Santa Hogs

On November 1st Alan Goodman confidently strode into the Hollyhoop mall and dropped off his application to be the resident mall Santa. This was an annual affair for Alan, who served as the small town’s resident Santa for seven years and counting. He was trusted amongst parents and beloved by children. Most of all, it was a duty that brought meaning and satisfaction to his life.

“Hey there Alan, got some news for ya this year,” said the regional manager. “You’re not the only one who has applied to be Santa. Some new guy in town, Devon somethin’ or other, dropped off an application this morning. You know ‘em?”

“No sir, but do let him down easy for me will you?”

“Can’t say I will, Alan. You see, we received orders from HQ in California. We have to give preference to the fattest candidate as some sort of ‘body positive affirmative action.’ And this Devon he’s got some pounds on ya.”

Alan left the mall feeling betrayed and indignant. At thirty five and 210 pounds Alan himself was no light weight. He figured this Devon must be a real porker and contemplated whether it was worth packing on a few pounds to secure his throne.

That evening Alan made a point to eat as much as possible at the dinner table. His wife, Violet, was pleased to see her husband enjoying the home cooking she had slaved over all afternoon. She piled seconds onto his plate and cut generous slices of pie for dessert, goading her man to eat as much as he wished. And boy did he eat. By the time Alan was finished, his modest belly was swollen and taught beneath his flannel shirt and he had to undo a notch on his belt. It felt good to not hold back for once at the dinner table, to let himself indulge to full capacity. Satisfied and bloated, Alan headed to the local pub leaving Violet to clean up.

As Alan swung back a whiskey he overheard the bartender greet someone named Devon. From across the bar Alan examined his opponent. Devon was a burly guy indeed, but Alan surmised the man only had about 20 pounds on him, tops. Sure, Devon’s belly pushed forward and drooped over his waistband whereas Alan’s had yet to develop the softness of an overhang. But Alan could catch up in due time, at least that’s what he told himself. He figured it wouldn’t be hard to pad his diet with some extra servings. Hell, it would probably be fun. With gusto, Alan moved across the bar and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Devon. What brings you to these parts?”

“Divorced, reckon I need a fresh start. Lookin’ for some employment at the moment.”

“Heard you applied to be the mall Santa. At the risk of being unwelcoming, you should know that’s been my gig for seven years now.”

“I’m just looking to make some money, man. Nothing personal.”

“Oh it’s personal. But I can gain a few pounds if that’s what it takes. Until then, I’ll see you around. May the fattest man win.”

For the next two weeks Alan ate like a king. He ate like his father used to, gobbling everything in sight and always asking for more. As a kid, Alan told himself he’d never become a pig such as his father, yet here he was demanding lavish meals from his adoring wife. Lucky for him, Violet was an excellent cook and poured buckets of butter and lard into everything she made.

After each expansive meal Alan would lean back from the table and unbutton his pants with a sigh of relief. He was packing on the pounds at an incredible speed. His gut was already noticeably more pronounced beneath his shirts and his pants were becoming excruciatingly tight. Even Violet acknowledged the weight gain, saying that a gut lent him a look of maturity. Still, Alan knew he had about another ten pounds to gain if he was to catch up to Devon, twenty if he were to surpass him.

Alan pulled his truck up to the gas station one afternoon after a particularly large lunch. He was enjoying the feeling of extra mass and liked to show off in front of the other guys in town. With shoulders back and the fresh pudge on his torso pressing out from a snug button up, Alan stepped out of the car with gusto. As soon as his feet hit the ground his eyes fell upon a much larger Devon purchasing a bushel of snacks. Alan’s countenance deflated.

Was it possible the drifter had gained weight since Alan last saw him? Alan did not remember him being quite so large. Devon’s shirt wouldn’t even tuck into his pants while his belly rested on the counter surrounded by pork rinds, cheese puffs, and a liter of Coca Cola. Alan reflected on how much he’d been gorging and somehow this fatty was still outdoing him. Alan watched as Devon paid for his snacks and waddled towards his truck, struggling to carry all his goods.

“Hey bub, looks like you’ve been training hard for the Santa role.”

“I guess,” Devon said, “nice to eat as I please without a woman nagging about my gut.”

