Entitled: Chapter 3

It was the middle of August during a heatwave. Quinn broke a sweat walking between his car and the front door of the apartment. When he stepped inside the air was thick with the smell of McDonald’s, marijuana, and body odor. Valentino was passed out on the couch, empty bags of McDonald’s surrounding him and chocolate milkshake smeared across his face. His belly poured out of a snug T-shirt and pushed at the elastic band of his briefs. His head was tucked into his developing double chin as he snored loudly, and his hands were wedged between padded thighs. A fart escaped while he slept. 

Quinn stared at the former twink. He reckoned that Val had gained thirty or forty pounds since fall semester, maybe more. Watching him balloon was shocking, disgusting, and erotic. Unquestionably, there was no limit on how far the man’s greed and gluttony could go. Quinn almost felt bad for plotting to fatten Valentino up, but he realized a few weeks ago that this was the path Valentino was already headed down regardless. At most, Quinn jump started it. 

Quinn approached the couch and placed his hand just above Val’s knee, shaking it a bit so the fat of his thigh wobbled him awake. “Val, wake up. Your birthday party is in a few hours.” 

Valentino grunted and Quinn shook his leg again. Watching the fat undulate from the force of his hand sent a quiver through Quinn’s loins. The supine chub finally stirred and sat up awkwardly against the force of the belly overwhelming his midsection. Valentino belched and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He grabbed the empty milkshake cup from the table and slurped at the straw uselessly. 

“Your party is in three and a half hours. You need to start getting ready.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Valentino shooed Quinn away. “Make me a strawberry daiquiri will you?” 

~ 

An hour later Quinn waded through the crowd at the club venue where Valentino was hosting his party. The birthday boy had yet to make his grand entrance. Quinn barely knew any of the wannabe socialites and fashion gays that populated the party. In comparison, he felt shabby and over-bulked next to their lithe expertly dressed bodies. He grabbed a beer from the bar and sipped it as the doors to the front of the club swung open and the music transitioned. Valentino had arrived. 

A spotlight from outside blinded the partygoers as Val strutted forward in silhouette, every curve dramatically wobbling with each step. A flurry of camera flashes from paparazzi Val had hired captured his entrance. Once inside and the doors closed Valentino belted: “I’ve arrived!” 

Whispers broke out amongst the crowd. People gasped, pointed, covered their mouths in shock. Was that? It couldn’t be. Quinn watched awkwardly as the surprise quickly turned to judgment. From every corner he heard murmurings of “fat,” “weight gain,” “humongous,” “pig,” the list went on and on. Valentino strutted through the crowd oblivious, air kissing his guests and working his way over to the bar where he completely ignored Quinn. It wasn’t until he had a glass of champagne in hand and turned to face the crowd that he realized something was amiss. 

It took about an hour for Valentino to come to odds with his social exile and then extricate himself from the party and demand that Quinn drive him home. As soon as the car door shut Valentino was irate. A slurred tirade recounting every snide comment made by every supposed friend poured from his mouth. He stopped talking only to demand that Quinn drive through Taco Bell. And it wasn’t until he tore through seventy dollars worth of fast food while sitting in the car that his temperament changed from anger to confusion to embarrassment. 

The food was gone when they arrived home. Valentino headed straight for the liquor cabinet and then for a mac ‘n cheese casserole Quinn had deliberately left waiting in the fridge. With a serving spoon he shoveled the casserole straight from the dish into his mouth, washing it down with a rum soaked chocolate milk. Stooped over the counter, he drunkenly complained of “fake friends” in between gulps and belches and mentions of “a little weight gain.” Quinn had never seen Val in such a state.

Taking pity, Quinn ushered Val to his bedroom where he helped the stumbling ex-twink undress. The guy was truly getting fat. His gut and butt had each developed their own gelatinous overhang, the former gobbling up the waistband of his briefs and the latter straining their confines. The way the excess weight quivered with every motion tempted Quinn. Watching his roommate expand was a dazzlingly experience and he yearned to cup the soft jelly rolls piling up atop Valentino’s bones. Yet, he resisted taking advantage and headed to bed with a hard on. 

That night, Quinn awoke confused. He felt a pressure atop him and when he opened his eyes he was in disbelief. Valentino looked down at Quinn, breathing heavily, as he guided Quinn’s erection between his fluffy ass cheeks. Valentino’s belly spilled forward enticingly and was stained with something sticky. The overweight bottom placed Quinn’s hands to his over sized ass. Now Quinn was awake. He sunk his palms into those two globes of fat with vigor. The plush padding spread between his fingers like soft warm dough. Quinn kneaded the blubber lovingly and sunk his cock deeper inside of Val. 

As their bodies began to writhe in unison Quinn was immediately on the precipice of orgasm. He sat up and tasted the sticky liquid on encrusted on Valentino’s belly. It was chocolate syrup and melted ice cream. Val must have gotten hungry in the night, sloppily pouring more sugar and calories down his gullet. The man was becoming such a pig. 

“Wait, I’m-!” Quinn moaned. 

Valentino didn’t acquiesce. Instead, he bounced his weight around so it jiggled wildly. That was just enough to send Quinn over the edge.