TOO FULL FOR INDULGENCE
“C’mon, Jam!” Kyle shouted after diving into the lake, “It´s not so cold once you´re in!”
But Jeremy, up to his thin thighs in water, didn´t move an inch. “What are you talking about? It´s freezing!”
Kyle and Mark, already next to each other in the water, exchanged a grin; "C’mon, Jam, let´s play the killer whale and the seal game!"
Jeremy, wary of their smile, replied, “The killer whale? What kind of game is that?”
Kyle flicked his wet bangs off with a quick shake. “Have you ever seen one of those documentaries on how killer whales hunt?”
Mark´s chuckles only increased Jeremy´s uneasiness. “Yeah, I have …”
Kyle´s blue eyes lit up with a wild spark, “Your turn to be the seal!” A strong splash, and he disappeared beneath the surface in Jeremy´s direction.
Jeremy quickly turned around to reach the shore, stumbling hurriedly, in such a way as if his life depended on it, that Mark burst out laughing, “Hahaha, Jam, in the documentary I saw running only makes it worse!”
Next to Jeremy, Kyle breached with a burst of water, “ORCA ATTACK!!”, and clutched his friend to scoop him up toward the lake.
“Kyle, no, please!” Jeremy complained, shrunken in his arms, “It´s too cold!”
But Kyle just kept storming into the lake, speaking in a serious documentary announcer voice: “Orcas, driven by their killer instinct, bite their prey moments before tossing them into the water.” Then he teased Jeremy, giving him a playful chomp on the shoulder with a growl.
Jeremy recoiled even more, chuckling in submissive despair, anticipating his outcome.
As Kyle reached Mark in the lake, Mark grinned and said, “C’mon, Jam! I thought you were down to roll with Kyle no matter what. Time to show us!”
Jeremy kept his eyes locked on the water, afraid, “Guys, would a diving suit do?! AAAAAAAAH!!!” He screamed as Kyle launched himself sideways with Jeremy, the water closing over them with a huge splash, timed with Mark’s roaring laughter.
***
Mick and another biker recently sat at the bar in El Corral. Unlike Mick, who had a fat, bulky, strong build, the other man looked leaner and more muscular, with a rock-solid appearance, matching his hard, forever-grumpy old sergeant´s face, weathered by time, marked by a scar and a crew cut. Features in tune with his camo pants and the dog tags hanging from his neck.
"So that Kyle’s just around twenty?" the man said as the ice clinked in his glass of whiskey with a swirl, "and you’re telling us we’re gonna have some real fun with him?"
"Oh yeah, we will, Hank," Mick said, pausing to take a chug, his elbow resting on the bar. "Really young. From what I´ve heard, he showed up here from Detroit last summer to work at Garrison´s farm."
Hank chuckled, “That explains everything! Garrison´s livestock are the strongest and the fattest around.”
Mick agreed and added, “Yeah, that twink landed in their hands, and they´ve bulked him up into a real big man. He´s got freaking’ jacked guns! That boy’s gotta eat like a horse to get those arms in one single year! And he´s no city slicker at all—You won´t believe the huge burps he lets out!”
Hank nodded in approval. “Good for an eating contest, strong at arm wrestling, huge burps... yeah, that big boy definitely sounds like a lot of fun! And what about his friends?"
“One of them just looks like the classic fitness hunk. And the other one is a skinny buddy—shy but really nice—I noticed in the moment I talked to him”, Mick paused for a sec and said, "Because he and Kyle are friends and people say he scores with a bunch of girls—otherwise, I'd say Kyle was jealous; you should've seen the way he stood right in front of me when I introduced myself to his friend …”
***
Kyle, Mark, and Jeremy stood in a loose circle by the lake shore, still dripping from swimming, ball games, and horsing around in the water.
Kyle cracked open a beer with a hiss and poured it straight down his throat, chugging loudly as he tilted his head back. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he finished the whole drink in one go. With a satisfied grunt, he crushed the can and tossed it into the plastic grocery bag at his feet. After bending over to grab another can, he gave a couple of glances around while patting his slightly bowed-out belly. His snug swim briefs, pushed down by his hefty butt, barely covered the lowest of his golden happy trail. The scattered locals, weekenders, and day-trippers didn’t come close to his size. “God damn, Jam! The two jacked dudes at the lake? Just for you. Lucky guy!” he exclaimed with a wide grin.
