Andrew’s lithe body trembled, his jaw clenched, and he shot a massive load that splattered against the wall behind him. Dylan swiped some jizz from Andrew’s chest and licked it off his fingers as he continued to pound his boyfriend’s ass. His sizable uncut cock pumped in and out of the twink’s tight hole. It was an uncharacteristically hot spring, and they were both covered in sweat. For the first time in his life, Dylan noticed a small pillow of fat that clung to his abs jiggled ever so slightly. He nutted inside Andrew and collapsed onto the bed. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing.
“That was really hot,” Dylan sighed.
“Totally,” Andrew replied.
“You know what sounds great now?“
"Some pizza,” Dylan chuckled. There was an extended pause before he continued, “Or not?"
"I just… I thought you already grabbed dinner at the office?” Andrew queried.
“Yeah, so? It was just like appetizers or whatever. I’m not allowed to still be hungry?"
"Well, I don’t wanna make you feel bad or anything but you’ve really been packin’ it on lately."
"Wow,” Andrew sat up.
“Is six foot and a hundred sixty pounds not twink enough for you, Andrew?"
"Come on, I didn’t mean…"
"I know what you meant. What, am I not hot enough unless you can see my ribs? I guess you did shoot a pretty big load just now, but maybe all you care about is the size of my cock?"
"Fucking Christ, Dylan! What, you’d rather me keep my mouth shut while you turn into a fat fuck?"
"Whoa! I’m hardly fat! I’m still a twink by any normal person’s standards."
"I’m not saying you’re fat, but this is how it starts. I saw it with my mom– mark my words. You graduate college, get a cushy office job, sit on your ass all day, and before you know it you don’t fit in any of your clothes. I mean, c'mon we both know you barely fit into those brown skinny jeans anymore."
"I do not sit on my ass all day."
"Oh, come ON. Half the time you’re too lazy to even make it to the office so you work from home so you can eat chips and soda in your underwear. I’m not stupid Dylan, I see it happening, I see the cellulite on your thighs and your paunchy gut. I’m saying it because I care about you."
"If you cared about me you wouldn’t give a fuck about ten extra pounds."
"Fuck you Andrew and fuck your brain washed little mind. I should’ve known better than to date a marketing major."
"Are we done here?"
"I don’t know, are you done fat shaming?"
Andrew didn’t respond and Dylan walked to the bathroom and closed the door. He was still naked and covered in dried come. A wave of guilt and self loathing washed over him as he stared at his body in the mirror. He had gained weight. Probably about twenty pounds since he started work in the fall. Dylan pinched his belly fat and released it, noticing how it jiggled back into place. His eyes drifted from his paunch as he noticed slight lovehandles had formed above his hips. His silhouette has become more of a square than the bony and defined V it was several months ago.
Dylan turned around to examine his thighs and ass. Andrew was right, his lower body was caked in cellulite. He did a little hop and watched the flab on his posterior reverberate. He turned back around and noticed his thighs were nearly touching. He squeezed one and watched his pale skin turn pink from the pressure. He never knew fat was so soft and couldn’t resist squeezing his thighs and ass for several minutes. Strangely, his cock twitched with slight arousal. Dylan ignored it as another wave of guilt hit him. How did this happen?
Andrew must have been right- it was the office job. When he was still in school he had free time to bicycle, go on hikes, and just walk around town. Since he got a job all he did was sit on his ass and then come home and drink beer. Sure, there was the occasional weekend activity, but more often than not that consisted of dinners, movies, or getting wasted with friends and chowing down on greasy food at the end of the night. It dawned on him that even at work he was usually munching on the copious amount of free snacks that clients would deliver.
After his shower, Dylan nervously stepped on the bathroom scale. During the argument he claimed he weighed 160 but the scale was reading 178. This mean Dylan had put on about 25 pounds since graduating. Andrew was right, he was turning into a fat ass.
