Chapter 11
Next morning, Bucky was woken up by Steve returning to the cabin. He checked his phone to see a text he'd received an hour earlier.
Steve: I'm going out to the store for groceries. I might still be gone when you wake up. Xo
He scrolled through Instagram while Steve flitted around the kitchenette under the loft that made up the bedroom. After he finished, the blond poked his head into the bedroom.
"Oh, good! You're up." He jumped into bed and gave Bucky's forehead a kiss.
"You're energetic today," Bucky observed.
"I'm excited," Steve confessed. "I made a diagram." He flashed his dual phone screen at Bucky, filled with numbers.
"Jesus, you're extra. Let me see."
"Nope!" Steve jumped up, locking his screen. Bucky knew his password anyway, the date he started testosterone. "Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You'll weigh yourself now, when you're empty. I have a few meals planned, but obviously we'll keep you full with snacks in the meantime. We'll try to keep you in bed as much as possible, burning as few calories as possible. I'm aiming for around 10 thousand a day, but it's okay if we don't hit that immediately. It's not important if your capacity isn't crazy to begin with. We're focused on consistency, not quantity."
"Oh, are we?" Bucky replied, entertained. It was cute to watch Steve plan everything out. He'd let him maintain the illusion of control, if only to make it more exciting when he took it back.
"Color?" Steve asked timidly.
"Green."
"Good! Then I need to get started." He disappeared back into the kitchen.
Bucky got out of bed, used the bathroom and stood on the scale Steve had conveniently placed beside the tub. He realized he was actually having some difficulty seeing around the curve of his gut. Fortunately, the number held for a few seconds, so he stepped off and read the display.
310.
Damn. He'd gained 5 pounds in around 3 weeks, almost double what his previous weight had been. He was only 20 away from their next goal.
Before Steve returned, he got back into bed and set up the pillows against the oaken headboard, making a comfortable backrest since he'd be spending most of the week there. He tucked the comforter underneath the overhang of his tummy, looking out of the huge window at the coils of mist move over the lake in the chilly mountain air.
Steve brought back a tray practically bending under the weight of the food piled on it. He smiled warmly at seeing Bucky still in bed. He sat the tray on the bed next to him, and Bucky took inventory of what was there.
"Bring me my laptop," he commanded. "I'll need some entertainment if I'm going to be here all day."
Steve scurried off to fetch Bucky's bag, and returned with his own breakfast, a modest yogurt. He curled up on the bed beside Bucky on his Switch, playing the new Zelda game.
Bucky was hungry. He started with the cinnamon buns, the kind from a can, warm and freshly iced. There was fruit on the tray, too, breakfast sausages, mini muffins, a generous slice of quiche, and french toast sticks.
The cinnamon buns went down easy. He'd polished off six by himself before, so it wasn't hard to finish an entire pack by himself. He had a large swig of milk to wash it down, and then moved on to fruit to cleanse his palate. "How much did this all cost?"
"Don't worry about it," Steve replied immediately. "I'm going to treat you like a king this week. This isn't even making a dent in how much there is."
Bucky watched Steve play for a while, finishing the berries and moving onto sausages. There were six, and by the time he finished them he was feeling really full. He adjusted, scooting down in bed to give his belly more room. He went for two of the mini muffins next, swallowing them with difficulty. It was easier than he thought to overindulge. He often ate all of the food in front of him, even if it was more than was comfortable, just because it was there. It was rare that he made leftovers, and having more food than he could finish available was actually a little exciting. While he wasn't turned on from stuffing in the same way that Steve was, it made him feel valued and loved, and it all tasted so good.
"Need a break, baby," he huffed, stretching and rubbing his tummy.
Steve observed him with interest, eyeing the tray. "How about you finish the rest of the mini muffins and I'll warm your cock?"
Bucky groaned. There were two muffins left, bite-sized. If he did, he would be miserable. But not sick. He shoved both of the mini muffins in his mouth at once and pulled out his cock. Steve grinned and arranged himself in between Bucky's legs, closing his eyes and holding Bucky's cock in his mouth as it hardened. Bucky put a stand-up comedy special on his laptop and set it on Steve's back, rubbing his overtaxed belly as it groaned. Near the end of the special his balls were screaming for release, and he moved the laptop to fuck Steve's mouth. He came in moments, and patted Steve's head.
"Need a nap," he whined, pulling the blanket up to his chest and falling into a food coma.
