The Twelve Gains of Christmas

Something most people don’t know about me is that I’ve always wanted to be a big guy. Like, really big. I want to be the biggest guy in the room. I want people to stare and marvel at my rotundity. I want people to be shocked by how much bigger I’ve gotten every time they see me. I’ve always wanted this, but it wasn’t until recently that I decided to really go for it.

After college I secured a comfortable job and was finally able to afford a gym membership, a trainer, and stay consistent with workouts. Lo and behold, I was a natural. I started in January and by spring people were commenting on my gains. By the end of summer I was looking seriously buff. My trainer was doing a great job and I fully leaned into the lifestyle of a total gym bro.

No one knew, but this was only the beginning. The muscle was simply a base for what was to come. I wanted to get fat. I wanted to be beefy, thick, chunky, a hulk. I did not want to be just another weak lardass with flub hanging off the bone. I wanted to be big, which meant I needed muscle and fat. It was too awkward to tell my trainer this straight out the gate, plus I was worried that overeating fatty foods would detract from initial progress at the gym. So I kept it on the DL at first.

But now, finally, it is winter, and winter is bulking season. Everyone gains weight over the holidays, right? And everyone knows that gym guys like to do a little dirty bulk here and there. That’s normal, it’s to be expected. My motivations won’t be questioned if I suddenly start stacking on the pudge. This will simply be the natural progression of what I already started. Easy. And by the time Christmas rolls around, I’ll also be rolling around.

12 Chicken Drumsticks

Something I learned early on in my gains is that protein is everything. So now that it’s cold out and I’m trying to get fat, I’m still keeping protein central to my diet but I’m layering it with calorie rich additions. I decided to order twelve chicken drumsticks from the deli. I’m having them delivered because it’s cold and I’m lazy. If I’m going to burn any calories at all it will be on building muscle, not walking my ass to the grocery store.

I’ve already whipped up a caloric concoction that will serve as the glaze and dipping and sauce. What no one tells you when you’re first starting at the gym is that dairy is your friend, especially high fat dairy. Non-fat options can fuck off. Fat helps build muscle and, well, fat. So what I’m getting at is this sauce is basically a gainer shake in its own right. It’s rich with heavy cream, butter, peanut butter, and wine, plus all the good spices and herbs.

My apartment smells delicious and my mouth is watering in anticipation of the drumsticks. Sadly, I will still have to cook the chicken so I pour a glass of whole milk and snack on some protein brownies I made. They hit the spot. I watch TikTok while I’m eating because it completely mesmerizes me and I forgot how much I’ve even ingested.

It’s over an hour later before I’m actually eating these twelve chicken drumsticks. Unfortunately, I’m a bit full from the brownies but I suppose that’s the name of the game when it’s bulking season. I smoke a little bit of weed to help the process out. I sit down on my couch in grey sweatpants and a white tee and begin chowing down in front of the TV.

I’m not gonna lie, it’s a lot of food and I’m struggling. Still, I power through, realizing a white T-shirt was not the smartest move especially while stoned. I’m covered in stains and after using up my napkin I resort to just wiping my fingers across my pecs. It feels good and besides, ouching myself is always a good reminder of how far I’ve come and how far I’m going to go.

11 Pounds Get Pounded

I answer the door in grey sweatpants and an UnderArmour shirt to be mega obvious about the fact that I’m bulking. Literally the first thing he does is look at my gut. He seems a little taken aback, but still steps inside by grabbing my waist and shoving his tongue down my throat. I close the door and he goes for a handful of ass. Leaning back, he looks at me quizzically.

“You dirty bulking bro?”

Indeed, my man. I’ve gained eleven pounds in the past two weeks since we first hooked up. Guess it’s noticeable. I don’t say any of this and just cock my head and arch my brow. We continue to make out.

This guy is a bit bigger than me in height and muscle. He shoves me down onto the couch and throws off my sweat pants. He flips me around so that my bare ass is in the air. My shirt is left on top and I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t care to look at the paunch I’ve put on. I don’t give a fuck though, I wiggle my hips a bit so my ass bounces.