Feeling overwhelmed and defeated, Dylan hopped in his car to go for a cruise. He was now painfully aware of how the elastic waistband of his joggers pushed up his belly fat and how the seat belt made it even more prominent. Even his T-shirt felt tighter around his midsection. Everything Andrew said was correct. He had developed a post-grad, office job, dad bod. How had he not noticed this weight gain? It was humiliating to realize his burgeoning paunch and increased appetite was probably a source of gossip at the office and among his friends. His self-esteem was plummeting, which, ironically, only spurred the desire to comfort eat.
In the distance a glowing pair of yellow arches appeared and Dylan felt a pang of hunger in his gut. He couldn’t believe he was craving McDonald’s after what had transpired with Andrew. He felt like such a pathetic piggy wanting fast food. But, it had been about three hours since he last ate. And he barely ate anything at the office anyway. Plus, the car was already headed toward the fast food chain so might as well. Dylan rationalized that he could start dieting in the morning- might as well have one last hurrah. He pulled into the drive thru.
"Welcome to McDonald’s how may I take your order."
"Hi, um I’ll do a Big Mac with large fries.”
“Will that complete your order, sir?"
"Um well, I guess a large chocolate shake too… Fuck it and two chocolate chip cookies."
Dylan received his food and drove to the darkest corner of the parking lot to stuff his face in shame. He consumed the burger in record time and began guzzling down the shake in between fist fulls of French fries. His sadness and hunger blurred into a delirium of gluttony, and while his stomach was increasingly full, the hunger inexplicably refused to dissipate. Once again, Dylan’s cock begin to stiffen while the fries disappeared into his mouth almost as quickly as the burger. Dylan’s full attention was now directed towards gulping down the shake. When all that remained was a mound of whipped cream, he removed the lid and dipped the chocolate chip cookies. He felt wonderfully full but still craved more. In a fog of intense hunger he pulled back into the drive thru and ordered two McChickens with extra mayo.
After polishing off the final sandwich he leaned back in his car, let out a momentous belch, and looked down to see an engorged belly splattered with drops of mayo, and a girthy, fully erect cock straining against sweatpants. A brief moment of guilt dissipated as Dylan instinctually scooped up some of the mayo, plopped it in his mouth, then scooped up some more and began to masturbate. He shot his load almost instantly.
Dylan closed his eyes for a few minutes as the come on his shirt mixed with mayonnaise. He opened them to see the mess splattered across his swollen and bloated body. He was overcome with disgust. What was happening to him?
TOP FIVE STORIES PEOPLE HAVE ABOUT VICTOR "MY HUSBAND" NIKIFOROV
HOW CAN I PICK JUST FIVE, DADVANS, HE IS LIKE, A CRYPTID THAT JUST WANTS TO SHOW YOU PICTURES OF HIS BEAUTIFUL HUSBAND AND ADORABLE DOG. WHO PROBABLY DON’T EXIST. HE PROBABLY BOUGHT OUT SOME DUDE’S STOCK OF MODELING PHOTOS. THERE’S NO WAY A DUDE THAT CUTE EXISTS IN THIS TOWN, WE’D KNOW ABOUT IT.
“okay you know that guy who comes in, the russian one that tips well?” “wait, the one that’s always talking about his husband and their dog?” “yeah, that guy! he came in with cupcakes he said his husband made, they’re in the break room.”
“so we had this girl being harassed, and like, this super gay dude just sat down beside her, whipped out an ipad, and started showing her pictures of his husband and their dog like he’d known her for years, and the guy trying to hit on her tried to tell him they were talking, and the super gay dude says, in this super Russian accent ‘don’t be stupid, nobody would want to talk to you. go away. we’re looking at pictures of my husband’.” “LMAO that’s My Husband, he’s always here when his husband is travelling.”
