Warnings: Extreme weight gain, stuffing/feeding, my writing.
"You have got to be kidding me! Baby Mario, I swear I'm going to punch you in the baby dick if you run me over one more time!" You flail your controller as you're smushed for the third time this race.
"Why are babies even driving, is this some bleak Mario future where children are forced to compete in death races," Dave says, "are they promised diapers and a cash prize if they get first place."
You snort at the comment, but your attention is quickly brought back to the game when you take eighth place. "Aw, what! Man, I really need to step my game up."
"Let's be honest here, are you ever going to beat me at Mario Kart? Or the CPUs for that matter?"
You can see the smirk pulling the corner of his mouth and you sigh. Without leaving your spot on the floor, you turn off the system with you toe and change the television back to cable; Dave just puts his controller down and settles into a more comfortable position. Every movement he makes sends a jiggle through at least one part of his body. Pushing his back against the couch makes his stomach wobble until is settles heavily between his thighs; there's barely a gap between them, his thick legs spread out when relaxed in a sitting position. You look away.
If you're going to be honest with yourself, it's hard to do mundane things like this with your best friend without catching yourself staring. Dave has always been a little larger than most, but through the years you've known him you've noticed his growth in height hasn't counter balanced his growth in width. It's not that you mind at all, quite the opposite really. Dave's always been stocky and wide, and the weight looks good on him. You're attracted to your best bro, and that's probably a problem.
Dave shifts again, resting his hands on his belly as he shimmies down, leaning his head against the couch cushion; his stomach spreads outwards as he almost lays down, but it still curves up, defying gravity. You didn't notice you were staring again until Dave glances over, his eyes masked behind his shades. He begins to say something, but unfortunately (or fortunately, given the circumstances) your father interrupts, calling from the kitchen that dinner is ready.
"We'll be right in," you reply, turning off the TV. You shrug at Dave. "I mean, you're staying, right?"
"As much as I love microwaveable burritos and Cheez-its a la Strider, I think I could handle a home cooked meal."
You roll your eyes but smile, waiting for Dave to follow into the kitchen; it takes him a moment to get up, the exertion of the movement makes his cheeks flush red and your heart thump weirdly. You try to ignore it.
Dad has dinner set out on the dining table already: just baked garlic bread, chicken parmigiana with linguine and fresh marinara. It looks good to you, but you know Dave is enamored by the meal. You both sit, Dave taking his usual seat beside you, and proceed to dig in. Conversation is minimal, only small talk mostly directed by your father, while Dave is quiet. You're just happy to see him eat whole heartily and without shame.
Plates are cleared (after Dave's third helping), and dessert is offered. You decline, but Dave stays seated; you suppose you can stay for cake. Dad cuts a thick slice for Dave, who takes the plate with a small smile on his lips. You know he loves your father's cooking, and his baking even more. The piece is eaten quickly, and when Dad is done with his moderate one he excuses himself to his study, leaving you to finish cleaning up. You groan, getting up from your seat, grabbing for the cake to put it away. Dave's line of sight is directed at the baked good though, and you hesitate. "You want another slice, dude?"
He smirks. "Is that an offer or a polite request?"
Your mouth suddenly goes dry as you try to answer. You swallow and thankfully find your works. "Aha, real funny," you pick up the cake, "I was just asking, I know for a fact you could eat your weight in my dad's cakes."
"You know me too well, Egbert," he reaches for the plate and you hesitate. You were half kidding, but you didn't expect Dave to be serious. You hand the dessert over and the blond promptly cuts another large piece of cake, plopping it on his own plate. Watching him eat the fluffy, chocolate confection makes it almost tempting to try a slice yourself. Almost.
It doesn't occur to you that standing there, watching, is just a little bit weird. Dave doesn't seem to mind either way, and carries on sliding forkful after forkful into his mouth. You watch his plump, freckled and rosy cheeks work as he eats and his double chin crease when he looks down, sliding his fork through the icing and spongy layers. Your stomach twists and you have to turn around, focusing on finishing the dishes instead. You can hear over the sound of your scrubbing that Dave is cutting himself another slice and your stomach does a 180.
