Originally published June 8, 2019.
Contains: accelerated weight gain, direct encouraging.
This idea evolved out of conversations between MysteriesOfMe and me, where we came up with the idea of a place that lets you experience your deepest, darkest fantasy, even if it’s one that you might not know you have. And even if it’s one that conflicts with how you currently live your life. Of course, just as with real life, if you fixate too much on your fantasy, it starts to bleed into your reality, whether you like it or not. And that’s the problem our hero, Tito, finds himself in, after he walks into his room at the Fantasy Palace and finds himself about a hundred pounds heavier.
Darnell let out a massive yawn before he resumed breathing heavily. Not that he’d done anything particularly physically strenuous recently. In fact, all he’d done for the past hour was sit naked on the couch and stuff his face with whatever foods his greedy stomach desired. Pizzas and grilled cheese sandwiches and mac ‘n’ cheese and subs and burritos and whatever else he wanted. It was enough to leave a big guy like him winded from the effort of eating for that long. But for food that delicious, he was willing to power through.
Darnell was nearly as big as the couch that creaked under all his weight any time he shifted to get his big body comfortable. His arms were thicker than a lot of people’s waistlines, while his legs were thicker than most of them. Both were encased in so much fat that it folded over itself like a messy blanket. And yet they were paltry in comparison to his gargantuan belly, which likely weighed more than he had, once upon a time. It sloped down away from his chest and in between his legs, where his massive overhang pushed his legs apart and hid his dick, or rather the fat pad that had swallowed it. His chest spilled out in a similar way, flowing down over the sides of his gut as it fell victim to gravity. And on top of it all, a thick ring of fat wrapped around his face, connecting his chubby cheeks and a double chin that jiggled as he chewed.
The remote lay next to Darnell on the couch, as did a few controller for different game consoles. But they’d all been left untouched since he sat down. Sometimes he liked watching TV as he ate, mindlessly filling his belly. Sometimes he liked gaming as he ate, the excitement making him eat faster. But that day, he just wanted to focus on all the food he was eating, how delicious it tasted and how it felt as it slowly filled up his stomach. It took a lot of food to satisfy a guy as big as him, but he was finally reaching that point.
At Darnell’s size, his belly didn’t seem to grow much when he was full, no matter how much he ate. Even with the pounds upon pounds of food that he had crammed into stomach, his massive food baby could barely be seen under all the layers of blubber. And yet, he could certainly feel it, as he swallowed the last bite of his third pizza before leaning back with a grunt and a groan. Lethargically, he let his hands land on his blubbery belly, rubbing his soft, bouncy flab and enjoying just how stuffed he was. He loved his heft, and he loved the sensation of being stuffed with more food then a small family could eat in a day. Together, the feelings were sheer ecstasy. He never grew tired of them.
But he was growing tired. And he knew falling asleep on that couch could cost him a lot. And so, he inched his way over to the side, before using the armrest to push himself up. It was no easy task pushing all that weight up into a standing position, but Darnell still managed it, and stood in the middle of the living room breathing like he’d just run a mile. His second mile was coming as he started waddling toward the door. Moving inch by inch, he slowly made his way there, his mouth hanging open and stretching the ring of blubber suspended beneath it. His girth seemed to bounce up and down more than it moved forward, but with a lot of determination, he finally reached the door. With a few more heavy breaths, he reached out and opened it.
Darnell opened the door to a hallway decorated in red and black, with several other doors lining it in both directions. To his left was the lobby, his destination now that his session was over. Stepping out, he closed the door behind him before buttoning his jacket. He liked his jackets snug, as those showed off his slender body better. But that night, it felt a little too snug as he pulled the sides together to button it. “Hmmm…” he murmured as he clasped the buttons. It usually didn’t fit any more tightly after a session, so the fact that it did that night gave him pause. After buttoning the last button, he made his way to the entrance, passing by the other doors at a brisk pace.
Soon he found himself in the lobby, which was empty as usual, save for Mako.
“All set?” she asked Darnell.
“I see you only stayed for an hour and a half. No nap this time?”
“Nope. Can’t afford to make that mistake again when you charge by the hour.”
“Fair enough,” she said as she ran Darnell’s credit card. Once the transaction went through, she handed him a slip to sign. With his signature on it, he traded the slip for his card and put it in his wallet. “Hey Mako,” he said as he pocketed it.
“You probably won’t be seeing me for a while. I’m usually good at compartmentalizing the fantasy, but that last session is lingering a little too much for my liking.”
“Ah, yep. Gotta be careful about that,” she said as she nodded. With a smile, Darnell turned around to leave, as Mako called out, “I hope we see you soon, but not too soon!”
Darnell gave her a thumbs up as he walked out into the cold winter night.
Tito looked down at his phone as he walked through an unfamiliar neighborhood, following his GPS. There were few other people on the street with him, aside from the occasional car driving by and occasional pedestrian who wouldn’t look him in the eyes. It didn’t feel like a dangerous neighborhood, but it wasn’t the kind of place he would have gone on his own. The buildings didn’t look dilapidated, but they didn’t look decorated either, like the those who lived there weren’t planning on settling down.
Pulling up his messaging app, Tito messaged Darnell, “What kind of place are you sending me to?”
Darnell was quick to respond. “The kind that’ll give you what you’re looking for. If I tell you any more than that, it’ll spoil the surprise.”
Rolling his eyes, Tito messaged back, “I mean, “Fantasy Palace?” It sounds like the name of a brothel.”
“I assure you I would not send you to a brothel without first telling you that it’s a brothel.”
“Then what it is?”
“Just trust me.”
Tito let out an aggravated sigh before he closed his messages, pulling the GPS back up. It looked like he was close to this “Fantasy Palace”. All he had to do was walk a little farther down the street and turn a corner.
When he looked up, he saw that the final “street” in his route looked more like an alleyway. It was barely wide enough to drive a car down, making him nervous about heading in. With a loud exhalation, he leaned his head in and looked down the corner.
Tito saw trash bins and fire escapes down the street. It at the end, he saw what looked like a storefront, with a dimly lit neon sign that read “Fantasy Palace”’ in green. Tito had half believed that it wouldn’t be a real place, but there it was, behind a metal door with a tinted glass window. Walking carefully down the street, he maneuvered around the garbage barrels, bending his skinny body around them. Soon he was close enough to read “Open 24 hours” on the door. That made him pause, but he’d come this far. With a loud inhalation, he grabbed the handle and opened it.
The building inside was nothing like what Tito had expected from the exterior. A red carpet lead from the door to the back of the room, with a row of empty chairs on his left side and the reception desk on his right. Behind the desk sat a young woman who looked up as he came in. “Hello, welcome to the Fantasy Palace. Is this your first time visiting us?”
“Yes,” Tito responded hesitantly, barely moving from the doorway. “A, uh, a friend of mine recommended that I come here. He told me you could… ‘give me what I’m looking for,’ though he didn’t elaborate on what that even meant. W-with all due respect, what do you guys do here?”
“Well, come on over so I don’t have to shout and I’ll tell you.”
Tito walked slowly through the lobby, intimidated by the black and red decor that surrounded him. The woman had a friendly smile that he felt should have put him at ease, but such a genial expression in such an uninviting environment merely made him feel more unnerved. Once he got close, he put his hand on top of the desk and looked down at the name placard. “Mako,” it said. Nervously, he looked Mako in her eyes.
