Contains: stuffing and general fatness.
Ever since this quarantine started, I’ve had a hard time writing. None of the ideas I’ve come up with really motivated me to get to work and write them. Then I remembered a conversation I had with Biggerisbest7, where he wished he was more confident in his writing, so he could write little stories to accompany his artwork. And it dawned on me, if I’m not having much success writing my own ideas, maybe I’d have better success writing someone else’s. Especially when that someone else is a gainer artist whose work I really love. I brought the idea up with him, and we brainstormed some ideas that turned into this story.
This story is inspired by two of Biggerisbest7’s drawing: this one and this one. Biggerisbest7 brought up how someone had suggested that those two drawings could be snapshots from the same night in the life of his character Bubba. This story is my imagining of what that night might be like, as Bubba, giant of a man with an even more gigantic gut, enjoys a night in with several delivery dinners.
Keith had his car windows rolled down to give the smells of takeout a way to escape his car. Even on the coldest of winter days, he tried to leave the windows open at least a crack, lest his car forever smell like greasy fast food even after he quit this job. Mercifully, it was a reasonably warm spring evening. Not hot enough to require the AC, but warm enough for him to appreciate the breeze the open windows provided.
Only one delivery occupied the back seat of Keith’s car. And yet, that one delivery consisted of twelve extra large pizzas, adorned with various toppings. For such large orders, most people called in ahead, but this one had apparently been called in just an hour-and-a-half before. Perhaps someone was hosting a party and had been too absentminded to plan ahead for food. Or maybe their caterer had to cancel, and they needed a last minute replacement.
Keith pondered the possibilities until he reached the address. After parking the car, he unlocked the doors and opened the left-back one. The pizzas were split between two insulated bags, which he took them out of, before consolidating them into one large stack on the roof of his car. After closing the door, he picked up the stack and slowly slid it off, worried he might drop them and waste all the cooks’ hard work. But he got them all in his hands just fine, and slowly made his way to the door.
Keith slowed down when he realized he couldn’t see over the stack of pizzas. Peering around either side of the boxes, he carefully made his way around the car, then down the path in the small front yard. Fortunately, there weren’t any steps for him to navigate to get to the door. Unfortunately, he had no means of pressing the doorbell, unless perhaps he could do so with his elbow. Before he could try, he heard pounding footsteps coming from in the house. What he didn’t hear was any sort of commotion that would indicate a party. Soon the door opened and a deep, husky voice said, “Here, here, let me take those from you.”
The owner of that voice swiftly took the pizza boxes from Keith, grabbing them with such strength as if the boxes were empty. Before Keith could process how easily the man had taken the boxes, his view was restored.
Keith had delivered to some strange customers before. He’d delivered to stoners, kinksters, adulterers, exotic dancers, and high school classrooms. But nothing could have prepared him for the behemoth of a man that stood in front of him now. Towering above him at around 8 or 9 feet tall, he was easily taller than anyone Keith had seen in person. But even when Keith had seen photos of people that tall, like the folks with hormone disorders who grew to record-breaking heights, they were usually lanky, skinny, looking so feeble that they had a hard time standing up. This guy looked like he had a hard time standing up for a different reason.
“S-so f-fat…” Keith gasped.
The giant in front of Keith was dressed in a white tank top that didn’t come close to covering the entirety of his immense belly. The shirt rode up past his belly button, leaving an ample amount of round underbelly hanging out. Outside of the hems of the shirt, an impressive amount of body hair adorned the man’s underbelly, chest, and arms. But as thick as his hair was, his waist was far more attention-grabbing in its thickness. It was so round and globular that the man almost looked like he’d been inflated with an air pump. But the way his belly wobbled and jiggled with his movements made it clear it was all him.
“…10, 11, 12. A dozen XL pizzas. Good, didn’t miss one, heh.”
The man held the stack of pizzas in one hand, counting with the other. He held them as easily as if they were a deck of cards. He must have been strong if he was carrying around all that weight every day. He was so fat that his belly seemed to stick out farther in front of him than his torso was tall. There was no possible way his center of gravity could have resided over his feet. And yet, he was standing straight up. He made carrying all that weight look as effortless as holding the stack of pizzas.