You glance over your shoulder for one reason or another (defiantly not to see for yourself, totally) and you notice Dave's shirt has grown tighter around his midsection, and for good reason too. He has a large appetite, but it wasn't like he had an empty stomach before dinner; the "snack" you two got after school was certainly not a small one for him. You're surprised he can even finish his third piece of cake without slowing down. You wonder if he could finish the cake by himself.
He seems to be content though, and helps you clear the rest of the table before heading up to your room. You put on something to watch on your computer and you both take a spot on your bed, taking a minute to find the most comfortable spot. Dave is rather close, you notice, his thigh is nearly touching yours. You subtly try to inch your leg over, but Dave all up and shuffles up against you, trying to find a better position to watch the screen. Maybe he doesn't notice, but his side is molded against your hip and his shoulder pressing yours. You've shared personal contact with Dave multiple times before, but you're painfully aware of the soft fat that's pushing against you and how you can hear him inhale and exhale this closely. This just isn't fair.
From this angle you can see his profile, and his eyes behind the shades; Dave is looking at you and when yours eyes meet you turn you attention back to the screen. You can still feel his gaze though and suddenly the guilt hits you. What if he's caught you staring? You try to shuffle away, feeling self conscious in the way your hip bone greets his plush love handle, but Dave pursues and you realize you'll fall off the bed if you keep trying to push away. He has you trapped and it occurs to you he's probably doing this on purpose. You feel rotten.
You want to apologize, but there's nothing really to say, so you stay quiet, painfully keeping your eyes diverted away from the blond.
You quickly give up and glance at his face for a second, just to read his expression: unreadable. As far as you can tell he's not bothered or upset, and you relax, just noticing how tensely arched your back was leaning away. You settle back against Dave's side, trying not to over think the situation. And then Dave wraps an arm around you. It's a slow movement, his fingers reaching around your side and bringing you into an awkward embrace. You're caught between him, your shirt pulled up in the action, half leaning onto his shoulder and legs still sprawled the opposite way. It's not entirely comfortable, and when Dave's hand creeps along your bare skin of your exposed side and lower back, you laugh nervously. "Someone's a little handsy tonight."
"Well I don't see you complaining about it," Dave replies, loosening his hold. You shift closer, partly because the position you're in is stressing your back, but mainly just because you're surprised this is happening. You might as well take advantage.
As soon as you settle Dave moves you, his hands suddenly on your hips, and you practically crawl into his lap. His sunglasses have slipped down his nose, and his visible gaze is directed at your mouth. He smells like garlic and chocolate, but it doesn't stop you from leaning in and pressing your lips to his. It's not a smooth kiss. Dave opens his mouth, and you'd be lying if you thought it wasn't gross; you continue though, sloppily pecking on and around his lips. Your glasses bump into his and you laugh. You've been waiting for this for far too long, and you're beyond nervous.
"You're such a loser," you mumble, sitting on Dave's thighs. You're not sure how far you can go, but Dave's hands move to your lower back and you think you're doing alright.
"I think you have that wrong, dude," he starts to say, but he keeps fighting to not smile and ends up just pressing his lips to your cheek. "I'm the smooth one here, Egbert."
"Yeah, as smooth as sloppy," you move your face away, your cheek wet with saliva, "but really?"
"Hey, you seemed willing enough," he half shrugs, but you can see his ears turning red, "like you could even keep your eyes off me."
You groan, but smile. "Shut up, you dork," you say and lean in for another kiss.
Dave sits back, ducking his head away. "Not so fast there, champ, we got things to discuss."
Sitting back on your heels, you wait for him to continue. You sigh when he doesn't. "About?"
Dave's expression is unreadable, but pensive. "I think it's pretty obvious you like me, I mean, I know that isn't hard or anything but-"
"-get to the point, you buttface."
"God damn, calm down. But man, do you have a fat kink or something?" You must of made a face because Dave laughs. "I don't care either way, I just wanted to know. I think it's pretty funny."
"Dude," you start to say in almost whine, completely caught off guard. You end up just sitting there, no words coming to mind.
Dave shrugs. "It's pretty obvious. Just figured I'd bring it up."
