Two weeks later the dial on the scales spun around and bounced

until it stopped squarely on 302. This is fucking hot! My cock was

practically beating itself on my underbelly, as hard as it was

throbbing. I don't think I had ever shot a load so big or so far as

that morning.

For lunch Dave and I hit one of our regular haunts and got our

regular table with a familiar waitress. We always tip well, and she

keeps my glass topped off with root beer. I was plowing through

my 5th or 6th plate when Dave reached across the table

--mid-sentence-- and harpooned a meatball from my pile. The

swiftness of moving his thickly muscled torso and arm to get it so

fast totally amazed me, and I felt a slight breeze as he swept it

away and popped it into his mouth.

"Eh, these aren't bad, but not nearly as good as the ones I make,"

he said thoughtfully.

"You cook?" I asked, hoping to open up a better subject than

hockey and pickup trucks.

"Fuck yeah! Hey, it's Friday and there's a game on tonight. Why

don't you come over and I'll whip up some grub for ya. I might even

make Mom's special meatballs." He grinned widely and winked,

taking me totally by surprise. Even after a month of studying this

guy's every flinch, he never ceased to throw me the occasional

curve.

"Sure, man. . . I'll stop by my place after work and change, then I'll

be over, OK?"

"Awesome. " He grinned again, warmer than ever, and

subconsciously rubbed one of his massive pecs.

When I got home, I quickly stripped down to change, but seeing

and feeling my belly, still bloated from the noontime gorging, got me

so horny I just had to relieve some pressure before heading to

Dave's. Maybe now I won't get hard in front of him, I thought. I

threw on my loosest jeans and left my tee shirt untucked, and

headed out. Dave's house had steps up to the back door with no

landing, so I knocked on his door while standing two steps down.

When the door opened, I know I must have had the exact same

expression as the first time I ever saw Dave, because I was staring

straight at the most grotesquely overstuffed basket I'd ever seen. I

had always seen Dave in baggy Dockers, but tonight he was in

skin-tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination. My eyes worked

their way around the bulge, taking careful stock of the outline of a

fat cockhead on one side, and an even bigger, lower bulge of his

nuts on the other. My cock never hangs that far down a leg unless

it's hard, and he was totally soft! And his balls each had to be about

the size of a lemon! His monster unit was separated by the crotch

of his jeans, pulled tight by the muscled bubble butt on the other

side. He wore a tee shirt that was not tucked in, and it cascaded

over his pecs and hung straight down to his waist, leaving it totally

uncertain as to whether he had ripped abs or a modest belly.

"You gonna come in?" He snapped me out of my trance.

"Oh! hehe. . . uhhh. . . yeah. . . hey, how's it going? God something

smells good!" Dave ignored my ogling and ushered me off to the

kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed two beers and handed

me one. "You said you liked Molson, right? Well," he laughed,

"you'd better, 'cause I bought a whole damn case of the stuff. Have

as many as you want. It's taking up too much room in the fridge."

The table was set and he started bringing platters and mixing bowls

full of food. There had to be enough to feed 5 or 6 grown men.

"You expecting company? Shit, you cooked a whole cow!" I

laughed.

"Naw. . . this is all for us. It'll be like going to the buffet, only we've

got enough time to actually fill up for a change."

We sat down and dug in, with Dave gushing about where each

recipe had come from, what he'd altered, and so on. Everything

was so good, I lost count of the number of times I refilled my plate.

Sometimes Dave would put a small portion onto his plate, then a

huge scoop onto mine. "Don't let this stuff go to waste," he said. It's

not as good re-heated."

As I started to slow down, Dave glanced up at the clock. "Hey, I'll

bet the pre-game show is on. He shoved the chair back and stood

up in one movement, again giving me a great view of his

overendowment. He grabbed two more beers from the fridge and

headed into the living room. He put both beers on the coffee table

and dragged it out away from the couch.

