Male WG Story Collection 6

Collection of unfinished chub-related stories...

***
MAKI
***

'Has anyone ever told you that you've got a smile that could light up whole cities?'

Maki barely attempted to fight his smile, practically purring in approval at the compliment. Though he was used to hearing flattering things about his appearance, there was something about Matt's piercing blue eyes and alluringly cool voice that almost made him blush. Almost.

'What do you mean by that?' Maki hummed, willing Matt to continue. He liked being showered with compliments, especially about his looks. With his short, stylish haircut and silky dark eyes Maki was a very beautiful boy.

Matt unfurled his arms to stretch, his basketball uniform riding up to display his toned midsection. Tossing his shock of white hair back, he took a step closer to Maki.

'I'm sure you hear that a lot.' He grinned, reaching out to gently tap Maki's shoulder.

'Do I?' Maki returned nonchalantly.

'So tell me, pretty boy. Do you have a girlfriend?' This seemed like what Matt had been waiting to ask.

Maki gave him a coy smile. 'I mean... Why are you asking?'

'I wanna know what kind of girl a guy like you goes after? Or rather, what kind of girl goes after you?' Matt replied, seemingly intrigued.

Maki laughed again, but didn't answer. 'My smile lights up cities, huh? Where'd you come up with that one?'

'Is that a no to the girlfriend I wonder...?' Matt asked eagerly.

Maki smirked, stepping closer.

'What do you think?'

'Hey!' Leon appeared at Maki's side, shooting a disgusted look a Matt before turning back to the shorter boy. 'Watch out for him. He plays for the other team in more ways than one, if you catch my drift. He bothering you?' Maki glanced at Matt, then Leon, who'd taken him by the shoulder, and shrugged. 'Whatever, second half is about to start. Come back over. Why don't you beat it?' Leon growled, turning back to Matt. 'Leave him alone. He's not interested.'

Maki glanced back at Matt as Leon began to drag him back towards their basketball team. He did not look happy.

'You know what? I hate his kind... Couldn't tear his fucking eyes off of you during the first half. Must make you so uncomfortable, man. Their captain warned me about him; he always goes after guys like you. Next time he comes near you, tell him to get lost.' Leon finished as Maki's other teammates approached.

'Was he trying to pick you up? Creep.'

'Tell him you have a girlfriend, Maki.'

'Tell him you're not like him - you're normal!'

Maki hesitated for a split second, then smiled right back at his teammates.

'Of course.'

---

'Your teammates aren't all that pleasant.'

Maki looked up at the voice - Matt slid onto the bench beside him.

'You could have said something though,' Matt sounded disappointed. 'I'm sure you don't need that jerk to speak for you.'

Maki glanced over at his teammates; they'd been talking amongst themselves, but their attention had been drawn to where he and Matt were sitting. They were studying them carefully. Maki flinched; they didn't look happy. Just as Leon began to walk over:

'Can you stop hitting on me, you creep?!' Maki exclaimed suddenly, standing up. 'Guys like him shouldn't be allowed on sports teams if they can't control themselves.' He laughed awkwardly to Leon.

'Don't flatter yourself!' Matt suddenly snapped. 'I was just being friendly! You're just as nasty as the rest of your teammates.' He growled.

Maki raised an eyebrow.

'Go back over to the guys, Maki. I'll meet you in a sec.' Leon ordered.

Walking just slowly enough to hear the resulting shouting match between Matt and Leon, Maki pushed any worrying thoughts out of his head away with a smirk. Matt was hot, but he was nowhere near good enough to ruin his golden boy reputation.

Besides, it wasn't like he was ever going to see him again.

---

'Makoto? Can I come in?' A tap on his door announced Madoka's presence just before his sister slipped into his room.

'Do - do I look okay?' Makoto asked hesitantly. He tugged anxiously at the edge of his shirt, the dark material not doing much to slim his immense stomach. Makoto's belly was so big it folded over itself, hanging down low over his waist in a massive apron of fat. He'd managed to button his pair of dark denim jeans over his lower belly, but frowned at the checked shirt he held in his plump hands.

'You look fine.' Madoka smiled. 'You need some help?'

Makoto nodded graciously, as his sister helped him jam his massively fat arms through the short sleeves of the checked shirt.

'You sure you don't just want to wear the sweatpants? Those jeans look a little tight.' Madoka asked, fidgeting with the button on her brother's jeans. His belly really was massively huge.

'I just don't think they look great... Well, I know I don't look great no matter what, but-'

'Hey, stop that! You've got a crazy cute face! And don't you dare deny that; we're twins after all,' Madoka beamed, bringing out a rare smile from Makoto. 'You've got a great smile, Makoto.'

'Are you flattering me or you?' Makoto teased.

'Sit down and let me help you with your shoe laces. You're wearing those new sneakers today, right?' Madoka gently coaxed her brother onto his bed, his enormous rear spreading out beneath him. His belly folded in two on top of his lap,  an overwhelming mass of blubber.

'This is kind of humiliating... that you have to help me with this sort of thing...' Makoto mumbled.

'I don't mind,' Madoka straightened up having finished tying the shoelaces, running her fingers through her brother's dark ponytail. 'You're wearing it up today, huh? I really like it! I think it really suits you like that.'

Makoto's smile gradually slid off his face.

'Are you sure... you're ready to go back to school?' Madoka asked tentatively.

Her brother began to struggle to his feet, panting a little bit at the effort of heaving his enormous body, and she held out her arms to help him steady himself.

'I have to go back...' Makoto said quietly. 'I'm ready for whatever they'll say...'

---

Makoto Kiyama weighed just over five hundred pounds, and became short of breath if he waddled for longer than a few minutes. His huge calves sprouted into mammoth thighs, which brushed aggressively against each other when he waddled and quickly wore out the inner thighs of his jeans. His rear jutted out behind him, bouncing with every step - though were it not for his jeans it would sag heavily - and his arms were so ladden down with fat that it was a battle every morning to hold them up long enough to tie his longish dark hair back in a ponytail. But it was his enormously fat belly that provided the greatest hardship for Makoto. He felt like a gelatinous mound of pudding, a mountain of fat - his belly sagged down heavily, practically pining him to his bed when he slept.

