Bigger Brothers (Part 2)

The much delayed sequel to the first!  Before reading, I want to re-warn you folks.  This is a fiction.  About fat boys.  Getting fat.  Fatter.  Hella fat.  It may seem perverse to some not used to this stuff.  If you find this too weird... then don't read it.  I mean this in the most stoic attitude.  I'm not trying to scare anyone away.  I'm a fat guy.  I like writing fat-fiction.  FICTION is what this is, after all.  No one has to read this, but there it is.  Ye be warned!

As a side note I would like to apologize for the soap opera overtone of the first chapter.  I may have been trying to get a point across or something.  I get funny,
preachy fits occasionally.  In my defense I was completely sober at the time I wrote the first.  I don't know why I let my self get into that state or why I stop being intoxicated when I sleep, but I promise to minimize time spent sober, to the best of my ability.  I am fairly drunk at present, so rest at ease. (hence the babble)

This and any future installations will be pure funness.  The only drama I plan again is when someone gets greedy and eats all the pie or something.  The kind of drama all FA's enjoy.  So if you're an FA, then please enjoy.

ps: please forgive the preceding.  I will most likely not remember I wrote that part.  For those who e-mail me, thank you! and please forgive the delay in response.  Hangovers will hang you over from time to time. 

-end of rant






"C'mon Derick! Get up."
Derick, who was attacking a Chinese take-out dinner took a moment to swallow before answering.
"I am up."
"Dude, we've got twenty minutes to get to work and your still in your boxers."
Another pause to stuff down some General Tso's chicken.
"I didn't want to stain my shirt again." 
Derick wiped sauce and rice off his lap-encompassing paunch, sending out shock waves throughout his fleshy front.
Jon sighed.  "What's it gonna take for me to get your butt off the couch?"
Derick grinned. "Earthquake?"
"I've got a better idea."  Jon hefted his formidable bulk off the couch, waddled into the kitchen, grabbed a Tupperware bowl, and started dumping the leftovers on the coffee table into it.
Derick whined something unintelligible around a mouthful of lo mein.
"Too bad.  You can eat in the car."
Derick rubbed his belly sullenly.  "One more egg roll! Please!"
Jon chuckled and mussed his hair.  "Its always one more egg roll with you."
"Is that a yes?"
"No! Put on some pants already!"
"Blah blah blah... always asking me to wear pants."

With a grunt Derick managed to haul himself off the couch.  His stomach sloshed back and forth in front of him as he slowly waddled toward his room.  He rubbed his hand in languorous circles around his smooth, hairless belly.  Although he was stuffing himself moments ago, in truth he had ordered more food than he could comfortably eat.  Grinning drunkenly he shuffled lazily forward.

Jon's mouth was full when he spoke next.  "Yo! Speed it up there big boy."
"Hey!  You're eating my lunch!"
"Thats right.  You've got five minutes.  Be ready to go or you're going hungry."

For once Derick actually did what he was told and ran to his room, shaking the whole house.  He grabbed his pants and tugged them up.  Getting them over his thick legs was little problem.  His big ass was a big problem.  But he managed to wriggle them up.

"Cool.  No problem he thought to himself."

Then he tried the button.  It was a hard feat to accomplish on any previous night.  His very soft belly was huge and heavy and hung down over his waistband nearly halfway down his thighs.  Derick had adapted very quickly to the fat man's art of blindly fixing buttons and zippers.

"Oh crap!"

The problem wasn't that he couldn't find the buttons... the problem was they wouldn't meet.
Jon strutted into the room still eating his brother's dinner.  In a panic he tried to hop up and down hoping to force the buttons together.  Jon nearly chocked on the won ton he was eating while laughing.

"A little late for jumping jacks don't you think, chubster?"  Jon's eyes were locked on the mass of adipose sloshing up in down out of sync with the rest of Derick.  "If you're trying to lose weight we don't have time for it now."
"Ha ha.  I just... need to...there!" As Derick's face went red from exertion he manged to force the buttons to finally clasp when - SNAP! While the front of his pants connected, the force of his bubble butt resisting the motion ripped the waistband right off the back, exposing his plaid boxers and beach ball sized cheeks right in front of his brother.

As late as they were they couldn't help but laugh themselves to tears.  In between bouts of giggling they managed to get the ruins of Derick's pants off him.

