Second First Date

I don’t think highly of online dating but what other option is there these days? I suppose that little kink of mine doesn’t help either. See, I enjoy thick boys. Well, to be more precise I enjoy boys getting thicker. I like when a guy gives in to his base impulses and overeats day after day until it begins to show up on his waistline. I like watching him outgrow his clothes and adjust to life as a paunchy guy, as a chubby guy, as a fat guy, as an obese guy. The progression is what’s hot and all that comes with it. Sometimes I indulge the idea of putting on weight myself, but preferably with another hungry mate at my side.

When this is what you jerk off to most nights it can be difficult finding someone “normal” to date. Sure, there’s Grommr but that app is a true hellscape of prudish moderators trying to wrangle tactless perverts. So, of course I’m back on the usual: Grindr, Hinge, Tindr, etc. I try to choose wisely from the options on these apps.

I’ve set up a date with a guy named Hugo. Hugo is a short king according to his stats and he already looks stacked. He clearly goes to the gym and has broad shoulders and an ass he’s not afraid to show off. Gym guys are easy to encourage because they already have a big appetite and short guys gain weight faster than most. Check and check. The third mark of a fledgling fatty is if he was fat as a kid, but that one is harder to discern from a dating profile.

Hugo and I don’t spend much time chatting before scheduling a drinks date. I like it that way. Easy, cut to the chase. I dress in all black and choose one of my tighter T-shirts. I’ve been working out recently and I like to show off the results. At 28, six feet tall, and 170 pounds it’s like I’m fighting for my life not to appear as a twink. My Levi’s are snug and show off my ass which is good because Hugo gives top vibes. I call a Lyft to the bar.

I’m late but I still arrive there first. I down a shot and then order a cocktail which I nurse slowly. I’m nervous, of course. I don’t want to be stood up or have a bad night. I’m sitting at the bar refreshing my messages app when a strong hand slaps down onto my shoulder, startling me somewhat.

“Carlos?” he says and I turn around.

I am pleasantly surprised. Hugo is bigger than his pictures let on. He’s wearing a gray tee that leaves very little to the imagination. I first notice his pecs which are huge and inviting. I want to suck on them. They’re framed by the shoulders I knew would be broad and arms that are more hulking in person. His shirt sort of bunches up in the armpit in that way that only happens to buff guys. He has slight pit stains and I think about licking them.

The best part of all is that he has a definite starter belly. He’s not fat per se. I mean, he’s a heavy guy for sure but I think most people would say he’s not actually fat. Yet, at least. He has about two spare inches of chub encasing his middle section. Just enough to bulge out. Just enough to communicate that the dude is not skipping any meals.

We hug and I don’t want to let go. I want him to squeeze me until I snap in half and then fuck me like a disposable fleshlight. I’m practically hard. We sit down and I try to conceal how flustered I am. Normally, I’m pretty smooth on dates but I also am not normally so attracted to the guy sitting across from me. He orders a beer and the small talk commences. I’m distracted at first because I love when guys order beer. Not only is it macho but it bloats them up so beautifully.

Still, I learn various things about his life. He has two siblings, a boy and a girl. He’s the youngest. He grew up poor and - cha ching! - was overweight as a child. He works for a tech company or something I don’t fully understand. He used to play football in high school which of course leaves me salivating. He says he still got bullied for being gay though, even though he was beefy. He actually uses that word, “beefy,” and I start to get hard again.

Two beers in and we’re both starting to get tipsy and he’s bloating up with every sip. This man is a tank, or at the very least a tank in the making. I can tell he can throw ‘em back like it’s nobody’s business. Plus, he’s only 25. It’s not hard to imagine what he’ll look like at 35. It’s impossible to maintain that muscle mass without plumping up a bit too, especially once he hits 30 and his metabolism tanks.

Thankfully, we’re getting on well and things are becoming flirtatious. We’re sitting closer facing one another on the bar stools. We each have one thigh between the other’s legs and occasionally they touch or one of us laughs and places a hand on the other’s leg. Both of us are in snug denim, at least through the thighs, though he probably has about six inches in circumference more than me. I can see his bulge too. He’s got a nice cock I’m sure but I try not to glance at it too often.