Yet despite his enormous size, he found people generally acted as if he weren't even there. He guessed he was past the point of even being teased about his size - he was so enormously, morbidly fat that all people could do was feel sorry for him. At least, that was how Makoto felt. In a way, he was a little bit relieved to be ignored. The rare times he was brave enough to accompany his sister to the mall - since they moved to a new neighborhood, Madoka was eager to get to know the local area and encouraged her reclusive brother to join her - he was grateful for receiving practically zero attention. A glance for a few seconds too long in his direction, then abruptly turning away - that's what Makoto had become accustomed to.

~

'You can sit here if you want.' The lilac-haired boy said kindly, offering Makoto a smile.

He's got such a sweet face, Makoto found himself thinking.

'I'm Ryuu, by the way.'

'Ma-' Makoto stammered. 'Makoto. But you can call me-' He was caught off-guard suddenly by the tall blue-eyed boy with the shock of white hair that had just walked into the classroom.

I thought.... that I'd never seen him again...

There was no mistaking it. Matt scanned the room, eyes landing momentarily on Makoto. His eyes widened - Makoto was used to this kind of reaction at his sheer size - then he pointedly looked away.

'He doesn't recognize me. Thank goodness.' Makoto thought sadly, then turned back to Ryuu. 'Maki. My friends call me Maki.' He smiled gently...

***
SASHA
***

When Sasha first nervously padded through the door of my Mom's foster home, you could tell from his cold, blue eyes that he'd seen horrible things in his mere fifteen years. For the first few weeks, he shut himself away in his room and barely spoke to the point we were convinced he was some kind of mute. We knew he'd lost his previous foster mother to a sudden fire, but we didn't know much about his past beyond that.

Yet despite this boy's icy demeanor, when it came down to it, he couldn't have been treated that badly by his previous foster parents. After all, he was fat. Very fat. He wasn't all that tall, but I would guess he was well into three hundred pound territory with that big, hanging gut and huge, plump thighs. Despite his bulk, Sasha had the face of a porcelain doll and I guess that's what drew me to him. I don't normally get too attached to the kids at the Home, but Sasha was different. He was always reading, always buried in some thick novel, blue eyes darting furiously across each page. He'd become so focused on his books that he'd startle easily at any sudden noises, like a little animal. It was kinda cute. His taste in novels was pretty mature for his age too.

'Foucault's Pendulum?' I catch him on the way to his room one afternoon after school, completely absorbed in his latest book. My room was a few doors down from his, but the wifi was quickest nearer the staircase opposite his room, so I spend a lot of time sitting there watching YouTube videos.

He nods briefly, looking a little surprised at being addressed. Like I said, I don't normally make much of an effort to talk to these kids.

'That's complicated stuff. I can barely keep up with it now. You like thrillers?'

He nods again, fidgeting with one of the pages. 'You've... read it?' He asks in a barely audible whisper and I realize this is the first time I've heard him speak.

'Assigned reading. Went way over my head.' I smirk.

'I like it...' He admits with a shy smile. He lowers the book and hugs it protectively to his big belly. He's got a trace of an accent; Russian, like his heritage.

'Ever read a book you don't like?' I ask, curious. This fat little bookworm seemed like he was easily enchanted by the power of a decent story.

'A few, but... I normally stop reading early if I don't think a book is that good.'

'How can you tell if a book isn't going to be good?'

'If there are early inconsistencies, or plot holes or... Or unnecessary information. That kind of thing,'  His accent is so faint you really have to focus to hear it but my God, it's adorable. He's adorable. With skin as white as snow, those round cheeks and those golden curls and soft, fluffy ponytail, he really does look quite angelic. 'Most important is it has to be engaging.'

'What makes a book engaging is different for everyone. Most of those literary classics go right over my head, but they're still considered golden. I just don't see it. Does that mean only some of us are born with such refined literary tastes?' I wonder.

He gives me a gentle smile. 'Maybe...'

I tap his plump leg and motion for him to sit down beside me. He blinks, then hesitantly complies.

'You always like reading?' I ask, studying him. He looks younger than his age.

He nods. 'Always. If I fill my head with stories and novels, I don't have to think so much about the real world...' He says quietly.

'You were pretty screwed over, huh.'

He looks at me, blue eyes wide. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean... Life hasn't been that fair to you, Sasha. Life hasn't been that fair to most of the kids here.'

'Well...' He frowns, thinking. 'I've lost a lot of people...'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry,' He shakes his head. 'While they were there, they took great care of me. People always take care of me.' His blue eyes begin to drift off.

'We'll take care of you here too, kid.' I smile and pat him on the back. He's crazy soft.

'You shouldn't get too close to me,' He says darkly, then huffs as he struggles to his feet. For someone so short, he is VERY fat. 'Bad things happen to anyone who gets close to me...' I hear him mumble as he turns to go back to his room. 'Wolf's not your real name, is it?'

'It's what everyone calls me.'

I catch him smile. 'That's a dumb name...'

---

All of the kids at his Home are free to help themselves to snacks from the kitchen as long as they write down what they've taken. I check the list with an amused smile. Sasha writes his name down numerous times a day. And he normally takes second helpings during the set meal times too. Not that Mom minds. She thinks it's healthy he has such a good appetite. I think she likes the idea of food being a source of comfort to him. That said, I'm a little worried by just how much she's letting him eat.

'Don't you think you're over-doing it? He's well over three-hundred pounds.'

'He's big but he's healthy. Trust me, sweetie; one of the most important instructions I was given was to keep him well fed. He's had a rough life, though he doesn't talk about it a lot. He's lost a lot of people.'

'So I've heard.'

'I'm just glad he's opening up a bit more.' She confides in me while I help her prepare dinner. Sasha's still not participating in the game nights she arranges for the rest of the kids or making much of an effort to talk anyone, but he'll occasionally indulge me in a brief chat about whatever book he's reading. He's got a cute smile.

'He's very shy, poor thing...' Mom continues.

'I don't think he's shy. Just distant.'

'A bit like you then.'

'No, I just think I'm better than everyone else.'

