Dispatches: Pride Month

Los Angeles, CA / June 6 / West Hollywood

Lex had bulked too hard over the winter. He couldn’t help it, he wanted mass at any cost. The problem was that now he was paying the price. It was already summer and he’d only lost ten pounds. He still had a gut that was so fat it actually folded into an overhang. He had never been this big before and didn’t know how to handle it. 

At first, he was insecure about joining his friends for a night out. He knew at some point shirts would come off and everyone would be confronted with the fact his jock body was getting swallowed up with fat. Nevertheless, FOMO got him out of the house and to the pregame and by the time the clock struck midnight he was dancing shirtless at the club. Thankfully, his friends were too drunk to notice, though a few strangers weren’t shy about gripping his pudge. 

Lex was more drunk than he intended which meant all inhibition had gone out the window. He shamelessly grinded on the guys who squeezed and slapped at his belly until his vision became blurred. He knew he was getting too drunk and had to remedy this. He ordered a water at the bar but that didn’t do much. Then he remembered something: hot dog vendors. 

Inconspicuously he slipped out of the club and drunkenly downed a hot dog in a few messy bites. He went back inside and washed the smell from his hands before hitting the dance floor. Suddenly his stomach started growling. Eating had only activated his appetite. Now he needed more. It had been hours since he’d had dinner after all. 

On their way to the next club, he bought another hot dog and pretended it was his first. One of his friends poked at his belly but he was too involved with eating to really pay it much mind. They went inside and Lex ordered a beer, hoping it would help fill his stomach up. He downed it in about ten minutes and was still unsatisfied. He wanted more food. They were dancing after all, which burned hundreds of calories. Lex convinced himself this was basically a workout and he needed fuel. He told his friends he was going to smoke a cig and headed outside. 

There was a taco truck on the corner so he ordered three tacos. They were small street tacos and went down easy. As he sat on the curb stuffing his face he could feel the weight of his belly pushing at the button of his jeans. He was bloating up from the alcohol and food. He looked at himself in the reflection of a parked car. There was no hiding the pot belly. In fact, a bear walked by at that very moment and patted his stomach. “Looking good, big guy.” 

Lex shrugged it off. He was sobering up a tad but was still hungry. Part of him wanted to go home and kill a large pepperoni pizza, but he knew he had to make it to last call. So Lex bought one more hot dog, inhaled it, and stormed back to the dancefloor. Joining his friends, one of them looked at him and laughed. 

“You got mustard on your face.” 

Lex wiped the condiment with the back of his hand and headed to the bar for a shot. 

Portland, OR / June 21 / Hotel

This was my first Pride and I was quaking in my boots. I came from a small town in rural Oregon. Only a few of my friends knew I was gay. Absolutely no one knew I had a fetish for fat guys. Hell, I struggled to even admit that much to myself let alone anyone else. All I knew was that I had to get out of my comfort zone, go into the city, and get a taste of what life could be like. 

I had waited until I was of drinking age and booked a cheap hotel not far from where most of the gay bars were located. I knew no one in Portland, at least no gay people, so I had to brave up and fare the festivities alone. Friday night wasn’t easy. I was nervous and flinchy, walking from bar to bar and drinking beer alone in the corner. I admired the diversity of people, my eyes dwelling on the bears who confidently displayed their curves in tight gear. 

They seemed to dress to accentuate their girth. Tight strappy clothes cut into their excess flesh, displaying bulbous love handles, vibrant stretch marks, and heavy man boobs. Some guys even allowed their overhang to luxuriously spill out of their snug T-shirt. It drove me wild. I watched with stars in my eyes as these men made out and fondled each other, their behemoth bodies awkwardly colliding, the flesh spreading out against one another. I went back to the hotel and jacked off furiously that first night. 

Saturday was the parade and I was pretty drunk before the sun had even set. How else was I supposed to get through this solo adventure? I sat on a park bench watching the parade when a plump young guy around my age sat down next to me. I was startled when he asked my name. He was cute with a pot belly pushing at the seams of a tank top and hairy thighs that spread out atop the bench. 

He revealed he had seen me bopping around the bars last night. I felt exposed, but then he said to me, “You like thick boys, huh?” and pushed his thigh against mine. I couldn’t help it, I was instantly hard. He chuckled and we began to make out. He tasted salty and like liquor. My cock gushed precum and I developed a wet spot on my jeans. He invited me to join his group of friends, to which I agreed. 

By the end of the night I had him back in my hotel room. We stripped naked. His body was even more glorious than I had imagined. Broad shoulders and thin arms stood in sharp contrast to the mass of chub hanging off his abdomen like a gelatinous watermelon. He was fuzzy all over and I ran my hands through his happy trail, pressing against the lushness of extra weight. Thick thighs and a surprisingly protuberant fat pad hung heavy below his gut. 

