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Fatburger Part 1

Mike used to swagger into the burger stand nearly every day, ordering up a huge tray of chow and stuffing it down on the way back from the gym. A big guy like him, though, could support the calorie intake. Despite having finished his regular college football regimen five years ago, he still cut a solid, imposing frame in the entry to the burger joint. I used to swoon every time he bounded through the door, waving hi as he stepped up to the counter for the usual order.


This is not to imply that Mike’s post collegiate eating habits didn’t show. It just seemed that for what the guy shoveled in, any other ex-jock would have been pinned down under a gut so huge it’d be tough to squeeze into the booths. Mike was a defensive lineman in college. He played at a smaller league school, so he got to start at on 6’ 1” and, my guess, about 225# of beefy muscle – back when he played. That is by no means to say he was small. He had some serious depth in his chest, broad round shoulders, and thighs like tree trunks. He’d definitely thickened up some since abandoning the daily field routines, but he kept up the weight regimen. His meaty pecs were still round and firm, his thighs were as powerful as ever, his biceps just as bulging. But where his abs once cut sharp lines in his uniform, his long-waisted torso now bowed forward with the solid bulge of a former football jock’s paunch. He carried it well, not making any attempt to hide it. Instead, Mike stood squarely with his shoulders back, pecs raised high, nice start of a gut arcing out in front of him. His back swayed in counterpoint, first forward where his gut started on his front side, bending more where his belly was thicker, then swooping back out into his bulbous glutes. I’d watch entranced as his chest and hips worked in opposition when he swung open the door and blazed into the place, gut tight against his tee-shirt, highlighting its new swell.


And Mike always ate like he couldn’t care less how much that gut might grow as a result of his post-collegiate eating habits. I’d seen his gut first sprout about a year ago, emerging and bulging to its present size. Mike almost seemed a little proud of it. He’d absent-mindedly rub his hand across his stretched tee shirt as he’d eye the menu, assembling his current feast in his head. As he did, I was guessing how much he must have gained – 25 pounds at least. And then today’s order followed.


"Hey bud. Pretty starved today. I’ll take four of those Double Fat Burgers, two large fries, a jumbo coke, and what the hell, a jumbo shake too.”

"Big order today, huh?”

"Yeah. I cranked pretty hard at the gym though. I think I deserve it. My arms and legs are achin’. No better way to replenish the system, that’s for sure.”

"No doubt. That’s gonna start sticking to your gut soon, though, if you keep it up.”

"Yeah, whatever. Some already has, I guess. I figure it’s the benefit of not having to stay in training for football. I’m lovin’ eating whatever the hell I want now.”  With one hand, Mike slapped the firm top of his gut, right where it started to bow out slightly from the base of his pecs, and with the other, he reached around to grasp the lower bow of his belly, right below his navel. He almost caressed the rock solid ball as he said, "if I gain a few, who gives a fuck. Won’t likely get any bigger than this since I’m still working out hard. I’m not worried.”


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He was right about that. Over the past year, I had closely watched the changes in Mike’s total build beyond the belly. First his muscles were thickening up from all the working out. He’d proudly tell me how he was beefing up his lifting routine. I think any cardio work he used to do for football was getting replaced with weight training. The changes looked good on him. He was muscling up more and more, and he was definitely getting the appetite to match his growing girth.


He started eating a bit more with each trip into the burger joint. I’d notice his order grow over time. At first it was always the same, but eventually Mike added a second trip to the counter. He’d kind of sheepishly make an excuse about how he was still starving and ask for another burger, then two. One day, I finally just added the second helpings to his first order, telling him it was on the house, saving him the second trip. He grinned ear to ear, and after that, any shyness about his orders was long gone. He’d belly up to the counter and order away. I watched him beef up a little more each month. His pecs swelled. His biceps yanked hard at the sleeve openings in his shirts. His thighs strained against his shorts. And little by little, an undeniable gut sprouted and rounded out, firm like a basketball, obviously present, no way for him to hide it any more. His bulging gut was riding high while pushing down on the waistband of his shorts. He looked incredible, and I got feverish with intensifying fantasies of stuffing him nonstop after store hours until he his gut swelled up to wedge into the booth for good. He had to be pushing 260 these days.