'That's a terrible attitude,' She laughs.  'Keep talking to him. I wish he wouldn't distance himself so much...
He has a lovely smile. I'd like to see it more often.'

I'd like to see it more often too. There's something utterly captivating about it.

'Sasha...! Did you finish reading the Venetian Betrayal?' I ask him from my usual place as he trudges up the stairs, school bag slung over his shoulder.

Panting a little, he nods. 'Reminded me of the... Da Vinci Code...' He stops to catch his breath.

'Did you get those cheeseburgers at the place I recommended?' I ask, slyly tapping his belly and watching it wobble for a few seconds before he fixes his sweater by pulling it down further.

'They were really good,' He was wearing his blonde waves loose; his hair long enough to skim his shoulder blades, but as we speak he begins to tie it back in that familiar short ponytail.

'I'm thinking of driving over to the Glades tomorrow night, if you're interested. They have a new bar specializing in French fries. Interested?'

His eyes widen; it's the first time I've offered something like this.

'My treat. Come on, I know you can't turn down French fries...'

'I can't turn down any food...' He smiles sheepishly. 'Okay, I'd like to come if it's okay with you.'

I always thought of his 'bad things happen to anyone who gets close to me' as an dramatic but empty threat by a fifteen year old who's been wronged by the world one too many times. But he seems eager to come with me, even if it is just due to the promise of food.

---

'You always been that big?' I ask once we start driving, having wanted to know for a while. 'Because you have the face of a doll. Maybe it's just as well you're not skinny; you'd have a lot of power over people.'

'Shut uppp...' He mumbles, turning away from me. 'I've always been big. My parents made me eat a lot when I was younger and I guess I never grew out of the habit...'

The first time he's mentioned his parents.

'Made you?'

'They liked to see me eat a lot, more than I should have. That's why I eat too much now. I like how food tastes, and I like eating until I'm full, which takes a long time... I like feeling full...' He admits, frowning at the mass of belly resting on his lap. 'That's why I have to deal with this,' He pats his belly, then his fat thighs. 'And these.'

This is the most I've ever heard him speak. Then, he has opened up to me a lot more recently.

'And my butt is huuuuge. Way bigger than normal guys...' There's something adorably innocent about the way he talks about his size. At the end of the day, he's just a sweet kid, very self-conscious about his weight.

I glance over at him. He's styled his blonde curls into his usual high ponytail, his skin as soft and white as cream. He's really going to be lovely looking when he's older. Hell, I don't think I mind the weight. He wears it well. In a few years, there's going to be something almost seductive about his extreme curves, that heavy roundness of his butt.

'You ever think about losing weight?' I ask without thinking but he suddenly becomes silent.

'My parents told me I shouldn't try to lose weight.' He says quietly.

'What? Really? I mean... I get that you want to honor their wishes, but... That's a little extreme, don't you think?'

'Bad things happen when I don't listen to what my parents told me!' He snaps suddenly. 'Now they're gone... And my Momma's gone too...'

His 'Momma' was his most recent foster mother, for the past three years he's spent in America, a distant relative of his late parents.

We drive in silence for the rest of the journey, but he's certainly made me think. His parents used to basically forcefeed him, and wouldn't let him lose weight? Not to mention that rehashed spiel about people taking care of him... Something tells me there's more going on here than he's letting me know...

---

He ran away that night...

***
MOO
***

About a hundred pounds ago walking became a chore and now it's practically a joke. My thighs are so hugely wide they push heavily against each other, my mountain of butt swaying behind me and preventing me from ever picking up a decent pace. I can walk at a brisk waddle at most, but even that tires me out pretty fast. My huge, overhanging gut quickly gets tiring to lug around. When you're this short, you really feel the extra weight. I press forward, tugging my dark, winter jacket across my big belly as my huge legs rub together with each step. I think I'm a bit of a spectacle when I'm waddling, being so short and so fat at the same time. I hug my chest with my fat arms; even all of this extra blubber can't stop me from shivering during cold winter afternoons as I make my way to my favorite chocolate bar.

Solero, the barista, recognizes me immediately. 'Well, if it isn't my favorite little fatty cow.'

'Can you not...?' I ask him with a sigh.

'Moo, if you get any fatter you'll have trouble fitting through doorways.'

'Shut up.'

'Do you want to weigh as much as an actual cow or something?'

'Shut up, shut up...!'

'Sorry, sorry! I'm just kidding with you, tubby. What'll it be this time?'

I study the menu then decide on the melting heart chocolate cake, milk chocolate fondue with strawberries and brownie bits and a large mug of steaming hot chocolate with extra cream. What? I'm already huge, at this point it doesn't matter.

'You know, you would be super cute if you were smaller. Have you ever thought about losing weight?' Solero asks me honestly as I collect my order.

'I don't want to talk about it...'

'I mean it, Moo! You're a pretty little thing! But you're way too chubby to take seriously. If you lost weight, you'd be the cutest little thing.'

I shake my head. 'No way. See you, Solo.'

I waddle towards an empty booth, careful not to bump into any tables with my big butt on the way.

Solo's wrong. I don't need to change. I already have the most beautiful man in the world attracted to me; and what's more is he's paying to spend time with me.

Rain's visited twice since the first appointment, and each time he brings me a gift; a new watch or a bouquet of roses. I think he's pretty well off because his presents are pretty classy. We haven't met outside of the club; mostly because I'm too afraid to suggest it. But I don't doubt that he likes me a lot.

I like him a lot too. Rain... I absentmindedly doodle his name in the corner of my notes as I sip my hot chocolate. To be honest, I get distracted pretty easily when I try to study...

***
Callen x Nao
***

Callen's touch felt cool, smooth, against the taunt dome of Nao's swollen stomach. His hands glided over its immense surface, gently massaging his boyfriend's gelatinous mound of belly.
Nao exhaled deeply, Callen's touch almost soothing enough to erase the discomfort of having stuffed himself to bursting point. Then, Nao hasn't finished eating until he felt like he was about to explode.

'You wanna keep going, little pig?'

