A Healthy Diet Means a Healthy Gut

Two friends get a firsthand lesson in biology and the role that "good" bacteria play in supporting a healthy gut.

This was supposed to be a vignette, but the writing bug bit me bad, and I wanted to round it out (pun intended) and make it a bit fleshier :)  Since the story is longer than a vignette, it is an attachment instead.

Also, since this was supposed to be a vignette, here is an image that pairs with the story:

https://bigjockchsr.tumblr.com/post/185489585237

(Viewing the above link is NOT REQUIRED to enjoy written content. It is a suggestion and solely the reader's choice).

My next story focus will be the results of the March poll. Thank you to everyone who participated! (Coffee N' Donuts tier only)

A Healthy Diet Means a Healthy Gut by Pragmaton

It had been a while since Frank had seen his friend Will. He had just come back from a months-long business trip in Latin America, bringing back a number of trinkets and souvenirs in the process.

Will worked for a fitness company that was looking for a cheap, all natural, yet high quality alternative to protein bars, and just closed a supply chain deal with a medium size company in the country of Chile.

Frank didn't pay attention to all of the details Will told him as they caught up over drinks, but was slightly interested to know that the company providing the plant-based protein bars had a culturally rich history that spanned back several hundred years. Apparently the company itself was only established seventy years ago after a few indigenous tribes shared the secrets of their ancient cultivation techniques with the original founder.

Something about enhanced gut bacteria? Will quickly rattled off some facts about the product, not all of which Frank fully understood. Apparently the cultivation techniques in that region resulted in superior probiotics in the protein bars, making them chockfull of evolved “good” bacteria, such as Lactobacillus, Bifidobacteria, etc. It was similar to how parts of New Zealand had superior flowers resulting in the production of Manuka honey, which had medicinal benefits several times more effective than regular honey.

Frank was starting to zone out a bit, as Will excitedly went over how he would marry the science jargon and the cultural origins of the protein bar when he wrote the product description, as well as the color branding.

Frank interrupted. “So wait…who’s your audience? All I heard was some mumbo jumbo about probiotics. Are you targeting an older group of people? Because my old man uses a probiotic supplement for digestion, so when I hear that word, I think about people my parents’ age…”

“Are you kidding me man?” Will retorted, shaking his head. He suddenly reached over and jabbed Frank in his small, slightly muscled belly, eliciting a small oof from him. “Everybody has ‘good’ bacteria in their bodies already, man! It helps break down nutrients so they can be absorbed quickly and effectively. Can you imagine the consumer reaction to a product that promises protein absorption several dozen times faster than the competitor? It's a gold mine waiting to happen!”

“Besides,” he continued, taking a swig of his beer. “We’re getting up there ourselves, you know. Ain’t no harm in getting ourselves ready for our thirties, since it’s right around the corner. We gotta start getting used to the whole vitamin routine. Speaking of which…”

Will reached into his messenger bag and pulled out two small, wrapped packages, each the size of a snickers bar.

“I snagged these during the facility tour. They were sitting in some random employee lounge fridge, so I figured, the company’s got a million of em’, they’re not going to be missing a couple from an employee breakroom.”

He handed Frank one of the wrapped bars. It was sparsely decorated, with the product description written entirely in Spanish.

Will raised his bar in a mock toast. “To the beginning of a successful business venture!” He began to unwrap his.

“For you maybe,” Frank grumbled. Will was a Sr. Sales Manager at his company, but Frank himself worked as an assistant manager at a department store, though he didn’t mind the pay and benefits. Plus plenty of time to hit the gym after work.

He unwrapped the bar before abruptly holding it away from his face. The grainy bar had a strong odor that reminded him of a vegetable smoothie.

“Dude! It reeks!” Frank gagged before laughing.

“It’s organic man, it’s supposed to,” Will retorted, wrinkling his nose before taking a huge bite. “C’mon, don't leave me hanging!" he exclaimed, mouth full of protein bar. He took a quick swig of his beer afterward to bury the taste.

"Don't know how you are supposed to sell the things," Frank muttered, before taking a bite. The bar was oddly soft, and tasted sweeter than he would have expected, though it was laced with bitter tones of what tasted like various vegetables? He swallowed quickly, before also taking a swig of beer.

While Will was quickly downing the rest of his bar, Frank took a closer look at the wrapper. In small print he saw a listing of numbers and letters. He couldn't read the word, as it was a Spanish translation for a month, but his eyes widened when he saw the year. He burst out laughing, before chugging the rest of his beer.

"What's so funny?" Will grimaced as he swallowed the last bite of his bar.

"Did you even bother to check the expiration on these?" Frank said, shaking his head.