," you start to say, but if you'd be honest with yourself, you know you couldn't defend yourself. It was a little obvious. "I don't know, I guess?"
"Alright, no biggie," and Dave goes back to pursuing in slipping his hands back to your ass.
You lean back, "wait, seriously? You're completely okay with that."
"Yeah, as long as you're completely okay with me kissing your face in a second. What, did you want me to flip a shit over it, kick and scream that you raking me with your eyes was noticeable as hell?," Dave smirks and leans forward, "I mean, hell, I don't eat that much for anyone, Egbert."
You're confused. "Uh?"
He pauses in whatever motion he was going to make, but the puckered lips give it away. You feel dizzy. "Do I really need to lay it all out for you?"
"I don't know, like five minutes ago we weren't making out and now we are, so yeah, clue me in?"
Dave's lips pull into a grin as he leans back away from you, but leaving his hands on your butt; you really don't notice, anyways. "C'mon, really. It was obvious you dug me, and it's not like I haven't been for all of this anyways. With you. And there were defiantly inclinations that you liked certain things about me
"What are you even saying right now, I don't-"
"-I gained weight for you, dumbass."
"Oh." You feel pretty dumb. Mostly rotten though, and maybe a tiny bit flattered.
"Yeah, oh." Dave doesn't seem upset in admitting this, but his blushing cheeks give away that he's at least just a little bit embarrassed.
?" you say after a moment, not really how to react. Then again, you're not sure about how feel about any of this right now. "I mean geez, Dave, that's
you like me that much?"
He shrugs. "Well, you noticed, so mission accomplished."
"You could've just said something! Not everything you do has to be some form of one-up showmanship."
"Yeah, but watching you squirm is really fucking entertaining." Dave ducks his head near your shoulder, suddenly close again. His nose bumps into your cheek, his lips brushing your skin. "Besides, maybe I kinda like it myself. Who knows?"
You're at a loss of words when Dave moves his lips closer to yours, his glasses bumping into yours again. You're more focused on other things right now, though.
You lean into him, your mouth almost close enough to meet his, but you pause in the motion when you hear a gurgling growl. For a second you're confused, but can't help laughing when Dave pulls back, looking down at his stomach. "Really, dude? You couldn't wait?" he asks his middle, prodding it. His fingers push in, but are met with plush resistance. He glances up at you, breaking your stare. "You mind if we take a snack break?"
You swallow. "Not really," a smile playing on your lips, "I'll uh
go find you something." It takes a moment to get off the bed, your whole body feels stiff and weird. You try to ignore your hammering heart as you leave the bedroom, still in disbelief of tonight's events. There's a lot of unsaid things, but you don't know how to bring it up, or what to say. The only thing on your mind is getting Dave something to eat.
Your limbs feel like noodles when you amble down the staircase, nearly stumbling over your own feet. The living room and hallway to the study are dark, but a pale light illuminates from the kitchen. You pop your head in, and find it to be empty besides a lone, large cake sitting on the counter. Your father must of baked one last thing before heading off to bed. You're sure he won't miss it.
Dave is texting something when you slip back into your room, and only looks up when you place the cake in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at you. "All for me?"
"Sorry I didn't think to portion size it for you," you shoot back, but realize you were a little too eager to bring the whole thing up here. "Do you want me to go get some plates or something?"
"Naw, who needs that shit when I have these," you're not sure what he's referring to until he picks out a slice with his hands. Either he doesn't notice or care that you're watching as he takes a large bite, smudging a bit of frosting and cake crumbs on his cheek.
You sit down next to him, not quite sure what to do with yourself, and end up nervously playing with a fold in your comforter to divert yourself from staring. You glance upwards anyways though, and notice Dave has paused, cocking an eyebrow at you; oh, right. That was the whole point of bringing the cake up here. "Geez, Egbert, if you're really that uninterested
"Man shut up, I'm still just weird about this. I don't really know what to do."
"Well here, lemme at least give you something to do with your hands," Dave mummers and shuffles closer to you. He takes your hand and gives you the rest of the slice of cake he had been eating. You furrow your eyebrows and he laughs, shaking his head. "Really?"
