Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/698797.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_No_Sburb_Session, Alternate_Universe_-_Age_Gap,
      Underage_-_Freeform, Feeding, Weight_Gain, Captivity, Dubious_Consent,
      Stuffing, Force_Feeding, Age_Difference, Sexual_Frustration, funnel
      feeding
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-25 Completed: 2016-10-25 Chapters: 19/19 Words: 33145
****** Dessert ******
by Bontaque
Summary
     Dave Strider is still in school. John Egbert is his twenty-something
     neighbour who likes to bake and thinks the kid next door could use a
     few good meals.
Notes
     This is written for Sam, based one of their own scenarios.
     It contains kidnap, force feeding, weight gain, stuffing and other
     things that you might not be ready to read. I've left the ages a
     little ambiguous, in case people would prefer Dave to be older or
     younger.
***** Drinks *****
 “No fucking way,” Dave whispers to himself.
His breath is visible in the cold air and he shudders as he sits down on his
doorstep. It's fucking freezing, threatening to snow and he's forgotten his
goddamn keys. Why they had to move so far up north is beyond him. Every minute
feels like a year as he pulls his arms around himself, trying to stop his teeth
from chattering because that shit looks ridiculous.
He must look stupid, he thinks, as his next door neighbour parks his car and
walks up to his front door.
“You're going to freeze,” John says. “Why are you out here?”
“Forgot my keys,” Dave replies with a shrug, like it's no big deal that he's
turning into a human popsicle.
“Wanna come with me and keep warm until someone can let you in?” John offers.
Dave shakes his head. He doesn't even know John. He sees him a few times a week
and the goof is always smiling, but this is the first time he's ever spoken to
him.
“It's fine, they wont be long,” he says.
John laughs and raises his eyebrows.
“Come on, kid, I can't leave you out here.”
Dave sighs and stands up. He's sure he would have regretted staying outside.
“Thanks,” he says.
John's house is weird. There's movie memorabilia everywhere and Dave's sure he
sees a bucket balanced on top of one of the doors as John leads him through to
the kitchen.
There's a couch in the guy's kitchen. Dave doesn't even know what to think
about that.
“You want something to drink?” John asks. “I can make you some cocoa if you
need to warm up.
“Uh... have you got any apple juice?” Dave asks.
John nods and walks to the fridge. Dave looks around the room, trying to work
out who he's dealing with. There's a movie poster above the sink and a large,
old looking book on the table. All it tells Dave is that his neighbour probably
has shitty taste in the movies.
“Anything else I can get you?” John asks. “Are you hungry?”
Dave is a little, but he shakes his head. It feels weird enough being in a
strangers kitchen, he doesn't need to eat there, too.
John leaves him there, sipping his apple juice whilst he goes upstairs to
shower. Dave stays put, not sure if the house is safe to explore after the
bucket sighting. John returns in a fresh shirt sometime later. His hair is damp
and he seems a little nervous, which is ridiculous. He's twenty-something, he
shouldn't be nervous.
“You sure I can't get you something to eat?” he asks. “You look like you could
use a meal or two.”
Dave shakes his head but feels his cheeks flush. He's skinny and he knows it;
he's been trying to bulk up, waiting for the puberty fairy to wave her magic
wand.
The clock on the wall reads five o’clock. Someone should be home soon. John
walks back to the fridge and pours Dave another glass of of apple juice without
asking. Dave doesn't mind, he can drink apple juice any time.
John obscures his view when he pours the drink, so Dave looks elsewhere. His
eyes fall on the open fridge, which is mostly empty aside from a monstrously
large chocolate cake. It looks sickly sweet and Dave's stomach growls.
John hands him his glass but doesn't say anything. Dave guesses that the sound
didn't carry, that he's safe. Of course, he's wrong.
It takes three sips for him to feel a sudden wave of exhaustion.
***** Breakfast *****
 
Dave wakes up on a bed. He doesn't recognise the room but the décor suggests
he's still in John's house. His head feels like there's a balloon expanding
inside of his skull. He feels like he can't move. Did he black out? He tries to
turn his head but he can't even remember how.
His head spins and he blacks out again.
When Dave wakes up for the second time, he can hear birdsong. He's still on the
bed but he can't move his arms. He looks up and sees silver wrapped around his
wrists. Shiny, metal handcuffs hold him in place. They're loose on his slender
forearms, but just tight enough to stop him from slipping his hands out. He
assumes it's some kind of prank and the cuffs are loose so they don't hurt him.
He's wrong again.
The next thing Dave is aware of is the scent of bacon frying and his crippling
hunger. He thinks about calling out to John, because hahaha great prank, dude,
now let me go... but it seems a little needy. He looks around the room more.
It's mainly empty, no windows, nothing but a lamp that illuminates the white
walls.
John appears in the doorway some ten minutes later, carrying a tray. Dave tries
to sit up, but he can't.
“You're finally awake,” John says happily.
He sets the tray down next to Dave and then crawls onto the bed.
“Uh... are you going to let me go now?” Dave asks.
Even as he speaks, he knows that the likelihood of it all being a joke is slim,
but he can't think of an alternative. What kid of person kidnaps the kid next
door?
“Breakfast first,” John says.
Dave frowns. That's when he realises the room is too light. His shades are
gone.
“Why?” he asks.
“I told you, you could do with a good meal,” John tells him.
“So, what? You chain people up if you think they should eat more?” Dave asks.
“'Cause that's pretty weird, I mean I'm sure there are laws agains -”
John stops Dave from speaking by pushing a slice of bacon into his mouth. Dave
wants to spit it out, because it's just weird but he's starving and bacon is
the food of the gods.
“What was I supposed to do?” John asks. “You refused when I offered you
something to eat.”
As soon as Dave swallows, John raises another piece of bacon to his lips. It's
crunchy, salty, perfectly cooked. Dave doesn't protest when John keeps feeding
him, more and more bacon passing his lips, until the plate is empty.
“Thirsty?” John asks.
Dave nods his head and gratefully drinks down half a glass of apple juice when
John presses a straw into his mouth. John places the glass back on the tray and
picks up the only other thing left on it. It's a bowl of something that looks
kind of white and lumpy; Dave isn't sure he likes the idea of having it in his
mouth.
“No, it's cool, I mean I just ate ten slices of bacon, right?” Dave protests.
“I'm good.”
“Fourteen,” John corrects.
He dips a large spoon into the bowl and raises it to his lips. Dave doesn't
open them, he isn't going to eat whatever that goop is.
Except the goop is hot and so is the spoon. It's hot enough to burn his lips,
so Dave doesn't have much of a choice about opening his mouth.
When the sugary porridge hits Dave's tongue, he had to hold back a moan. It's
delicious. He likes bacon and savoury food as much as anyone, but he has more
than a little bit of a sweet tooth.
The porridge isn't lumpy at all as he swallows it down. John feeds him a second
spoonful and then another, barely giving him time to breath between mouthfuls.
It's sweet and wonderful and Dave doesn't even have to chew or do anything
other than keep swallowing.
The porridge is so thick, though and before long, Dave can feel it settling
heavily in his stomach. He's full, but he's sure that there can't be much more
in the bowl. After three more spoonfuls, he finds it harder to swallow, so he
shakes his head when John tries to slip a fourth into his mouth.
“Ungh... no, man, that's enough,” he says.
John just shakes his head and pulls the spoon back a fraction.
“It'll get cold, Dave,” John says. “You've only got a few more spoonfuls.”
“And then you'll let me go home?” Dave asks.
“You need to finish your breakfast first,” John tells him.
Dave sighs and opens his mouth. He swallows the porridge with difficulty and
his eyes widen at the next spoonful. It's heaped with porridge and, sure, there
might only be three spoonfuls left, but with the size of that spoon, that's
practically a whole bowl.
He forces himself to swallow it but then his stomach gurgles in protest.
There's a dull ache in his abdomen and he groans but John doesn't take any
notice.
Another two spoonfuls go down and Dave finds it difficult to inhale.
“Last one,” John tells him.
He makes a big deal out of scraping the porridge from the edges of the bowl
before pushing the spoon into Dave's mouth for the last time.
Dave breathes out slowly after he swallows, trying to keep his cool and make
more room inside of himself as John piles the empty crockery onto the tray.
Then he just gives Dave a glance over, smiling, before leaving him alone on the
bed.
Dave waits for him to return with a key to the handcuffs, but he hears the
front door open and close instead.
***** Lunch *****
Dave is bored. Insanely bored. He's stretched out on the bed, stomach still
full from breakfast and there is nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.
Eventually, he dozes off, the food in his belly making him sleepy.
When he wakes up, he can tell that it's a few hours later, despite the lack of
windows. He has a thing about time; he's late to everything, but it's more of a
case of not caring and not wanting to get there before anyone else, rather than
not noticing.
He hears the front door open and he doesn't know what to expect. John walks
into the room, smiling as always, with a McDonald's bag in his hands.
“Time for lunch,” he says brightly.
“No,” Dave protests. “Nope, you said you'd let me go after breakfast.”
“I never said directly after,” John argues.
The grin never leaves his face as he sits down on the edge of the bed again,
opening the bag.
The smell of greasy food fills the air and Dave hates the way that his mouth
waters. He's not hungry but it smells really good. Still, he tugs at the
handcuffs, trying to pull himself free. This guy is obviously messed up.
“No point in struggling, you'll only hurt yourself,” John says absently.
“Just let me go,” Dave pleads, trying to keep his voice even.
“We're going to do this, whether you make it easy or not,” John replies as he
pulls a carton of fries out of the bag. “As I said, struggling is only going to
hurt you so just go with it.”
He raises his hand to Dave's face, holding a few fries. Dave opens his mouth
and accepts the food. John slowly feeds him the whole carton before pulling a
drink out of the bag.
Dave sucks at the straw, expecting soda but cold, thick milkshake floods his
mouth instead. Sickly sweet, it flows down into his stomach with ease.
John pulls a burger out of the bag next, unwrapping it slowly before holding it
out. His eyes are on Dave's lips as he takes a bite. The beef is greasy but
good. He makes it through half of the burger before John replaces the food with
the straw again. Dave sucks slowly, trying to avoid brain freeze.
It's a miracle that he succeeds and, as the straw starts sucking on air, Dave
starts to feel full again. Not bloated like after breakfast, but full enough to
make him worry about what else might be in the bag.
He gets through the other half of the burger, chewing it thoroughly, hoping
that it will make some kind of a difference.
John reaches into the bag and pulls out another burger. Dave takes a deep
breath while he still can.
“Oh, don't worry, this is for me,” John tells him. “You need to save room for
dessert, I'll be back later.”
***** Dinner *****
When John leaves Dave alone again, he strains his ears to try to make out what
John is up to. He doesn't hear anything but the occasional footstep.
A few hours pass and Dave takes to trying to ease his hands out of the cuffs.
It's more of a way to pass the time than a genuine escape plan; if he was able
to get free, he would have done it already.
He's just about to go out of his mind with boredom when the most delightful
scent hits him. It smells like a bakery, all sweet and warm and Dave supposes
that must be the dessert that John had mentioned.
Dave hears the clattering of pots and pans... and humming. He thinks back to
the cake in the fridge and wonders if John baked it himself. There are
footsteps on the stairs and John walks into the room. He's holding the same
tray as before but there's no bacon or porridge this time.
The tray is laden with cupcakes, at least half a dozen with different coloured
frosting. They look good enough to sell in some pretentious store. Aside from
the cupcakes, there's a large glass of milk, a plate of cookies and a huge
slice of the chocolate cake that had been in the fridge. John is wearing a
ridiculous Kiss The Cookapron and he has flour in his hair.
“Please, tell me you're going to eat some of that, too,” Dave says as John sits
down. “Because there is now way... in hell... that I'll be able to eat all of
that.”
Dave doubts he could force it all down at his hungriest and with all of the
food he's already eaten, he'll be lucky to get through half.
“Maybe you'll surprise yourself,” John replies. “Everyone knows that dessert is
the best part of the meal.”
“So you made all this?” Dave asks, stalling for time.
“Yeah, look at me, I'm becoming my father.”
Dave doesn't know what John means but he doesn't get any time to think about it
as a pink cupcake is pressed against his mouth. He considers refusing, fighting
it in some way, but he knows he'll just make a fool out of himself. That and,
from the moment the pink icing touches his lips, he needs to taste it.
Dave licks at the sticky substance and then immediately takes a bite. It's so
sweet and creamy, it's actually pretty fucking perfect, so he can't help the
way he devours the cake.
John watches him with awe, pressing stray crumbs back into Dave's mouth, before
picking up the next cake.
The frosting is green and it tastes a little different, kind of fruity, but
it's just as good. The orange one is tangy and Dave thinks it might be the best
so far.
John gives him a sip of milk and the break makes Dave realise he's already
feeling a little full. The baked goods are delicious, but they're rich and he
doesn't think he's ever eaten so much in his life.
John's hand hovers over the tray for a moment before he decides on a cookie.
Dave takes a hesitant bite, chewing the soft, doughy food slowly. The chocolate
chips are a nice touch.
The next cupcake is light blue. There's a lot of frosting and it tastes like
blueberries. Each bite feels like an entire cake, but Dave keeps eating.
John unwraps a lime green cupcake slowly, swiping a finger through the mound of
frosting on top and pressing it between Dave's lips. Dave frowns, but he sucks
and licks his finger clean, worried about what John might do if he makes him
angry.
The sugary taste is almost too much and he isn't sure if it's all just getting
to him or if the blue cake is actually that much sweeter.
John doesn't reach for more food after the cake is finished and Dave lets
himself hope that he's going to stop.
John isn't going to stop, not until the tray is empty, but Dave gets a little
time to breathe as he looks at him.
He just stares at Dave's abdomen before running his fingers over it. Dave
gasps, because John's touch is feather light but it puts pressure on his
stomach. He's sure it's bulging out, no longer as flat as always.
John picks up the plate of cookies. There are five left and he pushes one
between Dave's lips, making him chew fast to fit it all into his mouth. Dave
barely has time to swallow before another one is being crammed in after the
last. John has a slightly wild look in his eyes and Dave is scared for the
first time.
Until now, Dave had just thought it was some crazy neighbour thing, in the
funny-crazy way but he's worried it might be more of a crazy-crazy way.
Dave fights to breathe between mouthfuls of cookie, but eventually, the plate
is empty. Dave gratefully gulps down the milk when it is offered to him. It
trickles down his throat and Dave feels his stomach bloat outwards with each
swallow.
There are three cupcakes left and that's before Dave even thinks about the
slice of chocolate cake. He doesn't think he's going to be able to finish it
all, not even close.
John picks up the purple cupcake. It has a spiral of frosting and what looks
like a dusting of black glitter. Dave hesitates when John holds it out for him
to eat.
“Come on, open up,” John says, coaxing him to take a bite.
The flavour of blackberries explodes in his mouth and Dave swallows quickly.
Another bite and his stomach feels stuffed, like there's no way he can take
another bite. He tells John so.
“Come on, you can at least finish this one,” John tells him.
He holds the remainder of the cake out and Dave reluctantly lets him push it
into his mouth.
He chews, enjoying the taste but dreading swallowing it. Dave groans when his
mouth is empty, fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. He wants to run a hand
over his stomach, to ease the stretching feeling but he can't, he can't do
anything.
John picks up the dark blue cupcake. Dave shakes his head.
“I can't,” he says. “I really can't.”
John raises his eyebrows expectantly as he holds to cake out to Dave. When Dave
just looks at it, John reaches his free hand out and forces his mouth open.
“I told you not to struggle,” John says. “Come on, this one is my favourite,
you'll be fine.”
Dave can't do anything but chew as the cake is pushed into his mouth. Each
swallow takes effort and he's sure he's about to burst. When the cake is gone,
he looks down at his stomach. It's pushing up against his shirt, the fabric
straining around him.
The last cupcake is red and a little larger than the others. John presses the
straw into Dave's mouth before he picks it up, but even drinking the milk feels
impossible.
His stomach aches, it almost hurts and his skin feels stretched to the limit.
“Last one, come on, it's not that much,” John says quietly as he holds the red
cake near Dave's mouth.
Dave shakes his head, pointlessly.
“I really can't, please...” he says.
He doesn't want to beg but it's getting hard to breathe and his pants feel
tight around his waist.
John just rolls his eyes and forces Dave's mouth open again. Dave fully plans
to spit the cake out, but he doesn't get the chance. John presses half of the
cake into him and then clamps his hand over his mouth. Dave doesn't do anything
but try to shout around the food in his mouth but John just uses his other hand
to pinch his nose closed. Dave can't breathe, can't spit anything out. His only
choice is to chew, as fast as he can. He swallows frantically, feeling the mass
of cake add to the huge amount of food in his stomach, but then he can breathe
again.
“I told you, easy way or hard way, your choice,” John says.
Dave takes small bites of the rest of the cupcake and John looks delighted when
it is all gone.
All that remains is the chocolate cake. Dave shudders when he looks at it. He
loves chocolate, but the slice looks as big as his head and he knows there is
no way he can eat it.
John makes Dave finish the milk before he continues to feed him. When he
finishes drinking, Dave feels like there is no room left in him, for food, or
air. He takes a shallow, shaky breath as John digs a fork into the cake.
He tries, he does, because he knows there is no point in struggling. When the
first forkful of chocolate is pressed into his mouth, he chews, savouring the
too-sweet, too-rich flavour. His toes clench in his shoes as he swallows. It
feels like the food is starting to pile up in his throat, like there's nowhere
else to go.
He manages another forkful, before he starts to feel sick. It hurts, he's
actually in pain and he's reached his limit.
“I can't...” he sighs and John shakes his head.
“What did I tell you?” he asks.
“No, please... I want to, I just actually can't, I'm going to be sick,” Dave
tells him.
John puts the plate down and runs his hand over Dave's stomach. He rubs small
circles into him and Dave wants to want him to stop, but it feels too good.
After a minute, the pain eases. Dave hiccups and his stomach lurches. It's
heavy and the movement just lets him feel just how much food he has inside of
him.
John raises the fork back to Dave's mouth and he swallows the cake. There's
still over half of it left on the plate and Dave just tells himself that there
is no other option but to keep eating. He manages another three forkfuls,
before the pain starts again. His pants dig into his skin and his shirt starts
to ride up a little, showing an inch of his pale stomach.
John feeds him another heaped forkful and he tries, but he can't make himself
swallow. He chews and chews, before finally forcing it down.
“Seriously, I'm gonna puke, I can't finish that,” Dave moans.
“You puke, I go downstairs and make more cupcakes,” John says.
Dave's eyes widen. He doesn't doubt that John is telling the truth. He doesn't
need to make empty threats. Another forkful of cake is shoved into Dave's
mouth. The sweetness sends a wave of nausea over him but Dave forces himself to
keep calm. He swallows the cake, focusing hard on keeping everything down.
John's spare hand keeps rubbing circles into Dave's stomach as he feeds him the
rest of the cake, until Dave shakes his head again. He can't. There's no way.
There are only two mouthfuls left but that seems like too much, way too much.
John doesn't hesitate to clamp his hand over his mouth when it's full of cake
again, forcing him to swallow by pinching his nose closed.
Tears form in Dave's eyes as he swallows. He isn't crying, he isn't. It just
hurts and his head is spinning but he manages to swallow. He feels his cheeks
bulge out as John pushes the last of the cake into his mouth. His mouth is so
full that it's hard to chew but he doesn't have a choice. His lungs burn as he
gets deprived of oxygen again.
Dave swallows and then gasps for breath as soon as John removes his hand. He
regrets that immediately; the deep breath makes his abdomen cramp.
“See, that wasn't so hard, was it?” John asks him.
Dave doesn't reply, opting to look at the ceiling instead of the way his belly
curves upwards. He flinches when he feels John's hands on the waistband of his
jeans, but he doesn't do what Dave expects him to. Instead, John just unpops
the button to Dave's jeans and lets his stomach force the zip open.
Dave groans in relief. There's an angry red mark where his waistband had been
and it stings in the open air.
John leaves without speaking, turning out the lights, plunging Dave into
darkness for the first time.
***** Elevenses *****
The next day passes in the same way. John feeds him five slices of toast and a
bowl of porridge for breakfast. He's back sooner than expected, because
apparently Dave needs elevenses, despite the fact that the porridge left him
feeling so stuffed that he's glad he doesn't have to move.
Elevenses is a bowl of pasta and meatballs that Dave only just manages to
finish. John watches him intently as he feeds him everything, rebuttoning
Dave's pants before he leaves.
They're not as tight as they had been after the cakes, but they feel
uncomfortable.
Lunch is more fries and another burger, all washed down with a shake. Dave
doesn't complain, despite the tightness in his abdomen that doesn't seem like
it's ever going to go away.
By the time he smells baking, the full feeling isn't as bad. The scent is
intoxicating and, if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of food, Dave would want
John to hurry up.
He'd felt sick by the end, sure, but there was no doubt that those cupcakes
were delicious.
John doesn't appear in his doorway and Dave wonders what he could be doing. His
stomach growls impatiently and by the time he hears footsteps, he's actually
hungry.
There are no cupcakes this time, just four pies. They're large and Dave thinks
one would be enough to fill him up. Apprehension creeps up on him when John
takes his usual place on the bed.
“You hungry?” John asks.
Dave nods, because he is. He's curious, he's only ever had apple pie before, so
he wonders what flavours John has made him.
The first one, he knows. He's seen it before and he can tell what it is by the
lime green colour. His first bite of key lime pie is amazing. It's sweet, but
not overly so and the tangy lime balances out the flavour of the cream
perfectly. Dave barely notices how much John is feeding him, until half of the
pie is gone. When it's finished, Dave groans. Feeling full is starting to feel
familiar and that's strange. He doesn't usually eat much, not until he feels
like he couldn't possibly manage another bite, at least.
The second pie, a dark looking one with a lattice top turns out to be
raspberry. Dave manages to get almost two thirds of the way through before he
starts to feel too full. He still doesn't complain, because the pie is good and
it isn't that bad yet. John strokes his hand through his hair as he feeds him.
Dave moans when John starts to feed him the third pie. It's blueberry, which is
quickly becoming Dave's second favourite flavour. He struggles to swallow, even
though he wants to.
“Full?” John asks him, much to Dave's surprise.
Dave nods and John puts the fork down. He unbuttons Dave's jeans for him and
starts to rub his stomach again. It feels embarrassingly good and Dave flushes
pink as he lets a sigh slip out of his lips.
John doesn't stop, not for a long while and when he picks up the fork again,
Dave manages to eat the rest of the third pie.
He knows the fourth is going to be a struggle, but John doesn't get scary if he
cooperates. One thing is on his side, though. The last pie is apple.
It's the best apple pie Dave has ever tasted, that's for sure. John keeps
rubbing his stomach, letting Dave take his time. He's full, so full, but he's
determined to finish the pie. He can do it and, if he does, maybe it'll make
John happy enough to let him go.
Eventually, he manages to swallow the last mouthful. John looks pleased, but he
doesn't say anything else. Dave gets left in the dark again.
***** Snacktime *****
A week passes and Dave gets used to the regular feeding. If he asks nicely,
John will bring him whatever food he wants. So instead of McDonald's for lunch,
he might get a meatball sub, or some chips and dip. He always has porridge for
breakfast, but sometimes John will cook him hashbrowns or pancakes with lots of
maple syrup.
Dave's appetite increases and it gets easier to eat the huge amounts that John
brings him, so all he has to look forward to is the amazing taste.
Dave knows it's been exactly one week, three days and fifteen hours since John
had handcuffed him to the bed when he first realises that he's gaining weight.
Of course he is, it makes sense, but he hadn't seen any evidence before.
His stomach is always at it's flattest in the morning, before breakfast. He
wakes up and stretches his legs, curling them up towards his torso and notices
the way that his belly creases a little. It's barely noticeable, but he can see
the beginnings of some rolls of fat under his tshirt. If he had his hands free,
he's sure he might be able to pinch a little between his fingers, but it's
still barely anything.
After another week, it's a different story. His shirt rides up on him, even
before John stuffs him full of porridge. There's an inch of soft flesh poking
out under the fabric and spilling over his pants. There's nothing he can do
about it, but Dave panics just a little. He doesn't know if he expects John to
let him go any time soon, if at all. He doesn't know if John just wants to keep
him chained to the bed so he can fatten him up. The thought is a little
distressing, but then his stomach grumbles. He's hungry and he can smell
sausages.
Dave doesn't pause as he eats his breakfast. He swears John must be feeding him
less because he gets so hungry sometimes. The porridge has some maple syrup
swirled into it, which makes Dave smile.
“You did really well,” John tells him, before he leaves him alone.
The front door slams, but John is back soon enough with a large box. Dave
watches as he set up a television in front of the bed.
“You must be getting bored,” John says.
Dave nods. It's the worst part of his imprisonment. He's tried everything to
keep himself occupied so even having a shopping channel to mindlessly stare at
would make him happy.
“Tell me when to stop, okay?” John asks, cycling through the channels.
Dave does and John leaves him watching cartoons. By the time it's time for
lunch, Dave is starving. John had skipped his usual elevenses, no doubt to go
out and buy the television.
Dave's mouth waters when he sees the Subway wrapper. John unwraps the foot long
meatball sub slowly, watching Dave as he does so.
“Hungry?” he asks.
Dave nods frantically and John beams. The first half of the sandwich goes down
so quickly that Dave barely remembers to breathe. He doesn't slow down until
he's almost finished, but he eats the entire thing with ease.
“I think you need more food,” John says, thoughtfully.
He disappears for a moment and returns with a few candy bars.
“Snacking can be part of a healthy diet,” he says seriously, as if any part of
what he's doing to Dave is healthy.
Dave doesn't say that, he just opens his mouth and lets John feed him. It's the
first taste of candy Dave has had since John kidnapped him and it's so good.
John feeds him three but then tells him that he needs to go. He needs to
prepare dinner.
Dave's stomach is growling by the time John returns.
“You took a while,” he says.
John just laughs at him and ruffles his hair, sitting down with the familiar
tray.
“You're getting impatient,” he says. “Am I not feeding you enough?”
Dave doesn't know what to say. Of course he is, he's feeding him so much but
Dave has little to do but eat or watch television.
He shrugs and frowns at the tray. There are no desserts, no inventive little
pastries that he's come to expect. It's just a large pepperoni pizza, which
Dave can't really complain about.
“I thought you said you needed to prepare food... did you order this in?” he
asks.
“I thought it would keep you busy whilst the cake I made you finishes baking,”
John tells him. “Don't worry, I still made you something.”
John picks up a slice of pizza and holds it out. Dave leans forward and starts
to eat. He devours the first five slices with ease, wishing John would speed
up. He barely tastes the crispy meat and melted cheese as it slides down his
throat, until he slows down a little. He starts to feel satisfied as John feeds
him the last two slices, before he leaves him alone again.
The cake is worth the wait, Dave decides. It's a large sponge, with what John
tells him is butter frosting. It's black and white, with white and dark
chocolate chips running through it.
Dave isn't sure he can finish it with ease, but he'll give it a try.
The first slice is perfect, soft and sweet and he groans as he swallows it.
John picks up another slice, not even bothering with the fork on the tray. He
pushes it into Dave's mouth a little too fast but it goes down just the same.
There's only one slice left when Dave starts to fidget. John doesn't undo his
pants like he usually does, he just picks up the cake and tells him that he can
do it. Dave takes a small bite, trying not to focus on how tight his pants
feel. He manages to swallow and then John feeds him the rest of the slice,
letting him take it slow.
Dave feels full, as he usually does after dessert. His stomach is warm and
stuffed and it isn't an unpleasant feeling. He's kind of impressed with the way
he managed to eat a whole pizza and a cake. John looks impressed, too. He
rewards him by rubbing his belly slowly, helping the food to settle in his
stomach. Dave just stretches out and enjoys it, moaning a little more than he
means to.
John's smile, the one Dave gets to see when he finishes his food without
complaining, it's kind of cute. It lights up his eyes behind his dorky glasses
and his teeth dig into his lower lip.
He's insane, obviously, but John is nice to him when he behaves. Dave hates
being alone, so he looks forward to John bringing him food.
“Are you feeling okay?” John asks.
Dave nods, he's tired and full, but he's good. His body tingles as John
massages his swollen stomach, sensation sparking under his skin. He feels his
cheeks flush when his cock starts to harden but John doesn't notice. If he
does, he doesn't say anything.
When John leaves him, Dave twitches a little, trying to get comfortable. He's
hard, but he's not sure why. Maybe because he hasn't been able to jerk off. It
fades away soon enough and he's forgotten about the whole thing when he wakes
up the next morning to the smell of pancakes.
 