“this guy came in to get an actual fucking blue rinse on his hair and spent the entire time talking about how his husband learned how to knit and made him a scarf and he went on and on about how talented he was” “was the scarf good” “lmao it looked like someone threw yarn against a wall and picked it up all tangled” “what did you say?” “what do you think I said, he tipped me 40% and took ten cards.”
“I think My Husband is catfishing us, because I looked at the pictures he has of My Husband and lmao that’s like, Yuri Katsuki the skater.” “what, really?” “I mean, My Husband is hot or whatever, but can you imagine being married to him?” “lmao he probably downloaded the pictures and built this entire imaginary life about him and Katsuki, poor dude.”
“GUYS. GUYS, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ALERT. ALERT. GUYS. MY HUSBAND’S HUSBAND IS AT THE BAR, AND HE HAS OUR DOG WITH HIM. ALERT. ALERT. MY HUSBAND’S HUSBAND AND OUR DOG ARE REAL, AND THEY’RE SITTING AT THE BAR. ACT CALM.” “holy shit it’s actually yuri katsuki.” “are you fucking kidding me.”
If one hypothetically wanted to read your Eldritch Abomination Garfield fic, how would one go about finding it as directly searching for 'garfield' hypothetically does not include the fic?
“They bought it?” Lyman asked as Jon hung up the phone.
“I got the contract,” Jon confirmed, dazed. “I’m — I’m syndicated.”
“You did it, man!” Lyman said, clapping him on the back. Odie barked.
“They’re already thinking about merchandising deals,” Jon continued, staring into space.
“I told you things were going to turn around for you,” Lyman said with a nod. Odie continued barking, making it clear that he was not just trying to be supportive. “Hey, look, I’ve gotta take the dog for a walk. If the alarm goes off while I’m gone, can you take dinner out of the oven?”
“Yeah,” Jon said, with no real conception of what he was agreeing to. He still had not yet finished processing that phone call, the idea that he was going to be paid, consistently, that he was a working cartoonist, that his comics would be in papers. Merchandising deals. Merchandising.
It was not until he heard the door that Jon realized he was alone in the apartment.
Just him, and Garfield.
From the corner, it growled.
Jon’s heart spasmed; he hadn’t realized it was in the same room. “H—hey,” he said. It would have been a dumb thing to say if it was a normal cat. It was a dumber thing to say under the circumstances. Its eyes glowed red in the shadows. “How are you?” he asked, then winced as the cat growled again. “Heard the good news?” he asked weakly.
MY END OF THE CONTRACT HAS BEEN FULFILLED
It rumbled through his brain like an earthquake, words without words. He covered his ears even though it wouldn’t help. “Yeah, thanks for—”
I WILL FEED
Jon’s heart spasmed again, overwhelmed with the sense of a hunger not his own. “Right, about that—”
YOU WILL FEED ME it said, words written in blood, thick and hot.
“—yes, I got that, I’m just not really sure what I’m supposed to—”
MEAT and the word throbbed, tore.
“Would chicken be okay?”
UNACCEPTABLE it said in broken bone and jellied marrow.
“I don’t want to stereotype you by assuming you want to eat my roommate—”
YES GIVE ME HIS HEART it said, pulsing, torn flesh.
The glowing eyes moved from the shadows, grew larger, taller. Hellfire, if fire could cast dark instead of light, orange and red, fire and blood. The indistinct shape that might have been a cat became an indistinct shape that might have been a man, large, always large. Jon shrank back as it stretched to fill the room, tried not to look directly at it. Hot breath and sharp teeth against his skin, even though it couldn’t have been, because he was still wearing his jacket.
There was a chiming sound.
WHAT WAS THAT
“Uh.” Jon swallowed, hard. “Dinner?”
“Yes,” Jon said, “but I don’t know if you can eat people food…”
Garfield sat in the middle of the floor, wide as it was tall. Its gaze was baleful.
“Right. You can eat whatever you want.” Slowly Jon inched around the cat to head toward the kitchen. “I don’t really know what it is, though. It might be… vegan.”
