. Jason the ape peeked in the kitchen every once in a while to check in how everyone was doing and smiled at me.
“What have I done?” The gorilla snickered with his hand over his forehead in awe.
“You need to get bigger, bro!”
Firstly, I was stunned that someone could still utilize “bro” in a constructed sentence this day and age with a serious face. Secondly, I was already fairly big at 180 pounds. I didn't need more padding on me, less I put on some well-adorned muscle of course. I had a little chub underneath my black fur but it was nothing unhealthy. But, he was talking about something else; bodybuilding. I always had the body for it – bodybuilding. My family is full of drunken barbarian-giants. It was in my blood, but I had never considered putting on some muscle until now.
I glanced at the thirty-or-so year old with a smile. The well-muscled gorilla was stuck in the 90's – he issues a series of stories enlightening the good days of rap and punk, which I always responded with a weary “eh, I think it's cool. I can't name some off the top of my head at the moment.”
The jumbo-ape was named Jason. He had muscles packed tight with the energy of a thousand men while still holding a sizable barrel-gut. The spherical mass poured over his belt buckle, yet hardly jiggled despite protruding an inch or two further than my own, flabby paunch. He was a foot shorter than me, but had surpassed my reasonable weight by ten or twenty pounds. He could undoubtedly pile drive me, or anyone in the vicinity through the floor. He was the one that always did the heavy lifting in the kitchen, but he spent most of the company's valuable hours swooning the ladies off of their feet instead.
“Come on, I'll train you! You'll be huge!”
Jason had taken a liking towards me. I was a hard worker, but I liked to eat. It showed the longer I stayed in the kitchen. There was always so many leftovers from work – I couldn't just let it all go to waste! He saw something in me that I didn't, and I appreciated the advice he gave me in order to get a body like his, but I was simply too shy to do it. It didn't fit my personality – I've always been a quiet sort of guy. I shuffled uncomfortably as some of my other coworkers snickered at our conversation. The sound of Styrofoam caught my ears and I glanced down as a couple meals wrapped in boxes were tossed into my hands. Not only did I get the leftovers I wanted, but another mysterious, heavy box laid on top.
“Eat up, big bear!” a skinny, ginger horse snickered as he handed me the food and waltzed away.
Blushing, I opened up the container and found four fatty porks swimming in gravy, a couple helpings of buttery mashed potatoes stuffed with a squad of bacon bits in it, and baked beans that would set my digestive system into a state of emergency. All of it was overflowing out of its container, and threatened to burst out of the box if I shuffled the wrong way. I wrapped it up carefully so that its contents didn't stream onto the floor. I gulped, knowing that the leftovers that I asked for was already pretty hefty; I had no need for more. The boxes weighed heavily in my hands as I stood side-eyeing the horse dancing away.
The gorilla grabbed my arm – a gesture that was strangely delicate for a big guy like him, and turned my attention away from the prancing pony. “Don't pay any mind to him. Landon is just jealous that he isn't like you or me. Plus,” he etched forward to whisper into my ear, “I know you can eat all that, big guy. You need to eat more to get stocked like me.”
“Oh!” I gasped, blushing as he let go. “I know I have a big appetite and all, but this is just too much! This will probably last me a couple days.”
Jason smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I guess the food will go in the dumpster, huh? Ain't no skin off my back.”
As he said it, he reached around my back and gave a three, HEAVY pats that shook my entire body. I nearly dropped the food as the impacts inched me a few inches to catch my balance. I stayed behind as my coworkers began to filter out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with a few servers. I took my leave, gulping as I eyed the food in my hands and walked home.
That night I simply ate too much. GORGED, even. I usually ate like a monster, but this was unusual. My appetite had increased tenfold since I started this job as a dishwasher in the kitchen. I ate all of it and then some, drowning it in a couple cans of soda. As I grew bored from playing video games, I gradually found myself lounging lazily on my bed. I folded my arm over my taut midriff and massaged my aching, bloated belly, listening to the booming sounds of my digestion system churning all of the greasy, buttery, fatty foods. I glanced at my phone and noticed I had a message.