***** Clothing *****
“You know, I've been here a month today,” Dave says when John brings him his
breakfast one morning.
John frowns and looks pensive. He obviously hasn't been keeping track.
“Really? How do you know?”
“I dunno, I have a good internal clock,” Dave replies. “Pretty sure it's a
month.”
Dave shifts uncomfortably on the bed. His pants are painfully tight. He's not
able to sit up, so he has to stay on his back, with his hands pulled up above
him by the cuffs. The waistband of them slices into his skin, squeezing him
tightly, whilst his shirt has ridden up above his navel.
He's sure if he'd been walking around, he would have ripped a seam at some
point, but he isn't sure if John's going to take pity on him, or just wait for
his clothes to rip and leave him there like that.
His stomach rumbles with hunger and he's happy to see a large stack of pancakes
on the plate on the bed.
He eats them happily, forgetting about the pain of his clothing until he starts
to feel stuffed. It happens more quickly, now that his stomach pushes against
the tightness of his pants. By the time his pancakes are finished and John
starts to spoon porridge into his open mouth, it's more than a little
uncomfortable.
“My pants are too tight,” Dave says when John dips the spoon back into the
bowl.
It's the first time either of them have mentioned his weight.
“I can see that,” John says. “I'll do something about them later.”
Dave keeps eating, swallowing spoonfuls of the porridge in between sips of
apple juice. He feels like the waistband of his pants is trying to squeeze him
to death as his new weight presses against it.
He shifts his hips, trying to get more comfortable as he swallows a
particularly large mouthful and then it happens. The button of his pants pops,
rolling off onto the bed as his belly surges out of the fly.
It isn't huge, by any means, but it's noticeable. If he could, he would be able
to grab a handful of flab. By the looks of it, his thighs are filling out the
legs of his pants, too.
John puts the bowl of porridge down and just stares at Dave's stomach and
groin. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the deep, red mark left by the
waistband of his pants.
Dave feels the blood rush to his cock and he hopes that John doesn't notice. He
can't see past his stomach, but he's sure the bulge must be noticeable in his
underwear. He blushes and he wishes he had his shades back. He has no idea why
he's hard. People don't get hard from popping out of their pants... maybe it's
the relief from the pain.
“Wow...” John says. “I thought that would have taken a little longer.”
He picks the porridge up again and finishes feeding him his breakfast. When
Dave is alone, he struggles out of his pants, kicking them off of the edge of
the bed so he can get comfortable. His stomach jiggles when he moves and he
feels his cock twitch.
He's calmed down by the time John returns with his lunch (two footlong meatball
subs) and a pair of loose pyjama pants for him to wear.
***** Measurements *****
Dave tries to lose track of time, but that's easier said than done. He
distracts himself with television as much as he can, but he likes weekends
best. John seems to work from home, so he's always busy, but he doesn't get
phone calls at the weekends, so he spends more time in Dave's room, changing
the channels and absent mindedly feeding him whichever snacks he has to hand.
Dave shifts uncomfortably on the bed one afternoon; his shirt has long since
given up trying to contain him and is bunched up around his ribs. John refuses
to let him change it or take it off, though. It isn't too bad, not as
uncomfortable as his pants had been but the fabric is wrinkled against his
skin. Dave still wouldn't consider himself fat, exactly. He's gained weight,
sure, but he hopes he's still on the side of chubby, although if nobody is
going to see him, it doesn't really matter.
John leaves the room, but when he returns, he doesn't have any more food. Dave
huffs in disappointment but then John locks the door.
“What's the rule about struggling?” he asks.
“There's no point, unless I'm looking to get hurt?” Dave offers.
John looks pleased and then produces two items from his pocket. One small,
shiny key and a measuring tape. He crawls onto the bed and straddles Dave's
hips, reaching above him to push the key into the lock of the handcuffs.
Dave lets his arms fall to his side once they are free. They feel heavy and
weak after being above his head for so long. John helps him sit up and move to
the edge of the bed.
When Dave stands up, he realises that he has no hope of escaping, even if he
was planning to try. His legs shake under him and he struggles to keep
standing.
“Are you okay?” John asks.
Dave nods. He isn't sure if it's the inactivity or his added weight that's
throwing him off balance. He takes a step away from the bed and John helps him
to stand up straight as he runs a hand over himself.
Dave can definitely feel the change. His angular hipbones and slim waist are
long gone, replaced with a slight belly that swells over the top of his pyjama
pants. He digs his fingers into his flesh, feeling how soft it is.
John looks him over before wrapping the tape around his waist and bringing it
together over his navel. Dave blushes when he looks down at the numbers. He
doesn't know what his waist measurement was before, but just being measured
highlights the weight he's gained. The tape reads 34, which he assumes must be
thirty four inches. He doesn't know if that's a lot, but John seems pleased.
“Get back on the bed,”John tells him.
“Are you going to lock me up again?” Dave asks.
John nods and Dave frowns. It isn't the most comfortable thing in the world,
but there's nothing he can do about it.
He moves back onto the bed, rolling onto his bed and holding his hands up so
that John can replace the cuffs. They're still loose, at least.
When John leaves, he smiles and Dave hopes that's a good sign. It is and it
isn't. The box of doughnuts he returns with looks delicious, but it looks like
it might even test Dave's newly increased appetite. There are twelve, each with
different icing and decorations, as usual.
The first one that John picks out has deep red icing. It smells like
strawberries and Dave's mouth waters as John brings it closer to his mouth. He
leaves it just out of his reach and Dave can't help whining. John chuckles and
lowers the doughnut to his lips.
Dave takes a large bite, savouring the delicious pastry before swallowing and
taking another. John feeds him the last piece before picking up the next from
the box. It's orange, with little pieces of chocolate. Dave groans when it hits
his tongue. It's sticky and delicious. It doesn't take him long to finish it.
John presses his fingers into Dave's mouth so he can suck the leftover icing
off of his skin. The yellow doughnut is lemon flavoured, topped with little
pieces of meringue. Dave is too busy enjoying the taste of the cakes to
appreciate the decoration as he finishes the lemon and starts on a dark
chocolate one, iced with silver and dusted with chocolate sprinkles. He manages
to eat four more doughnuts (two sort of green ones, a teal and a blue) before
asking John to slow down. There are four left and he thinks he might be able to
do it, but he knows it's only lunch time. John always feeds him more at the
weekends and he can't really complain.
John lets him just breathe for a few moments before pressing a plain doughnut
into his mouth. There's no icing, but delicious blueberry jelly oozes out of
the center when he bites into it. The next has white icing, with a little happy
face iced in grey. Dave struggles with his first bite, but when blackcurrant
jelly hits his tongue, he moans in delight. His stomach doesn't thank him when
he eats the rest of it fast, licking the crumbs from around his mouth.
The last two doughnuts are purple and pink. They're sickly sweet and Dave takes
deep breaths between bites but he manages to eat them both without too much
trouble. Heat curls in his stomach when John smiles at him, brushing the crumbs
off of his face before leaving him to watch television.
It isn't long until he smells food. He guesses at something tomato based, maybe
pasta and meatballs but he isn't sure. John's cooking is just as good as his
baking but his stomach gurgles as he watches cartoons. It's been a while since
he's been properly full, so full that he couldn't eat any more but he remembers
the feeling well and he knows how easy it is for John to push him that far.
By the time John returns, Dave has digested enough of the doughnuts to feel a
little better. The bowl of spaghetti bolognese on the tray doesn't look too big
and it smells wonderful. John twirls the pasta around a fork and pushes it into
his waiting mouth. Dave chews and swallows, savouring the well balanced
flavours as he devours the dish. His stomach is teetering on full by the time
the bowl is empty and John begins to dip garlic bread into the leftover sauce.
Dave prefers desserts, but he has a soft spot for garlic bread and John knows
it. He eats it quickly, despite the protests from his stomach. When John raises
a straw to his mouth, Dave hiccups and blushes. John places a hand on his
stomach, rubbing it slowly as he drinks down gulps of apple juice.
“So, strawberry or chocolate?” John asks.
Dave doesn't even have to think about his answer.
“Chocolate.”
Dave is surprised to hear John's footsteps on the stairs just minutes after he
leaves. He had hoped for some time to rest because John usually takes his time
with baking, but when he walks in the door, the reason for his sudden return is
obvious.
In John's hand is a pint of ice cream. Double chocolate, Dave's favourite. He
worries, because he isn't quite full enough to stop him enjoying the frozen
treat, but he's getting there. John turns the television off before climbing
onto the bed and moving close to Dave. He pulls the lid off of the ice cream
and Dave watches the spoon dip into the the surface. John obviously left it out
of the freezer whilst he was feeding him the pasta, because it's soft enough
already.
When he opens his mouth and sucks the ice cream off of the spoon he whimpers at
the sweet flavour. It's creamy and perfect, the chocolate chips lingering on
his tongue even after everything else has melted. John smiles and keeps
spooning the dessert into his mouth until Dave takes a shuddering breath.
“Feeling a little full?” he asks.
Dave nods but licks the melted ice cream off of his lips.
“It's been a while,” John tells him. “I think you can finish this, though.”
That's John's way of telling him that he will finish it. Dave knows. He can, he
knows he can, but it wont be easy.
He makes it through half of the ice cream before his stomach starts to ache.
John runs his fingertips over his stomach, pressing into all the right places,
making him squirm with pleasure as he presses more ice cream into his mouth.
Dave's face flushes as he feels his cock start to harden in his pyjama pants.
He knows there's no way of hiding anything in the loose fabric. John doesn't
say anything, not even when the pants start to tent a little – he just keeps
feeding him ice cream. Dave groans as he swallows, feeling the thick chocolate
delight build up inside of him. His stomach heaves as he breathes and he
watches as his shirt rolls up further with a particularly deep breath. John's
fingers push down, sinking just a little into his flesh before meeting the
resistance of his taut abdomen.
The ice cream is messy, melting slowly until it's half liquid, dripping down
Dave's lips as he tries to eat it. John runs his thumb across his chin before
dipping it into Dave's mouth so he can lick at what he didn't manage to
swallow.
Before he knows it, the spoon scrapes at the bottom of the pot. There are
another two liquidy spoonfuls that Dave swallows with effort and then John sets
the empty container on the bed.
Dave almost wishes there was more. Something about the full sensation makes him
feel like he's accomplished something and he's disappointed that there isn't
any ice cream left.
John places both of his palms flat on Dave's stuffed stomach, running them
around in swirling patterns. His hands are warm and ease the ache and
stretching feeling. Dave shudders when his hands move lower, brushing against
the sensitive lower part of his belly. John just stares at his pyjama pants and
the clear outline of Dave's cock, but he doesn't say anything.
Dave feels it twitch when John kneads his fingers into his stomach, pressing
down harder, making his insides feel tight and full to bursting.
“What is it about this that you like, exactly?” John asks, as if it's nothing.
Dave wants to protest but the proof is right there. His hips stutter off of the
bed as John's thumbs press into his flesh, so he tells the truth instead.
“I... don't know...” he breathes.
He doesn't. He knows that some people get off on weird things, he's seen the
internet. He suspects he might be into some less than standard things, but he
doesn't know what it is about his particular situation. He tells himself that
it's just the physical contact after going so long without some strider
patented self love but he doesn't believe it at all.
“Would you like me to do anything about it?”
Dave frowns, because he isn't sure what John is offering for a moment. It isn't
like John to offer at all, he just does or does not. Dave doesn't get a choice.
But he is offering and Dave knows he should say no, but the tension is right
there under his skin and his groin feels as tight as his stomach. So he nods.
John slips his hands down further, fingertips brushing the waistband of the
pyjama pants before he slips them down.
Dave pushes his hips up, letting John pull the fabric down over his hips. His
cock slips up as soon as it is released, smacking up into his gut and smearing
sticky pre come across his skin. John hesitates, before running a hand up the
shaft, palm flat against him. Dave arches up, seeking friction and John just
grins at him, letting him thrust against his hand. He curls his fingers around
him, squeezing his cock lightly and Dave can't help groaning.
He thrusts up, feeling the contents of his stomach shifting above him. It feels
heavy and he's too full, but he needs to move. John lets him keep thrusting,
his other hand still pressing into his belly. Dave wants to see, he's curious
about how John's fingers look around him and how his lower body looks lately,
but he can't see anything beyond his stomach and the tip of his cock.
John's fist pumps him slowly and Dave can't keep still. His toes curl as the
heat under his skin builds, jolts running up his spine with each flick of
John's wrist. Everything is overwhelming, he breathes hard but there's barely
room inside of him for a deep breath.
He feels his face heating up as he whimpers, thrusting up again and again.
John's grip tightens and it doesn't take much to send Dave over the edge. He
comes hard, shooting over his stomach and John strokes him through it slowly.
John leaves and Dave wonders if he's going to leave him naked and messy, but he
returns soon enough with a warm, damp cloth. He cleans the sticky ice cream off
of Dave's face first, before moving lower and wiping his stomach down
carefully.
Dave sleeps well that night.
 