Will frowned, before picking up his discarded wrapper and reading it more intently. A horrifying comprehension slowly dawned on his face.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, before immediately chugging his beer , in hopes of drowning out the taste of the organic protein bar that had been expired for two years.

**********************"********

The next few days were uneventful as Frank got back into his routine of work and gym. Will was busy with his job, having to catch up on developments that occurred while he was traveling.

Everything seemed to be normal after their embarrassing "toast" at the bar. Frank would be lying if he said he didn't experience any abdominal discomfort after eating the expired protein bar. He went to bed that night with a gurgling belly, making its indignation apparent to him as he patted it in vain hopes to calm it down.

The next morning, his stomach felt much better, fantastic even. He stretched, back popping to his satisfaction. He was energized and optimistic, ready to tackle the day's challenges.

He conducted inventory at work that day, normally a dreary task for him, but he wasn't deterred in the slightest. He joked with his subordinates and actually had fun doing the work.

Later that day, he was surpassing some personal records at the gym, his biceps and back were getting a good pump, abdominals slightly apparent and pushing against his tanktop.

Afterward, his stomach growled, needing to be fed. He decided to treat himself to two full-size meals of takeout, enjoying two sets of burgers and fries. He topped it off with a large chocolate shake, figuring he deserved it after a good showing at the gym.

He lay on his back, smiling lazily at his contented stomach, bloated outward from the amount of food. So it was a cheat day, so what? He'd work it off at the gym during the week.

The next morning he woke up feeling bloated. His stomach seemed a little more swollen from digestive gases, bubbling outward from his padded ribcage. He scratched the slight ballgut lazily as he rolled out of bed. As he sat up, the rumbling gases came out in a long, abrupt belch.

" *urp* much better" he said to himself.

He began dressing up for work, putting on his dark blue polo and nametag, before reaching for his tan slacks. He brought it up to his waist and made to fasten it.

The zipper was a little tougher to pull up than he remembered, and the slacks button seemed to resist being pulled across. Frank frowned when he looked at himself in the mirror. Though he had made room with that belch earlier, it seemed his stomach was still a bit bloated, rounding out against his polo, indent of his belly button clearly visible against the fabric. His swollen stomach was also putting undue pressure against his slacks, puckering the button after fastening it.

He shrugged. The post-workout gains struggle was real, apparently. It was to be expected the way he chowed down last night.

Work was nothing special that day. He helped his workers with restocking some shelves, reaching up to place items higher on a particular shelf. He would subconsciously readjust his shirt every time he did so, making sure to hide an exposed bit of hairy midriff that would reveal itself every time he reached upward.

Around lunchtime, his stomach began to rumble right on cue, which was uncharacteristic for his body. He usually only felt that hungry after a workout. Rubbing his belly uneasily, he walked across the street to the local taco fast food joint. Against his better judgement, he ordered a deluxe size taco and burrito cravings pack, mentally arguing that he would save the uneaten portions for later.

Methodically, he chewed, gulped and swallowed his way through a couple of tacos and burritos in a few minutes. Something about eating when hungry really unlocked his inner husky guy, and the food tastes several times better especially when he had a hole to fill.

And he continued to fill that hole… and then fill it some more. He burped loudly, making a pathetic face of apology to some nearby customers who looked at him strangely. He stared down slightly embarrassed and somewhat apalled that he was able to finish a family size meal in one sitting, with 10 minutes of his lunch break to go.

Pushing himself up and out of the booth, he stood up, experiencing a strange sense of vertigo. He felt off balance and uncomfortable, as if his breathing was somehow constricted. Looking down, he was shocked to find that his stomach

looked even more bloated than that morning, pushing forcefully against his shirt like a pumped basketball. It quaked in and out with every shallow breath.

"Whoa." He palmed it unsteadily, moaning slightly at the sensitivity of the grown gullet he had pushed beyond what it should have reasonably contained. He felt a distinctive *pop* of his slacks button, thankful that it was hidden behind the creaking leather of the belt painfully constricting his midsection.

He quickly excited the place before he garnered any further stares. He snuck back into work using the warehouse entrance, making sure to peruse some boxes containing upsized versions of his work uniform…

*****************

The next few days were a blur for Frank. The gains in the gym, though impressive, were only outshadowed by his gains elsewhere.

Though he did his best to eat less, his hunger pangs became more and more frequent. And even if he committed to stuffing himself with salads and fruits, his waistband only stretched tighter in defiance against his ballooning ball belly. His muscular pecs swelled as if they were packed tightly with pudding, firm but with substantial jiggle potential. His nipples pressed against his work shirt like hypersensitive bottle tops, forcing him to wear an XXL work jacket to hide them, even if he couldn't zip it up against his Stay Puft marshmallow midsection. His belly, severely packed with both fat and muscle mass, levitated further and further in front of him every day, the fleshy, hairy firm underside brushing the cool metal of his belt buckle, letting him know it was time to sneak into a larger shirt. Every night before going to sleep he stared worriedly at his slowly rising mound, not sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or that his cartoonishly widening gut was creaking ever so slightly bigger as he watched.