To the man’s credit, the XL boxes looked like small boxes compared to his massive hands, which were appropriately sized for how massive he was. Still, eating twelve small pizzas would be an impossible task for an average-sized person. Surely those pizzas must have been for a group.
“No, not you. Talking to the pizza guy. So right, 10 double cheeseburgers, five 20-piece nuggets. Thanks!”
“Is he ordering more?” Keith muttered.
“Sorry, give me one second,” the man said as he took his phone away from his ear, before calling someone else. His phone was one of the larger smartphone models, the kind that were so big they approached being a tablet. And yet, in his hand, it looked even smaller than the first generations of smartphones. How he managed to press anything on the screen with his giant fingers, Keith had no idea. “Hi, WingStop? Yes, I’d like two orders of 100-piece, one Cajun, one barbecue. Oh, and extra cheese fries!”
“What is happening?” Keith asked in a shaky voice.
“’Is this for a party?’ The heck you mean! Can’t a guy just be hungry? Goddamn. Don’t judge me for having a healthy appetite.”
“It’s… it’s all for him?” Keith muttered, afraid to speak it so loudly lest it be true.
“Yeah, same address as last time. Alright, thank you.” After finishing the call, the man sighed before shoving the phone in the pockets of his athletic shorts, themselves looking stretched to their limits. “Sorry you had to see that. $146, right?”
“Y-yes,” Keith stammered, his shaky hand pulling the receipt out of his pocket to double check. “$146.75.”
With his free hand, the man reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a small stack of $20 bills. “Keep the change,” he said, handing the money to Keith before turning around to walk back in his house. Watching him rotate all that heft felt like watching a wrecking ball slowly swing around. Nothing, nor no one, with that much inertia was going to get moving quickly. His movements reminded Keith of the giant monsters he’d seen in movies: slow, plodding, and deliberate, as if each motion was carefully considered. They had to be when there was that much to move.
After the door closed, Keith stood in front of the house a while longer, trying to take in everything that had just happened. He had a hard time believing his eyes, more easily entertaining the idea that it had all been a hallucination. The only evidence he had that it was real was that he was no longer holding the heavy stack of pizzas, instead holding onto a stack of cash.
Still in shock, Keith walked back to his car more slowly than he did when the pizzas were blocking his view. Once inside, he leaned back and sat in place for a while, processing the sight he’d seen. With the money still in hand, he reflexively started counting it, as any higher thought processes were suspended. When he realized that he’d counted 10 twenties, he snapped out of his daze and counted again, more carefully this time. But he got the same result: the man had tipped him over $50 on a $146 order.
Raising his eyebrows, Keith smiled as he started the car and drove off.
Loud chewing and lip smacking reverberated around the room as Bubba polished off the last of his pizzas. He’d already emptied ten of the boxes, which lay stacked next to his recliner as the TV droned on. The eleventh box sat on top of his belly, which pushed out too far for him to rest the box on his lap. He shoved the extra-large slices in his mouth like they were slices of a personal pie, managing to fit a slice in his mouth at once, with a bit of chewing and a bit of pushing.
But they were all too delicious for Bubba to hold back. From the ones stacked with veggies to the ones with tons of meat, and even the good ol’ extra cheese, all held up by thick crusts–the pizza was a decadent treat that Bubba couldn’t help but devour like it was the first meal he’d had in weeks. But it was only his first meal since his third lunch, and there was more coming.
With the last slice of the eleventh pizza finished, Bubba closed the box and brought it around to the side of his chair, before dropping it on the rest. After letting out a deep burp, he picked up the final box of pizza, lying on the table next to him, strategically positioned so he wouldn’t have to bend forward to get more food. Bubba had learned that lesson the hard way, having eaten so much that he couldn’t bend forward in his chair. All he could do was lay back and let the food go cold on the table in front of him, until he’d digested enough to lean forward again. Placing the table next to the chair was much more appropriate for his dietary habits, allowing him to keep grabbing food and keep eating no matter how full he got.