“That’s better,” Mako said in a softer voice. Leaning closer to Tito and resting her chin on the back of her hand, she said, “Now, exactly how much did your friend tell you about us?”
“Nothing other than what I already told you. He said that if he told me anything, it would ‘ruin the surprise’.”
“‘The surprise’, huh?” she repeated. “Do you want to be surprised?”
“I don’t even know anymore,” Tito sighed.
“Well, I’ll tell you what: we can give you a two-minute free trial to let you see whether you like the experience. If you do, I can explain more.”
That sounded surprisingly appealing to Tito. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but if it was free, what did he have to lose? “That sounds pretty good… what’s the catch?”
“The catch is you only get two minutes, Sherlock, now do you want to try it or not?”
“Um, uh–sure,” Tito blurted out.
“Wonderful,” Mako replied, before she started typing on her keyboard. After a swift strike of the enter key, She looked back over with a smile and said, “Room 15 is ready for you, sir.”
“Uh, thank you. So I just… go in?”
“And what do I do then?”
“That I cannot tell you. You’ll have to decide that for yourself.”
“Right,” Tito snarked, frustrated by the continued secrecy. But he supposed he’d set himself up for it by agreeing to try the service before Mako explained it. Looking at the other side of the lobby, he saw that the door to room 15 was right in front of him. It was black like the rest of the decor, with golden numbers displaying the number 15. The doorknob was a similar golden color, but probably made of a metal that could hold up better to constant touching. With a sigh, Tito walked up to the door, slowly turned the knob, and peered inside.
On the other side of the door was a kitchen, one that looked awfully similar to his own. In fact, the more Tito looked around inside, the more he realized that the room looked exactly like his kitchen, down to the most minute of details, like the crack in the cabinet door above the toaster oven. Unnerved by this realization, Tito looked back to Mako and asked, “Hey, what’s the deal with this?”
“I can’t say sir,” she replied without looking up. “For privacy reasons, I’m not privy to the contents of the room, nor what happens inside.”
“But this room looks exactly like my own kitchen.”
“Does it? Well, that kind of thing does happen sometimes. Still, you won’t know what’s in store for you until you step inside.”
“What do you mean?” Tito asked, stepping inside as he did. He wanted to take a closer look, try to see how they’d managed to replicate his kitchen so exactly.
But as soon as Tito crossed the threshold of the door, he felt an unfamiliar weight bouncing around his torso. He also felt that he wasn’t moving as far with each footstep, in spite of putting just as much effort into walking as he usually did. It was a strange sensation, on top of an already strange situation. He looked down, wondering what could be causing such a feeling.
What Tito saw startled him. He looked 100 pounds heavier, with a noticeable belly around his previously flat midsection, a chest that jutted out with its own volume, and arms that had flabbed out too. He couldn’t see whether his legs were any wider, as his protruding belly got in the way. But what he did see was enough to send him stumbling back, passing through the door to room 15 before he fell on his rear end on the carpet. Once he got his bearings, he looked down and saw that, to his relief, his body was back to the way it had been. No moobs, no belly, skinny arms, and so on.
“Well that didn’t last long,” Mako observed. “You still have a minute and a half left.”
“What the hell…” was the only response Tito could muster. “…was that?”
“You tell me, sir. Again, I’m not privy to it.”
“Fine. But I think you owe me an explanation.”
“Why, because you’re a ‘paying customer’?” she asked sarcastically.
Tito raised his hand to reply yes, before soon remembering that he hadn’t paid a dime yet. “Fine, fine,” he said in a much more measured voice. “Could you please… kindly explain to me what happens in those rooms?”
“Gladly,” she said, turning her chair to face him. “Here at the Fantasy Palace, we can turn your wildest dreams into a tangible reality. Each room is capable of manifesting even the most improbable and convoluted fantasies in a way that feels as real as you or me. For an hourly fee, you get to stay in this fantasy as long as you please.”
“Okay. So how do I choose what fantasy I experience?”
“Well, you really can’t, sir. You might say the fantasy chooses you.”
“And what does that mean?”
“In short, there is no way to choose what fantasy the room manifests. I’ve heard reports from customers that they were able to influence what fantasy they got by fixating on it before they entered the room. But at the end of the day, it seems that the room will reflect whatever your deepest fantasy is.”
“That can’t be,” Tito insisted. “When I went in there… well, let’s just say that what happened was something I would never want to happen.”
“You may think that now, sir. But we’ve had countless people have a reaction like yours to what they saw in their room, only to later admit that it was something they did want deep down. I’m not saying that’s absolutely going to be the case for you,” she said that she put her hands in the air, palms facing Tito. “But give it time, and you just might find yourself warming up to what you saw.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tito replied, now back on his feet and walking toward the door. This time, he opened it without hesitation, swinging in the door wide open and expecting to see his kitchen again. But instead, all he saw was a small, empty room, a good deal smaller than his kitchen. He turned back to Mako and asked, “What happened to the kitchen?”
“Your free trial is up, sir. If you want more time, you have to pay for it.”
“Alright, how much does it cost?”
“$80 an hour, with a $20 minimum.”
“Eighty dollars an hour?!” Tito echoed in disbelief.
“Now, you can either prepay for a certain amount of time, which does have the downside that your fantasy experience could end while you’re in the middle of it. Or you can leave a debit or credit card with us, and be charged for however long you stay in. Most customers opt for the second choice.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t get past the fact that you just told me it’ll cost me $80 to be fa–to experience that again.”
“This technology isn’t cheap, sir.”
Tito didn’t like admitting it to himself, but he did want to go back in the room. Maybe being 100 pounds heavier was just the start of his fantasy, and it would evolve into something he enjoyed more. Sure, Mako’s claims seemed ridiculous, but the room had perfectly matched his kitchen and convinced him that he had put on a substantial amount of weight. Maybe it could really tap into some fantasy that he didn’t know. “Alright,” he finally said. “Do you take cash?”
“We sure do.”
Not wanting a location like that to show up on his credit card bill, Tito reached into his wallet and pulled out a $20 bill, which he handed to Mako. Taking out a marker, she drew on the bill, and when it came out clear, she nodded and put it away.
“Did you just check a $20 to see if it was counterfeit?”
“It’s company policy: we have to check all cash that goes through our hands to make sure it’s real. Granted, most people who pay in cash use much bigger bills,” she said with a smile. “You’re in room 15 again. Your time begins when you open the door.”
With a nod, Tito approached the door again, this time more resolute in his purpose. Turning the knob, he pulled the door open, and once again beheld a room that looked exactly like his own kitchen. It had a new sort of strange familiarity to it, now that he’d seen it in the Fantasy Palace before. With a deep breath, Tito took a step over the threshold, and immediately felt himself become heavier yet again. This time, he had the presence of mind to close the door behind himself.
Looking down, Tito saw that his body looked the same as it had when he first walked into the room, with a belly adorning his previously flat stomach. He looked like he’d stuffed a small pillow in his tee shirt. Reflexively, he reached down to pull his shirt down, only to be surprised that it was already covering his entire belly. It seemed his shirt had grown with him upon entering the room. Sticking his thumb into the side of his pants, he discovered that they had grown too, fitting him with a comfortable amount of looseness, even though his waist had grown too.