Mark chuckled, shaking his head with a smile, having fun and anticipating Kyle’s joking ‘nonsense’.
Kyle added, “You even got some variety so you don´t get bored—The bulky blond beefcake”, he said, tracing a line from his head down to his torso, “And the lean, ripped Black guy with a six-pack”, pointing at Mark. Kyle threw a quick wink at Jeremy, “Abs are overrated anyway!” Kyle insisted. “Girls find muscles hot—whether shredded or bulky—but the bulky ones drive ’em crazy. Gotta have some size to grab.” He added, giving his belly a couple of confirmatory thuds and grinning at his friends. “Right, Jam?”
Mark cut in, fired up, and eager to speak first, "Rock-hard defined abs like mine take serious discipline, especially with food. “ Mark gave his chiseled abs a couple of solid taps, smirking with confidence, “Not everyone can pull that off, and that’s what makes me stand out over most guys. That’s what puts me at the top. I’m the prize—not every girl gets to win.”
Jeremy said, "Yeah, you’re right. I mean… I’m not taking any credit away from you, but—" He paused, twirling one of his locks around his finger. "It’s just all that ad stuff, you know? They push the shredded look to sell diet stuff and fat burners. But honestly, girls like muscle guys—whether they’re lean or, like… bigger. And when Kyle shows off his size with that energy and confidence, just having fun and not stressing about made-up standards or what people expect—'cause he knows he still kills it—I think that’s what really gets them. That’s how Kyle is. He’s not the typical commercial body type, but he doesn’t care. What he enjoys is feeling strong, big, imposing, virile—and enjoying eating a lot along the way. Kyle’s not about to give up stuffing himself with hearty, satisfying food just to put up with dry chicken and plain rice, all to fit some mold they sell us as the best. That makes girls go crazy for him because he still has muscles, and it highlights that raw confidence, independence, and the fact that he works out more for himself than for chicks. Kyle doesn’t even try to have options—they just come to him."
Kyle agreed with energy, “So damn fucking right, Jam!”
“You’re just Kyle’s kiss-ass, Jam!” Mark shot back, waving a dismissive hand in the air, like brushing off Jeremy’s whole point.
Kyle laughed at Mark’s flared-up pride. “Haha, but he’s right, man! I get just as much—if not more—action with the girls as you! Even before I started lifting. And now that I’m this strong and bulky? Way more!”
Mark shook his head as Kyle raised his arm for a slap with Jeremy. “Now that’s what I call solid arguments, man!”
The conversation went on lively with Kyle and Mark bragging about their best features—like how some girl was totally amazed by Mark’s abs, or how another couldn’t stop staring at Kyle’s thick, strong pecs, bigger than anything she’d ever seen—when Kyle spotted a girl leaving her group of friends and walking toward him and his crew.
“Oh, that´s Amanda”, Kyle said.
Mark asked, “Amanda?”
“Yeah”, Kyle answered, “Boobies Without Borders.”
The boys watched her until she stopped near them. After giving them a quick once-over, she said in a soft, disbelieving tone, 'So these are the friends you’ve been hanging out with—the ones you ignored me for these past few days?" Then she added, “Which one of them is your boyfriend?” Her lips twisted into a sneer of ironic contempt.
Kyle´s eyes sparkled at the chance of pranks; for him, few things were more amusing than making fun of a girl—wounded in her pride after being ignored—questioning his manhood in a desperate attempt to regain his attention.
“Oh, you won´t believe it! The short one”, he said, throwing an arm around Jeremy and pulling him in with a lively smack to his shoulder, "He’s got balls bigger than your boobs… way better than the titjobs you gave me. How the hell am I not gonna prefer him over you, lady?!"
Amanda´s lips now compressed in an expression of embarrassment and anger. “So you like short guys? Guess you’re not just into dudes—you’ve got terrible taste too”. Kyle kept looking at Amanda with a trace of the smile from just moments ago, trying not to let go of what little was left of it. He thought, “Time to bring the big guns out”. He pulled Jeremy into him, wrapping him up in his muscular arms and huge torso so tightly he almost disappeared. Then Kyle said with a mocking, mellow voice, “No matter what they say, Jam—sure, you're short, but you're the only one who’s at the level of my heart”. Then Kyle brushed Jeremy’s locks from his forehead and placed a lingering kiss on it, after which, they held a muted gaze.