Opening the box, Bubba saw a meat lover’s pizza inside, and licked his lips. It would be a wonderful way to end his first course of the evening. Not that he was picky; given how much he ate, he couldn’t be, or else he’d get bored of the foods he liked quite quickly. Which was why he hadn’t spared much thought to the order in which he ate the pizzas. Rather, he’d simply put the stack of boxes down on the table, opened the top one, and started munching. And though he certainly didn’t feel as hungry as he did when he’d started eating, he was still looking forward to his next course.
That course came sooner than he expected. As Bubba stuffed the fourth slice in his mouth, he heard the doorbell ring. “Hmph?” he blurted out, the word garbled by a mouthful of pizza. He put the box, still open, back on the table, before pushing against the arms of the recliner. He could hear the wood beneath the upholstery creaking, but he still balanced his weight against it as he stood up. The old seat hadn’t given out on him yet.
Once Bubba was upright, he brushed the crumbs off of his white tank top and instinctively pulled it down, even though it hadn’t covered his belly since several hundred pounds ago. As the food settled in his stomach, he let out several burps, his head bobbing with each one. He turned back to reach for the pizza box, his belly swaying noticeably as he did. Soon he had the pizza box in hand, and he rested it on top of his belly, its side against his chest. With his pizza in tow, he ambled over to the door, shoving another slice in his mouth as he did. As one hand held the box steady, he used his other to turn the doorknob.
Waiting outside for him was not just one delivery guy, but two. Judging by the looks on their faces, neither of them had expected to arrive at the same time as another delivery guy. Those looks of confusion were overridden with utter shock as they beheld Bubba. Their mouths dropped open and they stood frozen in place, gripping their bags of delivery more tightly as their hands shook.
Bubba had gotten enough surprised looks from delivery drivers to respond to them with a totally stoic expression, as if there was nothing strange happening. This usually left the drivers even more confused, which entertained Bubba even more. He enjoyed poking fun at them by playing up his size. “Oh good, my next two dinners are here!” he remarked, which made the drivers’ mouths open even wider. “I’ll tell you what, you got here a bit earlier than I expected. Could you just hang tight while I finish this?”
The drivers both let out sustained “uh”s in unison, before Bubba quickly cut them off by picking up a slice and shoving as much of it in his mouth as he could. With loud chewing, he unashamedly pushed the pizza in like he was in an eating contest, trying to get it down while chewing as little as possible. The more time he spent chewing, the more time it would take him to finish the pizza. And he wasn’t going to risk the delivery drivers leaving with his next meals because they got bored.
Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the drivers would be going anywhere. As Bubba shoved one slice after another in his mouth, the two drivers stood petrified, watching in awe. Soon enough, Bubba had shoveled down more pizza than either of them could probably eat in a whole night. And that was just the end of his first meal.
“Mmmph,” Bubba grunted as he swallowed the last slice, before letting out a belch that echoed down the street. “Thanks for waiting. Now I can use this as a tray to carry both of your deliveries,” he said as he closed the pizza box. Holding either side, Bubba brought the box down to their level. “Alright, let’s see if we can fit it all on there.”
The drivers snapped out of their astonished daze. Working together, they arranged the bags of food on the pizza box, bunching them in the center to reduce the chances of them falling off. There wasn’t much room to spare, but they were able to fit it all. “Good, good. I don’t know about you boys, but I hate making more than one trip. Now, how much were the burgers and nuggets, again?
“65 dollars,” the driver stuttered out.
“Right,” Bubba said as he reached into his pocket. His wallet was stuffed with $20 bills to make it easy to pay the delivery drivers. All he had to do was reach in with his free hand and count. Three, four… or was that just three? he thought to himself. With his other hand holding a pizza box laden with other foods, trying to balance it so none of the bags fell off, fishing around for the money became a more difficult task. Better give him another one. “Okay, here you go,” he said as he passed the money to the driver. “Is that enough?”