Tito stood around for a few seconds, wondering when the fantasy part of this fantasy would start. His answer came in an unexpected form: an unfamiliar voice shouting out, “Honey, is that you?”
Tito froze in place. A single man for the previous two years, he had no idea who could be calling him by a pet name. Then he remembered that this was his fantasy: of course he had a partner. “Yep, I’m home.”
“Oh, good to hear. Dinner’s just about ready.”
With furrowed brows, Tito looked around the kitchen a bit more. When he looked at the stove, he saw that there was something different about this kitchen. Mainly, the number of pots and pans on the stove. Tito walked over to take a look at what was cooking, slowed down by the extra weight he was carrying. He wasn’t used to moving with these extra hundred pounds, and he found that putting his usual amount of effort into walking resulted in him walking at a slower pace than he usually did.
“Wait, babe, what are you doing?” Tito heard before he saw an unfamiliar man run at him from the hallway. He was just a bit taller than Tito, with a muscular frame and closely-cut hair. His jaw was chiseled like it had been carved from granite. He ran up to Tito, putting himself between Tito and the stove. “You don’t want to spoil the surprise, do you?”
“Um… I guess not,” Tito sputtered out.
“Oh, my silly little bear,” the man said before embracing Tito in a tight hug. It made Tito a little uncomfortable at first, being embraced by this man who was still a stranger to him, but he liked the affection. What he didn’t like was when the man reached down and grabbed Tito’s belly, giving it a few squeezes. “So hungry that you can’t even wait for dinner to find out what you’re eating. Don’t worry, though. I made something I know you’ll like, or my name’s not Edgar.”
As Edgar turned to face the stove and tend to the food a bit, Tito stood still, not sure what to make of Edgar’s show of affection for his belly. He tried to keep his shock inside, but he was pretty sure his mouth hanging agape gave it away. However, he closed his mouth when he heard the timer go off.
“Ah, they’re done!” Edgar announced before he put on an oven mitt and opened the oven, taking out a baking tray full of quesadillas. They were nearly an inch thick, and nearly a dozen in number.
Though Tito usually tried to stay away from such rich food, he had to admit they looked delicious. “Wow. Those look amazing… dear.”
“Isn’t that why you started dating me?” Edgar teased, before he picked up one with a spatula. “Still a bit too hot. Need to give it time to cool.” Looking back at Tito with his eyelids lowered, Edgar continued, “I know what we can do in the meantime.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Edgar teased, before he walked right up to Tito again and shoved his hands up Tito’s shirt, fondling and caressing his belly eagerly. “Mmmmm, love this belly you’ve been growing for me.”
“You’re such a good fatty, getting bigger gleefully for me, dutifully eating everything I cook you and more. And it’s all, gone, here,” Edgar said as he patted Tito’s gut, saying the last three words in rhythm with his pats. Edgar was too confused to object to what was happening. The idea that being fat would be his fantasy was strange enough, but someone loving him because of it? And intentionally making him fatter? How would that be his fantasy?
But the more Edgar rubbed Tito’s gut, the more he found himself less perturbed by the attention. In fact, as touch starved as he was from his two years of being single, he found himself enjoying it in a way. Which was also not something he expected to be a part of his fantasy. But this experience had already been so full of surprises that he was willing to lean into it, let it happen, and see where it went.
“You okay, dear?”
As Edgar stopped rubbing, Tito looked back at him and saw concern in his eyes. He surprised himself by placing his own hands on Edgar’s, with his shirt between them, and moving them around his belly again. He was even more surprised by what came out of his mouth next, but it felt surprisingly natural: “I’m okay. Just stressed out from work. You can keep doing that. It’s helping.”
Edgar’s concerned expression bloomed into a smile. It grew further into a toothy grin as he started moving his hands along Tito’s belly again. “You must be so hungry after such a hard day.”
“I could certainly go for some dinner. Those quesadillas smell really good.”
“Don’t they? And I bet they’ve cooled off enough to eat now,” Edgar said before he turned back to the stove and picked one up with a spatula. Taking it in his hand, he held it up to Tito’s mouth and said, “Open up.”
Tito did as instructed, before Edgar shoved the quesadillas in his mouth far more aggressively than he was expecting. Almost on reflex, Tito took a big bite, chewing into the thick delicacy. It was chock-full of chicken, mixed with enough vegetables for flavor, and all held in by plenty of gooey cheese. It was far more rich and fattening than anything Tito ever ate on his own. But this was a fantasy, and he was going to let himself enjoy it.
It seemed Edgar was even more eager for Tito to enjoy his quesadillas. Tito had barely finished chewing and swallowing the first bite before Edgar shoved it in his mouth again, making him take a big bite out of what remained. By then, Tito was expecting it, and he chewed quicky to make room for another bite, which Edgar gleefully supplied. In just a few more bites, the first quesadilla was gone. Tito let out a quiet moan of enjoyment as he chewed the last of it, swallowing and letting out a gasp. He was surprised by how heavily he was breathing, but he had to admit that what had just happened was pretty intense.
But Edgar, it seemed, wasn’t about to let up. Picking another quesadilla, Edgar folded it in half to allow Tito to get twice as much per bite. Tito tried bite off less to compensate, but he still ended up with a mouth so full of quesadilla that he couldn’t close his lips all the way. But he chewed obediently, until his mouth was emptied of the delicious dish. Of course, Edgar was ready to play his part, and shoved the folded quesadilla between Tito’s lips again, forcing him to bite off more. But Tito was eager to take another bite, and did so happily, until the second quesadilla had disappeared into his stomach.
Tito let out a sigh after he’d swallowed the last bite. “Ooof. I’m feeling pretty full, babe.”
“And when have we ever let that stop you?” Edgar said as he picked up a third quesadilla. He didn’t fold it over itself, but that didn’t prepare Tito any more for when Edgar shoved it in his mouth yet again. And yet, Tito found himself still wanting to eat it. In part, because the quesadilla tasted so delicious. But he also found the feeling of being full surprisingly pleasant, satisfying even. And with every bite of the quesadilla that hit his stomach, as it stretched a bit more to accommodate his meal, that feeling of satisfaction became a little stronger. Tito was curious to see how far he could go with it.
The answer turned out to be that he could go all the way with it. Tito got into a rhythm eating the quesadillas as Edgar kept feeding him them. His eyelids fell slowly as he ate, enraptured by the taste of the quesadillas and the feeling of Edgar rubbing his belly. Edgar’s encouraging words only sunk Tito deeper into his ecstacy: “Keep on eating. I know you have more room.” “Doesn’t that feel good, tubby?” “Eat for me. Grow for me.” Something deep in Tito felt like he shouldn’t have enjoyed being spoken to like that, but he wasn’t going to deny that he enjoyed it.
So Tito kept eating, until the last of the quesadillas disappeared into his obedient mouth. Edgar kept rubbing his belly, but was silent as Tito chewed the last of the dish. It wasn’t until Tito swallowed the last of it that he got any inkling that this was strange. He opened his eyes slowly, as they felt like they were being weighed down by the massive mound of food he’d stuffed into his gut.
“What a good tubby boy. You cleared the whole sheet.”