Over the next two weeks, the softhearted jokes from his employees about his unexpected weight gain slowly devolved into inquiries about his health and diet, before further degrading into worried whispers as he thumped his way between the rapidly narrowing store aisles. His arms, now bullish in size, threatened to pop the stitching of his sleeves on a daily basis, regardless of shirt size. His rounded shoulders and bloated traps inconveniently pushed the shirt higher around his thick neck and ears, inadvertently pulling much needed real estate from the expanse of his swelling, overpowering gut. Every huffing breath of his waddling gait caused his overdeveloped latissimus muscles to flare wider, pushing his arms outward and forcing his belly even further out, causing two to three stitches to pop in various places as he helplessly felt his body overemphasize its existence.

One day, after having completely outgrown the largest size uniform shirt available and revealing several hairy inches of 100% grass-fed beefgut, hanging off of his midsection like a cement-filled weather balloon, the primary store manager called Frank into his office. He very politely suggested Frank take a few days off to see a doctor in order to "get a handle" on his situation. Annoyed, Frank let his love handles do the talking as they nearly popped the office door off its hinges due to their overbearing width. He shuffled his way to his truck, slacks nearly painted onto his muscled quads, hams and buttocks the size of ripened watermelons.

The truck groaned as Frank's weight settled in. Even with the seat pulled back all the way, his massive stomach still pressed uncomfortably against the steering wheel.

A vibration from his polo shirt pocket snapped him out of his mental grumblings. He reached two thickened fingers into the tight pocket and pulled out his smartphone.

His eyebrow rose when he saw it was from Will. He hadn't talked to him in what? Two weeks? It was an unexpected call, but not an unwelcome one after the unsavory meeting with his boss.

He answered it. "Yo, Will, my man, what's up?"

“Hey, Frank,” came Will’s voice in a much lower register. It sounded muffled somewhat. “Just checking up on ya…mind if I swing by later? There’s an issue at work I’d like to run by you for advice.”

“Yeah man, I’m not doing anything. Got the rest of the day off, as well as the next few days. Feel free to stop by earlier, I’m heading home now.”

“Great! See you there, buddy.”

Once he was home, it was an hour later that Frank heard the telltale doorbell ring. He heaved his bulk out of his creaking couch, seriously rotund power belly pushing out of his XXXL shirt as he did so, his plump, wide navel on hedonistic display despite the rest of his muscular body.

Wait until Will gets a load of me, he grimaced mentally, unsure how his friend might react to his ballooning proportions.

He needn’t have worried. It turns out his growing problem was much bigger than he could have realized.

As he shuffled his bulk to open his front door for his great reveal to Will, Frank’s eyes were met with a vast wall of plaid patterning as he opened the door wider,

the pattern never seeming to end, until at last, the door had been opened all the way.

The illusion was simple. Frank was 5’10’’ and absolutely swaddled with muscle and fat, making him look domineering in any room, even seeming to loom over people taller than himself. But what if those same proportions were applied to someone taller, say, a friend who was around 6’2’’ in stature?

The resulting impact was staggering. Frank took a heavy step back as Will’s corpulent form and engorged face loomed over him. A giant plaid shirt, slightly loose, but still colossal in size, cradled a drooping, teardrop belly that surpassed the width of the doorway.

Will looked down at Frank, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face, brown goatee nearly subsumed by a strangled double chin about to burst out of a tightly buttoned collar.

"Mind if I come in?" He said in that uncharacteristically deep voice Frank heard on the phone.

Frank numbly nodded, at a loss for any coherent words.

Will turned sideways to better shimmy through the doorway, the vast expanse of his lardy protuberance rubbing unceremoniously against the frame. Frank got a good view of an ass that had been inflated to the size of beachballs, wobbling uncontrollably as they strained the seat of his Big n' Hefty sized slacks, center seam riding up the middle of his globed cheeks as the titanic ass smashed against the other side of the doorframe.

As he finally squeezed through, his prodigious paunch sloshed audibly, slapping back down into his thighs just above his knees. The outline of two large nipples could be seen on heaving, pillowy breasts, scarcely contained by the plaid shirt as they popped free of the doorframe. He huffed, a bit winded from the effort, as he laboriously stomped past Frank, a blimpish love handle brushing forcefully against Frank’s not-so-little belly, almost knocking him over in the process. Will waddled toward the couch, where he turned and settled his tonnage upon it. It creaked and groaned as soon as his massive ass cheeks touched it, increasing in torturous frequency as the rest of his weight followed. Miraculously, it was able to contain him, but just barely.