                                       *
 
John doesn't measure him again for three weeks. When Dave moves to the edge of
the bed again, he feels a little unstable. He's visibly larger and the weight
gain makes him unsteady on his feet. John pulls the tape measure around him
again and his face splits into a grin when the numbers meet. Dave looks down
and sees 39. Thirty nine inches. The pyjama pants, once loose, cut into his
stomach which spills out over the top of the waistband. There's a small roll
that he can grab beneath the fabric, the bottom of his belly drooping down just
a little, nuzzling into the top of his pubic hair.
He ignores the way the weight is starting to go to his chest, pressing against
the top of his t shirt. John runs his fingers over Dave's hips, sinking them
into the supple flesh beneath his pants before helping him back to the bed.
The food keeps coming and Dave never protests. He enjoys burgers, ice cream,
huge portions of fries, anything starchy that John can cook up. He loves the
cakes best of all, especially the cheesecakes that John starts to experiment
with.
Sometimes John has to make him eat, because he just can't force any more down,
but usually Dave can handle it. He eats a lot, but he wouldn't call it
excessive. Maybe John is feeding him too much, but it doesn't seem like a big
deal. He just gives him good food and maybe that means Dave has gained a little
weight, but it isn't a big deal.
John seems happy, measuring once a week from them on. He gains an inch each
time and that seems to satisfy him for a while.
He keeps stuffing Dave full and if Dave gets aroused (which he often does) he
jerks him off and cleans him up.
Dave doesn't see how he could ever have a problem with that.
One morning, Dave wakes up and John is already in his room. It's too early for
breakfast, he knows, but John places a straw into his mouth. Dave doesn't
question it, he just sucks and drinks down the thick, sweet liquid that fills
his mouth. It tastes like ice cream and he wonders if John has decided to turn
his culinary expertise to milkshakes, too. John gives him another one after
breakfast and another between lunch and dinner.
He keeps that up the next day and then the next and Dave feels full constantly.
By the time John pulls him off of the bed at the end of the week and wraps the
tape around his middle, he's gained three inches, making it up to a round forty
five. A very round forty five.
When Dave sits down on the bed again, a seam gives out on his pants. The fabric
tears along his right thigh and John looks a little surprised. Dave blushes,
feeling his cock grow hard against the already tight crotch. He lets John pull
the pants off of him, leaving him practically naked. His shirt is bunched up
above his chest, pressing into the soft flesh there.
“You might as well go all the way and take this off, too,” he says.
John looks pensive but then grips the fabric of his shirt. Instead of pulling
it up, he pulls it down, trying to force it over Dave's body. He sucks in, to
see if it's even possible, but there's no hope.
He's left with a too small shirt pressing hard into his upper belly, just
showing how much he has grown. John looks him over, licking his lips, before
showing mercy and removing to pointless garment.
The next time John locks the door, it's a week and twenty one milkshakes later.
Dave wonders if they're just melted ice cream, because that would explain the
huge amount of calories they have to contain. He finds it hard to sit up and
the handcuffs feel tight around his wrists.
Even his forearms are chubby now, a slight red mark around them where the cuffs
press into him.
John helps him up and Dave really needs him to. Standing is harder than he
expects and he almost falls as Dave helps him up. He's wearing a baggy
shirtthat falls halfway to his knees. John had told him that was all he had
that would fit him, even though Dave knows he could have bought something else.
He doesn't mind. He's comfortable.
John pulls the measuring tape around him and Dave guesses it's going to show
47, maybe 48 but he's surprised.
His waist is just under fifty inches.
He digs his fingers into his flesh, grabbing a roll of fat large enough to fill
his hands. He feels heavy and when he runs his hands around behind him, he can
feel just as much weight on his ass.
He knows his thighs touch and that's weird. He wonders what it would feel like
to walk. His wrists ache and the red mark is still there, just above his
joints.
“Hey, do you think you could maybe leave the cuffs off?” he asks. “They're
tight. You can lock the door if you want?”
John shakes his head and Dave isn't surprised.
He walks back towards the bed, waddling slightly and John grins.
“Well, I guess you can't exactly go anywhere fast,” he jokes.
Well, it's sort of a joke. Dave knows he's in some kind of a basement and from
the sound of John's steps every time he comes or goes... there have to be at
least fifteen steps. He isn't sure he could make it up them with any kind of
speed.
The bed creaks as he sits down on it.
“How about I do you a deal?” John asks.
Dave looks up, curious.
“I'll bring you some snacks, you can tell me what you'd prefer,” John says. “If
you have your hands free, you have to eat them all throughout the day.”
Dave nods. It isn't even something he has to think about. The idea of having
something else to occupy himself with and not be bound up is too good to pass
up.
The next day, there is a large shoebox beside his bed when he wakes up. The
remote to the television is beside it. Dave pulls the box on to the bed. There
are three large bags of Doritos, some m&ms, two packs of Oreos and some
assorted candy bars. His stomach growls and he knows eating before breakfast
probably isn't the best idea, but he tears into a bag of Doritos anyway. It's
empty before he decides what to watch on television.
By the time John appears with a bowl of porridge and stack of pancakes, he's
eaten a pack of Oreos, too.
Breakfast is hard to finish and the milkshake makes his stomach groan but he
forces it down. Lunch is a meatball sub and another milkshake and he's so full
he can barely think, but the box of snacks is still brimming with food.
He doesn't want to think about how John will react if he doesn't finish it,
like he'd promised. He makes himself finish another bag of Doritos and six
candy bars before he has to stop. He feels sick and his stomach is hard on top
of him.
Dave turns onto his side, hoping that will help, but it just makes him feel
heavy and weird. He presses his hands into his stomach, kneading and rubbing
like he's seen John do so many times. A burp eases the pressure a little, but
not enough.
He rolls onto his back again, groaning and running his hands over his abdomen
slowly. It feels huge and foreign, like that can't really be him. He pulls his
shirt up, slipping his hands under the bottom of his belly so he can press his
fingers deeper. He massages his flesh, trying to ease the pressure but nothing
works.
The front door slams and he knows it can't be long until dinner. He manages to
force down another three handfuls of Doritos but then his stomach lurches
painfully. It doesn't take long for his cock to twitch with interest.
He ignores it for a minute but then runs his hand down his body. He snakes it
under his stomach to reach it; even when he lies down, his flesh spills over
his hips and the top of his pelvis. He gives himself a quick squeeze, thrusting
into his fist. It feels good to be able to touch himself, to have the freedom
to twist on the bed and push his hips off of the mattress.
Dave uses his spare hand to keep kneading at his stomach, easing the tight
feeling as he strokes himself faster. He smells the familiar scent of baking;
sweet, warm aromas filling the air as he curls his toes. When he comes, he can
hear John rattling around with pots and pans.
Dave cleans himself up the best he can. He just wants to sleep, but he really
doesn't want to be cuffed to the bed again. He knows that the metal will soon
be painfully tight on his wrists, so he finishes the last of the Doritos and
candy bars.
The box only contains one pack of Oreos and the m&ms when John walks in with a
large plate of cookies.
Dave knows he should be thankful. The cookies are large, but it's a lot less
than John would usually feed him for dinner. Still, he doesn't know if he can
eat any more.
“You haven't finished your snacks,” John says.
He sits down on the bed and gathers up all of the food packaging that is strewn
across the sheets.
“I... tried,” Dave breathes. “I'll finish them, after dessert.”
John nods. He looks serious and Dave knows he's going to have to push himself.
Even John's fantastic baking skills don't make the cookies any easier to eat.
He doesn't complain, but each bite takes effort to swallow.
John lets him go slow, but all that does is give Dave time to realise just how
full he is. When the plate is empty, he feels solid. John leaves him splayed
out on his back. Dave knows he should sit up and keep eating, because John will
be back to check on him but his stomach presses him down into the mattress.
He's determined, though. He can do it. He knows he can.
Dave stays still for nearly half an hour, rubbing at his distended stomach,
trying to aid its digestion before digging into the leftover snacks. He groans
as he shovels candy into his mouth, feeling his stomach stretch with every
swallow.
When John returns, Dave proudly nudges the empty box towards him.
***** Brownies and Ice Cream *****
Chapter Notes
     wow it's been a while but updates for this have been requested over
     and over so I gave in... I hope it's good enough
Dave gets used to snacking. He learns to time it right with his meals. It helps
that John doesn't make him finish everything, knowing full well that whatever
snacks he leaves Dave with will be long gone by morning.
 
Dave tends to wake up a little before his usual breakfast time. With the extra
food he fits in between his meals, Dave finds himself getting full as often as
he'd used to. The feeling is something of a double edged sword; it makes it
difficult to finish his meals and puts him in danger of disappointing John,
but, on the other hand, Dave enjoys it.
 
He loves being able to fill his days (and his stomach) with the junk food John
supplies him and pushing himself to the limit allows him somewhat of a
challenge. It always take at least a slight amount of pain in his abdomen to
get his dick interested now, anyway.
 
He was already half way through a box of doughnuts when he heard John rattling
around in the kitchen. He switched through television channels, looking for
something interesting as he finished the rest of the doughnuts off.
 
When John opened his door and Dave saw what he had prepared for him, he began
to regret eating a dozen doughnuts and a bag of chips before breakfast. There
was a stack of six huge, fluffy pancakes, topped with bacon and smothered in
maple syrup. Dave's mouth was watering before John even sat on the bed but he
knew that with what he'd already eaten, it was going to be a struggle.
 
Still, the pancakes were perfect, as always and he let John feed them to him
without any comment. Even with his hands free, Dave preferred to let John feed
him when he could. He thought it was probably partly habit but he liked it; it
left his hands free to rub his belly when the discomfort got to be too much.
 
Dave struggled after the fourth pancake but he powered through. He wasn't going
to give up at breakfast, he was better than that and John's look of pride as he
kept eating even as his breathing because shallow was worth all the pain in the
world.
 
“You're getting so good at this,” John said when he finally put the plate down.
 
Dave felt his face flush as John ran his hands over his full stomach. He still
had room, he knew that, but he thought he should give himself a little time to
digest before digging into his box of snacks again.
 
He lasted five minutes once John was gone. Despite protests from his stomach,
Dave couldn't resist the calling of the brownies John had baked for him to
snack on. He'd made them yesterday but they were still overwhelmingly moist and
chocolatey. He ate three, moaning in delight until he really had to stop. His
abdomen ached and he slipped a hand under his shirt to rub at his distended
flesh. It send ripples of pleasure through his body but he ignored it.
 
His eyelids felt heavy, the fullness of his body pulling him into sleep. He
gave in, napping until noises above him roused him awake. He could smell food
again, as he often did. His nap had allowed his stomach to settle and Dave was
pretty sure he could handle anything John had prepared for him.
 
What he saw when John opened his door surprised him, however.
 
“I thought we could test you today,” he said. “I miss seeing you struggle like
you used to.”
 
John had a mixing bowl in his hands. Dave's mouth watered when he caught the
unmistakable scent of mac n cheese. Still, the sheer amount of it concerned
him. The bowl was full to the brim, the wooden spoon he was sure John used for
baking sticking out of the middle.
 
“I don't even know if I expect you to finish this,” John said. “I sure would
like you to give it a try, though.”
 
Dave was apprehensive as John started to spoon the pasta into his mouth. The
spoon was huge, filling his mouth each time John presented it to him. The mac n
cheese was good, sure, but it was thick and gloopy, each mouthful settling
heavily inside of him. It didn't take long before he was full enough for his
stomach to begin to ache.
 
Spoonful after spoonful, John continued to feed him with no signs of slowing
down. Dave reminded himself to breathe as he ate, ignoring his body's protests.
He could do this.
 
He managed to get half-way through the bowl before he was really in pain. Dave
groaned and pressed his palm into his firm stomach. He burped loudly, repeating
his actions in an attempt to relieve the pressure. His belly felt huge and
round, stretching in front of him like a boulder.
 
John raised the spoon to his mouth again and, despite himself, he shook his
head.
 
“Give me a minute,” he said quietly.
 
He could barely breathe and he knew that waiting a minute wouldn't help. The
quicker he ate, the more he'd manage to get through, he knew that. Waiting
would just make it worse but he didn't think he could physically fit any more
food inside of him.
 
He shifted position, which was harder than it should have been. As he spread
his legs a little, his belly sank into the space he'd cleared.
 
“You did eat more than I expected...” John said, running a soothing hand over
his stomach.
 
Dave was surprised. He'd expected John to be angry with him.
 
“You're not mad?” he asked.
 
“Why would I be?” John asked. “I've never seen you this full before. It's not
like you're fighting me, I know your body has its limits.”
 
Relief washed over him as John put the bowl down. His whole body ached and felt
heavier than it had in a long time. Dave realised that it probably was heavier
than it had ever been by quite a lot.
 
“You only had about a third left,” John said, showing him the bowl.
 
Dave frowned as John ran his warm hands over his belly, soothing the ache that
was slowly becoming more persistent. A third... it didn't sound like much
really but looking at the amount of creamy pasta that was left in the bowl made
his stomach hurt more.
 
He was quite amazed; if that was only a third... then he'd eaten double that.
There was no way he'd even have been able to get through the remainder in the
bowl when John had first started feeding him.
 
John left and Dave didn't snack at all before he returned. He'd never been so
full. He spent the next few hours rubbing at his belly and watching television.
He squeezed at his flesh experimentally, moaning as pain sparked across his
skin. For the first time in a long time, Dave felt nervous as he started to
hear the sounds of cooking from above him.
 
By the time he heard John's footsteps on the stairs, Dave's stomach had settled
a little but not as much as he'd have liked. Thankfully, the tray he was
carrying didn't look like too much of a challenge.
 
John had bought him five different pints of ice cream. Dave knew he could get
through a few with no troubles. He smiled when John sat down on the bed and
ripped the lid off of the first one.
 
“You think you'll be able to finish?” he asked.
 
“With enough time, yeah,” Dave said.
 
He opened his mouth for the first spoonful and let himself relax. It went down
easy, rich chocolatey flavours exploding on his tongue as he accepted the
second and third spoonfuls without complaint. No time seemed to pass at all
before the carton was empty and John had opened the next.
 
Dave reached to the side of the bed to retrieve the half eaten plate of
brownies. John smiled at him encouragingly as he used one to scoop a bit of ice
cream out of the carton.
 
“I need to break up the dairy, right?” he asked.
 
John nodded, continuing to feed him. By the time the third carton was open,
Dave's stomach was starting to protest but he ignored it. The ice cream had
started to melt, dripping from the spoon as John pressed it to his lips. He was
sure John could tell he was starting to struggle again; his breathing was
becoming shallow and he kept shifting his position.
 
Dave sat up more, hoping it would take the pressure off a little. He couldn't
stop focusing on how his heavy belly settled on his thighs. He leaned forwards
momentarily, compressing it and dislodging a burp.
 
John didn't stop feeding him until the third carton was empty.
 
“You seem like you're struggling,” he said.
 
Dave nodded. There was no use in hiding it. His stomach felt firm and round
beneath his fingers and the thick ice cream was starting to make him feel a
little stick.
 
“Well I can't put this back in the freezer now, it's half defrosted,” John said
thoughtfully. “How about I do you a deal?”
 
Dave looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.
 
“Like what?” he asked.
 
“I'll leave these two with you and I'll come back before midnight,” John said.
“I want them both empty... and you'd better not have any brownies left,
either.”
 
Dave looked at the two cartons of ice cream and the plate of brownies. There
were about twelve left and, realistically, he thought he'd be able to manage
it. Mass wise, the food wasn't too bad. He knew there was probably enough
calories in front of him to last someone a couple days at least, though.
 
“Deal,” he said.
 
John gave him a smirk and patted his belly, making Dave wince.
 
“I'll see you soon, then.”
 
Dave gave himself a little break. He watched a few cartoons for half an hour
before picking up one of the cartons of ice cream. He stuck the spoon in and
stirred it around for a moment until it was half melted and thick. He crumbled
up most of the remaining brownies and added them to the ice cream and then
slowly began to make his way through the carton.
 
He still felt sick but the brownies helped a little. He had to concede before
he got to the end of the carton, though. It was just too much.
 
Dave made himself comfortable for an hour before tackling it again. The
brownies had absorbed most of the melted ice cream so he forced them down along
with the rest of the plate. He felt his stomach stretch with each mouthful but
he was used to the feeling. His skin was taut by the time he'd finished. He
groaned when he realised he still had another carton (and around 1000 calories)
to go.
 
He shifted on the bed until he was as comfortable as he was going to get. His
stomach felt solid and he knew that even though he was no longer chained to the
bed, he wouldn't be able to move if he wanted to.
 
He opened the last carton. It was pretty much just liquid with a few chunks of
chocolate. Dave knew it was going to be difficult but after not being able to
finish the mac n cheese, he was determined. He focused on the television as he
sipped it slowly. It took him nearly an hour to get half way through but he had
to stop.
 
It wasn't until he saw the time a while later and realised that he only had
half an hour to go until midnight that he started up again. He was still
struggling to chug the carton when he heard John coming down the stairs. He
drained the last of it as the door opened and had to force himself not to be
sick.
 
“Wow, I'm impressed,” John said when he saw the empty carton.
 
Dave wiped the sticky, melted ice cream off of his chin and laid back,
stretching out as much as he could. He couldn't move; his body felt too heavy.
John gasped when he ran a hand over his full belly, poking at it gently.
 