Tito opened his eyes and saw that the baking tray was indeed empty. Looking down, he was surprised to see that his belly had grown enough to look 20 pounds heavier. It was now sticking out of his shirt at the bottom, bloated from all the quesadillas he’d eaten. He felt like he was carrying a boulder in his gut, which wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected. Especially as Edgar started rubbing his belly even more enthusiastically.
“Feel this big, fat belly. Feel just how full it is, stuffed to the brim with all that cheese and chicken and grease. You’re going to get fat, my big boy, very fat.”
The last bit of Tito left that felt like this was somehow wrong was silenced by Tito’s moans. He wanted more. He wanted Edgar to feed him more, to egg him on more, to tell him what a good boy he was. He wanted Edgar’s hands all over his massive belly, wanted his attention and approval. He wanted to make Edgar proud.
So he was quite disappointed when he opened his eyes and saw that he was no longer in his kitchen with Edgar. Rather, he was alone a featureless room, painted grey and illuminated by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was smaller than his kitchen, more similar in size to a walk-in closet. Looking around, he saw that Edgar was nowhere to be found. Looking down, he was even more disappointed to see that his belly has disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared when he entered the room.
Tito leaned forward, readjusted to account for a weight that was no longer there. Looking around, he saw that the door out of the room now looked like how it did on the other side. As he walked over to it, he found himself moving faster than he was used to, now that a load had literally been taken off of him. With a sigh, he slowly turned the knob and stepped back into the lobby.
Mako perked up immediately upon seeing Tito. “How was your first time?”
“It was… really nice,” Tito admitted, more to himself than to her. She was probably used to hearing their customers say they enjoyed experiencing their deepest fantasy. Meanwhile, he was still getting used to the idea that what he’d just experienced was his deepest fantasy. In spite of his disbelief, he couldn’t deny that the voice deep down that had previously told him this couldn’t be his fantasy, was now replaced by a desire to experience the whole thing again. “I wish it hadn’t ended so abruptly, though.”
“Understandable. That’s the risk of paying upfront rather than leaving a card at the desk. Of course, if you leave a card, you run the risk of letting the fantasy go on for so long that you rack up a rather hefty bill. Especially since you’re experiencing your deepest fantasy, and likely won’t be thinking about leaving. It’s up to you which risk you’re more comfortable with.”
“I see,” Tito said, ambling toward the desk so he and Mako wouldn’t have to talk so loudly. “So… do you have many repeat customers?”
“Oh of course. Sure, some fantasies are perfectly satisfying when experienced only once. But a lot of folks, once they get a taste of something they haven’t allowed themselves to have, they want more.” Looking up, Mako smiled at Tito and asked, “Might you become one of them?”
“You know,” Tito said, “I just might.”
Tito wasn’t able to make it back to the Fantasy Palace until the next weekend. In the meantime, he’d spent much of his waking hours thinking about what he’d experienced behind the Palace’s closed doors. The attention Edgar had given his belly, how good the quesadillas were, how much he enjoyed being fat and being loved for it. He knew he’d want to back, but he was surprised that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. When he woke up Saturday morning, it felt like Christmas had come.
Tito arrived at the Fantasy Palace and left $300 in cash with the front desk. He didn’t want to have to worry about his fantasy terminating prematurely. If it did, he knew he’d have nearly four hours of fantasy, plenty of time to have a satisfying experience. With the price paid, he walked to his assigned room and opened the door.
Tito opened the door and beheld his own kitchen once again. Pots and pans occupied the stove yet again, while other signs of cooking were strewn around the counters. As he stepped over the threshold, Tito became immediately fatter, as he expected. He looked how he did when he’d entered the room the first time. But this time, he knew what part he had to play: “Honey, I’m home!”
Edgar sauntered into the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Welcome home, my honey bear,” he said, before giving Tito a tight hug. Before letting his hands down, Edgar dropped them onto Tito’s love handles and shook them. “Wait until you see what I have in store for you tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” Tito asked, finding himself instinctively pushing his belly out a bit to give Edgar more to play with. “Whatcha cookin?”
“Just a five course meal, all for you,” Edgar answered proudly and he squeezed the sides of Tito’s belly, before giving it a few pats.
“All for me?” Tito asked in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“Well, of course. But most of it is for you.”
“Well then, time’s a wastin’, and the food is getting cold as we speak. Let’s eat!”
“Mmmm, I love your enthusiasm,” Edgar said as he rubbed Tito’s gut some more, before lifting Tito’s shirt up to give it some more direct attention. His hands felt warm on Tito’s belly, and Tito smiled at the idea of his new body bringing someone so much joy. “But you’re right. Let’s go. Your meal awaits.” At that, Edgar stuck his thumb in Tito’s belly button and used his fingers to grab the bottom of Tito’s belly. Giving Tito’s gut a gentle tug, Edgar indicated for Tito to follow him, something he did happily.
As they stepped into Tito’s living room, he saw that his couch and TV had been replaced by a dinner table, with chairs to match. Flanked by two place settings was the feast Edgar had mentioned, five serving plates filled with food that still had steam emanating off of it. They looked like they contained enough food to feed an extended family. Two tall candles finished off the new furnishings, giving his gluttonous adventure a fancy air.
“Aw, babe,” Tito exclaimed. “You did all this?”
“Well, I might have been slaving over a hot stove all day, but it’s worth it for my big bear,” Edgar replied, patting Tito’s gut some more.
“No, I mean… the chairs and table. And where did the couch go?”
“The couch that used to be in here.”
“Honey, this… the dining room has always been like this.”
Tito paused for a moment before saying, “Right, right. Sorry, brain fart. Must be from being hungry.”
“Well let’s fix that then.”
Both Edgar and Tito took their respective places at the table, but not before Edgar picked up Tito’s plate, stacked it high with food, and put it down in front of Tito. “Bon appetit, my dear.”
Edgar himself enjoyed one plate with a sampling of all the courses, leaving all the rest for Tito to enjoy. And enjoy he did, shoveling plateful after plateful of all the delicious food into his eager mouth. He wasn’t sure how long he ate for, as he quickly fell into a rhythm, paying attention to nothing but the food he was eating, and how good Edgar’s attention felt. Once Edgar had finished his plate, he split his time between loading up more food for Tito, rubbing his belly, and feeding him when he thought he couldn’t eat anymore. And every time, he was proven wrong. Tito surprised himself by how long he kept eating, and keep eating he did, until all the food was completely gone.
“Atta’boy, tubbs. Finished it all, just like I knew you could.”
“All?” Tito repeated quietly, out of breath from how full he was. Opening his eyes a bit, he gazed over the table and saw that the serving bowls were all empty, just like Edgar had said. His mouth, already open as he breathed shallowly due to his full stomach, opened even more as the shock of how much he’d eaten settled in. “I ate it all?”
“You sure did, big guy. I knew you could do it,” Edgar said, before giving Tito a hug from behind his chair. He wrapped his arms around Tito just under his protruding chest, squeezing him just tightly enough for Tito to feel the love, but not to disturb the contents of his stomach.
It was then that Tito became aware of just how gargantuanly stuffed he was. His belly felt like it was being stretched like a balloon, filled with all the delicious food he’d just gorged on. He’d sunk down in his chair over the course of the night, slouching over and letting his belly jut out into the extra space it needed. Looking down, his belly looked even more rotund than it had before, stretched round by the mound of food inside of him. How he would ever get up from that seat, he wasn’t sure.
