#lard of legends

[beepboop260]

needed to do something quick and loose so have some yo/nes

i think about him going from being his super skinny self to devolving into gluttony so much

#my art #lard of legends #fanart #male weight gain art #weight gain kink #belly kink #fat kink

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Hearty Helping Of Heartsteel (Male WG Interactive)

This was a gift for my partner, @beepboop260 who got me into lea/gue of le/ge/nds 🤢. So this is a league story but it is still 60k words of male chonk goodness

Started this interactive back in the beginning of January and while this was more of a test of just being able to plan certain things around. This thankfully kinda worked out to be ready in time for the anniversary of my blog which also lines up with FE. And while this isn't an actual fe story, hopefully this is just a taste of what is to come! (But not for a long fucking time, cause I need a breather after this lmao)

And thanks to everyone for sticking around so long and to all of you for your likes, reblogs, and comments, they genuinely mean a lot to me! Especially the comments, have those screenshotted 🥺 And here's to another year of making fe men fat as fuck 🥳

Anyways, here's another link to the story to copy paste into incognito mode lol

https://dashingdon.com/play/kink-of-the-emblem/a-hearty-helping-of-heartsteel/mygame/

#my writing #ssbhm #fat fiction #maleweightgain #gainerfiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #male weight gain #rapid weight gain #extreme weight gain #lard of legends

[useless-catalanfacts]

Sant Joan (Saint John’s Day or Midsummer Day) is celebrated on the night of the 23rd of June and on the 24th of June. It’s the shortest night of the year.

It’s very widely celebrated in all the Catalan-speaking countries (Northern Catalonia, Catalonia, Andorra, la Franja, the Valencian Country, the Balearic Islands and l’Alguer) to the point that it’s considered the national day of the Catalan Countries.

The tradition is to celebrate the night of Saint John’s Eve (in Catalan: la revetlla de Sant Joan) by staying up all night with friends, throwing firecrackers and making bonfires. People eat coca de Sant Joan (a sweet flatbread like in the photo above) and coca de llardons (lard flatbread) and drink cava (Catalan champagne). On the day of Sant Joan, families have a big lunch together.

In addition to this, some areas also add their own local traditions, which often also have to do with fire. The most famous ones are the Sant Joan festivities in Ciutadella (Menorca) and the falles in the Pyrenees (Catalonia and Andorra).

Fire is a very important element in Catalan festivities. It’s believed to come from pre-Christian rituals, where fire is understood as a purifying element and at the same a way to worship or homage the sun, given that Sant Joan is the summer solstice.

According to Catalan legends, the night of Sant Joan is the most magical moment of the year. On that night, you are likely to find magical beings such as follets and fairies who might try to play tricks on you, so be careful!

There are also many superstitions for this night, the most famous of which is that jumping over the bonfire will give you good luck for the next year or will make your wishes come true.

Other superstitions have to do with water. Catalan legends say that all water sources are magical on Saint John’s Night. Many people go bathe in the sea, and some people jump over 9 waves with their backs turned towards the coast, because old beliefs say it brings happiness for the year.

Photos: coca de Sant Joan from Vilaweb, a bonfire in Barcelona from Descobrir.cat, jumping over a bonfire and bathing on Sant Joan’s Eve from 7televalencia.

#sant joan #tradicions #midsummer #saint john's day #cultures #culture #fire #food #flatbread #cake #sweet #celebrations #holidays #summer #catalonia #valencian country #balearic islands

[lunavenefica]

⛤Fairies, Elves and Vile in Slav History and Myth⛤

Many of us know a lot about Greek, Roman and Viking mythology but few of us have ever heard about Slavic folklore.

This is partly due to the attitude of the Church, which throughout history was mostly negative towards mythological beings, holidays and customs from Slavic mythology. 

The myth of fairies (“vile”) is common to many Slavic peoples, and is one of the most widespread and oldest myths. 

We get the first information about fairies in our area from Procopius of Caesarea (6th century), who says that the Slavs "respect rivers and nymphs, as well as other demons, and offer sacrifices to all of them, and on that occasion also do fortune-telling."

In Slavic mythology there are only fairies as supernatural beings, mysterious women who live in nature, mostly on mountains, by lakes and streams or in them, next to springs or in the ground, in special caves and pits. 

Fairies resemble human women, boast a special beauty and have no wings. 

They are tall and slender, with lush hair that is either loose or braided. 

They wear white clothes, and sometimes they have a golden crown, a golden star or an evergreen wreath on their head.

In some stories, fairies have several physical flaws. 

In one version, their hair stinks terribly, and in another version, instead of human feet, they have cat's paws, horse hooves or mule and donkey hooves, and goat or cow legs, which they then hide well. 

Maybe that's why fairies love horses so much. 

If someone's horse stays outside the barn overnight, they play with it until dawn and braid its mane. 

Fairies are mostly good or neutral, but you have to be careful around them because they are easy to anger. 

They help people by giving them useful things, they look after the flock while shepherds sleep, heal people with herbs or teach them which herbs have healing properties. 

They show the way to a lost traveler, strengthen the soldiers and put to sleep a crying child in the cradle. 

Sometimes the fairies make it a condition that the person to whom they gave the gift must not look at the gift until he gets home. 

If the person bows down and looks, the gift turns into coal, eggshell, and the like. 

The four-leaf clover is known in Slavic countries as fairy grass, and the person who finds it will bring luck and wealth, but also great misfortune if he throws the clover into the fire.

Admittedly, sometimes they know how to steal a child they particularly like (most often a beautiful and gifted child) and raise it as their own. 

Sometimes they steal a child and plant their child instead (like changelings). 

Although there are no elves, fairies like to seduce human youths and have offspring with them. 

Men who are somehow related to the fairies are called elves, elves, or elves, but they are definitely of human origin. 

If someone finds the fairies combing at the well, they take him with them. 

They like to take revenge on humans if they break their oath or if they do not accept fairy friendship. 

Those who accept fairy friendship often become clairvoyant or become skilled clairvoyants.

In addition to children, fairies also know how to kidnap adults. 

A myth was recorded in Novigrad that says that fairies know how to kidnap a man and give him the knowledge of divination. They do this by taking him to the mountain where they live. The initiation of man takes place next to an old tree, which is a frequent initiation symbol in many mythologies.

It was also believed that fairies feed on honey, lambs, little pigs or eat lard. 

Word comes  that they ate the crumbs that were left on the table after people had eaten their meal. 

Fairies do not drink water from anywhere but pure springs. 

Sometimes their power was thought to reside in the golden belt or scarf they wore and if it was taken away, they lost their power. 

That power was great, and this is best described by the legend that says that the Arena in Pula was built by fairies in one night. 

They took stones from Učka and stacked them in a circle. 

But fairies, in this version, are creatures of the night and when they heard the song of the first hen in the morning, they had to stop working. 

Because of this, the Arena remained unfinished.

Suđenice (destinies, sujenices, birth women) are also some kind of fairy creatures that determine a person's fate at the moment of birth. 

There are usually three judges who decide the child's fate after birth, and it will be as the last judge says. 

They are invisible to people unless a person has a fern flower with them, and a woman in labor can hear them if she stays up all night. 

In some regions, there was a custom of leaving food on the table, which the judges would then eat and then be gentle and benevolent in divination of the child's fate.

Women who claimed to be particularly skilled in healing and that fairies had taught them to do so were called elves. 

There is a case dating back to 1660 when a notice was received "to the captain of Janjina in the Republic of Dubrovnik, Ivan Gučetić, that there were elves and witches in his captaincy". The captain ordered one of those elves to be brought because he was interested in what elves could do. 

The elf replied that she knew how to heal and that she had been taught it by Aunt Vila, who appeared to her in a white robe, in the form of a nun. 

She also claimed to be able to tell who was harmed by a witch and whether that person would recover or not. 

From this statement, the mixing of the older mythology about fairies with newer Christian elements is obvious. 

The reform of the Church, the fierce Protestant criticism of the situation in the Christian world of that time and the Council of Trent (1545-1563) initiated processes that strongly influenced Europe. 

Namely, in addition to the reform of the Church, there was also a "reform of folk culture" when elves were put in a negative context, even though they had not previously attracted too much attention in church circles. 

In the 17th century, elves were equated with witches, which meant that they were equally subject to persecution. 

The practice of persecuting women accused of possessing supernatural powers was put to an end by Maria Theresa in 1756, and two years later, courts in Slavic countries were prohibited from conducting any trials against witches, elves and sorcery without the empress's direct permission.

⛤Isidora⛤

#slavic magic #slavic mythology #vile #vilenjaci #slavic folklore #slavs #fae #faeries #faery #fairy #fairy cottage #witch #witchcraft #history of witchcraft #magic #magick #witchblr

[beautiful-basque-country]

Lamiak, also known as lamiñak, lamiñakuak, amilamiak and eilamiak, are otherworldly beautiful female beings that live near rivers and caves. They love every white and greasy food (milk, lard, white bread, etc) that humans give them as a present or in exchange for some help.

Lamiak have duck feet and blond locks that they constantly comb with valuable gold combs. Some say the only way to upset them is stealing these combs since generally these ladies are shy and elusive, but also kind and helpful; however, they can become wilful and even kidnappers, depending on the legend.

They are a very well known character of Basque mythology, and still nowadays you can find their name in some villages of EH like Lamiategi, Lamiako, Laminazilo and Lamiaran, to name a few.

Art by Raúl Fernández González

#euskadi #euskal herria #basque country #pais vasco #pays basque #lamiak #euskal mitologia #mythology #art #illustration #folklore #culture #travel #places

[donttalkaboutmemes]

Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001) Sentence Meme

Under the cut you will find 180+ sentences from Atlantis: The Lost Empire to use for your enjoyment!    

1.      “You fool! You’ve destroyed us all!”

2.      “The wave is gaining! We have to warn Atlantis!”

3.      “Good afternoon, gentlemen. First off, I’d like to thank this board for taking the time to hear my proposal.”

4.      “We’ve all heard of the legend of Atlantis, a continent somewhere in the mid-Atlantic that was home to an advance civilization possessing technology far beyond our own.”

5.      “Some of you may ask, why Atlantis? It’s just a myth, isn’t it? Pure fantasy?” Well, that is where you’d be wrong.”

6.      “Numerous ancient cultures all over the globe agree that Atlantis possessed a power source of some kind, more powerful than steam. Than coal.”

7.      “I propose that we find Atlantis, find that power source, and bring it back to the surface.”

