Senior Year

Senior Year

Published by Indecisiveguy · 2012-09-23T09:02:59+0000

Senior Year

“You want me to WHAT!?!” I cried, feeling my body tense away from the relaxing snuggle my boyfriend and I had been doing.

Kevin grinned sheepishly. “Well, you heard me. But I’ve always thought it would be hot seeing to let yourself go for a little while. It’s senior year, and I figure we try for a few months, and if you don’t like it, you can always get back into shape before graduation. And you know how much you’re always saying that you hate what you need to do to stay in shape.”

He was right about that. I’d come in to college as an ever-so-slightly chunky freshmen, mortified about gaining the freshmen fifteen. Watching my diet like a hawk for the first year, and making sure I had my butt in the gym at least four days a week had transformed me into a toned, if slim, guy. But I loved to eat, always had, it had always been a struggle.

I closed my eyes and pictured myself letting all of my hard work go to waste. I wasn’t quite sure if I liked the idea of putting on a few pounds, but I did like the idea of being able to eat whatever I wanted. And Kevin was clearly into the idea. I nodded to him.

“Two conditions: We stop whenever I say stop, and I still get to go to the gym. I’ll put on a little weight, but I can’t become a tub of lard.”

He beamed at me. “Done!” He excitedly kissed me, and then asked “Do you mind if I make a run to McDonalds and we can get started?” He knew how much I loved fast food, and how little of it I let myself eat. He’d been planning this for a while.

I smiled at him. “Sure,” I said.

He was out of our apartment like a shot. I wasn’t sure if I had really thought about what I’d gotten myself into. I stripped off all of my clothes, and stood naked in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom. I looked closely at the body I’d spent the last three years building, trying to commit it to memory. No matter how long I indulged Kevin in this little experiment, I wanted to make sure I knew what I was going to get back to when it was over.

I reached down to stroke my hard-won six-pack. Sorry guys, I thought, I guess you’re going on a little vacation.

By the time Kevin got back from McDonalds, I had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He burst into the bedroom excitedly, arms laden with bags of food that smelled like heavenly, greasy fries.

I started to stand up, but he shook his had. “No, babe, let’s do it in bed.”

He laid out his gains. “Two quarter-pounders with cheese, two large fries, a chocolate milkshake, and McFlurry if you’ve still got room after.”

“Kevin, I can’t possibly eat all that.”

“Just try, Rajiv. Eat as much as you can, and we’ll see. You might surprise yourself.”

The smell from the bags was awfully tempting, so I reached in, grabbed a handful of fries, and popped them in my mouth. The salt and grease were as powerful as I remember, and I had no trouble diving in to the rest of the food. I didn’t quite get through everything (I made Kevin put the McFlurry in the freezer for later), but I ate so much more than I thought I could.

I laid back, stuffed, against the pillows. I could feel how bloated I was.

Kevin saw, and liked it. He lift up the hem of my t-shirt and inspected my mid-section. “Food-baby,” he said. He stroked my bloated belly, and gently planted a kiss on it. He was enjoying himself, and almost before I knew what was happening, I felt myself pop a major woody. He noticed it too.

He kissed my belly again, and then pulled down my sweats and drew me into his mouth. As he worked my cock, he started rubbing my belly. Which, I have to admit, felt pretty great. When at last he couldn’t contain himself , and reached into his pants to give some attention to his own cock, I reached down to stroke my new paunch myself. I traced the curve of it from under my pecs to down across my belly button. Meanwhile, Kevin had been continuing his attention at points below.

My attention went fuzzy for a minute as I came, as my back arched and I moaned loudly. Kevin shot a second later, collapsing next to me.

I cleaned myself up as best I could. Kevin was next to me, somewhat catatonic, so I kissed him on the forehead, and hopped out of bed. I went into the bathroom, and before I hopped into the shower, I took a minute to examine myself in the bathroom mirror.

I was definitely looking bloated. My “food-baby” had pushed my waist out from its normal resting place below my pecs to a very slight outward curve. As I stroked it, I had to admit, it felt pretty damned good.

Okay, I thought, this might be fun.

When I finished with my shower and got dressed, Kevin was lightly napping. I didn’t want to disturb him. When he finally did wake up, about a half hour later, he wandered, bleary-eyed into the living room to find me slurping down the last spoonful of my McFlurry. He gave me an amused grin.

“What?” I said, “I was hungry.”

We had a few more sessions like that over the weekend, and each time, I seemed to enjoy myself more and more. When Monday morning came, and I was back on campus walking to class, I felt different. Bigger. I knew most of it was in my head, but I strode around campus feeling like the proverbial Big Man.

We kept playing the game all month. I don’t know what I was expecting, perhaps to be grossed out, but as I stuffed myself more and more, I found that I liked it more and more as well. Even though I thought I was aware of the ways my body was starting to change, it had still come on kind of slow. Then all at once, it wasn’t.

Toward the end of September, I reached into my closet one morning and absent-mindedly pulled out a button-down shirt that had always been a bit tight on me, even before I’d given myself over to Kevin’s attentions. It didn’t seem like anything unusual at I got it buttoned, and it felt tight against my mid-section.

I was sitting down to eat breakfast (three donuts and a big bowl of cereal with whole milk), when Kevin saw my outfit and grinned broadly. “Look,” he said.

I glanced down at my waist, and saw that the buttons were straining to hold my round paunch. I started to get up to change, but Kevin shook his head. He added two donuts and a big glass of milk to my breakfast. I figured out where he was going.

As everything was settling in my stomach, I leaned back in my chair to get a better look. The shirt was stretched tight over my belly. While I was looking, one of the buttons gave up its fight, and popped, easing the strain on the rest of them.

I got up and went into the bedroom to change. As I rooted around for a more forgiving shirt, I took a look in the bedroom mirror. It wasn’t noticeable from the front, but from the side, I could see where a new roll of fat had added started to pad over my abs. This wasn’t bloat from one of Kevin’s feeding sessions, this was here to stay.

“Well,” I said under my breath, “here we go…”