Then one day Mike didn’t come in as scheduled. I was bummed and kept looking toward the door every time I saw it move. No sign of him. The evening fell into night, and still by 9 o’clock, no Mike. Huh, I thought. He must’ve skipped a day at the gym. Then, about an hour before closing, in he came.


"Hey stud. Thought you were blowing us off today.”

"Nah, nah. Just got a new shift at work. Made me change my gym routine so I gotta workout later in the evening now. But MAN, am I hungry. I didn’t have time to eat a fucking thing before I went to work out. I hate not being able to fuel up before a workout. I could eat a horse.”

"Well lucky for you, we still have tons of food ready to offer up for you. What’ll it be?”

"The usual, man, and make it fast!”

"Doesn’t sound like that’s going to be enough.”

"Yeah, well it’ll get me going. I’m too fucking hungry to think about it.”

"Coming right up.”


I had a tray with Mike’s new usual of seven burgers, four orders of fries, drinks, and two shakes ready in a flash. He grabbed the tray and practically ran off to a booth to tear into his food. Enrapt as I watched him eat, I just went ahead and loaded up a second tray, taking it to him just as Mike stuffed the last huge mouthful of his seventh burger into his mouth. With his cheeks swollen as he chewed, he looked up and kind of chuckled. Mumbling around his mouthful, he laughed, "man, I still could eat, but I don’t know if even I could stuff down a whole second order, bud.” Grunting to swallow so he could speak more clearly, "besides, I’m almost outta cash.”

"Hey, that’s no problem. End of the day here, these would have been trash anyway. Might as well see it go to use.”

"Well shit, alright. I’ll see what I can do. Appreciate it man.”


Before he even finished the sentence, he was ripping open a burger wrapper. Deeply focused on eating, he didn’t even seem to notice me sit down. After his third, or rather tenth burger, fries already stuffed down practically five at a time, he finally slowed. Leaning back, hands grasping the sides of his now distended gut, Mike groaned deeply and let out a hefty belch that shook the table.

"Ooooooooo. Sorry man. Got kinda carried away and made a pig of myself. I feel like this gut’s gonna fucking explode!”

I nearly passed out at the sight of his tee-shirt creeping up to expose his tightly fed belly, which now seemed to inflate a notch or three as he slowly exhaled.

"Come on Mike. One last burger. You don’t want me pitching that out do you?”

"Aw, yeah right! Nice of you to offer guy, but this pup’s gonna pop if I stuff down any more. I got carried away. I was so damn hungry coming over here. The hunger pangs were rumblin’ so hard it felt like my gut would cave in. I had to get some chow in this gut fast. When I get hungry like that, there’s no stopping me until that rumbling quits. When I get starved like that, I can’t focus on nothing but get some chow in this thing. Nothing worse than serious hunger pangs. Always have had to stop and chow whenever I got ’em, no matter what.”

"Then I don’t want you leaving crabby. You better eat those last few burgers for the road.”

Thump thump thump as Mike swatted the tight top of his gut – the point right where his now stuffed gut launched forward from the base of his pecs.

"Ooof. This thing’s pretty packed. Don’t think I can. I better get this monster home so I can rest it up. Thanks for the bonus chow though, man. Saved the day.”

"You sure? After a late workout you have to still be hungry.”

"Aw, thanks man, really. But I hit the limit here. I better take off.”


No amount of coaxing was going to do it. I tried four more times to goad Mike into polishing off at least one more burger. Nothing did the trick though. I even offered to wrap a few burgers to go. If I couldn’t at least see him eat until that tee shirt yanked all the way up over his bulging jock gut, I wanted to know he might be feeding it more yet later. Finally, I succeeded, and, eyes half closed, groaning deeply about how full he was as he stretched to a full stance, belly definitely jutting out more than I had even seen it before, Mike lumbered out of the place. The bag loaded with six extra burgers swung in his hand, leaving me shaking at the thought of stuffing him until morning.