8.      “This is a page from an illuminated text that describes a book called the Shepher’s Journal, said to have been a first-hand account of Atlantis and its exact whereabouts.”

9.      “Uh, would you gentlemen please excuse me for a moment?”

10.   “Showtime. Well, this is it. I am finally getting out of this dungeons.”

11.   “If I ever heard the word Atlantis again, I’ll step in front of a bus!”

12.   “This museum funds scientific expeditions based on facts, not legends and folklore.”

13.   “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but this is a letter of resignation! If you reject my proposal, I’ll quit.”

14.   “You have a lot of potential. Don’t throw it all away chasing fairy tales.”

15.   “I can prove Atlantis exists!”

16.   “You want to go on an expedition? Here. Take a trolley to the Potomac and jump in! Maybe the cold water will clear your head.”

17.   “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

18.   “I’m acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you. Are you interested?”

19.   “You will stand unless asked to be seated. Keep your sentences short and to the point. Are we clear?”

20.   “Relax. He doesn’t bite. Often.”

21.   “He brought that package to me years ago. He said if anything were to happen to him, I should give it to you when you were ready. Whatever that means.”

22.   “This journal is the key to finding the lost continent of Atlantis!”

23.   “Atlantis? Ha! I wasn’t born yesterday.”

24.   “I’ve spent my whole life studying dead languages. It’s not gibberish to me.”

25.   “My grandfather would have known if this were a fake. I would know. I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in, that this is genuine.”

26.   “I’ll show them! I will make them believe!”

27.   “Forget the rowboat, son. We’ll travel in style.”

28.   “For years your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book. I didn’t buy it for a minute.”

29.   “Your grandpa was a great man. You probably don’t realize how great.”

30.   “He died a broken man. If I could bring back just one shred of proof, that’d be enough for me.”

31.   “You know, in order to do what you’re proposing, you’re gonna need a crew.”

32.   “All we need now is an expert in gibberish.”

33.   “You can build on the foundation your grandfather left you, or you can go back to your boiler room.”

34.   “Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.”

35.   “Carrots. Why is there always carrots? I didn’t even eat carrots.”

36.   “Excuse me? I need to…uh…report in?”

37.   “Blondie, I got a bone to pick with you.”

38.   “You done stuffed my wagon full to bustin’ with nonessentials. Look at all this! Cinnamon, oregano, cilantro. What in the cockadoodle is cilantro?”

39.   “I got your four basic food groups! Beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard!”

40.   “All right, cowboy. Pack it up and move it out.”

41.   “Hey, junior. If you’re looking for the pony rides, they’re back there.”

42.   “Boy, when you settle a bet, you settle a bet.”

43.   “Your granddad always believed you couldn’t put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.”

44.   “Make us proud, boy!”

45.   “You ask too many questions. Who are you? Who sent you? Speak up!”

46.   “Do not be such a crybaby. Hold still.”

47.   “This is an outrage! You must leave at once!”

48.   “Now what have I told you about playing nice with the other kids?”

49.   “Get back! I got soap and I’m not afraid to use it!”

50.   “Back, foul creature! Back to the pit from which you came!”

51.   “Nice, isn’t it? The catalogue says that this little beauty can saw through a femur in 28 seconds. I’m bettin’ I can cut that time in half.”

52.   “How about some slides? The first slide is a depiction of a creature. A creature so frightening that sailors were said to be driven mad by the mere sight of it.”

53.   “Geez, I used to take lunch money from guys like this.”

54.   “This is an illustration of the Leviathan, the creature guarding the entrance to Atlantis.”

55.   “With something like that, I would have white wine.”

56.   “It’s a mythical sea serpent. He’s described in the book of Job. The Bible says out of his mouth go burning lights, sparks of fire shoot out.”

57.   “Do you want to do my job? Be my guest.”

58.   “We took a big hit down here, and we’re taking on water fast! I don’t wanna be around when it hits the boilers!”

59.   “You heard the lady! Let’s move!”

60.   “He took his suitcase? Honey, I don’t think he’s coming back.”

61.   “Seven hours ago we started this expedition with two hundred of the finest men and women I’ve ever known. We’re all that’s left.”

62.   “I won’t sugar-coat it, gentlemen. We have a crisis on our hands.”

63.   “We’ve been up this particular creek before and we’ve always come through, paddle or no paddle. I see no reason to change that policy now.”

64.   “Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you. You and that little book.”

65.   “Will you look at the size of this? It’s gotta be half a mile high, at least. It must have taken hundred, no, thousands of years to carve this thing.”

66.   “Two for flinching.”

67.   “That thing is going to keep me up all night. I know it.”

68.   “There you go. Put some meat on them bones.”

69.   “You’re so skinny if you turned sideways and stuck out your tongue, you’d look like a zipper.”

70.   “You know, we’ve been pretty tough on the kid. What do you say we cut him some slack?”

71.   “Don’t you ever close that book?”

72.   “In this passage here, the shepherd seems to be leading up to something. He calls it the Heart of Atlantis. It could be the power source legends refer to.”

73.   “Sometimes I get a little carried away, but hey you know, that’s what this is all about. I mean, discovery, teamwork, adventure. Unless, maybe you’re just in it for the money.”

74.   “I guess I’m still a little rusty at this. I haven’t gone camping since…well…the last time my grandpa took me.”

75.   “I never got to meet your grandfather. What was he like?”

76.   “No offense, but how does a teenager become the chief mechanic of a multi-million dollar expedition?”

77.   “I took this job when my dad retired, but the funny thing was he always wanted sons, right? One to run his machine shop and the other to be middleweight boxing champion. He got my sister and me instead.”

78.   “It was like a sign from God. I found myself in that boom.”

79.   “Trust me on this, you don’t wanna know. Don’t tell him. You shouldn’t have told me, but you did, and now I’m telling you, you don’t wanna know.”

80.   “All right, who’s not dead? Sound off.”

81.   “Who are you strangers and where did you come from?”

82.   “Your manner of speech is strange to me.”

83.   “Bout time someone hit him. I’m just sorry it wasn’t me.”

84.   “How do they know all these languages?”

85.   “Maybe English is in there somewhere.”

86.   “We are explorers from the surface world. We come in peace.”

87.   “Welcome to the city of Atlantis.”

88.   “There were not supposed to be people down here. This changes everything.”

89.   “You know the law. No outsiders may see the city and live.”

90.   “Your majesty? On behalf of my crew, may I say it is an honor to be welcomed to your city.”

91.   “You presume much to think you are welcome here.”

92.   “I know what you seek and you will not find it here. Your journey has been in vain.”

93.   “Some obstacles cannot be removed with a mere show of force.”

94.   “Return to your people. You must leave Atlantis at once.”

95.   “May I respectfully request that we stay one night, sir? That would give us time to rest, resupply, and be ready to travel by morning.”

96.   “Your heart has softened. 1,000 years ago you would have slain them on sight.”

97.   “1,000 years ago the streets were lit and our people did not have to scavenge for food at the edge of a crumbling city!”

98.   “We were once a great people. Now we live in ruins. The kings of our past would week if they could see how far we have fallen.”

99.   “If these outsiders can unlock the secrets of our past, perhaps we can save our future.”

100. “What they have to teach us we have already learned.”

101.   “Our way of life is dying.”

102.   “Our way of life is preserved. When you take the throne, you will understand.”

103.    “The king and his daughter don’t exactly see eye to eye. She seems to like us okay, but the king…I don’t know. I think he’s hiding something.”

104.     “If he’s hiding something, I want to know what it is.”

105.     “Someone needs to talk to that girl.”

106.     “I have some questions for you and I’m not leaving this city until they’re answered.”

107.      “I have some questions for you and you are not leaving this city until they are answered.”

108.      “There is so much to ask about your world.”

109.      “You are a scholar, are you not? Judging from your diminished physique and large forehead, you are clearly suited for nothing else.”

110.       “How did you get here? Well, I mean, not you personally but your culture. How did all of this end up down here?”

111.        “It is said that the gods became jealous of Atlantis. They sent a great cataclysm and banished up here.”

112.        “All I can remember is the sky going dark and people shouting and running. Then a bright light, like a star, floating about the city. My father said it called my mother to it.”

113.        “Are you telling me that you remember because you were there. No that’s…that’s impossible.”

114.        “How is it you found your way to this place?”

115.        “If it weren’t for this book, we never would have made it.”

116.       “Legend has it that your people possessed a power source of some kind that enable them.”

117.      “You mean you can understand this? This right here, you can read this?”

118.       “Such knowledge has been lost to us since the time of the flood.”

119.       “Follow the narrow passage for another league. There you will find the fifth marker.”

120.     “It looks like some sort of vehicle, but no matter what I try, it will not respond.”

121.     “That’s an easy thing to miss. You know, you deserve credit for even getting this far.”

122.      “This is great! With this thing I could see the whole city in no time at all!”

123.      “My grandpa used to tell me stories about this place as far back as I can remember. I just wish he could be standing here with me.”

124.    “Don’t forget to eat the head. That’s where all the nutrients are.”

125.    “The most we ever hoped to find was some crumbling buildings, maybe some broken pottery. Instead we find a living, thriving society.”

126.    “We are not thriving. True, our people live, but our culture is dying.”

127.     “We are like a stone the ocean beats against. With each passing year, a little more of us is worn away.”

128.      “I have brought you to this place to ask you for your help. There is a mural here with writing all around the pictures.”

129.      “You do swim, do you not?”

130.      “This is amazing! A complete history of Atlantis!”

131.      “It’s the heart of Atlantis!”

132.     “Don’t you get it? The power source I’ve been looking for, the bright light you remember. They’re the same thing!”

133.      “What’s going on? What’s with all the guns?”

134.      “I am such an idiot. This is just another treasure hunt for you.”

135.      “I would’ve told you sooner, but it was strictly on a need-to-know basis. And, well, now you know.”

136.      “I had to be sure you were one of us. Welcome to the club, son.”

137.      “I’m no mercenary.”

138.      “I prefer the term adventure capitalist.”

139.       “You’re the one who got us here. You led us right to the treasure chest.”

140.       “What’s to know? It’s big. It’s shiny. It’s going to make us all rich.”

141.        “You think it’s some kind of a diamond. I thought it was some kind of battery. But we’re both wrong.”

142.        “That crystal is the only thing keeping these people alive. You take that away and they’ll die.”

143.       “Academics. You never want to get your hands dirty.”

144.      “Think about it. If you gave back every stolen artifact from a museum, you’d be left with an empty building. We’re just providing a necessary service to the archeological community.”

145.     “Do yourself a favor. Don’t be like him. For once, do the smart thing.”

