LoakaChunk
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New Year's Resolution
🕑 Added 2018-01-10 23:27:54 +0000 UTC Gram woke up with a smile. Today was the day. The first day he would let everything else slide and focus on doing everything he wanted to do. No more living for somebody else - not his parents, his friends, or his teammates. Only Gram. And what Gram wanted to do was eat cold pizza and play video games.It was January first and thus a holiday, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch, but previous years would see him at a gym or an impromptu team practice or some ridiculous prep study session. He was giving up on all that. He’d already informed every sports team he was on (and there were many) that last year would be his last year competing so he could “focus on his grades”. His teammates and coaches were disappointed, but pulling the “grades” card meant nobody could really argue with him.
They didn’t need to know he was already getting straight As.
It wasn’t really that he disliked sports. It just wasn’t what he really wanted. He didn’t want to spend hours at a gym and then hours at a practice every day to run around catching or throwing a ball or a puck or whatever. He’d really only stuck with it since it was what his parents wanted, and then what everyone had come to expect from him. For years he’d pushed down his own wants and needs until he could barely remember them.
And then, one night last December he had a dream. It was bizarre, and like all dreams one he could barely remember upon waking, but there was something that stuck with him. It was himself sitting on a couch, surrounded by candy wrappers, geeking out on some brightly colored video game. It was something he hadn’t done since he was a chubby little kid in grade school, but at that moment he’d been struck by how incredibly happy he was, and upon waking he felt an equally incredible longing to go back there, no matter what it cost.
In fact, he made it an early New Year’s resolution.
For a month he’d planned his transition, Gram called it. He’d subtly hinted at, then dropped the news with each team he’d be quitting, and then made it all official. And now that it was January first his resolution was already in progress, and Gram couldn’t be happier.
Gram dusted off an old game console he hadn’t even touched in months and sat in bed munching on cold ‘za and only working out his thumbs.
A year later and not much had changed in Gram’s position. He’d just finished finals (breezing through them) and was intensely playing the latest iteration of the Bloody Scream franchise in the same spot he was a year ago. But that was about all that had stayed the same.
His room was a mess, now covered in candy wrappers and empty food containers. He hadn’t vacuumed or dusted in months, and the fact Gram spent much of his time in his room meant that there was a thick layer of dust on most of the flat surfaces. Empty beer bottles and a faintly smoldering bong lay on the bedside table, lending their stale aromas to the rich bouquet that permeated the room.
By far the most odiferous thing within the four walls was Gram himself. Hygiene was something he’d let slide unless he was going out, and Gram didn’t go out nearly as often as he needed to. On top of that, Gram sudden switch to a nearly all-junk food diet combined with a complete lack of exercise meant that he’d put on weight, and a lot of it.
His formerly all-American track star body had long since disappeared under a thick layer of flab. Unlike many classmates he saw with pooching bellies and wobbling rears, Gram seemed to gain equally almost everywhere. Every part of him was simply thick and rounded, with his belly a broad, doughy mass constantly exposed due to a wardrobe that had stopped fitting months ago.
Gram couldn’t begin to guess how much he’d gained, but sometimes at parties he’d hear people whisper he looked like he’d put on a hundred pounds. They might be right.
Oddly, at least to Gram, he didn’t mind the wanton destruction of his former body. In fact, he reveled in it, a living symbol of his success drive toward his own gratification and no one else's.
After reaching a save point, Gram decided it was indeed time for a little more self-gratification.
Reaching to the bong, Gram determined there was still enough weed for a solid toke. He lit the bowl and inhaled enough to make his barrel-torso expand to almost cartoon proportions. His many years' cross-country running had given him incredible capacity, which he used for his own ends now - just like everything else.
Letting out a plume of smoke that filled the room, Gram fell back on his bed, wrappers flying away from the impact and floating to the floor like feathers. This was the life, he thought, his head swimming with the oncoming rush of THC. Soon the buzzing sensation that filled his mind filtered down to his colossal body, every inch of his soft skin tingling.
This was what Gram enjoyed the most from his new size. He’d long since stopped manscaping and had been surprised to find a thick coating of fur cover himself after only a few months. Now each strand felt like a live wire as he ran his sausage-like fingers from his exposed middle to beneath his taught t-shirt, eventually landing on broad, puffy nipples.
Every part of Gram had grown, but none so much as his nips. Each had grown larger than a silver dollar topped with pinky-finger-sized bumps that were far more sensitive than ever before, and especially when he was high. He pinched and pulled his tits until they were both hard before flipping over his shirt to completely expose his flabby torso. He kept this up for some time, basking in the sensation his hairy and obese body gave him.
Eventually, he reached down to release his straining cock from his ripped and stained boxers. First he rubbed it on his soft belly, smearing pre-cum over the fur that covered it, before languidly stroking himself while still using his free hand to tug on his nipples, his hand gliding from his dense bush to thickly foreskinned tip.
Gram pleasured himself for nearly an hour, switching hands every so often, until he came voluminously over his belly, firing shot after shot of seed from his hour-long session. Coated in semen and blissed on the afterglow of his orgasm, he fell asleep atop sweat-stained sheets.
Gram dreamed. He dreamed of a man, an enormous man, constantly stuffing himself with food. Smaller men surrounded him, helping him, helping shovel more food into his mouth making him ever more corpulent. Between legs the size of tree-trunks he spotted yet more men rubbing and licking a shaft as big as a log and leaking a steady river of cum. Every so often his body shook as orgasm overtook him, a fleshy earthquake that swept away all before him.
Gram woke up to find his hand glued to the fur on his belly, his semen turned to cement while he slept. He cursed, and then screamed as his hand removed a distinctly hand-shaped area of hair from his torso. Then he hauled himself up and turned on his game. He’d very nearly gotten to the boss, and he wanted to move on to the sequel before next semester.