Some sarcastic comment of mine gets him to laugh and he actually places a hand on his belly like Santa Claus or some shit. At this point we’re each several drinks in and his shirt is painted on. I can tell by the way the hem is falling on his sides that his lower back is probably showing. I wish there was a mirror or something behind him so I could see the glory of his ass crack but I’m happy making due with the front.

When he’s done laughing he wipes some sweat from his brow and throws his hands behind his head. I can tell he’s going to stretch and I try to mask my absolute lust. With his arms back I get a full view of his pit stains and can even catch a whiff. His biceps are bulging which I can sense is what he wants me to look at. I look at them. One has a tattoo, some script or something. As he stretches his shirt rides up just barely enough to reveal a sliver of belly fat. I’m practically drooling. His stomach is hairier than I anticipated.

He puts his arms down, clearly pleased with his own display. I reach over and place a hand on his bicep. I ask what the tattoo says. He answers but I forget what he says because now we’re leaning close and I know what comes next. He places a hand on my leg and I place one on his side. It’s soft with pudge. We kiss.

I have an instant erection. We kiss again and make out a little. I could keep going but hold back since we’re in a public place. His hand is now rubbing my cock through my pants and I’m surely wet as fuck. My phone rings but I ignore it. We kiss again as my phone rings again, then once more. It’s my sister and she never calls back to back so I answer.

To my grand dismay there is a serious emergency and I have to bail on this hunk of beef ready for the taking. I can’t believe it, but family does come first. I apologize profusely, we exchange numbers and Instagram, and head out.

One year later

They say fate is a cruel mistress and it's true. I’ll spare you the details but a family tragedy that night resulted in my moving back home to the midwest for an entire year. I even had to quit my job. My luck- I finally find the perfect man and have to give him up before we even start. We did exchange texts for a few weeks before realizing it was a fruitless effort. Even so, you know I followed his social media posts like an FBI agent on the hunt.

Obviously, I was looking to see if he gained weight. My assumption was that he did, but I had no concrete evidence. From what I could tell it looked like his face got a tad fuller. Still, he never posted a single photo below the shoulders. This meant accidental gains were likely. In his tagged photos there was one beach shot in which he was mostly obscured by a crowd of friends. Nevertheless I could still see his left thigh which looked chunky as fuck. Maybe I was reading into things, but that thigh meat looked much juicier than when we had our legs interlocked at the bar a year ago.

Meanwhile, I put on some weight myself. My parents eat like shit and there is no health food in the midwest so I suppose it was inevitable, especially now that I’m pushing 30. Add a fair amount of stress and giving up on my gym routine and voila! Twenty extra pounds. It’s mostly settled on my ass, thighs, and belly. To be honest, it’s not that noticeable. At least I don’t think it is because no one has commented on it. Still, I’m enjoying it.

My ass looks great in every pair of pants I own. I’m constantly playing with it too, it feels so plush. A slap and a jiggle goes a long way when I’m jerking off fantasizing about getting even fatter alongside a gluttonous Prince Charming. The roll on my belly is fun too, but it’s less dramatic. I definitely am interested in putting on more of a gut. I want to be able to sink my hand into a gooey expanse of chub instead of pinching an inch of rubbery excess clinging to my abs.

The good news is that I’m finally moving back to the city and leaving this rather depressing chapter of my life behind. I was able to secure a new job that pays even better than my last and I’ve rented a studio apartment with excellent square footage. Of course, Hugo is on my mind but I feel weird hitting him up. Luckily my new office is located in his neighborhood.

Two months later

Ten pounds in two months. Pretty impressive, huh? It’s finally showing and I think I’m registering as “chunky” to most people. At least that’s how two different friends and one cousin back home referred to me shortly before I left. It wasn’t meant as a compliment but it sure as hell was received as one. It got me so horny that I’m still masturbating to the thought of it.

The most exciting thing is that I jiggle a bit now when I walk. Mostly in my belly but sometimes my chest and ass too if I’m rushing up stairs or something. I’ve even retired some of my favorite tees that were too snug to wear in public. Of course, I kept a couple as mementos so that ten pounds from now I can take comparison pictures. That said, I haven’t been sharing my gains on Grommr much at all. There’s something nice about keeping it to yourself. Sometimes I pretend I’m just another dude pushing 30 whose metabolism got the best of him, when in reality I’m a greedy fag with a niche fetish for men getting fatter.