“Fuck,” he mutters before spitting on my hole and giving my rump a slap. “It’s good when bottoms dirty bulk,” he jiggles my cheeks under his hands, “you get more ass to play with.”

I’m not a strict bottom but I still take his dick like a champ. Glad to see I’m not the only one enjoying these gains.

10 Lower Body Exercises

That hookup rewired my brain or something because now I’m obsessed with ass gains. I’ve researched every possible exercise to train glutes and legs and today at the gym I did the ten moves that will most assuredly shred my posterior. I was at the gym for an hour and a half which is longer than I normally do. It was murder but I powered through. I just kept the memory of that hookup running through my mind on loop.

That guy was so into my ass that he came in only a few minutes and then afterward he couldn't stop massaging and jiggling my cheeks. I didn’t even realize I had that much of an ass. Sure, I work out my lower body but I had never received this much attention for it. Every day since he has asked for photos which only spurs my desire for growth.

By the time I left the gym I could barely walk. My legs were like jello. Even pushing the pedals on the car to get home was difficult. It didn’t help that I went out of my way to pile some McDonald’s onto the protein shake I had just downed. Then when I got home I made another protein shake. Your boy is not fucking around.

9 Drinks on the Dancefloor

“Hey cutie, your shirt is riding up.”

I turned around to see some muscle bear smiling at me. My vision was a bit blurred as the guy offered me a drink. This was my ninth free drink of the night. It was only a Thursday but I was the queen of this club, getting hit on left and right. Obviously, I accepted the drink.

“Not that I’m complaining,” the bear continued. “You look sexy as hell.”

I smiled and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. I didn’t bother to pull down my shirt. I wore this flimsy striped tee from the back of my closet for a reason. I was up twenty pounds since I started the bulk and I wanted to show off every fresh inch of it. I was celebrating. Strangely enough, everyone at the bar seemed to be celebrating with me. This pudge was attracting dick left and right.

I slurped down the drink while grinding my body against this guy on the dancefloor. He had a belly of his own, bigger than mine, ripe enough to fold into an overhang over the waist of his denim. Our bodies felt good pressed against one another. We were both warm and soft with strong arms and sweaty skin. I licked the salty scruff of his neck and then we made out.

By the time we were pawing at each other's swollen bodies, he uttered the magic words: “Wanna take a pizza back to my place and have some fun?”

8 Gallons of Milk

I felt a little woozy, a little bloated, a little gassy, but I had done it. I drank eight gallons of milk in one week. I laid back on the couch in my grey sweatpants and white wife beater. I placed both hands on the swollen gut gurgling in front of me. It felt like my stomach was churning butter, but it was only trying to digest all this milk.

This was perhaps the hardest week of my bulk thus far. It wasn’t that I struggled with capacity. My stomach is obscenely stretched at this point and a gallon of any liquid is no problem. The problem is all that dairy; my body just isn’t used to it. Since I started GOMAD a week ago, I have been farting and burping non stop. Thank god I live alone because I have no choice but to let them rip day in and day out. I’m so glad it’s over and I hope it has been worth it.

I end up falling asleep on the couch and waking up feeling a little bit better. My stomach is growling and I’m eager to check my weight on the scale. All this milk better have been worth it. I do feel bigger. My belly looks bigger, and my thighs are feeling more padded than normal. It’s hard for me to gauge whether that’s just bloat though.

I take a piss and step on the scale. By God, it paid off. I gained six pounds in one week! That’s a new record for me.

7 Sexy Swimmers

I could barely concentrate at the gym. For the first time my gym clothes are so small that I look ridiculous. My shirt rides up and you can see the full outline of my cock and ass in my shorts. I can barely look in the mirror at myself because I’m afraid I’ll get a boner. I’m becoming noticeably hefty. Like I fucking jiggle when I move. It’s incredible. But it makes me distractingly horny.

