Description Ben’s enormous gut seems like it can’t get any bigger. Does that sound like a challenge to you?
|Updated||16 May 2020|
My roommate Ben was cooking when I entered the kitchen. Even though we were the same age, he seemed like much more of a real man than I was. His frame was packed with muscle, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. The shirt he was wearing was at least a size too small, and looked ready to tear from the size of his massive biceps and the width of his back. It was also too short: an inch of his six-pack was showing, along with a nice hint of fur.
Meanwhile, I looked like a piece of grass in the wind. I weighed barely 130 pounds and I was totally exhausted from my first day at the gym. Why had I joined? I couldn’t handle all the comments any longer: the comments about my stature, my weight, my skinniness. Even Ben would joke about me from time to time, but at around 200 pounds of muscle, he was at least in a position to joke about weight. I’d only spent an hour and a half at the gym, but my body felt like it had been through a twenty-year war. The first day would be the hardest, Ben had warned me, and he was right. Now, stirring a pot of something delicious-smelling on the stove, he smiled at me. “You look like shit.” “Thanks, man. Just what I needed to hear. God, that was so painful. How do you do that four times a week?” “It gets easier. You just have to get used to it.”
“I hope that part comes soon, before I drop my membership early. Fuck, what are you cooking there? It smells amazing. I didn’t even know you could cook.” “Just because I never do it doesn’t mean I can’t. And since BOTH of us hit the gym today I thought we might be needing some protein.” The fish in the pan was making incredible sizzling noises as it fried. It was glistening from all the oil and looked delicious. Ten minutes later, we were at the table and Ben was loading way too much onto my plate. “You know, if you want to make real gains, you have to eat like a king.” I tried to clean my plate completely, but no one took Ben’s advice as well as Ben himself. He devoured everything he’d just cooked, making his massive frame look even wider as he gulped it down. “God, Ben. Where does all that food go? You ate more than half of the fish and a whole bowl of oven-baked potatoes with cream and baked beans—plus the bottle of soda.” “I told you: you have to eat like a king if you wanna become one.” First, he was fighting it but then he let out a massive burp and a quiet “sorry” right after. His shirt had gotten even tighter around his gut, and I couldn’t help but notice that his six-pack was starting to recede under the masses of food in his belly. “This was so good! We should do this more often now.”
Ben leaned back in his chair and his tight shirt rolled up, exposing even more of his bulging, hairy belly. I quickly looked down at my own plate: “I can’t eat any more or I’ll explode. Do you want the rest?” It didn’t take him long to decide. “Yeah, give it to me.” He drew the plate up to his mouth and shoveled everything into it with a little help from his fork. It looked like he wasn’t even chewing. The fat of the fish was dripping down from the sides of his mouth onto his shirt. Another burp followed. “Now I’m finished, too.”
I was lying in bed. My body was sore everywhere, and it felt like a car had just run me over. My belly was so full that I could feel myself drifting off to sleep…until I heard Ben walking into the kitchen again. I stood up—I had to take my contacts out anyway—and so I found Ben sitting in the kitchen again with a box of chocolate chip ice cream in front of him. When he saw me he looked guilty and stopped licking the spoon, but there was still a voracious grin on his face. “Want some?” he asked me. “No. We just ate, remember?” “There’s always room for something sweet.” “Isn’t that a little…caloric?” “Hey, I’m bulking today, hahaha. Trying to gain some serious weight here.” “Well, you’re clearly on your way. I’m going to bed now.” “See ya tomorrow.”