"Enough fun little bro.  Got a bigger pair around?"
"Nope.  I borrowed that pair from you."
That stopped Jon's laughter quickly.
"Was that an old pair?"
Derick shrugged sheepishly.  Jon inspected the remnants of the garment.
"Get the hell out of here..." he gasped.
"Sorry my duff wrecked your pants dude," giggled Derick.
"Rick, these were new!"
"I said I'm sorry.  I'll buy you another pair."
"DUDE!  Don't you get it?! I bought this pair for me!"
"Relax, they're just pants!"
Jon stared at his oblivious younger brother for a full ten seconds.  "These pants are my size you ninny!"
It took another ten seconds for this information to sink into Derick's MSG flooded brain.
"Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!  Are you saying that I'm... You're telling me that I am fatter than you?!"
"That is about the size of it."
"No way."
"The proof is in the pants, bro."
"No way."

The two rushed as fast as the could into the bathroom, where a digital scale rested collecting dust.  The Rotund Rick pulled it out and quickly brushed the dust off the display.  He hopped on and sucked his overfed tummy in as far as he could.  Despite his effort he still had to adjust his bulk a bit before he could get a clear line of sight.  Jon was unable to help here as the bathroom was too small for the two obese youths to maneuver about.

"What's it say Ricky?"
Derick blushed and hopped off and on again.  "Must be all that stuff I just ate."
Jon grinned in the suspense of the moment.  "Try it again!  What's the score?"
"Jesus... It says 396 lbs.  That can't be right... can it?"
Jon bounced Rick's corpulent lap-warmer like a beach ball of fat.  Still smiling, Jon lifted an eyebrow as Derick shuffled off the scale.  "Maybe it is right."  Derick held the mass of fat with newfound wonder.  "I didn't expect I was this big."
"Eating French-fries ALL DAY can do wonders for your appetite, eh little bro?  Or can I still call you that?"
Jon quickly stripped to his boxers and hopped on.  He had similar problems managing his obtrusive stomach.  Derick jumped as Jon let out a loud whoop in the confined space.
"So?  What's it say?"
"Little brother..."
"Yes?"
"You're not so little anymore."
"Yeah. Duh. How much?"
"You, BIG BRO, are twelve whole pounds fatter than me!"
"GET OUT!"  Derick nearly shoved Jon into the tub to see the scale with his own eyes. 
384 lbs
"Bless my rolls!  I am fatter than you!"
"What was that?"
"Bless my rolls."
"That's retarded."
"I thought it was funny."
"It isn't."
"Sorry.  I got caught up.  No good?"
"Never again."

As Jon Dressed Derick rushed back into his room.  When Jon found him he was lying on his bed, jumbo sized butt in the air, and face down in that bowl of leftovers.
"Have you lost you're mind, Rick?  We're late enough because of you."
"I got hungry."
"You're going to work, kid.  Sweatpants! Now!"


It took A miraculous combination of shortcuts and speeding and extreme luck to get to work on time.  Jon had to give up on trying to get the bowl away from Derick.  The rolly-polly teen would not let it go, even when dressing with the other hand.  They flew into the parking lot; Jon with wrecked, unshowered hair and Derick, face covered in sauce wearing only his sweats and flip flops with his huge belly lolling out.  As Derick cleaned himself and finished (finally!) dressing, Jon combed his hair.
They clocked in, right on time - even considering how slowly Rick waddled now that his belly was impossibly packed with noodles.
They day went by slowly from that point.  The boss was out, so Derick didn't get written up for not following dress code (being too lazy to follow it to the letter on most days).
After an hour or two, Jon noticed his brother sneaking fries again (as usual).  Then he started on onion rings.  Then nuggets. 
Jon pulled up Rick's shirt and gave him a pat.  "Jeez buddy, is there a bottom in there or what? dinner is only an hour away."
"When you get as big as me, LITTLE BRO, you'll understand that real men need to eat."
"Need to eat?  Like whenever food is anywhere near you?"
"Exactly!  Besides technically lunch is next on the agenda.  Dinner comes after work."
"What was that you ate two hours ago? Snack?"
"No.  The fries are snacks.  The Chinese was brunch."
"What are you? A hobbit?"
"Why not?  They ate all day, drank all night, and gave gifts to each other all the time.  No taxes either."
"Really?"
"Yup.  A whole country of fat little alcoholic anarchists."
"Man... My respect for hobbits just shot up a bit."
"Totally.  I wish I could just lay about eating and getting drunk."
"But you do that anyway! You're nearly 400lbs!"
"Yeah... but I still pay taxes."
Then they both had a good laugh.