A piercing scream tore from Amanda’s mouth, ripping through the ears of every bystander around the lake, “You faggot!! Why can’t you look at me the same way you look at him????!!!” she yelled, pouncing on Kyle to club his broad shoulder—only to make him laugh at her frustrated attempt to get an emotional response after playing what she thought was her best card. At Kyle’s unshakable laughter, Amanda slapped him across the face. With an animal impulse, Kyle just grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and said, “You know, lady, I work on a farm harvesting, feeding animals, and cleaning up shit… and right now, I’m carrying a big one I gotta get rid of.” That said, Kyle walked toward a muddy puddle at the shore as she yelled and pounded his broad back in vain. With effortless strength, Kyle swung her off his shoulder and dumped her into the puddle with a wet, slapping thud. Then he walked away toward his friends without looking back, while Amanda’s shouts and insults echoed behind him in the distance, soaked in mud and furious.
Mark was still laughing when Kyle said, “Damn, she’s pissed off as hell. That chick’s missing the last few keys on her piano. ‘I wish you looked at me the way you look at him,’ she said. Guess I got way too into the romantic role. And you too, Jam, haha!”
“Huh? Why do you say that?” Jeremy asked with uneasiness, suddenly self-conscious.
“You turned red as a tomato in my arms, haha!”
When Kyle and Mark burst out laughing as Jeremy nervously touched his locks, Kyle quickly pulled him into another hug—this time much more brotherly, as an apology for his inevitably wild nature. A small smile peeked through on Jeremy’s face within Kyle’s broad arms.
***
When Kyle and his crew came back home from the lake, there was still some time before lunch, so they took Gus for a quick walk in a pine forest near the farm. Bertha was placing plates on the porch table for lunch when she looked up at the merry fuss coming from the yard entrance. As they approached the house, Kyle, Mark, and Jeremy were yelling and laughing at Gus’s races and leaps while he tried to catch the ball they threw back and forth with some teasing, playful faints.
Kyle suddenly held the ball over his head. “Wait up!”
Mark and Jeremy watched their friend smell the air with his eyes closed, lifting his long nose as its nostrils twitched with audible sniffs.
Kyle opened his eyes wide, “Auntie made her roasted chicken!” he said eagerly, starting to walk again.
Mark let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, dude, that big nose is like a freakin’ submarine radar! Haha!”
“Haha, Auntie!” The blond strongman walked to the porch with sturdy steps. “Is your roasted chicken ready? I’m starving!”
“Yeah, sweetie! I’ll bring it right now.”
“I hope you made a whole tray just for me!” Kyle said without looking away, sucking in his stomach to feel around the waistband of his three-stripe gym shorts. He winked at Jeremy, anticipating a good pigging out.
Bertha answered, “No worries, Kyle. I made enough to feed a whole platoon. You won’t stay hungry.”
“Only enough for a platoon?!” Kyle complained, crossing his arms to yank off his tank top and snapping it into the waistband of his gym shorts. “These muscles need enough food for an army, Auntie!” He puffed up his chest and pulled his belly in with his fists on his ribs, spreading wide. His gaze bouncing between his beefy pecs and his auntie, eager for recognition. The woman met him with a look of tender resignation as he said, “Uncle says I’m a one-man army!”
Bertha just shook her head, an exasperated smile peaking on her face as she rolled her eyes and walked away. Kyle’s sudden laughter broke his showboat pose as he looked at his friends, prompting Mark and Jeremy to join in the laughter while the woman disappeared into the kitchen.
They all took their seats when Bertha returned and placed a tray on the table, “This one’s for all of us,” she said.
Right after her, Alfred showed up carrying a second tray, “And this one’s for the strongman."
Just as the farmer was lowering it, Kyle grabbed one of the chicken breasts with both hands and took a big bite, “Tasty as hell, dudes!’ he mumbled with his mouth full."
Lunch began with Bertha as the star of the moment—Kyle, backed up by his crew, showered her with praise for her cooking. The chicken pieces, coated in a generous layer of herbs and spices, already promised a savory experience with each eager bite. Their crispy skin and juicy flesh glistened under a glossy coat of gravy—crunchy, tender, and mouthwatering, just as it looked. Not to forget the side dish: mashed potatoes, whipped smooth yet still rustic, with soft lumps that spoke of real hand-mashing. A golden pool of melted butter sank slowly into the steaming mound, while streaks of rich brown gravy cascaded down its slopes. Again, two big bowls well loaded; one for Kyle and the other one for the rest.
