So, Hello---I never know what to say in these ads....the stats: I'm 5' 10" tall--165 lbs. and 28 years old. I've been known to turn a few heads. My hair is brown and my eyes are hazel. I'm fairly smooth. I was born in Greece, so I guess you can guess the status of circumcision...I'm in graduate school, finishing a Masters in Business Administration. I have a sense of humor. I like jazz and a good scotch. I've been sort of in and out of the gay community, kinda out for the last several months of grad school while I've been concentrating on other things.

I have fantasy of meeting Mr. Right. I've dated Mr. Wrong, Mr. Rightaway, and Mr. Clueless, and that just doesn't cut it anymore. I'm looking for someone I know I can depend on...I really believe in a monogamous relationship....thought I had one a while back, but I guess he didn't think so.

I'd like someone about my age. Not too hairy...race doesn't matter so much to me. I'd like someone who could make me laugh every now and then. I'd enjoy romantic dinners and cuddling by the fireplace (you got a fireplace?).

I'd also enjoy someone who wouldn't mind being in the more dominant role, who could take charge. It would be a plus if he had a little gut...I'm not into really skinny guys. Guess that's it. My ID number is 4784B.

So, 4784B:

You say you like to be dominated. Not a problem. It's something I can do really well. You also say that you aren't into skinny guys, but your profile says you're only 165 pounds at 5 foot ten. Have you always been that thin?

And do you have a gif?

LeatherMaster

Hey, LeatherMaster,

I'm having a photo scanned and hope to have it on-line by the end of the week. Seems like so many guys want to see what I look like before they get more serious. Can you tell me more about you? I mean, besides the fact that you're dominant? Was I always skinny? I don't really think of myself as skinny right now, but no, I was a chubby kid. In fact my dad's nickname for me in Greek would translate as "chubby." I was pretty heavy until high school. I started slimming down and enjoyed the attention I got from a lot of guys at the lighter weight. How about you?

You got a name besides Chubby? Yeah. I've got a gut. It's hard and it's round . ..and looks hot pushing out of my leather vest. Wouldn't you enjoy me holding you captive, pushing my hard gut against you, pinning you against the wall? I'm thirty-three. I'm Hispanic--fairly dark--a dusting of black hair at my crotch and the center of my chest. As long as it's clear what the roles are--and I'm the macho one---just never forget that--I can be very romantic.

I just find the idea of you being just 165 pounds a bit of a turn off.

Have you ever considered adding some weight?

LeatherMaster

Dear LeatherMaster,

Have I ever thought of gaining some weight? Well, to be honest, it's sort of been a secret fantasy...there are times I'd really like to order dessert...I means it's been more than two years since I've had a chocolate chip cookie. I drag my ass out of bed each morning at 6am and jog three miles, trying to make sure the 30 inch jeans keep fitting. There are times I would enjoy just rolling over and shutting off the alarm and pulling the covers over my head. There are times I try to remember what it would be like to wake up and smell waffles and sausages instead of dry toast and orange juice.

I just get nervous about putting on weight and then finding that the whole world wants a skinny-puppy, and I end up all alone...course, I'm pretty much alone now, so I guess that's not the only answer.

George

Dear George,

(You named after the first President?--doesn't sound so much like a Greek name) Don't you think it's funny that you advertised about finding a man with a gut sexy, and you don't see that a gut on you would be seen as sexy? Sure there are guys who only want the model/GQ/International Male type--but there are others who want a man with more substance...you just end up with a different audience. But it's still an audience. Tell me your fantasy about what it would be like for you to be dominated?

Mr. C aka LeatherMaster

Dear Mr. C,

Feels funny--never had to talk openly about this kind of stuff...I'd really get off with the idea that a strong guy orders me around. Makes my decisions for me. Tells me to do something and if I hesitate, he grabs me and tells me to fuckin do it and do it NOW! I've never been tied up or restrained before, but I find the idea hot....nothing too rough--I'm not into pain. I just like the idea of giving up having to make all the decisions the way I have to do in my shit job and grad school. I've been thinking a lot about what you wrote, and about how I'd like to rub my hands across your hard round belly...I went to the mall and had a chocolate cookie...it tasted so damn good--just like I remembered. My pants still fit. Sorry I didn't go for the damn cookie earlier. (And George was my grandfather's name--and he wasn't president of anything....he did run a restaurant, which maybe was why I was chubby....)

George:

I like the idea of telling you what to do. I like the idea of making your decisions for you. I'm very, very good at that. I wonder how good you really are at following orders...let's test you out to see how well you follow directions.