If Frank’s body needed a cushion and a half of real estate on the couch, then Will had outdone him by taking up at least two cushions, possibly encroaching onto a third. Either way, there wasn’t enough room for both of them to relax on the couch and crack open a beer, although Frank was sure that wasn’t the primary reason Will was here.

“So, are you going to say anything?” Will asked with a weary smile.

“Jesus,” Frank muttered. “Will, you’re a fuckin’ whale!”

“Ohhh!” Will chuckled, body jiggling wildly as he did so. “I suppose I should have given a heads up to my friend, the swimsuit model before coming over.”

Frank put a hand atop of his gurgling, exposed belly. “This? This is just baby fat! At least compared to you. What the hell happened?”

“It was those damn bars,” Will said, mimicking Frank by placing his hand on his much more expansive asset.

“The protein bars…?” Frank asked, easing himself into a recliner chair adjacent to the couch, gravid sphere rubbing uncomfortably against both armrests.

“Yeah. Turns out those bars we ate were part of an older formula, which, surprise surprise, was put out of commission approximately two years ago. Just after their expiration date, to be exact.”

Will drummed his soft belly idly as he spoke, causing small ripples racing from the point of impact that seemed almost mesmerizing as Frank watched. He continued.

“A few days after that night, I was already sporting a ballgut seconds away from bursting in any meeting I attended. I couldn’t replace my clothes fast enough! I had to ask my colleagues to stop rubbing or slapping my paunch whenever they passed my cubicle, in fear that one of my buttons would take an eye out or something. For days, my stomach just kept ballooning fucking fatter and larger, to the point where I went to see the doctor to see if I had some allergic reaction. Do you know what he told me? The guy gave me a fucking diet regimen! As if I wasn’t already cutting down to one-tenth of what I was eating before!”

Frank listened to this with rapt attention, noting how similar their experiences were. “So wait,” he interrupted. “When do the bars come into play? Like, how did you find out they were to blame?”

Will barked out a deep, bassy laugh, shaking body causing undue strain on the already suffering couch. “So get this! One of the reps from the South American company we are partnering with came to visit us at our corporate office. I had met him when I was visiting their facility, so you can imagine the shock on his face when he saw I was suddenly over a hundred fucking pounds heavier than when

he saw me a few weeks earlier. The guy was hysterical! He started quizzing me on whether I had any of their protein bars while visiting, whether it was from the complimentary gift basket they sent, if I had a bar before or after coming back, yada yada. I just told him that I had a bar after coming back and he left to make some phone calls.”

Will shook his head, jowls wobbling excitedly. “Thirty minutes later, there’s a video call set up, and the corporate heads of my company and the South American company call me into the executive boardroom. I’m sweating bullets, and it doesn’t help that the shirt and pants I was wearing that day were on their way out, my fucking gut was beginning to split in two, and one of these lobes,” he motioned as far down as he could toward one side of his gargantuan, heart-shaped belly, “kept bulging outta my shirt! I looked like a damn slob, flesh gaps between buttons the size of golf balls and getting wider just by me thinking about them!”

“But! Here’s the kicker,” Will said, a devious, but familiar smile playing on his now much plumper lips. “They explained that the protein bars used to have a different formula that was rotated out of production due to some…adverse effects. The healthy stomach bacteria that I was telling you about? Turns out that when left alone in the packaging for too long, in this case, past the expiration date? Let’s just say that the moist, self-contained packaging, plus the food source of the plant protein itself, creates the optimal ecosystem for the bacteria to replicate and thrive.”

“Wait, hold up,” Frank said, frowning. “Wouldn’t those plastic wrappings be filled with gasses or some shit? Why weren’t they, I dunno, mini balloons?”

“Because of how the bacteria works,” Will responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Remember how I told you how quickly the bacteria absorbs nutrients? Like a dozen times faster than the leading competitor? Well,

imagine it a hundred times faster, or even thousands! It makes sure nothing goes to waste, even the gasses within the packaging. Just more fuel for replicating and condensing within that little ecosystem.”

“So you’re saying what? That we just swallowed a bite of millions of pure bacteria?” Frank said incedulously, not sure if two weeks was too late for a gagging reflex.

“Try billions,” Will said grimly. “And speak for yourself. You only had a bite, my stubborn ass ate the whole damn thing…which is why I probably got a head start on you in terms of growth, not that it matters all that much. You only look two or three days behind me to be honest.”