“Need some help getting up, dear?”
“Yes. Please.” Tito could barely blurt out his words as he kept breathing rapidly. It felt like his stomach was pushing into space usually reserved for his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe in fully as a result. His breathing was punctuated by an “Oof” as he felt Edgar put his hands under Tito’s arms and try to lift him. Tito supposed that he should have given Edgar a hand in getting himself up, even though he didn’t want to. Any sort of effort on his part felt like it would cause a sharp spike of pain to shoot through his massively stuffed belly.
But Edgar seemed intent on getting Tito up, so he pushed through the pain until he had, somehow, taken a standing position. He let out a lengthy groan as he arched his back, simultaneously adjusting for his shifted center of gravity and giving his engorged belly more room to jut out. His arms hung limp at his sides, and his jaw was just as slack.
Another bolt of pain shot through Tito’s stomach, but it was soon replaced by a wave of relief, along with the feeling of Edgar’s hands slowly navigating his globe of a gut. “You did so good,” he whispered, his touch growing softer like his voice. “My big, hungry bear.”
“Not hungry anymore,” Tito blurted out before breathing heavily again. As Edgar kept rubbing, Tito slowly arched his head back, a groan of pleasure growing out of his groan of pain.
“Oh!, I know what the problem is,” Edgar said, before reaching under Tito’s belly. He was confused at first, but as he felt his pants unbutton and his fly come unzipped, a wave of relief spread out over his gut. “Feel better, dear?”
“Mmhm,” Tito replied. He could barely speak, overwhelmed by the sensation of his overfilled gut, the relief of it pushing forward now that it was no longer restrained by a button, and Edgar’s attention. While it wasn’t a purely pleasurable experience, it was certainly an overwhelming one.
“Good.” Edgar’s hands slowly took Tito’s belly within their grasp. Tito felt apprehensive at first, knowing that even the most loving of touch could cause pain when he was that full. But Edgar was gentle, letting his fingers run lightly over Tito’s taut gut, lulling him back into a state of engorged bliss. He could do naught but stand still, as Edgar tenderly massaged his massive belly, his skilled hands drawing even more bliss out of the stuffed bulge.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, Tito knew that he was paying to just stand there as a fake guy rubbed his gut. He had a feeling that was as good as it was going to get. And as much as he enjoyed it, it was only going to have diminishing returns the longer it went on. So he decided to call it a day. “Hey Edgar? Can you help me get to the kitchen?”
“Sure, babe,” Edgar answered. Tito had expected him to say something like, “Already ready for more, huh?” But then again, this was his fantasy. Sure, Edgar had surprised him before, but this was one case where he was glad for things to go exactly as he wanted them.
The two made their way to the exit, Tito wadling along as Edgar helped him out. Tito approached the door slowly, feeling all of his extra mass with every step. Eventually, he reached the door out of the fantasy, wondering if he should say goodbye to Edgar. But he decided against it, figuring he couldn’t hurt the feelings of a fantasy man, and turned the doorknob to leave.
Once Tito was over the threshold of the doorstep, he found walking remarkably easier. He even surprised himself with how quickly he could move, even while putting the same amount of effort into his walking that previously resulted only in a waddle. Soon he found himself back in the lobby, approaching the front desk. “All set,” he told Mako.
“Great! Now let’s see… rounding up to the nearest quarter of an hour, you were in there for two hours and 15 minutes, so I owe you $120 back.”
As Mako opened a draw under the desk to hand Tito back his change, he noticed a strange sensation. One that hadn’t been apparent when he stepped out of the fantasy room and was so fixated on how it felt to be so much thinner than before. But not as thin as he expected. In fact, with his mind no longer occupied by the sudden change, he realized that something else had changed since he’d walked into the building. Whereas in the fantasy, his clothes were baggy enough to fit him comfortably, his belt now felt tight around his waist.
When Tito reached down, almost out of reflex and without thinking, he discovered that his shirt seemed shorter too. No longer did it hang down far enough to cover his belt as well as his torso. In fact, as his hand touched his belt line, he could feel a thin strip of skin peeking out from between his pants and the bottom of his shirt. Looking down, he was shocked by what he saw: his once flat torso now sported a noticeable amount of pudge, a paunch sticking out far enough to hide the front of his pants from view. Only when he leaned over could he see that part of himself.
“What the fuck?!”
“Language, please,” Mako replied quietly.
“What the hell is this?” Tito asked, motioning to his new belly.
Without looking up, Mako answered, “a word used to refer to something close by or immediate to the speaker. And please, language.”
“Why the he–why am I fat?”
Finally looking up from her drawer, Mako replied, “I’m sorry?”
“Why am I fat? I walked in here skinny, and now I have a belly. Why?”
Mako looked at Tito blankly for a moment, before her eyes went wide and her eyebrows rose up high. “Um… did your fantasy happen to have anything to do with being… heavier than you are now?”
“You could say that,” Tito said, still angry, but now self-conscious about revealing what he’s experienced.
“You said a friend referred you here, right?”
“And he didn’t warn you about how fantasies can… linger?”
“He didn’t tell me anything about this place, let alone what your ‘fantasies’ can do.”
“Oh no… god… dammit! I always tell customers to warn people about the lingering when the refer people.” Mako’s sudden anger was surprising to Tito, but he felt validated by her sharing his emotion. She, however, was much more in control of her emotions than him, taking a deep breath before talking with a more professional voice again. “Now I remember. I had to explain to you what we do here. I knew I’d have to warn you about lingering eventually, but… I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. After just two sessions? Usually it takes five before people begin to see even minor effects.”
“Would you care to explain what ‘lingering’ is, or are you going to keep up with the cryptic façade.”
“Right, right. So, you know that what you experience in the rooms is based on your deepest fantasy.”
“Right. But it’s supposed to stay just a fantasy, right?”
“Not exactly,” she replied, hesitating on the ‘n’ sound.
“Go on,” Tito replied, trying to follow her example and reel in his anger.
“So, when someone has a fantasy that conflicts with the status quo of their real life, their ability to keep fantasy and reality separated determines how much the fantasy bleeds into the real life. And I’m not just talking about our facilities. A person can enjoy their fantasy, and as long as they recognize that it’s not meant to be their reality, it stays in the realm of fantasy. But if they fixate on it too much, if they’re unable to maintain that mental separation, then the physical separation starts to blur too. Secrets, especially the taboo ones, want to make themselves known. Think of conservative politicians who are repressing being gay, and are eventually caught with another man. They couldn’t reconcile their fantasy with the life they were trying to lead, so it bled into reality.”
“But your rooms are just make-believe! Right? That politicians still had to make the choice to sleep with a man. How does living out the fantasy make me fat?”
“They aren’t exactly make-believe. Now, I don’t fully understand the technology myself, but I know that our rooms are designed to magnify the sensation of imagining your fantasy. Think of it like an extremely vivid daydream.”
“But if I daydream about eating 100 burgers. It wouldn’t make me fat.”
“The daydream wouldn’t, no. But if you spend all that time fixated on the idea of eating 100 burgers, eventually, you might fall victim to the temptation to try. Some people are more immune to it than others, But most people who fixate on a fantasy will eventually be unable to keep it in their heads.”
“All right, all right, so how do I undo this change?”