“I can't believe how full you are,” he said. “You look amazing.”
 
Dave felt himself blush as he felt John's hands on him. He shuddered as his
fingers pinched at his belly. John didn't give him any more than that, though.
Instead, he just gathered up the empty cartons, helped Dave get comfortable and
left him for the night.
 
Part of Dave wanted to wriggle out of his clothes and touch himself but he
couldn't. He was too tired, the fullness in his abdomen making him drowsy. He
was asleep within minutes.
 
***** Funnel *****
Dave hears something new when he wakes up the next morning. It's the
unmistakable sound of a blender. Dave knows John must have made use of one
before but this sounds much larger. When John comes down the stairs with his
breakfast, Dave understands why.
 
John has a cardboard box with a plate of toast balanced on top in one hand and
a large jug in the other. It looks like it contains some kind of milkshake and
Dave's stomach growls audibly as he sits down on the bed.
 
“Hungry?” John asks with a smirk.
 
Dave nods, his face flushing as he accepts the plate of food. He eats the toast
happily, paying little attention to the box. By the time he's finished the ten
slices, his hunger is sated and he finally notices what John has been setting
up.
 
He has a funnel and a long plastic tube. Dave can only imagine what is going to
happen next.
 
“I want to test your capacity today,” John says. “I hope you're still hungry.”
 
Dave nods. He is, just.
 
John attaches the tube to the funnel and then puts the other tube into Dave's
mouth before standing up. Before Dave has any time to react, he starts to pour
the thick liquid into the funnel. It slowly oozes down the tube until Dave can
taste the creamy, chocolatey milkshake.
 
He gulps it down, timing his breaths carefully. Dave knows he shouldn't
protest; he's sure John could make this much more unpleasant but by the time
the jug is half empty, he's full to bursting point.
 
John slows down the pouring when he sees Dave fidgeting on the bed, placing a
hand on his belly. After testing its firmness, he rubs it slowly. It helps a
little but Dave can't fight a moan escaping him as more and more liquid flows
into him.
 
He tries hard to shut his brain off. He just needs to swallow, he can handle
it, for John. He feels his cock starting to harden as he keeps swallowing, his
throat feeling numb from the cold milkshake. John's hand slips lower, lightly
stroking over his cock through his clothes and Dave's body tenses painfully.
 
“You can do it,” John tells him. “You're almost done.”
 
Dave is sure he's about to explode but he trusts him. He keeps swallowing until
there's only air coming out of the tube. He opens his eyes to see John standing
over him, smiling proudly.
 
“Good boy,” he says. “You did so well.”
 
A feeling in Dave's chest swells as John slips his hand under Dave's clothing,
closing his fingers around his cock. He strokes him roughly,making Dave cry out
in pleasure. He comes embarrassingly fast, legs shaking as John cleans him up.
 
“I'll be back for lunch,” he says before he leaves Dave alone with him
painfully bloated belly.
 
He can't move. His stomach is so full it doesn't give at all when he prods it
with his fingers. He groans, trying to rub it better. It's fruitless, his skin
is fighting to contain everything John had pumped into him.
 
Dave watches television, trying to ignore the pain sparking through him. He
dozes off a little, which probably has something to do with why John seems to
appear back in his room after no time at all.
 
He has the jug, full to the brim and the funnel again. Dave is almost relieved
to see no food this time, but he's sure the milkshake is still going to kill
him.
 
“I really don't think I'm going to be able to take that,” Dave says. “I'll try
but -”
 
“Oh, you'll take it,” John says. “One way or another.”
 
His tone is dark, more reminiscent of Dave's first few weeks with him and it
makes him shudder. He accepts the tube when John slips it into his mouth but
he's scared.
 
The milkshake hits his still-full stomach and it seems thicker than before. He
gets a third of the way through the jug before the pain in his abdomen becomes
unbearable and he shakes his head desperately. John ignores him so Dave moves
to remove the tube from his mouth.
 
Surprisingly, John stops pouring. He puts the jug down.
 
“Just finish what's in the tube,” he says.
 
Relieved, Dave does so, however painful it might be. John reaches into his back
pocket and Dave's heart drops when he pulls out a very familiar pair of
handcuffs. Dave tries to sit up and stop him but he's too heavy, weighed down
with too much milkshake.
 
“I didn't want to have to do this,” John says, although his tone suggests other
wise.
 
The metal is cold around his wrists, pressing into his flesh painfully.
 
“Would you look at that,” John says. “You've gotten so fat even the handcuffs
are tight.”
 
Dave averts his eyes, too ashamed to make eye contact. John forces the tub back
roughly into his mouth. Dave nearly gags when he feels the tube brush the back
of his throat as John pushes it further into his mouth.
 
The flow of milkshake starts again and Dave has little choice but to swallow.
He groans around the tube, unable to even rub his bloated stomach as it
distends further. Tears leak down his face, half in fear, half in pain.
He feels like his skin is about to rip, pain flaring all over his torso until
finally, finally it stops. John pulls the tube out of his mouth and Dave coughs
at the sensation. He feels groggy and nauseous.
 
John packs up the equipment and Dave waits for him to uncuff him but he walks
to the door without so much as looking at him.
 
“Wait, are you just going to leave me here like this?” Dave asks.
 
“You'll be free again when I think you deserve it.”
 
Dave cries when he's alone. It's not something he does often but he feels more
alone than he ever has in his life. He's confused. John had been so nice to him
and now this... he doesn't understand. He makes a point to prove himself to him
as soon as he gets the chance.
 
John returns a few hours later with another jug and the same cold demeanour. He
doesn't speak to Dave as he puts the tube back in his mouth. Dave's stomach has
settled a little, he's glad of that at least.
 
Still, in only takes half the jug to have him writhing in pain again. John
doesn't show him any mercy. By the time he leaves him again, Dave is a mess. He
can't think straight through the pain. If it wasn't for the way food always
made him sleep, the discomfort caused by the handcuffs would have surely have
kept him awake.
 
***** Pizza *****
Chapter Notes
     As a (late) celebration of 4/13 I thought I'd upload some more of
     this. Thanks, always to everyone who reads my work and encourages my
     lazy ass to keep writing, especially Corshi who has given me some
     fantastic ideas and is always great to bounce plot points off of.
The next day Dave wakes up early, an old, familiar ache in his arms. The cuffs
are still on and Dave had almost forgotten how much pain they had caused him
before. He shuffled a little, surprised at how hungry he is.
 
He can hear John moving around upstairs. It isn't long before he hears
footsteps on the stairs. He panics a little. John had been in a surprisingly
bad mood the previous day. Dave doesn't know what he did. All he knows is that
he'd do anything to have his usual John back. His normal, caring John.
 
When John opens the door, Dave thinks he might not be in luck. John looks
strangely rigid and he isn't making eye contact. Weirdly enough, he doesn't
have any food with him, either. All he does is sit down on Dave's bed.
 
John wrings his hands and a minute or two pass in silence. Dave wants to say
something but he's too scared that he'll make John angry again so he keeps his
mouth shut. When John does speak, it surprises him.
 
“I'm sorry, Dave,” he says.
 
Dave looks at him quizzically. He doesn't understand.
 
“Why? What's wrong?” he asks.
 
John finally looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed.
 
“What do you mean why? I was too hard on you yesterday,” John says. “I'm sorry.
I don't want you to hate me.”
 
“I could never hate you,” Dave says quietly.
 
John beams at him. He ruffles a hand through Dave's hair, which makes him flush
with happiness.
 
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” John asks.
 
“Breakfast?” Dave asks, his suggestion accompanied by a telling growl from his
stomach.
 
John smiles at him and kisses him on the forehead.
 
“Of course,” he says. “I could make you some pancakes if you want.”
 
Dave nods excitedly and his mouth waters in anticipation. John reaches out and
gently uncuffs him, kissing the marks left but the harsh metal.
 
Two days later, Dave is awoken by a worried looking John entering his room.
It's strange, if just for the fact that John is rarely downstairs before Dave
wakes up.
 
“Are you okay?” Dave asks.
 
John nods and sits down.
 
“Come here,” John says, holding his arm out slightly.
 
Dave pulls himself up, groaning slightly at the effort it takes him to move
toward John. He cuddles up to him and waits for whatever bad news is coming.
 
“I have something to ask you and I'm worried you wont want to do it,” John
says.
 
“Huh?” Dave asks.
 
As nice as he can be sometimes, John doesn't usually ask for his opinion on
things.
 
“Well...” John says. “I was thinking we could take a trip. Permanently.”
 
Dave looked up at him, noticing that John's teeth were digging into his lower
lip. He was really worried about this.
 
“Where?” he asks.
 
“I don't know, anywhere.” John said. “I was thinking about moving before you
came here, anyway and I'm kind of sick of this house.”
 
“Oh...” Dave says.
 
He feels bad. It's his fault John is still stuck here, after all. He could go
with him, it's not like it would be any different for him, anyway.
 
“Well?” John asks. “What do you think?”
 
“Sure, yeah,” Dave says. “Why not?”
 
John grins wildly.
 
“That's great Dave,” he says. “I can't wait to be able to take you out places.
Maybe we could go to the fair soon.”
 
“Wait, what?” Dave asks. “You want to take me outside?”
 
“Of course,” John tells him, stroking a hand up his back. “Why wouldn't I? I
just don't want anyone to take you away from me.”
 
Dave thinks about that. He doesn't want to be taken away from John either, but
he does like the idea of going outside occasionally.
 
“So when are we leaving?” he asks.
 
“Tomorrow night if we can.” John says. “I just need to get some things sorted.
I'm going to have to go out for most of the day okay?”
 
“Okay,” Dave says.
 
John moves to stand up so Dave rolls slightly to get off of him. He turns on
the television and flicks through channels, hoping that John will bring him
breakfast soon. He's happy to see a tray stacked high with toast, bacon, eggs
and sausages when John returns.
 
“I'm going to leave this with you, okay?” he asks. “I'll be back around noon
with your lunch and then I'll be going out again, are you going to be okay on
your own?”
 
Dave nods and reaches out for the tray. He's starving.
 
“Where are you going?” he asks.
 
“I've got to hire a moving truck for tomorrow and start packing,” John says.
“I'm going to need to make some phone calls to secure us somewhere to live,
too.”
 
“Okay,” Dave says. “Can I get pizza for lunch, or maybe dinner?”
 
“I was thinking both,” John tells him. “If I bring you pizza back at noon, you
could eat it for both meals and that saves me some time. Is that okay?”
 
“I can never have too much pizza,” Dave replies.
 
John smiles at him and kisses him on the forehead before leaving the room. Dave
waits for the familiar sound of the door locking behind him before digging into
his food. There's a lot on the tray but he eats quickly, not really letting his
body catch up with him before he's finished. He puts the tray on the floor,
stretching out on the bed so he has room to digest.
 
Dave gets bored a few hours later and he knows he still has a while before John
is due home. He looks around the room for something to do, not expecting to
find something. He does see something that piques his curiosity, however.
 
In the corner of the room is the tape measure that John had left behind a while
back. Dave hasn't been measured in some time, enough time that he guesses
there'll be quite a change. Part of him wants to wait for John to return, but
he's bored and curious so he sits up slowly.
 
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, putting his considerable weight on
his feet gingerly. He walks slowly over to the tape measure and bends slowly to
pick it up. First he figures out the widest part of his stomach and then he
wraps the tape around himself.
 
At first he thinks he's done something wrong. The numbers don't lie, though.
His waist is just under 60 inches and he knows John is going to be so proud of
him.
 
He makes his way back to his bed, stretching his back out slightly before
climbing back onto it. He spends a few hours watching television and wondering
what it's going to be like having some form of freedom again. He wonders where
John will take them both. He knows it's going to be amazing being able to go
out and do normal things with John.
 
Dave's stomach starts growling a good hour before John returns and he's
practically salivating by the time his door swings open. Dave is greeted by a
John struggling with boxes that are stacked high enough to fit neatly under his
chin.
 
The scent of pizza hits him hard and his stomach growls again, very audibly.
John places the boxes down carefully on the bed next to him and Dave looks them
over. He knows there's three large pizzas there but the other five boxes
contain mystery sides and he's excited to see what John has for him. John
places two large bottles of apple juice down next to the boxes.
 
“I'm sorry I can't stay,” John says in a hurry. “I still have some things to
pick up. You'll be fine here, right?”
 
“Of course, I have pizza,” Dave replies.
 
“I just hope I got you enough,” John says with a wink, before hurrying out of
the door again.
 
Dave notices that the lock doesn't click shut and part of him itches to get up
and leave, just because he knows he'll be able to but he doesn't want to leave
John, doesn't know where he'd got and... he has freaking pizza.
 
He tears open the first large pizza box, barely noting the double pepperoni
topping before pulling the first slice out and devouring it. He groans at the
taste and hot cheese dripping onto his tongue. He gets half way through the
pizza before coming back to himself and remembering that he has sides, too.
 
Dave grabs the closest box and opens it to find a large order of chicken
strips. He tears open the pot of sauce and gets through five of them before
going back for a slice of pizza, not slowing down at all. Next he opens another
box, delighted to find garlic pizza bread with extra cheese. The whole things
goes down easy but then Dave finds that he's suddenly so thirsty.
 
He's so thankful for the apple juice because he doesn't want to stop eating
yet, he knows he can fit more in but he needs to drink first. He grabs the
first bottle of juice and opens it, chugging down a few mouthfuls before going
back to the pizza.
 
Dave has to stop for a moment when he reaches the final quarter of the pizza.
Everything he just shoved into his body catches up with him at once and he rubs
a hand over his bloated belly. It feels firm but there's a softness there that
no amount of food will get rid of. He grins at that and slowly reaches for the
remaining three boxes of sides.
 
He opens them all just to see what they contain because he knows he can always
eat pizza cold but some sides are not the same. There's a large order of garlic
and cheese doughballs, a large order of cheesy garlic bread and and order of
potato wedges. He goes for the wedges first, knowing he doesn't have a lot of
room left and that they will be the worst cold. He closes all of the other
boxes and sets them aside.
 
Dave lays back on the bed, letting his stomach expand into the newly made space
and starts eating the wedges slowly. He uses the dip from the chicken, knowing
it will make them go down easier. After a handful, his stomach starts to
protest, muffled growling coming from beneath his flesh. His ignores it,
focusing on the television and trying to relax as much as possible.
 
He feels overly full, but it's a feeling he's more than used to. As he swallows
more and more of the wedges, he feels his dick start to harden. He considers
stopping to take care of it but no, he's going to finish the wedges first. He
can do that at least.
 
By the time he finishes the dense potato chunks, his stomach is aching and his
throat is dry. A gulp of the apple juice makes him feel like he's inflating.
 
Dave stacks the remaining boxes up next to his bed, moving the left over sides
into one box and leaves the mostly eaten pizza box on top. He'll come back to
that soon.
 
He tries to get comfortable, or as comfortable as his bloated state will allow
and slowly wraps his fingers around his dick. His hand brushes against the
underside of his belly when he starts to stroke himself, jolting it slightly
but that just gets him going more.
 
Dave thinks about John and how full he is and what they're going to be able to
do together when he gets out of his room. Pain throbs through his abdomen as
his hand continues to jostle it but he keeps going. He can feel himself getting
close but it's not quite enough.
 
Dave reaches over and grabs two slices of pizza from the box, folds them on top
of each other and slowly but systematically begins to eat them. Each mouthful
feels huge, like it's taking up all of the available space left inside him.
He's not sure if he's going to be able to finish but he just focuses on the
feelings of pleasure and the agony building up inside him. Before he knows it
he has the last of the pizza in his mouth, he feels like he's about to explode
and he's coming all over himself.
 
Dave falls asleep. When he wakes up an hour later, he struggles to clean
himself up but manages it with what he has. For a while, he watches television
and picks at the sides next to him, finishing off the chicken and making a
start on the doughballs.
 
He wonders what time John is going to be coming back. He's sure it isn't even
nearly dinner time yet and he is determined to finish all of the food next to
him. John probably didn't expect him to but he has a plan to make sure John is
in a good mood for a while.
 
A few hours pass before Dave feels like tackling the rest of the pizza. He
finishes the last slice of pepperoni, takes a swing from the bottle of juice
and cracks open the next box. It's some kind of barbeque chicken topping, with
onions and peppers and even through it's cooled it still smells amazing.
 
Dave still feels a little full but nothing like what he had before. He eats the
pizza slowly, focusing on a film that starts halfway through his first slice.
By the time the main character is having his faith tested by a band of vicious
banshees, the box is empty and Dave feels himself on the pleasant edge of too
full again. He pushes himself, eating the remainder of the sides before
dropping the empty boxes on the floor.
 
He knows he only has one pizza left but he's worried he wont manage it. He's
stuffed himself to his limit twice in the space of five or so hours and his
stomach looks rounder than ever. Even with the rolls of fat John has helped to
pack onto him, with all of that food inside of him he looks like he could be
rolled out of the room.
 
He stops thinking about food for a while, maybe an hour or so, hoping the
fullness will go away.
 
It doesn't, not really. He's not in pain, sure, but Dave still feels heavy when
he tries to sit up. He's sure it's after dinner time now and John should be
back soon so he picks the last pizza box up anyway and hopes the topping is
something easy.
 
It isn't.
 
Dave opens the box to find a stuffed crust meat feast with extra everything. He
can't complain, it looks amazing but he knows it's going to be a struggle, if
he can even finish it at all.
 
For the first time in his life, Dave struggles with the first slice of a pizza.
The second is even harder and he's finding it hard to breathe so he takes a few
minutes to collect himself before trying again.
 
For the next hour, Dave pushes himself harder and harder, continuing to eat
bite after bite of pizza, pushing through all of the discomfort and pain.
Eventually, he reaches the last slice but he feels sick. He takes a sip of the
apple juice but it feels like half the bottle as it trickles down his throat to
join the mass of food inside of him.
 
He groans loudly, forcing out a burp to try to free up some space. He takes a
bite, chews, swallows and repeats. Ten minutes later, he collapses back on the
bed, triumphant and utterly unable to move.
 
John returns less than half an hour later and the sound of Dave's door opening
awakens him from his nap.
 
“Did you finish everything?” John asks, sounding amazed.
 
“Yeah...” Dave says weakly.
 
“Wow...”
 
“I want to do something but I'm honestly not sure if I can move,” Dave says.
 
“What is it?” John asks.
 
“'Want you to measure me,” Dave says sleepily.
 
John smiles at him and slowly helps Dave to sit up. He feels so much bigger
than he expected to, his stomach a huge, rigid sphere in front of him. He gets
to his feet and his knees nearly buckle, sleep still pulling at him as John
helps him walk forward.
 
He closes his eyes and feels John's strong hands on him, firm and but still
gentle on his stomach. Next he feels the tape wrap around him and hears a sharp
intake of breath from John.
 
“Wow... well I'm guessing about 61 inches,” John says.
 
“Guessing?” Dave asks. “Just look, the numbers tell you the thing.”
 
“Well they would, if the numbers went above 60 inches,” John says, soundly
almost proud. “Looks like we're going to need a new tape measure.”
 
***** Moving *****
Dave wakes up early the next day to the sounds of heavy objects being moved
above him. John opens his door soon after carrying a pile of clothing and a
McDonald's bag.
 
“Eat, get dressed and then meet me upstairs, okay?” he asks.
 
Dave nods, heart racing at the idea of leaving his room for the first time.
John leaves him to it and he immediately rips open the bag. It contains three
sausage and egg McMuffins and five hash browns. He makes short work of them
before finally looking at the clothes John left for him.
 