Nao shook his head, breathing heavily. 'Give me a few...' He shut his eyes, wincing as he attempted to sit back. Nao's belly, resting heavily atop his fat knees, pinned him against the sofa, a mountain of fat between him and Callen. His pillow-like plump arms flopped weakly by his side, too heavy to rub his massive gut - that honor belonged to his boyfriend. Nao tentatively opened one eye to watch as Callen leaned forward in order to run his tongue across Nao's exposed stomach.

'Keep going...' Nao mumbled, closing his eyes and sighing. Anyway, it was Callen's fault he'd eaten so much. Callen had intentionally ordered this surplus of food. Not even a glutton like Nao could eat that much pizza in one sitting! And yet... As Nao weakly looked over at the half-eaten extra large pizza lying in the eighth (ninth?) cardboard box, he knew he didn't have the willpower to leave leftovers.

Nao brushed a pudgy hand through Callen's tawny brown hair, letting it rest there, as his boyfriend continued to push his face against Nao's belly, rapidly flicking his tongue. Nao's lips parted to release a silent moan, his breathing quickening.

'Callen...' he breathed. 'Kiss me.'

Callen resurfaced, wearing a smile that at that moment let Nao know he was the only person in the world to Callen. As Callen leaned in, Nao gently butted his head against his chest, squeaking as Callen's arms wrapped tightly around his big sides.

'You smell really good...' Nao said softly.

Callen ran a hand through Nao's thick fringe, brushing it out of his face and beginning to trace the curve of his eye, causing him to blink rapidly. Nao tilted his head upwards for Callen to pull him into a deep kiss, which lasted several minutes.

Once they re-surfaced, Callen was breathing just as heavily as Nao. He lay back, gently rubbing Nao's big, soft thigh as he reached for a slice of pizza and took a bite. He then offered the slice to Nao, who shook his head.

'I'm gonna burst...!'

'I think that's the most you've ever eaten in one sitting.'

'God, I feel like a fucking hippo...'

Callen stood up, towering over Nao. 'You want a drink?'

'No... I just wanna sleep. Where are you going?' He called weakly after Callen.

'Getting a drink!' Came Callen's reply. Nao closed his eyes, yawning drowsily, and waited for his boyfriend to return. He wasn't going to be moving any time soon.

---

'I fell asleep... Callen?' Nao looked around; he was still in Callen's bedroom but his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Something wasn't right. He still felt bloated, even though the light seeping in under the curtains told him it was morning, and his mammoth feast had been hours ago.

Nao attempted to sit up, but an enormous weight on his chest pinned him heavily to the bed. Taking a deep breath, Nao continued to attempt to heave himself into sitting position and after much huffing and panting, finally managed to push himself against the headboard. Feeling as if he'd just run a marathon, Nao looked down at his body in shock. He'd practically tripled in size overnight!

His neck had become buried in his enormous, cow-like chest, which rested on top of a belly that took up almost all of Callen's king-size bed...

***
Reader x Plump Bishounen
***

Note - This was originally written with a female reader insert in mind, but I tried to keep it more gender neutral. Please use whatever gender you'd like!

---

Have you ever had a crush on a fat boy?

I have. And let me tell you, it's a thousand times harder than having a crush on a thin guy! Some guys can be oblivious enough as it is, but with fat guys no matter how obviously you show you're interested, they'll never believe you're actually flirting with them.

My boy's name is Haru, and he's a real dreamboat. Silky hair, long eyelashes, high cheekbones - could totally pass for a model, give or take about three-hundred pounds. His gut's big enough to hang well past his waist, gently straining against his shirts, and his booty-shelf has plenty of space for me to rest my arm. My boy's got hips that brush against tables; but his king-sized belly is what makes my heart beat. Gym class is a real treat; watching that mound of boy wobble like jelly - though he's snapped at me to stop staring more than once.

The best and worst thing about a guy as big as Haru is that he has absolutely no idea just how mind-numbingly GORGEOUS he is! No matter how many times a day I tell him. How frustrating!

Can you begin to imagine yourself in that kind of situation...?

---

'You're wearing your hair back!' You exclaim, a little too energetically for his liking. He's panting a little, somewhat out of breath from the not so long walk from his locker to the classroom, though he tries not to let it show. He's always been a little embarrassed by his poor physical condition. You excuse it in your head - such a big fatty can't help getting out of breath so easily! And with hair as stylish as that, who cares?

'Did you style it like that just for me? I love when you tie it back in a ponytail!'

'Cut it out! You seriously think I did this just for you?' Haru bats your hand away with a sigh as he stuffs his oversized booty into his seat, lifting his big arms up to fix his ponytail. 'How do you have so much energy in the morning...?'

'I'm just excited to see you, tubby,' You grin, resting your head on your palm. 'Is that a new sweater?'

'...You noticed.'

'Of course I noticed! It looks really great, really soft,' This time he lets you give the sleeve of his dark sweater a token pat. 'Shame you don't wear that leather jacket anymore, that looked really great on you.'

He winces, and sighs again. 'That stopped fitting a while ago...'

'Did you gain weight?' You ask, not bothering to hide your grin.

'What kind of a stupid question is that?' He snaps, looking annoyed. 'Obviously I gained weight!'

'You should stay this size for now - that sweater looks really good. It'd be a shame if you got too wide for it so quickly.'

'I don't gain weight on purpose!' Haru argues.

'Still, even if you did get bigger, I'm sure you'd still find something stylish to wear...' You smile. He blushes, quickly looking away.

You spend the morning admiring the way the gentle slope of Haru's belly falls into his lap in a huge mound, brushing against the edge of the desk. When he moves suddenly, or leans over, it jiggles abruptly.

'Stop. Staring!' He hisses, narrowing his dark, almond-shaped eyes at you.

'What's wrong with me looking in this general direction? It's not my fault you take up a lot of space!' You laugh quietly, provoking a tchh! of exasperation from Haru.

When class ends he huffs as he heaves himself to his feet, his belly drooping down to just above his knees. His hips and butt have his jeans stretched to their limit - he has a very bottom heavy figure, and you're convinced he wears clothes aimed at girls to contain all of his curves.

'See you later, Haru!' You tap his soft shoulder before heading for your next class.

---

Today is one of those wonderful days - gym days, where you can truly appreciate Haru's magnificent curves in all of their wobbling glory.