“Diet and exercise, I guess.”
After letting out an aggravated sigh, Tito muttered to himself, “I should have seen that coming.” Speaking up, he continued, “Okay, but if I want to go into a room again, how do I make sure this,” he said as he grabbed his new pudge, “doesn’t happen again?”
“You have to be able to compartmentalize. To not fixate on the fantasy when you’re not in the room and accept that it isn’t meant to be your reality. Or,” she said slowly, sounding hesitant to present the other option, “Like that politician should do, you could accept that… this is what you want, and let it happen.”
Tito wanted to object, but he was long past the point of denying that he did want to be really fat, and eat enough to get even fatter. There was no sense in denying it to Mako; she had clearly been at this long enough to figure that out about him. Still, some part of him–his pride, perhaps–didn’t want to admit it, to himself or her. Instead, he merely grabbed the $120 off the counter and left without another word.
As he walked home, Tito thought about his choices, as Mako had presented them. He didn’t like them. Letting his fantasy bleed into the real world was simply out of the question. But never getting to experience that joy again, of all the attention Edgar gave him, all the food he cooked for him, and how good being that full felt, that wasn’t much more appealing. And how would Edgar feel about never seeing him again?
He’s an illusion, Tito thought. Sure, Edgar was likely a personification of something deep within himself, so by considering Edgar’s feelings, he was considering his own in a way. But ultimately, Edgar was still a fabrication. He isn’t real and you owe him nothing. You owe it to yourself to do what’s right for you.. As he thought about the idea of never visiting the Palace again, Tito let out a disappointed sigh and concluded, as hard as that may be.
Over the next week, Tito did everything he could to keep his mind off of his desire to be bigger. He took on several extra projects at work so he was always busy, leading to him having to work extra hours. By the time he got home at night, he was too tired to think about the fantasy, or much of anything really. He never did make time to exercise to lose the weight he’d already gained, but that wasn’t a priority. Learning how to not fixate on the fantasy came first. After that, he’d worry about losing his extra weight.
By the time Saturday came around, Tito felt like he’d been successful. All week, he’d managed to keep his mind off of his desire to get bigger, and now he felt like he’d successfully compartmentalized it. Strolling back to the Fantasy Palace in a new outfit he’d bought to fit his bigger body more comfortably, he felt confident about this visit. He believed that he could enjoy his fantasy without it lingering into the real word. His confidence was so high that he had a pep in his step as he turned the corner into the alley where the Palace entrance was.
Mako raised her eyebrows upon seeing Tito enter. “You’re back.”
“That I am.”
“So what conclusion did you come to?”
“I’m confident I’ve been able to compartmentalize the fantasy, like you described. I’m ready to enjoy it again.”
“High roller, huh? Alright, let’s get you set up.”
After pre-paying for his experience with $400 in cash, Tito was given room number 8, and strode over confidently. When he reached the door, he felt some doubt creep in through his confidence. But he’d gotten this far, he thought. He might as well go through with it. With a deep breath, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Tito didn’t expect to see the cafeteria of his own workplace on the other side. He could see his coworkers walking around in business-casual dress, and there seemed to be food set up on the tables, like there was an event going on. It was a far cry from the cozy intimacy of his kitchen, which almost made him close the door and walk to the lobby to get his money back. But that little bit of curiosity in him wasn’t going to be satisfied until he crossed the threshold. After taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.
Tito could feel himself waddling nearly as much as he had at the end of his last meal in one of the rooms at the Palace. Looking down, he saw that he was even bigger than he had been in his previous fantasies. His button-down shirt wrapped tightly around a belly that was as big around as a truck tire. Trying to not draw attention to himself, he subtly poked his fingers into the side of his gut, feeling them sink into the warm, supple flab. Worst of all, he felt hungry.
“Tito! I’ve been looking for you.” Tito heard Edgar’s voice calling out from behind him, before he turned around to see his fantasy partner also dressed in business casual clothes. “I was wondering when you’d come down. Working hard as always, eh?”
“Heh, yeah, I have definitely been working harder than usual, lately.”
“Don’t I know it. Coming home so late every day this week? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me. I barely got to see you at all this week!”
“Heh, uh, sorry babe. Things got busy, you know.”
“But hey, we’re here now,” Edgar said, in a tone that sounded a bit too mischievous for Tito’s liking. “Why don’t you introduce me to your coworkers? Or are you ashamed of me?” Edgar said with a chuckle, ribbing Tito as he nudged his belly with his elbow.
“No, no, nothing like that!” Tito insisted.
“Then what are you waiting for? Come on!” Edgar said as he grabbed Tito’s flabby hand and pulled him farther into the cafeteria. Tito followed behind, not sure where this was going and wishing that he could have simply revisited his previous fantasy.
Soon Edgar lead them to a group that included a few of his coworkers, and some people Edgar didn’t recognize who must have been their respective partners. As he was pulled toward the group, his coworker Sarah gave him a wave and called out, “Hey, Tito! I was wondering when you’d make it down,” causing the others to laugh.
“Yeah, it can be hard to pull him away from his work sometimes. But I have my ways,” Edgar said, before conspicuously patting Tito’s belly. Tito swatted his hand away, and he could feel his cheeks turning bright red.
“Well, Tito, aren’t you going to introduce us to your guest?”
“Yes, yes. This is my…” Tito panicked. Were he and Edgar married in this fantasy? He looked down at his hands and was relieved when he saw a ring. “Husband, Edgar.”
“Nice to meet you, Edgar,” his coworker Sam said, reaching out his hand to shake Edgar’s. “How long have you two been married?”
“Eight years,” Edgar answered for Tito, to Tito’s relief. “Funny how time flies, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tito concurred. “Really sneaks up on you.”
“Well… would you say that marriage is really ‘growing’ on you, Tito,” Sam snickered.
“Sam, stop it,” Sarah whispered, though her own voice was cracking with laughter too.
“Wha–what do you mean?” Tito asked.
“Oh come on, Tito,” Sam chuckled. “As if it isn’t obvious to anyone who’s been here as long as you have.”
“I think they’re talking about this, hun,” Edgar chimed in, before patting Tito’s belly again.
“Edgar,” Tito scolded.
“I mean, he’s not wrong.”
“Sam, stop!” Sarah whispered, unable to maintain her composure as her laughter came through again.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, babe,” Edgar cooed as he rubbed Tito’s belly again. This time, Tito was too mortified by what was happening to stop him, and Edgar continued gently caressing his blimped up gut. In spite of his embarrassment, Tito couldn’t deny how good it felt for Edgar to rub his belly. In fact, the longer Edgar rubbed it, the more content Tito felt. His worries about the thoughts of his coworkers and their laughs at his expense melted away, replaced by the simple pleasure of being so big, and Edgar’s appreciation for his size.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tito affirmed in a hushed voice. “I mean, what’s the sense in pretending?”
“Atta’boy. Now, why don’t we show these fine people how you got this big?”
“What, here?” Tito asked, a smile still on his face, but some small part of him still concerned with proper decorum.
“You and I both know your hunger doesn’t take days off, fatty,” Edgar said quietly. Tito looked over at his coworkers, expecting them to be confused or embarrassed by Edgar’s words. Yet they were still simply smiling, and continued doing so as Edgar continued, “Someone has to clear the food off that table. And we both know who’s going to do it.” As Edgar spoke, he rubbed Tito’s belly more intensely, making Tito fall even more deeply into his fat guy trance. He couldn’t think about anything but being fat, and how much he wanted to get bigger.