There's a pair of jeans that are much bigger than he thought they made, a soft,
cotton red tshirt, a pair of underwear, socks and a pair of converse that look
like they'll fit him. If it wasn't for the sizing up, Dave would have thought
John had raided his old wardrobe.
 
He pulls the clothes on awkwardly, having not really dressed himself for way
too long. The jeans fit just fine if he buttons them under his belly. The shirt
is a little snug, pulling tightly across him but it covers everything. He can
feel the indent over his bellybutton when he runs a hand over himself. He's
sure John will like that.
 
Dave has to sit down on the bed to struggle with his socks but he manages to
get them on, along with his new shoes,with minimal huffing and puffing.
 
He takes a moment to look around the room. His bed, his television, the sparse,
windowless walls... he never thought he'd miss this room but the uncertainty
ahead fills him with dread. He's excited, sure. John says he's going to take
him out, there were promises of a trip to the fair and everything but he
doesn't know what to expect. He doesn't even though where they're going.
 
It takes him another couple of minutes but Dave eventually gets up. He takes
one last look at the room before walking towards the door. He extends a shaking
hand towards the doorknob, braces himself and then turns it. The door swings
open and Dave looks up the steep stairs.
 
When he starts to climb them, he's grateful for the hand rail. He walked more
than a few steps in so long and the stairs are a struggle. He's out of breath
when he's only half way up and by the time he reaches the top, his heart is
hammering in his chest and his legs burn.
 
“John?” he calls out.
 
The house is familiar but he'd only seen it once before so he feels more than a
little out of place.
 
“I'm in here,” John replies.
 
Dave follows the sound of his voice and finds John in an almost empty kitchen.
He supposes all of John's possessions are in the moving truck. John beams when
he turns around to see Dave standing awkwardly in the doorway.
 
“Wow, red looks so good on you,” he says. “Are you ready to go?”
 
Dave nods, looking out of the window to see a large vehicle parked outside.
 
“Are you?” he asks.
 
“Pretty much.”
 
John does a last sweep of the place, making sure he hasn't forgotten anything.
Dave stands in the kitchen awkwardly, waiting for him to return. He doesn't
really know what to do with himself. It feels weird just to be standing up
again. His legs feel like jelly but he knows they have a long drive ahead of
them so he doesn't worry about sitting down.
 
John returns within a few minutes and looks outside quickly. The neighborhood
seems quiet, it's still early.
 
“Come on, coast is clear,” John says, motioning towards the door.
 
Dave looks out at the street, memories flooding back to him of his old life,
before John.
 
“I need you to get in the truck and keep yourself low, at least until we get
out of town,” John tells him.
 
Dave walks out of the door, amazed at everything he used to take for granted.
The sky looks beautiful and the fresh air feels light around him. He can't stop
to enjoy it. He'll have time soon enough.
 
He walks around the side of the house and John opens the passenger door for
him. There's a step up to the carriage, the seats of the truck are high off of
the ground. Dave puts his foot on the step and grabs hold of the handle,
exerting all of his effort to pull himself up. He only makes it with John's
help; his firm hands press hard against his ass, pushing him upwards.
 
Dave rolls onto the seat, scooting down as far as he can and puts his seatbelt
on. He notices the “For Sale” sign on John's lawn just before he slides down
enough to obscure it.
 
John joins him in the carriage moments later, quickly putting the keys in the
ignition and starting the truck up. He maneuvres out of his drive and
immediately pulls away. Dave understands why. If they're spotted now, the game
is up and neither of them want that.
 
Dave stays quiet as they drive, struggling to keep himself comfortable and
still out of sight. After about twenty minutes, John finally says something.
 
“Okay, we're on the highway, you can sit up now.”
 
Dave sighs in relief as he pulls himself up and stretches his legs out in front
of him. It feels weird to be fully dressed; he can feel the denim of the jeans
wrinkling and pressing into his legs.
 
“Where are we actually going?” Dave asks.
 
“Georgia,” John says. “We have a long drive ahead of us but it'll be worth it,
I promise.”
 
“Okay,” Dave says.
 
“I probably should have asked this before,” John says. “But you don't know
anyone there, do you?”
 
Dave shakes his head. He doesn't mention that Georgia Tech was where his
brother was interested in going to school at one point. He doesn't want to
spoil John's good mood and it's unlikely, anyway.
There are lots of options for robotics students and that's even if Dirk still
wants to study that.
 
John slides a hand over to rest on Dave's belly as he continues to drive
straight. His fingers prod a little, like he's studying his body without taking
his eyes off of the road. Dave squirms a little under his touch, biting his lip
when John squeezes a roll of fat softly.
 
“Are you hungry?” John asks.
 
“A little,” Dave admits.
 
His breakfast wasn't as big as he's gotten used to. John reaches into the glove
compartment and retrieves a box of two dozen doughnuts.
 
“You can snack on these for a bit,” he says. “I'll stop and get us something
proper to eat when we make a bit more distance.”
 
Dave thinks about that sentence as he rips into the box of doughnuts. He's not
sure if he's ever actually seen John eat. It'll be weird to eat with him
instead of for him for once.
 
It takes Dave just over an hour to get through the doughnuts. He feels bloated
afterwards, the seatbelt exerting just a little too much pressure on his
stomach for his liking. He fidgets slightly, trying to get comfortable.
 
John turns on the radio and they spend the next few hours in a comfortable
silence; Dave is so enamoured by the sight of the sky and the breeze whistling
past him to talk much and John seems focused on driving. At first Dave tries to
pay attention to the various signs but soon enough they all blur together. He'd
never really been one for geography, anyway. He has no idea where he is.
 
Dave is surprised when John pulls off the highway just after three.
 
“We're not here already, are we?” he asks.
 
John shakes his head and grins at him like that was a ridiculous question. It
probably was. Dave knows they have a long way to go.
 
Soon, Dave understands because John pulls into a McDonald's drive thru.
 
“What do you want?” he asks.
 
“Uh...” Dave says, surprised to get the choice. “A couple burgers?”
 
John winds down his window as they pull up to the speaker.
 
“Hi, welcome to McDonald's,” comes the tinny voice. “What can we get for you
today?”
 
“I'll take three large Big Mac meals with Coke, one Chicken Legend with mayo, a
medium Diet Coke and six apple pies, please,” John says clearly, without
hesitating.
 
The voice on the other end rings up the order and tells John the total. John
pulls forward to the first window and pays. Dave's mouth waters at the scent of
fries and meat. By the time they get to the next window, their bag is already
ready and Dave's stomach is rumbling.
 
He's not even really hungry but it's more of a conditioned response. He smells
food and he eats it. John hands him the back, placing the drinks down between
them before starting to drive away.
 
“The Legend and Diet Coke are mine, the rest is for you,” John tells him.
 
Dave gets the Legend out of the bag before starting on his first portion of
fries. He stares absent mindedly out of the window as he eats, watching them
rejoin the highway. He gets a little caught up in watching John eat his burger
with one hand. It just looks so weird, a role reversal of sorts.
 
By the time they pass the next road sign, Dave's on his last portion of fries.
His mouth is drier than he can remember, thanks to all of the salt so he grabs
one of his three Cokes and drinks most of it down. He slows down once his fries
are gone, no longer eating with vigor. The burgers are still good, though. He
watches as they pass into Montana. It's the first time he's left Washington
since he left Texas as a child.
 
“How long is this journey going to take?” Dave asks curiously. “We're going
half way across the country, right?”
 
“We'll be on the road a while,” John tells him. “It should be about a forty
hour drive, we've got over a two and a half thousand mile journey but I'm
planning a few stops and we'll need to sleep... so a few days at least.”
 
Dave starts on his next burger. He doesn't mind being on the road with John and
he tells him so. Eventually, he manages to finish his burgers and his second
Coke. He decides to save the apple pies for later.
 
As night begins to fall, they leave Montana and John pulls off the highway.
There's a cheap motel just off the turning and they head towards it. John parks
up and turns off the engine.
 
“I'll be right back, I'm going to get us a room,” he says, jumping down out of
the cab.
 
Dave thinks about his wording. “Us”... “a room”... he's going to be sleeping in
the same room as John. That's going to be interesting, to say the least. He
returns in a few minutes and helps Dave down. They take the remaining food and
drinks with them before they lock up the truck and walk down the path to their
room.
 
John opens the door with the single key and they walk inside. It isn't much but
it's clean, warm and... it has one double bed in the middle of the room.
 
“Where am I sleeping?” Dave asks, hoping John didn't somehow forget about him.
 
“In... the bed?” John responds, obviously confused.
 
“Okay, then where are you sleeping?” Dave asks.
 
John chuckles a little and walks further into the room.
 
“In the bed.”
 
It's stated like a fact, like John hadn't even questioned the fact that they'd
be sleeping together. Dave flushes, half at the thought of sleeping next to
John, half at his complete confidence.
 
“Oh,”he says quietly.
 
Dave sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes. He feels a
little off, like he's expecting something bad to happen. So much that's
happening is either new to him or something he hasn't done since before he met
John. Even his clothes feel alien to him.
 
“Are you tired?” John asks.
 
Dave shakes his head. It's still early. John turns on the television, landing
on a channel playing a rerun of a 90s quiz show. He sits down on the bed,
patting the blanket beside him in an invitation. Dave joins him, face flushing
as the bed springs creak beneath him.
 
They watch the show together for a while and Dave snuggles up to John. John
wraps and arm around him and they fit together nicely. It's warm, relaxed. Dave
doesn't think he's ever been so comfortable.
 
When the show finishes, John gets up, despite Dave's protests. He returns soon
enough with the remainder of Dave's earlier meal: the cold apple pies.
 
“Are you excited about our new house?” John asks him.
 
Dave nods his head and smiles.
 
“Yeah... I'm really curious what it's going to look like,” he says. “Is it
nice?”
 
“Of course,” John tells him. “You're going to be happy there, I promise.”
 
John puts his arm around Dave again, pulling him closer before pulling the
first apple pie out of the bag. He feeds it to him slowly, focusing more on the
documentary on the television than anything. Dave lets his mind drift to the
possibilities in front of him as he eats.
 
By the time Dave starts on the sixth apple pie, sleep is pulling at his mind.
He yawns groggily, stretching as much as he can with John's arm around him.
 
“Want me to turn the tv off?” John asks.
 
Dave nods sleepily. John gets up and turns it off before helping Dave to
undress. He follows suit and Dave watches, in awe, as John's skin comes into
contact. He's never seen him naked before.
 
John looks even better than he'd expected.
 
When they get into bed together, Dave's heart is beating fast. His body is
tired but his mind is so alert that he's not sure he'll be able to sleep.
John's leg brushes his and then he moves closer, fitting his smaller body
around Dave's.
 
“Night,” John murmurs to him.
 
Dave can hear how tired he is and it strikes him that John has been driving all
day.
 
“Night,” Dave replies.
 
John's hand comes up to rest on Dave's belly, stroking it gently. The rhythm
does nothing to calm his dick down but it's soothing in a way. John falls
asleep next to him quickly and Dave listens to his breathing in the dark. After
five minutes or so, he manages to get himself under control. After that, sleep
comes easily.
 
They get back on the road early the next day. Dave showers before they leave
and gets dressed. As he buckles his seatbelt, his stomach rumbles loudly.
 
“We'll stop for breakfast soon, don't worry,” John says.
 
He grins at Dave, reaching over to pat his stomach. Sitting up in the truck
makes it look even bigger than usual. It ripples a little under John's touch.
 
Less than half an hour later, they're pulling into a breakfast diner's parking
lot. Dave notices it doesn't have a drive-thru and is surprised when John parks
the truck and turns off the engine.
 
“Are you going to order for me or do you want me to give you a list?” Dave
asks. “I'm starving.”
 
“It's up to you,” John says. “Why don't you look at the menu first and then
decide?”
 
“Wait, I'm going in?” Dave asks.
 
John nods and starts to climb down from his seat. Dave hesitates and then does
the same. He didn't expect John to actually take him into a restaurant straight
away. What if somebody recognised him?They weren't that far from home yet.
 
As soon as they step foot into the diner, Dave is hit with the heavy scent of
syrup, bacon and pancakes. It smells like heaven.
 
Their server, a cute girl around his age, shows them to their table.
 
“I'll be back to take your orders in a few minutes,” she tells them. “Can I get
you anything to drink? Coffee?”
 
“I'll have coffee,” John says.
 
“Uh... do you do milkshakes?” Dave asks.
 
“We sure do,” their server replies. “Any flavor in mind or do you want me to
get you a list?”
 
“Chocolate will be fine,” Dave says.
 
She smiles and walks off to get them their drinks and Dave picks up a menu. It
looks old, the lamination starting to come apart at the corners. He looks over
the choices, not really thinking about making a decision for a while.
 
“Well?” John asks. “Any ideas?”
 
“I kind of just want everything,” Dave says as the girl returns.
 
She places a cup down in front of John. It's minuscule compared to the glass
the she gives Dave.
 
“If you need a to-go cup for the road, let me know,” she says, gesturing at the
shake. “And if you want a bit of everything, I'd recommend the Mega Breakfast
Platter. It's big but worth it.”
 
“Sounds great,” Dave says. “I'll have that.”
 
She smiles and then looks at John. He orders a stack of pancakes with fruit.
 
“Okay, great,” the girl says. “It shouldn't be too long now, I'll see you
soon.”
 
Dave watches people slowly trickle into the diner. There's a family of four, a
lone trucker, two hungover college students and a few other random people
scattered about. He keeps expecting someone to say something or for someone's
eyes to widen as they look at him but it doesn't happen.
 
As he watches, he starts on his milkshake. It's thick and creamy and he's glad
he ordered something with substance because it feels like his stomach is
starting to digest itself.
 
Their food arrives within fifteen minutes, which is a surprise considering the
size of his plate.
 
“Okay, pancakes for you,” she says, placing a plate down in front of John. “And
the Mega Platter for you. If I can get you anything else, let me know. Enjoy!”
 
“She's awfully cheery for someone working at this hour,” Dave comments as she
leaves their table.
 
“She's probably drank her weight in coffee,” John tells him.
 
Dave looks down at his plate and excitedly picks up his fork. On one side
there's a stack of pancakes and waffles, drenched in syrup and butter. On the
other there are fried and scrambled eggs, two huge sausages, four rashers of
bacon, hash browns, three slices of toast and beans.
 
He's not sure where to start so he just digs in. He goes from left to right,
starting on the savoury side. Everything is cooked perfectly and he piles
scrambled egg on his toast, devouring everything on the left side of his plate.
 
He knows he could probably stop there but there's no way he will. He picks up
one of the spare sets of cutlery next to him and starts on the sweet side; he
switches between bites of buttery pancakes and gulps of chocolatey milkshake.
He doesn't even think about it but he can't help putting on a bit of a show for
John, moaning around his fork a little as he feels himself start to fill up.
 
Finally, he finishes the plate. His stomach is pleasantly full but he still has
three quarters of his milkshake left.
 
Their server comes to take their plates, smiling all the way to their table.
 
“Did you want that to-go cup?” she asks.
 
“No... I'll manage,” Dave says. “Could I get another milkshake to go though?”
 
“Sure, honey,” she says. “Same flavour?”
 
He nods as he starts slurping his shake again. John's eyes look as hungry as
he'd been when they'd entered the diner. Dave winks at him across the table. He
can feel his belly beginning to press into the side of it but he keeps drinking
anyway.
 
By the time the server comes back with his second milkshake, his first is
finished. She takes away the empty glass and then brings them the cheque.
 
“Thank you for stopping by,” she tells them as they leave. “I hope we'll see
you again soon.”
 
***** Driving *****
Dave finishes his second milkshake quickly but he starts to regret that when
John pulls off of the highway again within a few hours. Dave's stomach lurches
when he smells the fast food driveway through the open window.
 
He's used to this, sure. He's more than used to stuffing insane amounts of food
into his body, but sitting up in the truck, with his seatbelt pressing firmly
into his round body is something he's not too accustomed with.
 
John orders a few burgers and fries for him and Dave accepts the bag as they
pull away. He eats slowly, but he makes sure not to stop.
 
“Are you doing okay?” John asks him after a few minutes. “You're eating those
burgers pretty slow.”
 
“Yeah...” Dave sighs after swallowing a bite. “I'm good, just really full still
from breakfast.”
 
It takes him over an hour to finish and by the time he reaches the last burger,
his stomach feels full to bursting point. He rubs at it absent mindedly with
one hand, breathing shallow breaths as he stares at the open road in front of
them.
 
John stops to get gas a few hours later. When he returns from paying, he has
two dozen donuts in his arms.
 
“I'm not going to be stopping for another meal today,” he says as he hands them
to Dave. “I don't expect you to finish these, don't worry, I just thought you
might get hungry later.”
 
Dave thanks him and places the boxes down by his feet. It's harder than he
expects it to be; his stomach gets in the way and aches when bending places too
much pressure on it.
 
John keeps driving and Dave drifts into a half-asleep daze as road signs pass
him by. When he comes back to himself, the sun is starting to dip towards the
horizon. His stomach rumbles vaguely. He isn't exactly hungry; he still feels a
little full if anything but he hasn't eaten in quite a few hours and his body
has become accustomed to regular intakes of food.
 
Dave reaches down for the donuts and pulls ones of the boxes open. He eats the
first few quickly and then slows down, savouring the sugary taste of them.
 
“I like how the first thing you think of when you wake up is food,” John
teases.
 
“I wasn't asleep,” Dave says. “And what do you expect? You're the one who did
this.”
 
“You were snoring... and don't blame me.”
 
Dave keeps eating and is surprised when he reaches down to an empty box. He's
sure he hadn't eaten all twelve but the way his seatbelt is pushing into his
bloated belly tells him otherwise.
 
“Are we stopping any time soon?” Dave asks.
 
“I'm not planning on it, why?” John replies.
 
“My legs are a little cramped, that's all.”
 
“Well I'm hoping to make a little more distance tonight before we stop,” John
tells him. “Get some sleep, I'll wake you up when you can get out.”
 
Dave wants to protest that he can't sleep in a vehicle but if he's honest with
himself, his full stomach is making him sleepy. He closes his eyes to see if he
can and the next thing he knows, he's waking up in a motel parking lot.
 
–
 
Dave spends the most of the next day eating and sleeping. He wakes up
occasionally, noting that John seems to have made good distance each time. When
he wakes up from a particularly vivid dream about a comet, the sun is setting
and the sky is a deep magenta.
 
“Are we getting closer?” he asks.
 
He's sure they must be; John has taken them off of the highway and suburban
houses are all around them.
 
“Should be less than ten minutes now,” John replies.
 
Dave sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He's becoming alert, knowing
their journey is almost over. The houses around him fill him with hope. They
look nice. Really nice.
 
“Ah, here we are,” John says as he turns onto a quiet looking street.
 
The houses are all huge compared to what Dave is used to. White picket fences.
The whole nine yards. John pulls into the driveway of a house towards the end
of the street and he turns off the engine.
 
“Are you ready?” he asks, a huge grin splitting his face.
 
Dave nods. He unbuckles his seatbelt, keen to stretch his legs and see the new
house. John gets out with him and pulls a key out of his pocket. Dave follows
him to the front door and watches intently as he unlocks the door and pushes it
open.
 
The hallway is large and well lit, a wooden staircase leading upstairs. Dave
can see a living room beyond the hall and beyond that, a huge garden.
 
“Okay, you go upstairs and pick out a room,” John tells him. “I'll get the
essentials unpacked.”
 
Dave walks upstairs excitedly and enters the first room he sees. It's bare
besides the double bed and wardrobe but it's nice. He checks the next one,
which is pretty much the same but a little larger.
 
