Competition | Part I (Patreon)

Author’s Note: I’ve had this story on my mind for a while, and even started writing pieces of it last October. I have about 12 stories I’ve started in some capacity, but they never win the polls. I’m glad this one won an entire year later because I could connect it to another story I wrote recently and keep them in the same universe. I’ve split them into two parts due to the length. This is 14 pages, and I feel like I’m only halfway through. 

Competition

Chance didn’t get first place. Again. Second place isn’t bad. Chance beat everyone else, but second place isn’t good enough for him. He’ll have to train harder, eat more, and push himself to the limits if he wants to beat Lamar Hamlet at the next competitive eating event. Chance waddles his 457-pound body off stage in defeat, his shirt riding up with every step forward. The feeling of another failure leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. For now, he wants to sulk and consume something to settle his bloated stomach.

“Mr. Barnes?” an older, balding man in a black dress shirt asks him.

“RUUUUP-“ erupts from Chance's mouth in response. “I don’t do autographs or interviews,” Chance dismisses the man, still frustrated at his loss. 

“Sir, it’s not about that. My name is Rupert West. I’ve been sent to summon you so that you may claim your inheritance.”

“My what?” Chance asks with a confused gasp. He turns around to see the man speaking to him. 

“I regret to inform you that your uncle Cillas Barnes passed away. You’re the only relative named in Mr. Barne’s last Will and Testament. Mr. Hunter Cook from Barnes Manor summons you for your inheritance.”

“Are you sure you have the right person?” Chance asks, still in a food haze from the competition. “I don’t have an uncle named Cillas Barnes.”

“I’m sorry, but was your father Christopher Barnes?” Rupert inquires.

“Christopher Barnes was my father, but he passed away a few years ago. He never mentioned having a brother. I’ve never even met a man named Cillas before,” Chance explains.

“Your father indeed had a brother. Cillas was a former competitive eater a well back in his day. It makes sense that you’re the inheritor of his possessions. It is my understanding Cillas became estranged from the family due to his weight problem and, erm, his sexuality. This is only what Mr. Cook told me. It’s none of my business. However, we have a limousine to take you to Barnes Manor.” 

Chance’s mind spins at Rupert’s words. Did he really have an uncle he never met? Does he actually have an inheritance waiting for him if he trusts this stranger? The mind fog is too great, either from the unexpected news or the food coma he’s fighting from the competition. “Take me to the limo,” Chance decides to investigate.

The ride takes an entire hour. Chance naps off his fullness in the comfortable back seat but wakes up in time to witness his arrival. Chance can hardly believe his eyes as the limo creeps its way through golden gates and up to Barnes Manor. The mansion is the biggest house Chance has ever seen outside of the Internet. Chance lives in a studio apartment, far from the luxurious dwelling before him. Chance struggles to heave his fat body out of the low car, but once he’s standing in the circular driveway, he takes in the full magnitude of the estate. The mansion towers over him with cream brick surrounded by trimmed hedges. He surveys the land to notice fields of green grass, a rose garden, a hedge maze, and a marble fountain with a corpulent angel. 

“Right this way, Mr. Barnes,” Rupert commands Chance. He walks toward the black door. Moments later, a handsome man in his late 40’s opens the door, which makes Chance swoon. The man is average height with fair skin, auburn hair, and brown eyes. What gets Chance’s attention is the man’s body in a tank top and tight gym shorts. His body looks fit and healthy juxtaposed against the wall of mass named Chance. His clothes accentuate his beefy arms, hard pecs, tight ass, and perfectly sculpted butt. 

“Hello, Mr. Barnes. My name is Hunter Cook. I’ve been expecting you, but not quite so soon. I think I lost track of time at the gym. Please excuse how I look,” the handsome man introduces himself. 

“You can call me Chance,” he says shyly with a blush, pulling his hands out of his sweat pants pockets to shake Hunter’s hand. 

“I’m sorry about your uncle Cillas. I mean, he and I were very close, but I’m sure it is hard to lose your uncle. It’s hard for me to lose my partner,” Hunter offers his condolences. 

Chance doesn’t know what to say, so he decided on honesty. “I never knew my uncle, nor did I know he had a partner. I’m sorry to hear about your loss as well. That must be hard.”