Fatburger2.jpg (31950 bytes)


The more I thought on it, the more I was obsessed with seeing the beefy jock gorge until he couldn’t move, until his belly really blew up beyond belief. I had intense visions of him losing control, eating anything I brought to him, stuffing and stuffing and stuffing himself nonstop, eating as long as I brought him food, gorging as I watched his belly inflate like a swelling balloon. I had to see it. There had to be a way to get him going. He obviously loved to eat. There just had to be a way to get him going.


A few more weeks went by, with Mike now coming in at day end according to his new schedule. He was definitely eating more by waiting until the late hour. I thought it was wishful thinking at first, but then the more his tee shirts grew obviously tighter, the more I was sure he was gaining. No doubt about it now. This muscled jock was FAT. His belly bounced with its own life every time he swaggered in. It led into the room ahead of him, firm and round like he swallowed an over-inflated beach ball. I’d find myself distracted as he ordered, trying to guess what he’d gained. Finally one day I asked.


"So hey, stud, how much are you weighing in at these days?”

"Shit, I don’t know. Don’t care much about the scale since I don’t have to weigh in regularly for ball. Last I weighed in was before this schedule change. Was coming in about 255#.”

"Yeah? So what’d you used to play at?”

"Huh. Shit, about 225, bud. Definitely gained some since then. Mostly muscle though, huh. Some gut, but . . . .”

"Yeah some,” I cut him off, "but it’s looking good on you man. Looks like you might even be a little beefier now.”

What was coming over me?

"Yeah? Maybe this new routine is catching up with me. Definitely lifting more, but I guess the gut’s beefing up too huh?”

That night, after his usual gorging, I again succeeded in handing a huge bag of to-go food off to Mike as he headed for the door. Screwing up my nerve, I said, "why don’t you polish those off after you get home and check out the scale, stud.”

My knees shook as I said it, but Mike’s eyes kind lit up. I wonder if he realized he’d find a dozen burgers in that bag when he got home.

"You wanting to know how you’ve kept this jock fed, aren’t ya? Alright. Alright. You got it. See ya tomorrow.” He swung out of the place, nearly opening the door with the huge gut that bumped into the glass before the rest of him got to it.

The entire next day, I was held by the image of Mike stuffing the food in his mouth, barely unwrapping it, eating on top of what I saw him choke down in the restaurant, then hoisting up, lumbering over to the scale, leaning forward to see over his stuffed gut as the dial whirled to register the damage.


I nearly passed out the next night when he practically ran up to the counter. "Hey bud, get this! I about fucking flipped. I chowed down on all that food you sent me out with last night. I was totally packed, man. Gut looked like I drained an entire keg! Decided to weigh in. I’m up to 298 fucking pounds!! I’ve been packing it on like a sumo. This night feeding is really making me fat as hell, bud. I better go easy tonight or I’ll be topping 300 before I’m even done with my first order! This gut’s getting monster!!”


I was the most turned on I’d ever been while simultaneously devastated that Mike was planning to ease up on his eating. Not that Mike ate lightly that night, but he definitely cut back. The subsequent nights brought more of the same. He still ate like a manly stud, but he was easing up on the orders. His gut didn’t seem to shrink any yet, but if he cut back more, he’d surely start dropping weight. I couldn’t have that. Even the usual coaxing didn’t work. The more he held to his guns, the more I felt this fever rise in my brain. I had become totally addicted to seeing him fatten up, taking his order every night and knowing I was helping his gut swell. This couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t let it. Had his gut actually shrunk a touch since his vow to not gain more? I had to do something. That was NOT going to happen.



As intense images of force feeding the jock got more and more predominant in my mind, I though of every way I could possibly get him eating more. Everything. Coax him to eat. Flat out compliment his gut. Take over and feed him myself. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll make him gorge. Just stand on his table as he sits down to eat and shove burger after burger into his mouth with both hands. Overcome him and make him eat until he’s stuck in the booth.