That’s why I wasn’t thrilled when another distraction appeared. Seven guys from a college swim team appeared in unison. To say they were hot would be an understatement. I could immediately intuit that their off season was coming to an end and they were here to burn off the very visible chub they had put on in the meantime.

Naturally, I turned off the audio on my airpods so that I could eavesdrop. Unsurprisingly, I was correct. One by one they complained of how out of shape they were, how their stamina had been zapped, how their bellies were getting in the way, how they didn’t know how they were going to burn all this extra weight off before the season began. I was practically drooling.

At one point, one of the guys lifted up his shirt in front of another. He scooped his belly up in both hands and jiggled it. The other guy laughed and then began doing the same to himself. One by one throughout the gym these seven guys lifted their shirts and began slapping and hollering over their beginner bellies. After that, I had no other option but to rush to the bathroom and furiously jerk off.

6 Pairs of Stretch Marks

They appeared seemingly overnight. Three on each of my inner thighs, two on each bicep towards my armpit, and one tiny one on each side of my belly button. Perfect symmerty. I had never had a stretch mark in my life and now these blazing red tiger stripes have appeared out of nowhere. I showered the night before and then boom, this morning they’re itchy as hell and screaming for attention.

I lotion them up and decide to take stock of my gains thus far. I have gained thirty two pounds since beginning this journey and it is obvious, yet simultaneously not obvious enough. My clothes are tight, my appetite is through the roof, my stamina is struggling, yet no one has commented on my weight yet. That means I need to push harder.

It might be because I’m still gaining so much muscle. Most noticeably my arms and pecs are poppin’. I was already fit but now I’m developing into a real hulk, a gorilla. My belly is fatter and sticks out all the time, but I think due to the muscle gains it might just look like a perma-bloat. I need to really layer the fat on so it noticeably hangs and jiggles.

My ass is huge with muscle and fat of course. I definitely see other gay guys check out my rear at the gym, but that’s no surprise. I want the front to be as impressive as the back. At this point they’re probably close to the same circumference, which is fine. But the goal is to be a real pot bellied hog. I guess I need to up the ante to get there.

5 Golden Rings

I wake up in the morning and treat myself to the donut shop down the street. It’s one of the bougie ones with those large cakey donuts and fancy flavors. I get the holiday special of four apple fritter donuts dusted with gold leaf. I wash them down at home with a glass of eggnog.

I have some Christmas shopping to do but before I head out I decide to keep it kinky. I slide a shiny brass cock ring around my junk to keep me excited and pigging out throughout the day. The cock ring creates the slightest impression of a fat pad when I put it on and that drives me crazy. I can’t wait until I have a real gooey roll of fat right there.

Wearing a snug sweater and jeans that make my legs feel like sausages I go about my day. I purchase Christmas gifts for the family and snack on all the mall treats along the way. I’ve taken the day off from the gym, which I’ve been doing too often lately. I tell myself I’m tired but my pig brain knows the truth. I’m balancing out the muscle with fat.

By evening I am getting ready for a wrestling show with my family. I try to dress for the occasion. I wear a gold chain and slide a gold ring onto my finger, or at least I try to. My fingers aren’t even fat but the ring won’t fit. I used to wear this thing all the time and am shocked. Maybe my hands got more muscular? Who knows.

Sitting at the venue, only a few yards from the glittering gold wrestling ring, I finally get the first comment on my physique. It comes from my dad’s friend, a short and chubby former body builder who turned into a complete butterball once he turned fifty. He says, “enjoying the holidays, huh?” and pats my belly. I blush uncontrollably and respond in the positive. He laughs and pats his own belly, “keep an eye on it, that’s all I’ll say.”

After the show I purchase onion rings on the way out. They’re crispy and golden with a cup of ranch on the side. I’m in heaven and I can tell my dad’s friend is jealous. He eyes the food hungrily but my greedy ass doesn’t offer him a single one. He’s got enough blubber anyway, time for me to build some of my own.