“Yeah,” the driver blurted out after he counted the five $20 bills.
“And how about the wings and fries?”
“Okay,” Bubba sighed, but not because the amount was more than he wanted to pay. Rather, he did not relish the prospect of pulling that many bills out of his wallet.
Reaching into his pocket, Bubba started counting bills again. Seven, eight… or was that nine? Better go with eight to be sure, he thought as he carefully kept his hand level underneath the box. Twelve, thirteen. Now how much of a tip do I–
Bubba’s rumination was interrupted by the sound of bags slipping across the pizza box. With a quick tilt of his hand, he was able to stop his next two dinners from falling on the ground. But it still left him not wanting to hold it any longer than he had to. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, before swiping his thumb to grab a hefty wad of cash out of his wallet. “Here,” he blurted out. “Keep the change.”
Bubba quickly grabbed the side of the box with his free hand. He breathed a sigh of relief, while the driver’s eyes opened even wider as he stared at the cash. “Alright, you both have a good night.” Turning back inside, he nudged the door with his elbow so it closed behind him. Food in tow, he ambled back to his recliner and placed the pizza box on the table. Breathing a sigh of relief, he rubbed his gut absentmindedly, before sitting back down.
The chair groaned beneath Bubba as he leaned back, reclining into a more relaxed position. When he reached the limit of how far the chair would extend, his belly bounced at the sudden stop. A few more belly pats followed, these more deliberate. With two meals delivered at once, Bubba knew that once he finished them, he’d be plenty satisfied for a while.
With an audible “Mmm,” Bubba reached into one of the bags and pulled out a box of chicken nuggets. After opening the box, he poured them in his mouth like they were the crumbs at the bottom of a bag of chips. About half of them ended up in his mouth before he closed his lips to chew. The other half disappeared just as quickly, before he closed the empty box and dropped it on top of the pizza boxes.
With his eyes locked on the TV, Bubba reached blindly into the bags and pulled out whatever his hand landed on. Picking up a styrofoam container, he discovered it was one of the servings of cheesy fries. He made short work of those, licking his messy fingers of melted sauce when he was done. Another empty container joined the pile.
Bubba ate just as voraciously as the night went on. It felt like the two meals passed in the blink of an eye, though the fact that it took him nearly a whole episode of whatever crime drama was airing to finish both let him know it had taken slightly longer. But before long, he had amassed a pile of several dozen empty boxes and containers next to the chair. All of the food they’d once contained was now stuffed into his giant gut.
After tossing the last container aside, Bubba relaxed in his recliner and locked his fingers behind his head. He revelled in the feeling of his belly sticking out in front of him, propped up by all the dinners stuffed inside of it. He could feel the armrests pushing gently against his sides, as his sphere of a midsection spilled out over them. After letting out a sustained, deep belch, he felt relieved of the pressure inside him. He felt satisfied.
But after eating for so long, he also felt thirsty. Normally, he would ask his husband, Cam, to bring him something to drink when he felt pinned to the recliner. Cam might act miffed about it, but Bubba knew that deep down, Cam loved when he was too full to stand up as much as he did. But with Cam still out, he’d have to get something himself.
Bubba pushed himself up in his chair. It took a fair bit of exertion and grunting for him to lean forward, as his packed stomach resisted being compressed. But he managed to return to a sitting position, taking a breather once he did. After panting for a while, he leaned forward again, his gargantuan gut still resisting him. But soon he was able to stand up, stretching out his back in relief. “Oof,” he grunted as his belly was finally able to spread out again.
Now upright, he wobbled his way to the kitchen to get something to drink. His arms swayed far out at his sides as he moved, while his belly led him forward. He moved with a careful consideration of his body weight, the product of having made many a mess by knocking things over with his belly. Such caution was especially necessary when he’d eaten so much, with how his center of gravity shifted as his belly held so much food.
Once his trek was over, Bubba found himself in front of the refrigerator, an industrial-sized one he’d bought to accommodate his extra-large appetite. After opening the left door, he reached in to grab a gallon-sized jug of milk, one of twelve that resided on the left side of the top shelf. In his gigantic hand, the gallon looked more like a quart. He popped the top off and threw it away, before bringing the milk to his mouth and taking a long swig.
