![]() ![]() Honestly, I was pretty contented, if busy and kind of stressed my biggest concerns were career advancement and paying off student loans. He’d occasionally drag me to the gym, and while I never really got in shape or lost much weight, I did manage to get myself to look a little more trim in a suit. ![]() Both of us had busy work schedules, and had started making friends in the city, so we didn’t spend all of our time together, but we did make it a point to hang out at least a couple of times a week either stay in and play video games over a couple beers, or go out to a bar with mutual friends. Our place was nice nothing too fancy, but a decent enough size for two guys, with enough privacy for when one of us (him, a lot more frequently) would bring a girl over. He was working for big Pharma, and I had gotten a job cataloguing in a museum. We had both found jobs in Boston after graduating, so the idea of getting an apartment together made sense neither of us was doing anything other than casual dating, trying to focus on careers, so splitting an apartment with another guy seemed like a good living situation. We also just learned in our freshman year that we got along well as roommates, which is much rarer than good friendships. He invited me to parties at Alpha Phi Alpha I got him into obscure comic books. Chase, Black, a chemistry major, and a bodybuilder, and myself, John, short, a book nerd, Jewish, and hovering between overweight and fat, didn’t seem to have a lot in common at first glance, but we bonded over a shared love for RPGs and action movies. We had been an unlikely pair at college we shared a dorm in our freshman year, and despite a host of differences, had been friends ever since. As he placed the nozzle of the whipped cream container in between my thick, bimbo lips, I let my mind wander.Ĭhase and I had moved into an apartment following undergrad, and the situation had been working for us pretty well for a few years. Our lives hadn’t always been like this these roles (and the rolls on my body) were relatively recent developments. “So, how do you want to spend the day?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. His 6’ 6’’ Adonis frame towered over my supine form. He held a container of high-fat whipped cream in his hand, snapping off the top as he approached the bed. Sweat was still glistening on his dark skin I was sure that, like most weekends, he had spent the morning in the home gym, while I had wallowed in delicious sleep, my pale body only moving before 11:30 AM from the occasional jiggle produced by my constantly churning stomach. A shudder went through my body as I stared at his turgid, thick cock, reveling in the knowledge that my bovine body was the cause of its iron-hard rigidity. I mean, I’m talking like cartoonishly big. I luxuriated in silk sheets, a massive fart escaping from my body.Ĭhase entered the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, doing nothing to conceal powerful, muscular thighs and an absurdly huge erection. I settled my hands on my stomach like every morning, the shock of so much rich cream immediately triggered my tendency to flatulence. My belly temporarily satiated, I let myself slowly drift to wakefulness as I carefully returned the blender to the night stand table. I had to stop and pause three times, but I managed to consume the milkshake in about seven minutes six thousand, six hundred and twelve calories were in my bloated, abused stomach before I even opened my eyes. Half a carton of high-fat vanilla ice cream, four cups of heavy whipping cream, a cup of pure lard, ten tablespoons of unadulterated high fructose corn syrup, two scoops of maximum weight-gain bodybuilder powder, the kind with added fat, and ten tablespoons of plain white sugar. I hadn’t eaten anything in close to four hours- my stomach churned in desperation as I eagerly downed my breakfast milkshake. I guided the rim to my mouth, and slowly started swallowing the contents the thick, rich creaminess of the shake pouring down my eager throat. My eyes still closed, I carefully got my fingers around the handle of a blender. Reaching purely through muscle memory, I fumbled my hand over to the night stand table, my fingers grazing along the wood slowly until they hit glass. I poked my hand out of the blanket, letting the maximum-setting air conditioning wash over my pale skin. Your browser does not support the audio element.
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