WEIGH STATION: 3 MILES read the sign.
"Good. It's been a while since we passed one. We'll need to stop."
"Oh come on, Steve. It was just three hours ago. I really don't think..."
"Brandon, you know the rules. I know you're new to the circuit, but we've got to stop at each weigh station. Besides, it's getting kind of late. There' s a nice truck stop there, and we can get a room for the night. I don't want you cramping up again in the sleeping car."
"All right." Brandon adjusted his girth in the passenger seat and patted his round belly. It was solid and firm, spreading out in a small sphere across his lap. The shirt was an XL, and it was stretching to the limit. Brandon thought, half-mournfully and half-excitedly, that the shirt was brand new and slightly loose just 10 days ago.
Steve pulled into the truck stop, nearly bounding out of the cab. He helped Brandon maneuver out of the car, his impressive belly shifting back and forth with each step. Brandon began heading toward the building, waddling slightly, his huge bubble of a butt teasing Steve with each step.
Steve held open the door as wide as he could for Brandon, whose hands hadn't left his belly since he had gotten out of the cab. The building was half convenience store, half restaurant, but the first thing to greet them wasn't a waiter or a cashier. It was a huge steel scale, easily 7 feet wide. The read-out sat above on a panel in the wall, the numbers a huge, loud neon color. Brandon stepped on and the numbers began to spin and blink like a game show attraction. Brandon smiled at Steve as the numbers spun, the two of them anxiously awaiting the results. With a loud bell, the numbers stopped, a mechanical voice announcing the results.
"Two-hundred sixty-five pounds."
"265? That's fantastic!" Steve enthusiastically threw his muscular arms around the plump 24-year-old. "You've gained five pounds since yesterday!" Brandon patted his belly and heard a low grumble start. He smiled broadly.
"Should we shoot for five more?" Brandon and Steve kissed, the stubble on Steve's hard jaw line brushing against the soft smoothness of Brandon's face. They didn't notice the host from the restaurant approaching them.
"Good evening, gentleman! Welcome to the Eat-N-Grow Truck Stop. Can I help you to a...oh, man. You're...you're him, aren't you? You're Exapndin' Brandon, the New Yorker Porker!"
"Yes, I am," Brandon said, suppressing a low belch.
"Oh, man, I'm a huge fan. You look fantastic! Are you guys heading to the Mr. Gainer USA contest?"
"We sure are," Steve said, his hand joining Brandon's, beaming with pride.
"Great. We just re-stocked the buffet...and I'd be happy to let you partake free of charge."
Brandon's stomach growled in response. He could already see how much bigger it was going to get. He imagined the shirt tearing, the jeans ripping, both Steve and this cute, young waiter taking turns shoveling buffet plates into his anxious, waiting mouth.
"Lead the way!"