That day, he’d get his wish. With another hand on Tito’s back, Edgar lead him to the tables with all the party food spread out. Though it was mostly finger food and other such hors d’oeuvres, there was still plenty of food for Tito to stuff himself with. He’d just have to slowly move from table to table to get to it all.
“Show ‘em what you’re made of, tubbs. Show ‘em how you got as fat as you are.”
Edgar only spoke the words loudly enough for Tito to hear, but he felt like everyone there could observe the effects they had on him. He immediately started wolfing down the finger food on the table, demolishing a platter of deviled eggs before he moved on to something wrapped in bacon. He didn’t much care exactly what it was. All that mattered was that it was food, and he wanted to eat it.
And he did, clearing platter after platter of the party’s food, shoveling it in like it was the first meal he’d had in weeks. It felt like he was eating weeks’ worth of food, as he singlehandedly devoured the food meant to feed a party with hundreds of attendants. No one stopped him, or even discouraged him from eating it all. At one point, a woman by one of the dessert tables asked, “Are you going to save any for us, Tito?” Her joking tone let him know that she knew the answer.
“If you wanted any food to be leftover for anyone else, you shouldn’t have invited him,” Edgar said as Tito kept stuffing his mouth at record pace. A few people around them chuckled, but even that couldn’t stop Tito. He was hooked on the food, and kept wolfing it down. He moved down the tables slowly like they were a conveyor belt, bringing him more and more food that was his responsibility to make disappear.
All the while, Edgar kept egging him on. “Atta’boy tubbers. Keep filling that massive gut.” “You know that belly isn’t going to be satisfied with only a dozen trays.” “It’s all for you, fatty. Don’t let me down.” His words were all that Tito needed to stay in his gluttonous daze, caring only about stuffing himself with as much food as possible.
As Tito continued, he became aware of some unwanted attention he was getting. When he turned his head around, he could see his coworkers staring at him, some gawking, some giggling. Some continued talking in their groups, but still glanced over at the spectacle he was creating. But regardless of the kind of attention he was getting, it all had one thing in common: it didn’t dissuade him from eating even more.
Only one thing could stop Tito in his tracks and make him pause his eating. That was the sound of buttons snapping and bouncing off the table, and the relief he felt now that his belly was no longer constrained by his shirt. He paused with his cheeks full of small pieces of chocolate cake. Looking down, he confirmed his worst fears: his button-down shirt had burst open in front of all his coworkers. From below his chest to the bottom, the shirt hung wide open, the two flaps of cloth framing a stuffed gut. Feeling at the fly of his pants, he could feel that his button there had burst as well, and his fly had come completely unzipped. His rotund ball of fat lay out for all to see, barely hidden thanks to him facing the tables, away from the crowd.
Edgar’s expression of sarcastic surprise prompted Tito to slowly turn his head to face Edgar’s way. His cheeks were still full of chocolate cake, bulging out and looking even more round than they did naturally, while the crumbs and frosting adorned his lips.
“We both know what happens if you turn around, tubbs. All of your coworkers will see that you’ve burst out of your clothes. I think you’d like that. But if not, you might as well just keep eating.”
Slowly, Tito’s jaw started moving again, chewing the cake already in his mouth and swallowing it before he kept shoveling more in. As his hands picked up more cake and filled his mouth yet again, Edgar let out a deep chuckle and reached around to pat Tito’s exposed belly. His hand slid under the sides of Tito’s shirt, the loose cloth rising as Edgar pushed it out of the way. The sounds of Edgar’s hands landing on Tito’s belly made him momentarily pause, wondering if his coworkers would hear the pats and wisen up to what had happened to his clothes.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, tubbo. You think your coworkers finding out that your clothes burst open would change anything? They already know what a pig you are. They’ve watched you grow year after year, bigger and bigger as I’ve worked my handiwork, you wearing the consequences of your feedings like a badge of honor. And now, they’ve gotten to see you ravenously pig out on enough food to feed a small company. But you know they put it all out for you. They weren’t dumb enough to think you’d be satisfied with normal portion sizes. And now, your clothes bursting open like this? It would only confirm what they already know: you’re an out-of-control hog. Now show them just how out-of-control you are.”
Edgar’s words slid into Tito’s ears like all the food tumbling down his throat and into his bulging belly. But unlike that food, they only made him hungrier, more ravenous, more desperate to shove as much as his could into his greedy gut. He moved down the tables even more quickly, even though his belly had bloated so large that reaching the food was a struggle. As such, he resorted to simply picking up entire trays, propping them on the top of his gut with one hand, and cramming in handfuls of food with the other. He’d then lick his fingers clean, drop the tray, and keep moving.
No one seemed to be talking to Tito as he greedily made his way down the tables. The friendly teasing that had once soundtracked his gorge was now conspicuously absent. In fact, people seemed to be moving out of his was so as to not get between him and his next course. On some level, he was glad he didn’t have to fight anyone for the appetizers his work had laid out. They were all so small that it took a handful of them just to make a satisfying bite, let alone fill him up. But deep down, he knew it was his gluttonous display that was driving his coworkers away, not out of consideration, but likely disgust. Edgar was right: they were seeing just what a greedy pig he was, and preferred to judge from afar. But this thought, like so many pigs-in-a-blanket that Tito shoved down, was soon squashed and smothered, pushed out of sight by a barrage of more. More food, more courses, and more thoughts that cared only about filling Tito’s gut up as much as possible.
So obsessed was Tito with cramming his belly with food that even the sound of another button popping, which he knew would expose his food-swelled body even more, didn’t deter him. He just kept eating, seemingly oblivious to the feeling of fullness that should have settled over his gut. He didn’t feel full. He just felt an unsatisfiable gluttony that compelled him to consume and expand. The sound of his pants ripping was equally ineffective at dissuading him. He was determined to keep eating, to keep growing, even if it left him standing naked in front of his entire company.
To Tito’s surprise, the food tables extended along the entire side wall of the cafeteria. Altogether, they held more food than a company that size could possibly eat on their own. At least, that would have been the case if they didn’t have an employee like Tito. As he reached the corner of the room, he slowed down briefly as he realized just how much he had eaten. His shirt was a few buttons away from becoming a vest. His pants seemed ready to tear away from his body. He know these observation should have stopped him and made him go lie down to digest, before committing to a diet and exercise routine. Instead, he picked up the pace again and resumed shoving mini cupcakes in his mouth.
As Tito kept working his way down the remaining tables, Edgar’s hand expertly rubbing his gut and keeping him focused on eating more, his clothes gave up the last bit of fight they had left in them. The outside seems of his pants split, resulting in the strips of fabric hanging around his waist like a hula skirt before they came back together at his thighs, which had not yet swelled enough to burst out. His shirt was held together by one stubborn button, as the flaps of cloth that once covered his belly were pushed farther and farther to the side. The arms of his shirt were also shredded, his flabby arms tearing the fabric a little more every time he pulled a platter of food up to his greedy mouth. His gluttony was on display for all to see, and soon the consequences of that gluttony would be too.