“So that’s it? Dieting doesn’t help at all?” Frank said, allowing Will’s words to sink in.

“Well, not totally…” Will answered, pensively. “Tell me, how have your shits been?"

Frank recoiled at the question. "The fuck? What?"

"Now you see, a big guy like me, you'd think I take massive dumps," Will continued, unabashed. "The company reps made it clear that the bacteria is VERY efficient at nutrient absorption, even able to use the parts that the body would normally get rid of. I was wondering why my shits were getting smaller and smaller over the past several days. Now they're about the size of one of those tiny protein bars, ironically. Guess where the rest of it ends up?" He slapped his massive belly rolls, causing them to slosh and jiggle.

"What…that's…no fucking way is that possible…" Frank's hands subconsciously cradled his beachball belly anxiously, not believing what he was hearing. Checking the toilet wasn't something he got in the habit of doing, especially after doing his business, but now that he thought about it, he was spending a lot less time on it, even after one of his guilty meal splurges.

"Shit…" Frank whispered.

"Yeah, no kidding," Will said, more seriously this time. "The thing is, they estimated that about 40 percent of whatever I ate was being converted into mass directly onto my body. The reason we haven't fucking exploded yet is because the bacteria's nutrient absorbtion qualities are obtained and repurposed by the body, resulting in large mass deposits without the stretchmarks, as long as it can keep up. After running a few tests though, the reps found out my absorption rate was closer to 60-80 percent, much higher than their previous accounts, which threw them into another fuss. I didn't tell them that the bar I ate was two years expired, which probably made the bacteria extra potent."

"I think I am starting to get it," Frank said slowly. "60 to 80 percent of a damn salad or even a fucking carrot…"

"Goes straight to there," finished Will, pointing at Frank's spherical mass ballooning out high above his knees. "Even if you are calorie counting, it doesn't matter. The bacteria only cares about mass. So even though a couple hundred carrots might have less calories than a double cheeseburger, the carrots will blow you up so gawdamn big you'll be pinned to that recliner by your whopper of a keg!"

Frank stared at his friend, speechless.

"Please…please tell me there's an upside to this," Frank moaned, propping an elbow on his swollen stomach and putting his forehead in his hand. If this was the rate of growth to expect, how much bigger would he be by next week. Hell, by next month? Next year?!

"There is an upside, actually," said Will, the cockiness coming back into his eyes. "My company and their company knew the risks before coming into this deal. My company couldn't resist the cost savings and their company wanted the business. They were briefed about the incidents a few years ago about a couple people gaining weight from some old protein bars, but they were fascinated with the potential for the protein bars and the sales they could bring. They were assured that the formula was changed, and had the data to prove it. Now they think that an old bar was put in the gift basket, and actually want to compensate me for it."

"Wait, for real?" Frank said, perking up. "How much?"

"The hearing's tomorrow," Will said smugly. "I'm bringing a really good lawyer too, to make sure I'm not cut out of anything. If it works out…tch, bro…we're talking millions here. For my silence on the matter, and to allow them to treat me as soon as possible. You know, hide the evidence."

"Fuck bro, that's awesome!" Frank exclaimed. "Millions? And treatment? They can treat this?" Frank cupped a muscled moob the shape of a giant overstuffed ravioli and squeezed.

"Yeah, some kind of specially created antibiotic that targets the bacteria specifically," Will said. "The weight though, will most likely have to be lost naturally. But hey, if you were told you could be made a millionaire by becoming a fat fuck just once, and never have to work a day for the rest of your life, what would you do?"

"Shit, sign me up," Frank laughed. "Speaking of which, you got room in that hearing tomorrow for one more?"

"My man! Why do you think I'm here?" Will said, elated. "They don't even know about you yet! Imagine the sight of both of us lard-bellied porkers rolling up in there, needing several chairs each to sit our asses? They'll be speechless! I can see the dollar signs piling up already!"

"Ha! Yeah, I'd like to see the looks on their faces!" Frank continued to laugh, even harder, wiping a tear from his eye. "Imagine these two massive guys, clothes unable to fit them, stomping in like they owned the place. We should ask them if there's gonna be donuts, fucking chow down right in front of them, let them get a front row seat to the swelling fucking monsters they created, bulking out of our clothes in front of them until we're buck-ass naked!"

"Fucking-A!" Will chortled. "Yeah, imagine if we got even bigger, like not just huge, I'm talking about fucking MASSIVE…they'd start pulling out their wallets and just start throwing them at us!"

They both continued to laugh as that loaded statement hung in the air of the room, like a smell that reminded you of a jovial feeling or funny memory. As they caught their breathing and the laughter died down a bit, the statement still hung there awkwardly, the scent slightly aged but sweeter, less reminiscent of a funny memory and more like the wafting, forbidden scent of a tantalizing pie…

"Uh, Frank?" Will began, slowly. "I'm feeling a wee bit peckish. I mean, I'm practically wasting away here, as you can see. What about you?"