Then reality hit. That jock is nearly twice my size and definitely getting stronger. No way in hell he’s gonna be overcome unless he wants it.


Unless he wants it. Hmm. How do I accomplish that.


I thought for two weeks solid, watching him still enter the restaurant each night and order up, but definitely not eat until he was so stuffed he had to waddled out like he used to. He was eating big, but just eating until he had taken off the hunger edge, not putting away enough to make his gut stretch against his shirt. I nearly gave up pushing extra orders on him, but the visions of him ballooning up were no less intense.


Then one night I overheard a conversation that gave me a flash of insight. These two girls were in the back by the cooler. From around the corner, I heard the one telling her friend about a cousin that had been losing weight. I couldn’t catch everything, but the gist was that the cousin had a disorder that killed his appetite. The doctor finally suggested some kind of appetite stimulant that this guy could drink. In larger than normal doses, it restored his hunger, and he began eating normally again, gaining back nearly 30 pounds. I practically tripped as I whipped around the corner to demand the name of this drink. Recovering some, I tried to explain I knew someone with the same condition. The 16 year-old finally told me, also warning me that her cousin had to suddenly stop taking the stuff once he got back to normal weight. He only needed to be taking about a cupful of the stuff a day to get really hungry, and he kept it up too long. I guess the upcoming point to her story was how her cousin ended up with a 15-pound paunch, of all the horrors, particularly in thin-obsessed Los Angeles. If she only knew my plans.


Going on a city -wide campaign, I bought every amount of this stuff I could find. I had tons on hand when I was done, and I poured all the various bottles into emptied milk jugs from work. Dizzy at what I was about to try, I took a box fully loaded with a few gallons of the stuff in to work one night. When I saw Mike heading in, I was ready. He ordered. Just 3 burgers, one order or fries, and one soda.  Even less than normal.


"That’s it stud?” I said, a little more committed to encouraging him to eat more knowing what was coming.

"Yeah, that’s it. Gotta shed this gut. I told ya man. I’ve gotten way too porked up. This gut hasn’t shrunk much, so I need to start cutting back more. I’m still weighin’ in at 294 pounds! I am NOT gonna break that 300 mark. That’d be too damn fat, even for me.”

"Alright then. But you’re gonna waste away.”

"Heh. Doubt it bud with this thing.”

"Well, here’s all but the soda. Gotta reload the machine, so I’ll bring it to you.”

"Alright. I’ll be over there.”


I watched him walk over to a booth and start eating. Looking around, I was relieved to see no one else left in the place. I pulled out the secret liquid and dumped some into the cup, topping it off with coke until the color looked about right. It was a little lighter, but hopefully Mike wouldn’t notice. I whisked it over to him, swinging by to lock the doors to the restaurant.


Fatburger3.jpg (33732 bytes)


"Just in time, man. I need to wash this stuff down.”

Taking the lid off the cup, Mike threw back over two-thirds the drink in one motion. Suddenly he put the cup down and looked into it though.

"Ugh. Tastes weird bud. Whad’ya do to the mix on this stuff? You give me diet or somethin’? I know I’ve been packing it on, but I still hate that diet shit.”

Trembling, "Oops. Sorry, I must have. Well, polish that off and I’ll get you the right one in a second.”

"Yeah, no prob. Thanks.” He tipped up the cup and drained it.


As he emptied the glass, I walked back to the counter, looking over my shoulder to see what would happen next. Mike was just leaning back, looking down at his belly. I filled another cup with regular coke. I was dying to throw in more of the liquid, but I didn’t dare get caught. I hesitated for about ten minutes, looking over to see Mike leaning back, studying his belly as he rubbed his hands across the front of it in slow, massaging motions.


Finally, I walked the new drink back, and Mike took it readily.

"Much better. Tastes like it should.” He pounded the whole thing. "Hey, hard to believe, but I’m still hungry. Guess I worked out pretty hard today. My stomach’s still kind of rumbling. I know I need to watch it, but I think I’ll take another order. Should be cool if the gut’s still asking for more, huh?”

"Oh, yeah definitely. You can’t have over-eaten if you’re belly is rumbling.”