For as Tito shoveled down what remained of the party’s food on the final table, situated by the door, he saw that he seemed to have gained about a hundred pounds since he’d walked through that door. His belly was now so gargantuan that he had to turn it entirely to the side to put down the last tray. His belly stuck out like he’d swallowed a yoga ball, a three-feet wide ball of fat resting on the table in front of him. It was a testament to his gluttony, a trophy of his many, many feasts. Though his legs were well out of sight now, he could see that his arms had grown more brawny too, now that they’d burst out of the sleeves and into view. He could only assume his legs had widened similarly.
“Oh my sweet, sweet tubbo,” Edgar whispered as he rubbed his hand across Tito’s face. Tito was able to feel this way that his face had swollen up too, now encased in a ring of fat that hung from his cheeks and culminated in a double chin that completely engulfed his neck. That ring of fat encircled a blank expression, Tito not sure what to think now that he wasn’t thinking about stuffing his face.
“Turn around, tubbs. Let everyone see what a blimp you’ve become.” Tito remained still. “Turn around,” Edgar commanded again, this time rubbing Tito’s belly so expertly that he was powerless to resist Edgar’s commands. He did as instructed, shuffling in place to show his exposed, fattened body to all his coworkers.
Conversations stopped all across the cafeteria. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to stare at Tito every second, until he was at the center of everyone’s gaze. Most people didn’t turn their bodies all the way to face him, having some sense of decorum. But no one was immune to the temptation to gawk at what their coworker had become. Some stared with open mouths, while others merely opened their eyes wide at what Tito had done to himself.
Tito’s own eyes were wide as he felt an embarrassed flush burning in his cheeks. His instincts wanted to run out of there, escape the stares of his coworkers. But there was no use. They’d already seen what a pig he had become.
“Don’t look so mortified, tubbs. This is what you wanted, after all. We fed you like a hog, but that wasn’t enough. We grew you to the size of a hog, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted everyone to know just what a greedy, unrepentant glutton you are. And now…” Edgar concluded as he gave Tito’s belly a hearty smack, followed by a strong squeeze. “Now they all know.”
Edgar started rubbing Tito’s engorged belly again, causing Tito to lurch away from his touch. At least, he lurched as much as he could given how much extra weight he was carrying. For once, he didn’t want Edgar lulling him into an ecstatic daze again, and somehow convince him that he was enjoying this attention.
“You wanted this, tubby. You wanted everyone to see what an out-of-control pig you are. All I did was make your dream come true. And I’ll be damned,” Edgar said with an angry emphasis on the final word, “if you stop yourself from enjoying it.”
Tito felt too mortified to run away from the situation he found himself in. But even more mortifying than the fact that he was effectively naked in front of his coworkers, was the fact Edgar was right. And as that fact sunk in, it was quickly made more palatable by the sensation of Edgar expertly massaging his gut. Tito felt himself sink into the pure bliss that Edgar’s affection could draw him into. His embarrassment faded into pure enjoyment of his current circumstances. His coworkers were finding out his true nature, and that was fine with hm.
Tito’s eyelids drooped until they were almost closed, while his mouth hung open, as if ready to be filled with more food, if he hadn’t already eaten it all. Tito heard snickering start to spread across the crowd, but he truly didn’t mind. With his belly hanging out for Edgar to rub and everyone to see, he was content.
“Atta’boy. No more denial. No more hiding. Time for everyone to see who you really are.”
Edgar’s words only drew Tito further into his overfed ecstasy. The reactions of his coworkers faded from his mind as his cares were reduced to only his fatness and Edgar’s attention. His belly rubs shrunk Tito’s world to the two of them, his planetary belly and Edgar’s attention his only cares in the world.
But it couldn’t last. With Edgar pulling Tito further and further into his state of bliss, Tito felt himself swaying back and forth, unsure how long he’d be able to remain standing. All he wanted was to be lying in a nice bed, his globish belly jutting into the air above him as Edgar rubbed it all over, telling him what a good piggy he was. The thought was so intoxicating that he failed to notice as he leaned a bit too far backwards, and crashed through the doors to the cafeteria.
Tito came to as he was falling out of the room where his fantasy had taken place and into the hallway of the Fantasy Palace. As he landed on the soft carpet, he was thankful for the padding, and thankful that he didn’t weigh as much as he did in the fantasy. That much weight landing on his back could have been disastrous. But he was still sore from the impact, and he let himself lie on his back as he tried to get his bearings again.
“Are you okay down there?” he heard Mako yell out.
“Fine, fine,” Tito called back, not wanting to be a bother.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, I’m shine,” Tito responded, having intended to say “sure” but deciding mid-word to say “fine.” “I mean, fine.”
“If you say so,” she shouted back.
After getting his bearings, Tito rolled onto his side to push himself up. With a few grunts, he resumed a standing position, and dusted himself off. As his hands traveled down the sides of his body, he soon realized that he’d not managed to compartmentalize the fantasy at all. He’d left his room bigger yet again.
And once again, the change to Tito’s body was quite noticeable. When he walked into the room, his belly resembled that of a dadbod. Now it was a proper gut, with no familial labels existing to excuse it. It seems to be about the size and shape of a basketball. Certainly a much more manageable size than what Tito had been dealing with in the fantasy room, but still more than he was expecting to have to deal with once he left the room. As he kept dusting himself off, he could feel that his shirts had ridden up yet again, this time revealing a view of his new belly. With a sigh, he tugged in vain at the bottom of his shirt to try to cover his newly grown gut, and walked back to the lobby.
Mako barely looked up as Tito approached. “That was fast,” she remarked as she typed. “It looks like you were only in there for an hour, so I owe you $320.”
“I don’t think I’m coming back,” Tito blurted out.
“Oh? Why is that?” she asked without looking up.
“Look at me,” Tito exclaimed.
With a confused expression, Mako looked up, only for her eyebrows to continue rising as she beheld with the changes to Tito’s body. “I see. I take it you weren’t able to compartmentalize the fantasy as much as you thought you could.”
“No. And I think coming here is only making it harder.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve considered the possibility that… maybe you’d be happier if you… let your reality reflects your fantasy?”
“I don’t think that’s meant to happen. Or else my fantasy wouldn’t be so far removed from my reality.”
“But you said the first fantasy took place in your kitchen. That doesn’t sound so far removed from your reality to me.”
“No,” Tito agreed, “I suppose not. And this last one happened at work, so… you might have a point.”
Mako raised her palms in an “I told you so,” expression. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do with your life. But I’ve seen a lot of folks come and go who had to wrestle with whether to live out their fantasies or live in denial. And for those who choose denial, the fantasy usually came to light sooner or later. Wouldn’t you rather it be on your terms?”
Tito was silent as he contemplated Mako’s question. As he thought, she pulled his change out of the cash drawer and put three 100-dollar bills and a 20 on the counter. “Just give it some thought. That’s all I’m saying.”
Tito remained quiet as he took the money off the counter. But he did give Mako a nod before he turned around to walk slowly out the door. In the alleyway, he ambled his way out slowly, like he was still engorged on all that food. He turned the corner at a gradual pace, carrying the weight of Mako’s question with him. Looking down at his new belly, he decided to use the rest of the day to go clothing shopping for his new size. As he walked, he decided he’d buy some clothes a size up too, to grow into.
Upon making that decision, he smiled, and found himself walking a little faster.