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Cliff - Part 1
| You had to admit it: you looked great. At 6 feet and 170 pounds, you were quite a hunk. The winter of hard work at the gym had paid off. Your waist had shrunk a couple of inches (finally!) to 30, while your chest was a cool, wide 44. Your stomach, if not a washboard, was at least rock-hard; and this was particularly gratifying. When you gained weight, it always seemed to settle in your gut, making it round and a little flabby. While you were extremely vain about your own weight and degree of fitness, body-builders were not your type. Oh sure, muscles were nice, but your taste in men ran to extra beefy "daddy" types. In fact, last Saturday at the Ripcord, you noticed a guy who could have stepped out of your fantasies. By slipping the bartender a twenty, you found out the new guy's name was Cliff, and he had just moved to Houston from Dallas. He always came in and left alone. Apparently Cliff came out to drink and little else. At 6'2", Cliff was a little taller than you. He also outweighed you by a good 50 pounds. A lot of difference was muscle, but Cliff sported quite a magnificent gut. His belly seemed almost to burst out of his jeans, and it looked like he was following it around when he walked. Otherwise Cliff was almost too good looking, in a rugged sort of way: dark hair, moustache, even a fucking cleft in his chin! Massive, muscular pecs sat on top of his bulging gut, and his ass was firm, round and muscular; all obvious signs of time spent at the gym. You wondered why he had the gut. You'd decided, nonetheless, that Cliff was what you wanted, and you were planning on seeing him tonight. You were pulling out all the stops -- tonight you'd go out shirtless, just a leather harness for effect, tight faded jeans, and old pair of high tops. He'd notice you for sure. You reach the Ripcord at about 11 pm , order a drink, and casually search the bar for Cliff. There he is. You see him leaning against one of the posts, nursing a Lone Star, ignoring the crowd. Cliff was shirtless, too, and also in a harness. While your harness showed off your chest, Cliff's only accentuated the size and fullness of his huge hairy belly. Wow, you think, what a tribute to that beer! Then you think maybe he's too big. After all, what if your friends saw you walk out with this guy? They'd kidded you before about being a closet chubby chaser. You grab your drink and position yourself across the room where you can keep an eye on him. You talk to a few friends; he talks to no one. After a few more drinks, you decided its time to make a move. You walk over and introduce yourself. You tell him you've seen him around for the past few weeks, and all but tell him he's the hottest thing you've seen in Houston in quite some time. He seems to be enjoying the flattery and keeps up the conversation, even though you're doing most of the talking. He buys two beers and two big bags of chips at the bar and hands you one of each. You accept, not wanting to offend him, with a brief "I shouldn't eat these -- I'll have to work out twice as hard at the gym tomorrow." He looks you up and down and says, "Oh? I'm not much into worrying about that sort of thing." He pauses to wolf down another bag of chips. "I never could figure out what was so great about a 28 inch waist." With this, he wipes the grease from his hands on his bulging gut, pushing it out even farther, as if to emphasize his point. On the defensive, and feeling the effects of too many drinks, you confess that one of the things that turns you on about him is his gut. Immediately, you worry that you've blown it, and quickly add, "No offence " "None taken," he says, posturing himself to accentuate the size of his belly. "To tell the truth," he says with a grin, "it turns me on, too." As the liquor take further hold of you, you find yourself confessing that you wouldn't mind adding a bit of a gut yourself. You remember now, looking back, that at this point there was a real change in Cliff. All of a sudden, he appeared to be hanging on your every word. It was as if you had stumbled onto something he found extremely secret and erotic. The last thing you remember clearly about that Saturday night was Cliff placing his huge belly against you and seductively rubbing it against you, whispering, "I think I can help!" You wake up suddenly. God, what a hangover! The room is dark, but you know at once it's not your own room. In fact, as you become more awake, you sense that you're not in a bed at all. You're sort of suspended: hanging horizontally, butt up, chest down, totally naked. What the fuck?! You can feel something stuck down your throat, a tube or something. Although you can feel it there, your hands can't reach it. Your hands and feet are bound. And you hear something move -- you're not alone. "So! You're finally awake. Let me get the lights." A bright, painful flash causes you to wince. As your vision clears, the first thing you see in a tube hanging before your