It was also worth noting that Jeremy—though still quieter than the others—was now speaking up around the table more than usual.
Halfway through lunch, the comments and jokes turned to Kyle—starting with the incident with Amanda at the lake and ending, inevitably, with his bulky muscles and horse-sized appetite—especially when he ended up eating whatever the others left behind.
“Don’t worry, Auntie,” Kyle mumbled through the last mouthful of his last chicken breast, eagerly dragging the other tray toward him. “Nothing goes to waste … Nom … your big boy’s here … Guh.” He swallowed hard with a loud gulp and reached for another piece of chicken. “What’s for the second course, by the way? … Munch … Munch”
“Oh, I made that European thing you like so much—Olivier salad.”
Kyle’s eyes widened over his puffed cheeks. “Your Olivier … guh … salad? I love it. Bring it!”
Mark chuckled, “Slow down, man. You’ve still got chicken left in that tray. Let us make some room first.”
Bertha, catching the boys patting their stomachs and waiting to make some room, smiled knowingly and gave them a short break before bringing out the next dish.
When she finally returned with the big platter of Olivier salad, Mark and Jeremy each had just a ladleful, leaving much more than half for Kyle.
“So good!” Mark said after his first forkful. “So, Bertha, you can cook foreign dishes too? That’s cool!”
“Yeah,” Bertha replied. “Kyle taught us how to use a laptop, search the internet, and YouTube… we’ve been looking up recipes and all that.”
Alfred gave a meaningful nod. “Kyle knew what he was doing…”
Kyle spread his lips in a broad smile, cheeks puffed with Olivier salad, as he kept eating straight from the platter, using the ladle like a spoon.
"Wooo," Jeremy said, watching Kyle. "No need for plates and forks for you, huh? Haha." He chuckled as he looked at Kyle sinking the ladle in Olivier salad for his next hearty mouthful, "My serving is just one of your bites!"
Kyle caught Bertha’s miffed gaze at his animal-eating.
“What, Auntie? … Nom … Nom,” he said, still munching.
“What if your friends want some more?”
“They don’t!” Kyle replied. “Besides, I ate straight from the platter, looking out for you!”
“For me?!”
“Yeah—fewer plates for you to wash later.”
Bertha shook her head with a hopeless smile as Alfred and the boys burst out laughing at Kyle’s thoughtful excuse for his chow greediness.
“Bertha”, Alfred said, “askin’ Kyle to eat with a little spoon is like expectin’ a draft horse to nibble like a pony… Kyle is our big strappin’ boy!”
As if to confirm the farmer’s words, Kyle grabbed the recently refilled jar of water from the center of the table and took it to his mouth as a glass for him. They all kept silent. Only Kyle’s sloshing gulps were heard, his large Adam’s apple bouncing with each gulp, a couple of stray drops rolling down his neck. Just as the jar's bottom was pointing right at the ceiling, Kyle plopped the empty recipient down with a loud clang. A long, grunting sigh of satisfaction escaped his mouth as he drank it all in one go.
When Kyle forced the last mouthful of Olivier salad down, he heavily slumped back in his chair as his friends admired him. His thick triceps bulged while he rubbed his full, rounded belly with both hands. “Ohhh, Auntie, you always outdo your—BUUUURP!—self, oh my God!”
Bertha, already ahead of Kyle’s intentions, answered, “I’m glad you like it, sweetie. But”—her tone playful yet assertive—“buttering me up won’t work this time. You and Mark won’t get any apple pie. I warned you, and I caught you fighting in the shed.”
“Aw, man, Auntie, you can’t do this to me!” he protested, trying to play it off as a joke. “I was just messing around with Mark. We weren’t fighting.”
But Bertha didn’t even pay him any mind.
Kyle looked at Mark and groaned, shrugging. “Well, bro… We’ll make up with some melon.”
Jeremy was still finishing his small serving of Olivier salad when Kyle was about to polish off his entire melon—except for the slice he gave to Mark. Then Bertha brought Jeremy his portion of apple pie. “Here you go, honey.”
Jeremy reached out, took his dessert, and set it on the table. When Bertha sat down, he asked, “So, Bertha, this piece of pie is mine, right?”
“Yeah, dear,” she said, scooting her chair closer to the table.