It was from one of my friends – my gainer friends. I questioned if I wanted to read the message or not. A part of me wanted to leave the fetish behind and get fit, but so many others wanted to see me BIG. I loved eating, and I enjoyed the feeling of a little more on my bones. I always wondered what it would be like to be 250, maybe 300 pounds. Still, I knew the side effects to my health, and the issues it may cause with my low income. I had always denied this part of me, but I knew that deep down inside, I would never change.
Reaching over my midriff and giving it a good heft, I let out a well-deserved burp and sighed in relief. I felt like a stuffed pig, but couldn't get a mad smile off my face. I wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon with a belly this full, so I grabbed my phone, headed towards the bathroom, and turned on the water steaming hot. Shedding free of my clothes, I was happy to notice that my fur hid away most of the curvature of my belly, but I was still fairly chubby. There was no denying that I was starting to get fat – I was in the beginning stages where my moobs had started forming, and the cheeks on my face rounded out into two, soft helpings of flab.
I stepped into the bath and slid deep into the depths of the relaxing bubbles and fruity scents. As the water brushed away the excess food that may have missed my mouth from my fur and I settled lazily onto the floor, I let out a few satisfied burps under my breath and blushed. My stomach had finally calmed down, but it still felt like a rock, and my movements were so, so stiff. I laid my head back lethargically into the wall of the bath and splayed my arm slothfully over my belly, itching a circular pattern into my shadowy fur with a free claw. I grabbed my phone, wincing as I noticed the message again, and sighed.
“Come on, Robert. We need to accept this.” I said to myself, splashing my head with a little water to wake my spirits. Gulping, I slid open the message and noted that it was from Carson the raptor. He was always telling me to gain more, and frequently sent me requests to show off my body to him. He was never satisfied with how I looked – he always said to gain more.
I gulped and opened the message. It read, “Heya, big bear! I think you need to take your gain to the next level. I'm sending you something that might help. I hope to see results soon. I know you want it – a big, round belly. A warm hide. The ticklish jiggle of your body as you walk. Come on, nobody cares! You'll look great with a little extra on you. It isn't hard – just eat all you want!”
At the end of the message sat a link. I tapped on it with the tip of my claw and a website popped up detailing how to make shakes well over a couple thousand calories. My hand shook – it was too much. I couldn't gain like they wanted me to. It felt so out of place, and so very wrong. I felt sick just thinking about it, and lounged in the bath with my hand over my head. “What have I done?” I asked myself in the cold, lonely night. “This isn't me! Is it?!”
I spent the majority of an hour with my eyes closed, trying to meditate. I struggled to get out of the water, drenched and exhausted. It was so late, and I had to go to work early in the morning. I stretched my clothes over my frame and headed to bed, tossing and turning in my sleep.
The next day I immediately noticed how hungry I was despite the large meal last night. I always got this way after a big meal. It was like I stretched out my stomach by eating too much, and there was a black hole building up inside me; so much more room to stuff food. I was exhausted from digesting the hefty feast. Luckily, it was so early in the morning that the roads were clear. It wouldn't take long at all to get to work. However, there were bags under my eyes. It felt like I hadn't gotten a moment of sleep at all. I decided the best course of action was to drown myself in coffee before work.
Walking to McDonalds, I noted the heft and sway of my gait. My thighs were beginning to rub against each other, and became quite irritated. Both limbs lifted with each step, bellowing outwards like bagged sausages, and came crashing down with a mad jolt that caused my entire body to shake. The added weight made me regret not having a car. Still, that would probably make the issue even worse. At least I was burning off some calories this way.
