Bob & Oscar's Perfect Evening - Chapter 4 (Patreon)

If it wouldn’t be for the generous tip Oscar and Bob gave on the Belly Popper meal, the delivery man would never have come back a third time. But the Uber Eats man was pushed by morbid curiosity. “Did they really manage to eat the entire mountain of food I brought to them less than 2 hours ago?”, he thought. He opened the door and listened. He could hear heavy respiration, farts, and belches.

He closed his eyes and turned the corner, not able to open them, too afraid of what he’ll see. When Bob then let out a “Hey”, in the deepest voice he had ever heard, it made the delivery man jump in surprise and open his eyes. When he finally saw how huge the bears had become, he screamed a long “WOAH!!” of terror and incredulity. “My whole car would fit into each one of those bellies!”, he thought. “And here I am, bringing them the biggest delivery of the day…Will they ever stop?!?!”

This time, we didn’t even have to overplay it to mess with the poor guy. Admittedly, we were both scarily big, butt naked, and barely able to move. Anybody who saw us at that size would have been traumatized. Or filled with lust…

B: “Don’t just stand there, we are STARVING.”

The delivery man quickly lay down a pile of pizza on the ground, the same quantity as the first order. But he went back to his car to fetch the other half, making it double. He also rolled in two barrels.

B: “What are those? Our soda?”

“Yeah”, he replied “The boss thought that this delivery was for a huge party (I can’t blame him…), so instead of filling trays and trays of cups, he now offers those kegs.”

Once more, he stood there in silence, waiting for something to happen.

B: “Don’t just stand there, boy. We’re gonna need your help. We can’t reach the boxes. Take that ladder over there and put the boxes on our bellies. And for the kegs, you’ll have to hook up those tubes with valves we used to drink those barrels of beer earlier”

He was completely in shock, not only because he learned that on top of all that food we also had whole barrels of beer inside us, but because he would have no choice but to come closer and maybe even… touch us.

We were so vast that multiple piles of boxes could balance on each belly shelf. He also plugged the tube and opened the tap. You could hear the air whistling in the tube, stopping at the valves. He didn’t know where to put the tubes to make sure they didn’t fall on the ground, so after a moment of reflection, he embarrassingly lifted my moob up and squeezed the tube under it. He did the same thing for the big muscled bear, except it required more strength to lift one of Oscar’s pec.

B: “Thank you, little man. You can take the cash on the table, and as much as you want as a tip. If we don’t call you again, it’s either because we are finally full, or because we have exploded! *wink*”

The delivery boy gasped and slowly backed down until he reached the front door. Some neighbor told us afterward that he came back during the night to watch us through the window! I guess he couldn’t go to sleep without seeing how we would look at our maximum capacity…

Oscar opened his first box, grabbed a slice of pizza, and cheered in my direction.

O: “To immobility!”

B: “To immobility.”

We started to wolf down the pizza. They had extra-thick crust this time, plus a mountain of toppings: each one was one inch thick, even in the middle. It was heavy and fattening, in other words, exactly what we needed. We dropped the empty boxes on the floor (that’s the only thing we could do in our current swollen state).

Oscar, still drunk on hunger, took several pizzas and stacked them on top of one another, transforming them into a 6 inches-tall cake. The cheese was still hot, so the pizzas were merged together in a calorie-fest that would knock out even the toughest competitive eater. He slowly slides the pile toward his face, careful not to lose it in the crack between his pecs. Once it finally met his mouth, he opened up as wide as he could and pushed the entire thing inside his cheeks, inch by inch, swallowing continuously, to help this monstrosity move deeper and deeper inside him. The top of his belly was visibly swelling, pushing the pile of pizza boxes on it even higher, almost touching the ceiling.

We were the epitome of gluttony in human form, even though "human" was an increasingly inapplicable descriptor.

For my part, a resurgence of deep and aggressive hunger took me by surprise: I began to voraciously devour pizza one by one as if they were common snacks. I was growing visibly, getting dangerously close to my weight record. I remember how full I felt when I was that big during my feeding session with Oscar the summer before, but this time, I felt like I could push it even further. Much further.

One of Oscar’s piles of pizza was gone. He took a moment to survey his body.

O: “Shit, if I stay like this for many days, I won’t be able to shave.”

B: “Ha ha ha! What? You’ve turned into an immobile blimp and you worry about shaving? Who cares if your beard is a bit longer?”

O: “Not my beard, my body hair…”
B: “Really? I didn’t know you were shaving your entire body. Are you really that hairy?
O: “Man, you have no idea. I have to shave every two days or else I become a gorilla.

B: “And why don’t you keep it?

O: “The smell. I tried to keep the fur, but I get so sweaty, you can smell my musk from so far away…

B: “Is that really a bad thing?”