Returning to the city and re-entering the dating pool 30 pounds heavier has been wild too. I’ve entered a new class of gay man. Out of nowhere all those basic pudgy white dudes with office jobs and all-American good looks who I used to envy and pine over are lining up at my door. It’s hog heaven. Literally. I’m picking guys up on Grindr and Scruff and at bars. They all want to fuck. They all seemed unbothered or even aroused by my beginner belly and fat ass. It’s amazing.

That said, I’ve also experienced the flip side of the coin where muscled hunks glance at my paunch disapprovingly or randoms on the apps say shit like “you’re hot except for that gut.” Little do they know they’re actually encouraging my gains. These experiences are stored away in my mental spank bank for later, alongside random fat guys I see on the street or that great white unicorn I’m still on the hunt for: Hugo.

One month later

So I’m lying in bed with a fat boner scrolling through Grindr when it happens. I see Hugo on the grid. I hesitate before opening his profile but can’t resist for long. He only has three photos up and the first two are cropped in on his face. His face does seem full, but I can’t remember if it always did. The last photo is full body but it's an old one. I remember it from over a year ago. The dude is definitely hiding his body, I can sense it.

I scroll down. He has his age and height listed but not his weight. Cha ching! The boy has gotten fatter, I just know it. I open the chat box and send “I remember you.” I debate if I should send a smiley face too but can’t tell if it’s more creepy with or without. I immediately regret what I sent but my anxiety washes away when he responds only a few moments later.

“The cute boy who left me hanging! How could I forget?” was his response. Now I felt bad. I had apologized long ago for this and didn’t know what to say. I ended up expressing my remorse and then steering the conversation back to the fact that I moved back permanently, hinting that we should pick things up where we left off. Ten minutes on and we are setting a date for drinks later in the week.

The days leading up to our date my confidence began to crack. What if I had imagined our chemistry? What if things didn’t go well on our second first date? What if he didn’t like my plumper body? Fuck, I hated getting in my head about boys. I ended up killing nearly a six pack of beer every night before our date. When the day finally came I looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh at how bloated I was. I guess they called it a beer belly for a reason.

I arrive at the bar first wearing all black so my gains are somewhat ambiguous. I slam a shot before my drink arrives and find a seat with good lighting. I’m nervous. I see a large silhouette come through the door and my heart is pounding. Sure enough, that’s Hugo. He looks huge. Seriously. He’s also wearing all black, surely for the same reason I am, but there’s no hiding his heft. I tell my cock to calm down as he lumbers over.

I stand up as he approaches. We hug, but his belly is kind of in the way and he’s awkward about it. I don’t care and wrap my arms around his beefy body. He’s soft and smells a bit musky. I’m already hard. We exchange pleasantries before he heads to the bar for a drink. I have to pick my jaw up off the floor when I see his ass wobble away from me. It’s like two melons stuffed into denim. I briefly wonder if he had a BBL but then realize he probably wouldn’t have such a gut were that the case. I take a deep breath before he returns. Have to contain my excitement.

The bar is kind of divey with old wood benches and tables. Hugo returns with some fruity looking drink and when he sits down the bench groans loudly. We both hear it and try to ignore the possibility it will collapse. We cheers. After a massive gulp of whatever he ordered, Hugo smiles awkwardly. His cheeks have dimples.

“It’s been awhile,” he says.

Not gonna lie, it’s pretty awkward for a good ten minutes. I’m horny, Hugo seems bashful. As we make small talk I notice a Rolex wrapped around his thick wrists. His shirt also seems nice, possibly designer. His skin is glowing and his teeth sparkle. I don’t remember this dude looking so fresh and am frankly surprised that such a clearly gluttonous guy is so put together.

I ask him about work and my suspicions are confirmed. He’s been promoted several times since we last spoke and is now an executive. He mentions the pay is good but that he’s always stressed. He complains for a bit as I drift off, imagining him growing plumper day by day within an office, his love handles and thighs spreading out until they fill his computer chair, a belly piling up atop his lap, shirts straining at the buttons as he fills up on office snacks. Pretty sure I’m dripping precum.

After a couple more drinks we’re flirting and I invite him back to my place. When I close out at the bar he stands next to me and I can feel the warmth emanating from his mass. He stands close and puts a hand on my hip. He feels up the side of my body squeezing my love handle briefly and I wonder if he’s turned on by that or not. I think he’s curious what I’m hiding beneath all this black fabric.