Traveling by foot is known to be healthy, but it sure did build up quite an appetite. I built up a sweat not too long after bursting out the door, and I could only lick my lips anticipating what they would have to eat at work today. Before I even entered the door underneath that glowing M, my mouth was slobbering by the smells of their signature hotcakes and sausages. No, I could no longer only get a coffee. I needed something to satisfy this hunger or else I would be in a cranky mood all day. I never worked well on an empty stomach. Despite knowing that they'd probably get me breakfast at work, I decided this meal was necessary.
As I stepped up to the cash register, I noted how short the gazelle cashier was compared to me. She was eye-level with the lower curvature of my corpulent belly and could get a good glance underneath my chin, which was daring to form a loose second. Still, she smiled and said her hellos as I glanced over the menu. I gulped, eyeing all of their foods and stopping on the Big Breakfast with Hotcakes meal, and shook my head. No, I couldn't eat something so unhealthy! How could I find the vigor to even think about eating something like that after last night? I did this again, and again, and again, until the cashier stopped me.
“Have you ever tried our Mochas?” she said with a cheery, yet slightly agitated tone. There was a line building up behind me.
I grumbled, “No, but that does sound pretty good.”
“Oh, I love them. Especially the caramel ones.” She began ringing up the order without my consent, but I didn't care. “Anything else, sir?”
I eyed the meal again and sighed. I felt the pressure in my stomach relax and my gut spilled out into my hoodie. I unconsciously tried sucking in my stomach like this, but it was beginning to become useless, especially after yesterday's binge. Trying to draw attention away from myself, I glanced around itching my midriff. I mumbled, my two embarrassed, chubby cheeks glowing red, “Yeah, I'd like a B-”
“Big Breakfast with Hotcakes meal? Alright! Will that be all?”
I paid the order, grinding my teeth together as it came out to be much more expensive than I thought and collapsed into a flimsy chair that creaked under my weight. I eyed those few folk that had the courage to wake up this early and noted their small meals of a hash brown or a sausage-egg sandwich. Not too long after my corpulent ass enveloped the throne, out came my order on a large tray. The cashier handed me my order, smirked at all the food I was getting, and snickered as she turned tail and walked away. I shook my head and began to dine.
Three pancakes, a steaming hot sausage, scrambled eggs, and a hash brown sat in my path. I ate all of it, including the mocha that I wasn't so sure I wanted but drowned in anyways. The more I ate, the more I suspected people to eye me but they didn't seem to care. I couldn't believe how much I was eating right now – this was what, over 1,300 calories before I even got to work? That didn't even include my morning soda and Pop-Tarts. Oh, what was I worried about? I walk to and from work everyday which is bound to shave off a few calories. Plus, I'm a hard worker... right?
As I finished off the meal, I steadied myself to my feet and noted how sluggish I was. Oh, that was a lot of food, although I still felt a little empty. Somehow, McDonalds does that to me. I eat and eat and eat and it never seems to fill me up. I politely swept off the table of any excess crumbs and emptied the tray in the trash. The cashier eyed me with a sinister smile as I walked out the door.
Suddenly, I was reminded of one of my first crushes – my neighbor when I was just a wee lad, probably around 10. She knew karate and, at one point, knocked me off my feet within seconds. I was always a big guy, but somehow she could slam me into the ground with a couple simple sweeps and kicks. I was too young to tell that she had something for me. It wasn't until one day when we were behind the shed when she threw me onto the ground, collapsed on top of me and whispered, “I always liked big guys.”
Nothing ever came from that encounter. I saw her less and less as we grew older, and she moved away. I never realized how much she liked me until now. I've never been the most perceptive person when it comes to relationships, but I could only wonder what would have happened if I went for it. I've lost and gained weight several times and I can only remember getting glances when I was, well, fat. I never thought about it until now – maybe people liked the exotic aura that I could only get by being bigger. Maybe it was just destiny.