His uniform does very little to hide the shape of his pear-shaped silhouette. Though he's pulled his sweatpants firmly over his giant hanging gut, it still strains obviously against the material. He's jammed his fat arms through a t-shirt that does little to flatter the size of his chest.

'He's so big~!'

'Haru is so chubby...'

'His belly is so big~! He should wear a bigger uniform~!'

He's big enough to attract comments from onlookers, and there's something a little bit satisfying about that. Haru is the type of guy who would be more likely to be stubbornly angry about comments about his size, instead of getting upset...

***
JET
***

'Quit staring.'

Jace blinked, realizing he had been staring, and caught off guard when Jet called him out.

'Can't help it. You take up a lot of space.' Jace fired back a second later.

'Shut up.' Jet growled, folding his plump arms and turning away with a huff. Jace wasn't wrong. What Jet lacked in height he made up for in width.

A tight-fitting black t-shirt clung to every curve of his wobbly belly, which spilled over his waistband and jiggled at sudden movements.
He'd packed his big booty and hefty thighs into a pair of dark denim jeans, with seams that threatened to split at any given second. This boy was so bottom heavy it was a wonder his jeans managed to hold all of that extra chub in place. But he wore his curves well, and there was something deliciously seductive about drinking in the curves of his big 'ol booty.

'Ya-ho!' As always, Yuka liked to announce her presence enthusiastically, hoops earrings bouncing as she slid open the classroom door and skipped inside. Mika followed her like a shyer, more soft-spoken shadow. She wore her rose-pink hair in a ponytail today, any loose strands pinned back with silver hair clips.

'Team survey!' Yuka smiled, pulling out the chair at the head of the table as Mika slid into the one beside Jet. 'Seriously, could you guys look a little less enthusiastic?'

Jace gave a sarcastic thumbs up, which Yuka swatted away with a sigh. 'Okay, okay. Let's just get started then.' She took out a pen and paper, marking the time and date, followed by QUESTIONS, which she circled, then glanced up expectantly. 'Well, what do we wanna ask?'

'...Umm... N-name?' Mika offered after a few seconds of silence.

'Mika, you're adorable. Thank you for actually answering me. Anonymous survey.' Yuka sighed.

'What's the point of surveying if everyone's anonymous?' Jet asked, frowning.

'I mean. It's more like, names aren't important. Stuff like age, gender, nationality is what we wanna focus on.' Yuka explained, writing down each word as she spoke. 'Anything else?'

'I think you're doing a great job by yourself to be honest.' Jace drawled, smirking.

Yuka sighed again. Jace looked bored as hell, and Jet had started playing with Mika's ponytail, who appeared to be thinking.

'Y'all may not help me make the survey but you sure as hell are gonna help me carry it out.' Yuka hummed.

'Okay, I'll help,' Jet leaned forward, resting his plump elbows on the desk. His sleeves were short, allowing a bird's eye view of his fat, pale upper arms. 'Have they been to the festival before? How'd they hear about it? Then a section with all the facilities and marking them from 1-10.'

'Yes, yes, yes!' Yuka grinned, making note of everything.

'You have a knack for this, fat boy.' Jace laughed softly. Mika suddenly turned pale, just as Jet's expression darkened and he snapped quite viciously: 'DON'T. CALL. ME. FAT!'

Jace, taken back, whistled. 'Calm down, I was kidding.'

Jet glared at him, then buried his head in his plump arms.

Yuka, struggling to contain her laughter, raised her eyebrows at Jace.

'Don't bug him. He hates when people call him fat.'

'Wow...' Jace shook his head. 'You're touchy.'

'He didn't mean it...' Mika said gently, as she stroked Jet's dark hair in an effort to soothe him.

'Sure I meant it. That boy's packing enough booty to have his own postal code! Surely you being called fat is a pretty regular thing?'

Jet raised his head a fraction to glare at Jace.

'Shut up.'

'No. You're fat as fuck, and I'm not gonna sugar-coat it.'

Jet stood up suddenly, his belly wobbling and booty swaying as he stormed out of the room in an angry waddle.

'God, I wish you'd left instead of him. At least he helped with the survey questions.' Yuka glared at Jace, as Mika stood up slowly.

'Can I make sure he's okay?' She asked quietly, Yuka patting her arm and nodding.

---

'He's not wrong... I am fat as fuck.' Jet sighed, frowning at the bottom-heavy boy that stared back at him in the mirror. His heavy gut spilled over his pants, too big to stuff into jeans anymore and his hips constantly brushed against desks, chairs, doorways...

The only part of him that wasn't sufficiently padded, was his face. From the neck up, Jet was a very pretty looking boy. As for everything else... Jet sighed, waddling away from the mirror and back into the hallway.

'Jet! Umm... Are you...?' Mika had found him, anxiously rubbing her arms. He reached out to pat her elbow, expression softening.

'Why do you care about me so much?'

'Because I like you...' Mika blushed, looking down.

Jet smiled. 'I like you too, Mika. Do me a favour and slap that idiot Jace for me, will you?' He grabbed Mika's arm and led her back to the classroom where they were holding their meeting, not catching the tiny sigh as Mika exhaled.

'I mean I like like you, Jet...' She confessed in a small voice inside her head.

---

'I'm not fat. I've never been fat,' Jet lay back, talking to the ceiling. His t-shirt began to ride up, exposing his pale, wobbly stomach, and he slowly pulled it back down. 'I just woke up like this a few days ago... I sound crazy, huh?'

Mika was distracted by Jet's collection of novels and manga. It was her first time in his room and she was eager to see what kind of things he collected.

'Mika, do you believe me?'

Mika blinked, then nodded quickly. 'Y-yeah, of course!'

Jet closed his eyes. 'Or are you just saying that...'

Mika walked over to a large canvas emblazoned with a painting of a silver wolf howling at the night sky.

'Did you draw this?' She asked breathlessly.

'Oh, yeah. I like art. Anyway, you can sit down if you want.' Jet struggled to pull himself into sitting position, huffing at the movement. 'You want a snack or something?'