"Alright, man. Ring it up. Almost feels like I’m more hungry than when I got here.”


I was throbbing. It was working. I couldn’t believe it. I loaded up a tray with 6 more burgers, 4 huge orders of fries, a few pies, and two more regular cokes. About to run the loaded tray over, I stopped. I took the cokes off the tray and headed to the shake machine. Taking two of the biggest cups we had, I filled them halfway with the appetite stimulant. I threw the nozzle open and topped off each with chocolate shake. There was no way he could taste the stuff on top of the ice cream.


I took the food to the table, making the excuses as I walked. "That coke machine is all messed up. Brought you a couple shakes instead until I can get it running. Tried to thin them down a bit though for you.”

"Fuck man! I said I was still hungry, but that tray’s loaded to the hilt.”

"Yeah, well start off with a shake and see how much you want. Be right back with the rest.”

Taking a swig of the first shake, Mike said, "The rest? In your dreams buddy. All this chow will make my gut bulge as it is.”


That’s right stud. In my dreams – and soon to be your reality.


And it worked. As Mike drank the shake, he started eating everything in front of him. "Hey man, where’s that soda? I need a drink here.”

"Coming. Coming. You’re gonna have to make due with that shake for a few though. This thing is all whacked. I’m working on it.” Yeah, sure I am.

"Aw man, alright, but this thing is pretty thick and these burgers are really going down.” In between every few words, Mike was cramming food in his mouth, mumbling the rest of his sentences around each overstuffed mouthful. "Shit, I’m still starving. How the hell can that be? I’ve put away a ton here, and my guts rumbling like I haven’t eaten all day.”  I swore I could see his gut expanded before my eyes.


Fatburger4.jpg (34362 bytes)


Then there I was with a huge coke. And you know it was half appetite stimulant.

"Thanks. I’m so parched.”

Without even noticing the off mix, Mike threw it all back.

"I can’t believe it, but I’m still fucking starved here. I better order a few more bud. What’s with me tonight, huh?? It’s like I’m getting hungrier and hungrier. Fucking weird.” He closed his eyes, exhaled hard, and rubbed his belly with both hands. "I can’t tell if this thing’s aching from being hungry or being so stuffed full!!”

"Wouldn’t worry about it. We’ve got tons around, and there’s not a soul in the place. You know, why don’t you just come back here and help yourself while I work on this machine some more.”

"Yeah, good deal. I gotta stop these hunger pangs or I’m gonna be major annoyed.”


Mike stood up, and once again I saw that gut bowing out like it used to daily. This time, though, it bulged out well over a foot and a half in front of him already. He looked a bit dizzy as he followed me to the front of the restaurant. I was hot at the sight of his stretched gut as he swaggered back behind the counter with me. I guided him through the narrow doorway, barely three feet wide, that led to the back of the order counter. Mike looked like he’d nearly fill the door jam if he turned sideways. I panicked a second when I realized all the jugs were sitting on the counter right by the door, but Mike was too busy groaning in a food-induced daze to even notice.


Fatburger5.jpg (30967 bytes)


I headed him toward one of the two racks of waiting burgers and told him to have at it. He nearly stuck his face right onto the rack as he starting inhaling burgers. Almost too engrossed to think, watching enrapt as Mike started stuffing his face like never before, I managed to clear my head some. I opened up the top of the shake machine and screwed up my nerve. Pulling out the last three jugs of liquid, I dumped over two gallons into the shake mix remaining in the machine. As the motor whirled, I watched Mike gorge. He was feverishly shoveling it in. I could literally see his belly notch up a few inches at a time as he ate like a pig. He was cramming it in with both hands, eating so fast he couldn’t even talk, though he was mumbling something in between deep, animal grunts as he ate faster and faster. His gut now bloated to a size I never imaged possible, he finally slowed only after wiping out nearly every last burger in front of him. He fell forward with a grunt, leaning his strong forearm on the rack, his head slumped on his arm, and his gut pressing firmly into the ledge, holding him back a good few feet by now.