We exit the bar and makeout on the sidewalk waiting for the ride share to show up. He tastes sugary like the drinks he was drinking. Our bellies press into one another as we kiss. He’s softer than he looks. I wonder if he even hits the gym anymore, probably not. I slide my hand under his shirt and run my fingers through the patch of hair on his lower back. I think I can feel the dimples between his love handles. I want to grab some of that ass fat but the waist of his denim is too tight to allow my hand through.

Inside the car we struggle to keep our hands off one another. I clearly have a boner. He rests his hand on it, giving it an occasional squeeze. I’m nervous that once we’re naked I’m going to come too fast. Already the precum is soaking through my fly.

We stumble into my apartment and I realize I’ve never seen such a big dude in my tiny unit. We go to the couch where we continue making out and begin removing our clothes. He has a nice chest of hair and big ol’ jugs that wobble a bit as he struggles to remove his underwear. His belly has a nice roundness to it. I expect stretch marks but don’t see any, though they could be hiding under all that fur. I can tell he’s surprised when he sees me naked. I guess I can still hide my chub a bit when I’m clothed.

I can’t help but rub my hands over his belly. I let them sink into his overhang and give a slight squeeze. Obviously I’m rock hard. He seems amused by my admiration and chuckles before reaching around to grab my ass and do the same. He squeezes and jiggles me before giving a hard slap. I look at him with fire in my eyes and I can tell that he’s figured out my little kink.

“We’re a couple of thick boys aren’t we?” he says.

I feel feral and pounce on him. The couch creaks and we nearly tumble to the ground. There’s not enough space for two men of our size on this cheap Wayfair sofa. I lead him to the bedroom where he lies down with a sigh. He seems relieved to be supine. I crawl on top of him, grinding my boner into his plush body. His neck is a soft ring of stubbled fat and I lick it up like ice cream. He moans softly and I move down this chest.

Each pec is like a large furry pillow I sink my face into. I suck on his nipples. I nibble at the gooey fat surrounding them. I stay here for a few minutes before moving south, biting and jiggling his mountainous belly all the way down to his happy trail. This area seems particularly sensitive. My tongue causes him to twitch a bit, sending a ripple effect through his chub.

Eventually I get my face buried beneath his underbelly. It’s warm and musky. A bit sweaty. He’s moaning a lot and I wonder if this is the first time he’s had this area pleasured since putting on weight. He clearly enjoys it. I fit as much fat pad in my mouth as I can manage. I suck up the sweat between his fat pad and thighs. I’m immersed in his musk. His cock is average in size but doesn’t announce itself as valiantly as mine given the heft of his fat pad and thighs. I take it in my mouth and he bellows “oh fuck.”

I work on his shaft a bit. I want to eat him out but his legs are difficult for me to hold up for very long. I don’t think he will even bend back that much. I can probably only access his hole if he’s on his knees and I get the sense he’s too lazy to reposition. I don’t usually bottom but I make a quick executive decision to hop on board. I’m horny enough to get it in at least.

I lube up my ass a bit before lowering myself down. There’s enough chub between the two of us that I can only get so much in. He’s moaning a lot and I’m having to try really hard not to come. My thighs are wrapped around his barrel of an upper body and I grind my cock against his underbelly as I ride him. I can feel myself getting close and I think about bugs and anorexic twinks. Anything to keep me going.

The bed is slamming against the wall. My ass is clapping. We’re both moaning and grunting like crazy. I’m doing all the work but he’s still covered in sweat when he yells that he’s gonna come. I continue to bounce my ass against him until he does. The second I feel his cock sputter inside me I finally let myself orgasm. I’m like a fucking fire hose. Jizz hits the wall with a loud plop and then rains down all over Hugo’s face, chest and belly. He looks surprised by how much I come. Hell, even I’m surprised.

We’re both breathing heavy. I feel like I just ran a marathon or something. I look at the clock. It seemed like we had been at it for hours but it was really just about ten minutes. I grin. I look down at Hugo. He looks soft like a teddy bear and I notice some stretch marks at his armpits. I knew it. You don’t gain that much weight without getting any stretch marks. I think about how the future, the two of us growing fat together, and smile. He smiles too.