The milk felt refreshing, restoring his parched throat after not having hydrated for so long. It soon felt satisfying too, as it splashed into his crammed stomach. As full as he was, there wasn’t much room for it to settle into. Rather, the milk saturated the mound of food he’d eaten, soaking in and causing the whole mass to expand and grow heavier. Bubba let out an “Mmm” as he felt the milk drench his food, feeling it grow within him. It felt so good that he finished two-thirds of the jug before he stopped, letting out a loud gasp followed by a burp that echoed against the kitchen walls. “Mph,” Bubba grunted, patting the top of his belly in satisfaction.
As Bubba eyed the fridge, wondering what else he could eat, he spotted a chocolate cake covered in a rich, dark chocolate ganache. He didn’t remember buying the cake himself, and he didn’t remember Cam mentioning it either. But Cam knew better than to leave cake around without expecting him to eat it. So he pulled out the plastic container and brought it to the table. After putting the milk down, he lifted off the plastic lid, and was immediately met by an intensely chocolatey smell.
It was settled: the cake would be his dessert. And if Cam got mad about it, Bubba knew he was cute enough to get out of it, as he’d done quite a few times before.
After opening the silverware drawer, Bubba pulled out a large serving fork. The prongs were nearly three times as wide as those on the forks Cam used. In Cam’s hand, it would be used for serving food. But for Bubba, such a fork was a requirement to get a sufficiently large bite of whatever he was eating. Bringing the fork back to the kitchen table, he stuck it in the cake to make carrying easier. He then grabbed the cake and the jug of milk, and brought them back to the living room. The jug of milk went on the table next to him, while the cake stayed on top of his belly as he sat down. He didn’t have to lean back far before the top of his belly was level, allowing him to balance the cake on it as he ate.
With one hand holding the platter steady, Bubba grabbed the serving fork and scooped out a giant piece of the cake, before eating it in one bite. “Mmmph,” he grunted, discovering the cake had several layers, with chocolate ganache between each. The moist cake and rich ganache melted together in his mouth, mingling decadently and demanding that he eat more. Before he’d finished swallowing his first bite, he stuck the fork in the cake to take another, even bigger one, and ate that all at once too. When he found it difficult to chew that much cake, he took a drink of milk, helping him get it all down.
The cake was so enticing that Bubba couldn’t stop himself from shoveling it in. His mouth was never empty as he wolfed it down, not until he’d eaten the last of it, and chased it with the last bit of milk left in the jug. With only crumbs left on the platter, and a ring of ganache and bits of cake around his mouth, he tossed the platter aside and let the empty milk jug fall on the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before wiping it off with one of the paper napkins strewn on the table. With a grunt, he leaned farther back in his recliner, now so full that he could feel his gut stretching to make room for all the food he’d eaten.
“Mmmmm,” Bubba muttered contentedly. His hands rested on the top of his belly, his fingers gently tapping his taut gut. He knew better than to tap much harder; a belly that full didn’t like to be disturbed. But he was finding himself feeling thirsty once again. If he wanted to quench it, he’d have to stand up.
“Sorry, buddy,” Bubba said as he gave his belly a few pats. After grabbing the armrests of the recliner, he pulled himself up. Immediately, his stomach gave him a piece of its mind, a sharp pain spreading across the entire sphere as he strained to lean forward. But he pushed through, knowing that on the other side of that struggle was his next beverage, and even more to eat.
After some struggle, Bubba was standing up again, burping more as the food settled in his stomach. He gently patted his stuffed gut, before waddling his way back into the kitchen. With a whole cake and a jug of milk having joined his three dinners, he ambled with shorter steps and a wider stance. His intense fullness compelled him to lean back, giving his gut more room to stretch out and adjusting his balance to account for how much more front-heavy he was.