"That does sound serious," Frank said, halfway in denial of what they were both silently thinking. "If you are asking if I could eat, the answer is yes, always."

Will grinned. "Got a place in mind?"

"Several, actually," Frank answered, hardly believing what they were both agreeing to. "And the best part is, they all deliver."

Will got that devious look in his eye again. "Excellent."

*****************************

For the next several hours, couriers from over a dozen fast food locations and restaurants, cuisine specialties ranging between Tex-Mex, Chinese, Steakhouse, Korean, Halal, Fried Chicken, BBQ and many more, filled obscenely large orders that amounted to a couple hundred dollars each.

A few of these couriers would sometimes awkwardly make it to the door at the same time, dropping off their cargo of several styrofoam or plastic containers filled to the brim with steaming food, both wondering if there was a big party going on but not hearing any indicators of one.

By the end of the night, a final courier made it to the door that evening, balancing a heaping pile of several pizzas and setting it down. The courier frowned, seeing a few bags of untouched food from other restaurants sitting in the cold next to the door. He made to knock on the door, wondering if the tenant inside was available to receive the food, or just didn't realize he had food waiting at the door, when the courier noticed that the door was slightly ajar. He moved closer, peering inside.

After a few seconds, his eyes shot open in shock, not believing what he was seeing. Heart pounding, he took a step back, then another, before turning on his heel and sprinting to his car, not looking back.

************************

Throughout the night, Frank handled door duty, bringing the food inside after the couriers left. He figured it was better if he didn't deal with the questioning looks of the delivery men sizing him and Will up, taking in their jaw-dropping proportions, possibly leading to pointless conversations and small talk like "you look like you enjoy your meals" or "damn, man, you're huge, do you work out?" he had been experiencing all week. It only resulted in less time for Frank and Will to gorge themselves.

Not that he minded the attention, he kind of liked being the center of whatever room he entered, and people parted ways for him once they saw a cross between a bull and a pufferfish barreling their way. Maybe he'd keep some of the weight after being "cured." He'd like to maintain some of that awe and respect of his size.

Unless Will had anything to say about it. It was an unspoken rivalry, and Will already had a headstart on him, size-wise. Frank was supposed to be the "big guy" of their group, after all, since he was a weightlifter. Time to show it.

They started out slow, waiting until several bags of food had been delivered, arranging it so that they were in easy reach of both of them. Will moved his bulk to the center of the couch, so that the food could be piled to either side of him. Frank dragged the dining table until it was next to the recliner, and placed a tv dinner tray on the other side for good measure.

While they were preparing for the long haul, several more bags of food had arrived, contributing to the hills of nourishment being arranged all around them.

"Well boys," Will said, jokingly addressing the bacteria inside his massive stomach. He balanced a large bucket of fried chicken atop of it. "Dig in!"

Frank followed suit, popping open a round container stuffed with teriyaki beef and broccoli, using a fork to steadily shovel it into his maw, quickly chewing, swallowing, and opening his mouth for the next round.

Will was equally systematic in his approach. He used his teeth to tear large swaths of chicken, unwrapping an entire leg in one expert motion. He chewed, mouth overstuffed with meat, lips barely able to close as he mashed it around before his throat bulged with a massive swallow. He belched, tossed the bone and immediately started on the next piece.

For about fifteen minutes, there were no words spoken, just the slurping, gorging, and burping sounds of two very big boys going to town. It was less of a job and more of a pleasure, as both men had spent the last two weeks intermittently dieting to no avail. It just felt so damn GOOD to no longer deny themselves and just give in to the decadence and gluttony of eating a shit ton of delicious food.

Frank was on the precipice of feeling full, having eaten through a couple of bags, barely making a dent in the mountain of food available to him. But then the strangest thing happened. The fullness stayed at bay, like he was nearly full, but not quite full-full. In fact, the longer he dwelled on it, the lesser the feeling became, even as he continued to stuff his face with no end in sight.

That was when he noticed it. Deep within his beachball gut, he felt a low gurgling. Normally, that sound would have signaled that Frank had overdone it, but this

was a happy gurgle of digestion, like having a few bites of a delicious meal after not having anything to eat for several hours. It was the sound of a stomach calling for reinforcements and digestive acids to break down the nutrients as quickly as possible to feed the “starving” body.

The gurgling increased in intensity, now joined by a low rumble. Frank stopped his gorging to place his hands on his stomach. He pressed in with his fingertips, denying what he felt but unable to disprove what his eyes could plainly see. As an undeniable pressure pushed back, his belly was subtly and steadily…expanding.