“Oh, Chance, it is hard without him. You would’ve loved your uncle. Cillas told me he only met you once when you were a baby, but your father didn’t like him coming around,” Hunter tells Chance. 

Chance stays quiet for a moment. “Right, so, I’m here because he apparently left me an inheritance.” His statement sounds more like a question.

“Cillas didn’t have children. I’m really the only person he had, but he wanted to meet you, Chance. Cillas appreciated you from the eating competitions he watched of you on television. Cillas wanted to meet you, but he was afraid you’d not feel the same, so he admired you from afar.”

Chance glances around the foyer as Hunter speaks. The black and white checkered floor sparkles, the glass chandelier reflects, and the staircases climb toward the ceiling, yet appear unused. Chance looks back at Hunter. “Cillas was incredibly excited to have a nephew in the competitive eating game. He wanted to make sure you never had to worry about money or where your next meal would come from or rent. Cillas left you this home to give you more financial stability and to focus on your fame as an up and coming competitive eater.”

Chance’s eyes grow big. “He left me what?” he asks in shock. 

“It’s not much. It’s just the house. Many staff members are retiring, such as Rupert, but your uncle wanted you to have his home. I will give you a brief tour. Then, if you wish to live here, you’ll sign a contract and a deed to transfer the property into your name. Shall we begin?”

Chance nods, still confused, but also excited about never returning to his shitty studio apartment. “I want to tell you more details about your uncle Cillas over dinner. I’m cooking more than enough, and I’d love to hear more about you since you’ll be taking over this estate,” Hunter offers as he leads Chance into the living room. Chance never turns down free food, even when he’s still bloated from his competitions and training.

The living room is packed with comfortable chairs, expensive tables, a grand piano, and an enormous flat-screen television. On both sides of the room, there is a door. “The house is broken into two wings with three floors, not including the attic or basement. The left side of this floor admits you into the kitchen and utility side of the house with a pantry and dining room. The right side is the living room and other entertainment rooms.”

Hunter starts the tour with the first floor of the east wing. He takes Chance through the home theater and home office area, which are straight forward. Chance’s first question comes with the master bedroom. “Behind this door is the master bedroom. This room used to be the library, but we moved it to the second floor because it was easier for Cillas to spend his time on the first floor. I assume it will also be your bedroom because it’s closer to all the things you may need. Mobility became a challenge to Cillas toward the end so that he couldn’t go up and down the grand staircase,” Hunter informs Chance.

“Old age?” asks Chance.

“Not exactly,” Hunter grins and opens the door. Chance walks in to see a beautiful and spacious bedroom. An enormous flat-screen television hangs on the royal red wall, an electric fireplace in the corner, and a mini-fridge beside the California King bed all catch Chance’s eye. Then, Chance notices a portrait in a gold frame above the mattress of a shirtless man. While it only depicts the face and shoulders, he can tell the man is obese. 

Hunter catches Chance staring at the portrait. “Is something wrong?”

“Is that me?” Chance asks with uncertainty, squinting his eyes while examining the portrait.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. That is your uncle Cillas when he was about your age and weight. He commissioned the portrait after defeating his rival in an eating competition.” Chance marveled at how much he looks like his uncle.

“So Rupert was right? Uncle Cillas also participated in competitive eating?”

“He sure did. Competitive eating was his hobby. Cillas loved eating so much it became all he did, and it made him terribly fat. That was one of the reasons your father didn’t like Cillas. Christopher was afraid Cillas’ eating habits would rub off on you. Cillas told me obesity runs in your family’s genetics. Your father tried hard to keep himself and his family fit and healthy. Cillas embraced his size and used it to his advantage. He was a big handsome man with confidence in his body.”

“My uncle was just like me,” whispers Chance. 

“What did you say?” Hunter asks for clarification.

“I feel like Uncle Cillas, and I was the same person. I didn’t even know him, but I managed to defy all odds and unknowingly followed in his footsteps from eating for attention to dating men to looking similar physically.”

“Follow me,” Hunter leads Chance to another room. “Your uncle was the best in the county back in his day. I’m surprised you didn’t know about any of this. This room was his trophy room. He won all kinds of awards for stuffing himself silly publicly.” Chance is empresses with all of the awards. Cillas lived Chance’s dream.