“Amen,” Alan replied. “Hey, why don’t we grab something to eat at the Chinese buffet? My treat.”

Devon agreed with a sly smile that caused his cheeks and double chin to bulge out like soft dough. The men piled back into their trucks and headed out. It was only a five minute drive from the gas station, but when Devon emerged from the car the bag of pork rinds was already empty. Alan was impressed by the man’s unbridled hunger. Devon brushed the crumbs from his chest and beard as they entered the establishment.

Not to be outdone, Alan piled his plate just as high as Devon’s. As they sat down to eat Alan realized just how fat Devon actually was. The drifter’s belly rested firmly in his lap with a generous slope that led upwards to a flabby chest. Devon’s pecs, probably once dense with muscle, now slouched forward and down the sides of his belly, his nipples pointed against the soft fabric. Alan realized he had to gain at least thirty pounds to even be close to Devon’s weight. Probably fifty if he were to outpace the glutton.

Conversation between the two men was surprisingly engrossing, so much so that Alan lost track of how much he was eating until his plate was empty. Of course, the two stocky competitors went back for a heaping pile of seconds. By the third round of calorie drenched plates they were growing drunk with beer and Alan was struggling to keep up. Even though he was finding camaraderie with Devon, he couldn’t let the man win. It was imperative that Alan expand his stomach and secure his yuletide throne. However, by their fourth plate Alan was absolutely stuffed and having difficulty breathing. When Devon got up for his fifth plate, Alan had no choice but to tap out.

Altogether, the men had a great meal and made plans to get beers later in the week. When Alan returned home Violet had an elaborate dinner prepared. He groaned at the thought of cramming more food into his overstretched stomach. All he wanted was to strip off his constricting pants and take a long nap. Instead, he asked himself what Devon would do. Devon would eat more, that was for certain. Devon wouldn’t stop eating until the table was bare. Alan pulled up a chair.

For the last two weeks of November Alan and Devon began to hang out on a regular basis. They were becoming good friends over beers, food, and more food. Alan was learning how eating big was a lifestyle of laziness and constant gluttony. Devon did very little beyond eat, sleep, and apply for jobs. He didn’t even seem interested in women, which Alan chalked up to the divorce. Altogether, Alan was learning what it’s like to live as a fat guy, and a fat guy he became.

The reigning town Santa must have put on at least twenty pounds in those two short weeks. He could hardly believe it. None of his jeans would zip closed anymore and all his shirts strained at the buttons exposing his white undershirts that were stained with food. His gut was now soft and supple with a slight overhang that wobbled with motion. He could still tuck in his shirts, just barely, which suspended his belly above his waistline like a bag full of gelatin. It jiggled everywhere he went, announcing its uncontainable presence. Alan was even finding it difficult to bend over to lace up his boots as his gut created a formidable barrier at his midsection. He found this small handicap an oddly rewarding milestone towards becoming fat.

Unfortunately, Violet was growing concerned, especially after stretch marks popped up on his love handles. She began incorporating more vegetables into her home cooked meals, but Alan would belligerently demand fattier foods. Regardless of Violet’s cooking, he spent almost every other day having second lunch and dinner with Devon. Usually they would go out to eat and secretly unbutton their jeans at the table. This was another trick that Alan had learned from his gaining mentor. If your pants were already unbuttoned you could fit more in. If they weren’t at the buffet they would order heaps of fast food and take a couple six packs to the lake. In privacy they could burp and grunt and undo their pants without attracting any attention.

All the while, Alan never lost sight of his goal to be mall Santa. He liked Devon, but they were in competition after all. It didn’t help matters that Devon was gaining weight alongside Alan, albeit at a slower pace. Over the course of a couple weeks Devon’s belly began flopping out from underneath most shirts he owned. Devon rarely even noticed, despite the frigid winter air and judgmental glances from townspeople. Strangely, Alan found himself admiring the man’s casual obesity and disregard for social norms. Alan wondered if he would reach that point himself someday. Nevertheless, Alan prayed that even if he couldn’t outgrow Devon that he still might be fat enough to be Santa.