'Those jeans look a little tight...' Mika said softly, then put a hand over her mouth as she realized she'd spoken out loud. This time, Jet didn't overreact.

'They are tight, but they're the biggest pair I have. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find jeans that fit a butt this big?' Jet asked incredulously.

'Maybe you should wear sweatpants.' Mika smiled, pulling over a stool.

'And look like even more of a slob? No way,' Jet huffed. 'I'm not fat.' He insisted again, provoking a giggle from Mika.

'I'm sorry...!'

'You said you believed me!'

'I do...'

---

'Great. Now I know I'm definitely going crazy.'

Jet shut his eyes tightly, then opened them again.

'Crazy. Definitely crazy.'

From the waist up, Blake appeared to be a completely normal guy, with warm brown eyes and hair a little on the messy side. From the waist down, however...

'What kind of name is Blake for a centaur anyway?'

Blake laughed softly, folding his arms. 'What, I can't have a normal name? Honestly, I think being called something more exotic wouldn't really work in my favor... Anyway. I guess you can see past the glamour then. I was told the only people who can see what I really look like have some kind of magic themselves. So, what about you? Are you some kind of siren then, with that pretty face?'

Blake's voice was warm, and despite his unusual appearance, Jet felt calmed by his presence.

'I'm a little fat to be a siren, don't you think...?' About a month had passed since Jet had woken up in this big body, and he was gradually getting used to accepting himself for what he was. 'And... What do you mean by glamour and magic and all that? So I'm the only one who can see you?' He glanced around - certainly, no passer-by stopped to give Blake a second look.

'Nope. I'm just a regular guy to them. Well, my height is probably a little unusual.'

I'll say, thought Jet. For the entirety of their conversation he'd had to crane his neck up to meet Blake's eyes. This guy was crazy tall, probably something to do with his lower half being a horse.

'Not a siren... How about a sorcerer then? Sorcerers can be pretty chubby.'

'I'm nothing. I mean, nothing magical. I'm normal,' Jet frowned, wondering if he should mention the whole waking-up-fat thing. Maybe not.

'There's something magical about you, Jet, and if you won't tell me I'll stick with you until I figure it out.' Blake said defiantly...

***
The Day I Became Fat
***

Well - first of all - I didn't exactly become this huge overnight. The entire process must have taken longer than a month, maybe two... After the first week, I began to lose track of days, giving in and begrudgingly accepting my fate as a future fatty.

I can't begin to tell you how alien it is to look down and find a soft, overhanging gut when my lower abdomen used to be completely flat. But this new... Belly, I guess - I have a belly now... This belly, it shivers at the slightest movement; all I have to do is brush a hand over its surface and it shakes. Goddamn gelatinous mound.  I lower myself into my bed and watch as the paunch of fat gathers over my thighs. They're not exactly small... And they chafe together now when I walk. For a guy, they're pretty freaking plump.

How much was this again? Just shy of three hundred pounds? It feels like more. I'm pretty tall, but my frame is slight, and this much extra weight is becoming a burden; I'm having more and more difficulty each day finding my balance.

I cup my underbelly in one hand, allowing the pudge to pour over the edge. It's so overwhelmingly soft... The pads of my fingertips aren't met by even the slightest resistance when I push in. Fat is soft. Crazy soft. Like, I had no idea. This belly feels like a mound of pudding.

Of course, it's heavy. And I definitely feel the resistance when I'm lying on my back and lean forward to struggle up; my new belly fights against me; attempting to pin me back...

Curious, I carefully gather my belly in both hands and let it slide onto the scales. Thirty pounds... I guess I expected more. Still, it is kind of bizarre that this mound of fat, this overhanging apron of gut, is a full thirty pounds and I have to carry around all of it in front of me, around my waist.

Actually, it's probably just as well these thighs and this butt are so huge; at least the weight is evenly distributed. I wouldn't like to carry around a thirty-pound belly without having something to balance it out. On the downside, I'm really starting to feel this extra weight when I walk, especially in my lower body. Is this what it feels like to be a fat person? I guess... I am a fat person now...

I tug on my jeans, just barely able to squeeze my huge thighs and big butt into them. I can feel every inch of my lower body press tensely against the denim, squeezed tightly. There is no way I'm gonna be able to pull it closed over my hanging gut.

I try buttoning it underneath, not quite able to see what I'm doing. Panting a little, I eventually manage to push the button into the slot and zip it up. Fuck, that's tight. I stand up, and it's just about bearable. If I sit down though, I doubt the button can hold across this waist for long. I pull on what was once a loose t-shirt, now tight across my bulging gut. It just skims over the lower part of my belly, a sliver of skin still visible.

Frowning at my reflection, I sigh. I am the epitome of fat kid in too tight clothing.

I guess I'm getting way ahead of myself. I wasn't always like this. Not at all. But I wonder if anyone could ever tell from looking at me now that I used to be slender, I used to be fit, I used to even judge my classmates who let themselves grow even slightly overweight...?

I scoff bitterly - maybe a part of me deserves this. I'd always been harsh on my teammates if they'd put on a few pounds - I guess it came from my mother, who would turn her nose up disapprovingly if I so much as glanced in the direction of McDonalds. I lay back, that day gradually coming into focus in my head.

Sho had gained weight...

---

'-but it's not a whole lot, honestly! It's just a few pounds, captain! I swear I can lose it right away-!'

I narrow my blue eyes, letting Sho babble his excuses. First day back after our three week long vacation, this was not the kind of thing I wanted to see. Sho was new to the team - a first year - and the picture of energy, enthusiasm, and sheer genkiness. He had more passion for soccer than anyone I'd ever met. But he'd gotten chubby and I couldn't let that slide.

'What's this?' I'd asked, grabbing his much softer mid-section. The slight curve of his belly felt like dough in my hand; he'd put on just enough weight for his belly to push against the edge of his waistband. His t-shirt clung to his middle, his weight gain apparent.

'It's just - I got this new part time job in McDonalds, a-and I-'

'Sho,' I cut him off. 'This shouldn't happen. You can't play soccer if you're fat. You won't be able to run.'

'I promise I'll lose it all, Sena captain! I - just - I-,'

'I hope so...'

He bows, and steps back.