As Jon sat down to lunch - a triple whopper, large fries, two apple pies, a large nugget, a large onion rings, and a large ice cream - he was shocked that his brother could still order his own "usual." 
Derick squeezed himself into the booth with a tray dripping with calories.  Three
triple whoppers, five large fries, two large onion rings, six pies, four chicken nuggets, and three ice creams.  Derick started eating with one hand before he had even got to the booth.  He didn't even stop when he filled up his 32 oz "Bubba Keg" at the fountain.  Nor did he stop eating as he attempted to shove his wide rear into the seat. 
Jon shook his head in genuine appreciation.  "You're unstoppable, Rick.  NO ONE can eat like this but you."

Derrick couldn't answer as both hands and his jaws were busy.  Jon observed his brother while eating his own comparatively small lunch.
Rick's chubby chipmunk cheeks bulged double as he crammed morsels in.  His flabby jowl shaking as his mouth worked like mad to tear apart one dripping greasy cheesy burger after another.  His shoulders were broad, but what little muscle there was developed from managing such a massive body.  His shirt was a size too small and accented his flabby moobs and the half-dozen jello-rolls on his sides.  Jon smiled around his own mouthful of junk food.  Derick once had a V-shape. Now he was so fat that he looked like a reverse V in shape - at least with his mammoth belly hidden under the table. 
Jon playfully slouched so his belly pouched out and a pressed against his brother's.  Derick giggled and deftly caught a gob of cheese dripping from his smiling mouth.  They never talked much while they ate.  Not when they had half an hour only to cram a mountain of food through their maws into their impressively cavernous bellies.  Jon continued staring at his brother's corpulence as they ate.  Derick never slowed down, eating triple what Jon eats in the same period, but watched amused as his brother seemingly charts his fatness.

Jon squeezes himself out to get a look at the obese teenager's profile in action.  Bellow the lesser belly rolls rests Rick's enormous love handles; each having more fat on them now then he his whole body once had.  Following the groove in the over-tight shirt led Jon to Derick's pride and joy... that audacious mass of fat that was his tummy (if tummy can describe a gut large enough to hold Derick's former self). 

Still eating, Jon reaches down to pat his fat friend's gut.  Derick was still smiling as he stuffed his lunch messily into his mouth.  But then again Derick always smiled while he ate... messily... stuffing.

"How can you be surprised you're bigger than me when you out-eat me like this?" He managed between bites.

Derick only shook his head in answer.  Jon guessed his brother's thoughts easy enough.  Derick was as in love with being fat as Jon was.  He could tell Derick had embraced this new development the same way he ate - with both hands!

"Yo sumo!"  Their coworker and buddy Greg, a fellow fat guy of about 350 lbs waddled up with his lunch and pulled up a chair.  Jon and Greg high-fived, but when he held his hand to Rick, Rick only shook his head, sending crumbs everywhere.
"Sorry man, didn't realize you were full tilt."
"Rick is always going full tilt."
Rick only shrugged and up-ended a cup filled with ice cream into his waiting mouth.
"Good God boy!  What about brain freeze?"
"Rick's built a tolerance."
"No shit!"
To prove it Rick downed another one and then another one.  He paused only to blast a belch that rocked the booth and then went back in with both hands.
"Rick, you owe me another five when you're done.  Hells bells you are the coolest freezer burn fat boy in the hizzy!"
Rick only rolled his eyes.  For one thing he was too modest to really brag.  For another he wasn't into speaking like the rapper crowd so he actually had no idea what hizzy meant.  The look he gave Jon somehow conveyed all of this, being a frequent discussion of theirs, and Jon nodded appreciatively.
"Anyway, my fat brothas.  I rolled over here 'cause you're break is up."
To their extreme shock Derick redoubled his pace.  In a flurry of fries, rings, and nuggets, he finished the tray in two minutes flat.  Grunting, he grabbed his huge drink and guzzled down half of it at once, gracing the whole place with an earsplitting burp.
"Cool. Done?"
Rick nodded.  He leaned back and burped again.  He was sweating a little from exertion and panting from the insane feat he just accomplished.
"Are you full?"
Derick thought a moment.  Then he slouched and hauled his gut up so that it laid on top of the table.  He patted the quivering mass tenderly.  "Totally."
"Still thinking about dinner after work?"
Rick made a sarcastic face.  "Are you stoned?  Of course I still want dinner.  I didn't get this big from starving myself."
Rick let out yet another belch, followed almost immediately by a slothful yawn.
"Oh no you don't, kido!"
"Blah blah blah! Wear you're pants! Don't eat other people's food! Don't steal candy from Trick or Treaters! Don't fall asleep at work! You're so anal!"
"Come on Greg.  It'll take both us to wedge him out of there."
Rick pretended to be unable to get out so, much to everyone's amusement, it really did take both guys to pull him out.