I waddled through the rambunctious parking lots and to work, appreciating that it was still cold enough to have an excuse to wear a hoodie to stuff away the sway of my protruding belly in its soft fabrics. Still, I arrived to work covered in a thin layer of sweat, and out of breath. The food had finally settled into my stomach, and I was beginning to get a little gassy. Luckily, I was the dishwasher that day so I could hide a few burps under my breath with no issue. The head chef could only guess the walk had made me thirsty and bought me a soda, which I downed gladly within seconds.
Landon, the crimson stallion, passed by with a smirk on his face. He was a good worker, but he had a unique skill delving into people's thoughts and figuring out what annoys them the most. For me, it was being helped. He always assisted with the dishes, despite my best effort to tell him that I could take care of everything. “Don't worry, I got it.” he would always say, getting in the way of my progress on the piles and piles of food. He always did a little bit more that he should, and responded with, “You look tired, maybe you should go on break!” I never argued, of course.
Throughout the morning, I snacked on some of the leftover bacon left when I passed by. My coworkers made my easy job even easier, and always made sure that I had food in my hands. I did just enough work to work up an appetite. It was a common issue among dietary workers – there was no doubting that they knew that I liked eating. I'm sure there were many other workers, like me, that had arrived and grown bigger because of their food. They seemed to enjoy watching my belt tighten around my waist, and the sudden change of pants as I grew too big to wear them. Even the medium sized shirt I bought no longer than a month ago was beginning to shrink against my belly.
Still, I worked hard and got the job done before I went out on these obvious binges. Nobody seemed concerned with how much I was eating. It was well known that I was the biggest eater there despite not being close to the fattest person. There were a couple people that were much fatter, perhaps reaching 400 pounds to my 180. Of course, they were most of the reason why I had been getting so much food. The head chef, a madly corpulent penguin had taken a liking to me. She was like a grandmother to me – always making sure I was stuffed to the brim and spoiled me to the point where I frequently forgot I had a job.
Her name was Rachel, and her food was addicting. I knew – we all knew that she added way too much butter and salt to her food. She would always tell me that the clients were too skinny. Her obese frame told other stories. None of us mentioned how fat we were. It was an odd sight to behold, especially for me, who had fallen into a desire to gain more weight. There were two different ends to this pathway – I could go the Jason route and be the muscle head I knew I could be, or there was the Rachel route that had plenty of steaks and wine.
And then there was that horse that made breakfast. So skinny - so energetic. Landon danced around us, working so hard that there was barely anything to do. He made sure we had down time to eat, and never forgot about getting me food. He made so much bacon, sausages and eggs that it could serve as two meals. I didn't want to say that I ate before coming here, so I only took a reasonable amount of each, but he eyed me as I did so. He knew that I could eat more, and stopped me as I was trailing away with a box full of his high-calorie food.
“Don't you want a biscuit?” the equine asked, his long snout winding up in a smirk. He glanced down at my belly, which had definitely rounded out into a fine curve. He could tell that I had a big meal before coming here. “I have so much left over. It's all going to waste.”
I slowly nodded my head, a lazily unkempt beard bellowing out of my face. I gulped as he opened another box and stacked two of his softest, most buttery biscuits into my hands and smothered it in country-style gravy with bacon bits in it. My stomach growled in response, knowing that I had been snacking consistently ever since I've arrived here. Without asking, he threw another spoonful of eggs and four fatty slabs of bacon in the box. His snout curled up in a grin, and I blushed as red as the very greasy bacon in my hands.
I turned, eyeing the food to ignore the sinister smirk stretching across his face. He gave my back a good slap as I turned away, jostling the loose fat around my midsection. I headed out back to gorge myself again.
I would work for an hour or so, breaking a sweat mostly because of the gratuitous amount of food churning in my belly until Rachel handed me more food from lunch and told me to go on a second break. As I sat lazing on a shoddy bench, I watched as the full plate of two burgers and fries slowly disappear. I wasn't hungry, no. I just didn't want to make the chef feel bad is all. Besides, the burgers were going to go down the garbage disposal if not my throat.
