Product Description
Date (relative): Sophomore year, second semester
Location: Dorm room, late night
Current Body Snapshot: 5’9”, 235lbs; powerfully built but thick all over—gut heavy, thighs dense, arms stronger than ever but rounded
Tails: Two tails, thick and slow in the heat. Plum fur slick with sweat. Amber belly fur pushing out beneath the shirt like it always does now
Memory Flashback
We’d just come back from a house party off campus. Someone had strapped a keg to a dolly and called it “engineering.” I’d already eaten enough takeout for two before we left—buffalo wings, cheese fries, something deep-fried and breaded I don’t remember ordering. The beer just stacked on top of it all.
Back at the dorm, I peeled off my shirt before I even hit the bed. It was too tight, clung to the sweat at the curve of my lower back. My roommate and I were laughing at something on his phone, then at me.
“You’re gonna explode,” he said, and aimed his camera.
I groaned, arms flopping wide. My gut was swollen, domed up like a stretched-out drum. I could feel it rising and falling with each breath.
“I can’t even roll over,” I muttered. My voice sounded too thick in my own ears. I wasn’t that drunk anymore. Just full. Too full. Full enough to feel the roundness of myself. Full enough that I could barely shift without rocking side to side.
He filmed me trying to sit up. I managed it on the third try, panting, belly settling heavy in my lap like a challenge. We both laughed, but I saw his eyes pause at the slope of my gut. I noticed. I don’t think I was supposed to.
He sent me the video later. Said it was for motivation. Said it was hilarious. I saved it anyway.
I’ve watched it a million times, hand slipping down every time like it wasn’t a decision.
Emotional Reflections
I used to lift for speed. For applause. For angles in the mirror. Now I move through space like I’m carving out a bigger place just by existing.
At first, I told myself it was simply a bulk. Still part of the plan. But the plan got fuzzier with every meal. Every round of seconds. Every night I went to bed stuffed and hot and buzzing and harder than I wanted to admit.
Sometimes I scrolled through kink forums I’d found by googling words that resonated with me. I didn’t understand all of it. Inflation. Feeder stuff. Transformation stories. Mpreg. But I saved them. And I touched myself to them. And afterward I felt like I’d failed at something I never got the rules for.
Physical Sensations
The feeling of taught skin and fur pressed against outgrown clothing. Damp heat between my thighs when I sit too long. T-shirt hems riding up when I’m not paying attention. Bloating past comfort, into curiosity. The drag of my own weight when I try to reposition in bed. The moment when it stops feeling like discomfort and starts feeling like being claimed by something bigger than appetite.
Self-Talk & Lessons
This body isn’t about discipline anymore. Not really.
It’s about desire. And I don’t know whose it is.
Foreshadowing
Coach Ryker used to tell me I was building a machine. Gavin told me softness could be a kind of pride. Neither of them mentioned what happens when you get off on becoming the thing you built.
I don’t think this ends where I thought it would.
And I’m not sure I want it to.
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