146.      “You will destroy yourselves.”

147.      “I suggest you put a bandage on that bleeding heart of yours. It doesn’t suit a mercenary.”

148.     “The heart of Atlantis lies in the eyes of her king.”

149.     “You don’t have the slightest idea what this power is capable of.”

150.     “I can think of a few countries who’d pay anything to find out.”

151.     “All it says here is that the crystal is alive somehow.”

152.     “Why don’t you translate and I’ll wave the gun around.”

153.     “Hold your horses, lover boy.”

154.     “So this is how it ends, huh? Fine. You win. You’re wiping out an entire civilization but, hey, you’ll be rich.”

155.      “That’s what it’s all about, right? Money.”

156.      “Get off your soapbox. You’ve read Darwin. It’s called natural selection. We’re just helping it along.”

157.     “Look at it this way, son. You were the man who discovered Atlantis, and now you’re part of the exhibit.”

158.     “Be serious. This is wrong and you know it.”

159.    “We’re this close to our biggest payday ever and you pick now of all times to grow a conscience.”

160.    “We’ve done a lot of things we’re not proud of. Robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking. But nobody got hurt. Well, maybe somebody we got hurt, but nobody we knew.”

161.     “She has been chosen. Like her mother before her.”

162.     “In times of danger the crystal will choose a host. One of royal blood to protect itself and its people. It will accept no other.”

163.     “The crystal thrives on the collective emotions of all who came before us. In return, it provides power, longevity, protection.”

164.     “In my arrogance I sought to use it as a weapon of war, but it’s power proved too great to control. It overwhelmed us and led to our destruction.”

165.     “That’s why you hid it beneath the city, to keep history from repeating itself.”

166.     “If she remains bonded to the crystal, she could be lost to it forever.”

167.    “The love of my daughter is all I have left.”

168.    “My burden would have become hers when the time was right, but now it falls to you.”

169.    “Return the crystal. Save Atlantis. Save my daughter.”

170.    “I followed you in and I’ll follow you out. It’s your decision.”

171.    “I think we’ve seen how effective my decisions have been.”

172.    “Let’s recap. I lead a band of plundering vandals to the greatest archeological find in recorded history thus enabling the kidnap and or murder of the royal family, not to mention personally delivering the most powerful force known to man into the hands of a mercenary nutcase who’s probably going to sell it to the Kaiser! Have I left anything out?”

173.  “It’s been my experience when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.”

174.  “I didn’t say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing.”

175.  “We better make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

176.  “This is it! We’re going to rescue the princess! We’re going to save Atlantis! Or we’re going to die trying!”

177.   “I love it when I win.”

178.  “We were in this together! You promised me a percentage!”

179.  “I have to hand it to you. You’re a bigger pain in the neck than I would have ever thought possible.”

180. “I consider myself an even-tempered man. It takes a lot to get under my skin, but congratulations! You just won the solid-gold kewpie doll!”

181.  “That’s a darn shame, because I’m just getting warmed up!”

182.   “Atlantis will honor your names forever. I only wish there was more we could do for you.”

183.  “You sure you want to stay? There’s a heroes welcome waiting for the man who discovered Atlantis.”

184.  “I don’t think the world needs another hero.”

185.   “Let’s go over it again, just so we got it straight. You didn’t find anything?”

186.  “I hope this piece of proof is enough for you.”

#ask meme #rp meme #ROLEPLAYING MEME #sentence meme #disney meme #atlantis the lost empire #Atlantis

[fiftysevenacademics]

Eggplant “impletata,” or vânătă umplută (vegan version)

On May 3 our friend Jonathan Harker was served a ground meat-stuffed eggplant dish he called “impletata” for breakfast. Stuffed eggplant is one of my specialties so I immediately decided I had to make it. I never follow a recipe for my own and have very strong opinions and routines when it comes to making stuffed eggplant, so I decided it was of utmost importance that I not just wing it and try to find an authentic Romanian recipe. Googling eggplant “impletata” turned up recipes-- but only from people doing what I’m doing and trying to copy our imperiled food blogger friend. The recipes were all quite different and I realized something fishy was going on. So I googled “Romanian stuffed eggplant” and came across a passage from The Universal Vampire: Origins and Evolution of a Legend, edited by Barbara Brodman, and James E. Doan, Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2013. I reproduce the passage in its entirety because... Jonathan, your language skills and food curiosity are a bit lacking (the same goes for a lot of literary critics, I guess):

If the paprika hendl with mamaliga is problematic because it raises doubts about Harker’s recollections of his trip, the famous stuffed eggplant is a true challenge and highlights Harker’s inability with languages. Impletata is in fact a mix of two, or even three Romanian words (none of which means eggplant): împletită , which is a type of braided bread; umplută , an adjective that means stuffed; and împănată , another adjective that means half-stuffed, or feathered, meaning that the inside of the “eggplant” (to keep with Harker’s menu) is not scooped out, but that the “eggplant” is sliced on the surface and other vegetables are inserted halfway. In fact, there are lots of recipes of vegetables and meats that can either be umplută or împănată , whereas only the bread is împletită . Without mentioning the fact that impletata is not a word in the Romanian lexicon, Klinger notes that “[t]he simplest version of impletata is a scooped out eggplant with the pulped eggplant, ground meat, breadcrumbs, and butter, and baked. Dozens of recipes are widely available in English, under ‘stuffed eggplant.’” Similarly, Leatherdale observes: “‘Mamaliga’ and ‘impletata’ come from Johnson (p. 120): ‘Egg plant stuffed with chopped meat is National Dish and called ‘Ua Impletata.’” Both these descriptions refer to stuffed eggplant, which in Romanian would be vânătă umplută. The “Ua” in Johnson���s text, reproduced by Leatherdale, could be an attempt to write down the Transylvanian pronunciation of “o,” which is the Romanian feminine indefinite article, that is, “a,” as in “a[n] impletata.” It is even possible that Johnson confused “o” with “una,” the Romanian feminine cardinal numeral, that is, “one.” This brief discussion of Harker’s Transylvanian meals shows both that his diary entries are not accurate and also that the critics working with the novel have never questioned the information offered by the fictional traveler. Indeed, all the academic work relies on Harker’s diary and on a few travelers’ logs that Stoker used. Not one critic has really questioned whether the information in these writings is correct. The notes mention Stoker’s source for one or another piece of information and they stop at that.

Googling “vânătă umplută” did, indeed turn up pages and pages of recipes, but they were all in Romanian. Google translate did a good enough job, however, for me to recognize that the only English-language recipe I found in my first search that seemed to be authentic, on a Romanian recipe blog, was, in fact, similar to all the translated recipes I was looking at. Plus, it was a very simple recipe with ingredients I had on hand, and it was already in English, so that’s what I used. Recipe is below with my additions and substitutions.

Ingredients (x)

6 small eggplants

14 oz/400 g ground sirloin (my addition: or meat analog)

2 onions

3 tablespoons lard (my addition: or shortening)

1 lb/500 g tomatoes (my substitution: a 14.5 oz can of diced tomatoes)

1 teaspoon flour

½ teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon mixed chopped parsley and dill (I only used parsley)

salt

pepper

My addition: garlic powder, cider vinegar

My addition: 1 cup breadcrumbs

Directions

Remove the stems of the eggplants.

Then set to boil for 5 – 6 minutes in salt water.

Remove and keep in cold water until cooled off.

Drain well and remove the insides.

Do not throw away the insides, but keep in the colander.

To the ground meat add finely chopped raw or fried onion, 2 tablespoons of lard, salt, pepper, chopped parsley and dill and the eggplants' insides.

Mix well and fill the eggplant shells with this mixture.

Fry some finely chopped onion with a tablespoon of lard, add flour, let it turn yellow, then pour the boiled and strained tomatoes over it.

Add salt and sugar.

Place the eggplants in this sauce, spread some chopped parsley and dill and let simmer, covered, until the liquid is reduced somewhat.

I had 2 large egpplants, not 6 small. I cut them in half and boiled them 10 minutes, which was my first mistake. They were way too soft— should’ve left them whole and only cooked them for 5-6 even though they were larger.  I used this fake ground pork stuff (10 oz) we have and a little crumbled tempeh for texture (4 oz). I used about 2 Tbs. of onions in the sauce and mixed the rest with the meat/eggplant guts mixture. That was my second mistake. I should have fried the onions first because they were too wet and also didn’t taste as good as they should’ve. The filling mixture looked too wet so I added about a cup of breadcrumbs. That was my third mistake. It needed double that much breadcrumbs! My fourth mistake was there was way too much filling for the eggplants but I heaped it all on anyway. It looked impressive but I knew better and did it anyhow. The sauce was chunkier than I wanted so I used an immersion blender to make it smooth.

I stuffed the eggplants and started to cook them in the sauce in a covered pan on the stove as directed but decided they were just way too wet so I carefully lifted them out, put them in a baking pan, and baked them for about 40 minutes at 375. The eggplant shell was mush LOL. The filling, though cooked through, did not hold together and was also kind of bland and mushy. 

But it was all good enough, just not up to my usual glorious stuffed eggplant standards. I do like the pre-boiling method, though. I have never done it that way and it makes things a lot simpler. I’ll just make sure I don’t boil it for too long next time. This recipe is easy but not all that great. If I make it again I’ll make a stickier, more textured filling with more salt and pepper and cooked onions.

#dracula daily #daily dracula #dracula #eggplant #recipe #food #my stuff #long post

[fayamn]

Reading your league of legends wg stories reminds me of this gif only I start fat and get fatter.

For those who don't know: my Deviantart. I'm doing all the league girls (the legal ones) fattening the reader.

Omg that "account created" fattening memes get me everytime. Love it even more when it's paired to weight loss ad put backwards.

