Male Weight Gain Fiction Novels & Stories

“I’m just overthinking, I don’t want to bother you…” “You can never be a bother, you know that. So tell me what you’re overthinking about.” “It’s just…I’ve just been reading about the changes my body would go through in the coming months and I…I’m scared it might too much for me. I even read that some women put on so much weight when they’re pregnant.” “That wouldn’t be bizarre if it happens, I mean, you’re forming a life in there…” “What if too much weight makes me less attractive?” “If you must read things online, can you try to read more positive things?” I asked.

Marlene herself was seventy-something — the something was doing real work; she could have been seventy-two or seventy-nine and neither would have surprised Eleanor — and had the physical bearing of a woman who had been on her feet for fifty years and intended to remain there. She wore the same style of apron every day, white with a small blue check, and she moved behind the counter with an efficiency so practiced it had become something close to art: no motion wasted, no surface left unwiped, the coffee always coming before you’d quite decided you wanted more.

My boyfriend, Jason Miller, kept going, his voice full of contempt. “Can you stop eating already? You’ve got a double chin now. You look like a pig. And you seriously think I’m supposed to propose to you looking like that? “I’m telling you right now, if you don’t get down to 100 pounds, forget about marriage.” I looked at myself in the mirror, still trying to steady myself after the shock of hearing a cat’s thoughts. I was five foot six and weighed a hundred and twenty-one pounds. That was a perfectly healthy, normal weight. But the way Jason talked, you’d think I was huge.

Sadly, I discovered that I had gained another four pounds instead of losing weight. My once slender body now felt more curvaceous. Yesterday, when I met Wendy, she said I looked radiant and glowing. Wendy's sincere compliment made me waver in my resolve to diet again. "Is Ms. Middleton worried about troubling me or Mr. Walker?" "Neither!" I couldn't explain to Marianne, so I lied, "I've gained weight recently, and my clothes don't fit well anymore. If I keep eating like this, I'm afraid I'll turn into a roly-poly."

We ended the conversation on a high note, and after the way, Holland left me feeling I had needed that. I watched CNN before Housewives for a while, trying to catch up on recent world events. Holland's behavior and the obscure words he said appeared calculated and left me uneasy. I kept my handgun beside me with the safety off and ensured my security system was set. I started to nod off when my food finally arrived. It was a little after 9 in the evening, and I was chomping down my pizza like it was both my first and last meal. I was starting to feel full only after about two square-cut slices. My stomach ached, felt bloated, and made me uncomfortable. I munched on the salad and downed some

Her once tight, muscular ass was far more round and thick than she would like it to be and her 36D breasts had grown a full cup size larger with her weight gain. Still, there were no two ways about it. Liz was hot. Built like Jordan Carver, she still drew the eye and sexual attention of every straight man that saw her, including her husband. Matt, thought she was the sexiest thing on earth. He often complimented her by telling her she was like a tall, blonde p**n star. He enjoyed having sex with her on a regular basis. Her desire to please him was the reason she was trying to lose weight in the first place, despite his compliments.

A girl at the table had even mocked her, asking if she wasn’t afraid of getting fat. Back then, Julissa had arrogantly declared she was the type who never gains weight no matter what. But who really never gains weight? She eventually plumped up a bit and even hit 100 lbs. Every time she weighed herself, she’d get upset, but Scott would just hug her waist, lift her up and say, “Still manageable. A little more weight won’t hurt.” Thinking about all that, Julissa scratched her head sheepishly. “He does seem to enjoy watching me eat…”

After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant—my mafia husband treated me like his queen. Every day felt like heaven, until she came back—his first love, Eloise Rosenveil. On his birthday, after answering Eloise’s usual call, he turned to me and said softly, “Darling, you’ve been working so hard carrying our child. There’ll be too many people at the party—I don’t want you to get hurt.” But that day wasn’t just his birthday.

"I mean, I'm sure you'd never let that happen." "Maybe not. But I gotta stay vigilant." His forehead wrinkled. "Did you know there's a thing where dads gain weight? It's like a sympathy symptom deal." "Oh, my God, I'd love to see that." I had a mental image of Noah with a baby bump, hands on his back as he moaned and groaned. "Maybe you should eat this cannoli." "You're evil." He scowled. "I'm planning to hold onto my girlish figure."

Even my cock is thicker. I feel like I’ve stepped out of a lake. That kind of unfamiliar heaviness. I shake out my arms and draw down a deep breath. There’s no need to freak out. I’m fine. It’s normal. Mated males fill out. Max said he gained twenty pounds of muscle and an inch in girth overnight when he caught Elspeth. I step forward and trip on a clump of leaves. Annie cries out. Shit. My feet are bigger, too.