I order you to finish this e-mail and then go to the phone and order an extra-large pizza with everything on it and see how much you can eat. When you can't eat anymore, then I want you to take off your pants and take a deep breath and eat one more slice. You have your orders.

Master Carlos

Dear Master,

I did it! I can't believe it...it's like I'm pissing away the last 8 years of sit-ups and diets and daily runs...I mean, it's not as if I've suddenly turned into a sumo wrestler or something--don't get me wrong....I mean this morning my pants weren't snug or anything--there's like no evidence anything actually happened other than a smelly pizza box....my stomach's still flat and all, but you don't know what this feels like. I mean, ever since my sophomore year in high school I have monitored every damn calorie and fucking fat gram, denying myself and all I could think of was how much I really wanted to slap a thick layer of butter on my bread. I ran and ran and ran, trying to run away from a childhood of being a fatso, while all the time I would have dreams about being a real balloon--being beach-ball bellied like my Uncle Stephen...he was in a magazine article a couple of years ago--he's a "fat activist" for fat rights...they also interviewed his wife and she called herself a "cellulite surfer"---I loved that term. I remember when I was a little kid and Uncle Stephen was the biggest human I had ever seen. Hell, I guess he's still the fattest guy I've ever seen. He's over 400 pounds.

There were times when I was a teenager when I would come in from a morning run and I'd shower and soap myself up and rub the lather up and down my belly and push my belly out, pretending to be like Uncle Stephen, and I'd have the best jerk off.

Anyway, I signed off like you told me to and called the local pizza joint and ordered the extra large with everything on it. I tipped the delivery boy. I've never even ordered a pizza before...didn't come under the category of nearly 10 years of diet foods, trying to keep myself under 170 pounds. I opened up the carton and the steam rolled out with this incredible smell of basil and all sorts of stuff. I almost burned myself on the first bite, I was so eager. Jeez, it's been more than three years since I've even had a slice of pizza. After four slices, I was amazed I was still hungry. I opened up a beer (my only indulgence in the fridge) and sucked that down.

I started rubbing my belly and tried to feel those four slices. By the sixth slice and two more beers, I thought I'd never feel my abs again. I got so hot....I took off my pants like you told me to and felt like a goddamned Buddha--the kind I would always rub for luck whenever we went to a Chinese restaurant down the street--it was supposed to be good luck to rub its belly, but I did it because Buddha reminded me of Uncle Stephen--except Buddha was skinnier than my uncle...I managed to eat one more slice, and thought I'd explode. My breathing was really shallow...I don't think I could have taken a deep breath. I couldn't even bear the thought of taking another sip of beer. Did you ever see the Monty Python sketch from the movie where this really fat guy goes into a restaurant and orders everything on the menu and the waiter offers him an after dinner mint and the guy turns it down, saying he couldn't eat another bite, but the waiter keeps insisting and he finally swallows the mint--and explodes...really gross in the movie, but I thought it was so funny. Anyway, that's the way I felt...I just sort of lay back on the sofa and felt how round and hard my gut was. I was afraid to move because I thought I might throw up or something. I finally feel asleep on the sofa.

When I woke up this morning, my gut had shrunk back to it's normal size and I went out on my morning run.

What are my next orders, Sir?

George:

I'm proud of you for being able to stuff yourself with the pizza the way I ordered. I'M VERY ANGRY ABOUT YOU RUNNING! I order you to stop running in the morning. I don't want a bone in bed--I want a real man that I can reach out and grab and hold onto something when I screw him. I want a nice healthy layer of fat pushing back on my belly when I pull you close I want you to take the time that you've been wasting on your morning runs and spend it fixing a decent breakfast for yourself--you mentioned how you fantasized about waffles and lots of butter and all the things you've been denying yourself all these years. I want you more like your uncle--I want a real man in bed--not a stickman. You have your orders. I expect your next e-mail to tell me about what you've had for breakfast. You have your orders. Now DO IT!

Master Carlos

Dear Master,

I can't believe it...I'm sitting here at my kitchen with my laptop, looking at an empty plate where I wiped it clean with my last biscuit I can't believe I ate so much...I've gotten my jeans unbuttoned and am staring at least an inch of belly stretching out between the button and the button hole, and wondering if I'll be able to zip up my pants in time for my 10am class...