There are two more rooms: a large, fancy bathroom with a tub and separate
shower and and empty room that Dave can imagine being used as an office. He
decides on the first room next to the stairs. John has more stuff than him so
he figures he should have the bigger room.
 
After that, Dave checks downstairs. The living room is right next to the
kitchen. There's a couch in the living room so he sits down, looking out at the
garden and covered pool. It's miles better than anywhere he's ever lived.
 
John walks in a few minutes later with two boxes. He places them down in the
kitchen before joining Dave on the couch.
 
“Well?” he asks. “What do you think?”
 
“It's amazing,” Dave says.
 
“Have you chosen a room?” John asks.
 
“Yeah,” Dave says. “The one right next to the stairs.”
 
“Good,” John says. “We're going out to dinner, are you ready?”
 
Dave nods and follows John out of the house. They walk down the street and then
take a left. As they take a right a few moments later and continue down a long
street, Dave notes that it's the longest he's walked in a very long time. It's
no surprise then, that he's starting to break a sweat.
 
Just as he's starting to wonder how much further they have to go, the two of
them turn onto a street filled with restaurants and stores. John leads him into
an all you can eat chinese place and Dave's mouth starts to water as soon as he
sees the buffet.
 
He didn't even think he was that hungry but now that he can see the food, he
feels like he hasn't eaten all day.
 
They're seated at a small table near the buffet and John waves a hand towards
the food in invitation. It's all Dave needs to jump up and grab a plate. He's
spoilt for choice and isn't really sure what to get first. He wants to try
everything so first he just picks one thing from each of the starters.
 
He heads back to the table and John gets up to get himself something. Dave
makes his way through chicken, seaweed, prawns and spring rolls before John has
finished fixing his more modest plate. He returns to the buffet and picks up a
few more spring rolls before moving to the main dishes. He piles satay chicken,
sweet and sour pork and shredded spicy beef onto the plate, alongside fried
rice and returns to the table.
 
Dave makes his way through the plate, feeling himself start to fill up. He
ignores it, there's more food he needs to try and he's not going to leave until
he does. By the time the plate is done, his jeans feel tight and he struggles
to stand.
 
Nonetheless, he makes it to the buffet. He picks out more dishes, filling his
plate to the brim. When he makes it back to the table, John is staring at him.
 
“How many plates do you think you'll manage?” he asks as Dave sits down.
 
“Not sure,” Dave replies honestly. “I'm struggling already but I want to try
everything.”
 
“You're going to need at least one more plate for that, think you can do that?”
John asks,
 
“I can try,” Dave tells him as he starts eating again.
 
Dave slows down a little as he starts on his chow mein. The noodles are heavy
and all the food is starting to catch up with him. He pushes himself to finish
the plate but his stomach looks huge in front of him and he knows he's not
going to be able to stand up to get another plate.
 
“Are you alright?” John asks him.
 
“M'okay,” Dave says. “Just full.”
 
“Too full for another plate?” John asks.
 
“Too full to get up for one, yeah.”
 
Without another word John stands up and walks to the buffet. He returns a few
moments later with a full plate of everything Dave hasn't tried yet: chicken
with broccoli, buttered shrimp, dumplings and black bean beef.
 
His stomach aches just looking at it but Dave makes himself pick up the fork.
John returns to nibbing at his food and watching Dave's every move. The food is
good but he struggles to swallow every bite.
 
The waiter gives him a concerned look when he comes to refill their water jug,
his eyes lingering on Dave's over stuffed belly. His shirt is stretched tight
over it, a few mouthfuls of food away from riding up and displaying skin.
 
Dave's face flushes in embarrassment as he walks away. Still, he keeps eating
until his plate is clear. John smiles at him when he puts his fork down. He
feels glued to his seat, like he couldn't get up if he tried. He doesn't know
how he's going to walk back to the house.
 
John finishes the small amount of food left on his plate and makes to stand up.
 
“Are you ready?” he asks.
 
Dave nods and braces himself on the table, trying to gather as much leverage as
possible to push himself to his feet. He succeeds but he doesn't feel steady.
He follows John out of the restaurant as fast as he is able, feeling out of
breath before he reaches the door.
 
They step out into the cool air and Dave has to stop. He presses his hand
against his stomach, feeling just how full he is. He takes a few more steps,
practically waddling as his shirt starts to ride up just a little.
 
“I don't think I'll be able to make it back to the house,” he says quietly.
 
John turns to look at him. His eyes rake down his body, lingering on his
rounded stomach. He smirks a little and Dave expects him to start ridiculing
him but instead, he hails down a passing cab.
 
Dave practically rolls himself into the vehicle. John walks around the car and
slides in next to Dave. John gives the address to the driver who turns around
in confusion.
 
“You mean you hailed me down to go down the street?” the driver asks.
 
“I'm sorry but yes,” John tells him. “My friend here ate a little too much, he
can't make it back.”
 
The driver glances at him and Dave winces as his eyes go wide. He's sure that
he looks a mess. The driver shakes his head and turns back around before
starting the engine. Dave closes his eyes and tries to ignore the shame
twisting in his gut but before he can even get his head straight, the car is
stopping again.
 
“Here we are then,” the driver says bitterly.
 
John pays while Dave struggles to get out of the vehicle. He waddles towards
the front door and John quickly overtakes him to go and unlock it.
 
When Dave gets inside, he sees that a large television has already been set up
in the living room. There's a couch in front of it which, he realises, John
must have moved in on his own whilst he was exploring upstairs. He's always
surprised at how strong John is.
 
“Go ahead, sit down,” John tells him. “I'm going to get some more things
sorted.”
 
Dave does. He makes himself comfortable and turns on the television. It gets
more channels than the one in his old room did so he kills some time looking at
what it has to offer. He can hear exertion from behind him, followed by
movement and scraping upstairs. He thinks of offering help, but he knows he
wouldn't be much good in his condition and there's no way John would accept
help any way.
 
He dozes off a little in between shows and jumps a little when John wakes him
up.
 
“Hey, sleepy head,” he says with a smile. “I've got your room set up if you
want to go to bed.”
 
Dave nods and follows John upstairs. There's a bed and a closet set up in the
room he chose, with a chest of drawers topped with his old television.
 
“Wow,” he says. “Thank you.”
 
“It's no trouble,” John says.
 
He pulls him close and gives him a quick kiss on the forehead.
 
“I've got some more to sort out before I can get some rest so I'll see you in
the morning, okay?”
 
Dave nods and lets John get to work. He opens his closet to see his clothes all
hung up neatly. Before he gets the chance to look around any more, though, the
bed starts calling to him. It's definitely a new bed, larger and sturdier
looking than his last one. He wonders when John picked it up as he gets into
it.
 
It's comfy. As hell.
 
He sleeps well that night.
 
***** Reunion *****
A few months pass and they settle into something close to their usual routine.
John's new job means he gets to work from home though so they get to spend more
time together. Dave spends most of his time downstairs with the new games
consoles John has set up for him.
 
He doesn't gain much more weight, despite the fact that he's almost constantly
snacking but John doesn't seem to mind. The two of them spend just as much time
exploring his body as they do feeding it.
 
Occasionally they go outside together and Dave enjoys getting to see the
outside world with John. One morning, though, something strange happens.
 
They've been visiting the local library together because the place rents out
DVDs and games as well as books. Dave asks John if they can go but it's a busy
morning for him. He has a lot of phone calls to take so he says no.
 
Dave is initially disappointed until John suggests something he'd never even
considered.
 
“You could go on your own, if you want,” John says.
 
“Really?” Dave asks.
 
He's half apprehensive, half excited. He hasn't been anywhere without John in
so long, he's not sure if he can.
 
“Sure, we don't have to worry about anyone seeing you and it's only around the
corner,” John says. “You'll come back, wont you?”
 
“Of course I will,” Dave says. “Especially if you have lunch ready.”
 
John winks at him and the phone rings again. Dave goes upstairs to grab his
library card and thinks about what he's going to do. He's about to walk two
blocks. On his own. He almost decides not to go but if John thinks he's ready,
maybe he is.
 
He says goodbye to John, hesitates at the door and the leaves. It takes him a
while to get there because he almost turns back a few times but he makes it in
the end. He gets a few games and makes it back to the house. When John opens
the door to let him in, he smells something delicious and his stomach rumbles.
 
Over the next few weeks, Dave goes out more and more. He goes to the local
diners to pick up lunch, he visits the library and he even goes to the grocery
store once to pick up some food.
 
John seems happy to let him explore because he trusts that Dave will always
come back.
 
One day, Dave decides to walk past the library to see what's there. He sees
some nice houses and then more urban development. There's a large building with
a big open space in front filled with kids a year or two older than him. They
have laptops and books with them. Then he spots the sign. It's a university
campus.
 
He thinks of how much fun it looks and then he feels a pang in his stomach when
he thinks about Dirk. He wonders what his brother is doing. He hopes he's
happy.
 
Dave makes walking past the university part of his usual routine. It makes him
happy to see everyone going to class. He thinks about Dirk when he sees them,
picturing him as one of the crowd, following his dream. He pictures him sitting
under the large oak tree with his friends, crossing the street with a bag full
of books, driving his car into the parking lot... Dave stares across the street
one day at a small group of kids and sees his brother among them, chatting and
laughing.
 
The boy that he imagines as Dirk turns to look at him. The boy freezes and
stares, wide eyed. Dave's heart races. He's not imagining anything. Dirk is
standing less than ten feet from him, eyebrows raised so high they're nearly
disappearing into his hairline.
 
Sure, Dave has gained enough weight that he doesn't look like whatever pictures
they put out on the news but Dirk is his brother. He knows him.
 
Dirk breaks away from his friends without saying a word and walks directly
towards him. Dave wants to run away because he knows Dirk will just mess
everything up for him but he also knows there's no way he'll be able to escape.
Dirk was always faster than him, even before his lost his athletic physique.
 
“Dave?” Dirk calls.
 
As he walks closer, Dave can see that there are tears in his brother's eyes.
 
“Dirk,” he says, quietly.
 
“What....” Dirk starts. “What the fuck? I thought you were dead!”
 
“I...” Dave trails off.
 
He doesn't know what to say.
 
“Where have you been?” Dirk asks. “Why are you...”
 
Dirk doesn't finish his sentence. Dave wonders what it was going to be. It
could have been “why are you here?” or “why are you about three times the
size?”.
 
“Look I'll explain,” Dave says. “Come with me.”
 
Dave makes a plan. If he lets Dirk get away from him, he's definitely going to
the police. There's no chance Dave wont be taken away and John would be in so
much trouble. Nobody would understand.
 
“What?” Dirk says. “No.”
 
“Well I'm going, you can come with me or you can stay here.”
 
Dirk frowns at him, giving him his best big brother look but Dave just turns
and walks away. He knows Dirk is following him. Dave speeds up as much as he
can, leading them past the library and back towards the house. He can feel
Dirk's eyes on the back of his head, can feel the questions hanging stagnant in
the air.
 
It doesn't take long to get back. He stands in front of the door, ready to
knock. Dirk grabs hold of his wrist tightly.
 
“Dave?” he asks. “What happened? Did you run away?”
 
Dave knocks the door.
 
“I told you,” Dave says. “I'll explain. Just let me get us inside.”
 
“Who are you staying wi-” Dirk begins but then John opens the door. “Mr.
Egbert?!”
 
John's eyes are wide and Dave starts to explain. Dirk tries to yell as John
pulls him inside and slams the door but John's hand covers his mouth perfectly.
Dave starts to panic. He doesn't want his brother to get hurt, he's missed him
dearly, but he doesn't want anything to get between him and John either.
 
Dirk flails, his arms and legs kicking out with fury but John manages to subdue
him. Dave just stands there, useless, as John reaches for a nearby ornament and
strikes Dirk hard on the head.
 
“No!” Dave cries out.
 
“Don't worry Dave, everything is going to be okay,” John tells him as he drags
his brother's limp body up the stairs.
 