'Captain's eyes are scary when he's like that...'

'They're so blue and cool... I can't tell what he's thinking...'

I ignore the whispers of the managers, and nod sternly at Sho.

'I'll be writing up a diet and exercise program for you to follow and I need to you stick to it. You can't get any fatter.'

'O-of course!' Sho nods instantly, then cringes. I soften... Maybe I'm being too harsh on him...?

'Your eyes are as cold as ice, Sena.'

My best friend and classmate, Kiyama, grins and joins me as I make my way onto the pitch. Kiyama's smile is a lot warmer than mine; it reaches his eyes. He's half Italian, and a lot more expressive than full Japanese. I guess that's why he's so popular, though it's kind of ironic somebody so open has become my closest friend. I guess Kiyama just has that kind of personality that makes him approachable to anyone.

'Do you think I was too critical? Sho's gained a lot of weight... He's still a first year, and he needs to learn his body should be in perfect condition to play soccer.'

'Maybe... But Sho's so passionate~' Kiyama grins with a musical voice. 'And he was so worried about how you would scold him. I think you should take it easy. He'll lose weight in his own time.'

'Take it easy, take it easy... Everything will work out, right? You sound like him...' I sigh, that kind of childish naivety lost on me. 'He can't do this at his own pace; he needs to keep up with the rest of the team.' I say firmly.

'You're cold... You're cold, Sena!' Kiyama laughs. 'You need a girlfriend to melt that icy heart of yours.' He nods in the direction of Midori, our newest manager. She smiles shyly, nodding as we pass. Midori's got a face like a kitten, and the manners of a maiden. To be honest, I like her a lot, but... I don't know. She should date someone charming, like Kiyama.

Meanwhile, I know there's a reason girls nickname me the ice prince.

'I kinda wanna see you get fat, just to see how you'd react.'

'Don't say stupid things like that... That won't ever happen.' I shake my head defiantly, beginning to read over the training menu for today's practice.

'I'm sure you'd keep your pretty face, but maybe a belly would take you down a peg or two... Make you kinder.'

'Shut up.' Best friend or not, I can't stand when Kiyama spouts nonsense like this.

As expected, since it's the first day back training after a long holiday things do not go particularly well. My teammates have gotten lax.

'Yamazaki! Your passes are way off! Tanaka! Quit daydreaming and pay attention! Sho...' I grit my teeth. 'You can't keep up with the others at all! Come here!' I call the panting boy over, his chubby gut wobbling.

'You're way too out of shape,' I scold. 'I'm taking you off the first team until you've lost weight.'

'Wait, captain-!'

'Five laps around the pitch, starting now!' I order before he can argue. By the end of practice, I've made him run so much he looks like he's about to keel over. I catch him giving me a dark look as Midori passes him a beaker of water.

'I don't think I've ever seen Sho look at someone like that before. I think you really pushed him too far.'

'It's for his own good.'

'Don't you have any sympathy? Sena... I know soccer is important to you, but you don't have to be so harsh. Everyone is trying their best in their own way, Sho too.' Kiyama frowns.

'I'm tempted to make him strap weights to his thighs, to make him understand what it will feel like if he keeps gaining weight.'

'Coach won't let you do that.' Kiyama's smile doesn't return as we walk towards the changing rooms.

'That was a joke, actually.'

'You can joke? Wow, be still my beating heart...'

'Hey, drill sergeant. Are we training for the Olympics or something? Or is your Mom's life on the line if we don't win our next match...?'

Ray, the only other member of our team with foreign blood apart from Kiyama, ambles over to me, arms folded. His chocolate skin is glistening with sweat, as he narrows his dark eyes defiantly at me.

'What?'

'What?' Ray mocks me. 'It's our first day back and you already have everyone feeling like they want to kill themselves, or better, kill you.' He then grins. 'If it was me, I would have kicked Sho off the team.'

'I won't go that far. He's one of our best players. Was. Once he loses weight, he'll be fine.' I state.

'Whatever.' Ray replies, sounding bored. Appearance wise, Ray and I are complete opposites. He's short but well built, I'm tall and thin; his skin is dark, dark bronze, mine is as pale as snow; his bangs are dark, cut short and stylishly, my white hair hangs down to my shoulders, though I usually brush it back in a ponytail; his eyes are dark and wide, mine are clear blue and narrow. Ray's aggressive and confrontational and sarcastic; I'm a lot calmer, though we're both very, very blunt.

Next to Kiyama, I probably get on the best with Ray; he's pretty quick to tell me when he disagrees with me, and I appreciate the honesty.

'K-kiyama-senpai...' A timid voice asks. Midori is standing hesitantly beside Kiyama, looking anxious. 'If it's alright, can we talk for a moment?'

Kiyama nods, and they both step aside. I catch both of them glancing at me as they talk.

'I forgot Sho and Midori hang out a lot together, don't they...? You probably pissed her off... If someone like that can get pissed off.' Ray wonders.

I stay silent until Kiyama returns.

'Was that about what I think it was?' I ask.

'You know what that was about. You're pushing Sho too hard-' I cut Kiyama off and walk away, sitting on the bench opposite the shower room to wait for Sho. When he finally emerges, he hesitates when he sees me. I stand up and fold my arms.

'Do you think I'm being too harsh on you?' I ask. Sho says nothing, just looks down.

'Sho...' I say more softly. 'I'm doing this for your own good.'

'I understand, but...'

'But...?'

'It doesn't matter,' He looks up. 'Sena captain. I promise to do my best for you and this team.'

His smile is so honest I can't help but smile back.

'Sena captain... You have a great smile.'

I blink. 'That's irrelevant...'

He nods his head at me, then leaves to get changed. Of course Sho holds no ill will towards me... But maybe I will take it down a notch.

Alright, he gets one hour off every Sunday.

---

'I'm home...!' I call out, walking into the kitchen.

'How was practice?' Mom asks, preparing the vegetables for our dinner.

'It could have gone better...'

'Come here.'

'Wait a sec.' I drop my bag in my room and come back downstairs. 'What time will Dad be home this evening?'

'He won't.'

She doesn't continue, and I assume something came up.

'What do you want me to do?'