“Okay, since you say it’s mine,” Jeremy replied, cutting his slice with his knife, “I wanna share it with Kyle and Mark, if you don’t mind.”
Bertha, somewhat confused, said, ”Jeremy, I can´t lift my punishment. I warned Kyle and Mark about fighting here. You three are my responsibility during your stay.
Jeremy kept shaking his head sheepishly, his gaze dropping to the table, but tenacious in his purpose. “No… no… they weren’t going to get hurt. It was just horseplay; they weren’t gonna fight. If I can’t share my piece of pie with them, I’d rather skip dessert.”
Kyle and Mark, with a casual, nonchalant attitude, told Jeremy to just enjoy his dessert without worrying. But Jeremy insisted, “If they wanted to fight, they’d have started throwing punches. I know ‘cause one time Kyle defended me from some bullies—he just showed up and smashed one right in the face without even saying a word.”
Then Jeremy put his elbows on the table, covered his face with his hands, and stayed still. Kyle placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, “Jam, do you still cry when you remember that?” His words were full of tender exasperation.
Jeremy´s shoulders shook with muted sobs. Bertha and Alfred exchanged worried looks. Then Kyle, after giving them a quick unconcerned nod, dragged Jeremy’s chair closer with a grumpy sigh of affection, wrapped his arm around his friend, and pulled him into his chest. As soon as Jeremy buried his face in Kyle’s chest, Kyle turned to Mark, biting his lip and rolling his eyes.
While Kyle patted his buddy, Bertha asked, ”Is Jeremy okay? What’s going on with him?”
Kyle looked down at Jeremy. “Is it okay if we tell them? Bertha and Alfred are really nice people.”
Crying silently, Jeremy just shrugged, as if leaving the choice to Kyle, who explained, “So, once Jeremy and I were shooting hoops in the street. I left him alone to go buy some drinks, and when I came back, four bullies were bothering him. I knocked one to the ground with a punch, but the other three jumped on me. Poor Jeremy got scared and ran away.”
Kyle resumed patting and gently squeezing Jeremy as he said, trying to sound comforting, “I told you already, Jam. My main concern was keeping you safe. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. So if you ran away, you did the right thing in my book.”
At this point, Jeremy couldn’t hold back his crying anymore; sobs and moans burst out uncontrollably as he covered his face with his hands.
Kyle gave him a couple of minutes to let him vent his emotions, but Jeremy didn´t stop
“There, there.”
No effect on him.
“Jam, it’s okay,” Kyle insisted, his tone serious.
Jeremy didn’t stop crying.
Kyle shook his little friend, yelling, “Jam, it’s enough!! FUCK!!”
Jeremy jerked his head up from Kyle’s chest to find Kyle’s lips tightly pressed in exasperation, his eyes sparkling with anger, and his eyebrows shooting up in surprise and regret at his own sudden loss of control.
The mix of expressions was so comical that Jeremy couldn’t help laughing even as he kept crying, just like a little kid.
Kyle just hugged Jeremy tightly, almost making him vanish in his arms, letting out lighthearted laughs of frustration as Jeremy sobbed and chuckled.
“Awww, haha! C’mon, Jam, you know it’s all a joke to me, hehe. Remember when you came back, and the bullies were gone? I just laughed and went, ‘Jam, as a fighter, you suck, but don’t worry— as a runner, you’ve got a bright future!’ Haha! And then you got all embarrassed, red like a little tomato, and I laughed even harder. Haha, I think that’s when I started enjoying making you nervous. My little cherry tomato.”
Mark stood up and knelt beside Jeremy, patting his leg. “C’mon, Jam, don’t feel bad. You’re the only one who puts up with all this clown’s antics—he owes you way more than you owe him.”
Bertha, touched by such a scene, stood up and said, “Well, darling, you know what?” Then she walked into the kitchen and returned with the apple pie in her hands. “Your friends are gonna have pie if that makes you feel better."
Jeremy smiled as the woman plopped down the cake in front of Kyle, who palmed his face in funny dismay and disbelief, “Oh my God, I didn´t see this coming. I just had that huge melon—I´m so full, I can´t handle any more!”, he groaned, his shoulders shaking with lazy chuckles between regret moans."