Two weeks later I could already see the first results of my hard work in the bathroom mirror. I was starting to get kind of toned, and I had clearly added more than a pound to my frame. Maybe it was the lifting, or maybe because Ben was cooking like a true chef now. There was a little menu nearly every night, and he was getting better with every passing day. I felt okay eating more since my new workout regimen burned a lot of calories, but Ben was eating everything as though it were a contest. The day before he’d baked a full-fat chocolate pie, and after I’d said I was already full from supper he devoured the entire thing himself, in five bites. He’d entered a food coma after that, dreaming peacefully at the table. He was gaining weight, too, but not in the same way as me—his once-athletic body was more and more of a memory every day. He was already well beyond the freshman-15 look. Now, after two weeks, he looked a bit rounder everywhere, and his belly was always bulging in his once perfectly-tailored shirts. But he still looked good—honestly, maybe he was even a bit sexier now, just with a slightly higher body fat percentage. I watched him looking at himself in the mirror one morning and actually caught him giving his little belly an affectionate pat.
I was on my way home when I saw Ben through the window of the burger joint a block away from our apartment. I went in and found him surrounded by a pile of wrappers. It looked like he’d been there for a while now. “Ben? What are you doing here?” “Skipped the gym today, bro. I was too hungry and couldn’t concentrate on lifting, so I came here for a bite instead.” “A bite? More like a few hundred bites.” I started going through the piles of trash: “Three XL burgers, fries, and two—no, three—shakes. Shit, Ben. Nobody can eat that much in one sitting.” “I’m a sportsman—trust me, I can eat even more. My body burns so many calories per day. This is just a little cheat day for me.” I didn’t want to correct him, but to me it looked like this was his 30th cheat day in a row. His belly was actually pressing against the edge of the table in front of him. His belly button was showing, and even the outline of his pecs looked round and fluffy. His arms still looked massive, but they were nowhere near as toned as before. He surprised me by saying the words I’d been thinking: “You’re gaining like crazy, dude! Where’s that skinny kid from a month ago?” He had a big grin on his now-rounder face. I smiled. “Charlene at the gym says I have good genetics for gaining muscle mass.”
I was pretty proud of my fast gains. I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up and presented my developing biceps to him “Shit, bro. For just one month that’s already pretty impressive. Keep it up and soon you’ll look like me.” He gave me a double biceps pose. It was true that his arms looked even bigger now with the few extra pounds of fat. As he flexed, his right sleeve actually tore open a few inches, and Ben gazed at it with a broad smile. “I’m so fucking huge, boy.” In the same moment, his belly grumbled loudly. “Fuck,” he said, “I’m still hungry. Maybe you want something too?” “Are you serious?” “Yeah, bro! This body needs some fuel to grow beyond big!” He gave me another pose, and this time his shirt ripped under his arms. “Fuck, Ben, you’re getting truly massive now! People are already starting to stare at you. But maybe you should slow down a little with the bulking. Your midsection is getting seriously bloated.” “Have you seen those juiced-up bodybuilders online? A little gut is perfectly normal!”
He ordered another family-size portion for both of us, and even though I was full after a few minutes, he kept on eating, even asking for my leftovers as soon as he’d finished his plate. I practically had to carry him home. His gut looked dangerously swollen, and even his belly button was bulging out. At home, I dropped him into his bed, and as he turned over, moaning, I could actually hear all the food and soda in his stomach sloshing around. The same night I woke up at 3 am. Someone was looting our fridge again. When I opened it the next day, it was practically empty. Even the butter was gone.
A month after that, I wanted to order some food, but Ben was in the shower. After waiting and waiting with no sign of him finishing, I knocked, and he told me to come in. The moment I entered, he emerged from the shower, and I realized for the first time how fat he had become in the last four weeks. There were already two tiers of love handles on each side, and his massive arms weren’t resting freely on his sides anymore, but on the little fat pillows that covered them. His pecs were sagging and massive, with huge areolas, looking very kneadable. His belly had grown down to conceal his package and he could rest it in a sink—this is how fat he has become.