“Whoa,” he said, feeling his fingers spread wider under his rotund paunch’s conquest upward and outward. He could feel his glutted navel compress into a rounded diamond of flesh, being compounded by fat on every side, a tiny dark ship in a sea of rising fat, and growing tinier by the second. Then inevitably, the navel slipped out of reach from his probing finger.

He looked up excitedly at Will, about to tell him to look, when a dismaying sight met his gaze. Will continued to graze from his piles of food, his bovine-like size becoming ever more apparent, asserting its dominance upon anyone who dared looked upon it. Already his corpulent form had swollen larger, his once-loose tent of a button shirt now fighting to hold back his burgeoning flab, gaps widening between fraying buttons that struggled to contain him. His teardrop-shaped belly lobes lazily glorped wider and lower, one side swelling fatter than the other, filling like a giant sack of pudding threatening to overflow the fabric and steal room from his rapidly widening love handles and engorging moobs that pulsed fuller, pushing his arms steadily outward from his blobbish form. Will smiled smugly at Frank, not even realizing that as he did so, a very round, extremely full, donut of jiggly fat was quickly rising from his groin between his lopsided belly lobes. The bloated fupa began to press gently at first, then forcefully against the slacks zipper, developing as a second “belly” with the plainly visible outline of a gaping navel where his dick should be. Frank was the only one who noticed this drastic development, as Will would not be seeing past his rising mountain of lard any

time soon. Unsure why, Frank felt a pang of jealousy toward his friend and began to redouble, no, retriple his efforts to catch up.

He didn’t even bother swallowing. The bacteria would do all the work right? All that mattered is that he catch up to and surpass Will. He began rapid swallowing a large bowl of Chicken Tiki Marsala in seconds, before tossing the empty vessel and moving to several shish kebabs, running his finger down the skewers and forcing several large chunks of meat into his mouth. As he chewed, he tasted an explosion of meat and vegetable juices before gulping them down to feed his monstrous tank fixing to become the size of an oil rig.

The rumbling grew louder, his stomach creaking rounder and rounder, the faint traces of power abs fading as his fat-packed stomach layered behind then beyond it, looking like a seasoned, middle-aged biker beer gut after swallowing a keg and being hooked to an air compressor. Frank’s arms slowly swelled outward, his biceps developing more jiggle but pushing outward like bowling balls. His arms in turn were pushed outward by the creaking incursion of his pecs, stuffed with so much moob meat and being filled with more by the second. It was a somewhat scary feeling at first, like two alien masses attached to your chest, pulsing fuller and fuller, making Frank wonder if maybe he was going too far. His nipples, taking it like champs in their attempt to maintain their strongman appearance, swelled fatter themselves, darkening as they engorged, skin stretching thinner as they grew wider with nubs the size of cockheads, rubbing roughly and starkly against shirt cloth. Speaking of which, the shirt raised higher against the greedy, guzzling oil rig of a gut, getting its fill at the station but refusing to give up the nozzle. It had rapidly swelled to the size of a truck tire, before attempting to test the challenge of tractor truck tire next.

Small, sensitive red stretchmarks began to appear on the titan belly as it gurgled even higher and further outward, refusing to sag but hovering uncomfortably far beyond Frank’s knees, threatening to tip him forward out of the recliner. In a second of panic, Frank leaned all the way back, pulling the recliner lever. The

bottom portion of the chair shot out as the back leaned back. The hemisphere of his blimp gurgled and sloshed angrily as the center of its weight repositioned in the middle of the chair. He was suddenly pinned down by the gravid planetoid of belly, held uncomfortably in place by his own gravity. He had a second to catch his breath before he heard a loud crash of a couch hitting the ground, no doubtedly giving in to Will’s absolutely crushing weight. In a frenzy, Frank began slurping, swallowing and gulping with renewed vigor, not wanting to lose to Will.

Unbeknownst to Frank, Will was undoubtedly fatter, yes, but he had actually stopped eating for a few minutes. The resulting crash of the couch was more due to his prolonged sitting in it than any further increases in his tonnage. His blobbish gut had already blown out of its cloth prison, popping several buttons in the span of a minute, the top buttons following suit when his doughy breasts the size of overfilled garbage bags blew them off. His collar button befell a similar fate, a second chin the size of an innertube and sporting a tiny goatee in the middle of its expanse, absolutely blowing that button off in a glorious, jiggly explosion. He audibly moaned when he felt the release of pressure from his neck. His large, cottage cheese thighs billowed continuously outward, decimating the slacks they were trapped within, popping threads mercilessly until nothing was left. His fadpad finally popped through the tortured zipper, a giant mound of hairy, ultra soft white flesh pushing through until the entire slacks opening was busted wide open under his sloppy and wide overhang. It was pure, hedonistic bliss to become a blob. And best of all, it was like he was getting paid to do it!

