BHM Bet On Growth - by WillSpark (~BHM (Multiple), ~~WG, Stuffing)

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:


King Of The Robo-Sluts
Nov 3, 2008
~BHM (Multiple), ~~WG, Stuffing – Two friends make a friendly bet in hopes of getting their minds off their relationship woes.

Bet on Growth
By WillSpark

[Author’s Note:] goes. This is my first attempt at a story for this site. I have some other writing stuff but this is my first designated here goes.

So wait a second. Why am I here? A dim room, a couple beakers on the shelves, that ominous whirring noise just chugging away...And so am I. This tube isn't exactly letting me stop. I had only wanted quick results. It was only a couple pounds, right? Well, okay, it was more...a lot more than that.

It started simply. Two weeks ago I was talking to my best friend, Dan about our respective love lives. We had both come out of relationships that were rocky up until the very end, which were explosions in and of themselves. My girlfriend, Claire; even her name bristles the hair on my arms now; had been sleeping around. Dan had his boyfriend, Jeremy, break up with him over religious differences; Jeremy had been a strong Christian, and Dan as a gay agnostic felt betrayed by the belief system that had kept his family from accepting his sexuality.

"Screw those bitches anyway."

I find having a gay best friend is both hilarious and comforting at the same time.

"If she wants to screw around then so be it. We don’t need relationships anyway,” Dan said over a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. For two guys, we both sure reacted in the most girly ways. Where most guys would go out and get wasted and try for a rebound lay, we were content to sitting around moping and drowning our sorrows in food. I blamed my doughy physique on that mentality, and I partially blamed my physique for causing my girlfriend to cheat. When I mentioned this, though, Dan scoffed it away.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Sweets. You’re just a real guy. Would you rather have my skinny-ass bone structure?”


“Shut up. You know what we should do? We should just get fat,” he suggested

“Yeah, and then we should get plastic surgery to ugly our faces up a bit,” I responded sarcastically.

“I’m serious. We could spite our exes and then if we find someone it won’t be about looks.”

I was worried. Once Dan got an idea in his head it becomes tough to stop.

“Sure. Good luck with that,” I said, eating the last bite of my ice cream. My stomach knew I had had too much, but my soul still needed refilling. “I need another bowl…”

“See? You’re a natural! C’mon, it’d be fun. We could just lounge around doing nothing, and not care about what other people think. We could have contests, even make it a bet.”

My ears perked up. “A bet? What kind of bet?”

“Well…how about whoever puts on the most weight in a month pays the other a dollar per pound gained?”

“I like the idea, but if we’re getting fat I want some real cash. How about a dollar per pound of the total weight of the winner? Oh, and extend the time…let’s make it 3 months.”

“Wills, my friend, you drive a hard bargain.” He contemplated the idea awhile. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He reached over, shook my hand, and dug into the carton of ice cream.

“Hey! Save some for me you pig!”

“Not a chance, porky!” He laughed.

And so it began. The next day we measured up. I was a hefty 210lbs at 5’10’’, while Dan was a shrimpy 120lbs on his 5’8’’ frame. It was October 28th, so we decided we had until the end of January to end the bet. The only ground rules were that we had to measure at the end of the day to make sure we are at our heaviest, and that fat jokes were mutually allowed. I mean, who doesn’t love a good fat joke in jest?

Actually, I should describe us a bit more before we go further, huh? I, Will, am a fairly tall, stocky guy. My love of food has rendered me pretty pudgy and my hair is light brown with a wavy curl, at least, that’s how Dan describes it. My general inactivity and lack of care for exercise left me with some spare pounds, but for some reason, my body configuration has left me with a weirdly exaggerated hourglass shape, my pudge collecting on top of my pecs, built up from my high school years on the swim team, and then cascading directly into a pair of love handles, essentially giving me two pillows on my chest and a donut ring of it around my lower torso. I also have hazel eyes, love long walks on the beach, gourmet dining, and planning for a zombie apocalypse.

Dan refers to himself as my anti-half. Shorter with blonde spiky hair and impeccable fashion sense, he prides himself on being a perfect representation of his stereotype, which I always found odd yet amusing. But when that guy gets serious, he will, in his own words, “rip off this weave” and take you down. Honestly we became friends after he took down some guy in a bar for harassing me because he thought I was cute. We became roommates soon after even though he’s not quite my type (I prefer them to not have a Y chromosome). He’s also built…well, built in the sense that he wears skin-tight all the time and has decent muscles to show, but nothing overly impressive. He’s pretty much a twig. You’d think he’d have trouble gaining weight, but I’ve seen him pack on some decent Christmas poundage before. This bet is going to be difficult. He also has blue eyes, loves shoes, Beyonce, and deciding what kind of clothes would be zombie-chic in the zombie apocalypse. He’s predicting torn shirts and heavy weaponry will be all the rage.