Drunk and out of control, I smashed my face against the puffiness of his groin. I moved my head back and forth like an animal, huffing his pheromones and altogether ignoring his cock. He seemed to understand my fetish and grabbed me by the back of my head and sunk my face into his deliciously fuzzy flubbery belly fat. I was so overwhelmed I orgasmed right then and there. 

Nashville, TN / June 27 / Airbnb

It was my first Pride as a bonafide bear. It had been a long time coming. I was 35 and finally hit 250 pounds. All my life I had been skinny, and then a muscle bro, but finally I gave in and pushed myself to get genuinely fat. Last Pride, I was 200 pounds which was solid for me, but during the past year I unleashed my inner pig. The subsequent 50 pounds were pure lard and hung from my waist like a gooey sack of bricks. I was ecstatic to show it off. 

Most of my friends were still muscle queens so I definitely looked out of place in my vintage band tee that casually allowed a solid inch of solid chub to hang exposed. They teased me a bit but weren’t surprised as I had always had a predilection for larger men. We hit the circuit and it didn’t take long before I was chatting up a hefty man at the bar. Before I knew it I had joined his pack of bears back at their Airbnb. 

The men were a bit older than me, in their late 30s and 40s, all large and in charge. The smallest guy was close to my size and the largest one had a waddle so slow you wondered how he got anything done. We were all drunk and the guys ordered pizza delivered. When it arrived we were all stripped down to our Speedos ready for the hot tub. Tiny strips of fabric cupped our bulges that were mostly eclipsed by our aprons of belly fat and wobbling thighs. It was almost comical. We might as well have been naked, you could hardly tell the difference. 

Altogether there were five men in the house, including myself. Four of us fit into the hot tub comfortably, but when the fattest guy, the one with the waddle, Vito, returned with the pizza all bets were off. First off, the stack of pizza boxes was so tall I couldn’t even count how many there were. We balanced the boxes on tables next to the hot tub. Then Vito slowly climbed the steps to the hot tub. Each step was heavy and slow, carefully finding his footing because he couldn’t see the ground past his own mass. When he finally got in he took up a good deal of the hot tub. Now we were all shoulder to shoulder and the water was close to overflowing. 

I didn’t mind it though. I had strategically positioned myself next to the hottest two guys. My hands explored their burly thighs under the water. My fingers cupped their balls and stroked at their erections. Everyone was doing the same to whoever was next to them. Except Vito. I think no one could actually reach Vito’s prick, so they rubbed his belly instead. Those who had free hands ate pizza and fed pizza to those nearby. The guy next to me got some sauce on his shoulder so I licked it up. He liked that and lifted his arm up so his ripe pit was facing me. I dove in, saturating my face in his musk. 

People began making out and eventually we were all naked. The tiny swimsuits had been a near formality. I squeezed big heavy tits covered in chest hair and left hickies on thick necks that were disappearing beneath neck and back fat. Someone fingered my ass while someone else played with my cheeks. Occasionally I’d stroke my own foreskin but not too frequently as I was close to orgasm pretty fast. 

Time moved slowly as we filled our bodies up with pizza and more alcohol. As things got frisky the waves of the hot tub splashed onto the ground. Eventually guys were fucking. I was fucking ass and then belly-fucked Vito for a bit. I bottomed briefly but mostly had my ass eaten. I got so much hair in my mouth from so many different men. I ate several armpits and touched every man’s butt. By the time I finally came the pizza was gone and the hot tub was murky. Everyone’s skin was beet red and their eyes were heavy lidded. I was invited to spend the night and piled into bed with a couple of the guys. In the morning we did it all over again. 

London, England / July 5 / Pride Parade

Norwen was nervous to see his coworkers. The last time he saw the majority of them was over a year and seventy pounds ago before he moved to Manchester. He had left London to be with his husband who had gotten a great job in Manchester. Norwen had the privilege of going fully remote so that’s what he did. He had no idea it would change his physique so dramatically. 

He started puffing up the first few months in. He had led an active life in London, but since moving he cancelled his gym membership and spent all his time nesting and working. He rarely left the house and ordered almost every meal in. Meanwhile, his husband found his new job stressful and was spending long hours at the office. Their only time together was typically around the dinner table, so meals became lavish and celebratory. 

Ten pounds turned to twenty and before he knew it he had a paunch and an expired wardrobe. Norwen’s husband was porking up as well. The couple spent their time indoors instead of going to the club. The new friends they made were also chubby and enjoyed big meals over wild nights out. Soon enough their excess weight became a given. Besides, weren’t all married men their age sporting a pot belly? 

However, Norwen wasn’t feeling so confident when his company asked him to come march in the Pride parade. They even sent him a matching T-shirt to wear, in his old size. When he put it on the fabric clung to every square inch of his body. One wrong move and his doughy white flesh would be exposed. Norwen made a promise to himself to drop ten pounds and fit into the shirt. 