As they drove home Jon and Derick were fighting one-armed over a purloined bag of hamburgers. Jon had one hand on the wheel and Derick, of course, was using one hand to feed himself.  The only arguments they had nowadays were fat related; getting enough food and shoving their massive keisters into each other's increasingly inadequate pants.  Naturally these arguments never got serious at any point.  Even when drastically late they never got beyond teasing each other.  Gone and long forgotten were those times of enmity, save only as a reminder of how much they loved each other and how important their friendship was.

They had gotten off at 10:30 pm and were back in their boxers as soon as the front door was closed.  As soon as the bag of burgers was empty (taking only as long as it takes to waddle full speed from the door to the couch) over-sized bellies were hanging into plush laps as overstuffed rumps settled into the decrepit couch.  Derick munched on chips while massaging his blubber.  Jon  immediately began calling the regular list of take-outs (having an insanely conspiratorial chain of connexions to get free grub).  Jon began rubbing his belly as well while pounding back a beer, as the list of calls began.

By midnight Derick was hungry.  Despite the Chinese, the snacks, the burger feast, the ice cream AFTER the lunch and the burgers on the ride home; despite even the massive all-you-can-eat buffet for breakfast and the snacks before work; Derick was hungry.  His belly felt empty and he felt annoyed, at first.  Hunger wasn't something he felt often nor something he relished.  Yet he smiled.  To Jon it appeared as if he was innocently admiring his obesity.  Jon went into similar trances periodically.  After all, they were fat by choice.  They loved their bodies, as odd as that may sound to average folk, so they admired themselves and each other often.

This was not a normal belly rub for this big bellied boy.  He hated being hungry at first, as he always did, but he always smiled this secret smile after the first rumbles.  He knew that his belly was empty enough for a TRUE STUFFING.  He knew that soon he would be able to start really eating and not have to stop till five or six in the morning.  No stares, or tight pants, or snug booths, or belts, or buttons, or restraint from flatulence.  Alone with his brother and an empty belly, Derick knew he could let loose - truly let loose.  As he lay against his brother's love handle, he shook his blubber knowing that soon he would be able to act out in a way that would make his
previous gluttony look like perfect table manners!

As always, Jon's underground junk-food cabal came through.  Derick never understood how he knew so many people in the right places. Former girlfriends? Bribes?  Dealing pot? Blackmail?  Good tipping?  Mob connections?  Derick would guess, but Jon's answer was always like: "I'm just popular dude.  That and I'm owed a lot of favors.  It pays to be the nice guy sometimes."

At 12:05 the first guy showed up.  Round one was pizzas.  They didn't bother dressing, as the delivery guy was invariably a friend of Jon's.  They took turns answering the door, as there were several deliveries expected.  Before the last garlic-buttered slice of pepperoni had even touched Derick's plump lips the bell rang again, signaling the next course. He managed to roll to his feet and took off at a run - an honest to God run - which pounded the house and shook a picture off the mantle.

"Easy Rick!  If you're gonna exercise do it outside!"
"Screw you," He called as he returned, laden with donuts, éclairs, and cakes. "Don't speak that blasphemous word in my hearing!"
"Heh.  Funny Shakespeare.  Now shove some sugared lard my way.  Don't think you'll get those jellies all to yourself!"

Next it was Jon's turn to receive every fat kid's favorite Civil War vet: Colonel Sanders.  Despite his own advice he ran through the kitchen himself to get at the Colonel's Original Recipe.

Round four was BBQ pork and hot dogs, followed immediately by round five: sub sandwiches and pasta salad.

The penultimate round was more pizza.  This time there was three times as much; the leftover and canceled orders for the night from four different delivery services.

Gluttony!  The night was filled with munching, snacking, noshing, and lip-smacking.  The only other sounds were of laughter, torn containers, immense belches and passed wind of such horror (both in decibels and in stench) that even they were occasionally galled by the magnitude.