Actually had to dig that up, but I went hog wild on something like that on a LoL fats discord server a year ago :

(Last message if that's not readable enough: )

Because it's enjoyable for a fatty hog to imagine himself in a situation like that. Spoiled, pampered, pleasured, your body gets ruined into a bloated lardy mess, as you turn into a soft sculpture to hedonism and excess. And as you get weaker, larger, flabbier, only grows stronger the will of your cute feeder to make you the fattest pig she always wanted to have. As you laze around, eating yourself wider, I'll work to make sure you never have an empty stomach. I'll encourage you to snack mindlessly between heavy feeding sessions, during which I'll expand your stomach by stuffing you more and more, until inly an endless feast would be enough to satisfy your gluttony. All for that sweet softness, all the lard you'll have to lug around, that is going to encumber you. Running will be out of the question, as waddling is going to be all you'll be able to manage. You'll fear any stairs, and only crave to be seated or laying down while you're up. But I'll get you up as many times as I can. Not for you to burn calories, of course, but to enjoy the sight of my pig struggling, sweating and out of breath, beggining to stop after a couple steps. Unless… Your greediness taking over completely, you'll push me for more, using your flabby obese body to make demands, pinning me with your fat gut against the wall, or dropping your weight on me to be fed more. I guess we'll see if you'll want anything more than be a submitted lazy pig for your feeder~

(also love to notice I didn't change a single bit, definitely in the middle of my flat character arc)

#fayanswers #fayrambles #fayimpro #but from like a year ago

[la-principessa-della-squadra]

I was wondering, what is the most ‘widely known across all parts of Italy’ idiom/proverb/saying about… Cats! It is a long dumb story about why I need to know this, but please amuse me any way, won’t you? 🐾

Oh we got plenty!

1-"Quando il gatto non c'è, i topi ballano"

(when the cat is away, the mice will play)

literal: (when the cat is away, the mice will dance)

This idiomatic expression is used to describe a specific moment when people do what they want while their boss or someone in authority is away. Therefore, they misbehave or break rules to enjoy their freedom and do what they like for a while.

2-"Qui Gatta ci cova"

(I smell a rat)

Literal (Cat's in the craddle)

This idiomatic expression is used to say there's something fishy going on or that someone is up to something

3-"Tanto va la gatta al lardo che ci lascia lo zampino"

(Curiosity killed the cat/the pitcher goes so often to the well that it leaves its handle..)

 Literal (the cat goes to the lard so often that it leaves its paw)

This idiom suggests that people who perform (repeatedly) an action that they want to keep hidden, eventually risks leaving a clear evidence of it.

4-"Il gatto ti ha mangiato la lingua?"

(Cat got your tongue?)

Literal (did the cat eat your tongue?)

This is a popular expression used to urge someone to speak when they do not want to.

5-"Non dire gatto se non ce l'hai nel sacco"

(Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched)

Literal (Don’t say cat if you don’t have it in the sack)

This idiom suggests that people shouldn't make plans relying on something that we expect to happen in the future.

Fun fact:

People from Vicenza (vicentini),like our dear Ghiaccio, are still ironically called 'magnagatti' (cat-eater) because of several popular beliefs and legends that spread many centuries ago.

One of the most well-known legends suggest that during a famine, vicentini restorted to cat as food.

According to this legend, the expression 'vicentini magnagatti' dates back to the Risorgimento, during which, cities like Vicenza were fighting against the Austrian Empire and consequentially, they were suffering from famine.

However this was never proved.

-La Principessa della Squadra

#la squadra esecuzione #jojo's bizzarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo in italiano #italian #italy #cat #gatti #cute kitty #jjba ghiaccio #made in italy #veneto aureo #jojo vento aureo #cat ghiaccio #gatto ghiaccio #la principessa della squadra

[beepboop260]

self indulgent yo/nes what's new

#my art #fanart #lard of legends #male weight gain #fat art #fat kink #belly kink #male weight gain art

[fattest-disney-characters]

Disney Princensses/Queen Muse

1:Snow White

2;Cinderella

3:Aurora

4:Belle

5:Jasmine

6:Pocahontas

7:Mulan

8:Ariel

9:Tiana

10:Rapuzel

11:Merida

12:Moana

13:Anna

14:Melody (18 yo)

15:Elsa

16:Queen of Spades

Turning Red Characters

1:Ming Lee

2:Mei Lee (18 yo)

3:Priya (18 yo)

4:Miriam (18 yo)

5:Abby (18yo)

6:Chen

7:Ping

8:Helen

9:Lily

10:Grandma Wu

11. Vivian(Lily daughter that was cut from the movie)

12. Jin Lee

Lion King Characters

1:Nala

2:Kiara

3:Sarabi

4:Sarafina

5:Zira

6:Vitani

Pokémon characters

1.Gloria from pokémon sword and shield (18 years old)

2.Marnie from pokémon sword and shield(18 years old)

3. Irida from pokémon legends arceus (18 years old)

4.Akari from pokemon legends arceus (18 years old)

5. Cogita from pokémon legends arceus

6. Serena from pokémon x and y(20 years old)

7. Misty(but in mighthyena form) from pokémon (25 years)

8. Nurse Joy, weight: 780lbs

Harry Potter Characters (games included)

Petunia Drusley

Aunt Marge

Prunela Drusley

Hermione Granger

Merula

Luna Lovewood

Fleru

Aludra Malfoy

Anne Sallow (starting weight: 120 lbs)

Mha

Inko age 41 years old (Inko Midoriya is a jumbo-sized blob of a Housewife

who weighs 3496 lbs)

Mitsuki 39 years old (Mitsuki Bakugo is a spectacularly hefty blob of a Housewife who weighs 3835 lbs)

Ochako 18years old

Toga 18 years old

Momo 18 years old

Mina 18 years old

Tsu 18 years old

Toru 18 years old

Mandalay

Pixie-Bob

Ragdoll

Demon Slayer

Nezuko Kamado 18 years old

Mitsuri 18 years old

Shinobu 19 years old

Kanao 18 years old

Lady Tamayo

Lady Kana 80 years old

Susamaru

Makomo

One Piece Characters

Nami;

Vivi;

Nico Robin

Boa Hancock

Yamato(Daughter of Kaido)

Charlotte Linlin aka Big Mom: 1323lbs

Bloodborne

Vicar Amelia: 500lbs

Goddess of Yharnam Vicar Amelia

Lady Maria

Lady Maria Beast of Astral ClockTower

Doll

Eileen

Iosefka

Impostor Iosefka

Irl SSBBW Ladies( tv shows, movies, etc)

Lisa Fleming

Kelly Mason

Coliesa McMillian

Renee Biran

Guna Krasley

Ashley Randall

Laura Ann Perez

Angela Gutierrez

Dragoness

Ludmilla

Malifecent

Rick and Morty ladies

Beth

Summer

Clarence World Lady

Mary Wendell

Show of courage the scared dog fat lady

Muriel

Hazbin Hotel/ Helluva Boss

Charlie

Vaggie

Loona

Octavia

Millie

Loona

Kim of 666 news

Vaggie

Kung Fu Panda ladies

Viper

Mei Mei

Master Tigress

My Little Pony

Princess Celestia

Princess Luna

Princess Cadence

Princess Twillight

Rarity

Pinkie Pie

Apple Jack

Rainbow Dash

Fluttershy

Star wars ladies

Padme

Ahsoka

Rei

Leia

Fat Bleach Ladies

Orihime

Rukia

Hikifune

Rangiku

Isane

Momo

Soi Fon

Rurichyo

Yachiru

Kiyone

Nemu

Karin Kurosaki

Masaki Kurosaki

Yuzu Kurosaki

Fat Naruto/Boruto ladies

Sakura

Hinata

Tsunade

Shizune

Mito Uzumaki

Kushina uzumaki

Anko

Family guy fat ladies

Meg Griffin

Lois Griffin

The Simpsons

Marge

Lisa

Maggie

Dia-Betty

Marge sisters

Maude Fladders

Louanne Van Houten

Mindy Simmons

Miss Hoover

Edna Krabapple

Fat Sonic ladies

Vanilla

Cream

Amy Rose

Rouge

Blaze

Fat Fnaf

Chica

Toy Chica

Funtime Chica

Glamrock Chica

Mangle

Nightmare Mangle

Roxanne Wolf

Circus Baby

Ballora

Vanny

Officer Vanessa

Beastars ladies

Leano(Legoshi mom)

Juno

Liza(my oc)

Sheila

Haru

Melon Mum

Legoshi (Because of a episode he dressed as a lady)

Toki (Leano mom and Legoshi grandma)

Undertale/ Deltarune

Toriel

Frisk

Chara

Alphys

Catty

Catti

Fixala beautiful girls

Pebbles and Becky

Ashley

Rosie (Ashley vixen pet)

Georgette

Magna

Delphine

Victoria and her sisters younger Kelly and Kylie

Ricky

Morgana:pig

Hissy:pet snake

Odette

Victoria

Loky

Janet

Jasper

Nina

Stacey

Magna

Caramel

Valerie

Lesley

Morana

Zala

Nina:glaceon

Madelyn 'Maddie': vaporeon

Momo

Sanurah

Kylie

Vanessa

Witch of waste

Carol

Sarah

Karen

Kinks: Weight gain, Immobility, Slob, Gas, Blob, Pregnancy, Drool, Feet, Inflation( Water, Air, Blueberry and Lard), Panting/Heavy breathing, Health Issues, Uneven body parts, Squashing/ Crushing( Food, Toys), Clothes Ripping, Dom/Sub feeding, Milking and Animal transformation

[cator99]

My coworker asked me what I'm doing for Christmas and I said SAVING MY MONEY and she laughed and said Yeah Same and then recanted her statement and admitted that her saving wasn't going very well because she had just spent 700 DOLLARS on a fucking gaming chair for her lard-ass boyfriend but it didn't stop there because when I said WOW she said No it was a League of Legends chair actually. When I gave her a Blank Stare she said you know what that is and I said well not really kind of it's a game right. I didn't know what to say well no I knew exactly what I wanted to say I am going to break a molar with how much I clench my jaw at work holding back from saying anything honest to these people about how insane I think they all are. 700 dollars. For a... gaming chair....... That is more than I pay for rent I don't even own any chairs I sit on the floor who what kind of luxury ass I have pillows I can put a pillow under my ass I would prefer that in fact use a pillow keep my $700 oh my God I could travel to America rent an Airbnb and spend you don't like a month maybe not a month but a significant amount of time just hanging out lounging like a king for $700 and all of that is going towards a chair he's going to just sit around and eat doritos and jerk off in. And she followed this up by saying well at least I know he'll be happy finally what ok if he isn't happy and the one thing preventing this man from experiencing happiness is a $700 fucking League of Legends gaming chair I think that money would be a better spent on therapy or something of the sort that cannot really the extent of his woes I seriously doubt it why is it her responsibility to make him happy anyways you know doesn't this woman have her own issues her own happiness to consider I have spent one shift with this woman and i can confidently say yes she should probably focus on her own happiness and tell that baby ass man to go sit in a stroller

[innitmarvellous]

The tub of lard episode has a special place in my heart...not just because of the Rt Hon Tub of Lard MP (though that would be enough of a reason on its own), but also because in this episode Paul basically shares my hairstyle, lol. (Yeah, I'm aware that technically it'd be the other way round as he was there first, haha.)