O: “I guess I’ll let the hair grow this week, see what happens.”

The idea of a big man like Oscar covered in hair was indeed a great turn-on. His muscles, accustomed to absorbing as much protein as possible, worked tirelessly to grow under the pressure of this endless meal. He looked more swollen than ever: his muscles shone with the presence of a thin layer of sweat, caused by the effort he had to give to continue eating, by the heat that emanated from his burning muscles, and finally by the extreme sexual arousal he felt.

On my end, it wasn’t a sprint but a marathon. I was eating much slower than him, but I knew that I could last longer. I had reached the size I was after my legendary feast at the restaurant, and on my way to reaching a new record size. Even after my operation, I still retained the ability to blimp up to contain an insane amount of food. I just never allowed myself to eat as much as I’d like, only a handful of times when I let myself go:

At a company meeting, there was a huge buffet, but most people who came had already eaten. When they all went home without eating a bite, I was left alone with food for 30 people. The owner of the reception room saw me eyeing the mountain of the delicious plates all evening and knew by the size of me that I dreamt of swallowing every single plate whole. He took a chance and told me that he was a Grommr member and that he would love to watch me eat. He said to go ahead and eat anything I wanted. And I wanted all of it. He couldn’t believe how fast I was eating and growing; he watched me blimp out until the very last dish was gone. He let me sleep in the reception room all night, anyway, I couldn’t move after that feast.

Then, there was that time when a friend was inaugurating his brand new bar, and giving free samples of his own brew to the visitors. Unfortunately for him, I was the only one liking it. I spent all night drinking. At first, I used his degustation goblets, then whole pints, then pitcher. At the end of the night, my mouth was plugged into the tap. I drank and drank… I was inflating like a beer balloon. He was shocked when he found me unconscious with his entire brew inside me, but was kinda flattered that I loved it so much. It was another story when I almost overflowed the drain in his basement with my morning pee.

Each time I swelled up, I did a short diet and returned to the gym to deflate. My weight became malleable: it was much easier to lose fat now than it was after I first became immobile. I can grow and slim down as much as I want. But you know full well that once you get fat, you can do any diet you want, but it’s only a matter of time before you start to swell up again. You’re not only gonna return to your heaviest weight, but you’re gonna greatly surpass it. That’s inevitable.

As I was saying, each time you reach a new size, it’s hard to resist the temptation to aim for a bigger bloat the next time. So, during that evening with Oscar, I have to admit that I pushed myself way farther than I should have. Waaaaayyyy farther.

Our self-induced force-feeding continued, but despite my legendary gluttony, I started to think that we were getting too big. It was ridiculous. Our bellies, rounder than ever, needed space to grow, but the floor forced them to bulge forwards, the sides, but also upwards. They made us lean back more and more until we were back to back, pushing on each other. The room, which seemed so big when I arrived, was now closing in on us. But it wasn't over. Hunger gave way to thirst. Our final challenge, the final pump: the soda barrel. That’s when it went wrong.

Being back to back and bent over, we could now look each other in the eye. Nothing was as beautiful as Oscar's puffy face, eyes lit up with the fulfillment of his wildest dream.

O: “Ready for the final inflation?”, he said, putting the tip of the hose in his mouth.
B: “Yes but not like that. Let's shove the tube down our throats until it leads directly to our stomachs. This way, we won't even have to swallow the liquid: it will just be pushed inside of us. We will be able to let ourselves be inflated one last time.”

I thought the liquid was just going to flow inside of us with a moderate stream. But I had forgotten that it was highly pressurized soda, in a container that didn't let the slightest bubble escape. Big mistake.

With the valve in hand and the tube several feet inside of us, we were about to blast our size like never before.

We opened our floodgates at the same time, surprised by what awaited us. Instead of soda, the long tube and part of the barrel were filled all the way up with pressurized air. It rushed into us at a dizzying rate. We thought we were going to drink, but instead, it felt like we were connected to a helium canister, blowing us up. We were balloons, inflating rapidly, filling Oscar's apartment a little more every single second. We were both freaking out, wondering if we were going to explode. We were becoming blimps, bigger and bigger. Finally, the air was exhausted and the soda finally began to penetrate us. But it wasn't a total relief. The soda bubbled with air, which made us swell even more.

We hadn't thought about the volume that the barrel contained, since it seemed so small compared to us, but it was an impressive 150 liters that poured at full speed into our huge bodies. We could feel the liquid reacting to the inhuman amount of food we had ingested, being absorbed and swelling everything it touched. We had been overstepping our bounds for a while now, and our bodies were starting to have trouble stretching as much as our stomachs demanded. Instead, the pressure inside us was rising dangerously. But after about 2 minutes, the flow of liquid decreased, until it stopped completely. We had succeeded. Pulling the tube out of our mouths, we were exhausted, panicked, and about to explode. Having better reflexes than Oscar, I immediately expelled a burp of monstrous power. Who knows how many liters of air I managed to evacuate! It allowed me to deflate slightly, just enough to make sure I wasn't going to explode.