Inheriting Barnes Manor feels like fate to Chance. “I want to be like uncle Cillas. He had everything I wanted. I want to live here, I want to know more about him, and I want to honor him. I will live here and live my best life as he did.”

“I’m excited to hear that, but don’t you want to see the rest of the house before making a decision?”

“Let’s finish up with the first floor, but if I’m honest, I probably won’t go up and down the steps. This is more than enough for me on this floor. Besides, have you seen the size of me?” Chance grabs his belly fat. “I’m too big to go up and down steps comfortably, and for what? Spare bedrooms I won’t use? I have a gut feeling this is where I need to be.”

“Very well. There’s one thing remaining I need to show you before I can let you have this house.” Chance follows Hunter. His feet hurt, and sweat beads on his forehead from walking down the hall. One floor of one wing exhausted him. Chance made the right move by refusing to go upstairs; Chance’s body probably wouldn’t take the strain of going up and down the steps and walking the wings. 

The pair make it back to the beginning of the hall. Hunter stops at the first door on the left side of the hall. Hunter somehow looks more focused, more serious than before. “Chance, all of this can be yours if you sign the deed. However, your late uncle promised me one thing that he put in his will that I need to tell you about; I want to make everything clear.”

Chance looks at Hunter with concern. “What’s that?”

“Cillas promised I could turn the basement into an apartment and continue to live here after his death. I believe you should sign the deed. However, if you do, I have the right to continue to live here. I promise I won’t get in your way unless you want me around for company. The house is big enough to give us privacy when we need it.

“Absolutely. I would never think about kicking someone out of the home of their partner, even if I didn’t know him, and this house is huge. There’s more than enough room here for me. I wouldn’t know what to do with all the extra space,” Chance generously accepts Hunter’s offer. After all, Chance has nothing to lose. Moving from a studio to a mansion is quite the offer, one Chance can’t refuse. 

“I’m grateful for your decision. There is one last thing. A set of stairs behind me leads to the basement. It’s my workshop, safe haven, and now living space. I ask you to give me complete privacy down there. The basement is my home now, so please don’t invite yourself down. Promise me you’ll let me have my privacy.”

Chance wonders why Hunter chose the basement as opposed to one of the rooms upstairs. It’s almost as if Hunter reads his mind. “I chose the basement because it’s easier to manage my crafts. Something I didn’t mention about the portrait in Cillas’ old room is that I am the artist. That’s how I met him: Cillas commissioned a painting, and while I spent time with him getting every detail correct, we fell in love. I tend to get messy, so the basement is the perfect place out of view. Also, it’s attached to the garage. Sometimes when I run out of space for my art, I sell it all at once. You may see a white truck coming to take my art to a customer or another vendor.”

“Your art is perfect! This is the only time I’ve ever seen a picture of Cillas. It was so realistic,” Chance tells Hunter. 

“We will keep it in the bedroom then. I also dabble in photography, sculpture, and graphic design. Cillas encouraged me to start film too. I know I don’t look like your typical starving artist, but I discovered art is my passion.”

“I think it would be terrible for you to move out or quit what you do. I promise you can keep the basement and practice your passion without interruption,” Chance decides. 

“Wonderful! Thank you! Now, I believe I heard your stomach growl earlier.” Chance thought Hunter wouldn’t notice. “Let’s sign the paperwork and celebrate with dinner.”

“I think I’m going to love it here,” Chance says excitedly.

“I think you will too,” Hunter says, leading Chance through the living room and down the hall to the dining room. Chance walks in to find a long table already filled with food. His stomach gurgles at the sight and smells coming from the buffet. “Please, sit down.”

“There’s a lot of food!” Chance takes a seat at the end of the table.

“I love cooking, and I’m used to making huge amounts of food. I used to cook and bake for your uncle, and he could pack it away. I’ve also occasionally catered parties. I’m not sure how it tastes, but most people who try my cooking are impressed. I think it’s because I’m not afraid to use oils and fats in my cooking. You’ll have to let me know how everything tastes,” Hunter says, filling up a plate with burgers, fries, fried chicken, two dinner rolls, and a heaping helping of lasagna. He sits the plate in front of Chance.

“You didn’t have to make a plate for me,” Chance apologizes and thanks, Hunter.

“It’s a habit—besides, your Cillas’ nephew. I’m happy to serve you. Now dig in.”