“Fuck, bro. You’re getting insanely fat. You know that, right?” “Most of it isn’t fat, really,” he said with a confident grin as he jiggled his love handles. “I’ve gained a bit of weight here and there, yeah, but a little more training and everything will be fine again. You’ll see, Adonis will be back in town in just a few days.” “Dude, you’re fatter than my cousin Andrew, and he’s been seriously obese since he was a teenager. Come on, step on the scale.” He hesitated, but obeyed. When the scale showed us the truth, we didn’t speak at first: Ben was only a few good meals away from 260 pounds. “Shit, I didn’t realize how big I’ve gotten these last few weeks. Even though I haven’t been hitting the gym as often as before.” He actually sounded very proud. “What do you mean, ‘even though’? You’re getting fat because you eat like a maniac and DON’T go to the gym.” But he wasn’t listening to me. He just studied his massive frame in the mirror with a satisfied grin.
One afternoon not long after that, he did come with me to the gym, and we were both shocked when the woman behind the counter didn’t recognize him. “That’s how much you’ve changed,” I insisted. “No, she’s just rude! I was one of her best clients for years and now I skip one or two training sessions and she pretends she doesn’t know me any longer.” “Bro, you haven’t been here in two months.” He said nothing after that. He didn’t seem ashamed, though. In the locker room he certainly wasn’t hiding what he’d become. He swung his swollen body back and forth right in front of me, and as we got changed he was eating a protein bar. “You know you’re supposed to eat stuff like that AFTER your workout, right?” “I’m sorry, which one of us has been training his ass off for years?” I wanted to say “Look in the mirror and ask me that again,” but that would have been too mean. An hour later I was sweating and panting and red all over. When I’d exhausted myself to my bones, I started to look for Ben. I found him at the juice bar, and he didn’t look sweaty at all. In fact, he was just sitting there, drinking one of the biggest shakes I’d ever seen and playing something on his phone. “You can’t be serious.”
“What? I was hungry after I warmed up.” “Is this how you want to stay?” “You mean massive?” “No, I mean fat.” He looked at me like I was the crazy one. As he slurped the last drops of his shake, I got an idea. He would certainly change his ways if he could see how gross his habits were. I went to the bar and ordered the biggest, fattiest and most protein-filled shake they had. The guy behind the counter said that they didn’t sell many of them because they were so rich. “No one’s ever ordered a second one after he trying one of these babies,” he told me with a knowing smile. I went back to Ben and told him to drink the shake to prove to me that he was fine with who he had become. That he really was this hungry. He just smiled and started chugging thirstily, as if it were his first meal in two months instead of two minutes. I could practically see his gut bulging outward as he drank more and more of the thick shake. “You see this, you fat piggy? You see how huge and round you’re getting? THIS is what you want?” He wasn’t even listening to me. I started to caress his trembling belly as he drank on and on and on. Was he even breathing? His belly felt so soft and squishy between my strong hands. His belly button had become a hole that could contain two of my fingers. I jiggled his love handles and he just drank faster. Shit, he loved that. And—even stranger—part of me liked it, too. “Another one, please,” he said after he had finished. I slammed the money down on the counter.
A few days later, I entered the bathroom to find Ben standing in front of the sink shaving his beard. His enormous gut was resting in the sink like the jiggling mass of blubber it had become. Because the two of us didn’t really have boundaries anymore, I dropped my clothes and stepped into the shower. Seconds later he peeked over at me and couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Why didn’t I know about this, bro?” he asked me, half-baffled and half-amused. “What?” I asked him, looking up from washing my cock. “Bro! You’re hung like a fucking horse. I thought I was the stallion of the two of us.” “Yeah, not anymore, I guess. The gym is paying off in a huge way for me. It’s pretty great.” “But, dude, your member is huge! Way bigger than I remember.” “Oh shut up,” I laughed loudly, my voicing echoing loudly off the tiles. “It’s not even 10 inches. No big deal, really.” I looked at his once-huge bulge, which now seemed to be shrinking smaller day by day. At first I’d thought it was just being swallowed up by the advancing layers of fat, but I soon realized that that wasn’t the case. Meanwhile, Ben was checking out my muscular gains with a certain hunger in his eyes. “If we keep growing like this, we’ll be the most massive roommates the world has ever seen.” I was actually looking forward to it. The way Ben was looking at me now made me feel like I actually was becoming the towering wall of muscles I dreamed of being.