After I got your last e-mail, I went down to the store and picked up some biscuit mix and stuff for waffles. I haven't had waffles since I was a kid...I used to love it when my grandmother would make them. I'd eat them until my stomach would ache...and now like twenty years later here I am with my belly stuffed with waffles again and it feels so good...I knew that waffle iron of my grandmother would come in handy some time, but I never thought it would be to make my belly blow up...I felt so decadent---I even bought some sweetened heavy cream (Bavarian Style) to put in my coffee--after all these years of artificial sweetener and non-fat dairy coffee whiteners, I had forgotten how incredible the coffee tasted with real sugar and the heavy cream....I even looked around as if someone would catch me and took a swig of the sweetened heavy cream right out of the carton--it's so thick I could actually feel it slide down into my stomach...

And it felt so damn good to blow off the morning run...my next orders, Sir?

(and how serious are you about this gaining thing? I mean, maybe a few pounds, but the thought of turning into my uncle Stephen is really scary....and do you think my gut will shrink down soon enough for my 10am class?

George

bellyslave,

You have done well...you just need to get over your initial fear of leaving your skinny-puppy days behind and claiming your true manhood. I wouldn't waste my time with someone whose gut is as flat as his personality. STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM RUNNING! I want you to take a photo of your gut as it presently is...pitiful and weak and little boy...I want to see it grow over the next few months as you really become desirable and sexual...you know you want this. You've always wanted this. You've denied what it is you were meant for. Now you're finally on the right road again and making yourself ready for me. Looking at your profile and my calendar tells me that I will be coming into your area for a conference in three months. When I'm there I want the man you're becoming---not the nothing you are now.

Order your second pizza after reading this e-mail. You know you want it.

DO IT!

Master Carlos

Dear Master,

I have finished my second pizza. This time I really finished it. All of it. I have my pants off and I keep running my hands over my belly, feeling how full it is and how smooth it is. I have this raging hard-on and I keep thinking of my Uncle Stephen and how funny he would think of all this...I can't help wondering if he started this way, too. I've never asked him if he was always so huge, or if he started out as thin as I was and then started gaining weight. I guess I need to go out and buy some new pants, huh? This is very, very scary for me, but incredibly exciting. Two days without running...I haven't done that since I had the flu two years ago and I was too sick to be out there....but I was running on the third day. I know I'm going to be tempted to go out running again tomorrow---I keep waking up at 6am without the alarm because I've been doing it all these years.

I'm also excited about the idea that you're going to be coming into town--I have fantasies about what you said earlier--about how you'd like to pin me against the wall with your belly and push against me and I can't move while you start to roughly kiss me....

I went through the closet and found my camera with a time exposure deal and I'll try to get some film when I go grocery shopping so I can take my "before" picture---jeez a before picture....sounds like I'm really doing this, huh? I mean, what you call a "before" picture is what I've been for such a long time, and I've worked so hard to keep myself this way...

I mean, I know the kind of problems my Uncle Stephen faces because he's so huge...I don't want to live with that....

George

bellyslave!

This is your morning nag wakeup call...keep those damned running shoes underneath your bed!

Good Morning--

I think you should start your day off with something incredibly fattening...after all, you've had nearly 8 hours without eating, and after you attend to morning necessities, that pitiful little belly is just begging to be filled to the point you can barely button your pants...it's screaming out to be stuffed so that you're about to put your belt on its last notch...and that will still be too tight...

And I want you to think about my standing behind you, and if you start to slow down while you are eating that enormous amount of food on your breakfast plate, you would be able to feel my strong and powerful hand grabbing on to your short brown hair and holding on to it while I whisper into your ear with my moist, warm voice, "You're slowing down, babycakes...you wouldn't want to make your Master unhappy, would you? You know that you don't want Me unhappy. I want to be proud of you and see that you're working on that little gut as a gift to Me...I want you to work on that gut as you would work to do your best on any project or job you were responsible for."

And then I want you to start eating faster, feeling phantom wrist restraints tightening around you in a threat of what might happen if you didn't finish every single bite on that plate.....