Meanwhile, Oscar used to manage his fullness as much as me, so when he snapped out of his hunger craze, he panicked. Without the adrenaline and the dopamine flooding his brain (and the slight fuzziness caused by the barrel of beer from earlier), the feeling of fullness hit him like a truck.

O: “Oh god… I’m so fucking full… Awwww….”

B: “Hey man, are you ok?”

O: “So… much…pressure…”

He was visibly struggling, in pain, and rubbing what he could reach of his belly in large circles, trying to calm it like an untamed beast. But the pain didn’t dissipate, on the contrary. Loud creaking sounds could be heard, and this time, it wasn’t his leather pants, it was his belly. He couldn’t burp: his throat was seemingly completely shut from the pressure, and the soda was still bubbling up inside him.

O: “Oh shit… This is it… I ate too much! I’m gonna…I’m… gonna… blow…!”

B: “No no no! Think about the story I told you about the guy at the bar! It’s when he started to regret that things went wrong! Just close your eyes, and relax, I’m gonna guide you through this!”

Oscar closed his eyes but was still grimacing and sweating from the pain. Spasms of growth and contraction were making his entire body shake. I took a calm voice, the type of voice you hear in hypnosis or relaxation videos.

B: “Now put your hands on your belly. Feel how massive you are. You always dreamed of getting bigger, right?”
O: “Yeah… Yes, I did.”

B: “Well, you are now. You’re the biggest man I’ve ever seen. Don’t open your eyes! Caress that belly, try to reach as far as you can with your hands. Can you reach the front of it?”

O: “Not even close.”

B: “That’s because you’ve grown into the mass monster you always dreamed about. You’re immense. You’re an unpoppable balloon.”

O: “Yes. I’m too immense, and I’m gonna blow!”

B: “No! The mountain of food inside you is turning into a monster. You won’t let that monster defeat you, right? Aren’t you strong?”

O: “I’m pretty strong yeah.”

B: “That’s it. Instead of trying to crush that food monster by contracting your body, you’re gonna put him to sleep by drowning it in its weakness. Air. Take a deep breath.”

O: *Inhale* *Exhale*

B: “No, much much bigger than that.”

O: *Inhale for a long time* *Exhale for a long time*
B: “Instead of breathing with your lungs, breathe with your belly. That’s how you’re gonna calm the monster.”

He inhaled for a long time. That time, you could see his belly inflate even bigger than it already was, then deflate a bit while he exhaled.

B: “Longer respiration, you want to drown that thing in the air”

He repeated the process, inflating surprisingly larger every time. He wasn’t agonizing anymore. He was calm and serene, while his body expanded in every direction by relaxing his muscles and reducing the pressure inside him.

B: “That’s it! You can open your eyes. You’ve survived our gigantic meal! How do you feel?”

O: “Oh wow. Look at that belly. Oh, I - “

He realized that he couldn’t move his arms or even turn his head. He was fully immobile. He had reached his ultimate goal. (For now…)

O: “I… can’t… move. At… all!”

B: “That’s it, maximum fullness. You did it, Oscar! You did it!”

***

After 3 days of absolute bliss, we deflated enough to have our feet touch the ground. It took more time for Oscar, as the air had to slowly make its way out as farts, sometimes for several minutes at a time. Meanwhile, I teleworked from his house with his laptop resting on my belly. I faked a webcam problem, not wanting them to see just how much bigger I had blown up.

Oscar called in sick the week after that, hoping to deflate back to a human-like shape. Being the bodybuilder he is, he vowed to help us shrink back to a more manageable size (it’s the only way to make us relive a wonderful evening like this one). His gym buddies were about to meet a fatter and hairier version of him…

For an entire week, we fucked, hugged, rubbed each other, bounce our bellies together to feel their weight… It was paradise.

It was decided: I would be moving in with Oscar. We knew we wouldn’t feed ourselves like this every week, but we would absolutely do it once in a while. We would alternate the role of feeder and feedee, so the one who could still move could please the other for hours.

Oscar was permanently transformed by this experience. Both mentally, and physically. Now an openly gay feeder, gainer, bloater, and muscle gainer. His confidence was boosted. You could feel how serene and happy he has become, in every moment.

Gaining and growing was just too much fun, and now, he wants to share his passion with the entire town. The gym is gonna go through some renovation. What about a feeding room?

The end.

(...of this story, but Oscar and Bob will return!)