Six months later, I put a new scale on the floor in front of Ben. It took him some time to step onto it: 460 pounds. I helped him step down and as he panted heavily, recovering from the trip across the living room floor, I jumped onto the scale myself: 330 pounds. Ben saw the numbers and started laughing. “Guess you’ll never be as big as me, you little wimp.” I walked over to him until my monstrous bulge was pressing against his belly. It was hard to say what was growing faster lately: his stomach or my package. “We’ll see, big guy.” Our lives hadn’t stopped changing since we’d started adding weight, and there was still no end in sight. Ben was just an enormous mass of happy jiggling fat stomping through our apartment. His parents discovered his little change when he’d visited them a few weeks before, and they were understandably shocked. He was immediately put on a strict diet and given a thousand other rules to follow, but as soon as he came back to me it all went out the window and he put on even more weight. No denying it: I enabled him. He hadn’t had water in three months because all he drank were fat shakes. We now ordered in several times a week because it just wasn’t possible to cook enough every night to meet his demands. The delivery guy had become a good friend of ours, and I sometimes caught him looking at Ben with awe in his eyes. The last time he came, he gave us the five pizzas we ordered, plus one additional one. “It’s on the house,” was all he said, waving goodbye with a wink. But Ben only had eyes for the meal, and before I’d even I shut the door behind the delivery guy, he was already stuffing his triple-chinned face with double-cheese pizza. As always, his gut swelled to enormous proportions as he ate enough for four people, his bulging fat slowly pushing the table in front of him away. Soon, I thought, he’d able to use his own chest and belly as a shelf, and we could get rid of the table and have more room in our shrinking kitchen.
I didn’t eat much of the junk food, carefully preparing high-protein, low-fat meals for myself instead. But watching him eat like a hog always made me horny, and I was beginning to lose control over my sex drive. We’d started having sex two months before, and it had pretty much started by accident. Ben had been having trouble standing up from his bed after one of its legs broke. He shouted my name, and I arrived at his room to find him lying there with a broad, helpless smile on his thick face. To even enter his room I actually had to bend down a little. All I was wearing were some old briefs, and my alpha cock was so prominently on display that the quivering mass of fat on the bed couldn’t look away. I think his appetite for food and sex was so great now that he could barely tell the difference between them anymore.
He had become so heavy that even for me it was getting hard to help him up. I grabbed his love handles, and a second later the straps of my briefs broke. My gigantic cock, which Ben had been obsessed with since the day it began to grow, now slapped him in the face with a loud smack. In no time at all, it was down his throat. He was actually swallowing my whole length without any difficulty at all, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time. After I came, I went to pull my 15 inches of muscle cock out of his greedy food hole, but he didn’t want to stop. “More, please—give me more of that huge meat. I need more of your cum in me! Please!” I pushed him over and lifted his blimpy legs until my aching cock could enter his hole. I boned him for half an hour, every thrust heavier than the one before. His entire body was jiggling and the bed was breaking down underneath us. He was kneading his massive man tits the whole time, and I anchored myself on his thick thighs and belly. My juicy bull balls were slapping against his wet ass the entire time, and I only paused for two seconds before coming like a fountain. He wanted to roll away, totally out of breath and desperate for food, but I held him in place and said: “I’m not finished yet. I want a second round!” So he obeyed.