Chance cuts off a piece of lasagna with his fork as Hunter makes himself a salad. “Oh my god,” he moans, chewing the combination of meat, cheese, and buttery noodles.

“Is that good or bad?” Hunter smiles, already knowing the answer.

“This is so fucking good,” Chance mumbles, pushing half a roll into his mouth.

“Thank you. Your uncle inspired me to learn how to cook. Cooking is just another form of art to me.”

“Can you tell me a little bit about my uncle? As I said, I never knew him,” Chance explains while shoving the rest of the warm, buttery roll in his mouth.

“What do you want to know? I’m assuming you’re more or less interested in his competitive eating.”

“Yes, sir,” Chance starts to double fist cheeseburgers.

“I know I keep saying this, but your uncle loved to eat. After we met, he focused all his time trying to get fatter to stretch his stomach capacity. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he continued to train. I once asked him if he was worried about the consequences, and he told me he’d rather do what he was doing than live for a long time. It didn’t bother me one bit. I cooked for him and helped him around as he got bigger, and as you can imagine, he won a lot of competitions. We got him up to 20,000 calories a day, and his record became 70 hot dogs in 10 minutes. It was insane!”

“I believe it,” Chance said, refilling his plate with more food. “I have the same attitude. I may clog a few arteries, but I have few regrets.”

“He also loved his body, and as I said, he generally felt positive about it. I’ll admit I loved his body too. As they say, more cushion for the pushin’.” Hunter becomes serious again. “It almost made the inevitable heart attack worthwhile.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up his death again,” Chance’s voice shakes with embarrassment. 

“Nonsense. Cillas is the reason I had a good life. Even in death, he brought me a new friend with an appetite big enough to fully enjoy my cooking. Now, tell me about your competitive eating. I’ve seen you on a few local news channels, and you seem to know how to handle yourself out there,” Hunter changes subjects. 

Chance wants to ask Hunter about Cillas’ weight, remembering the size of the bed. He holds his tongue and decided to move on with Hunter’s request. “I finished high school after a tough time. I didn’t go to college because I wasn’t good at academics. I thought about how I was bullied for being fat and gay. Then, I realized I could turn these things I was bullied for into empowering moments. Everyone makes fun of fat people, but if you can use being fat to scarf down a dozen pies or an entire pot of hot dogs for prizes, people respect you a little. They no longer see you as a fat slob; they see you as an athlete. I got good at eating fast, and now I’ve made it a career. The prize money isn’t much, but I can’t stand too long to do normal work anymore.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure things will be better now that you won’t have to worry about bills or rent. You can focus on your eating. Speaking of your eating, I kind of expected more from a competitive eater! Don’t tell me you’re done already,” Hunter teases him.

“I’m not done, I just need to take a second to catch my breath and let my stomach settle. Besides competitive eating and dining in front of a stranger are two completely different situations.”

“Hey, now, I’m not a stranger anymore.”

“I guess that’s true, but I still need just a second.”

“Do you like being fat?” Hunter asks bluntly. Chance blushes at the unexpected question. “I like the feeling of being full, and I like the rush I get from binging, especially in a competition or when I’m getting attention for it. I think my body is sexy the way it is, but I’m not intentionally gaining per se. I’ll do whatever it takes to win and be adored, even if that means putting on a little more weight. Being this big has challenges, so I’m not sure how much more weight I can put on before it becomes a problem,” Chance admits. 

“What kind of challenges? A problem?” Hunter presses for more information, getting up from his chair. He opens unmarked containers and pours substances together into one enormous cup.

“You know, shopping for clothes or groceries, taunting from others, and walking long distances. I mean, I’m not trying to eat myself into immobility or until I have health issues. Relationships are hard when you’re obese. I’d like to find someone who loves my body as much as I love eating. The typical fat people stuff,” Chance tries to elaborate. 

“What if you didn’t have to do anything like that ever again, or at least not by yourself? How far would you go to win?” Hunter pours a cream-like substance into the cup and mixes it with a spoon.

“As I said, I’ll do whatever it takes to win, especially against Hamlet finally. I mean, I guess I’d let myself balloon.”

“Here, try this shake and let me know what you think,” Hunter hands the cup to Chance.

“What’s in it?” Chance asks.

“Drink it,” Hunter commands. 