4 Dozen Pounds

It’s almost Christmas and I’m tipping the scales at forty eight pounds gained. I really can’t believe it. The past few weeks I’ve just kept my head down and engorged myself, guzzling eggnog protein shakes, consuming 10k calories a day. My gym routine has gone from six days a week to four and the dirty bulk is finally evident.

A generous wad of chub rests on my belly now. It pokes out of all my old shirts if I’m not careful and wobbles as I walk. The heavy warm sensation of this new larger part of my body is exhilarating. I can barely keep my hands off myself. I’m constantly squeezing and massaging my gut, gripping the roll that folds over my pants, and rubbing the curvature. Sometimes I catch myself doing these things in public and am flush with horny embarrassment.

All my old sweaters barely fit now and cling to me like a second skin. They used to drape off my bones and now they betray the fact I’m becoming a fat guy. I’ve gone up several pants sizes as well, no thanks to my ballooning tush in addition to my waistline. It seems like no matter the size and cut that I buy, the denim always clings tight. I think it’s just the nature of my heft. This is what being a beefy guy is like.

Carrying around all this extra weight has been tiring me out. Even with the muscle gains, I’m just not accustomed to hauling around nearly fifty extra pounds. I’m constantly tired, hungry, and horny. I notice myself grunting to stand up or bend over. I really love the fact that tying up some boots is not quite as easy anymore with all this muscle and chub in the way. I even find my belly and ass bumping into things by accident. The weight has come on so fast that I’m not fully cognizant of all the extra space I’m taking up now.

There’s only a couple weeks until Christmas and I’m eager to get on at least five more pounds before then. I originally thought my chub might not be so noticeable to my family given my muscle gains. I’m not so sure of that anymore. And if I’m being honest, I want it to be noticeable. I want it to look like I swallowed my former twink self.

3 Rotisserie Chickens

My smart scale told me that I lost some muscle mass. I made a 2% increase in body fat, but I don’t want that to be at the expense of muscle, I want it to be in addition. I suppose it’s not surprising since I’ve been letting the gym slip lately, so I’ve decided to get back on the wagon in terms of pumping iron. Therefore, I’m challenging myself to do three workouts today and consume an entire rotisserie chicken after each one.

I hit the gym first thing in the morning feeling like an absolute beast in my new workout clothes that are deliberately snug. Most people would probably be doing cardio at my size, but not me. I go straight into back and shoulder exercises. I gotta keep the frame beefed up and wide as a solid base for all the fat I’m going to be stacking on. Pre-work out gets me through an hour of exercise easily and I leave with a large peanut butter protein shake in hand. I pick up my three rotisserie chickens and dig in when I get home. The first one is easy. I consume it in under half an hour.

A little bit later I decide to do my arm workout from home. Lately, this has been the hardest area to see growth. When I first started pumping iron, my biceps grew at an unbelievable rate. Now it’s harder to see that progress. I use my heaviest weights and work out for a bit over an hour. My arms feel wobbly by the end of it. I dive straight into my next rotisserie chicken wasting no time. My hands and arms are still weak and my belly somewhat full so it takes awhile to polish this one off. Nevertheless, I wash it down with half a gallon of whole milk.

It’s evening now and I head back to the gym. My upper body is pumped and it’s time to kill my glutes and legs. I work out for almost two hours, becoming totally entranced by the sight of my bulging body moving in front of the mirror. I’m becoming a real hog. I get home and the smell of the rotisserie chicken is a little nauseating. Still, I’m committed to the bit and inhale all that protein as fast as I can. I can’t think about the bones or the smell because it’s grossing me out. I just have to get it down.

I’m finally finished and step away from the dinner table. I chug milk from the carton and belch triumphantly. I’m sweating from the intensity of that final meal. My sweat feels oily and I reek of chicken. I look in the mirror and grunt as I flex my muscles. My entire physique is bulging and bigger than ever.

