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The Devil and Steve
Father thought it best that Steve watch his figure. He was fifteen, Steve that is, and an amazing gymnast. Father always dressed him in the finest clothes. Like a prince. Steve was cute, but very far from understanding about love. 

Never had he known about love or had even the fleetingest thought about "contact" with the opposite sex. His Father sheltered him a lot. He was shy. Painfully shy. As is always true with the human condition, when we are vehemently denied something, we resist and crave it more than conceivably possible. Steve was no exception to this rule. What did Father deny poor Steve? The sheer pleasure of culinary delight. The sheer pleasure of over-indulgence. 

Subsequently, Steve fantasized about only one thing: Food. His Father fed him meagre portions and regulated his caloric intake at all times. Shame on him. A kid should live life, yes? Steve lived in his food fantasies. He would dream about eating with wild abandon. One night, his dreams changed everything. Steve fell in love and destroyed all of his Father's hope... 

As Steve tossed and turned in his sleep, he dreamed of indulgence. Pies, cakes, ice cream, cookies and cupcakes. He was awakened by a gentle tap, a caress really, upon his shoulder. He turned slowly and saw him. He was dark, and dressed in crimson robes. He was handsome. 

-Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom? He was terrified. He began to scream. 

-Scream as you will, cutie. No one can hear you. You and I are conversing on the plane between sleep and waking. When you tire yourself out, we'll chat, yes? He quieted down and waited. 

-There's no need to fear me. Truly! I want you to think of me as your Dream Maker. I have been watching you...your dreams. Oh they are a wonderful sort. Truly. You are a poor starved child, and I pity you. I want to give you what you need, you see? 

-What do you mean? You are freaking me out! (Inside he felt a kind of comfort. And a kind of hope mixed with dread. Truly inexplicable.) 

-Come with me Steve. 

With that, Steve, feeling an unexplainable trust, swung out of bed, clothed in his pyjamas, and took the hand of the calming gentleman. He followed his through a house that was no longer his own. 

-I want to make you happy Steve. I want to help you live out your grand fantasies. You certainly do have a wild and fantastic imagination. It's a shame your real life deprives you of your needs. But I never will... They were now in a grand dining hall, with vaulted ceilings and a massive banquet table. As he rested his small frame on an enormous and ornamented chair at the end of the table, two tiny black creatures fluttered out on tiny wings to hear the man's words, spoken in a so very ancient tongue. The creatures fluttered away, sprightly and bouncing in air. 

-Steve. I want you to consider tonight an introduction. Consider my offer. Taste the possibilities. Think about me and what I can give you. 

-I just don't get it...why are we here? What do you want? Why do you feel so familiar to me so-- But he was interrupted by the reentrance of the fluttering creatures. The carried out from some hidden room the most beautiful gourmet cake. A work of art. With layers. And fresh whipped cream and sugary raspberry filling. It was large. Very large. It was set down before his. His eyes widened with awe and hunger. It was sin. It was temptation. It was forbidden...and unavoidably seductive. 

-May I have a piece? Please? I am so so hungry. 

-Of course you may. It is all for you. Do you see? Enjoy. Oh my, yes that's it. Oh I think we'll be able to share a tremendous relationship. My goodness. Yesss. Eat up pretty boy. Your so nearly starved. You poor dear. I'll take care of you. 

-Oh it IS so good. So good. 

The cake was disappearing rapidly. Here, in the otherworld, his appetite had no end. It was sweet and good. And soon, it was gone. And Steve smiled. As he was about to request some more treats, he awoke in his bed. Fully satisfied. Awake and happy. There was a handwritten note on his pillow. It smelled of everything tasty and sinful. It said simply: 

-Consider my invitation. I'd love to see you again. I'd love to make you happy. Simply let me know when you are ready after all the house is asleep. Sweet dreams... Concerned. 

He stuffed it into a drawer lest his prying and domineering Father should find it. It wasn't until he was pulling his jeans on after his shower that he noticed. It didn't fit. They simply wouldn't zip up. He sucked in and yanked the zipper up. Strange. Was that a double chin starting on his beautiful face? Just the puffiness of sleep. Steve couldn't wait until dark came around again... Steve moved awkwardly down the stairs. He felt absolutely stuffed, but he was hungry. His mind remembered back fondly to the night before. What a dream. Had it been real? He certainly felt that it was, but it was impossible. His shirt had simply shrunk. That was all. Father interrupted his reverie. 

-Oh my God! No matter what I do... Jesus Steven, are you sneaking on the side? You've somehow gotten fatter! Look at you! Both faces reddened--for different reasons. 