“I just want a piece,” Mark chimed in with a teasing grin. “Gotta stay shredded! You’re the one always bulking in the off-season, big boy,” he added as he cut a small slice, leaving most of the pie untouched. Then he gave Kyle’s bloated belly a couple of solid slaps and winked at Jeremy. “The tank of our crew’s gotta keep fueling those gains, right, Jam?”
Alfred said, “C’mon, strongman, make Jeremy happy! He’s really glad you finally got it.”
Kyle, at the sight of such an unexpected dessert on top of his whole melon, looked at Jeremy with disbelief and leaned back on his chair to expose the full roundness in his stuffed gut for him, tracing its plumped-up curves with ample, two-handed belly rubs while letting out a heavy huff of fullness— the kind that begged for mercy without saying a word
However, despite Kyle’s efforts to make it clear he couldn’t eat another bite, Jeremy just smiled at him through teary eyes and said, “You wanted that pie so much, and now it’s all yours!”
Alfred added, “Besides, you gotta keep in shape to deal with Mick and his gang,” nudging the pastry toward Kyle. “Eat that pie up, he-man!” His voice was gruff but encouraging.
“And there’s freshly made cream, too!” Bertha said. “You can spread it on the pie—I know you love it that way! Want me to bring it over, sweetie?” she asked, giving a teasing nod.
Mark’s recognition, Alfred’s encouragement and praise, Jeremy’s delight in watching him enjoy his big lunch, and Bertha’s pride and satisfaction at seeing him finish all her delicious food—all of that filled Kyle’s chest with desire as he looked at the pie, eager to blow them all away.
Kyle snapped his head toward Jeremy. “Yo, Jam! You want me to stuff down all that pie? Huh? You bet!” Then he turned to Bertha. “Auntie, bring me a big bowl of cream,” he said, spreading his hands wide to show just how big he wanted it. As Bertha stood up and headed to the kitchen, Kyle’s eyes stayed on the pie — the more he looked, the more he craved it. Its rustic golden-brown crust looked thick and crunchy, while the creamy filling brimmed from Mark’s cut. Kyle took a deep breath, savoring its toasted aroma loaded with cinnamon, so rich it felt almost like taking the first bite, which made him let out a virile roar of desire.
“Here, sweetie, your cream,” Bertha said, placing a big bowl beside the pie.
They all fell silent as Alfred cut the pie into several hefty slices — each twice the size of Mark’s portion. “There!” the farmer declared. “Dig in, big boy!” He slapped Kyle’s thick shoulder, like spurring one of his draft horses into a heavy pull.
Kyle leaned back and took a couple of hearty breaths — deep, long, and full to the brim — huge pecs bumping against his stubbled jaw with each inhale, pushing down that whole tray of chicken, the platter of Olivier salad, and the entire melon in his gut to settle them well, right before packing that pie on top inside his already maxed-out stomach. Kyle grabbed his first portion and dunked it into the cream up to the edges, then took such a huge bite that only half was left in his hand.
“Wow!” Jeremy exclaimed, shifting his gaze between Kyle’s shifting puffed-up cheeks and his hand. “You almost polished off that big piece in a sec!”
“Haha. When it comes to eating, you’re a fucking beast, man!” Mark said. “We’re just halfway through our serving, and you’ve almost stuffed yours down already, despite yours being bigger than ours!”
Kyle just shoved himself to his feet with a rumbling groan. All eyes followed his massive belly towering above everyone´s heads. He gave his low-slung gym shorts a half-hearted tug, more out of habit than concern at showing the first rough hairs on the underside of his stomach. Mark handed him the next piece after filling it with cream from the bowl, while Kyle was still chewing the last bite of his first piece. “C’mon, dude! Eat all that pie up!" Kyle grabbed the portion and pushed it into his mouth with a grunt, against his fullness; again, only half of it remained in his hand.
“That’s it, dude!” Mark urged. “One more and you’re done with that pie!”
Kyle scarfed down the rest of the second portion, and Mark passed him the last piece, piled high with the remaining cream. Kyle held the slice, eyeing it as he let out a heavy huff, his hand resting on his full gut. “C’mon, dude!” Mark insisted. “You can’t let Jeremy down — he went through all that trouble to score you that pie! Haha.” Kyle looked at Jeremy, catching the twinkle of admiration and expectation in his eyes. He then took a couple of huge breaths and opened wide, shoving the entire piece of pie into his mouth, leaving just the crust in his hand after a big bite. Eager to claim his prize from Jeremy, Kyle tried to speak, but his words came out as a jumble of moans, groans, and grunts, plunged into his huge mouthful.