It was an old couch, very low but deep to the back. The kind of

overstuffed couch that's easy to sleep on because of its width, and

almost forces you to slouch if you sit and lean back all the way. As I

leaned forward to scoot my chair back, I became very aware of

how totally overstuffed I was. My belly was now a rock-hard

beachball resting low on my lap. My cock stirred as I got up and

waddled to the living room. I felt like the prow of a ship, as I made

my way to the couch. The lowness of the couch took me by

surprise when I sat down, and if I was going to sit up straight, I had

to spread my legs wide and let my belly rest in between, like an

hard boiled egg in a cup. Dave flopped down heavily, close enough

that his arm gently brushed mine. That guy just had no respect for

personal space, and my cock could not have been happier!

He turned on the TV and slouched way down, and I did the same. I

could barely see the TV over my engorged belly, and I glanced over

and noticed that Dave's chin was resting between the tops of his

huge pecs! A cool breeze told me that slouching back had pulled up

my shirt and exposed a great deal of my underbelly, but I didn't

care at this point. Dave rubbed his stomach and moaned. "Man, I

think I overdid it. . . I am SO totally stuffed!"

With that, he pulled up his shirt, revealing big deep cut abs, now

swollen out quite a bit. Each one had to be as big as my bicep, but

instead of laying in a flat row, the whole thing bowed outward like

he'd been hooked to a hose and inflated. The slightest movement of

his arms made his pecs jump to attention, rising even higher around

his chin. God, this can't be real! He leaned a bit my way and a hand

ran up my shirt, taking it up and exposing my pale smooth globe of

fat.

"Damn, dude, this thing is awesome! Have you put on a pound or

two in the last month?" His hand traced my belly slowly and so

gently it could have been the hand of a child.

"Fuck yeah, I've put on a pound or two. . . more like 50!" I thought.

"And it's all your damn fault! " His gentle rubbing was becoming

more forceful, till my belly was moving back and forth under his

curious hand. He suddenly came out of his trance and jerked his

hand away, not bothering to re-cover my belly.

"Shit! I almost forgot dessert! Don't get up. . . " and he darted off to

the kitchen again leaving me to ogle his bubble butt this time. No

problem, big guy. I can see you just fine from here. I pulled my shirt

back down to where it had started. If he wants to play with it, he's

got to go in there and get it!

Dave returned with two dinner plates piled high with dessert, and

two more beers pinched expertly between his fingers. "This is

caramel. . . apple. . . turnover. . . cobbler. . . thingee. " He was

turning a plate in front of me for my approval. ". . . a la mode," he

grinned, and gave a satisfied nod. He placed one on top of my belly

as though it were a table, and sat down again.

"Hmmm, this isn't gonna work," I said, and I struggled to sit up. I

spread my legs and let my belly fall forward, pulling me upright, and

started to eat that wonderful concoction. Even sitting up, I could still

rest the plate on my belly. I'd rather put on a show for my host than

drop a crumb on his carpet. There had to be half a pie crumbled up

in there, with Ben & Jerry's Triple Caramel Chunk ice cream and

caramel sauce drizzled over that. This alone would be more than an

average guy could eat in one sitting, and we were both already

stuffed to the gills!

We watched the pre-game show and sucked down our desserts.

It's like there's an understood protocol that anything with ice cream

needs to be eaten before it melts. I laid my empty plate on the

coffee table, chugged the last of what must have been my fifth beer

of the evening, and flopped backwards with an "oof!" My belly stuck

out so far now that it sloshed towards my face as I leaned back,

then returned forward with a clearly audible "gloop!" from inside. To

make my show complete, I locked my fingers behind my head,

arched my back, and pushed my belly out hard with a loud groan.

I'd done this exercise before, to stretch out my abs and make a

swollen belly more comfortable, but only in private. Between the

Molsons and Dave's lack of inhibitions, I was definitely losing my

shyness.

