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I realized that Byron was a bit of a slob not long after we started rooming together. His thick, curly brown ringlets soon became greasy and longer. He shaved on occasion and rarely wore more than undershorts, revealing thick curly chest and belly hair, almost as thick as on his head. His room was strewn with piles of stuff and clothes within a matter of days, yet, oddly, he kept the kitchen spotless. This contradiction fascinated me almost as much as his body. He was very tall, almost six-five, muscular, but with some pudginess that suggested that he had been a fat child. He shoveled down food at a prodigious rate, cooking and cleaning up every night what made me want to eat more than usual, but I kept my portions small, trying to stay under 300 pounds on my five-ten frame. He flounced around a bit much for my taste, which I found hard to believe for someone his height; we had admitted being gay to each other immediately, one of the reasons we thought we could share an apartment uptown away from the French Quarter where we had met. |
About six months after we had moved in, I came home early one afternoon and found him still eating lunch at three o’clock. He was standing over a pile of hotdogs in buns with a bowl of water, stuffing one after another down. Soggy remains of buns were everywhere with mustard and ketchup slopping out of bowls and onto the floor. Grease, mustard and ketchup matted his chest hair, running down to his navel. His belly bowed out, swollen like a balloon.
"What’cha doin’?” I asked.
"Seeing how many I can eat,” he said.
"Looks like you’re about to explode,” I said, getting hard as I watched him breathing shallowly and gulping down another hotdog.
"That’s twenty-eight,” he gasped. "I thought I could make thirty this time, but I don’t think so, now.” He belched weakly.
"That should clear a little space,” I commented. "Want me to help?”
"I’m not sure you can,” Byron said. "There doesn’t seem to be any more room.”
I touched his tight belly and massaged it a bit, feeling the tight muscles under the hair, slime, and a skin thicker than I expected. He moaned just a bit, and his crotch started to swell.
"You do this often?” I asked, stuffing another wet hotdog and bun into his mouth. He bit and swallowed large pieces, forcing each down with a rhythmic jerk. Hotdog twenty-nine was gone, and he gasped for air. I slid my hand down his belly, pinching the roll of fat there and reaching into the band of his undershorts.
"No, only when I’m so horny I can’t stand it any longer,” Byron said. "Keep going.” He took hotdog thirty and started stuffing it into his mouth while I stripped off his shorts. Hotdog thirty-one and two followed quickly. His breathing was short, and he was sweating profusely. I pushed two more hotdogs into him and thought he might faint. I held his erection as it oozed in my hand, thinking of hotdogs and his pregnant belly.
"Are you able to keep all this down?” I asked.
"No, it usually comes up much sooner than this, but I’m holding it in okay, now.”
"If you promise to hold it in, I’ll go down on you,” I said.
"I’ll try,” he whispered, panting, holding hotdog thirty-five for a few seconds before devouring it.
His intestines gurgled loudly in my ear as I rolled a condom onto his cock and began sucking, my short blond hair poking into his belly curls. I rubbed the swollen curve of his belly, pulling on the matted curls under his pecs and massaging the tightest points. He chocked a little and tried to breath evenly.
"I’m keeping it down,” he whispered between gasps for air. I grabbed his buttocks and sucked vigorously until he came.
"You better lay down and let me massage that,” I said, leading my bloated roommate to my bed. He lay on his right side, and I rubbed his long curving swell.
He groaned, "I can’t believe I broke my record by that much. I think I’ll die.”
"Naw,” I said, "but you’ll be swollen for a while. Did you eat like this as a kid?”
"Yeah, I was a real porker until I started growing, then I held it in check, except every once in a while when I’d really pig out.”
"If you do this very often, you’ll develop a shape like mine,” I said, "not that I mind my shape, but it’s cumbersome sometimes.” His erection jumped to attention. "I see you like the idea,” I commented, fondling his erection.
"You bet! I’d like nothing more than eating huge amounts every day and seeing how much I’d swell up. I’d like a gut that flowed across the bed and onto the floor. Why don’t you swing around here and let me suck your dick.”
I handed him the condom and lay down with my belly against his chest. He rolled on the condom and sucked mightily while I held onto his slackening erection and kissed his belly.
We woke later, entwined, but face to face.
"Are you serious about putting on a big belly?” I asked.
"Yeap, if you’ll help, and find it sexy,” Byron said.
"I’ll go make you a milkshake,” I said. "We don’t want that swelling to go down,” as I patted his belly.
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