wardrobe failure


Comparing the 2004 Christine wardrobe, as worn by Emmy Rossum (right), to the contemporary 2004 costumes worn by Janine Kitzen in Stuttgart (left)

Midterms to Full Bellies - Part 4!

Chad had barely gotten to the end of his driveway and he was already breathing hard. This was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

His last trip to the doctor had come with an ultimatum: start exercising or start funeral planning. It wasn’t much of a choice. Aiden was supportive, as he always was, and made him an exercise plan to stick to throughout the week. It didn’t seem particularly imaginative - just jog around the block and do a few jumping jacks. How hard could it be?

Excruciating, as it turned out. He hadn’t realized just how heavy he’d gotten. Or how hot it was outside of an air-conditioned home. Or how his legs protested with every waddling step. Or how his every crevice and fold rubbed his skin raw. Or how he’d barely gone a dozen steps and could already feel sweat dripping down his face and back. This was turning out to be a nightmare.

Still, he pushed himself. He could do this, he kept telling himself. Just get around the block. Doesn’t matter how fast - just do it. He kept up this internal mantra as he made each plodding step, practically breaking the sidewalk’s concrete with each footfall. His belly had already fallen out of his shirt, but Chad didn’t care. He was singularly focused on one goal, and minor wardrobe malfunctions were not included in that goal. Besides, he’d sort of gotten used to spilling out of anything he put himself into.

Each step was more like a sway, as Chad would first need to push his own bulk to one side of his body in order to bring his leg forward, and then do the same with the opposite leg on the next step. His arms had long since been held out at an angle by the rolls of flesh that cascaded down his back, so they too swung from side to side. The entire effect was almost comical.

Every time Chad came up to someone on the sidewalk they moved out of his way. Some stared from the grass, open-mouthed at the elephantine man vainly plodding along. Others merely kept on, not trying to make a scene but diverting from their path to avoid the man-meteor slowly barreling toward them.

By the time he’d reached the end of the street he was drenched in sweat. His clothes were sticking to whatever roll they caught on, completely transparent with perspiration. This was a problem for his massive moobs, as Chad’s nipples kept rubbing on the fabric as he moved. As he turned the corner to begin down the next street, he noticed it wasn’t just his tits - everything was rubbing against the fabric now, the cotton stuck to him like a second skin. He might as well have been naked.

Halfway down the next road and he realized he almost was. His track pants had run down his ass so far he was mooning half the neighborhood. His shirt had ridden up his belly enough to expose his cavernous and quivering belly button. He was finally forced to stop lest he be arrested.

At least, that’s what he told himself. It certainly wasn’t because he was breathing harder than a freight train, and his heart beat so fast he felt it might burst from his chest.

About 30 seconds of gaping breaths Chad once again began his jog. Slower this time - more like a strong march than a jog. But he was past the halfway point now, with the fastest route home being to just keep going.

So he did. More swaying, wobbling steps, more rubbing of fabric, more escape of rolls and crescents of flesh. He stopped twice more to avoid catastrophic wardrobe failures, each time struggling to merely reach his clothing over his own colossal size.

After hauling up his pants the second time he finally reached his street. A mere 200 feet separated him from the end of this torture. All he had to do was make it.

He took another another few steps, swaying even more than normal, when he noticed a pair of men ahead of him. They were his old gym mates. He stopped, unsure what to do, and then realized there was no possible way he could hide. Even if he could move fast enough, there were simply no objects in sight that would obscure his girth. Hiding behind a nearby tree would be like trying to hide behind a popsicle stick.

The only option was to keep going. So he did, lumbering as fast as he could. The pair did eventually see him, and he could tell they were snickering at his weight, but there were no sudden gasps of recognition, no wide-eyed stares of realization. To them, he was simply another fat man to ridicule. They didn’t recognize Chad at all.

Anonymity suddenly gave Chad strength. He pushed on, forcing the two gym rats aside lest they be trampled under the slow-moving stampede. He could here chuckles from behind him, which eventually broke into all-out laughter, but to Chad their scorn was aimed at a random stranger and not a former comrade in fitness. Perversely, it seemed to lighten the blow.

As Chad continued, the gym bunnies laughter faded into the distance. He could see his house coming up, slowly. He realized he’d slowed again, now more of an exhausted shuffle. His body no longer swayed wildly to and fro, but jostled and waved as he stumbled to his driveway. There was practically a trail of sweat that traced his path looking like someone had punched a hole in a water bottle.

He made it to his door and instead of opening it leaned against it. He breathed in great, wracking heaves, arms held above his head, for several minutes. When he finally felt ready, he opened the door, and stepped inside.

Salvation. Air conditioning. The most gloriously cool breeze wafted through his soaked body, chilling him almost immediately. His nipples, already rubbed raw from his jog, now perked up to be finger-sized missiles that pointed in opposite directions. His belly and ass, once again exposed as his clothes fought a losing battle at containment, felt the coolest as they dripped sweat onto the floor, a small puddle already forming.