Garfield hissed, the sound of pain, and Jon fled toward the oven.
I SMELL MEAT
Jon stopped himself from telling the cat get off the counter. “I think it’s a casserole,” he said, removing the dish to set it on the stove. He gingerly removed the lid, his hands safely wrapped in oven mitts. “Oh. It’s lasagna.”
GIVE IT TO ME
“It has to cool,” Jon said. Garfield hissed again, and the sound turned Jon’s blood to fiberglass. He backed away, and the cat leapt bodily and entirely into the baked pasta. It did not seem bothered by the fact that the pasta sauce was still bubbling, and Jon tried not to look at the void of its mouth. A black hole rimmed with fangs, an absence of all light, drawing in all that it touched to disappear within.
WHAT IS THIS it asked, and a hellfire paw batted at a stretchy piece of mozzarella.
The cat-shaped thing nodded, still sitting in the dish of lasagna.
WE DO NOT HAVE THIS
“You don’t have cheese in hell?”
It nodded again.
“I guess that’s what makes it hell.” If Garfield appreciated this observation, it did not show it. It cracked open its maw again, more lasagna disappearing, and Jon looked away. “That lasagna was supposed to feed us for a week,” he sighed. “How much longer do I need to do this?” he asked.
UNTIL YOU ARE SATISFIED
“Until I’m satisfied?”
YOU MUST FEED ME TO SATISFY YOUR HUNGER
Realization dawned. “Wait, but — I thought this was a one-time thing.”
IT WAS NOT
“If you leave, I get fired?”
“So I might still be able to make it on my own.”
DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR SKILL IS ENOUGH TO BRING YOU ALL THAT YOU DESIRE
Jon thought of the portfolio sitting in his room, and sagged. “… no.”
It grew, limbs stretching, claws turning to fingers and then claws again. It sat on the counter like a solid mirage, licking red from its hands.
YOU WILL HAVE RICHES BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS it said in truffle oil and fur and gold. SO LONG AS I AM FED YOU WILL NEVER KNOW HUNGER
Syndication and merchandising deals and maybe someday a cartoon on television. His signature in every newspaper in every house in the country. In the world, even. He raked his fingers through his curls and tried not to look at its claws.
“I guess I’m stuck with you, then,” Jon said.
It didn’t slide off the counter the way a man would, shifted off like drifting smoke or licking flames, stood and was no shorter. Tall and broad and solid, a weight to its presence as it moved closer. Jon shrank back again as it loomed, and this show of submission seemed to please it. Hot breath and sharp teeth against his skin again, and he shivered.
Taylor Swift at Nos. 1 & 4 on Billboard Hot 100, as Cardi B Moves Up to No. 2
By: Gary Trust for Billboard Date: September 11th 2017
Swift reigns for a second week with “Look What You Made Me Do” & debuts with “…Ready for It?” Plus, as Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow” rises 3-2, solo women control the top two for the first time in almost three years.
Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do” spends a second week at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart (dated Sept. 23). Swift also debuts at No. 4 on the Hot 100 with “…Ready for It?,” with both songs previewing her new album Reputation, due Nov. 10.
Meanwhile, Cardi B bumps 3-2 with “Bodak Yellow (Money Moves),” marking the first time in nearly three years that solo women (in lead roles) rank at Nos. 1 and 2 simultaneously on the Hot 100.
Also notably, Charlie Puth’s “Attention,” at No. 7 on the Hot 100, takes over as the most-heard song on U.S. radio, as it crowns the Radio Songs chart.
As we do every Monday, let’s run down the top 10 of the Hot 100, which blends all-genre streaming, airplay and sales data. All charts will update on Billboard.com tomorrow (Sept. 12).
He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.
If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.
Everything changes when Derek goes under while surfing, hits his head on a board, and sees a man with a tail swimming away. He wants to know who that was, and what it has to do with Beacon Hills, the one place he never meant to come back to.