I mean...

The man, the myth, the legend:

And, well...me (slightly censored for your viewing pleasure ;D):

(ignore the mess behind me pls, bookshelves are in dire need of tidying haha)

#i gotta say he looks better tho...hair goals lol #things only i could be happy about: vaguely looking like a man from a 90s panelshow episode #and now dear followers i might have reached peak cringe...well cringe but free right?

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Raven (Corman, 1963)

This review contains mild spoilers.

You know we're off to a good start when a movie opens with horror legend Vincent Price sitting in a chair wagging his finger. There's gonna lots more sit down finger wagging and lots of Price and other horror legends making funny faces. Turns out he's trying to conjure a raven through the magic of 1960s optical effects, and indeed one does come to greet him, only to immediately start talking shit. So we get a few minutes of Price reacting to a bird that's being really condescending without much cause. It turns out the raven is a magician, and needs the help of Price to turn himself back into a human by preparing a complex potion.

"Well, you got some dried blood of a bat in the house?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bat's blood! Dried or evaporated, bat's blood."

"No."

"How about some chain links from a gallow's bird? Jellied spiders? Rabbit's lard? Dead man's hair?"

"No, we don't keep those things in this house. We're vegetarians."

Anyway, it turns out Price has less than he needs to for a full serving, so the raven gets turned into Peter Lorre but with a raven's body, so we get Price now acting alongside Lorre in a stupid looking bird suit. Eventually other characters enter the picture, namely Boris Karloff as a more sinister magician who may or may not have wronged the others, although who started it seems to be up for debate.

This is the third of Roger Corman's Edgar Allan Poe adaptations I've seen this week, and it's definitely the lightest in tone. As you can probably guess from the above, what happens isn't all that terrifying, but it is pretty funny in a "sitcom doing a Halloween special" kind of way. The reason to watch this is obviously the presence of Price, Lorre and Karloff, all of whom are having a ball playing off each other and lounging around in the production design. While Corman isn't an absentee director here by any means, you do get the sense he was happy to sit back and watch these legends goof around. The handful of other actors don't make too much of an impression, with two exceptions. There's a young Jack Nicholson, who brings humour of a less intentional variety as Lorre's dorky son, mostly because this is the dorkiest Jack has ever been. And there's Hazel Court as Karloff's wife, who is perfect for the movie's campy wavelength and deserves an Olympic gold medal in heaving for her performance here. That being said, this is the second of these where Vincent Price gets cheated on by his super hot wife who he mistakenly believes is dead, and I have to wonder how Corman's marriage was doing at the time.

Like The Pit and the Pendulum, this mostly takes place in a handful of sets and benefits from the same appreciation for texture. Every costume in this movie looks like it would feel very nice to the touch. Even Peter Lorre's bird costume. The climax is a magical duel between Price and Karloff, which Corman directs the shit out of with a barrage of dramatic close-ups, canted angles and optical effects. It's a good demonstration of the importance of direction, because it's really just the two actors sitting in chairs twirling their fingers and raising their eyebrows and probably looked a lot lamer on set. Or maybe not. Price and Karloff look like they're having a lot of fun, and the energy is infectious.

#film #movie review #the raven #roger corman

[dulcetash]

I posted 714 times in 2022

That's 358 more posts than 2021!

62 posts created (9%)

652 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lurkerviolin

@bocere

@laughing-baubo

@festival-of-pudding

@tkingfisher

I tagged 573 of my posts in 2022

Only 20% of my posts had no tags

#dracula daily - 111 posts

#dracula - 35 posts

#our flag means death - 31 posts

#black sails - 26 posts

#9-1-1 - 21 posts

#what we do in the shadows - 17 posts

#lol - 12 posts

#jack seward - 11 posts

#rrr - 11 posts

#gen x? in my tumblr? - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 69 characters

#this is still the best thing that ever happened on al gore’s internet

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Perhaps Van Helsing needs to find a succinct route to the goddamn point before our blorbo snaps and puts his head through a wall.

51 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

#4

The 16 Year Old: “So, I knew the stereotype about gay vampires, but I didn’t realize it was in the source material!”

66 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#3

GLORY TO UKRAINE, INDEED

https://youtu.be/kgOSrw9Q8rc

Alt text from Talia Levin’s Twitter:

From Z's old comedy troupe Kvartal 95. The song is called "Cossacks," about gay Cossacks. "Let's become gay! ... Tomorrow we're going to have a dance-off against the Russians! Ukraine has not yet perished, while we still have lard! Lard, borshch, onion, horseradish, let's drink."

Quote tweeting Troy Dougal, who observes, “Putin is getting humiliated by a man who did a Beyoncé-style dance in leather pants and heels. Legend.”

Guys, I just. I just really want this man to survive.

148 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#2

246 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I have NEVER seen anyone commit to a bit like Ewen Bremner did in this episode, I STAN.

527 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#surprised I generated that much original content #thank you vampire book club it was fun #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review

[bitchysongcomputer]

Making Weight by BearTrainer

From BeefyFrat Library, before it disappears.

