Lance's desk was a mess. Chocolate wrappers and empty bags of candy littered the surface so that the wood beneath was barely visible, with a couple of half finished glasses of coke dotted about like islands. In this ocean of litter, Lance had cleared a space just large enough to fit his mouse and keyboard, which he was currently hammering on furiously.
"God... DAMNIT" Lance shouted as he died for the fifth consecutive time on Overwatch. With this battle cry he knocked numerous brightly colored wrappers onto his carpeted floor.
"I swear if Roger doesnt get here soon..." Lance grumbled, unsticking his wide thighs from his gaming chair and maneuvering over to his mirror. Lance gazed at his reflection, and some of the frustration from his game dissipated. Lance was clad in his sleepwear still, having convinced his doting mother he was too sick to go to school that day. A pair of once loose fitting boxers now clung to his frame like spandex, and his shirt had an ungainly bulge in the stomach area.
This satisfied Lance, who enjoyed all the sensations of being fat, and he gave himself a playful jiggle. He found as he put on weight that his figure had grown increasingly curvy. Pair this with his shoulder length locks of blonde hair, and Lance was looking more feminine by the day. Though he was often teased by his friends for his 'girly' appearance, Lance had to admit, it kinda turned him on.
Just as he thought this, a shout came from downstairs:
"Hey Juicy, Roger's at the door!"
Lance scowled at his closed door, "Mom! Stop calling me that already!"
He took one last look at his pale, pudgy figure. Feeling a sudden pang of hunger, he remembered why he'd arranged to meet Roger in the first place: McDonald's.
Lance's enthusiasm fully rekindled, he stripped off his pajama top and - without bothering to change his sweat-stained boxers - picked a pair of blue jeans off his floor at random. As Lance has put on weight, his hygiene has rapidly deteriorated: every single pound seeming to correspond to a new sauce stain on his shirt or oversized wrapper left to rot on his desk.
As Lance pulled his jeans up his legs, he felt the usual resistance which meant his gains were on track. The button on the waistline seemed just about ready to cave under the pressure of his stomach's lard, belly slightly hanging over the waistline.
Thighs sliding over each other as he walked, Lance made his way down the stairs, finding himself quite out of breath by the bottom. He met Roger in the kitchen, his mom having let him in:
"Thought you weren't gonna come dude."
"Shut up and lets go already" Said Lance shortly, "I'm hungry."
His mom called to them as they went, "Enjoy the food, Juicy!"
"Shut it, Mom!"
As Roger followed Lance out the front door, he cast a quick glance down at the his friend's backside, so well framed by those skin-tight jeans. He couldn't help but think Lance had a thicker butt than his girlfriend.I
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