Sometimes it was a wonder to me that he could still walk. He had trouble, but it never seemed to become a real problem. Sometimes he even joined me, clad in bedsheets, when I visited the supermarket down the road. His steps were thunderous and everyone’s eyes were on us the whole time. At least I could still wear normal clothes, even though they were always too tight for my growing monster frame. I had to clean up after him, but I found that didn’t bother me at all. He was eating all the time now, and it looked like he was even eating in his sleep, all night long. When we bought a new, gigantic mattress for him, he asked me if I wanted to sleep with him. It turned out having that mountain-like mass of flesh to warm me every night was all I wanted, and if I wanted to fuck the shit out of him while we were at it, he couldn’t say no, because he wanted it too. A year before I’d been pretty jealous of his huge fuck rod, but now it was safely sheathed in lard and he needed my hand to find and please it. I only gave him a hand when I felt like it. I was in charge. My cock, like the rest of me, had grown to majestic proportions. Most doors weren’t wide enough for me anymore, and I caught people staring and filming me and my bulge in public all the time. Ben, meanwhile, was giving me blow jobs like no one else ever had. Maybe it was all the eating that was training his throat. He was sucking me to climax within minutes every damn time, and of course he was eager to swallow too.
One night, in his sleep, he rolled on top of me, burying half my body under his monstrous mass. I woke up to him dry-humping my muscules. He was so heavy that any normal person would have been suffocated by the amount of weight, but I was getting hard under the weight of his thrusts, and soon my cock was nestled up thick and hard against my pecs, so insanely big it was like another little man between us. When Ben finished his business, I came at the same time, my cock pushed past the point of no return by the layers of skin grinding heavily against my veiny cock. The next day I told him about it, but he couldn’t remember.
A few days after that, I had to leave for two weeks for a national bodybuilding tournament. I was finally confident enough in my body to present it to the world. In preparation, I bought tons of food for Ben and left him the numbers of the pizza joints in the area. He walked me to the door and I squeezed his marshmallow- like body goodbye. I could even lift him, which made him panic slightly since he wasn’t used to leaving the ground much anymore. “Don’t overeat while I’m gone.” He just smiled and shoved me through the door.
Fourteen days later, when I turned the key in the apartment door, my other hand held the golden trophy I had won along with my bag. I was welcomed by a strange sight: hundreds of pizza boxes stacked in towers reaching from floor to ceiling. I tried to navigate around them, but I had become too wide and massive not to crush every tower by just moving through the apartment. Everywhere I looked were empty packages of food and shake supplement boxes. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. I couldn’t even recognize the home I’d just left. Worried, I called for him: “Ben? You home?”
I heard him before I saw him. His waddling steps, much louder than before, and his heaving breath as he eased himself toward our bedroom door. His belly appeared first in the door frame, dipping so low it was almost touching the ground. Then his hands came into view, and I realized he was struggling to press himself through the door. It was hopeless: the frame was way too small for what he had become. The wood cracked, and a moment later it splintered under the pressure and he could finally leave the room. He had become so wide I couldn’t find words to describe him. He had been 540 pounds, but he looked much more like 1,000 pounds now. His thighs jiggled even when he wasn’t taking a step, his belly round and bulging, his love handles stacked on top on each other, his arms perched on top of them at a 90-degree angle. His neck was completely gone. He looked even taller than me now, too, but that was just an optical illusion created by the layers of fat. I felt my cock swelling, and the seams of my jeans straining under the pressure. He wasn’t the only one who’d become bigger these last two weeks. I was constantly pumping myself with new proteins, new fitness bars, anabolic steroids, and chemical cocktails. My weight was now around 590 pounds, and my cock was probably 22 pounds of it. Ben, meanwhile, was sweating just standing there in the broken door frame. How could he still walk? He brought me to the bed and we had the most freakish sex you could ever imagine. I think we’d run out of food in the house, so he sucked me for hours, hoping for some cream and calories. We had both become so enormously huge that while I was fucking the shit out of him we were barely recognizable as anything except two mountains of skin, muscle and fat, shaking and humping each other for hours and hours until the whole floor was covered in our cum and sweat.