***** Adjustment Period *****
A few hours pass and Dave starts to hear muffled cries from upstairs. John
walks into the living room with a tray of food. There's a lot, but nothing
compared to what Dave usually has for lunch. He tilts his head in confusion.
“What's happening?” he asks.
“Your brother is going to need to eat,”John tells him. “He looks as
malnourished as you did when you first came to me.”
Dave's head swims. He's a mess of emotions. Does John mean to do the same thing
to Dirk? Does that mean he gets to keep his brother with him? What if John
likes him more?
“Come on,” John says. “You can take this to him. Just make sure he eats it
all.”
Dave stands up and takes the tray. If John doesn't want to feed him himself,
then maybe everything will be okay. He climbs the stairs, knowing that getting
Dirk to eat even half of the food he's holding, even without the kidnapping,
will be a hard job.
The sounds get louder as he approaches the room at the end of the hallway. It's
not quite the office Dave had expected. It's empty, save for a small futon
that's been pulled out to make a bed. His brother is tied down with rope. Dave
guesses it must have been all John had at such short notice.
“Hi,” Dave says quietly.
Dirk moans through his gag, surely asking one of so many questions.
“Look I can take that off of your mouth,” Dave tells him. “But I need you to be
quiet, okay?”
He's pretty sure nobody would hear him any way, their house is detached, but he
doesn't want to hear his brother's questions right now.
Dirk nods and Dave sets the tray down on the floor before plopping down on the
futon. He reaches down to remove the gag. Dirk doesn't struggle. He does speak,
though.
“What's going on?” Dirk asks. “Why do you have food?”
Dave knows his brother is smart. He's sure if he hasn't put things together
yet, then he will soon enough.
“John thought you needed lunch and sent me to give it to you,” Dave tells him.
“I'm not eating anything that freak gives me,” Dirk says. “Look what he's done
to you.”
Anger bubbles up under Dave's skin. John is not a freak and the way Dirk had
said that last part... he sounded almost disgusted.
“There's nothing wrong with John,” Dave says. “Or me.”
Dirk makes a dismissive noise. Dave wonders how mad John will be if he doesn't
get Dirk to eat. He's not sure which of them he'd take it out on. He thinks for
a few moments, before coming up with a plan.
“Look,” Dave starts. “You need to eat some of it... I don't want him to hurt
you... Or me.”
That gets Dirk's attention.
“He hurts you?” he asks.
Dave puts on his best sad face.
“I just... it's been so long since I've seen you, I can't have him take you
away now.”
Dave picks the tray up and shows Dirk what he has. There's a large plate of
macaroni cheese, two muffins a candy bar and a home-made milkshake. Dave knows
he could finish it easily but Dirk will struggle.
“Just try to eat some of it,” he begs. “His cooking is actually pretty good.”
“Yeah, it shows,” Dirk says wryly.
“Come on, please?” Dave asks.
Dirk sighs and nods so Dave begins spooning the mac and cheese into his mouth.
Dirk doesn't speak after that, he just focuses on chewing and swallowing. He
makes it more than half way through the plate before pulling his head away. He
burps loudly and then shakes his head.
“No more, god,” he says.
“Dirk, you're going to have to do better than that,” Dave replies.
“Are you kidding me?” Dirk asks. “That plate is at least enough for two people,
there's no way I'm going to finish it.”
“Okay, what about a change of pace?” Dave suggests. “Try to drink some of the
milkshake and hopefully John will understand.”
Dirk shakes his head.
Dave can tell that his brother must be uncomfortable. His tight white tshirt
doesn't hide much and he's noticeably full already.
“Come on, just a little?” Dave asks. “Look, I've got a straw and everything.
You can take it really slow.”
Dirk concedes and opens his mouth when Dave presses the straw to his lips. He
sucks slows, barely making a dent in the milkshake but Dave knows just how
thick it must be. After ten or so minutes, Dirk stops drinking and spits the
straw out. He pants hard and Dave knows what he's feeling.
“Okay, okay,” Dave tells him. “Hopefully that'll be enough.”
“What's going to happen to the rest of it?” Dirk asks, eyeing the food left on
the tray.
“I don't know,” Dave says. “Maybe he'll make me finish it off after lunch.”
Dirk's eyes widen a little.
“Bro... you don't need any more food,” he says quietly.
Dave's face flushes. He knows what he must look like to his brother.
“Look, I'll be fine,” Dave says.
He can feel his stomach rumbling and he's tempted to finish off the food but he
can smell cooking from downstairs and part of him really doesn't want to show
Dirk just how easily he could polish off the tray.
“I've got to go,” he tells his brother. “I'll be back later.”
He places the gag back in his mouth, despite Dirk's protests and head back
downstairs with the half full tray. He carries it into the kitchen to see John
pulling a cake out of the oven.
“Is that all you could get him to eat?” John asks, disappointment evident in
his voice.
“I'm sorry,” Dave says. “But I got him to drink some of the shake, I thought
that might make up for it.”
“Hmm,” John muses. “Well, I've made you lunch but I don't want any of that
going to waste, either.”
“That wont be a problem,” Dave says.
He's wrong.
John gets him to sit down in front of the television and make a start on the
tray as he finishes up lunch. The lukewarm mac n cheese goes down easy, the
muffins and candy even easier. The milkshake takes a little effort because it
is extremely thick. As he finishes it, Dave does start to worry. He isn't
exactly hungry any more but he's sure John will take that into account.
When he sees just what John has in store for him, his jaw drops a little.
The macaroni cheese had obviously come from a much larger portion. John sets
down a casserole dish in front of Dave. It has about a fifth missing from one
corner. John hands him a fork.
“I'm sure you can handle this, right?” he asks.
John smiles at him but Dave feels like he's more mad at him than he's letting
on.
“Yeah,” Dave tells him.
John leaves him to it and Dave takes a second to just stare at the huge amount
of pasta in front of him. It's more than enough to test him even if he was
hungry. He starts eating, hoping to get as much in as possible before he has a
chance to feel full.
He all but shovels the food into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as quickly
as he can. It tastes better hot and it goes down smoothly. He's surprised how
much he manages to get through before he approaches the danger zone. By the
time his stomach starts to ache with fullness, he's two thirds of the way
through the dish.
Dave takes a shallow breath and shifts on the couch, trying to find a more
comfortable way to sit. He starts eating again, more slowly than before,
rubbing his hand absent mindedly over his belly. He can hear John talking on
the phone in the next room. He wonders how mad he is at him.
He keeps John's mood in mind while he forces himself to keep eating. Dave slows
down towards the end of the dish, pain flaring through his stomach but he
manages to swallow the rest of the pasta.
After that, he tries to focus on the television in front of him. He wants to go
upstairs to see his brother but there is no way he's going to be able to climb
the stairs like that. He hears John hang up the phone. He appears in the door
way.
“You finished already?” he asks.
“Yeah...” Dave says. “It was hard but I managed.”
“Wow, you're able to finish your brother's food and your own,” John says.
“Impressive.”
“I wont be able to keep doing it,” Dave warns him. “This was hard enough.”
“Well then,” John says. “You're going to have to make sure Dirk finishes his
portions.”
Dave sighs, knowing that that's easier said than done. He remembers just how
hard it had been when John first started feeding him and how long it had taken
his body to adjust to all of the food.
“I'll try,” he says.
John takes the dish from his as Dave relaxes on the couch. He takes a nap,
allowing his body time to digest. He doesn't wake up until it's starting to get
dark and he feels like he can move again. He's almost hungry, really. Well, not
hungry, he could just eat.
He rubs his eyes sleepily and then realises that he can't hear anything. It
doesn't sound like John is home. He flicks through channels for a while,
listening out for any sounds from upstairs.
Just as Dave is thinking of going up to check on his brother, he hears the
front door open and close and then smells the unmistakable scent of pizza. John
walks in, arms full of boxes and Dave's stomach rumbles audibly.
John places down a large pizza box with a sides box on top. He gives Dave a
small pizza box.
“For Dirk,” he says. “You think he'll be able to handle it?”
“Maybe,” Dave says. “I'll try to make him.”
There's a chance, Dave thinks. He's seen Dirk finish a medium pizza before but
he's sure he's still going to be full from the last feeding. Dave walks slowly
up the stairs, hoping that Dirk isn't going to try to fight him too much.
When he walks into the room, Dirk blinks at him a little. He'd been napping,
Dave can see.
“Hey, I've got dinner,” Dave says.
Dirk visibly rolls his eyes and glares at him. Dave reaches down and pulls the
gag out of his mouth and waits for his brother to start shouting at him but it
doesn't come.
“It's pizza...” Dave offers. “You still like pizza, right?”
Dirk just glares at him, eyes full of malice.
“I don't understand why you're helping him,” Dirk says. “Why are you doing this
to me?”
“I'm bringing you food,” Dave says, not quite understanding. “I can't just let
you starve.”
Dirk laughs. It's a cold sound, miles away from the joyous sound Dave is used
to hearing from him.
“Yeah, feeding me enough for three people, that's to stop me from starving.” he
says. “I'm going to end up like you and I wont let you do that to me.”
Dave wants to leave him there when he hears that. He feels hot tears welling
behind his eyes. Dirk thinks he's disgusting, he can hear it in his voice.
“I'm sorry,” Dirk says quietly. “I didn't want to upset you. Dave, John has
brainwashed you, I need you to see that...”
Anger flares inside of Dave. John hasn't done anything wrong. How could Dirk
accuse him of anything?
“Are you going to eat your pizza?” Dave asks.
Dirk shakes his head. Dave knows that John needs him to and he can't disappoint
him again. He knows exactly what to do.
“Look,” Dave whispers, looking around the room for effect. “I was hoping you
would help me to escape. If you don't eat this, I'll have to and you're not
going to be able to get me out of here if I can't walk.”
Dirk's eyes widen and Dave knows he's got him. There's no way a little bit of
extra pizza will have that much of an effect on his weight but Dirk doesn't
know that. He let's Dave feed him after that. He struggles a little with the
last piece but manages to finish it.
Dave leaves him, gag free, when Dirk promises not to make any noise. He walks
back downstairs, excited about his own pizza.
“Well?” John asks.
He smiles when Dave shows him the empty box and ruffles his hair. Dave sits
down on the couch and pries open the first box. John had gotten him cheesy
garlic box and it's slightly cooled, cheese hardening just enough for him to be
able to wolf it down without thinking.
He tosses the empty box aside and opens his pizza. John slides in beside him,
whispering praise as Dave devours the food in front of him. He doesn't stop
until the whole pizza is gone and his stomach is pleasantly teetering on the
brink of too-full.
“Do you want dessert?” John asks.
Dave's eyes light up at the mention of his favourite word. He nods excitedly
and John hops off of the couch. He returns momentarily with a large chocolate
cake. It must be three sponge cakes high with inch thick icing. John cuts a
large slice and places it on a plate.
“We're going to take this to your brother, then you get yours, okay?” John
asks.
Dave is a little disappointed, he wants his cake now but he's sure John wont
deprive him. They go upstairs together. Dave half expects his brother to start
mouthing off as soon as they step through the door. Dirk keeps his mouth shut
but he keeps his eye on John the entire time.
John hands the plate to Dave, along with a fork.
“Now, Dirk,” John starts. “I'm sure you can't be comfortable like that. I can
fix that if you finish eat your dessert.”
Dirk's eyes narrow.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says.
John doesn't even bristle. Dave's sure he expected resistance.
“Now, now,” John says, calmly. “There's no need to be like that. Dave, if you
will.”
Dave sits down on the bed, eyes pleading with his brother to just co-operate.
He doesn't want John to lose interest in him for his brother, but if they could
get on then it would make everything so much easier.
Dirk seems to sense his pleading because when Dave puts the fork to his mouth,
Dirk opens it and accepts the cake. He doesn't say another word to John the
entire time they're there but he eats the cake obediently. The only protests he
makes are slight grunts of discomfort towards the end. Dave can see how full he
is and appreciates the efforts his brother is going through.
“Thank you,” he whispers softly.
Dirk just stares at him as he finishes the cake.
“See, that wasn't so hard, was it?” John asks.
He walks closer to the bed, his eyes raking hungrily over Dirk's full stomach.
Dave feels panic start to rise up inside of him but John doesn't touch. He
looks for another few moments before turning away.
“Come on, Dave,” he says. “We can make your brother more comfortable later on
tonight.”
Dave follows him out of the room and down the stairs. He takes his place on the
couch and waits for John to sit down with him.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, looking at Dave with worried eyes. “You don't
look too happy.”
“Yeah, I'm okay...” Dave replies.
“No, you're not,” John says, wrapping an arm around him. “What's the matter?”
Dave takes a deep breath. There are lots of things bothering him but he can't
put them into words. He wishes he'd never seen Dirk. They'd had a good thing
going here and he wants everything to be how it was before.
“I saw the way you looked at him,” Dave says without thinking.
John smiles and shakes his head.
“Oh, baby, don't worry,” John says softly. “He's not going to replace you, he
could never replace you.”
“But you were looking,” Dave says.
“I'm human, I'm sorry,” John says. “You know what I like but everything looks
so much better when it's you.”
“Are you sure?” Dave asks.
“Of course I'm sure,” John says. “Now let's see how much of this cake we can
get inside you. Then you'll see how much I like looking at you.”
Dave smiles and John pulls the cake closer. He gives Dave a fork and lets him
dig in.
Dave starts slow, digging the fork into the outer icing and licking it off. He
can feel John's hungry eyes on him. He makes it through a portion nearly the
size he'd fed to Dirk before realising he needs to get another tactic.
“Can you get me something bigger?” Dave asks. “I don't think this fork is going
to cut it.”
John runs to the kitchen and returns with a large serving spoon. Dave grins and
digs it into the cake, tearing off a large chunk. He eats it off of the spoon
and goes back for more. He makes it through nearly a third of the cake before
he sits back, nearly defeated.
“Are you done?” John asks.
He sounds disappointed. Dave shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “I can fit a little more in, but I need you to feed it to me.”
John grins at him, running a warm hand over his packed belly. Dave looks down.
He's sure he hasn't really gained much weight since the move but the clothes
John had bought him are awfully snug. His tshirt is pulled tight around his
middle, fabric bunching up at the edges. His stuffed stomach looks rounder than
ever, firm beneath the red shirt.
John picks up the fork he'd first used and eases a little cake to his mouth.
Dave accepts it, focusing on John's eyes instead of the feeling in his gut.
It's going to be hard, but he's determined to at least finish a half of the
cake. He knows he can do it if he doesn't think about it.
“I need you to go faster,” he says. “Just cram it in before my body realises,
okay?”
John smiles widely and gives him more cake, speeding up just a little. Then he
goes faster and Dave barely has time to breathe between forkfuls. He eats and
eats, until the pain in his stomach becomes unbearable. Hiccups tear through
him, making him wince and he holds up a hand to make John stop.
“Hang on, give me a while and I'll see if I can take any more,” he says.
“You've done so well,” John says. “Just look at how much is left.”
Dave opens his eyes and stares at the cake. There's only just a little over a
quarter left. He didn't think he'd be able to handle that much but it explains
why he can't move. He feels his face flush when John just looks at him.
His eyes are full of pride and it is a thousand times more intense than the way
he'd looked at Dirk earlier. There's awe in there somewhere, amongst all of the
other emotions.
John's hands are so gentle when he places them on Dave's stomach. He rubs
slowly, coaxing a few burps from Dave before he switches the television on.
“You just relax there for a while,” John says. “I'm going to go sort out your
brother's room.”
Dave dozes for what could be a minute or a week before John wakes him up.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
There's a solid weight in Dave's belly but he feels okay. He rolls himself over
and sits up to let John sit down next to him.
“I'm alright, still pretty full though,” Dave says. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours,” John says. “Do you have room for more or shall I wrap this up
for breakfast?”
Dave looks at the cake. He knows what he should say but at the same time, it
feels like a challenge.
“I want to try,” he says.
John kisses him on the forehead before he picks up the fork. It takes another
hour and a lot of groans from Dave but the two of them manage to fit the rest
of the cake inside of him.
John has to help him to bed when he's done. When Dave wakes up and gets
dressed. He struggles to button his jeans for the first time in a while. He
smiles before walking out of his bedroom door.
***** Realisation *****
 
Over the next few weeks, Dirk stops fighting Dave at every turn. They spend
more time together, especially when John is working. Their talks are half faux-
conspiratorial and half about how Dirk's life has been since Dave went missing.
 
It isn't long before Dave starts noticing a change in his brother's appearance.
They don't talk about it but Dirk's shirt is tight around the small pot-belly
he's starting to grow. His face softens a little too and it's obvious that his
jeans are starting to be uncomfortable with the way he refuses to sit up.
 
John gave him a bed which he is now chained to. Dave remembers the discomfort
but he remembers the boredom more so he makes a point of visiting his brother
as often as possible.
 
“So, when are we getting out of here?” Dirk asks suddenly one morning.
 
“What? Why?” is Dave's only response.
 
“Because I'd like to as soon as possible,” Dirk says. “You know, whilst we
still can.”
 
He looks down at himself. It's the first indication he's given that he's aware
of his weight gain. Dave has to think fast. He hadn't thought of how they were
going to escape, because he wasn't actually planning on doing it.
 
“I think I need to win John's trust first,” Dave says. “He hasn't left me in
the house alone with you, yet.”
 
“Fair enough,” Dirk says. “I guess it'll be better to avoid violence.”
 
“Yeah,” Dave says. “He's not that bad, really.”
 
“What?” Dirk asks. “How can you say that. He. Kidnapped. You.”
 
“He did not!” Dave says. “He just kept me until I realised what I needed.”
 
“Oh, yeah,” Dirk retorts. “You needed to be tied up in a basement and force-fed
until you were three times the size!”
 
“Shut the fuck up,” Dave says. “I love him. I like being like this.”
 
“You love him?” Dirk asks.
 
“Yes!”
 
“No you don't.”
 
“No? Then what do you call it?”
 
“Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome, asshole?!”
 
Dave doesn't reply. There's no point. Dirk wont understand.
 
“Look, I'm sorry,” Dirk says. “I'm not trying to upset you. I just wish you
could see what he's doing to you. You should be free to leave if this is a
normal relationship.”
 
“I am!” Dave says. “He lets me go out, that's how I found you, remember?”
 
“And he's always nice to you, is he?” Dirk asks.
 
“Well no, but arguments are normal in a relationship, right?” Dave says. “He's
only human.”
 
“As long as he treats you well, I guess,” Dirk says, obviously defeated.
 
Dave leaves him. He can hear John preparing lunch downstairs but he mainly just
wants to get away from Dirk for two minutes.
 
“Do you think I could get the key for Dirk's handcuffs?” Dave asks. “I'll give
it back.”
 
“Why do you need it?” John asks.
 
“I wanted to leave him to eat lunch on his own today,” Dave tells him. “I'd
rather stay down here with you.”
 
“I guess that's okay,” John says. “As long as you lock him back up after. He's
not as good as you, I can't trust him yet.”
 
Dave agrees and he takes Dirk's lunch (a large plate of lasagne) to him and
puts it down on the bed.
 
“I'm going to let you have one of your arms free so you can eat it yourself,
okay?” he asks.
 
“Yeah...” Dirk agrees, understandably surprised.
 
“I just thought you'd appreciate the independence, that's all,” Dave tells him.
“Besides, I want my lunch now. I'll come get the plate in an hour.”
 
Dave unlocks one wrist and then leaves, locking the door behind him. He takes
his usual place on the couch, knowing what he's getting for lunch but not quite
realising how much of a challenge it's going to be.
 
“Now, I don't quite expect you to finish this, I'm just really curious how big
your capacity has gotten lately,” John says as he sets a dish down on the
coffee table.
 
Just like with the macaroni and cheese, Dirk's lasagne was part of a much
larger pan. Dave guesses the one in front of him, even with Dirk's portion
removed contains at least six large portions. Beside it is a plate full of
home-made cheesy garlic bread, dripping with mozzarella cheese.
 
Dave looks it over, stomach rumbling in anticipation. He's going to need a
while, probably a few breaks, but he's determined.
 
John watches him as he starts on the garlic bread, dipping it in the sauce
oozing from the dish of lasagne. He pulls the coffee table towards him and
picks up the fork next to the dish. With the fork in his right hand, garlic
bread in his left, Dave starts to make a dent in the food in front of him.
 
The lasagne is hard to get through; layers of meat sauce sandwiched between
thick pasta and cheese sauce, all topped with enough melted cheese to cover a
large pizza. It's delicious, though so it's easy to keep going. He makes it
through two portions worth and finishes off the garlic bread before he has to
stop for the first time.
 
Dave sits back, giving his stomach more room to spread out. He looks down at
his outfit, wondering how long it's going to fit with the way he's going. It's
one of John's favourites: a button down white shirt with light grey pin-stripes
and black jeans. The buttons of the shirt are already starting to strain, the
tight skin of his stomach starting to peek through the gaps in between.
 
He's not completely full yet, he's sure he could manage another portion but
Dave has a theory. He hopes that if he takes the break before he fills up
completely, he's going to be able to finish more in the long run.
 
His jeans are in a worse state than his shirt. The waistband is really starting
to dig into his skin so he undoes the button. John looks disappointed at that.
 
“I'm hoping to get more in this way, don't worry,” Dave says, flashing John a
grin.
 
He stretches out a little, one hand resting on his belly, rubbing small circles
and pressing into all the right places. He lets out a long burp and then
focuses on the television. There's a girl running away from a monster with some
guy trying to help her. He doesn't pay much attention.
 
Dave wakes with a start to see John smiling down at him.
 
“Are you going to finish you food now?” he asks.

Dave nods and sits up, feeling surprisingly hungry. Maybe he was out longer
than expected. He picks up the fork and digs into the cooling dish.
 
It goes down easy for a while until he starts to struggle again. He looks down
to see he has about half of the dish to go.
 
“John?” Dave asks.
 
“Yeah? What's up?” John replies.
 
“Can you warm this up for me?” Dave asks.
 
“Sure.”
 
John gets up and Dave hears the microwave start up. John walks back into the
room a few minutes later, dish steaming in his hands.
 
“You want me to feed you?” John asks.
 
“I think I need you to,” Dave replies.
 
He looks and feels somewhat like a beached whale. The buttons on his shirt are
straining even more than they had been before, they pinstripes bowing to show
just how round his stomach has become. The rolls at his side usually evident
through the fabric look diminished; partly due to the constricting fabric and
partly due to the amount of food crammed inside of him.
 
John plops down next to him, serving spoon in hand. He digs it into the newly
heated dish and holds it up to Dave's mouth. Dave lays back and lets himself be
fed, swallowing thick mouthfuls of food. There's getting to be less and less
room left inside of him but he powers through it, ignoring the ache of the
fabric pressing into him.
 
When it gets too much to bare, John lets him nap again. When Dave wakes up,
it's getting dark, he's still full and John is nowhere to be seen. Dave drifts
back into a haze until John returns.
 
“Your brother's had his dinner now and you're still on lunch,” John says. “I
think you need to step up your game.”
 
“S'alotta lasagne,” Dave grumbles.
 
“True,” John says. “You're nearly done, though. Think you've got enough room
for the last portion?”
 
Dave glances down, peeking over his globe of a belly. There's at least two
portions in the dish but he nods his head any way. John sits down and feeds him
the last of the food, until his belly outright hurts. He lays there and takes
it, groaning in pain as he swallows the last spoonful.
 
“Now, how long do you need to wait until dinner?” John asks. “Half an hour?”
 
Dave peers up at him. There's a devilish glint in his eyes and it makes Dave
feel sick.
 
“I can't eat any more,” Dave says.
 
“That's why I asked how long you need,” John says, as if it's obvious. “Don't
worry, it's nothing too big but you can't go skipping meals on me now, can
you?”
 
Dave sighs and closes his eyes. He feels like he's about to explode.
 
“Give me an hour,” he says.
 
John returns in an hour, on the dot. He has a tray with two double
cheeseburgers, large fries and two milkshakes. One shake is from McDonald's,
like the food, the other is home-made. Dave's stomach aches just looking at it.
Sure, it'd be an easy snack any other time but he's still so full and he feels
like he's not going to have much of a choice about cramming it all inside of
him.
 
John sits down beside him and just stares. Dave starts on the cheeseburgers,
swallowing handfuls of fries between bites. He eats like a starving man, trying
to get everything in before his body wont let him any more.
 
By the time he's on the second burger, he's moaning in pain, one hand on his
stomach. He takes shallow breaths, toes curling in his shoes at the feeling of
his shirt squeezing his gut. A burp ripples through him, giving him just enough
room to fit the last burger in.
 
A wave of nausea washes over him, which is something he hasn't felt in a long
time.
 
“Come on, you're not done already, are you?” John asks impatiently.
 
Dave wants to yell at him, because can't he see how much he's trying for him?
Can't he see how much pain he's in? He doesn't, though, he can barely breathe
so he just lays there until John picks up the first milkshake.
 
“Please, give me a minute to adjust,” Dave begs.
 
John ignores him and presses the straw to his lips. Dave just shuts his eyes
and stays still, hoping John wont resort to anything worse. He's not so lucky.
He yelps in pain when John jabs a finger into his stomach. The pain burns, the
sick stretch of his skin adding to everything as he almost vomits.
 
“John, please,” Dave begs around the straw. “I'm trying, honestly I am. You
know I'll finish, just give me time.”
 
Dave wishes he didn't have to. He's full, he's going to be full for the rest of
the night, he knows it. But John always gets what he wants.
 
Dave sucks slowly, swallowing tiny mouthfuls at a time. He still feels like
he's inflating to bursting point and the curves of the pinstripes on his shirt
don't exactly disagree. He can see the soft fat of his belly squeezing its way
out of the gaps between the buttons.
 
He keeps drinking, so slowly that it takes him nearly an hour to finish, going
by the adverts on the television. When John hears the sound of the cup being
finished, he takes the straw out of Dave's mouth, pulls it out of the lid and
sticks it in the home-made milkshake.
 
Dave nearly cries. He can feel the tears starting to well up but he tries to
ignore it. John's milkshakes are so much thicker than anything from McDonald's
and he's pretty sure they have at least a normal day's worth of calories in
them. He's going to burst if he drinks that too, he just knows it.
 
“What's wrong, Dave?” John asks. “Surely you can handle one little milkshake.
Or am I going to have to dig out the funnel?”
 
Dave's heart pounds at that. John hasn't used the funnel in so long and Dave
doesn't want to think about what it would do to him right now. He shakes his
head. He accepts the straw when John gives it to him and starts sucking.
 
He takes it so slowly, he can barely see the level in the glass moving at all.
Slowly but surely, though, it does start to drop.
 
John doesn't poke him any more, maybe he's actually scared he'll pop him if he
does. By the time Dave makes it to the bottom of the glass, he's in so much
pain he can barely think straight. He listens to the sounds of John tidying up
around him and then hears him say something he can't even comprehend.
 
“Right, time to get you up those stairs,” he says. “It's way past bedtime.”
 
Dave wants to tell him that that's because he's kept him up until he consumed
enough food for a small village, but he can't string enough words together.
 
“No...” he whimpers.
 
“You need to sleep, Dave,” John says coldly. “Don't be so lazy.”
 
“Sleep... here...” he manages.
 
“Fine. Don't complain to me when you wake up freezing.”
 