I was really getting lethargic now. I felt bloated, sleepy, and embarrassed. I had only been here for a month and discovered that I was quite the glutton. The worst part about it was they were giving me the silent treatment. They fed my hunger, knowing that I would eat every last bite. I felt sick, wondering if anybody else could have eaten everything loaded in to my paunch. I was getting attention now, even from the servers. They knew I wasn't the fastest on my feet, but there was no need for that because I stayed in one place most of the day. I got the job done faster than any other despite my the sweat rolling down my chubby cheeks. Most people liked me because I helped out wherever I could; at least when I wasn't gasping for breath.
The table situated against the dishwasher was the perfect height for me to lean on. It was perhaps the most unforgivable, laziest acts I could do, for my underbelly hooked on the corner to prevent me from falling. It lifted my gut up a few inches, further defining how big I was getting, but it kept me from putting to much weight on once foot. I had to stand in a half-sumo wrestler stance because I was so tall that I had to lean over, but it was rather comfortable.
When I started to grow tired, the severs would assist me, which they never did for the other dishwasher. One server, a lithe fox with a stark attitude, made an effort to do the dishes for me when things got backed up. I could only sit and watch with a smile as this happened because I was scared to confront her.
And then it came night, and everyone left. I eyed a browning banana, shrugged my shoulders, and ate that as well. It was about to spoil anyways. Mmm... that was the icing on top of the cake. Bananas always cooled my body down, and settled a good meal. Speaking of a good meal, I took two boxes of dinner and slouched home.
A few months passes, and a few servers came and went. The main kitchen staff stayed the same, however; it was well known that the kitchen was the best job in the retirement center. Despite eating like a pig, I had only gained ten pounds. Perhaps walking really had shed a few calories. Still, it was clear, especially around my midsection, that I was getting fatter. However, I also felt my legs and arms growing stiffer – it was muscle. It was nothing to be proud about, but it was there. I was actually thankful for it, because it only made it easier to work with extra padding on my body.
It is summer, and a thin layer of sweat was becoming commonplace on my body. I couldn't help but find myself wheezing at times, so out of breath that I had to step in the freezer for a few minutes. But, I kept the food shoveling down my gullet. Jason was proud of me – he could tell that I took some of my advice. He did note that I was getting quite a paunch, but mentioned that it mattered very little. All that mattered was the big guns that I'd get after working out.
But outside of work, I was the laziest person on the planet. I couldn't find myself to work out in the slightest like he told me to. I simply lounged around playing video games like I had always done before. And, Carson had mentioned again and again the shakes that he wanted me to indulge in. Despite my best efforts to listen to Jason, I may have grown quite lazy with bodybuilding.
Lying down in my bed, I wore only my underwear. Most of my clothes had grown too tight but it little mattered because I never traveled anywhere except to get food. The only things that I bought were work clothes, which I had to go up to a large. I flipped through my phone, scrolling through pictures of other morbidly obese gainers and smiled. Why had I taken such a fascination in fatter people? A part of me wishes that it was commonplace to be big, fat, and heavy. I want to see people's bellies bloat, including my own.
That's when I got the message – a message from Jason. I flipped over to it and it read, “I'm leaving the company. I know you need a car, so I've been wanting to give you my old Mustang. It might fall apart in a year or so, so I'll give it to you for real cheap.”
Oh no. This is what I had been dreading for a while now. I should be floored that I could get a Mustang, but something else was on my mind. Once I get a car, there would be absolutely nothing stopping me from gaining. My metabolism is so inclined for a person constantly moving and burning calories that suddenly removing that from the equation would make me gain so much weight. It's like a retired football player – they spent so much time eating and working out that when they quit playing and settle down, they become morbidly obese.
I unconsciously swallowed a large gulp of soda to ease my mind and smiled. Isn't this what I wanted? To finally become fat? Why was a part of me so scared of it? Nobody seemed to care, except for maybe Landon who would pester me until the end of time for it. I nodded my head, accepting the offer, and fell back to sleep.