They all laughed at Kyle’s attempts to speak, “Gulp that mouthful down, bro!” Mark encouraged him with a couple of slaps on his gut that made his engorged belly thump like a bass drum, “Besides, you’re not done yet; scrape that crust off!”
Alfred added, “C’mon, my boy, you’re enjoying that pie; it’s your favorite! Polish it off!”
After that last crust, Bertha smiled proudly at Kyle as he licked his lips and fingers, trying to savor every last bit of the sweet taste, “I can tell you love my desserts, sweaty!”
Kyle, still standing, grunted with a strained voice, “Uuuuurgh, Jem … look at that! I was stuffed as hell and still packed that damn pie away for you!” He shifted heavily from side to side, topping off his stuffed gut with a couple of proud, confirmatory thuds. “I hope—BUUUUURP—Guh, you’re happy now … huuugh … huff… huff.” His freshly engorged belly heaved with every heavy breath, hovering fully over the table and owning all the space among the heads around.
Jeremy, lips parted, could only trace with his eyes in awe the pronounced curves of Kyle´s belly and his beefy pecs sitting proudly above them, bobbing with every hard breath.
Kyle, eyes locked on Jeremy, just ran his hand all over his gut, wrapping up all its burly shapes while groaning. His low gym shorts dropped again as Kyle shifted, this time leaving them alone, resting on the widest part of his hips, “This fucking gut´s charged with more energy than a damn nuclear plant at full power, Jem!”
Alfred chuckled, “Just the fuel this big boy needs to lift like a draft horse, right, Jeremy?”
Jeremy just gave a quick nod, unable to look away from Kyle.
“So damn fucking right, Uncle! Ugh …” Kyle said, wincing with a strained voice, palm pressing into the tight upper curve of his belly, ”Stuffed as fuck! … Hnng … next workout is gonna be wild … uuugh!”
Bertha laughed softly, “He arrived here like a foal, and I fed him right. Now he’s grown into a good draft horse — all strength and size. Such a big boy!”
“Keep those big helpings coming, Auntie! … mmmf …” Kyle leaned back with a wince. “Gotta keep these gains … mmmph… this draft horse gotta keep growing …!”
Kyle´s stomach let out a gurgle. Mark, sensing Kyle´s growing discomfort, smirked, “What´s wrong, bro! Overload at that nuclear plant in your gut? You can handle it, strong man!” Mark topped off with a couple of heavy-handed belly slaps, landing with contundent, meaty thumps.
Kyle´s stuffed stomach jumped with an inner gurgle, making his hand shoot to his belly side, “—Guh … Mmmph …!” He arched back with a frowning face to carve out more room for his already maxed-out stomach. His hand running up and down all over his plumped midsection, “Damn … Mmmhp—… I feel some wind trying to get out … Mnnngr!” But his pals and the farmers just stared at him like it wasn´t wind but a hurricane was working its way out, pushing through Kyle´s insides, about to bust.
Kyle complained with stifled grunts, “mmmmrrrr … mmmmrrrrr … Fuuuck!” He forcefully pushed his swollen gut outwards, even harder, so that his beefy pecs bumped up, crushing into his jaw. Kyle held himself there, gritting his teeth with sweat beading on his face, flushing redder and redder. His massive gut heaved, expanding visibly even more with a rumbling grumble rolling through it like the murmur of thunder just right before booming.
“BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRP! … huff … huff–Guh … huff!”
“Good Lord!” Bertha said with a hand on her chest, “That one sounded like a raging bull´s bellow!”
Alfred let out a stunned whistle. “Keep burping like that for Mick’s big boys’ games!”
Mark snorted, “Man, if you say that gut of yours is like a nuclear power plant, that was a full-blown Chernobyl meltdown!”
Kyle smiled at Jeremy, his engorged belly kept heaving with every hard pant. Still catching his breath, Kyle just gave Jeremy a cocky nod with his head as if saying, ‘Your move, little man.’
Jeremy just said, “Well … looks like the mighty Thor unleashed his power in thunder, hehe.”
Laughter rolled around the table, easy and loud. Kyle let out a satisfied grunt for all and shot Jeremy a playful wink—just for him—an unspoken worth it.