"Hey, Manny, how’s it going?" I threw my backpack on the couch and went to the fridge for a nice cold beer, expecting to hear the normal response from my roommate who was as usual sitting on the couch, watching the ball game, but all that came back was silence. So I poked my head around the corner and said, more insistently, "Earth to Manuel. Earth to Manuel." A listless "hey" finally emerged from the form on the couch and popping open my Corona I did a double-take. Nope, he wasn’t asleep and didn’t look sick, but he did look strange, just staring into the space above the TV, foxy as ever in his little onionskin workout shorts and spaghetti strap tank top with his hard hairy pecs hanging out, big arms spread wide on the back of the couch. "Whassup, pardner?" I said, fearing he had gotten some kind of bad news. He looked at me over his shoulder. "Wait till you get this one, Teddy." He rolled his big brown eyes and raised his eyebrows. "You know we had the pre-season coaching meeting today, right?" "Uh huh. Right. Camp starts when?" I came around and sat across from him in the armchair, propping my legs up on the table and doing as I always did, looking at those massive dark thighs of his and trying to concentrate on what he was saying. "June 1. So we’re three months out, and so everything’s cool. I think, until then, that fat shit D’Amico pulls me aside—" "D’Amico?" Manny clenched his fists and gave a pissed-off punch to the back of the couch. "Yeah, D’Amico, he’s the conditioning coach. Big old pain in the ass tub of lard." I thought back to last season, taking a moment to figure out who he was talking about. Then, it came to me--mostly because watching that particular member of the training staff waddle back and forth behind the bench the whole season had been one of the highlights of freshman year for me. D’Amico was just my type, big-butted ex-jock turned coach, well over 300 lbs, with an arrogant strut, somewhat of a legend at the university among the football cognoscenti. "Oh, him," I tried to say innocently, as if I hadn’t spent nights jacking off about that big daddy ass. "Yeah, him. Well, he pulls me aside after the meeting and starts giving me all sorts of shit about my weight." "Your weight?" I put my beer down. "What are you talking about, Manny? You look fucking great!" Which was true—at an even 6 feet, and weighing in at a solid 192, Manny had sculpted himself into superb shape, not ripped, but well-muscled and beautifully proportioned. He was, of course, on the big side for a Puerto Rican, but his excellent speed and skills gave him just what he needed to serve as end for the front line. I had thought he had had quite a decent season last year, despite getting knocked pretty hard a few times. "That’s exactly it, Ted. Man!" He shook his head and beneath his anger I could see anxiety. "I was told today, by D’Amico, that if I didn’t weigh in on June 1 at 245 or above, they weren’t going to let me play." It took all of about three seconds for this piece of information to sink in, and I swallowed hard and tried to remain calm, saying nothing. "Right, you got it," he said, getting up from the couch and pacing furiously around the room. "Told me that they were disappointed at my performance last season, came close to getting injured to many times for them, plus the other teams in the conference are supposed to have these big bruisers on the line this year. So that fat shit tells me to day that they are worried about little guys like me and that I need to bulk up, otherwise they can’t let me on the field." "Little?" I squeaked, gulping down most of my beer to clear my throat. "Yeah, little. He actually had the balls to call me underfed. Said, ‘We can’t take a chance on underfed guys like you getting mauled. You need to get that weight up and you got three months.’ Pokes me in the fucking gut, goddamn asshole, like I was some little pussy." He slapped his stomach. "Right! Like I’m going to be able to put 50 pounds in three months. You know how long it took me to mass up in high school." I did indeed—and it was a golden age for me, serving Manny’s training partner as he went from normal to buffed, through constant, almost obsessive weight training starting sophomore year high school as part of his participation in our school’s championship team. In my own secret fantasies, of course, the whole time I was spotting him, telling him to put more weight on the bar, barking that he could do it, watching him lift and huff and strain, I had always wanted him to go the next step. I could see him, in my mind, start to fill out, let himself really get big, put some serious meat on those beautiful Puerto Rican bones of his. That’s what I saw when I closed my eyes--a nice comfortable layer of smooth soft fat over all that butch muscle; guys like that had always really turned me on, since childhood. But Manny’s Latin-male vanity had always held him back, and throughout his metamorphosis into hunk, he watched his diet and cardio workouts like a hawk. Fat ran in the family—his dad was a porker and so was his mom—and he was terrified of going that way. But now it seems, all my years of fervent prayers to the gainer gods had been answered. "Look, Manny. You gotta do what you gotta do." He looked quite forlorn. "I could quit the team." "Are you nuts? Quit the team because of a little weight. No way. I think you can do it." "I’ll be fucking fat as a house at 245, whaddaya kidding?" The situation required being clever, I realized if it was going to go the way I—and Coach D’Amico—wanted it to. So nonchalantly, I swigged the last of my beer and shrugged. "Listen to me, bud. You’re a big old hunk of muscle now. Let’s say you work out a little harder and eat some more in the next three months and I promise you you are going to look incredible. You don’t need to get fat, not if you hit the weights hard and eat right. You’ll be a huge muscle stud by the end. Promise. You’ll look like those bodybuilders. I swear. You got the potential. And what’s more, I’ll help." He calmed down a bit and paid attention, looking reassured that I was going to help, I think. "50 pounds is a lot of weight, Ted." "It is, that’s true," I leaned forward to do a great imitation of sincerity, all the while hatching my surreptitious strategy for getting Manny going in the direction I had long imagined. "But, let’s face it, even if you put on some fat, if you’re bulking out on muscle, it’s going to look good. No one’s going to fuck with you, Manny. You see those guys—they’re awesome." From the look on his handsome face, he seemed to be buying it. "Maybe you’re right. I’ll just do tons of sit-ups, eat nothing but protein, start split sets. It doesn’t need to go on my belly, does it?" "Not unless you let it, bud. Tell you what, Man. Let’s do it this way—you worry about the workouts and I’ll take care of the food. That way you can just concentrate on getting buffed and huge." He came over and sat on the arm of the chair, putting his arm around me. "You’d do that for me, Ted?" I shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Absolutely, Man. You’re my bud. I can’t let them kick you off the team. I was your training partner—I got to protect my investment." I nudged my elbow into his rib affectionately. "It’ll be a piece of cake. When we’re here in the apartment, I’ll make sure you get what you need. Protein shakes, sports bars, you name it. Then when we eat in the cafeteria, I’ll pick out everything for you, so you don’t get tempted to pig out. We can do it, I’m telling you." "D’Amico says I need to eat about 3 times the calories I normally do, told me I gotta get 6 meals in me every day. That’s half of what scares me. What do I know about food? But, Ted, if you take care of that, then, I don’t know, maybe you’re right. Maybe together we can do it." The concerned expression finally relaxed into his normally bright sexy smile. I laughed. "Six meals, no problem. You just do what I tell you to and you’ll make weight. Don’t worry. Besides, chicks like ‘em big." And with a wink, I poked him in the ribs again. He chuckled and wandered out into the kitchen where I heard a very encouraging sign, the sound of the top being popped off a Corona. "Hey!" he said, lifting the bottle in the doorway, "No time like the present, huh?" I had never systematically gone about fattening a man, but having had years and years of fantasies, I wasn’t too surprised at how easily it came to me, and I was especially pleased at how my competence at organizing this campaign allowed Manny let go and get into it. We established a strict training regime—daily weigh-ins recorded in his log, weekly tape measurements also recorded, twice daily work-outs about half of which I accompanied Manny to and spotted him through, the other half, he was on his own. Al of this was second nature to the two of us, having done pretty much the same thing through high school. It was his food intake that I soon learned was going to tax my reserves of imagination, because old habits died hard and Manny was used to denying himself stuff he felt was "unhealthy" or "fattening." The first week, for example, after watching him barely get down a couple of muffins and a glass of whole milk at breakfast, complaining the whole time about how he didn’t feel like eating so early in the morning, I put my thinking cap on and came up with an ingenious idea: once he was out of the house, I’d retrieve the low fat pastry boxes and skim milk cartons from the garbage, rinsing them out and fill them instead with full-fat breakfast cakes and just plain old half and half from the store down the corner. Would it work? Could I fool him into thinking it was the same stuff he was always eating? Manny was wearing nothing but his boxers and a hard-on when he came to the table the next morning, rolling out of bed at 9:00, stretching and yawning and groaning, scratching his belly. "I’m sore as a shit from these workouts, Ted." He flopped into the chair and looked resentfully at the empty plate. "Time to eat, huh?" I put the box of crumbcake and carton of milk in front of him very obviously, so he could see them both, and dished him up about a quarter of the cake, filling his big tumbler full. "Yep. All low fat, Manny, just the way you want it. Problem is, that means you need to eat twice as much," I lied. He picked up the slab of cake and bit into it, powdered sugar dusting his lips, pecs and belly, chewing slowly, still half-asleep, and knocking back a big gulp of the "milk." "Hmm, tastes good today for some reason. Usually this low-fat shit is dry." I busied myself at the sink. "Yeah, well, I thought I’d try a different brand this time. Sure, you don’t want some chocolate milk." To my surprise, before I had even turned around, he had finished the whole tumbler of milk in a single swallow and let out a little belch. "Boy, does that taste good! It’s like the milk is a little sweet or something." "Must be the sugar on the cake." "Hey, whatever." He reached for the second quarter of the cake. "As long as it’s low fat, I guess I’ll have another." "You know, Man, you should be eating regular food, not all this lowfat stuff, you know. You’ll never get there this way." "Heh heh. Just making your job harder, Ted, aren’t I?" He wolfed down the second piece of crumbcake and poured himself the rest of the milk, thinking he was being so smart. "Yup, very tasty. You know what you’re doing, don’t you, buddy." "Trust me, Manny. I know what I’m doing," which was true, because by the end of not even 15 minutes, he had polished off the entire box of cake, standing up and brushing the crumbs and sugar off his swollen little jockgut. "Guess you do. Man, if that lowfat stuff is so good, this is going to be a piece of cake. Get it? Piece of cake!" And patting his hairy stomach, he strutted off to the gym. Once I saw this incredibly useful technique had actually succeeded, I tried my luck with a few more surreptitious ways of getting those calories in him and, eventually, on him. Following the six-meal-a-day plan that the coach had suggested by adding mid-morning, mid-afternoon and late-night snacks between all of Manny’s regular meals, I soon needed to come up with some way of getting past my roommate’s resistance to eating between meals. "I’m still full from lunch," he’d groan at his desk studying in the afternoon, whe I’d show up with the protein shake or the sandwiches on a plate. "I can’t, Ted. Don’t make me." Clearly pre-emptive strikes would be needed to head off this whining, which was when I started tucking food in his gymbag before his morning workout without him knowing about it: nothing big at first, a couple of his favorite candybars, a few homemade cookies, just to see if he’d bite. He didn’t mention anything the first few weeks, but when I’d check, whatever I had snuck into his bag never seemed to be there when he came home around noon. Of course, he could be giving it away or throwing it out, so, one day, I decided to test him and accidentally on purpose forgot to put his little post-workout treat in his bag. He came home looking sort of gruff that day, though he was never particularly pleasant after the long tough weight training he was doing, usually laying down on the couch with a big "oof" right away and flipping on the tube, very tired, very sore and very crabby. That day, though, I thought I knew why he was a little more out of sorts than usual. "How was the workout?" I said from the desk across the room, where I pretended to be reading for my history class. "Okay, I guess." He didn’t look at me. There was a long pause. "Hey. You mad at me?" "What do you mean?" "I thought you were going to help me." He sat up and scowled, spreading his legs and putting his hands on his knees, the little pooch of a stomach he now had pressing out against the T-shirt and over the waistband of his shorts. I acted surprised. "I am helping you. What’s the problem?" "You know." He just sat there, looking hungry and grumpy. Then he raised his bushy eyebrows. "Why didn’t I get a snack today? Looked through my whole bag twice." I opened my mouth wide in mock-horror. "Oh, shit, I completely forgot. Wait a minute." And off I rushed into the kitchen where a dozen donuts waited in readiness, along with a quart of milk that had had a pint of fullfat chocolate ice cream blended into it, poured into three large bottles that had once held GNC protein shakes. "I’m sorry, Manny," I said, carrying it all in to him in front of the TV. "This is all we got. I bought these donuts for myself, knowing you probably wouldn’t want them, and the sport shakes were supposed to be your afternoon treat , man." "I’m starved, Ted. I busted ass in the gym. I need something. Gimme them