Dave guides your hand toward himself; you realize what he's doing and tense. "You want me to
"Yeah," he says, hesitantly still grasping your hand. He pursues though and brings the cake to his mouth; your fingertips brush his lips and the hair on the back of your next prickle from the touch. He takes a slow bite, his hand drifting away from yours and down back to the bed. It's all up to you now.
You slide closer to him so your arm doesn't have to stretch out, your knee prodding the side of his plump thigh. Dave's taken another large bite, the cake crumbling in your hand. You're about to set the crumbs down but the blond swallows and grabs for your hand, eating off your palm. You shudder, his tongue warm on your skin. It's a foreign sensation, but exhilarating. When Dave's licked off all the frosting in your hand, you find yourself reaching for another slice of cake. This time, however, you're a little more confident in feeding him the piece.
You can't tell where Dave is looking, but you swear you can see his eyes closed in pleasure behind his sunglasses. You're glad that he's enjoying himself as you are, giving him chunk after sliver of cake. You're not keeping track of how much of a dent he's made in the dessert, but Dave certainly has eaten a lot more than he should be able to. And that's when you notice.
Dave is expanding, and has been rapidly. You're taken aback, watching him grow with each bite he takes. His stomach is the first thing you notice, the creamy, white flesh creeping out of his shirt, his freckled belly pushing out and over his waistband. The denim is stretching, trying to contain his thick thighs, but the button gives up and pops clear off, the pants zipper ripping down from the force. Dave's large middle is free and still growing, his already form fitting shirt taught and rising up; the seams are beginning to split and you're sure he might just burst out of his clothes.
The teen realizes you've stopped feeding him and takes note of his sudden growth. "Oh shit," he curses, his hands flying to protruding middle. His fingers search up and down the plush fat, plucking at the ripping fabric. He doesn't look up at you when he says, "that was some fucking cake, Egbert."
You're just plain shocked. "I didn't- I-" you stutter, but the words stop coming when Dave grabs for your hand. His fingers are a little more plump than usual, and for a second you're calmed down. However, he hands you another piece of the cake in question, and you're left spinning circles in your head. "You really want- what? Dave, I don't know what this is doing to you but-"
"You're not complaining though," he says, moving your hand closer to his lips, "and I'm still hungry."
You're unable to move, your mind overloaded with too many thoughts, but realize Dave's right. It's hard looking at your friend like this, cake inches from his lips, without thinking about the slight tightness in your pants. Dave is really attractive. His face is fuller than before, his pudgy cheeks freckled and creamy, a light tinge of a blush dusted across his face. His slight second chin is now a full blown one, with a third on the way. Your eyes wander downward past his chest, his soft breasts now larger and supported by sitting on top of his bloated belly. The latter is now his prominent feature, pushing out and down into his lap, nearly reaching down to his knees. You're intoxicated.
Dave's hand has been posing yours the whole time, and you're only brought out of your thoughts when he guides your fingers to his mouth, taking a slow bite from the cake. You're overcome with a surge of sudden desire and stuff the rest of the pastry as he tries to take another bite. He makes a noise in his throat, something between a sound of surprise and a moan, but doesn't seem to be upset. Instead, he waits for you to feed him another piece, and another, until there's only but crumbs and globs of frosting left on the platter.
He still has your hand, and gently licks the smudged icing off your fingers until they're clean; Dave smiles when he's done. You grin back, abashed. "Some cake, huh?"
"Best fuckin' cake I've ever had," he mummers a reply, reaching for your other hand. You watch him intertwine his fingers with yours, and pulls you closer. You scramble into his lap, pressed against his exposed stomach; he's warm and find yourself leaning closer into the embrace. Dave gingerly wraps his arms around you and you're enveloped in plush, heated softness. "Crazy body morphing cakes aside, you're cool with all of this?"
You sit back, finally able to take in everything; the kisses, realizing you may or may not be more than best friends now, Dave's willingness to put on weight for you, Dave actually putting on weight right before you and yeah. "I'm pretty cool with it," you say, planting a kiss under Dave's fat chin.