The Hungry Hustler: Chapter 4

“Christ, my feet are killing me,” Ricky huffed as he walked through the front door and plopped down on the couch. “Being on my feet all day is getting difficult with how heavy this gut is getting.”

“Lay down, my love,” Brad responded. “Let me rub those feet and share some exciting news.”

Ricky struggled to shift his hefty body on the couch and swing his aching legs onto his lover. In the past year since Brad and Ricky had been living together the former hustler had grown quite plump to the immense satisfaction of his boyfriend. Ricky now wobbled wherever he went. His body was caked in supple fat that bulged in every direction. The couch sagged beneath his weight as though it was ready to give in at any moment. 

Ricky was now well over two hundred pounds, perhaps even pushing three hundred. The couple didn’t keep scales around the house but there was no denying Ricky’s girth. His prodigious belly hung round and pert above a waistline that had nearly doubled in size. His chest had softened into tits that rested atop his globe-like midsection, oozing sideways until they met his armpits. His belly was firm but supple and now completely eclipsed the swelling fat pad that surrounded his cock. 

Lower down, his furry ass cheeks were two massive spheres of fat criss crossed with stretch marks that continued down rotund thunder thighs. Ricky had the stout lower body to support the mountain of fat that clung to his stomach. He now moved slowly at all times, walking with a heavy plod and waddle. Naturally, his feet received the brunt of his gains. 

Brad had to buy Ricky an entirely new wardrobe, though he kept the jeans and tees from when they first met as souvenirs. Ricky had completely leaned into the gaining life and relished in the absolute gluttony of always chomping on something delicious or guzzling a sugary drink. It was not unusual to catch him walking to work, large frappuccino in hand, struggling to pull down his shirt as it rode up on his fleshy curves. Whenever he had food in hand his face was lit up with pleasure. His buttery cheeks and double chin betrayed his model good looks but glowed with the energy of a well fed and well loved tub of lard. 

Ricky held a series of odd jobs since he got off the streets. For a while he was loading trucks for FedEx, but eventually he got too out of shape for such strenuous employment. He then worked as a barista but was fired once the owner found out he used to be a sex worker. Currently he was bussing tables for a pizza joint, which was hard and boring work but had the perk of free pizza. 

Brad placed Ricky’s callused foot atop his own belly and began to massage it. Brad’s own lithe body had continued to swell alongside Ricky’s, but at a much slower pace. He now was the owner of his own sagging beer gut that increasingly strained the seams of all his shirts. The rest of his body remained fairly thin, but he could no longer disguise the paunch. Coworkers had even begun to poke and prod at his pudge, pointing out that office life even affected the gays. What they didn’t know was that it was love pounds more than anything, for Brad still kept his relationship a secret. 

“So, I know we love it here, but… I’ve been offered a job. A very high paying job.”

“And? Where is it?”

“My hometown. Correlsdale.”

“Correlsdale?! I thought you hated that place?”

“I do, or- I did. I don’t know, I think if you were there it would be different. I could buy a house I’d be making so much. And you could quit working these degrading jobs. You could be my chubby little housewife, with all the food and toys you desire.”

“Degrading jobs? Is that how you see me? I’m just like some street trash for you to fatten up and fuck at night? I feel like the only way for me to get your attention anymore is if I eat a whole pizza and complain about how stuffed I am. Otherwise, I’m already just some housepet or something.”

“It’s not like that, Ricky. I love you for who you are. I don’t care about your past or your job.”

“Oh yeah? Then why have you still not introduced me to your coworkers? I know you keep me a secret because you’re embarrassed.”

“That’s not true. And besides we’d have a clean slate. You could meet my coworkers from day one and they will never have to know you were a hustler.”

“Wow! You really don’t get it. I’m proud of my past. I don’t care if people know I was a hustler. You’re the only one worried about that.”

“Look, you know the type of people I work with. It’s not that I care about it-”

“I’m fucking done!” Ricky exclaimed and struggled to move his foot from Brad’s belly and climb off the couch. 

After an awkward few seconds Ricky stood with a full crescent of belly hanging out of his tee and hoisted up his pants. He stomped to the kitchen, polished off a carton of milk, grabbed a leftover slice of pizza and stormed out of the apartment. Brad watched shocked and befuddled. He whipped out his phone and called Ricky but the call was declined. He tried again, and then a few more times to no avail. 

Periodically for the next few hours Brad would call or text Ricky without a response. This continued all night and Brad was growing increasingly nervous. Finally, at five in the morning Ricky stumbled inside looking disheveled and drunk. 

“Where the fuck where you? I was panicking.”

“I… don’t need you you know,” Ricky slurred and then burped. “I was busy is all.”

Brad didn’t ask anymore more questions, but escorted Ricky to the shower and then to bed. In the morning, after a greasy breakfast and some coffee, Ricky finally revealed what had transpired. Furious, he called one of his old johns and went to his house. Unfortunately, the john was shocked and disgusted by how fat Ricky had gotten and kicked him out. So then Ricky hit up some of his old friends he used to work the corner with. They were also flabbergasted to see how fat he had become. Still, his friends were more welcoming. Ricky bought them all 40s and a few pizzas and they stayed out all night drinking, eating, and sharing stories. Ricky had a great time, but admitted that seeing his friends reminded him of how hard life on the street was. A couple of them had contracted HIV, and some complained of violent encounters with johns. 

“You know,” Ricky said and took a giant bite of a chocolate croissant. “I’ll move to Correlsdale with you.”