I woke up that night to Ben sucking on my cock again like a true freak. Even though my glans had grown to epic proportions, it still perfectly in his mouth with room to spare. From time to time, his massive wet tongue even emerged to caress my balls as he blew my cock. I smiled because he looked like the biggest baby doing it. His sucking was so strong that I needed a break from time to time—every time I pulled my monster cock out of his throat it looked even bigger from Ben’s incredible suction. When my dick was out of his mouth and he could finally mumble something in his sleep, it was always the same thing: “So…fucking…hungry!” I got up and grabbed something from our nearly-empty cabinets and started feeding him in his sleep.
Soon it seemed like his weight was ascending to new highs, while I was finally reaching my muscle mass limit. I stopped growing at 640 pounds and 6’9’’ in height, while Ben was still 5’9’’, but skyrocketing to 1,400 pounds of fat. His eating habits were becoming even stranger with time—I noticed he was even eating some of the packages of the food. It took me several weeks to find a new gym because the one I’d used before didn’t have big enough weights, and they had an issue with my expanding junk anyway. They practically made me leave. When I came home these days I usually found Ben heavier than when I’d left him. I had to knead and rub his always-stuffed belly, which by now had grown to cosmic proportions. When Ben was seriously stuffed, his gut was bulged outward several feet, still not touching the ground. I used all of my muscle power and the whole length of my arms to caress this monstrosity: every layers of fat, every square foot of hairy, continuously stretching skin. At night I often heard him sleep eating and one time he even got stuck in the door to our room because he was on his way to the fridge after midnight. I had trouble bringing him back to bed: there was a surprising amount of muscle power still hidden under all those thick layers of fat.
One night, I woke up to a grumbling thunder in his belly, a noise I’d never heard before rising like a storm. He was muttering in his sleep about how hungry he was, something about never having felt so empty before. It was like watching someone having a nightmare. I caressed his round face with my big hands and whispered to him gently. He became a bit calmer, even starting to kiss me. Soon, he was rolling on top of me, our lips sealed, and my cock already half-hard between us. Ben had always Ben a fantastic kisser, but the French kiss I received now was beyond belief. I’d never realized before how huge his mouth could become—and no sooner had I had the thought, I felt him moaning passionately and he started shoving me into his maw before I could do anything about it. At first, I thought he was joking, but when I realized my head was entirely inside his mouth, I started to panic. I tried to wake him up, but he couldn’t hear and just kept pushing my body further into his wide-open maw. Seconds later, I could feel his hands on my muscular ass, pushing me into him, and though I tried my best to escape, the battle was already lost. Everything went dark, and soon I had disappeared, totally lost inside his cave-like belly. I kicked and punched the inside of his gut but soon my movements became slower until they stopped. He had never felt so big, so swollen and bulging before, and he just kept rubbing his gigantic gut until his sleep became peaceful again.
The next day when Ben got up, he wondered where I was. He didn’t even notice the additional weight of over 600 pounds—just the rising hunger that would soon make him crazy. He tried pushing himself out of the door of his room and found once again that he was too big for it—the wall nearly collapsed when he finally made it out. The delivery guy came around noon, bringing a new tower of pizzas as he had every day since the two weeks I’d been gone. Ben gulped down everything he could find, but his increasing hunger made it difficult for him to feel anything like fullness. In the end, when the pizza guy stepped onto his mountains of fat to caress the monstrosity as he’d gotten used to doing, he, too, was gone too within seconds, and Ben was 170 pounds heavier than before. This continued for weeks, and soon became the case of the lost pizza boys.
About a month after that, everyone in the neighborhood stopped what they were doing and stared in shock at the house that was spontaneously collapsing before their eyes. Some people screamed, while others ducked and ran away. It sounded something had exploded, but nobody could see fire or smoke. The firemen found an incomprehensibly enormous man buried in the rubble, big like nothing any of them had ever seen before. Doctors would later estimate his weight at 3,100 pounds. His first words to the firemen were, “Please! I’m so hungry!”