As a last ditch effort a few days before December 1st, the day the mall would choose their Santa, Alan stocked up on weight gain shakes. They were designed for people who struggled to get calories in, but Alan had his own agenda. He sat in the backyard chugging down one after another. Any extra pudge he could grow before December 1st was well worth it. As he belched and squeezed his belly fat amorously, he heard Violet’s car pull into the driveway. Quickly, Alan threw the empty bottles into the trash can and stashed the rest under the barbecue. Still, it was too late.

“What was that?” Violet said and opened up the trash can.

She picked one of the bottles up and read the label. Her face grew red with anger and Alan knew what was coming. He tried to defend himself by saying that he would lose the weight after his stint as Santa, but they both knew this wasn’t true. Violet was furious, poking his gut incredulously and calling him a pig while prattling on about health risks. Frustrated, Alan defiantly grabbed the last case of weight gainer and stomped to his truck. Pulling out of the driveway he left Violet in the dust and called Devon.

The two men had never been to each other’s houses and Alan was surprised to learn that Devon lived in a small mobile home on the outskirts of town. He supposed it made sense, given Devon’s general slovenly state and lack of employment. By the time his truck pulled into the mobile home community, Alan had polished off the weight gainers out of embarrassment. He didn’t want Devon to know he was cheating.

Stepping inside, Devon looked even larger inside of the small trailer. He was in the midst of taking a hamburger macaroni bake out of the oven and replacing it with a frozen pizza, struggling to bend his mass over in the crowded space. The food smelled amazing and Alan was happy he was somewhere warm and accepting. With no dishware, Devon handed Alan a large spoon and the two began eating from opposite corners of the macaroni pan. They cracked beers while Devon consoled Alan.

“My girl was the same way. Always complaining about my weight as though it isn’t completely normal for a guy my age to get a bit stockier. Well, I’m more than stocky now, but back then…”

With the macaroni gone, Devon pulled the pizza out of the oven and cut it in half with a pair of scissors. Each man held up half of the pizza, folded it, and stuffed it into their mouth. Grease leaked onto Alan’s shirt as cheese became entangled in Devon’s beard.

“Back then,” Devon continued, “I was maybe a little paunchy, smaller than you are now-- and she was still complaining. I told her that’s just what happens and that she was no spring chicken herself.”

“I agree,” Alan nodded and washed down some pizza with a swig of beer, “men our age tend to put on a belly. It’s just the cycle of life and honestly it feels pretty good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Devon said with a smile. “You’ve gotten husky hanging around me you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Alan patted his gut with gusto and spread his legs further. “Still not as big as yours though.”

“You look like you’re enjoying it,” Devon said with a devious grin.

“Sure am,” Alan let out a gruff sigh as he finished his last bite of pizza. “Sure fuckin’ am.”

“So how’s it feel having a bona fide gut?” Devon prodded.

“Right now it feels pretty fucking full, my friend,” Alan stretched back with his arms behind his head, allowing a sliver of fleshy underbelly to greet the room.

“Sometimes a belly rub can ease the discomfort. Here, let me show you.”

Devon stood up from his chair and sauntered over to Alan who was leaning on the couch. The trailer creaked and shifted under Devon’s weight as he sat down close to his friend. Cautiously, Devon placed his hand on Alan’s swollen stomach. Alan felt curious about the situation and tried to relax as Devon’s hands began to gently rub Alan’s marshmallowy midsection. To his surprise, the soft pressure of Devon’s large hairy knuckles did ease much of Alan’s discomfort.

“That, uh, that feels great actually,” Alan sighed with relief.

Alan’s muscles relaxed as Devon’s warm hands evolved from a supple caress to kneading his belly like bread dough. As Devon became more rigorous with his motions Alan found himself becoming somewhat aroused. The beer calmed his nerves over this fact as he closed his eyes and gave into his senses. By the time Devon’s hands began to drift southward Alan was completely relaxed. He didn’t even realize he was developing a hard on until Devon’s hands were gripping it through his denim.

Alan gasped when he realized what was happening, “I don’t know if-”

“Shh, it’s okay, we both want this,” Devon grabbed his own manhood through stained sweatpants to prove their arousal was mutual.