donuts." He tore into them like there was no tomorrow. "It’s like my blood sugar drops or something at the end of these workouts. I gotta eat." I handed him a big napkin which threw over his lap and slammed down three cream-filled donuts ice with gooey chocolate icing, one after another. "Shakes," he said, holding his hand out like a doctor asking for a scalpel, mouth too full to talk. "Hope you like it. The protein powder they use in it makes it real thick. Hope you can get it down." Well, that turned out not to be much of a problem at all, as I watched my formerly vain, obsessively dieting jock of a roommate take the bottles, one after another, with both hands and suck down the rich liquid, Adam’s apple bobbing contentedly with every swallow, gut getting heavier and heavier in the now tight shirt. "Whaddaya nuts? It’s great," he said, letting out a huge belch, and wiping his wet mouth off with his forearm. "I don’t know, Ted. I think this whole program is working. I’m working out so hard, it’s like all I can think about is food—and yet" he leaned back, pulled up his shirt and started rubbing his stomach, "Like now, man. I’m so full it kind of hurts." I made a mental checkmark in my mind as I watched him try to massage his gut to make himself more comfortable, leaning forward so it hung down between his legs and rubbing it in long strokes from his sides to the front, like he was trying to make more room. Guess that little trick worked, I congratulated myself. And now that he had gotten used to feeding till it hurt, perhaps my job would get easier and easier. Manny saw 200 come and go on the scale after two weeks, almost as if his poor body was grateful for finally being given everything it wanted in the way of food and more, and in another two weeks, I was thrilled to see 215 appear on the scale—a 20 pound gain in a little less than a month. The effect of this quick and sudden blimping was electrifying to me, as I watched every piece of clothing in his wardrobe suddenly look as if it had shrunk almost overnight. What had been formerly loose T-shirts Manny now had to firmly yank down to cover the spread of his belly, and where lean tight lats had once narrowed into a waist, substantial love handles were now sprouted above widening hips. The view from the back was incredibly hot, his asscheeks getting full and high, his whole form growing square and squat—thank God he couldn’t see the bulky figure he was cutting from this angle, otherwise I’m sure he would have gotten freaked out. I loved watching him get off the scale in the morning and with a huge intake of air, suck in his stomach to get his shorts fastened. It was clear to me that his buttons and zippers weren’t long for this world, most of them at the end of that first month hanging precariously by a thread, seams showing up the legs of his pants and shirts, 33" waistlines struggling to contain what the tape measure now recorded as a 37" circumference. Manny had little choice at this point but to hike his pants down now under his gut, and what with the size of his backside, swollen from eating and endless high-weight squatting, a pair of hairy thighs quickly bulked into massiveness, and that big cock of his trapped inside, his basket stood out prominently, almost on display, all the pressure of the tight clothes and extra flesh giving him what looked to me like a perpetual hard-on. He wasn’t the only one with one of those, of course, which was why I didn’t challenge his vanity and suggest that he splurge and buy some clothes that fit him. I was having way too much fun watch him bust slowly out of the ones he was wearing, and in fact, the few times he successfully wrangled his girth into that pair of Levis he used to just slip on before class, I waited practically drooling for him to come back, waited to see him do what had now become the first thing he did always did when stepping in the door—reach down, bust open the waist band, letting his gut spill out with a huge sigh of relief before heading off to the kitchen, like the obedient jockgainer, to see what treats awaited him there. Along about mid-month, though, just when everything was going so smoothly, I thought, another form of resistance began to arise. Spending most days between kitchen, class and gym, the two of us usually hit the school cafeteria for dinner, and I did as I had promised to with him. He’d go to our usual table, joined with two or three of regular friends, jock groupies, while I would hit the food line for him, piling up at least two or three plates for him, samples of everyone of the three entrees they offered each night, a couple glasses of milk, and waiting till he was mostly done with these before going back for one of each of the three desserts. I had learned if you pushed too much food at him too quick, he’d balk, so I took my time and acted very casual and matter-of-fact, and if he said he only wanted one or two of the entrees I had brought, I’d pretend to nibble on the one he left as my own dinner, leaving most of it purposefully in front of me, saying something like, "Man, this is so good, but I can’t finish it," and pushing it over to him. He’d laugh sheepishly as he invariably dug into my leftovers. "You know what my mom always said. Food doesn’t have any calories if you eat it off someone else’s plate," and down the hatch would go my french fries, my macaroni and cheese, my onion rings, or my slabs of meatloafs. However, around about the middle of the second month, he had begun to come home from the afternoon workout, dump down his regular "sport shake"-- half-and-half and every brand of ice cream Haagen-Dazs made—and then completely conk out. "Time for dinner," I’d announce at 6:00 p.m., shaking his shoulders, but when, twice in a row, looking up groggily, he said, "Sorry, bud, not tonight," I knew I would have provide some sort of incentive. "You gotta help me, guys," I said to Hank and Bill, sitting down that night at the usual table, our two most regular dinner partners. "Where’s Manny the man?" asked Hank. "Not like him to miss dinner." Bill snickered. "Especially lately." He looked at me quizzically. "Is it my imagination or is Manny getting—you know—like big?" I played it cool, knowing both Hank and Bill were good for doing what needed to be done—not especially bright and real jock-admirers. "Well, dudes, this is the deal. Manny’s got to weigh in at 245 by June 1 or he’s off the team." The two of them looked at me surprised. "No way," said Hank, "So that’s what all that’s about. We were wondering what was going on—you feeding him here like there’s no tomorrow, him looking like a fucking stuffed pig. It’s like part of his training. Oh now I get it." "And—" I lied, "If he’s off the team, he’s out of school, because of the scholarship he’s got." This wasn’t true, but I had to make the stakes seem high. "I’m training him, you know, bulking him out but he’s really hating it. Doesn’t want to come to dinner." Maybe I underestimated Bill, because across his normally dumb-looking face appeared the flicker of an idea. "Don’t worry, Ted. I know what to do to get him here. Go get his dinner." And off he went to the phones. Hank shook his head. "Teddy, man. You should have told us. We could have helped." I continued the act. "Well, you know, Manny’s kind of self-conscious and all. You can’t say I said anything." Hank lifted a dinner roll and waved it. "Hey, baby, we’re cool. Won’t say a thing." Mystified at Bill, I did as he said and piled on the grub—that night was a gooey and very filling cheese souffle, fried chicken, and Manny’s particular favorite, sloppy joes. I made sure the plates were loaded, ready and waiting, and I wasn’t back at the table more than a minute when suddenly who should appear by the big guy himself, looking perky and eager, waddling up to the table. We all made a big fuss, but Manny was having none of it, wearing a sexy smile. "So, Bill?" Bill looked too innocent to be true. "You were too slow, baby. She took off." Manny swung himself into the chair and automatically started in on the souffle while he was talking, conditioned to see food and eat it by now. "Whaddaya mean, she took off?" he asked, cheese dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. Hank and I watched the scene and tried not to laugh. "Yeah, she took off, didn’t she, guys? Maria from the bookstore, you know, that babe. She was asking for you but you took too long to get your big ass here, she couldn't wait." Hank played his part well, that I had to give to him. "And she looked real disappointed you weren’t around. I mean, she came over here and explicitly asked us where you were." The idea of Maria asking after him seemed to have a magic effect on Manny’s appetite, and with a big gesture, he used the largest piece of fried chicken to swab off the cheese from the empty souffle plate and chomped away. "She’s so hot, ain’t she?" "I told you, Man," I said, removing the empty plate and pushing the sloppy joes under his nose. "Chicks like big guys." Bill winked. "Maria does, I guess." Manny looked up from his plate for a second, eying the three of us suspiciously, spoon poised over the food for a second, but then the aroma of the meat and the sauce seemed to seduce him and whatever suspicions he had seemed to vanish as he shoveled his third entree into his belly. Hank stood up and after winking at me when Manny wasn’t looking, asked nonchalantly, "Say, you know, watching you eat has made me hungry, again. Anyone want anything? I’m going up to the line. Manny? More sloppy joes? Chicken?" He wasn’t able to speak, mouth full, so he just grunted an eager "yes," still scanning the room for Maria, and I sat back, pleased that yet another little ploof mine had worked. "Guess you won’t be missing dinner again, will you, buddy?" I kidded him, patting his belly and making sure Bill was watching. "How about you get us all some dessert, Bill?" I said with a sly smile. "They got that triple-layer chocolate cake tonight and rice pudding. Why don’t you bring enough for all of us? You don’t want any dessert, do you, Manny? Huh?" Bill could barely contain his laughter as he walked away toward the cafeteria line and neither could I. Still shaking his head, now craning to see where Hank was with his fourth, fifth and sixth plates of dinner, Manny ran his tongue over his teeth. "Fuck, man. I been trying to talk to her all year. I can’t believe I missed her." Needless to say, Manny never missed another dinner at the cafeteria, and with Hank and Bill helping me out, my life had gotten a lot easier. By May 1, Manny’s progress was impressive. He had his stride in food consumption, easily packing away three times what I ate and still capable of feeling hunger late at night, especially if I spent the time after dinner baking up some brownies or a pie, anything to make the whole apartment smell delicious. Getting that food in him before bed was certainly going a long way to fattening him good, and I knew he’d have no problem weighing in at least 245 in a month. Nevertheless, for fear all his old resistance might take over and dash my plans, I knew I couldn’t let down my guard. So during the weekly "taping" as we called it, me throwing the tape measure around his neck, chest, arms, waist, thighs and calves, and then writing all the numbers down in the book he was keeping, I made a big deal about looking at the previous week’s measurements and clucking my tongue, till he picked up on it. "What’s wrong, Ted?" I paused, as if I looked disappointed. "Nothing, really. It’s just that. . . ." I let my voice trail off. "What, man? Tell me." He stood in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of posing trunks that he used to always wear to the pool for maximum tanning, his asscheeks now hanging out in back, a generous spare tire of flab gathering on top, above the hands that rested on his broad hips. "Well, look here." I showed him the numbers. "This week you really haven’t made any progress." He shook his head, his soft hairy pecs jiggling slightly. "Ted, I swear. I don’t know how that could happen. I mean, I’m pressing 375, 400. My decline leg press is something like 800 pounds. I really can’t do any more weight work that I am doing." He looked at himself in the mirror. "I mean, I look bigger. Don’t I?" He took the sight of himself in, standing there bursting out all over like the Michelin man, and I noticed his cock getting hard—a very good sign. "Well," I tsked. "The tape doesn’t lie." "Fuck, man." He sat down on the bed, all the rolls of his new tender fat gathering and quivering slightly, as he put his head in his hands. "What am I going to do?" "I don’t know, Manny. I mean, I hate to say it, but I think you are going to have to eat more and rest more." It was a measure of my success that this suggestion didn’t meet with what would have been, at one time, furious objections. He simply looked up and listened. "Or maybe you are working out too hard. All the magazines say that when the bodybuilders rest more, decrease their frequency of workouts, their muscles get a better chance to build back up. You might want to cut back on the weight work. You may not be giving your muscles a chance to grow." I tried to seem casual as I wandered over to the dresser and handed him the high-calorie "protein" bar I had placed there earlier—actually a hazelnut cream filled chocolate peanut bar I had gotten from the candy place just off campus, which I slipped into the wrong wrapped and pretended to open with my back turned. He ate it dutifully, automatically putting in his mouth whatever I handed him at this point, biting off most of it at once and all those satisfied little sounds he now regularly made as he ate. "You know, I heard that, too. In fact, the coaches all said that, last year. ‘Quality, not quantity.’ That’s what they said." He swallowed his mouthful and popped the rest of it in. "Good shit. Hard to believe how good this protein food is, these days. So you think I should cut out some of the workouts." "This is what I’d do. One workout a day—in the morning. Come home. Eat. Take a nap. Then don’t do much. Laze around. Study. I heard one bodybuilder call it a ‘power nap.’ He said if you sleep right after eating right after a workout, the muscle gains are incredible. And I think you should only work out every other day. I think you’re overtraining, man." "Sounds good." Manny tried to unstick some of the peanuts from the back of his teeth with a chunky finger. "Let’s do that for a couple of weeks and see what happens. ‘Sides, I’m beat." He scooted himself up into bed and sprawled out. "No gym today. I’m sick of those fucking weights anyway." I massage his shoulders from the back, checking out the way his big soft tits moved, looking straight down what was becoming a very fine fatboy cleavage. "Yeah, I think that’s it, Man. You gotta relax. You been working hard. Don’t worry, we’ll get you off the plateau." He closed his eyes and I could feel him soften under my strong hands. "You want another protein bar?" He looked so sweet in the mirror, like a big hungry babyman. "Two. Bring me two," he said, full lips and cheeks pouting a little. "Will do." And I remember thinking, on the way to the kitchen, that I hoped he never found out that the plateau he was on was all my own doing: I had deliberately written down the wrong numbers the week before, reducing all his measurement by an inch, just to give him a little bit more incentive this week. Another part of my devious plan, but evidently quite effective. I grabbed two more "protein bars" and thought that maybe my trainee needed a little something to wash it down with. Hard choice: chocolate pudding blended with whipping cream—a concoction I passed off as a "sportshake"—or his normal favorite, "low fat" half and half? Rationalizing his laziness as rest and with his capacity for consumption now permanently increased through the continual belly-busting he was doing at every meal, not to mention my slipping him fattening foods disguised as healthy eats, the final phase of Manny’s pre-season training program proceeded with spectacular results. As exams approached, of course, both of us spent a lot of time at home anyway, and most mornings, my now enormous roommate would rarely wake up before 10, put away one of the sizable breakfasts I fixed for him--stacks of pancakes, cheese and bacon omelettes with a dozen eggs, breakfast hash loaded with potatoes and butter—after which he’d lumber off for his workout, pigging out fully on lunch, settling into to the armchair in the living room to doze, study and veg out for the afternoon, before rising with a grunt for dinner. Every day the scale recorded a gain of at least a pound or two, due in part to the slowdown in exercise but I think also due to a completely arbitrary rule that I decided to establish for his training at home—the "you open it, you finish it" rule. More than perhaps any other of my techniques, this particular one made things very easy on Manny, who clearly was not inclined to think much anymore, trusting me fully to have his best interests in mind. This rule required that if a box, carton or can of food were opened for a meal, he was required to finish it, and it had the effect I hoped it would: being simple to follow, it was responsible for at least doubling his intake het again. No more bowls of cereal—now whole boxes would be consumed on a daily basis. No more slices of pepperoni pizza at night in front of the tube—now the entire pizza was what was expected. The elegant simplicity of having finish anything and everything put in front of him was what I think made it work for Manny who complied with a surprising lack of resistance. By mid-May, what had once been a fine hunk of muscle and strength now looked like a powerlifter crossed with Pillsbury doughboy. His shoulders were so broad that he had to pay atttention not to clipped the sides of the door as he went through or turned corners, unused to his size. His legs had grown bulky enough for him to have to navigate one in front of the other with care, and he walked at this point with his chest thrown forward, leaning back a little, to balance the girth he was now carrying in the gut. Having put on 45 pounds, he had to spend sometimes fifteen or twenty minutes trying to squeeze himself into something he could wear out—even the elastic waistbands of all his workout clothes were stretched tight and no amount of tugging or stretching would make some of his shirts cover his gut. Between the mass of his arms and the girth of his pecs, all his button-down shirts gapped and yawned, creasing into deep folds around all the flesh, looking more like stretch wrap than clothes. After hearing him huffing and puffing and finally collasping hopelessly on the bed unable to find anything that fit, I was afraid the inconvenience of the clothes would sabotage all my care and feeding over the months, so I suggested blithely that it looked like it was time for a new wardrobe. "Let’s face it, Manny. You need to get some things you feel comfortable in." He had to laugh, half-embarassed, half proud, at the rightness of what I was telling him. After all, his belly spilling out from a pair of size 32’s that no longer could even be buttoned underneath it, his cotton plaid shirt hanging like a handkerchief on the sides of his torso. "Guess it’s going to be size 40s and XL for me." I raised my eyebrows. "Hey, bubba, you still have 5 pounds to go before you make weight. Better leave some growing room." Needless to say, the eroticism of this whole process verged on the intolerable for me. I had always had the hots for Manny, ever since junior high, which was one of the reasons I had befriended when his family had moved into town. But now, watching him blimp to this extent under my direction, it was sometimes difficult to maintain my own concentration on my schoolwork. As he was spending more and more time sacked out in front of the TV, I found myself with even less time to jack off about him unobtrusively, which I used to do while he was out, humping the pillows in my bed and whispering his name to myself till I came, sometimes three or four in a row. I was a prisoner of my own success to some extent as well, since, having conditioned him to expect and even demand that he be fed and watered on a neary hourly basis, like some prize piece of beef I was fattening, I couldn’t very well ruin my own plans by excusing myself for a a couple hours of "fun" in the bedroom the way I used to and leave him sitting there, hungry and with nothing to eat. So I confined myself to one load a day over him, usually at night, which kept me on the edge that I needed—not too much satisfaction, but never, never enough. What I couldn’t figure out, of course, was how I was going to bring this jockgainer over to my side, how I was going to take down that last little bit of resistance and fulfill my own secret desires. I had managed to get him past many of his own limits and now that we were in the home stretch, one last bright idea would be needed to cement the relationship that I had really wanted with him all along. It was the day he brought home his new clothes that the fates intervened. Waddling into the door wearing enormous baggy cotton shorts and a huge black T-shirt, Manny’s face was flushed, and not just from the effort of clothes shopping. He was cute as he fumbled around the kitchen, making himself three sandwiches and flipping on the gameshows he watched while he dozed in the afternoon. "Went well?" I asked He fed shamelessly now, propping the plate on his belly, shoving the food in with one hand, downing his sportshakes with the other, a two-fisted eater. "Oh, yeah. Went real well." Something was up—that I could tell, because he was eating like a crazy man, red as a beet, looking like he was about to pop, and though trying to pretend to be watching the contestants on TV, he was actually literally squirming around on the couch. I stood up and walked over to him. "Anything you want to tell me about?" Crumbs dotted his lips as he looked up. "It’s kind of embarassing, actually," and the blush continued to spread down his neck and the top of his chest. "Well?" I smiled. He gulped. "You are not going to believe this, but. . . . So, there I am, at the mall, figuring I might as well do like you said, get some real big clothes. So I go into that Old Navy outlet store, pick out a few things, decide to try them on." He wolfed down another half sandwich and swallowed hard, still squirming. "Anyway, so there’s this real cute salesgirl there, little older than us, you know, but real cute, brunette, and she’s helping me. Naturally, I feel like a huge fucking blimp at this point, so it’s not like I’m coming on to her at all. Anyway, I notice she’s like hanging out around the dressing rooms and I even—Christ, I can’t believe this—I even catch her like trying to peek and watch me. I mean, it just blows my mind. These are chicks that wouldn’t even pay attention to me if I begged them." "So you think she was like turned on by you being so big. . . ." "She was, man. She definitely was." He was practically panting at the memory of it, a little breathless as he dumped down the rest of the gainershake I had had ready for him. "And you know how I know?" "How?" And he rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of Hershey’s kisses. "She put these into my bag. I found them when I got in the car." I bust out laughing. "Got you all hot and bothered, didn’t she? Didn’t know that chicks dig fat guys, did you, Manny?" He kneaded his crotch furiously, trying to rearrange his hardon between his thighs and belly, which given all the fat was more than a little bit of a struggle. "And it’s been a fucking long time since Manny’s had anything that fine. What with all this training. I mean, Ted, it’s like I am so horny. I don’t know what’s with me." This was my chance, and I knew it. So I just sat and prodded a little, lowering my voice. "Horny? I thought you were tired all the time." He licked the crumbs off the plate and threw it on the table, grunting loudly as he hefted himself off the couch, and started pacing, belly bouncing in front of him, big basket obviously large and heavy with lust. "Yeah, I am, but it’s also like, I mean, I don’t know how to say it. It’s like I’m just like real sensitive. It’s like everything makes me horny these days. With all this weight on me and constantly feeding myself, it’s like I feel so good, all I want to do is get off. And of course, I thought, well, no one would ever look at me now, but here this girl, this really cute girl, too, comes on to me." He looked like he was going to burst into tears from thwarted desire, pawing at his crotch like an animal. "Man, you can’t believe the things I was thinking on the way home." "Bet I could," I said, deciding to make my move, and reaching over to the table where he had put the pile of Hershey’s kisses, peeling the first one slowly as he watched. "Hungry for something sweet, Manny?" I smiled lasciviously, teasing him. He slowly walked over to where I was sitting, looking at me straight in the eye, one hand on his crotch, undoing the zipper. "Big guy like you has gotta a have a little relief, doesn’t he?" He shook his head sadly, "Oh Ted, man, I’m sorry, you’re like my best friend and all, but like," his voice was hoarse with shame and uncontrollable desire. "I gotta do this. I can’t stand it. You gotta help me, or I’m going to lose my mind." He was pathetic. He was beautiful. I reached up to give him the nugget of chocolate, and silently, he pulled his huge prick out of the confines of his shorts, and began stroking, sinking to his knees next to me. "Hey man it’s OK. Whatever you gotta do, do it. You gotta make weight, buddy. Just remember that. You gotta make weight." I popped the Hershey’s kiss into his mouth. "It’s between friends, man. Don’t worry." He was panting at this point with his eyes closed, mouth open for more chocolate, not looking at me, just concentraing on his own pleasure, hand flying like a piston over the dark, wet uncut cock of his I had seen and drooled over a thousand times. I put my hand on the back of his head and began stroking him like a dog, scratching his glossy dark hair affectionately. "Just let it go, Manny. Enjoy yourself. It’s between us. Whatever it takes, man. Whatever it takes. I’m here for you." He was making little gurgling sounds by this point, his soft gut quivering and his big hips thrusting his cock into his fist as his shorts fell to the floor, revealing a pair of enormous hunching thighs. "I’m sorry, Ted. Man, I’m sorry. But I gotta. . .. I just. . . . fucking. . . gotta." And the moment he went over the edge he looked straight into my eyes with a look of combined shock, relief and hunger, as if this was the first orgasm he had ever had, looking straight at me, wild and happy and afraid of what this all meant. I am not ashamed to say that I took advantage of him then, too, my best friend, a big guy reduced by his appetite and lust on his knees in front of me, thinking about nothing about his own pleasure. Shoving a half dozen kisses in his open mouth, I put my hand right up under his shirt, tenderly pulling on his huge swollen pointed nipples, first one and then the other, as if he trying to milk his cock dry using nothing but his fatboy tits. He moaned at this and moved closer to me, loving the feeling, staring glassy-eyed from pleasure right into my eyes. When he came, he actually yelped, shooting load after load on to the floor, onto his thighs, all over his hands, his overfed body quaking from top to bottom with ecstasy, yelping and yelping, as I started to laugh. It was so ridiculous and so incredibly fine—it was the fulfillment of a dream and the beginning of another. His orgasm lasted forever at the end of it, despite myself and my own attempts at control, I found myself holding the back of his bull neck and with two quick thrusts, came furiously into my own pants, while a huge smile spread across his face, enjoying the sight of me, for once, losing control, hanging on to him like my life depended on it. Soaked and smelling of manhood, we both started laughing hysterically from the sheer relief of it all, and as our laughter faded, he leaned over and put his head face down on the couch next to me, his wide back patched with sweat, the sound of his breathing deep and satsified. I could smell the chocolate on his breath. "Looks like you needed that, bubbaman." "You are a fine one to talk. Looked like you’ve been waiting a long time for that one, huh?" I raised my eyebrows and stroked his hair. "Guess you found out all my little secrets today, didn’t you?" "Guess I did, baby." He gulped and exhaled, wiping his mouth with his paw. "I think I’m losing it, Ted. I’m like really losing it." I reached down and grabbed two big handfuls of flab from around his waist. "I don’t know, Man. Looks more to me like you’re gaining it." "Five pounds to go, huh?" He nuzzled the side of my leg, making no movement to get away from my grasp. "For the team, yeah." I fondled him, rolling all his soft flesh between my fingers, murmuring softly. "But I think you could do better than that." He closed his eyes. "I keep seeing 275 on that scale." "It’d be a lot of work, bigguy." He looked up, fat face bright with desire. "You help?" I ran my fingers over his full lips. "What are friends for, Manny, after all. What are friends for."