A Failed Feeder

4 - Giving In

Things only accelerated after Jake's first meal with Mark. He hadn't dared step onto a scale, but based on how much belly was bulging out of his shirts and filling his lap these days, nearly two semesters living with Mark had done a number on his already-ballooning waistline. Jake claimed he was trying to cut back, but was in the dining hall too often to make any real progress.

At least Mark had been getting bigger, too... even if Jake had taken, at best, the role of an enabler rather than a feeder. They'd fallen into a routine of huge meals, constant snacking, and occasional takeout feasts. When they weren't in class, they were almost certainly eating together.

They'd been up late last night binging on a substantial pizza order. Jake woke up to a loud burp, seeing Mark across the room on his own bed, his rounded belly still clearly stuffed. Mark chugged the last of a 2L bottle of soda with both hands before collapsing back and gently digging his fingers into his dome-like midsection.

Jake watched as Mark struggled briefly to sit up, his once-forming belly rolls melting into the solid double-belly he'd been growing. His belly pooled against his thighs and his sides, faintly touched with stretch marks, spilled over the waistband of his boxers. His chubby hand reached for a leftover slice of pizza, brushing off crumbs that were sprinkled on his rounded face and lodged in his double chin.

"Mo-*URRRP*-rning Jake, hope you don't mind I'm finishing off the pizza," Mark said between bites. Jake lazily rolled from his back onto one side, feeling his belly pooling against both itself and the mattress as he pushed himself into a sitting position. The seams of Jake's pajama pants and t-shirt were struggling to keep up with his gain, he could feel them straining against his body as he sat up.

"Sure, take my leftovers too," Jake said, bending down to grab a pizza box as a *RIIIIP* came from his backside. "Shit," Jake said, feeling cool air against his butt. He feebly felt around, finding a sizable tear through his pants and underwear across his ass.

"Heh, told you that you were getting kinda big to be wearing old clothes all the time," Mark said, smirking. Mark consistently stripped down to his underwear wherever he was in their room, saying clothes were too restricting to his gain. Jake had been determined to not get too fat for his own clothes... But things clearly weren't going as planned.

"Ughhh this is my last good pair of pants," Jake groaned, handing the last box to Mark, then collapsing back on his own bed, rubbing his hand along the swollen arch of his stomach.

"How much do you weigh now?" Mark asked, eagerly downing the last of Jake's slices.

"I... I dunno. I haven't... It's been a while..." Jake trailed off, giving his meaty belly a shake and speculating how many extra pounds he'd piled on. There was a lot of jiggling... stepping onto the scale would mean admitting to himself how much more he'd let himself go. Mark, always angling for lucrative content, was already scheming a plan for their evening...

"C'mon tubby, let's go get some breakfast - Saturday morning donuts make everything better," Mark said, squeezing himself into a t-shirt and sweatpants, every curve of his doughy body visible against the fabric.

"I think donuts are like the last thing..." Jake started, only to be interrupted by his belly emitting a hungry rumble. "...okay, maybe just a couple," He said, swapping his ripped pants for his extra-stretchy shorts. He caught a glimpse of the roll starting to form where his flabby thigh met his knee, but distracted himself by thinking about the donuts in his near future.

The walk to the dining hall wasn't long, but Jake's increasing size was leaving him increasingly winded from even short walks. Every step sent a shockwave of movement across his flabby figure. It was a constant battle to keep his clothes in place so his belly wasn't bulging out, as his folds tried to swallow every loose bit of fabric.