Fatburger6.jpg (31179 bytes)


Gasping for air, the bloated jock muttered, "fuck, man. What’s up with me? My gut aches like hell! Ugh, I really can’t tell if I’m stuffed or hungry. This thing feels so fucking tight, but that rumbling is still there some. Never experienced something like this. I better rest.”

"Here, take a swig of this first. It’ll ease that hunger pang.” I handed him another shake, more intense on appetite stimulant than ice cream. "I watered it down some so you can drink it. That damn soda machine is still out.”

"Ooof. Alright. Man, I feel weird.” He turned to face me, HUGE belly travelling in a giant arc out in front of him as he swung around. He started sipping, but then little by little he was drinking full force. The cup was drained in less than a minute.

"Shit! I’m fucking starving, but there’s no way I can be hungry. I’ve eaten like a hog here!”

"Have another shake stud.”

"But, mphfph.”


I finally did it. As he was about to protest, I just stick the cup in his face, taking it and tipping it all the way up to gush into his mouth. Too confused by his body’s signals to question it, Mike just shut his eyes and chugged. And when the second cup was drained, I had a third stuck to his mouth so fast I don’t thing he even noticed it was another drink. I kept it up until I had poured five of the shakes down his throat, emptying half the machine.


Falling back against the wall, Mike grabbed his gut and practically hollered. Groaning as he alternately leaned forward and then arched his torso way back, he nearly convulsed as he wrapped his arms around his gut.
"Mother fuck! This belly is rumbling like the Niagara Falls! I’ve never felt so damn hungry in all my life!! I feel like I’m gonna fucking explode from pigging out, but I gotta eat!!! AAAGHHHH.” He was bellowing as he grabbed his gut hard. "Get me a burger fast! I gotta stop this. What the fuck is going on?!?!?!”

Moving fast, I grabbed burger after burger from the tray next to me. Tearing the wrappers off, I stuffed them hard and fast into Mike’s mouth with the base of my hand. He chomped on anything I stuffed in his mouth as fast as I could feed him, taking off over half a burger at a bite. Slurping and groaning, he practically was hollering in between swallows.

Fatburger7.jpg (38675 bytes)


"Mphfm. My, ugh, gut, ooooooof, mphf, fucking, mphgf, aches! UUUUGGHGGH!”

But he kept packing it in. I could see his belly ballooning up like I hooked him to an air hose. He was gorging so fast; I could see his shirt yank up over his belly as it swelled. It could only get as far as the middle, widest breadth of his belly before it pulled to its tightest limit, bottom seam pulled to nearly transparent across his swelling belly. I leaned into his belly and got dizzy. His gut was stuffed tight, firm like smooth stone, packed so full of burgers that it was hard as a rock. I stuffed him harder yet, having to feel that gut notch up fatter as he gorged. I felt his belly swell and push me back inch by inch. I heard a new sound – a rip - a huge tearing noise. His shirt was literally busting open up the sides from the pressure of his ballooning belly. Ready now to make Mike gorge until that shirt blew open right up to hit arm pits, I kept feeding him faster and faster and faster until he finally bellowed,




Fatburger8.jpg (31973 bytes)


Throwing his head back and clamping his hands on the sides of his gut, he slid down the wall into a heap on the floor. Groaning as he bent in half to sit, he twisted sideways and sprawled out flat on the floor. His gut bulged up like a massive beach ball on top of his torso. He looked like a huge muscle stud with this spherical gut just clamped firmly on his stomach. He almost writhed, arching his back, making his gut poke up even higher in the air. I have never seen anyone’s belly blown up so tight and huge in my life. He finally settled in, just groaning deeply and rubbing his belly in huge slow arcing motions. I bent down and tentatively rubbed his gut too. Encouraged by the deep exhale and groan Mike let out when I touched him, I kneeled down and began to gently massage his belly. For nearly an hour, I caressed the jock’s bloated belly. It was stretched to nearly bursting, so tight I was sure his gut would pop if either of us pressed too hard. Aside from getting up to turn off the lights out front, I sat there completely focused on the sight of this huge ballooned belly shoved up in the air, topping Mike’s beefy muscular body like he was a cobra that swallowed an elephant. I was ready to rub that belly until morning to make the jock feel better, loving every square inch of that massive swell.