 
***** Escape *****
When Dave wakes up,he's covered in a thick blanket. There's a box of doughnuts
in front of him with a note on top.
 
“Sorry I went a bit overboard last night, eat these if you want them. -John”
 
Dave doesn't, not right now but they are his favourites. He stretches and the
blanket falls down a little. He's still in his clothes from last night and he's
sure the shirt looks even tighter than it had yesterday. He presses his fingers
into his stomach to test how full he still is and they sink right into his soft
flesh. It's obviously past noon, he's almost fully digested the meal from the
night before but the buttons on his shirt are still straining dangerously. When
he sits up, the gaps between them stretch wider, pulling on the cotton threads.
 
Dave pulls himself up and struggles to button his jeans back up. He's
definitely bigger than he was, or maybe he's just softer than he remembers.
Maybe he's still a little bloated. He grabs two of the doughnuts to munch on
before padding his way to the kitchen. John isn't there. There's another note
on the counter.
 
“There's food in the fridge if you need it, Dirk's had breakfast and lunch,
thought I'd let you sleep. Should be back by midnight, I've got a meeting out
of town. -John xxx”
 
Dave looks in the fridge and sees three large pizzas, still in their boxes. He
leaves them there and heads back to the couch to watch some television whilst
he fully wakes up. His traitorous stomach growls loudly. After everything he
ate last night, he shouldn't be fucking hungry, but he reaches for the
doughnuts anyway.
 
He polishes them off whilst watching some cartoon he doesn't recognise. It must
be new, or at least must have started airing after he went to live with John.
 
When the credits roll, he turns the television off and climbs the stairs to see
if his brother is in a better mood. With what happened before he went to sleep,
he doesn't want another lecture.
 
“I thought you two might have gone out,” Dirk says when he enters his room. “I
haven't heard much noise from downstairs.”
 
“John's out, I just woke up,” Dave says.
 
He sees Dirk look him over, eyes widening when he reaches the buttons on his
shirt.
 
“So...” he says. “When are we getting out of here?”
 
“Soon,” Dave says.
 
“Why not now?” Dirk asks. “John isn't here to stop us and I don't want to risk
staying here much longer.”
 
“Why not?” Dave asks, even though he's sure he knows what Dirk will say.
 
“Why not?” Dirk parrots. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? I want you
walking out of here with me, remember?”
 
“Believe it or not, my weight's been pretty much the same since we moved into
this house,” Dave says.
 
“Bullshit,” Dirk says. “That shirt fit you fine last week and now it looks like
it's about to burst open. John's using you, can't you see it?”
 
Dave turns to leave, but his body still aches from the way John had pushed him
the night before. He pauses, just to catch his breath.
 
“Please don't leave me in here,” Dirk says quietly.
 
He sounds so small, sad and it hurts Dave to hear it. Dirk is his brother. He
loves him so much but he's caught between two different types of love. He goes
to sit down on the bed, not meeting his brother's eyes.
 
“Look, I'm worried about you, Dave,” Dirk says. “Sometimes you come in here and
you don't even seem happy.”
 
“I'm happy,” Dave says.
 
“Really?” Dirk asks. “I could hear you last night, you know.”
 
Dave feels sick, his stomach turning to ice at his brother's words. Last night
had been a fluke, sure, but he couldn't pretend it didn't hurt.
 
“John was just...” Dave starts.
 
“What?” Dirk asks. “No, really, please tell me what gives him the right to
treat you the way he does.”
 
“I can't do this right now,” Dave says.
 
He gets up and leaves, ignoring Dirk's protests.
 
He spends the rest of the day in front of the television, eating his sorrows.
John comes home at nine o'clock and by the time he walks through the door, Dave
has finished two of the pizzas and all of the candy bars he found in the
kitchen cupboards.
 
“Hey,” John says as he walks in. He kisses him on the forehead. “Are you saving
that one for your brother or has he already eaten?”
 
“No, I want this one,” Dave says coldly. “Do we have anything else for him? Can
you give it to him?”
 
“Sure,” John says. “But why, what's wrong?”
 
“We had a fight,” Dave tells him. “I don't want to see him right now.”
 
“Okay baby,” John says. “How about we get you fed first, huh?”
 
Dave nods. He's a little full from eating all day but he can fit more in. John
hands him the pizza box and Dave takes two slices, stacking them together
before taking a bite.
 
John watches him proudly but Dave can't look at him without remembering how
he'd been the night before. When he finishes the two slices, he clears his
throat.
 
“Can I ask you something?” he asks.
 
“Sure,” John says. “What's up?”
 
“Why were you so mean last night?” Dave asks.
 
“What?” John asks. “Didn't you get my note? I said I was sorry.”
 
“Yeah, I got it,” Dave says. “But you still did it.”
 
“I know, I'm sorry,” John says. “I'm really sorry baby, but I was just in a bad
mood.”
 
“It's not the first time you've done it though, is it?” Dave asks, a little
more dominance in his voice.
 
John's face clouds with something Dave hasn't seen since this all started. It's
the same face he used to make when Dave would fight him.
 
“Well maybe I wouldn't have to if you did what you were damn told,” John says
coldly. “Now. Eat.”
 
Dave doesn't know what to do. He wants to cry.
 
“I thought you loved me,” he says quietly.
 
“I do, baby, I do,” John says as he picks up a slice of pizza. “When you do as
you're told.”
 
John forces the slice into Dave's mouth and he tries to spit it out. People
don't love people when they feel like it. Love isn't so conditional. Either you
love somebody or you don't, it's that simple. Maybe his brother was right.
 
Dave struggles but John has his methods.
 
“Don't tell me I'm going to have to keep you in your room again,” John
threatens.
 
Dave stops struggling, knowing that if John ties him up again, there's no way
for him to escape.
 
“I'm sorry,” he chokes out. “I'll do it, I'll do whatever you want.”
 
“Well, you know what I want,” John says.
 
Dave keeps eating the pizza, trying not to think about the tears leaking down
his face. He swallows around the lump in his throat and accepts everything John
gives him until the box is empty.
 
“Now, you just wait there,” John says. “I got you dessert when I was out.”
 
Dave struggles to sit up when John leaves for the kitchen. He thinks about
making a run for it but there's no way he'd make it. He's too full to even make
it up the stairs. His shirt is so tight he's surprised it hasn't ripped off of
him yet.
 
He knows what he has to do.
 
When John walks back into the room, Dave finally lets himself cry properly. He
sobs, shakes, surely making a mess of his face but he doesn't care.
 
“I'm so sorry,” he says. “I'm sorry I misbehaved. Dirk just kept saying things
about you and I was scared you didn't love me any more.”
 
“You know I love you,” John says as he sits down beside him.
 
He pulls Dave into an embrace but it feels hollow. He has a pint of ice cream
and a spoon in one hand and he wastes no time getting the carton open.
 
“Come on now, eat your ice cream,” he says as he starts spooning the dessert
into Dave's mouth.
 
He doesn't protest, despite the ache in his gut. He needs to make John think he
can still be trusted so he eats until he can barely breathe.
 
He looks down and sees there's still a third of the carton to go so he keeps
going. There's a sudden sound and lurching relief as three buttons fly off of
his shirt.
 
“Wow,” John says. “Holy shit.”
 
Dave looks down at himself. He's amazingly round, rolls sitting upon rolls and
he isn't sure what to think any more.
 
Still, he finishes his ice cream and lets John cover him with the blanket
before he goes up to feed Dirk.
 
Later on, John helps him to bed and Dave kisses him goodnight like nothing is
the matter.
 
In the morning, Dave goes straight in to see Dirk after getting dressed.
 
“Hey,” he whispers quietly.
 
Dirk blinks his eyes open and looks at him quizzically. Dave is sure that he
looks a sight. His jeans are barely holding together and his tshirt, the one
he'd been wearing during the move, doesn't quite cover the last two inches of
his belly.
 
Dirk isn't doing much better, though. His shirt is clinging tight, showing off
every pound that's been added to his frame. There's a definitely belly
underneath it. Nothing compared to Dave's, sure, but big enough to sink your
fingers into. The button on his skinny jeans look to be in the same condition
as Dave's. They could burst any second now.
 
“What do you want?” asks Dirk.
 
“We're getting out of here,” Dave says. “Give me until after breakfast, I have
a plan.”
 
Dave leaves the room, taking care to lock it behind him. He can't let John
suspect anything is out of place.
 
“Morning,” he says as he walks into the kitchen. “Is that breakfast? I'm
starving.”
 
“It sure is,” John says cheerfully. “I'm making pancakes. Do you want me to go
feed your brother while you eat?”
 
“No, it's okay,” Dave says. “I can do it. He's an asshole but he's still my
brother, you know? He'll come round eventually.”
 
“That's good,” John says. “I have a lot of work to do today anyway.”
 
Dave had been counting on that. John always seemed to have more calls to make
on a Saturday.
 
“I'm going to wait on the couch, okay?” Dave asks. “How long do you think
they'll be?”
 
“Let's say ten minutes,” John says. “I just want to get the bacon sorted.”
 
Dave fakes a smile and walks into the next room. He doesn't have long. He looks
around John's desk and finds what he's looking for. There's a small pair of
scissors that John used to open most of their moving boxes. Dave takes them and
then quietly slips out of the back door. There's a group of wires that runs
around the wall of the house. The black one is the television aerial, he knows
that. He hopes the white one is for the telephone line.
 
He cuts it, quickly, in the place that runs under the drainpipe. He's hoping it
wont be too noticeable. Then, as quickly as he can, he slips back into the
house, replaces the scissors and checks the phone. The LED light is off. He
really hopes that means his plan worked.
 
He eats his breakfast quickly as John sets up for the day. There are papers he
has to get ready before he makes his calls, Dave knows that. He's not even
really sure what John does but he thinks he's a salesman of some kind.
Telesales from home, maybe? It doesn't matter.
 
He forces down the last of his breakfast before putting the next stage of his
plan into action. Timing is key and he's cutting it kind of close.
 
“You think I could get the keys again?” he asks. “I'm hoping it'll help Dirk to
open up to me.”
 
“Sure, it couldn't hurt,” John says.
 
He hands Dave the keys just before he picks up the phone. He frowns and Dave
hopes that's because he doesn't hear the dial tone. He knows it was important
to ask for the keys first, just to make sure John doesn't suspect anything.
 
“What the hell?” John mutters.
 
He pulls out his cell phone as Dave leaves the room. Dave had expected that but
he knows John rarely gets signal inside the house. As Dave picks up the tray
containing Dirk's breakfast he hears the back door open.
 
Dave grins to himself as he goes upstairs. He throws open his brothers door and
set the food on the floor.
 
“Okay, we're going to be leaving soon,” he says.
 
“What, now?” Dirk asks as Dave unlocks both handcuffs.
 
“Give me two minutes,” Dave says.
 
He finds Dirk's shoes and helps him to put them on. Next he looks out of the
window and sees John at the bottom of the garden, shouting at somebody over the
phone.
 
“Okay, we're going to have to go now,” he says. “Quickly.”
 
Dirk struggles to his feet. Dave remembers how hard it was for him to stand up
after spending a while in bed. He knows this isn't going to be easy for his
brother but they don't have any time to spare.
 
He helps Dirk down the stairs and then looks around quickly for John. His heart
hammers in his chest. They're going to do it.
 
They're going to make it happen.
 
He pulls open the front door and closes it quietly behind them. The more time
they have to get away, they better. He doesn't know where exactly they're
going, he hadn't thought that far ahead, but Dirk seems to have some idea.

Dave follows his brother down the street and towards the library. The two of
them struggle, their clothes too tight to allow for fluid movement but before
long they pass the library and continue onwards. Dave recognises the university
building as they pass it and he wonders if John knows that he's gone yet. He
wonders how far it'll take him to find them.
 
Dirk drags them across the street and Dave isn't sure what he's planning until
he sees who they're walking towards. It's a member of campus security.
Instinctively he freezes. Is he going to be in trouble?
 
He watches as Dirk speaks to the man in uniform and as the man looks back and
forth between him and his brother. His face goes from confused to horrified in
seconds and then he radios something in.
 
“Come with me,” the man says gently as he walks up to Dave. “We'll get you some
place safe.”
 
Dave isn't sure if he wants to move or not. His head is swimming, blood rushing
in his ears and all he can process is Dirk's pleading eyes. Despite himself,
Dave lets himself be dragged away, into the back of a car.
 
After that there's the hospital with the blood and toxicology tests and then
another type of hospital entirely. There's the visits from his brother and the
doctors who poke and prod him, mentally and physically. There are days when
Dave doesn't speak and others when he feels completely fine.
 
There's the doctor that makes him feel like he's done something terribly wrong,
despite her assurances that he hasn't. There's something about the way she
looks at him with her dark eyes and darker lips, like he's something altogether
interesting, that makes him squirm.
 
There's the other doctor that he likes a little better because she's just so
nice and after a while, she takes him outside to see nature. She takes him on
walks with her dog and everything feels just a little bit better.
 
***** Five Years Later *****
Chapter Notes
     Mini-chapter because this needed to be broken up.
     Thank you guys for all of your support, you're all amazing.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dave sits at his desk and stares ahead at the lecturer. He's zoned out but it's
not like the class is hard. He doesn't have to write anything or really bother
taking notes because the exam is only 10 percent of his grade anyway. He'll get
marked mostly on the quality of his portfolio and if there's one thing he
knows, it's that his photography is awesome.
 
It's not that he takes his time at college for granted, hell, he knows he was
lucky to get in at all considering everything that happened but the lectures
make him sleepy. Classes only started three weeks ago and he's already sick of
the lecturer's droning voice.
 
After, he heads to the cafeteria because they have the cheapest pizza in town.
He grabs himself a slice, a bottle of water and some fruit for lunch. He finds
a seat and sits down before turning his phone off of silent.
 
“Pizza again, Strider? You want to watch out for the dreaded freshman fifteen.”
 
Dave looks up to see a guy from his photography class sitting down across from
him. He flushes uncontrollably. Nobody on campus knows about his past. He's
trying to pretend it didn't happen but even now, eating one slice of pizza for
lunch seems so little.
 
He's lost almost all of the weight that John had made him gain. Sure, he has a
little belly but nobody would call him fat, not even chubby. He thinks about
what the guy had just said and something twists inside of him. Like one slice
of pizza a day would do anything to him. It was nothing.
 
He leaves as soon as he's finished, not even bothering to say goodbye to his
classmate. He walks straight back to his dorm room and calls the number to the
nearest pizza place,
 
“Hello, Pizza Palace, can I take your order?” the lady on the phone asks.
 
“Hi, yeah, I'll have one large pepperoni, stuffed crust, one large meat feast,
also stuffed crust and a side of garlic bread, please,” Dave says without
missing a beat.
 
“Will that be all sir?” she asks.
 
“Uh, chuck in some ice cream too, will you?” he asks. “Chocolate if you've got
it.”
 
 
                                    THE END
Chapter End Notes
     Okay guys this is the end. Like for real the end.
     I'm in a writing mood right now (although I don't know how long
     that'll last). My tumblr is tomlipinskisfreckles so message me if you
     have a request for what you'd like me to update next. I'm going to
     try to finish some before starting more.
     Please let me know what you think of the ending, I'm sorry if it
     seems a bit sudden after I only just started updating again. I know
     some of you wanted to see more happen with Dirk but this is the way
     it went. I knew what was going to happen until he turned up and then
     it just kind of wrote itself.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
     So I realised the ending was a little too open ended. Ignore this if
     you want, but I wanted to really explain how I saw the future for
     Dave. He's accepted the wg idea and exploring it in a much more
     healthy way. Take the relationship at the end to be whatever you
     will, although I see it blossoming into a semi-romantic but mainly
     kink kinda thing.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
 
Dave opens his laptop and boots it up. He takes a quick look over his current
portfolio and makes a quick note of what he has to do.
 
“Dude, I'm off now,” his roommate says. “I'll probably be out all weekend, I'm
going to see a girl.”
 
Dave flashes a thumbs-up and waits for the door to click closed behind him
before opening his browser. He'd been waiting for two hours for the guy to
leave.
 
Sure, he knows he's not even interested in whatever Dave gets up to and there's
little to no chance that he'd be able to see his screen but there are some
things you can only really get up to with nobody else in the room.
 
He logs onto the site and checks his messages. He has three, all from the same
person.
 
golgothasTerror:
Your latest photograph is amazing.
 
golgothasTerror:
Seriously you look *amazing* and I wanted to ask you something. If it isn't too
much of a bother do you think we could swap names? Its been a year now since we
started talking and I hate knowing I could walk past you every day and not even
know its you. Ive been looking at people in class and wondering if it might be
you because of the shape of them.
 
golgothasTerror:
Its cool if you dont want to though ill understand.
 
Dave takes a breath. He really wants to meet this guy but he's so apprehensive.
He'd been talking to him since he started school. It was kind of miraculous
that he'd even been able to find anyone close by that was interested in the
same kind of thing as him. Sure, it made him worry at first that whoever he was
talking to might be just as bad as John had been but over the months, it's been
making feel like less of a freak.
 
So, every Friday night, Dave has been stuffing himself silly, taking a photo
and sending to some random guy. He never includes his face or anything
identifying, obviously.
 
At first it had just been that. He'd sent the photos and they'd chatted a
little but Dave has to admit, over the last few months, they'd been getting
closer. The two of them talk most nights, usually about kink stuff, sometimes
vaguely talking about their day.
 
It's really nice to have someone to come home to, even in a digital sense to
talk to about the dark things bouncing around in your brain.
 
Over the last year, since he'd started college, Dave had packed a bit of weight
back on. He's nowhere near the size he had been but he could get there, he
knows he could. Especially if he had GT's help. The two of them have discussed
fantasies and GT had confessed to really wanting to feed him but it seemed so
different to how John had been.
 
He seemed kind and always worried about upsetting Dave. He said they'd need a
safe word and they'd need to discuss safe and sane practises. Dave feels like
he'd be a lot safer with GT, especially considering he is a lot more submissive
than John had been.
 
He pauses to think for a moment before typing out his reply.
 
turntechGodhead:
yeah I think id really like that
you want to meet up tomorrow
 
GT's reply comes within minutes.
 
golgothasTerror:
That would be swell. Where do you want to meet?
 
The two of them figure out a time and place. The next morning, Dave showers and
gets ready, uncharacteristically nervous. He picks out an outfit, going for a
shirt that he knows GT likes. It's tight in all of the right places.
 
Dave had worn the shirt to meet up with Dirk the week before and it had made
his brother have a very concerned talk with him. Dave played it cool, expecting
it and completely understanding his brother's worry. He knew he'd gained at
least thirty pounds since they'd last met up. Luckily, Dirk had his own
struggles with the issues, never really managing to lose the weight he'd gained
when they were with John.
 
Dave makes it to the restaurant just on time and looks around. He sees plenty
of people from school, it is only two blocks over from the main campus after
all. He looks for the guy GT had described in his last message: tall, dark
hair, wearing a green jacket.
 
When he spots him his stomach drops out for two reasons. Firstly, he knows him.
He's in his photography lab group. He's the guy he remembers telling him to
watch out for the freshman fifteen (which he had surpassed within his first
month) and now realises there may have been a reason for that comment.
 
The second reason that Dave starts to panic is, now that he looks at him in an
entirely new context, Dave realises that the guy looks a lot like John. Sure,
he's younger and taller and definitely more handsome but there's definitely a
resemblance.
 
A coincidence, for sure.
 
Dave approaches him and the guy, Jake, turns around. His eyes light up at the
sight of him, gaze flicking down across his body.
 
“I was hoping it would be you.”
 
Chapter End Notes
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