-Well, that settles it. You don't need breakfast. My God what are we to do? Steve looked down at his slender figure, frowning, full of Father-fueled shame. There was a barely perceptible swell over his zipper. Only his obsessed Father would have noticed. He tried to press it away. It felt like it had life. It was his craving, and his shame. It begged for more and he begged for it to disappear. 

-I guess we need to see Dr. Gerald for some new diet pills. Father checked himself in the hall mirror, smoothed his clothes over his emaciated figure. Steve grabbed his things and ran out to the bus stop, in tears. Steve went directly to the snack line at school. He was famished. He usually waited for lunch, but at lunch was Mr. Stanfield, a family friend. He was Father's "food spy." Steve piled his tray high with Hostess treats, cookies, and a greasy egg sandwich. He was actually salivating. His belly rumbled. He rubbed it... 

-Steven Richards! Mr. Stanfield. He must have come in early. Damn all. 

-I don't think so. Please! Your Father would kill me! Steve left, dejectedly. Lunch was a salad. Lite dressing on the side. He was dying of hunger. 

-Look at this, Honey! He was home now and his Father held Steve's belly like a disgusting creature for his father to see. He shook his head and confirmed the idea of the doctor visit. Dinner was unusually small that night. Steve lay crying in his bedroom that night. Alone. Feeling terrible. Feeling shame. He kept looking at himself in the mirror. Still skinny. Sallow. Sad. He stopped his tears. The house was quiet. Very quiet. His parents had been in bed a while. It was 12:30. And Steve began to feel the need. He felt greedy, giddy, hungry. He turned out his lights. Sat on his bed. Assumed the position of prayer. His hands were hot with tears. 

-I'm ready Sir. He waited. It seemed like forever. Perhaps it was. He appeared. Like a dream. Through the wall. In a haze. 

-Oh thank you thank you thank you. He kissed his hand. It tasted sweet. He led his silently to his table in the hall. He sat down eagerly. 

-How can I help you, Pretty Boy? 

-I'm absolutely starving. Oh please fill me up! Stuff me! I'm dying. 

He clapped his hands. The creatures fluttered in, laden with what was a platter of cheese covered pasta. A mountain of food. It smelled heavenly. He dove in. Eating voraciously. Sucking, slurping, devouring. It was so good. He hoped it would never end. He ate and ate and ate. Was the food even diminishing? It seemed not to. After many minutes, the platter lay empty. 

-Oh my Steve! You are a hungry one! 

-Mmmmmm. (sauce circled his mouth) Sooo good. I feel so stuffed. But I'm still starving. God I love it here. More please. Again the creatures came, and to Steve they were angels, delivering his own private heaven. He wanted to stay forever. The angels carried pies: apple, pumpkin, lemon, chocolate. He dug in. Sweet goodness. Chewing, swallowing, moaning. After a while, he lay back. Unable to lean forward any longer. Absolutely stuffed. His belly was stuffed, rounded, globular, tight. He rubbed it gently. Hiccuping. The creatures understood his need without his speaking. They quenched his thirst. Then they scurried back and forth, from the pies to his mouth with delicious morsels. He graciously opened his mouth for bite after bite. Chewing. Swallowing. Gorging. 

-Oh god oh god oh god. (muffled through sinful sweetness) He looked on and smiled. He'd get his wish. He was afraid of tomorrow and what it would bring... Steve awoke. Completely aware of his transgression. Guilt and pleasure argued in his heart and head. He felt like a balloon. Uncomfortable. Full full full. He grinned. Already he was dreaming of the night. Sweet night. He began to get up. Only one problem: he couldn't bend at the waist. 

-Oh my god. 

Fear moved within his heart...mixed with forbidden pleasure. He looked down at his midsection after throwing off the covers. He was FAT. Holy cow. Holy moly. Might as well try and sneak an elephant out the door past Father. A laugh escaped him. Short. Guilty. He lay flat on his back. His belly rose up in front of him. He was a whale. Huge. Plumped. His pyjama bottoms were pushed down by his straining belly. It was round. Stuffed round. His once tiny chest was thickened and swollen under his shirt into two massive tits. His fingers were fat. His arms were fat. How much had he eaten at otherworld? He remembered the pasta...the pies...the strawberry shortcake...the second course of lasagne and cheese-covered garlic bread...the angels stuffing bite after bite after bite after bite after bite into his oh-so-stuffed body. He giggled with sheer sin and happiness. Ice cream...grapes (so sweet and plump)...stew... Where did it end? He had no idea. He leaned back and accepted. His belly expanded...and expanded and grew and grew. The black wings fluttered like hummingbirds' and the deluge continued. 