And so, by night's end, their bellies were undoubtedly satisfied.  But why settle for satisfied when perfect bliss is in reach? 

Jon slowly stumbled into the kitchen and unloaded the ice creams and cakes from the freezer to thaw a bit.  Then he started making his very delicious milk shakes.  Jon was fairly drunk so he didn't even argue when Derick convinced him to take care of all the deserts.  After all Rick wasn't done eating... Rick was fairly full... beyond satisfied.  He was nearly stuffed.  Rick smiled wickedly to himself. 

There was the mischief!  As Jon preoccupied himself with the final round, Rick devoured every last crumb of edible food left in the room.  Derick had been in love with fatness since he first started gaining.  All those months of fat friendship had been nearly perfect!  The two boys were inseparable again.  The only thing that was missing... the only thing marring the perfect life (in Derick's mind) was that he was so much smaller than Jon.  So he ate like a madman.  He ate like a bear before hibernation.  But he never slept off his precious weight!  He had accomplished his goal without realizing it weeks ago!  He was the same weight as his brother.  They were as close as twins as they could ever be.  But being identical was a childish fantasy Rick had given up long ago.  Now that he was this big he didn't want to stop - saw no reason to stop.  Derick loved the gaining as much as the being fat!  A few more pounds, he thought through the pizza.  Another hundred, maybe, he imagined during the donuts.  'I could weigh 600 pounds? Colonel Sanders won't mind the extra business!' Images of sumo wrestlers weighing over 700 pounds saturated his mind as the last of the second wave of pizza's went into him.  He rubbed his flabby middle and awaited his desert. 

"Why stop now?"  he murmured to himself.
Jon tottered in and crashed his huge body onto the spot next to him, arms full with cakes and shakes.  The latter spilling terribly onto his jiggly chest.
"Why stop what?"
"Uh... rubbing my belly.  It feels good! Heh."
"Damn straight!"  The drunk older brother rubbed the mess right into his skin and laughed it off.
"You ate all the stuff?"
"Guess so."
Jon laughed even louder and threw an arm over his brother's shoulders while handing him his enormous desert.  "Little bro... Whoops! BIG! Big bro, you are amazing!  I can't believe how big you got!  I've never seen anyone as hungry as you.  Don't worry none though.  Your....HA! little brother will keep this monster full."
Jon began rubbing his slimy, shake-covered hand over Rick's already sweaty and sauce spattered corpulence.
"You mean it bro? No matter how fat I get?"
Jon laughed louder then ever.  "Especially! Especially no matter how fat you get!"
"What?"
"Wait... Oh... Yes."
"You're drunk."
"I'm so drunk that made perfect sense to you, eh?"
"No.  Just regular nonsensical drunk."
"You're one to talk."
"I haven't had any beer."
"No.  But you're buzzed on food!  I saw that dreamy look on your face.  Can't deny it.  You get so stuffed with junk food you get high."
"OK.  I admit."
"Don't worry bud. Like I said.  It's all good!  We'll get a crane or something to get our fat asses down the the Big & Tall and get some sweat threads for this" and then he slapped he own massively overfed and overfattened gut.
"You're the best Jon."
"Heh. I know."
"Can I ask another favor?"
"Anything!"
"Are you gonna eat that desert? Or can I have it?"
"It was supposed to be for us both but... SURE!  It's all you can eat from here on Tubby Buddy!  Here! Manga manga! Eat eat!"

And Derick ate and ate.  He finished both deserts, with Jon's encouragement.  They planned to wait until their stomachs settled a bit before going to bed, but both boys passed out where they sat, enormous smiles on the faces of two enormous boys. Perhaps it seems weird to hear such a tale.  But to them, a tale of lads trying to keep six-pack abs while drinking a six pack each night might seem just as unusual.

Derick went to sleep dreaming of the holiday feasts he soon would ingest; he dreamed of being waited on by his sister while Jon rubbed his belly.  In the dreaming part of his mind he was growing so fat as to take up half the table!  In the last part of his waking mind there was a last thought before unconsciousness.

"I can eat all I want?  Why shouldn't I?"



Jon drifted into a blissful, dreamless sleep.  He could not then realize the monster created in Derick.  Little brother would not be satisfied with only 400 pounds of fat!


TO BE CONTINUED...


(Part 1)
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