The next month passes by, and I could feel the effects immediately. Removing the twenty-or-so minute walk to and from work, I no longer had knee pains. I no longer showed up to work sweating and panting. I had a little more energy for work, but one thing stayed consistent – my appetite.
It was too late now. I was in the deep end. I ate two breakfasts, one at McDonalds and one at work, a long break at lunch where I ate whatever was left over, and went home that very same day to gorge myself with two boxes of leftover dinner. I estimated, what, 5000-6000 calories in a single day? My body shook in response, growing nearly a pound every day. I woke up, went to the bathroom, and weighed myself every day, half-blissful that I finally started to gain weight and half-bewildered that I was doing this to my body. Oddly, it felt satisfying, like it fitted me well.
Things just kept getting better and better, for now I was no longer a dishwasher. I was a cook. I took Jason's place after he left, and started training with Rachel, who I had grown quite attached to as a leader. She was very nice when I was on her good side, yet very strict. I noted everything she taught me, and followed every order. She rewarded me with the job I had always dreamed of – being surrounded by food. I no longer had to do the back breaking work of lifting up dishes and cleaning them.
“Wow, this is pretty easy.” I said, mixing together gravy for some country-style chicken. “Maybe I'm just lazy, but using my brain is way easier than pushing and shoving those dishes through the washer.”
The penguin smiled and patted me on the back, “Well, you deserve to sit down and relax. You've been the best worker we've had in a long time. The hardest thing to do as a cook is to not eat your own food!”
As she said it, she slid me a slice of ham and we chuckled. It was obvious that everyone here gorged themselves and made way too extra so they could eat it. They didn't admit it, but we knew. It showed in our bellies that there was plenty of food that an elephant could live off of our leftovers. And, eat I did. I ate... and ate... and ate. I felt sluggish most of the time, but I no longer had the need to lift heavy gear anymore. I took a sedentary approach to everything I did now and was rewarded by the head chef. I had never been so happy in my life, despite knowing that if I continued eating like this, I would become obese like the very people near me.
Not only did Landon the horse start to comment on my gain, but the other dishwasher, a grizzled bull that was covered in scars and shed a scent of cigarettes became quite loathsome around me. He had been working there for almost as long as I had lived, and never got close to becoming a cook in the kitchen. He was obviously jealous, and made every effort to snicker and comment on my growing middle. He was never the smartest person, so it was actually quite entertaining to see what snarky comment he could construct in his drug-abused head.
I was lying on the floor of the dock outside the kitchen, my head comfortably propped up against my backpack on the brick wall. Sitting at about 220 pounds, I had a sizable paunch that was even more defined as I leaned my back partially into a ball. I paid no mind to what people thought of my weight any longer. I ate sizable porks, stripping them completely off of the bone. One by one, the bones stacked against my side. I could only smile. Just about a year ago, I was almost homeless. Now I have a car, a home, and a big belly full of good food. It felt like I was in a dream – everything was moving so fast. I thought I would have ended up in a creek somewhere by now.
“Heya, Robert!” a server shouted as they got out of their car. I lazily lifted up my stubby hand in response and they giggled until they reached the front door inside. Everyone liked me because of the work I did. I put thought and care into everything I crafted, and there was no moment where I felt as if I should be rude or mean to anyone. It didn't matter that I was fat to everyone. They accepted it, perhaps even better than me. As I stripped another pork and grabbed another, I sighed in relief. This was the life. I noted how full I was getting, so I moved onto a light bowl of banana pudding to settle everything down.
The door next to me swung open and I lowered to bowl to see who it was. It was Landon, and he glanced down at me like I was a child. He smiled at the stripped bones piling up next to my fatty love handle and the half-empty bowl in my hands. The horse strutted to my front and leaned his head over me, casting a shadow over half of my body. It was then that I noticed that he was hiding something behind his back.
