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Alex and Mitch Part 1
Mitch stayed over at my house for a while. |
He lived with his mother, Ann, who had to go on a work trip for six months. None of her family could take care of him, so he asked my dad, Josh, if Mitch could stay with us. He said yes.
Who am I? I'm Alex. I'm 14 years old, 5"7', and 150 pounds. I've been a gainer for a few years, but I've had a lot of trouble putting on the weight. Mitch has been my friend for as long as I can remember. He's also 14, but he's 5"4' and about 220 pounds. He's got a pretty big belly, and it seems that he enjoys it. He's shirtless every time he can be.
I live with my dad. He almost 50, he's about 6"1', and he's 450 pounds. He has a huge belly and obviously loves it. At the beach, all he wears is a speedo. He owns only a few shirts, and they're all way too tight. He's always sitting around the house, and he pretty much only ever wears shorts, underwear, or a towel.
My dad loves to cook. He makes giant feasts for us all the time, but I can only ever get one or two servings before he eats it all. This all changed when Mitch came.
Mitch and I mostly played video games and talked all day. At night, we slept on a bunk bed. He was on bottom, I was on the top. One night, he asked me if he could tell me a secret. "Sure." I said. He told me that he liked being fat. I told him that I did too, and explained to him that there are people called gainers that like being fat and try to gain as much weight as they can. We came up with a plan so that we could both get fatter.
Because we had a guest, my dad made even bigger feasts, and ate slower so that Mitch could have more to eat. Mitch would convince my Dad to make more food, and everyone would get to eat more. By the end of a meal, I would have had at least twelve servings.
My dad started to make more meals for us. We would have two breakfasts, a brunch, two more breakfasts, lunch, some snacks while we sat on the sofa (when I say snacks, I mean multiple bags of chips, entire cakes, boxes and boxes of cookies...), three "pre-dinners", actual dinner (which was five times as big as a pre-dinner), and then an early night snack. Then, at midnight, we would all get up and have a midnight snack. The midnight snack was the biggest of the snacks, and we usually had some sort of large meat, a big dessert food (like a cake for everyone), and a few bags of chips and pretzels.
By the third month of this, we all had gotten much bigger. My dad was 500, I was 230, and Mitch was 275. We loved it. Fortunately, it was summer, and I was ready to show off my new belly. We went to the beach, in nothing but shirts, and everyone stared at us. During the three hours we were on the boardwalk, we ate ten orders of fries each, fifteen sandwiches of some sort of fish each, and at least 8 giant cups of ice cream each. When we got home, our bellies were stuffed.
Mitch and I were huge. One day, I got so fat that while I was on the top bunk, it broke, and I fell on Mitch. We were both really heavy sleepers, so neither of us noticed until morning.
None of our clothes fit anymore. We got invited to a Bar Mitzvah, and when we went, all of our clothes were bursting at their seams. I wore a white button down shirt, a black bow tie, and a black sports jacket, but I ate so much that you could see my giant belly bursting out of the shirt.
By the end of the six months, my dad was 550 pounds, Mitch was 275, and I was 350. I was huge. I loved it. Ann called again, and said that she'd be gone another two months. Most of that time we spent stuffing our faces.
Finally, Ann came. Her jaw almost dropped at how big we'd all become. She took Mitch home, and lectured him on why it was not good to be fat. She loved to cook, so she made him a giant feast right afterward.
One day, months after Mitch had left, something big happened...
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