House of Marvels (Part 9)

Sorry for the break in the middle of the story, but thank you to everyone who has commissioned flash stories from me so far! It’s a big help with moving expenses. I’m still open, and while I might close the pot at the end of the month, everyone will (most likely) get their stories. If you want one, ask now!


Raury finally made it back to campus, and had to stop when he reached a bench near one of the classroom buildings to take a breather. He’d been moving quickly, but not running or jogging, but he was still winded somehow. The air didn’t feel right to him–no matter how hard he breathed, it felt like he was missing something. As much as he hated naming the desire, he wanted the smoke–Eric’s smoke. He could still taste it on his breath, feel it in his lungs, lingering. He forced a cough, trying hard to get it out of him, and thought he could see a few little wisps leave him as he did, and he waved them away, worried they might try to get back inside him when he inhaled again.

He pulled out his phone and texted Sam while he recovered his breath, wanting to know where he was so they could talk about what had happened. Sam was glad to hear from him, and wanted to know if Eric had come to his senses and wanted to get help. Raury told him it would be better if they talked about it in person; he honestly didn’t know where to begin with what he’d seen, and what Eric had tried to do to him down in that basement. That, and how much he still wanted to go back, and let him do it to him. Breathing wasn’t getting much easier, but Sam told him they should just meet at the dining hall nearby, so he hefted himself upright and headed in that direction, his gut growling a bit at the thought of food. The walk wasn’t far, but by the time he got there his lungs were already tired again, and he was shaking a little, licking his lips, and even a bit dizzy and nauseous. There were some chairs inside, and he sat back down in one, coughing again, harder this time, trying to dislodge whatever it was that was inside him. He was certain that something was in him now–he could almost feel it, but he was also starting to think that no amount of coughing would dislodge it. It was deeper than his lungs now, running in his veins through his flesh, infusing him. He remembered how strange Eric’s body had looked, and wondered if he was changing too. He looked down at his arms, looking for any rashes, felt around his face, but froze when he felt around his mouth, and the thick stubble that had appeared since leaving Mr. Field’s home.

He looked around, hoping for a mirror, but there was nothing nearby. He pushed himself back up, and then saw Sam enter through a door on the other side of the space and waved at him. Sam saw him wave, and looked at him with a confused look, which them turned into shock, and he hurried over. “Raury? What…what in the hell is wrong? Are you feeling alright?”

Raury wasn’t sure how Sam could know he wasn’t feeling well from across the room, but he nodded, “Yeah, I…I feel a bit sick, from that smoke I guess.”

Sam just stared at him, or at his midsection more accurately, “Raury…you’re fat.”

He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his shirt was riding up over the small gut which had sprouted while he walked to campus. He grabbed it, and could feel it pushing against his hands–it was still growing. It wasn’t air or gas either–it was fat, and it gave a loud growl of hunger as a cramp struck him, nearly bending him over. “Fuck, I’m…what the fuck?”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No–no, I need to eat, I’m…I’m ok, I just need some food first. I can’t…afford a hospital anyway.”

Sam tried to insist, and even threatened to call for an ambulance, but Raury refused, mostly out of denial. This couldn’t be happening to him, and if he actually went to the hospital, then he’d have to actually grapple with what he’d seen…but the hunger was quickly crowding out every other concern. He went to the cafeteria, Sam following along behind him, watching as Raury piled a tray high–much higher than Raury usually did, and headed for the exit. Sam noticed a few other things about his once thin friend as they went to a table–the thick stubble around his mouth that Raury had felt before, and now forgotten about in his hunger, but also the fact that his friend’s hairline was receding slightly, and both temples had picked up a slight tinge of grey.

He kept trying to get Raury’s attention about all of this, but all his friend seemed to be focusing on was the food in front of him. He ate with a frenzy, and from his eyes, he was even scaring himself with the sheer desperate need filling him. All the while, his gut continued to expand, from a small paunch to a proper gut hanging out into his lap, the rest of his body filling out slightly as well, especially in his chest, becoming two moobs also resting on his new gut. After half an hour of stuffing himself, and with the tray of food almost exhausted, Raury let out a loud belch and finally managed to slow himself down as the hunger subsided. In fact, he felt much better all over–the nausea, exhaustion and dizziness seemed to have cleared up, and he finally felt like he could think clearly. He looked over at Sam, the first time he’d managed to acknowledge his friend sitting there, and blushed at the look of shock across his face, then looked down at himself, taking in what his self-stuffing had done to his figure.

He was…massive. His gut had expanded out over his thighs, and was falling down between them, pushing them apart. He grabbed it in his hands, kneading it, and let out a surprising groan, his cock responding immediately to the sensation. “Fuck…I didn’t…know being fat felt this fucking good…”

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