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Hondo stared into the mirror, the natural plumpness of his lips amplified by his dismayed pout. He ran a hand through his thick, chocolate brown hair, heaving a heavy sigh as his other hand moved down over the smooth curve of his belly.
He was fat.
It was undeniable. His pecs, while never very developed, had started to swell and sag under their own weight. His stomach, once flat although not particularly defined, bulged over the waistband of his briefs, at the moment the only clothes he wore and the only clothes the still fit moderately comfortably. A soft layer of fat had begun to have a generally softening effect on his entire frame, rounding his face, doubling his chin, and so forth.
It had been going on for more than a few months now, but he’d intentionally never really given the matter much thought. He’d continued to eat the rich, extensive meals that Fabian prepared so well, continued to squeeze into the same clothes despite the protest of their strained buttons, zippers and seams, continued to lie to himself about his own obesity. But now, confronted by the rather irrefutable evidence presented by his mirror and the fact that most of his clothes were now boycotting his body on the grounds of no longer fitting, Hondo couldn’t continue to avoid it.
Hondo felt at a loss as to what do about the situation. What time he had left over after school and work he spent with Fabian or their friends, leaving him little of no time for exercise. Not that he particularly enjoyed exercise anyway. He’d never had the proper motivation (or need) for it before, and didn’t have the proper equipment for it at home. Gyms had always scared him, especially now with his new(ly acknowledged) gut.
And dieting . . . Dieting wasn’t really an option. Fabian was a chef. Well, not really. Once he graduated from culinary school and got some real restaurant experience, he’d be a chef. Right now, he just aspired to chef-hood. Anyway, Fabian didn’t just like to cook, he liked to cook for Hondo. It was one of his favorite ways to express affection for his partner. To watch Hondo eat and enjoy his food seemed to bring him great pleasure.
Hondo remembered the first time he’d suggested they go out to eat, not too long after they’d been together for a while. At first, Fabian was a little hurt, although he’d tried not to show it. He’d acquiesced to Hondo’s request and they’d gone out to a restaurant.
The food was ‘okay’ and the atmosphere ‘nice’, but Hondo had found himself missing their dinners for two. In the privacy of their home, they could have eaten an intimate dinner and maybe been intimate shortly after.
It was there, however, that they made an interesting discovery. They’d ordered different dishes, and whenever Fabian found something of interest about his meal, the way it was seasoned or some process or other that the chef must have done to get it just so, he’d scoop up a piece between his fingers and pop it into Hondo’s mouth. Hondo, after licking Fabian’s fingers clean, would agree that whatever was done to it, it tasted very good.
While the rest of the restaurant’s clientele hadn’t particularly appreciated this display, they’d seemed to find it interesting in a morbid fashion. While Hondo was very self-conscious the entire time, Fabian’s utter lack of concern for the opinions of strangers carried him through the evening. It had been a surprisingly arousing experience for both of them, and Hondo’s inhibitions fell completely when Fabian felt compelled to sate this pent-up hunger in the restaurant’s restroom, steaming up the mirror and filling the small room with their muggy scents.
Needless to say, they didn’t eat at that particular restaurant anymore, or wouldn’t if they still dined out. But the feeding had become of their dining and love-making, and had probably added to Hondo’s growing girth.
So wrapped up in his whirl or angst and memory was Hondo that he didn’t notice Fabian until his partner’s slender hands slipped around his widening waist from behind, his chin resting on Hondo’s softened shoulder as he pressed his bare chest against Hondo’s plump back.
"Breakfast is ready,” he murmured, nuzzling Hondo’s neck slowly. He’d heard the shower stop ages ago and wondered what was keeping Hondo, but he was pleased to find his lover still unclothed and looking so delectable and vulnerable in his too small briefs.
"I know,” Hondo said, rustling Fabian’s long blonde hair. "I could smell it all the way up here. I was gonna get dressed and come down in a minute.”
"You could save us both some time and not bother,” Fabian smiled dreamily as his hands moved over the swell of Hondo’s tummy. "We’ll both be out of our clothes long before we’ve finished eating.”
"I know, but . . . ” Hondo trailed off, the feelings induced by Fabian’s actions hushing his protests. His arms fell limply over Fabian’s as he fell under his sway.
"You know, you look so good like this,” Fabian said, his ministrations moving from Hondo’s tummy to cup and fondle his burgeoning breasts, teasing his tumescent nipples. The warmth inspired by Fabian’s caresses swelled and surged, causing Hondo’s member to stiffen and his briefs to tent.
"R-really?” Hondo asked, turning his head toward Fabian’s.
Fabian kissed him on the edge of his mouth. "Really really.”
Fabian, having decided to expound upon his first kiss with several others along Hondo’s cheek and neck, replied, Why what?”
"Why do you like me like this?”
"Well,” Fabian repeated, "you look good.”
Their conversations were often like this. Fabian felt, Hondo thought. Fabian preferred physical displays and action, Hondo preferred words and reflection. Hondo loved Fabian for it, but sometimes, likes now, it threatened to drive him insance.
With something of a start, Hondo realized he could feel Fabian’s erection pressing against him through the cloth of his jeans.
"I don’t understand,” Hondo said, not understanding Fabian’s reaction to his weight gain or his own reaction to Fabian’s interest.
Fabian moved around Hondo, continuing his run of kisses down Hondo’s bare shoulder and chest whilst his hands ran down his sides, fondling his budding love-handles. He stopped briefly to lick an erect nipple, sending a warm shudder down Hondo’s spine. He’d never felt quite so . . . so sensitive before.
"I like you like this,” Fabian explained, rising from his knees and placing his hands on either side of Hondo’s stomach, "soft and warm.”
He leant across the curve of Hondo’s tummy, giving him a languorous kiss, his hands displaying his affection for Hondo’s newfound attributes. Finally, Hondo’s confusion dissolved. He began to returned Fabian’s embrace with a bit more enthusiasm.
He was surprised when Fabian slipped out of his grasp, saying, "Now come on, breakfast is going to start getting cold. "
"Right,” Hondo said, lumbering after his slender lover, down the stairs and toward the kitchen, seduced by the promise of good food and the possibility of good sex. It was getting so he couldn’t see the difference between the two anymore.
And that was how Hondo liked it.
The characters' names I borrowed from a children's story about a dog and a cat named Hondo and Fabian, respectively. I've always thought they'd be the perfect name for a gainer and encourager and have only just gotten to use them.
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