'I'm out of these ingredients. I need to to run to the convenience store to pick them up.' She says, handing me a list.

'You could have text me on the way over...' I sigh.

'Don't complain. Be back in twenty minutes.' Mom is as sharp as ever. I think it's pretty obvious where I get my personality from.

I catch sight of our family photo hanging on the wall.

I may act like Mom, but I look like Dad. We both have that soft, white hair and blue eyes. My parents were young when they had me, and even now we look more like siblings than anything else. Dad could be my older brother... He wears his long hair in a higher ponytail than mine, and he smiles more often.

'Hiroshi...'

My parents are just about the only people who call me by my first name, but even then I'm more used to being addressed as 'You!', especially by Mom. So when she calls out to me suddenly, it catches me off guard.

'Yeah...?'

She says nothing for a few seconds, just continues to chop vegetables.

'... It's nothing. Be back soon.'

The store is a five minute walk from our house, and it's usually a pretty quiet walk since our neighbors usually keep to themselves. As usual, everything was quiet, yet... I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following me. I could hear footsteps behind me, though they kept at a reasonable distance. Maybe I was just paranoid...

I considered pulling out my phone and sending Mom a message, but she'd more than likely just scold me. It's probably just my imagination...

If only I'd listened to my gut that day. I wish I'd ignored my pride and just sent Mom that message. If only...

---

'Hey. You. Get up.'

I'm abruptly pulled out of reminiscing about that day a few months ago. He's back.

'Put these on, you look ridiculous.'

At least, that's what it sounds like he's saying. He only ever speaks English to me, even though I know he's Japanese, like me. He thrusts a set of larger clothes in my direction, then continues. 'We're leaving tomorrow. Keep watching TV.'

After he leaves, I pull on the new set of clothes, which fit my softer, wider frame much better. This is the fourth set of clothes he's given me, and I'm almost afraid to check the label, considering the last set was Japanese XL. At least he's passing me new clothes. I mean, he's the one who's forced me to balloon up to this size in the first place.

Rice. Noodles. Meat. Pastries. Milk. Ice cream. Dessert. Fast food. He supplies a mountain of food throughout the day, and I learned quickly refusing to eat resulted in punishment. I have an angry red mark on my shoulder to prove it. It's funny... I always thought I had a pretty high pain tolerance, but even I could only hold out so long. That first night, the night he took me, he did something to my skin. He made some sort of patch, a few centimeters tall on my shoulder. It stung, but was pain I could endure. Until he pressed down sharply on it with some sort of small metal rod.

I can't begin to describe that kind of intense pain. He'd keep it up just long enough to draw tears from my eyes, then stop. Then repeat. Hissing in my ear that if I didn't eat everything he put in front of me that he would keep this up all night, I nodded, swearing I would do whatever he wanted. I don't know what I expected. At the time, eating double dessert seemed like a tiny price to pay for a torture session. Until I realized what he was doing. But every time I told him I refused to eat anymore, he brought out that small metal rod. So I broke.

I don't know why he's forcing me to eat, to get fatter, then handing me new clothes. I've tried asking, but naturally that only makes him angry. I hate when he yells at me in English. I learnt to react to a few words quickly. Shut up! Eat! Stand up! Shower!

Gradually my vocabulary improved, thanks to the second part of his strange rules. Along with eating an enormous surplus of food, I was to watch English TV all day, every day. He'd given me books too, although I hadn't touched them. I passed the time in this tiny box room with no windows sitting on the futon watching American day time TV. When you're that immersed in a language, you'd be surprised by how quickly you pick it up. I still can't speak English well, but I can understand. That seems to satisfy him.

I absentmindedly began to paw at the bags of McDonalds burgers he'd dropped in along with the new clothes. I've really come to hate myself... All those years of training, waking up early every morning... Completely undone in a couple of months. After a while, I began craving this kind of greasy, salty, fattening food. I guess... it makes eating easier, but... I hate what it's doing to my body.

I hitch up my shirt - now loose, but for how long I wonder - and prod at the mass of belly sitting in my lap. Since my skin is naturally so pale, my new stretch marks are really apparent from gaining this much weight so quickly. My gut started hanging down a while ago, and I have a feeling if I gain a lot more, it will start to fold over on itself, a double belly. My thighs began to press together a long time ago too, growing heavier by the day. And my arms have plumped up so much I have trouble jamming them through shirt sleeves.

Whatever... I growl, angrily devouring the McDonalds meal while trying to make sense of what the hell was going on in this American drama.

He comes back a few hours later.

'Come here.'

I hesitate a second too long and he reaches for me.

'I'm coming, I'm coming!' This earns a slap.

'I told you, speak English! You're fat, not stupid!' He growls, roughly tugging me forward. We pass through his tiny apartment to the bathroom, where I'm allowed to visit a few times a day. He pulls my long white hair back, pulling it into a higher ponytail than I usually wear, and before I can tell what's going on, he's chopped it all off.

'What did you do?' I scream, earning another slap.

'English! Stay there!'

Stupidly, I feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I know, it's ridiculous - it's just hair... but I liked wearing it long, like my father does. I feel like he's just taken something very important from me.

He returns with a bottle of black hair dye and the metal rod. I begin to back away.

'Calm down. This is just if you cause trouble. If you behave, I won't use it.' He explains.

I glare at him, but begrudgingly allow him to smear that disgusting black hair dye all over my head. He waits with me while the dye sets in, not saying a word.

I've seen him before. I mean, before he took me. I can't remember where, but I've definitely seen him before. His dark hair, those cold blue eyes...

'Who are you?' I ask quietly in English.

'Doesn't matter. So, you can speak English. Good boy.'

I growl, as he begins to wash the remaining dye out of my hair. When he's done and I'm allowed to look in the mirror, I see a stranger looking back at me. A morbidly obese fat  boy with choppy black bangs...

'Who are you...?' I ask again, this time referring to that fat boy in the mirror.

'Go back to your room.' Those are the last words he says to me that evening.

I've held out for long enough. No one can see me, so I let the tears flow down my cheeks. He's taken just about everything from me, and turned me into something I'm not, into a stranger.

Whoever you are... I won't ever forgive you...