The stretching made my shirt ride way up, exposing most of my

belly, and I was content to leave it that way. My groan had drawn

Dave's attention away from the TV, and as I relaxed looking at the

ceiling, I heard Dave put his plate on the coffee table.

"Holy shit dude," he said softly as he turned to get closer. His hand

came over and rubbed gently in circles around my belly. I looked

over at him and noticed how his pecs were now squashed together,

forming cleavage deep enough to easily lose my whole hand in, and

he still had a shirt on! "You're gonna fuckin' pop! You all right?"

I let out an audible sigh and laid my head back again. "That feels

good, man," I said quietly. "I think I overdid it a bit, but everything

was so good. So good. "

He smiled over me as he leaned in to massage my tight ball. "Dude,

what do you think you weigh?" he asked. Man, this guy's bedroom

voice was as hot as he was big.

"Gotta be around 305 by now," I said. The beers must have been

kicking in, because my belly felt warm and relaxed under his thick

fingers.

"I think it looks good on you. . . real good. " My cock started to stir.

May as well go for broke.

"Not half as good as that muscle-bound body of yours, dude. " Was

that a bit over the top?

"Eh, I've got a lot of growing to do yet," he shrugged, a neutral

response to my overt flirting. Could a human possibly get any

bigger? I could feel my boner growing down the inside of a pantleg.

I hoped he was thinking the same thing, because I would be more

than happy to try. I'd get so fucking huge for him.

"Well you're going to start growing a fat belly like mine if you do

much more pigging out like we just did," I said, nodding towards his

puffed out musclebelly, now covered once again.

"Naw," he said, and lifted his shirt again. "I can burn a little snack

like this in one trip to the gym. You should see it after I've had a

shake, you'd really be impressed. "

"A shake?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"You know, a weight gain shake. You don't think I got this big

drinking beer did you? Hehe check this out. . . Stay here. " He

hopped up again and was in the kitchen in two steps. I was still

fascinated by how nimble his body was with the mass he carried.

He returned with a gallon jug and a beer.

"Here's another if you're out," he said as he sat the beer in front of

me. "Watch this, dude. " He stood right in front of me, between me

and the coffee table, and held his shirt up with one hand while

bringing the jug to his lips with the other. He threw his head back

and began to chug the contents of the jug, stopping for one or two

breaths every three or four gulps. I could literally see his

musclebelly swelling before my eyes as the whole gallon

disappeared. The paper-thin tanned skin on his abs stretched

tighter with each swallow. He seemed totally intent on getting it all

in, and his hand began to roam around, feeling the growing

curvature. I also couldn't help but notice his cockhead was getting

fatter and was sliding further down his pantleg.

"Wow!" I breathed, and sat up from where I'd been propped on my

elbows. My face was now inches from his swollen musclebelly, and

better yet, inches from his monstrous cock! I placed both hands on

his eight-pack and felt the last swallows going in. I began a gentle

massage as he finished the jug and smiled down at me between his

pecs.

"You like that, do ya?" he asked softly. He put the jug on the coffee

table and grabbed the shirt, pulling it over his head and off. This

was the first time I had actually seen his pecs, and as his beefy

arms came back down the muscle piled up on his chest and puffed

out bigger and bigger. His pecs came to rest hanging several inches

out over the upper row of abs, so big that the large brown

cone-shaped nipples pointed straight down at his inflated

musclebelly. I've never seen bigger pecs, not even on pro

bodybuilders. They started at his collar bone and rose straight out,

almost perfectly spherical, tanned and without a single hair. They

were so wide that when he stood relaxed, his arms rested in the

valley between his pecs and his lats. This guy's chest had to be no

less than three feet wide.

"Holy fuckin' shit! Dude, you're awesome!" I resumed exploring his

belly, this time letting my hands wander high enough to brush his

nipples. He stood leaning back slightly, his arms resting in their

normal bow, and smiled. His cock was now throbbing, the head

about to burst through the denim halfway to his knee.

 Part 3