The very first couple weeks were really entertaining. We started out slow – sort of. We’d order and extra pizza here, another portion of takeout there, and each Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, we’d go out and fill up on one of two all-you-can-eat buffets; Murphy’s AYCE Global Steakhouse, and Osaka’s Asian Buffet. Murphy’s dominated the steak realm, offering everything from Porterhouses, to bacon-wrapped fillet mignons, to the most amazing and tender and mouth-melting Kobe beef in the region. Combine that with huge portions and never ending rolls, okra, and every possible way you could make a potato (thrice baked? I didn’t even know that was a thing!), and you’ve got a way for us to always and consistently come home groaning and weary from the night’s repast.

Meanwhile, Osaka’s had another thing going for it – pure, unadulterated, delicious junk! No one could beat out Osaka’s in serving up the most delicious food in the area without a single health-option. Want wanton dumplings? Crisp, greasy, and fried to perfection! Shrimp? Same deal! Anything at all that’s chicken? You bet, same thing! Even the noodles couldn’t escape and all they served by way of rice was fried with meats mixed in for good measure. And that doesn’t even begin to cover the desserts. But above all else was their sauce. Oh my GOD, their sauce. This…this concoction of amazingness slathers everything it touches with the single most flavor-enhancing design ever. On its own, it tastes a bit like a sweetened yet spicy cream soup, and trust me, they could serve it as a soup, but somehow when added to food it just brings out everything that’s right about it. They even let you take it home by the carton because they are so confident that it will keep you coming back. And they know that no one will decipher the concoction that makes their claim to fame. I love it so much I have come to be on speaking terms with the hostess and owner of the restaurant, Mary.

Of course, we did have Halloween to take care of first off. So we went out, bought a ton of chocolate for the trick-or-treaters, and then ate most of it ourselves. We had lots of fun seeing who could eat what how fast or how much. I, being bigger already, had the bigger appetite, but he was putting up a good fight. He was always a better drinker, though, so he had those empty calories going for him.

And so it went for the first weeks of the bet. We had our first official weigh-in November 14th, with me stepping on the scale first. At this point my stomach had started to expand out a bit, and my love-handles had grown. I had also begun to feel snugness in the legs of my jeans and around the chest and lower gut of my shirts. That morning I had decided that by next week I needed the next size up on my pants, if not one more, as the waistband of my current pair dug in very uncomfortably. I currently stood in just my boxers, on the scale, reading a number I didn’t quite comprehend as my own.

235 lbs. I had no Idea where it came from, well, at least I didn’t understand how it could have happened that much. 25 pounds in a little more than 2 weeks? That doesn’t seem right. Most freshman gain ten less than that in an entire year, yet here I was, looking at 25 extra pounds.

In my shell-shock, Dan had already stepped up. He had filled out pretty heavily too. His entire being was built up all around. You could see the loss of definition and hint of jiggle in everything. Most noticeable, was the inkling of a double chin forming, and you could see a slight bowing at his waist where love handles may be in a couple more pounds. Most impressively, his butt was noticeably softer and larger, currently squeezed by a tight pair of red briefs. It didn’t bug me. We lounged like this all the time, even more so nowadays, and we both knew I was secure enough in my sexuality not to care.


I was stricken from my appraisal by a high-pitched yelp from my friend. He was staring at the number, just barely balancing, yet appearing set in stone. I leaned over to get a good look…

“Huh…wha?” I trailed off. I don’t see how, but I could see where.

“Thirty more pounds looks good on you,” I commented. Slowly with a morbid grin, Dan stepped down off the scale and turned to me.

“I’m in the lead,” he said with a voice too serious for him. “It shouldn’t be physically possible. 150 lbs already?” He looked down and prodded at his new pudge in gross contemplation.

“You’re not considering backing out already, are you?” I asked.

His expression turned up and sarcastic. “Bitch, please. If I was going to spiral into depression AND owe you 235 bucks it would be because you’re my therapist, not because of a couple measly pounds. We’re still way on and I ain’t backin’ out!” He threw in a snap for good measure, and that was that. We dove back into our routine, obscenely aware of our newfound growth and anticipating the months to come.

[Author's Note:] Part Dos coming soon hopefully.
Comments are greatly appreciated!

Latest posts