The Houseboy: Chapter 7

Of course, Darius booked us a reservation at one of the hippest spots in town and we all came prepared with empty stomachs and appropriately snug outfits. Darius wore his typical uniform of a too-small blazer that exposed his round gut in a tight T-shirt. His tailored jeans hugged his rump and thighs in a casual chic way. Ivan wore one of his better fitting polo shirts, though it was still snug across the middle and rode up ever so slightly in the back when he sat down. I wore a simple button up that fit well, but always grew strained once I started eating.  

Naturally, we feasted to our hearts content and left the restaurant feeling comfortable full but not quite stuffed. Next, we decided to head to a local cocktail bar for some sugary drinks. We were already a bit tipsy by the time we arrived, with Ivan outpacing Darius and I when it came to drinks. I had been impressed with how much Ivan shoveled down at the restaurant, considering my own stomach was sloshing to and fro with every movement. 

I did sense ulterior motives when it came to Ivan’s appetite. I presumed he was bit uncomfortable with the whole situation and probably jealous of mine and Darius’ bond. This was likely leading him to over imbibe as he was guzzling drinks faster than anyone could keep up. He also began softly caressing Darius’ swollen gut in front of everyone at the bar and arching his back so that his juicy rump sagged over the barstool. There was no doubt that Ivan was in need of some attention.

We eventually ordered some appetizers that disappeared quickly and sampled a variety of drinks on the menu. The night was still young when Ivan received a text from a friend inviting him to a house party nearby. We decided to attend as a group and check it out. 

We arrived at the front door and were buzzed in. Darius took the first step inside and muttered “oh jesus” at the sight of steep stairs heading all the way up to the top floor of an old Victorian. This would not be easy for any of us. We trudged up the stairs slowly but surely. A quarter of the way there we were all breathing heavily while trying to ignore how out of shape we were. Half of the way up all three of us broke a sweat and were panting. By the time we finally reached the top we were queasy, looked like a disaster, and were regretting everything. We stood outside the apartment for a couple minutes to catch our breath before the door suddenly swung open to our surprise. 

“There you guys are! We thought you bailed,” slurred a drunken twink. “Come in, come in. There’s liquor in the kitchen!” 

We lumbered inside to greet a house full of tanned twinks and gym bunnies. I had plenty of experience with these types of crowds, and my self-esteem plummeted. We pushed our way through the crowded hall and into the kitchen, all the while partygoers were stealing glances at our sweaty bodies and bulging bellies while whispering to their friends. I was now acutely aware of how much extra space I took up and how much larger I was than the average gay man, and I was the smallest of the three of us. Darius looked like an absolute beast of man next to everyone else. 

“Is this, like, a chubby chaser party?” I heard someone say in the distance. 

Another, motioning to me: “That one looks like it used to be thin until it met the other two.” 

We grabbed some drinks and headed to the living room. The sweating that began in the stairwell continued in the crowded house and accelerated with my discomfort. I was now aware of how my protruding gut created stretch-wrinkles in my shirt and how this contrasted with the size small T-shirts clinging to everyone’s washboard abs. I could see the six packs underneath some of the guys’ skin tight shirts, whereas the only thing you could see through my shirt was fat rolls and sweat stains. 

With each step I could feel my freshly grown fat subtly bounce, communicating to the room I was lazy and gluttonous. I was suddenly feeling so dysmorphic it was as though my belly was a separate entity from myself, like some growth that was attached to my torso. I tried to dispel these thoughts but struggled. It didn’t help that the three of us together made something of a scene. Had I been alone I simply would have been the random chubby friend, but with Darius and Ivan in tow we were unequivocally the fat guys. There was no ignoring our sizable presence in the room. My anxiety began to rise as memories of Andrew came flooding back. 

“Dylan? No way.”

Sure enough, there stood my ex-boyfriend in the flesh. My heart dropped and I sucked in my gut without even thinking about it. It had been months and quite a few pounds since we had seen each other last and this fact felt abundantly clear in my mind. 

“Look who it is,” I muttered with zero enthusiasm.

“You look... jolly,” he said. “How are things?”

“Pretty good, actually. I’m in uh… a relationship that’s, you know, actually loving.”

Andrew scoffed, “Yeah, with one of these?” he asked, gesturing towards Darius and Ivan. “I guess that’s what you always wanted.”

“Excuse you,” Darius said, taking an authoritative step forward so that his gut gently bumped against Andrew as he looked down at the silly twink. 

At that moment I noticed Andrew himself had packed on at least ten or fifteen pounds since I saw him and I felt slightly turned on. His favorite red shirt was definitely snug across the abdomen and there was the slightest bit of fluff on his sides. I wondered what could have happened to make such a body fascist put on that weight. 

“You’re his sadistic ex-boyfriend I presume?” Darius continued. 

“And I’m guessing you’re the new fat one, huh?” Andrew childishly retorted. 

Darius was now fuming and took another aggressive step forward. His muscle gut pushed further into Andrew until he stumbled backwards and tripped onto the living room couch where Darius stood still, large and imposing so that Andrew could not escape. The air was quickly evaporating from the room as people gathered to watch the confrontation, pulling out their phones to take video. 

“I’m the one he left you for,” Darius bellowd. “I’m the one he came to live with when he snuck out of your home in the middle of the night. I’m the one who loves and cherishes him and treats him like a human being, you piece of shit.”

At this point a definite crowd had formed around us and I was growing nervous. 

“Let’s go Darius,” I said. “He’s not worth it.”

I pulled at Darius’ stalwart bicep but he didn’t budge. He simply continued to stare down Andrew with an intense fury. 

“Come on! Fuck him!” I said and finally Darius broke eye contact. 

I ushered my crew of tubby boys toward the door, the three of us beat red and sweating from the intensity of the conversation. I noticed I had somehow lost a button on my shirt during all of this and my belly was slightly exposed. I must’ve looked like such a fat ass in front of everyone, yet I wasn’t feeling nervous anymore. Fuck these bimbos, I told myself, probably half of them will go home and jerk off thinking about us. 

As we neared the door I turned around to say: “You know Andrew, you’re looking really good lately. Those extra fifteen pounds went straight to your love handles and I personally stan a chubby queen.”

The room erupted into a cacophony of “oh snap’s” as we wobbled our overfed asses out the door. 

We struggled to get down the narrow stairway as our bellies eclipsed our vision and hid the stairs from our view. After five minutes of carefully taking one step at a time we made it outside into the cool fresh air. 

“Pizza?” Darius said and we all burst out laughing.