After a while spent at the table, the farmers finally made their way back into the house. Mark headed off for a jog, while Kyle, still basking in the compliments and heavy with food, strolled behind the barn with Jeremy to take a nap in the shade.
In the sunniest hours of one of August’s hottest days, Kyle told Jeremy to lie down on the piles of wheat inside the barn. After their footsteps and the hefty thud of Kyle dropping onto the mattress of grain beside him, nothing else was heard—only the heavy silence of a summer afternoon, far out in the countryside.
In the cool gloom of the barn, the blazing light outside pressed to get in, making the vertical gaps between the wooden planks burn with a white glow. Everything remained still, except for tiny specks of dust fluttering like bright insects in the sunbeams hovering above the two friends. The air inside was soaked with a mix of scents: the rustic, earthy whiff of wheat and straw; a slightly musty note from the old wood; faint traces of hay and animals from the farmyard; and the soft aroma of soil and greenery, carried in now and then by an almost imperceptible breeze drifting through the open door.
Jeremy lay still close to Kyle, watching the 300-pound bulk of burly muscle resting after his ponderous lunch. His eyes traced the thick, ample curves of Kyle’s chest, belly, and limbs.
After a while, the silence was interrupted by Kyle´s deep breath, followed by a long, lazy sigh, and the rustling sound of his hand grazing over the fullness of his hirsute belly—his touch sluggish, lingering, and unhurried, until it slipped well inside his gym shorts for a few moments.
“Jam … can´t sleep?”
Jeremy´s eyes darted from Kyle´s tucked hand to his face, bumping into a careless, drowsy smile.
“Oh, yeah … yeah … well, I didn´t, but … but it´s nice being here anyway. You know?”
Kyle softly chuckled, slowly reaching out his arm toward Jeremy, signaling with his fingers for him to come closer. Then Kyle wrapped his big arm around his little friend's shoulders, gently squeezing him tenderly between his cheek, arm, and torso. Jeremy leaned into his big pal, resting his head on one of Kyle’s pecs. Kyle caressed his gut while, head to head, both friends watched his hand delightfully drifting over the rounded mound of his full belly.
“Jam, you know this was an act of love, right?”
Jeremy chuckled, confused but pleased. “An act of love?”
“Yeah, I was so damn stuffed to bursting… and I still managed to pack away that pie just to please you, even though my belly hurt, hehe.”
“Oh, and yet you ate it all up?”
“Hehe, yeah, but it was worth it to see you enjoying it. It’s been a while since I ate that much.”
Jeremy paused for a moment to recompose himself and avoid looking embarrassed. Then, trying to match Kyle’s same nonchalant tone, he said, “You eat like a horse. I can tell by that big gut you love me a lot, hehe. So huge.”
“And tight. Touch it, Jam,” Kyle murmured.
Jeremy’s chest pounded as he suddenly shifted his gaze from Kyle’s stomach to his face, whose expression made Jeremy’s heart race. Maybe it was the nap time, the recent joy of a pie Kyle presumed lost, or the heavy fullness that sent all his blood to his stomach—but Kyle’s gaze—drowsy, happy, and dreamlike—could easily be mistaken for that of a lover, with eyes only for one person.
Jeremy remained still, like a goat about to faint, too stunned to dare a move. He felt Kyle’s hand gently take his, slowly guiding it to his stomach. Kyle led Jeremy’s small hand—soft and tender, like a delicate bouquet of jasmine—in slow, soothing strokes over his belly while moaning, “Mmmm… mmmm… yeah, Jam, I eat like a horse. But this horse needs tons of belly rubs.” His voice was low, full of emotion, and his eyelids had almost fallen, as if surrendered to pleasure.
Suddenly, Kyle got on all fours over his small friend as the piles of wheat shifted and crunched under his weight. His massive torso loomed over Jeremy, filling his entire view while Kyle turned his back to the ceiling. Kyle, with a sensual, wild gaze in his electric-blue eyes, pinned Jeremy against the grain blocks. Jeremy´s heart beat frenetically inside his small chest, as if it wanted to leap out, when he shrank beneath Kyle's imposing bulk, overwhelmed by an exciting feeling of helplessness. Kyle slowly bent his elbows, lowering his wide mouth toward Jeremy’s face. Then he whispered in his ear, “Now these 300 pounds of muscle and belly are gonna take you to heaven”, so close that Jeremy could feel the warmth of his breath touching his cheek.
To be continued.