The Condition - Part 2

After that night things progressed pretty quickly in many ways. The following morning Kevin and I continued where we left off the night before and brought ourselves to another set of mutual orgasms before we finally decided we were both pretty ripe and in need of a shower. We showered together even though we barely fit into the stall, and we explored each other's bodies in a different kind of intimacy.

We were really quite similar in terms of volume, only with different specifics. His stretch marks were faint and concentrated on his lower belly, whereas mine we an obvious and angry red all around my sides and lower back. We both had prominent guts, but Kevin’s body seemed to mold into his jutting torso seamlessly, while my anatomy delineated itself with folds and crevices, making it look like I wore my excess weight as a fleshy suit of armor. It also meant that I had bigger tits and love handles than Kevin did, which he never failed to both remind me of and manhandle every chance he got.

At first it was weird. I’d never been particularly OK with my weight, but as the days turned into weeks and Kevin and I became ever more comfortable with our physicality I started to see things differently. Every time he touched a soft bit of belly that had fallen out of my shirt, or he kneaded my fleshy man-tits, or even just poked a finger down my belly button I found the sensation increasingly erotic. I put it down to the fact that nobody had ever touched me that way - mostly because much of that anatomy had only developed recently.

And continued to develop, as I’d find out.

“Hey, it’s starting to get hot out - you got any shorts?” I asked offhandedly. It was well into Spring, just past midterms, and I felt like embracing the season in shorts rather than my usual jeans.

Kevin was still waking up, as is his want, but he groggily rummaged through drawers of clothing until he tossed a pair of shorts over his shoulders. Kevin and I had been wearing each other's clothes for the past several months, and I knew that I wouldn’t have any shorts that fit since I hadn’t bought any new pairs with my last wardrobe update.

I stuck my stocky leg through one hole, and then the other, and then hoisted the fabric above my rear. Then I began the now-familiar ritual of sucking in my gut while I tried to do up the button - only no matter how hard I pulled I couldn’t get the two ends of cloth anywhere near each other. I tried a few more times to no avail before finally exhaling in defeat.

“Uh, these don’t fit dude. You got anything bigger?” I asked, somewhat sheepishly. Kevin just looked at me standing there wearing what only in hindsight seemed like shorts way too small to fit someone of my bulk. Then he looked up and shook his head.

“No, actually - those are my biggest pair,” he said, and then realized why he’d stared at me so long. This was the first time I’d been unable to fit into Kevin’s clothes.

I was bigger than him now.

For all of our relationship, Kevin had always been the lovable fat guy. It was a role he enjoyed and never really had any desire to steal from him. But now I’d surpassed him, and worst of all I had no idea how that was even possible. Sure, we both maybe pigged out a little too much on the weekends, but Kevin always seemed to out eat me wherever we went. How could I possibly have grown larger than him?

I picked up my belly and let it drop, watching the rest of me wobble in response. “I guess I’ll wear jeans then,” I said despairingly, and Kevin simply nodded. It seemed like he was a little shocked at this morning’s revelation as well.

On the morning walk to class I took stock of myself physically for the first time in months, ignoring the beautiful weather I was marching through. Comparing myself now to last year, I certainly knew I was bigger, but it was more than that. My gait had changed, more of a lumbering shuffle than an easy stroll. My feet stuck out at a diagonal with each step when previously they were straight. My thighs rubbed together with every step, wearing the inside of each pant leg to the point where it was clearly visible.

I then took a few more steps and noticed how my front jiggled with each step, and how my chest and belly rubbed against the inside of t-shirt, chafing my tits. After a few more steps I could feel a sliver of cold as my lower belly escaped the inadequate fabric that tried to contain it.

I was also hot; the real reason I’d wanted to wear shorts was so I wouldn’t be sweating by the time I got to school. I could already feel beads of sweat on my back and forehead.

Checking my phone’s weather app, it reported the current temperature to be a mere 14 degrees Celsius - well below room temperature.

By the time I got to school I was winded and had sweat through my shirt. As I wheezed my way to class I made two promises right there: first, was that I’d start going to the gym to get in shape, and second, I was going to book a doctor’s appointment. Something was wrong - there was just no way I could be this big, and I planned to find out why I was.