“But Violet-”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

With that Devon placed his lips against Alan’s. Resistant at first, Alan completely melted in the man’s arms as Devon’s pheromones encumbered him. They began to make out sloppily, as though they were still gulping down gooey pizza. Their gooey stomachs pressed against one another as their hands gripped at love handles and plump moobs. The couch was far too small for the both of them so they headed to the bedroom where Devon crawled atop Alan.

Devon’s girth completely encompassed his counterpart. Alan’s senses were overwhelmed. He was so used to fucking Violet, to taking charge and being aggressive, that it was exhilarating to surrender control to a bigger man. Devon licked and kissed parts of Alan that had previously brought him shame: his smelly overgrown armpits, his thick fluffy thighs, and of course, the wad of belly fat resting atop his abs.

As Devon propped himself up over his prey, Alan noticed how the bigger man’s fat was subject to the force of gravity. Devon’s chest hung with pointed nipples like a woman’s, swaying with his movements. Meanwhile, his stomach spilled forward and completely filled the space in between them, assuming an even more rounded shape as it hung from his midsection. Devon’s belly was so immense that it was still difficult to glimpse his cock surrounded by so much plump flesh, but Alan could feel it’s pulsating girth nonetheless.

The two made out and devoured each other’s sumptuous bodies for only a few minutes before they were red hot and ready to burst. Devon would occasionally poke his cock against Alan’s ripened ass cheeks. The smaller man was aroused by the sensation of Devon’s hard-on bopping into him, but he was still nervous to bottom for the first time. Sensing this, Devon shoved his massive armpit littered with stretch marks onto Alan’s face without caution. The straight hit of manly pheromones drove Alan mad for cock. He felt as though every synapse in his brain was firing at once and desperately scooted his rump towards Devon. Triumphant, Devon gripped the man’s cakey thighs and aggressively pulled him closer into missionary.

They struggled to situate themselves comfortably as only the head of Devon’s prick entered his counterpart. Repeatedly his dick would slip out as the men’s stomach’s, fattened and stuffed to capacity, kept them at too far a distance. Frustrated and lusting for more, Devon pulled out and flipped Alan onto his stomach, rump high in the air and gaping for cock.

They began to fuck vigorously, their stomachs sloshing with pasta and pizza and beer. The trailer around them rattled with the rhythm of their humping. Devon had incredible stamina for a man his size. He gripped Alan’s bulging love handles with gusto while hammering away at his prostate. Alan’s vision glazed over as he experienced a level of ecstasy he had yet to encounter in life.

Feeling as if he were about to burst, Alan gripped his dick out of desperation and almost immediately began shooting loads of come onto the bed. Seeing this sent Devon into orgasm, who growled and grunted like an angry hog as he pounded his meat into Alan’s chubby ass and filled him with come. Both their bodies quivered with the intensity of the exchange. Even as they settled down to cuddle their muscles involuntarily twitched for several minutes, reverberating outward into the wobbling fat encasing their bodies.

Alan didn’t return home to Violet that evening, but spent the night wrapped in Devon’s big hairy arms. The bed was small but two Santas in training slept perfectly. When Alan finally awoke from a deep and peaceful slumber he looked at his phone and panicked when he saw the time.

“Devon, they’re offering the job in ten minutes! We have to go!”

Devon groaned as Alan lept out of bed. Neither man could find the entirety of their outfit from the night prior so they rolled into the mall looking like a hot mess. Devon was wearing a wife beater that his gut hung out of and a jacket that no longer could zip close. His beard still had cheese matted in it and his hair was a mess. Alan could only find his undershirt which was splattered with come and clung to him like spandex. He wore one of Devon’s jacket’s over it that positively dwarfed him.

“Nice of you both to show up,” the regional manager said. “Alan you’ve had a great run, but we think it’s time to offer the role to someone new. Congratulations, Devon.”

Alan’s heart sank, but he still smiled and congratulated his new lover.

“I have an idea,” Devon said. “Why don’t we split the duties? Is that possible?”

“I think that can work,” replied the regional manager. “Only thing is that you will have to share a suit. We only have one.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Alan looked at Devon with a mischievous grin. “It might be a bit large at first, but I’ll make sure you fill it out in no time.”