At some point, realities had mixed and here he was: Unable to sit up. My god. What could he do. He rolled out of his bed and made his way to the mirror. Who was that fat boy in the mirror? His belly protruded outward, full and round. His tits pouted, resting on his belly. His face was fat, soft. Beautiful. He rubbed his belly. It rumbled. His thighs pressed together. His knees bent slightly inward. His calves were meaty, plump, fat. He was in absolute shock. How much how much how much? 

He waddled to his bathroom. Got on the scale... He was 5'5". His weight before had hovered around 108 lbs. Now? 

The needle flew. Past 110...120...160...180...200…220...250...268. What happened? How could this be? His Father was coming upstairs. Down the hall. In the door...without knocking. He gasped. His hand went to his mouth. 

-What in god's name? Steven. My god. What's happened to you? Steve grinned. 

Steve's Father and mother watched his from beyond the glass of the medical office. He slept peacefully. The doctor spoke in hushed tones as the three looked on. 

-We just don't know. There is no reasonable, rational explanation. It is truly bizarre. 

-But my baby! Please help us! He'll pop! 

-He's under now, and should be until tomorrow. It was a pretty strong sedative. Sleep is what he needs right now. Rest. Tomorrow we can begin to delve into this. Whatever it is we'll help you through it. 

-Oh my god. He looks so peaceful now. He's smiling in his sleep. My beautiful baby. He's gotten SO FAT. So HUGE. 


-Yes doctor? 

-Let's let Steve sleep in tomorrow, okay? We'll set up our first diagnostic for eleven, okay? 

-Yes doctor. 

Steve was happy. The steak was juicy and tender. The potatoes au gratin were delicious... and filling! Loaves of bread smothered with butter. The Mississippi mud pie had been ridiculously large! That was definitely too much. He had overdone it, truly! His legs were spread. His belly rested between his knees. Both hands couldn't work fast enough to put more food into his hungry hungry mouth. He was bent over the table. He had a napkin tucked under his sweet, double chin. He was happy. Smiling. 

He stood beside him. Whispering in his ear. Encouraging. Beaming with pride. 

And he grew. His face was fatter than before. So soft. His belly pressed forward, over the edge of the chair. Groaning. Cakes (chocolate, vanilla, sweet frosting),...doughnuts (giant, cream filled)...cheesecake...cheese soup... Growing. Blowing up. Blimping. Swelling. The hunger wouldn't end. He grew and grew and grew. 

He encouraged and smiled. He looked back at him. Proud. 

The night wore on into day... As the nurse entered the room, he dropped his tray. It clanged to the floor. Steve was up. And stretching. Smiling. 

-Good morning nurse! Oh, I see I shocked you. I am so sorry! Let me help you. 

He was huge. Round. He was a Buddha. Thick, round, FAT thighs. Enormous belly sticking out, hanging down. Butt curving out out out. Tits resting on his belly. Huge. Gothic. His beautiful face was surrounded with fat. Plump, red cheeks, three chins. Stunning. He could not bend down to pick up the tray. His enormous belly prevented him... 

-Oops! Sorry. Looks like I over did it! Oof. Boy am I stuffed. I have to get a hold of myself! He turned...and his thighs and rear end rolled in waves. Love handles, soft and plump at his sides. Fat little knees...plumpness at his elbows and wrists. His belly was smooth, soft, full. His blue pyjamas pushed up and down over his huge hanging belly. He really was so nearly round. The nurse left the room. The scale told Steve a deep dark secret. He was fat. So fat. So round. The scale hit 400, its maximum, and the needle was jammed in the corner. 

Across the hall, his Father dozed. Father felt a tap on his shoulder. He awoke, and a strange man in robes greeted his. He led him quietly through the halls, promising his answers, solutions. He obeyed. He led his to a room with a large glass window that looked down on a banquet table. His Steven walked out, looking eager. Excited. He sat down at HIS seat. In all his glory. Fat. A mountain of gluttony. But boy was he hungry. The feeding began. Steve ate greedily. Stuffing his fat face. He was exuberant. Thrilled. 

-Oh please...help him sir. Please? He'll explode! He's so FAT. He's enormous! Help him! I want him to be happy again! 

-Sir. I assure you that I have helped him. And I am sure he is happy. Look at him! He's beautiful! 

Steve smiled. And ate. And grew. And ate. And swelled. He beamed with pride. Steve was fat. Fatter. He kept on eating. And eating. And Steve was happy. He never stopped smiling...


Source: http://www.bigguts.com/forum/showthread.php?t=2676
Category: fantasy | Added by: existimator (2012-07-08) | Author: Glen H W
Views: 7912 | Comments: 1 | Rating: 4.4/5
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