He said, “It looks like everyone here can't help themselves, huh? It's easy to fall into the hands of gluttony here. I work hard so that doesn't happen to me.” The ginger horse revealed a box in his hands and tossed it onto my belly. My entire body jumped as the weight of it crashed down just above my belly button and made a singular, comical bounce before it settled in place in front of my nozzle. I could smell beef hidden inside. “You've been out here eating, right? Are you full? Well, there is so much more to be had, of course. You're the biggest eater here. Even Rachel can't pack as much food in her as you. I want to see just how much you can eat.”
The next thing I know, I was being handed twenty dollars. I glanced up at him, confused. Landon responded with a chuckle. “What? Can't I place a friendly bet? I want to see you eat all of those burgers inside. It's just a couple. I would get full after the first one, but I bet you can eat two of those, no problem. That pork was just a snack, right? I don't see how you can eat so much. I find it quite fascinating.”
I blushed, opening up the box and glancing at the juicy, fat burgers. I nodded my head and exclaimed, “You know, the reason why I eat so much is probably because I spent a couple years living off of ramen and peanut butter sandwiches. Not too long ago, I was heading towards the 150's. Ever since I started working here, I've gained nearly 70 pounds.” I gulped, remembering the taste of cheap ramen and shivered. “And you know, this lifestyle is much better.”
I took the twenty dollars, scrunched it in my hand, and downed the burgers with a beastial vigor. I even finished the pudding off, and smirked up at the horse. The stallion cocked his head in confusion, and said, “You're a strange one. I've always liked you, you know. You're a very likable person. You're a hard worker, like me, but I can't help but be confused. You look so comfy sitting there. Why work so hard if you don't have to?”
I shuffled uncomfortably, stiff as a brick and bloated like a frog's throat. “Why do you work so hard?”
Landon nodded his head and answered, “It takes my mind off of things.”
“Same thing with me.” There was silence for a few seconds, and I piped in again, “The work was killing me. I am a very ambitious person. Being a dishwasher was never on my list of goals, of course. Somewhere deep in the back of my head, I suppose I've contemplated gaining weight as a physical measure of my success. I'm fighting every day to be the best I can be. And...” I placed my hand on my stomach, pressed my palm into a particularly taut portion of my gut, and let out a loud burp. “I don't want to go back to living like a rat. I'll work as hard as a pack mule to get what I want. I prefer the luxurious lifestyle as a reward.”
The horse gulped and glanced up at the clear blue, summer sky. “I think I should say I'm sorry. You work harder than any of us, even me. Hey, uh... Do you want to go to a bar?”
On that day, the one that I hated the most at work became a friend. As the days went by, I had grown quite fat, but nobody seemed to care. I got a few glances from newcomers that were concerned about my appetite, but they quickly realized how impressive it was and had accepted that it was who I was. Jason the ape peeked in the kitchen every once in a while to check in how everyone was doing and smiled at me.
“What have I done?” The gorilla snickered with his hand over his forehead in awe.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Bear (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 85.1 kB
Listed in Folders
I’m happy I took the time to read this out of all the other stories on this webpage. It reminds me that lesser known writers still can have a lot of talent, and you are no exception. There were a few grammatical errors, but overall it was pretty well written! As a fellow writer myself I really appreciated this all. I don’t know how accurately this actually captures your life, but I could certainly feel the connection to it. I have a similar situation with gaining as well with people wanting me to (though I never have really). I won’t go too deep, but this really was a great read. Just from reading this I get the sense that you’re a rather swell person to be around.
Daw, thanks! If you would, point out the grammatical errors for me. I'm definitely not the best at writing, but I do like it. It gives me freedom to speak my mind. And yeah, within the last year I got a new job and have gained 40 pounds. I haven't really encountered any issues with gaining so far except I don't have enough money to eat as much as I need to. It's changed my life around, definitely.
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