And afterwards, of course, when you had finished and think you were done, I'd take out the message oil and put the bottle into a cup of hot water until it matched the heat of your body and pour it into my hands...I would have you pull up your shirt to expose that filled swollen gut of yours--and you can look down and become a little frightened about how large it's starting to look--you've never been anywhere near this size before...and I would allow the excess oil to drip in a slow and sensual way onto your rounding gut, and then using a light pressure, I would use my oil-laden hands to make ever increasing circles around your belly--using both hands I would lift up its heaviness and you would moan softly as you felt the shifting. I would whisper in a low, growling voice, "You like getting bigger for your Master, don't you? You'll work hard like this to please Me, won't you?" and as you nod your head yes, I'll take my nails and run them across the slight roll of fat on your side that is starting to hang over the top of your waistband. "I like you so much better as you are growing...I want you to look in the mirror when I'm not here and I want you to get excited to see what it is you are building for Me---how much you're going to please Me when I come back and inspect your work....when I see how much bigger you are..." And then I will pull your hands behind your back with one hand, and with the other I will pick up a glass of the heavy sweetened cream, but this time it has been additionally flavored with vanilla and a touch of cinnamon, and put it to your lips, tipping it back quickly so you are forced to guzzle it, feeling it force your belly out even further, and you can feel the incredible and sexy sensation of the skin on your gut tightening yet again as I reach down and lick the remaining drops of the cream off your lips. "And you will get bigger for your Master, won't you?"

Dear Master,

I have read your last e-mail over and over again and it got me really excited each time. On one level I don't want to gain the weight but the idea of following your orders is something that turns me on. I made it through my third day without running and it still felt great...I did what you told me to do...my breakfast made me feel like I had swallowed a basketball and I just sat there stupid and unable to move for nearly an hour and couldn't believe what I'm doing. I kept imagining your strong hands on me, forcing me to keep eating. I've consumed the new groceries that I bought the first day--I thought sure that I had bought enough to last the whole week. I'm sitting here with my pants unbuttoned so I can breathe...I took the photo that you asked me for...I'll send it to you if you give me your address--I've written down on the back my measurements and my current weight ---I'm now 169 pounds and my thirty inch waist is now pushing past the tape measure past 31...and I'm serious about being unable to unbutton my jeans. I've been going crazy about this all day, and all I can think is the thought of you dominating me and how much that turns me on and how even though I stuffed myself beyond belief this morning, I keep thinking how hungry I am.

your bellyslave...

bellyslave,

I am proud of you...you are following my instructions as you should be. Do as I tell you. Just give yourself over to me and l will guide you in the direction you need to be going. Your gut is talking to you and it's saying feed me because you need to eat and grow---you need to grow into the person you need to become.

I want to pull your growing little gut close to me. I want to rip off your shirt and rub my hot sweaty belly against yours, feeling how soft you're getting while your dick is getting hard. I want to grab onto those swelling pecs of yours, holding on to the results of those big breakfasts and the bigger dinners that you'll be eating. I want to pull you so close that your body starts to merge with mine and we share our increasing weight together. I want to reach behind you and take your rounding ass in my large hands and squeeze hard enough to make you cry out. I want to chain your wrists to a chair and start to feed you until you feel more full than you've ever felt before. I would blindfold you and slowly,slowly feed you one spoonful at a time--I would feed you a bite of something sweet, then something sour, then something salty, asking you to truly feel their textures and the full extent of the flavors, so you understand food on levels you never thought possible....I would ask you to think about each one of these bites and ask you to identify them...is this creme brule? Is this lemon cream or key lime pie? Is this avocado dip? I would ask you to identify the ingredients...is there cinnamon in this or is it nutmeg? Spoon after spoon, bite after bite, swallow after swallow all with the blindfold on so you can't tell how many bowl-fulls you've eaten and you can't see, but you can feel how your gut is beginning to brush against the edge of the table, and you can get a little frightened by how out of control you feel, but you can get to another level of reality you can better understand how truly in control you are. Now go eat something of your own choosing until you can't eat anymore. I'm attaching my address so you can send me your before picture and one day we'll laugh at how pitiful and skinny you once were before you grew into a real man....

Master Carlos

Master---

I don't understand...I look in the mirror and I look at all the boxes and jars and bags....all empty and I can't believe that all that food is now inside of me. I know my life is going on--I do my papers and my reports and there's a cream-filled doughnut in one hand, or a jar of honey-roasted nuts and I look at the clock and think it's only one hour before my next meal, or maybe it's only 22 minutes before I get to eat again. and I look in the mirror and I keep thinking how huge my gut looks and what it would feel like to have your strong arms around me, playing with my softening tits and the love handles that are growing that I keep wanting you to squeeze. I want you to hold me close and rub your stubble against the back of my neck while you tell me how proud you are of me. I took the second set of pictures this afternoon and I couldn't even pull my old jeans up over my thighs...I just wore my Calvins and set the automatic timer. My waist is now 34 and my weight is now up to 187....and I can hardly wait for dinner...I can't believe all this....