Finally, Mike was relaxed enough to talk again.

"Ah shit,” he quietly groaned. "What in the hell came over me I have never felt like that in my life. I couldn’t stop fucking eatin’ man.”

Leaning his head forward, but leaving the rest of his hulking body in place, his eyes bugged at the sight of the gut rising up beneath his chin.
"SHIT!! Look at that thing. It looks like you fed me a god damn air balloon!”

"Sure does. I’ve never seen anything so incredible.” I was shaking again.

Throwing his head back on the floor, Mike just groaned again. "Shit, I’m never gonna shed this gut. I must be crazy, but I still even feel a touch hungry. There’s no way that’s fucking possible!”


Not losing a second on that cue, I moved to straddle Mike’s belly. How could I not?!? I had just realized his mouth was directly under the shake machine’s spout, and he just said he was hungry.

"Welp, let’s just give you a touch more of this then.”

Before he could even say "huh,” I had the shake flowing right from the spout down to where Mike’s mouth opened up to protest. When he tried to move, I clamped my thighs around the firm sides of his gut and threw the spout to full force. Landing back on the floor, pinned under the weight of his gut and now me, Mike could only struggle to swallow fast enough to drain the machine. I lowered myself only a touch and could feel Mike’s gut pressing fully into my legs and groin. He groaned as I did, and I saw him shut his eyes tight as the shake gushed into his mouth, overflowing slightly as he struggled to keep up with the flow.

"There you go Fatboy. You better drink all that down and kill off that huge jock’s hunger pangs.”

I was in control now. I was driven be the feel of his belly as it notched up fatter and fatter under me. I could feel it swelling up as he drank, knowing his gut was going to be rumbling with inescapable hunger again any minute.


Fatburger9.jpg (38344 bytes)


Yelling as he could through the thick shake, Mike started to move. A few more seconds, and the entire tank of shake mix was drained. Mike rolled over on his side, practically throwing me with the weight of his belly.

"Damn! This can’t be!! I’m gonna explode for real this time, and I’m fucking hungry as hell again! You gotta help me outta here man. This is bad. I gotta get home.” Writhing and using all the muscle he had, Mike literally hoisted his girth up from the floor with his beefy arms like someone getting out of a pool. I was amazed that his huge arms could press his hulking weight up from the floor. As his body came up, Mike bounced back a few times as his belly bumped hard into the counter. Once at full height, triceps bulging, he leaned over and set his bloated gut on the counter. Rolling up on it until his feet nearly came off the floor, he yelled like a guy ready to attack.



Thrashing like a wild animal, he rolled his gut off the counter and started stumbling toward the doorway by the food counter. I rushed over to try to stop him, and we landed at the door at the exact same time. Both pressing hard, Mike trying to get out, though still hanging onto his belly, me trying to block the door, we wound up literally wedged into the frame, face to face, squeezed in tightly by the huge incredibly hard belly pushing up each back to the doorframe. I felt his giant belly shoving hard into me. It knocked the breath out of my chest, and Mike let out a gasp and groan as he swung forward and back. His trashing, though, only succeeded in making us wedge in tighter. His gut had us stuck firmly in the door, and me feet were nearly off the ground, his gyrations having lifting me up higher in the opening.


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 Part 2

Written by Exjkfeeder@aol.com

Drawings by Warren Davis

Source: http://ballbellybear.com/stories/FatBurger.htm
Category: fantasy | Added by: existimator (2012-08-12) | Author: Exjkfeeder@aol.com
Views: 5783 | Comments: 2 | Rating: 4.0/4
Total comments: 2
0   Spam
2 johnnymsugar   (2016-02-03 22:40:33)
A true classic of the genre.

0   Spam
1 Growrnshowr   (2012-09-12 13:47:44)
THE classic, made all the hotter coupled with the art work that started it all!

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