Chance puts the glass up to his lips and sips the elixir. “Sweet and salty. Just like a salted caramel blended with chocolate. It’s kind of thick, but it’s not bad.”

“I’m glad you like it. I helped your uncle put on weight and increased his appetite tremendously. It allowed him to win many more competitions, and now I want to help you win. This is my secret recipe. I have an investor interested in purchasing this recipe, and I know it works. You’re going to win the next competition you enter. That’s a promise, but only if you finish these shakes daily.”

Chance looks at Hunter with suspicion before a haze fills his brain. He decides to drink more of Hunter's slurry. He breathes rapidly, swallowing big gulps. Chance feels weird; a wave of euphoria and hunger builds inside him. 

"You like it, don't you?" Hunter grins seductively at the fat man. Chance looks Hunter in the eyes to see lust staring back at him. 

“I feel weird. I’m...I’m so...so hungry,” Chance manages to say, turning red. 

“That’s the side effect. It’ll wear off in half an hour, but you told me you love feeling full, and you want to succeed in your goals. This starts your training,” Hunter smiles seductively. Chance continues to blush. 

“I’m here to help you. Just give it a try. I promise you’ll love it, and if you don’t, we never have to use it again. I have a feeling you’re enjoying this. I know you’ve been looking at me ever since you got here,” Hunter flexes. 

“I didn’t mean,” Chance sighs. “I didn’t mean to be awkward or anything. You’re very handsome and,” Chance tries to finish his sentence, but Hunter pushes a dinner roll into Chance’s mouth like a roasted pig with an apple. 

“Having a big appetite is what I like in a man. I love to watch you eat,” Hunter says with a hint of flirtatiousness. Chance chews on the roll. “I want to feed you,” he breathes heavily on Chance’s neck. 

Chance wasn’t sure if it was the fattening mixture’s side effect or if he wanted Hunter from the first moment he met him. Nonetheless, Chance’s erection grows. “Am I really not too fat for you?” 

“The real question is if you’ll ever be fat enough for me,” Hunter pants while kissing Chance’s neck.

“Fuuuuuck,” Chance moans. 

“You’re just like Cillas. Except he ended up over 800 pounds,” Hunter moans.

Chance’s heart pounds out of his chest, and his stomach twists in knots. The number scares him, a number the human body should never reach, but something was comforting in the fact Hunter supported him no matter how big he became. He also acknowledges that it highlights the possibility of him out eating his rival and always feeling full. “I said I want to feed you,” Hunter says more forcefully as Chance’s stomach growls. Chance only nods with hunger. 

Hunter takes off Chance’s shirt and practically rips his pants off before he pushes a burger up to Chance’s lips. Chance instinctively takes a bigger bite than he can manage and chews. “If you’re a good boy, then I’ll give you what you deserve and everything you could ever desire living here,” Hunter growls and digs around for Chance’s member in his fat pad. 

Hunter feeds Chance greasy burger after burger and handfuls of salty fries. He taps on Chance’s gut, causing him to moan and his cock to throb. “Let’s take care of this little problem. Just keep eating,” Hunter whispers. He slithers down to Chance’s belly covered in dark red and purple stretch marks. “Don’t you love to lose control and eat for me?” Hunter teases before kissing Chance’s flabby belly. 

Then, Hunter reaches under his belly and grabs his member. Hunter strokes  Chance’s shrinking cock causing Chance to shake and eat more. Eventually, Chance lets out an awkward snort. “You sound like a pig,” Hunter grunts. He continues stroking him with one hand and jiggle’s Chance’s belly with his other. “You’re going to beat Hamlet easily after I’m through with you.”

Chance struggles to breathe from the exertion of being touched and finally feeling full. 

It starts to get harder to swallow, but Chance continues to force fried chicken into his mouth, shredding the meat from the bone. He feels the need to please Hunter even after the effects of his drink starts to wear off.  Now he’s eating because he wants more. His chewing gets slower until he finally burps. “Oh, God. I-I’m going to explode!”

“Probably in more ways than one,” Hunter says mischievously. He reaches up to twist one of Chance’s nipples. Chance’s sweaty and flushed face communicates to Hunter there’s no time left. He grips harder. Chance tries to moan but releases a series of burps instead as his surging dick oozes cum into his enormous belly.