Slowly but steadily, Bubba made it to the kitchen. He went for the fridge and grabbed another gallon of milk, opening it but holding onto the cap, in case he didn’t finish this one. He took a swig of it, but finished barely a fourth of it. His stomach was so full that even that much left him grunting “Oof” and trying to rub his belly with his left hand while still holding the cap.
When Bubba looked up, his eyes landed on a giant storage tub of chocolate chip cookies, baked to be the width of a baseball. He knew for a fact those were for him, and would go great with his second helping of milk. After screwing the cap back on the jug, he grabbed the tub with his free hand and waddled his back to the living room. He moved a little faster this time, his excitement propelling him forward.
Once he was back in the living room, Bubba put the cookies and milk down on the table. As he straightened up again, he felt restricted by his athletic shorts. He reached behind him and pushed the waistband down, until he felt it slip over his ample rump. Getting it down in the front was more of a challenge, as he had to reach around his broad belly. He pushed down on the sides, which were slightly easier to reach, and tried pushing his shorts down entirely from there. The waistband felt like it was stuck between his gut and waist, but with some determination, he was able to dislodge it. Once his shorts were free, he shimmied his legs until his shorts were around his feet, and stepped out of them.
With Bubba’s hands and waist free, he grabbed the armrests of the recliner and lowered himself down yet again. It wasn’t much easier than when he’d gotten up, but this time, he had gravity working with him rather than against him. Still, he didn’t want to drop down too fast, lest he break his trusty chair. Once he felt himself against the cushion, he let go, falling into it as it gave way underneath him. He quickly leaned back, once again giving his belly more space to push out into. After breathing a sigh of relief, he gently patted his belly, before popping the top off the storage tub and opening the milk.
As another episode of the crime drama droned on, Bubba picked up the cookies and stuffed them in several at a time. As full as he was, he still couldn’t help but eat so voraciously. Especially when it was Cam’s baking. That man knew how to cook, and how to bake, which was one of the reasons Bubba had married him. The cookies were no exception; they were crispy on the edges, chewy in the middle, and made with hefty chocolate chunks rather than chips.
As with the cake, he chased his giant mouthfuls of cookies with gulps of milk, helping get them down so he could eat even more. With such voraciousness came fullness, as his stomach protested being filled any more. He could feel the tightness inside his gut intensifying, but to Bubba, it was like a challenge. And when beating the challenge meant eating more cookies and drinking milk, he was more than up for it.
And so Bubba kept shoving the cookies in, lazily chewing them with his mouth still open, gulping down milk when he needed help swallowing. A few burps made their way out as he ate, but with so little room left for air in his stomach, they weren’t quite as powerful as the ones before. A few crumbs accumulated around his mouth, with a milk mustache showing up underneath his actual mustache, as he was too tired to wipe away either. The swelling mound of food and milk in his stomach was pulling him toward food coma, and as he grew wider, he grew more powerless to resist it.
But still he kept eating, until his hand landed in the storage tub and felt only crumbs. Bubba’s hand flopped around the empty container a few times before his half-awake mind realized there were none left. With a slight smirk, he brought the milk jug to his mouth one more time, emptying what was left until there was only what little milk clung to the sides. Some of the milk dribbled down the side of his mouth, but he could barely bring himself to wipe that off. Instead he let his arm fall limp, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
The TV played to an inattentive audience as Bubba lay back in his recliner. The light from the screen flashed on his planetary gut, which had swelled so much that his tank top could barely cover the top half. His gut hung several feet out from underneath the shirt’s bottom hem, which stretched around his belly like a rubber band pulled to its limits. His white boxers with red hearts were barely visible from underneath his massive gut. So stuffed was his belly that as he reclined back, it rose above his chest, and would have obscured his view of the TV if he cared to watch it.
But Bubba was instead asleep, snoring loudly enough to rival the TV speakers. His mouth lay agape, surrounded by crumbs and milk dribbles that clung to the stubble on his round face. One of his burly, broad arms was propped up behind him, like a pillow. The other still hung at his side, with the empty milk jug stuck to his fingers, a lone drop of milk teetering from the opening.