eyes. You can see you're in a sling, and hanging in a mirrored room. You notice the mirrors are so positioned that you can see every square inch of your body, even your ass. On the wall above you is a blackboard. Written on it are the day (Sunday), the date, and information labelled Weight, Neck, Chest, Waist, Hips, Thigh, Calves, Arms, and % Body fat. The chart reads Weight - 171 Neck - 15.5 Chest - 44 Waist - 30 Hips - 32 Thighs - 22 Calves - 14 Arms - 15.5 % Body fat -12% You recognize these as your measurements, the last time you checked. What gives? Your vision continues to clear. Eventually you can see Cliff. In spite of everything going on, your dick springs to immediate attention! He's standing in front of you, naked, except for a very tight body harness. Must have bought that before he discovered Lone Star Beer, you think. The belt of the harness is cinched tight, making Cliff's massive gut seem to explode out of the leather girdle. He dick is barely enclosed in a tight leather pouch which juts out between his muscular thighs. His pecs and chest are fantastic, his ass like muscular volleyballs. He moves forward, coming ot rest with legs slightly spread, his bulging crotch and gut less than 6 inches from your face. "We're going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next year, so the sooner you accept the fact, the easier your life will be. I promise you, though, that our lives will be interesting. Together, we're going to explore a few of my fantasies. As long as I can remember, I've always wanted to fatten up a jock. I didn't just want a fat guy; I wanted someone who used to be like you. Someone who spent a lot of time working out, staying trim. But, I wanted more. I wanted him to get fat. Well, not just "fat". . . FAT! Not chubby, not husky, not flabby. . .FAT! "Oh, I met a few guys who would voluntarily add 10 maybe 15 pounds because it seemed to please me. But once they got a clear picture of what I wanted they ran. I outfoxed a few. I'm a pretty good cook; a few extra meals, some protein shakes, and a few extra beers. . .well, they never knew what hit them. . .until they'd gained 25 pounds. Then they'd run like hell back to the gym. "But you're going to be different. No gym. No diets. No running away. No choice. You think I've got a fat gut? Just wait, buddy, just wait!" Eventually, Cliff gets around to the tube. It was connected to a 5 litre bottle of a protein/carbohydrate mixture. . ."similar to what the really big power lifters use to gain bulk. The only difference is that it has two extra ingredients. The first one will put you to sleep. I realize that you'd get sort of bored hanging around with nothing to do for a whole year, but eat. Don't worry, I'll wake you every couple of weeks or so, and you can see the kind of progress we're making. Think of it as your 'report card'. Also, don't worry about your muscles. I've got some of those machines that exercise your arms and legs automatically. I wouldn't want you to lose any of those nice muscles. But no stomach exercises. Definitely NO sit ups! "I can honestly say you're going to love the second ingredient. And I do mean LOVE. You see, it's addictive. Only a little at first, but with time, you'll find that you can't bear to be without it. Unlike regular drugs, this one leaves your mind totally clear. You just gotta have it. Each bottle of this shit contains about 15,000 calories. Now what with that little belly you've got, we're gonna have to start out slow. Maybe only about a third today. But in your position, that's 4,000 more calories than you need. That means we can expect you to start gaining about 5 to 6 pounds a week. How's that sound, skinny?" Jesus H. Fucking Christ! This guy was serious! You try to scream, to wrench yourself out of the sling. No good; you're bound to tight, and the tube is strapped into your mouth. You're horrified; there's an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. What's going to happen to me, you think. When the food starts flowing down the tube, there's nothing you can do but swallow. As your stomach begins to get full, you feel drowsy, ready to sleep. What the hell would you look like when you woke up next? Slowly, you regain consciousness. What a dream! Your eyes remain shut; you can't remember when you felt so tired. You also feel uncomfortable. Your stomach feels, well, STUFFED. . .almost to bursting. "Come on, big guy, rise and shine!" Your eyes fly open as you recognize the voice. You're suddenly aware that this hasn't been a dream. The first thing you see is Cliff, himself bigger than ever, standing beside the blackboard. He grins widely and says, "Check it out!" From the date you figure you've been asleep for about 30 days. Next to the current date, underneath the originals, are new statistics. They read: Weight - 202 Neck - 19.5 Chest - 45 Waist - 38 Hips - 37 Thighs - 24 Calves - 14 Arms - 16.5 % Body fat -18% Author - Unknown - please let us know! | |
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