By the time he was stepping off the tube to meet his coworkers, he had actually gained ten pounds. He wished he had just asked for a bigger shirt from the jump. He now had to suck in just to keep his rolls of flesh from wobbling out from underneath the hem. When he joined the group of colleagues on the sidewalk he was flushed from a mix of embarrassment and the walk over. 

He got many comments, but they all were a different flavor of: “Manchester is really treating you well, huh?” The CFO even patted his belly. He felt fat and exposed and could feel the shirt clinging to the sweat on his back. They mounted the modest float and the parade got going. The sun was uncharacteristically brutal. Sweat stains grew underneath his arms and chest, spreading wider and wider with each minute. The white cotton became see-through. 

After the parade they headed to a bar where Norwen got lots of glances from local guys. He downed a beer and a shot quickly to take the edge off. The bartender, a chunky guy himself, offered Norwen a free shot and said: “On me big guy,” with a wink. Later, on his way across the dancefloor to the bathroom a twink grabbed his overhang with a mischievous smile. As he pissed, the muscle boy next to him at the trough glanced over devilishly, then reached his hand over and rubbed Norwen’s belly slowly. Norwen watched as the man’s cock grew fully erect in his hand. 

Norwen had an open marriage but scurried still out of the situation in the bathroom. When he returned to the bar he wasn’t aware of the fact that a good three inches of his gut were hanging exposed. An older bear approached him and grabbed the fuzzy belly fat with ardour. “Let’s fill you up,” he said and ordered Norwen another drink. 

By the end of the day Norwen was blasted. He was drenched in alcohol and sweat, his belly could not be contained, nor did he try to contain it. He trotted around the city with his fresh belly fat on full display, exposed overhang and all. The best part: he continued to get hit on. He reckoned he got more attention as a fat guy than he ever did when he was skinny. His confidence skyrocketed and he felt proud of his new fuller form. 

Minneapolis, MN / June 28 / Apartment building

I stumbled home after day drinking and watching the parade with my friends. As I entered the courtyard I saw my sexy downstairs neighbor shirtless, sweating, and slumped over on his stoop with a Bud Light. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. He had the corn fed bulkiness of a man born and raised in the midwest. He had strong shoulders and a strong chest, with an even stronger beer belly developing. The tuft of chest hair between his pecs and swirling happy trail were damp with sweat. Surprisingly he held up his beer as though to cheers me.

“You have fun out there?” he bellowed. 

Somewhat startled, I slowed down my step and replied in the affirmative. He then asked me how the parade was and if I had a favorite float. I had never spoken to this man before and was sure he was straight– I had seen his girlfriend come and go a million times. So I answered his questions with a tone of curiosity and skepticism. I wondered if I was on the verge of getting hate crimed. 

Then he smiled and I saw a glint in his eye that I recognized. All men get the same look when they’re horny, gay or straight. This guy was horny. He invited me inside for a beer and I cautiously accepted. The apartment smelled a bit musty and I noticed the recycle bin was already overflowing with empty beer bottles. He cracked a new one for me and then himself. We clinked glasses and took a swig. 

“I like your tattoo,” he said and stepped close so our bodies were almost touching. “What’s it say?” He slowly brushed his thumb against the latin words inked on my chest. 

I was glad I did a chest work out earlier that day, and answered him with a cracked voice. He kept his hand on my chest and began to massage my pectoral muscle. It felt good and I could feel myself getting hard. He kept his eyes on my chest and neck for what seemed like a long time before looking up at my face. He had an obvious hunger in his eyes. We kissed, our beer breath intertwining. 

He set his glass on the counter and grabbed my hips, pressing me into the soft mass of body. He was hot to the touch and I could feel the sweat coating his belly seep through my cotton tee. As we made out his hands sunk beneath my waistband and cupped my bare ass cheeks. He was strong and pushed my hips against his groin forcefully, causing our hard ons to press against one another. 

He mumbled “fuck” while loosening his grip and taking a step back to undo my pants. With my jeans on the floor he crouched down and shoved his face far between my cheeks. It had been a long sweaty day and I was surprised by his enthusiasm. When he tired, I returned the favour and dropped his pants. They were quite snug and it was clear he had outgrown them. He wasn’t wearing underwear and struggled to get the denim past his thighs, causing his thick uncut cock to bob in the air comically. 

I took him in my mouth and worked the shaft for a bit, his thick slab of belly fat pressing against my forehead the whole time. When he got close to orgasm he pushed me away and then flipped me around. He clearly wanted ass. With a wad of spit he lubed up my hole. I was nervous I hadn’t cleaned out, but I took his large pipe surprisingly well. He sunk his cock deep inside and then wrapped his arms around me. The dense padding of his midsection enveloped my lower back as he thrust into me. I pleasured myself as he fucked me and within a few minutes we were both moaning in orgasm. 

He held me in his arms, his dick softening up inside of me, for several minutes while both of us caught our breath. When he finally pulled out he cleaned me up with a paper towel and helped me get dressed. With a goofy smile on his face and beads of sweat on his forehead, he kissed me and said: “Happy Pride.”