It was at this time that he began taking a break from eating, when he decided to look over at Frank to check up on his progress. To his surprise, Frank’s ball belly had grown to be quite colossal, and was still throbbing visibly bigger. Will whistled in appreciation. He knew he was a big hulking lardass compared to Frank, but damn, the guy was giving him a run for his money. At that moment, he could hear a peculiar rumbling growing louder, and as if Frank’s monstrous ballgut could hear Will’s thoughts, it suddenly pushed outward nearly a foot all around in a few seconds. Will coughed in surprise, his jaw dropping as he watched his friend’s midsection ballooning quicker than it should have been. Upon watching closer,

Will realized that the rest of Frank’s body wasn’t expanding as quickly as his abnormally pronounced table muscle. It was as if the bacteria was working to store as much nutrients as they could in the most readily available storage space as quickly as possible. This meant siphoning off size that would have been meant for his arms, legs, back and lovehandles and redirecting it to the massive growth predator now attached to Frank’s body.

He watched as Frank began to tip forward from the size of his massive ballgut pumping outward with abandon and no end in sight, before Frank thrusted backward and pulled the lever to the recliner, rebalancing the huge mass over the center of the chair.

Just then, the stubby legs of the couch Will was lounging on broke in rapid succession, causing him to fall a foot, his massive body jiggling all around him. “Whoa, fuck,” he said, vainly attempting to calm and settle the hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of soft, rippling fat that encased him, enshrouded him like unsteady waves. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, like being cradled in a warm, jiggly protective cocoon. Once he was settled and his heart stopped racing. He looked back toward Frank. His heart nearly lurched out of his chest.

“Uh, Frank?” he called nervously, eyeing the widening stretchmarks covering the flesh-colored expanse. “I think we’re good now. You can stop chowing down.”

The rounding sphere only shuddered in response, mounding upward as Frank’s belly button yawned torturously wider atop of the swelling blimp, anchored at a 45-degree angle toward the ceiling, newer fat pushing it upward from below. His legs bucked sporadically, knees trying their best to brace against the gigantic balloon of firm, compressed fat, in order to keep it centered. With his legs jerking like that, it almost looked like a trapped person was trying to get out from underneath a massive boulder, but Will knew better. The boulder nearly obscured the flailing arms, continuing to recklessly grab from the nearly finished piles of

food amid the sea of spent shells of styrofoam containers. The dumb, fat behemoth was still stuffing himself silly, Will thought, panicked, as even Frank’s arms were hidden from the all-consuming ball of flesh.

“Frank! You fat bastard! You gotta stop!” Will yelled over the cacophony of gurgles and rumblings coming from the planet of flesh, easily drowning his voice out. He attempted to get up, but he was weighed down from his own personal gluttony demon and was paying the price for it.

The throbbing sphere attached to Frank’s body continued to groan audibly, creaking ever wider before Will’s eyes. Stretchmarks raced across the endless expanse, tiger stripes radiating from the overencumbered navel, flattening somewhat as it pushed skyward. The shuddering mound gurgled and creaked, sounding almost comically like a stretching water balloon, if Will was in a lighter mood. This was no laughing matter, however, as the nourishing properties of the bacteria seemed to be unable to keep up with the concentrated growth spurt in Frank’s freakishly mammoth belly.

The fleshy sphere grew so round and taut, that it had almost covered the entirety of Frank’s legs, leaving only his wiggling shoes visible. It bulged grotesquely over either side of the chair’s armrests, making the brown chair seem like a tiny basket attached to a human hot air balloon, filling with hundreds of gallons of compressed gas per second.

The gargantuan beer belly on steroids shuddered, halfway to the ceiling and creaking slightly fuller, as if resisting further size, fighting pressurized equilibrium. This is not a fight Frank would win. Will worried for his friend and what he had gotten him into. No amount of money was worth this.

Just when the rumbling began to reach a quavering crescendo, something miraculous happened. It began to taper off. Incredulously, the throbbing sphere began to pulse slower, like a heartbeat returning to normal speed. It was still gigantic, but it was no longer looking fit to blow like a pressurized fuel canister. Will could hear a subtle mumbling coming from the other side of the packed bulldozer belly. He strained to hear what was being said.

“...finished my food,” Frank mumbled, letting loose a sudden belch. “Can’t move…can you…check the door…*urrrp*…for more?”

“You dumb…fat fucking bastard,” Will whispered.

They were going to be fucking rich.