2 Tubby Encouragers

“What have I gotten myself into?” I think while gulping down some creamy mystery pastry. I’m tied to my dining room chair. The rope is cutting into my flesh. My gut rests in my lap as two hefty twinks massage it amorously while feeding me god knows what. We’re all naked with raging hard ons.

I found these boys on Grommr and they were eager to fill me up. They’re probably around 22 years old with buttery bellies and butts to call their own. I still outweigh them easily and am clearly significantly stronger. They say they enjoy making bulls like me submit to gluttony and I think that sounds pretty hot too.

My stomach is already so full but I know there is no end in sight. They also keep stroking and sucking on my cock, but never longer than a minute or so. It’s driving me crazy which I guess is the point. The persistent stimulation keeps my mouth open and ready for more so that I can prove what an absolute pig I am. I can’t keep my eyes off their own bodies though. One is plumper with stretch marks near his belly button and the smaller one has a huge uncut cock dangling between chubby thighs.

I want to just demolish both of them with my cock, but I’m at their mercy. And I remain at their mercy for almost an hour longer. My cock is now oozing precum like an overfilled cannoli. My stomach feels like it’s going to burst and my head is foggy with lust. I can no longer take it and I feel something building.

I flex my muscles several times and begin moaning. The boys seem titillated. I continue flexing and extend my arms and legs until the ropes finally snap off and I’m free. I growl as I lurch up from the chair and the fat twinks’ eyes glitter with uncertainty of what’s to come. I grab each one by the arm and march them to the bedroom. They know what to do from there…

1 Massive Belly

My stomach sloshes with food and alcohol as I plop down on the couch after a day of nonstop indulgence. I can barely keep my eyes open. Every last drop of energy in my body is going towards digesting the absolute glut of calories I shoved into my body today. I’m useless at this point, nonfunctional. Unless… unless there’s another treat for me to fit in.

Despite my fatigue, I’m aware of the fact that my sweater is riding up the curve of my gut. I’m too lazy to pull it back down. Why even bother? There’s no hiding this cumbersome body at this point, even when I’m on an empty stomach. I can confirm as much due to all the comments I’ve received since showing up at my parent’s house this morning.

Absolutely no one can believe that the slender fag they have grown to know and love has turned into an eating machine. My dad’s jaw literally dropped when he saw me. Before he even hugged me he grabbed my belly with wide eyes and exclaimed, “This is certainly new!” My mom seemed secretly pleased and kept me well fed all day, delivering snacks and drinks whenever my hands were empty. My siblings and cousins laid in with the fat jokes. One after another, too many to even recount. How foolish was I to believe that a little bit of muscle could conceal my absolute gluttony.

It was actually quite eye opening, as the gains have been so fast I haven’t even adjusted to life as a big guy yet. I barely see myself as such. I mean sure, I’ve outgrown all my clothes and spend most of my days choking down calories, but I guess I haven’t fully reckoned with the pig in the mirror.

Stretching back on the couch I feel great. This is my true form. My arms are too big to rest comfortably at the sides of my bloated midsection. I keep them spread wide along with the tree trunks which are my thighs. I have to open up as much room as possible for the middle of my body, which is quickly becoming a mound of fat.

I gained ten pounds in the last week. The craziest part? How easy it was. It was like I didn’t even have to try. Apparently those early days of the bulk in which I struggled to even drink a large protein shake are a thing of the past. My body has adjusted to this new lifestyle. My belly slowly rises as I breathe. It feels heavy, as though it's holding me down on the couch. It’s like it has a mind of its own now. It wobbles and expands at its own volition.

Thinking about this I start to get horny. I have to fight off an erection since I’m in front of my family. That’s not easy considering I can feel multiple eyes examining my ridiculous mass. I even hear my dad whisper something to the effect of: “He really put on a lot recently. You think it was intentional?”

I guess not only are my gains obvious, but so is my intent. I’m swelling into such a beefy tub of lard at such a rapid pace that the only explanation must be that I want it. Well, I do.