He stood there for a moment before he tried to take off his shirt, and failed utterly. He felt too weak from the job, and besides, his shirt clung to him as though glued on.

Lucky for him, Aiden then came from upstairs to see what was the commotion.

“You made it,” he said, proudly.

Chad nodded and then lifted his arms as high as he could, which wasn’t even above his shoulders. “Help,” he said.

Aiden took pity on his mammoth lover and came down to begin the arduous process of peeling off Chad’s soaked t-shirt. As he lifted it over his jutting front each fold wobbled to freedom, followed by his colossal mammaries, and finally up and over his head. Chad sighed at the sudden rush of comfort.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch so I can get your shoes off.”

The last few steps to his deeply creased couch were only made bearable by the promise of impending freedom from the last of his garments. He sat down slightly faster than he would normally as his legs finally gave out, an ominous creak from the couch protesting the sudden weight atop it. Then Aiden set about removing Chad’s shoes, then socks, then pants, leaving him in his skin-tight briefs and taking up most of the couch.

As his sweat soaked into the couch Chad just lay there, tongue lolling out, enjoying the comforts of home more than he ever had. When he opened his eyes, Aiden was standing there, a strange smile on his lips and an obvious tent in his shorts.

“What?” Chad asked.

Aiden replied simply, “You look hot.”

Chad waived a still dripping hand. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“It sure is,” Aiden replied, stepping into his massive lover so his shorts-covered hardon ground into Chad’s mountainous belly. He bent down, one hand balancing himself on Chad’s tit, and the two shared a kiss that lingered until it became a full-on makeout session in the living room, Aiden’s hand roaming over Chad’s vast acreage to pinch and caress every soaked fold. He always knew just where to reach to entice Chad, no matter how exhausted, and he could already feel himself hardening in his fat covered groin.

Of course, topping for Chad had long-since fallen by the wayside; his erection remained buried even at full mast. While Aiden enjoyed spelunking (as he called it) from time to time, they had since switched roles in the relationship out of necessity.

At some point in their makeout, Chad rolled off the couch to lay on his belly on the floor, his middle providing more than enough cushion to maintain his comfort indefinitely while also pushing his enormous rear into the air. Aiden then stripped him of his sweaty underpants, leaving him nude and wiggling enticingly.

Aiden wasted no time. He clambered atop his titanic boyfriend, slipping his hardon between cheeks wider than his entire body, Chad’s sweat being more than enough lubrication. He slipped inside easily, Chad moaning beneath him at the brief penetration. When Aiden had reached as far as he could go he held himself there, arms wrapped around Chad’s clammy skin, and then began to gyrate.

Chad had never been a bottom, but found his new role to be even more exciting that before. The feeling of his tiny boyfriend teasing his hole for the rough fucking that was to come had already gotten him leaking. If he wasn’t already so wet from his brief jog he was sure he’d be soaked. As it was, it merely mingled with the sweat already present, further lubricating his folds in preparation for the main event.

Then Aiden pulled himself out and shoved himself back in, the impact sending waves throughout Chad’s body and punctuated by a dull slap. As the wave washed over him Chad moaned. Then Aiden did it again, and again, building up speed until their living room was a constant slapping staccato of his pelvis to Chad’s ass.

Chad writhed and moaned, each impact sending tremors throughout his form, and causing the flesh of his now well-lubricated groin to shimmy ever so slightly against his own cock. His body was like a giant vibrator, and the faster and more roughly he was fucked the better it felt. He was so massive that no matter how hard Aiden worked it only made him beg for more.

Soon, Aiden too was covered in sweat, dripping from his face to pool on Chad’s back before sliding to the floor. Chad’s moan was nearly constant, going up in pitch with each of Aiden’s thrusts. He was getting close, and began to thrust back into Aiden as much as his weight would allow. It was enough to get Aiden just a tiny bit further to finally reach the spot he needed to.

Chad’s moaning reached a fevered pitch as Aiden humped away wildly. Chad’s world had become a constant earthquake of pleasure he couldn’t keep track of. He moaned, and moaned, and eventually he could feel the dam break as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over him, each one building upon the last higher and higher, until they all came crashing down, threatening to drown him.

He came, long and hard, soaking himself and the floor beneath him, but he hardly noticed. All he knew was blinding bliss and constant motion even as he lay there, no longer moving a muscle.

Aiden had cum already, but kept pounding away for some time after to ensure his boyfriend had also cum. He needn’t have bothered, but he had no way of telling anymore how long Chad’s orgasm lasted once his moans had stopped. When it finally felt like he was humping a dead whale he extricated himself, and went to get another towel.

When he returned, Chad had rolled onto his side. He looked up at Aiden and asked, “Is it time for lunch yet?”