When he woke up, it was several hours later. Steve held out a glass of what looked like chocolate milk and Bucky sat up, accepting it. "Were you watching me sleep? Creep." He took a sip of the drink and frowned.
"Boost," Steve told him. "720 calories."
"Quit telling me the calories in things," Bucky said after draining the glass. He felt a little better after his nap. "It takes the fun outta things."
"Did you weigh yourself?"
"310."
Steve groaned, openly palming his groin. "Ready for lunch?"
Bucky was full, but only sort of. "Yeah, bring it on."
Steve returned with a deli wrapped sub. Bucky ate it slowly, watching something else to get his mind off how full he felt. He looked it, too, especially after finishing half the sub. His belly was completely round and felt stretched out, his belly button shallower than normal from all the food packed inside. He realized unpleasantly that he had to shit, his metabolism working double time to digest everything. Once he came back, he'd made some room, slowly finishing the other half of the sub.
By that time, it was almost evening. Steve gave him a belly rub and grinded on his leg until he was ready for more food. The instant it didn't feel like he would pop if he had another bite, he nodded and told Steve. The blond fetched him dessert, a humongous slice of cheesecake.
"Honey, this is so heavy," Bucky complained.
"I'll blow you again," Steve promised.
Bucky grunted but agreed, eating it slowly and sucking on the fork between each bite. He was so hot, and he couldn't get comfortable, sitting higher up and then further down, rubbing his tummy and trying to belch to free up space. "Jesus, honey. 'm so full. Don't know how much more I can have." But slowly, over the next two hours, he finished the huge bite of cheesecake.
"You're doing so good, Daddy," Steve praised, rubbing his poor belly. He was cramping so bad, but it was worth it for the way Steve's blue eyes were lighting up. "This is the fucking hottest thing I've ever seen."
Bucky asked for a drink and Steve brough him a whole 2 liter of soda. He nursed it slowly, and the carbonation helped settle his belly. At almost midnight, Steve brough him another of boost, and a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Bucky was able to finish all of it, and by the end, he felt like he was pregnant, sweating and panting around his massive midsection.
"Jesus, I've never been so full in my life," he panted.
Steve looked at him like he was a god. "You did so good! You want to know how many calories?"
"Sure."
"Almost 7,000."
Bucky groaned and arched his back. "Feels like it."
Steve rubbed lotion on his tummy, a hand drifting lower to his groin.
"No more," Bucky pleaded. "Just wanna sleep." He fell asleep on his back, which he never did.
"Bucky," a voice called, rousing him from his dreams. "Bucky."
He woke up slowly. It was still dark. "Whuh?" he mumbled. "Whas happen."
Steve handed him a glass.
"No, no boost," he protested.
"It's not," Steve assured him. "It's a milkshake. You can say no."
"Can say whatever the hell I want," Bucky grumbled, but took the glass. The condensation was cool on his hand, and his throat was dry. He tipped the glass to his lips, the thick vanilla mixture sliding easily down his throat. He finished it in one sitting, putting the glass on the side table and falling back asleep.
He woke the next morning with no more disturbances. Steve was absent from the bedroom, probably working on breakfast. Bucky stretched and yawned. He still felt bloated, but no longer full. He stood and went to the bathroom, stretching his sore legs. He was usually sedentary, working from home and never walking much further than the distance of the apartment, but staying in bed all day was a different kind of sedentary. He used the toilet and then observed himself in the mirror. He definitely looked bigger; his tummy was bloated, a little rounder than usual, and a few new fresh stretch marks decorated just above his belly button. He stepped on the scale, waited a few seconds, and stepped off stiffly.
314.
He knew a decent bit of that had to be water weight. He'd likely weigh less throughout the day (well, normally would, if he wasn't shoving a ridiculous amount of food down his throat), and settle on a real number the next day. But the number was likely to climb all through the week, only showing a number that displayed the fat he'd gained after the week of hedonism was over.
Steve caught him staring at the scale. He came up behind him, groping his belly and hefting the weight. "Hey, sexy. How are you feeling? Any second thoughts?"
The support felt nice. "Nah. 'm okay. It said 314."
Steve breathed in sharply. "Accurately, you probably only gained about two pounds of fat at most."
"I know." Bucky turned and got back in bed, tummy rumbling, although he wasn't sure if it was from hunger or digestion. "What's for breakfast?"
Steve presented him with an entire quiche, including the slice he'd passed over yesterday. It was cut into quarters, but Bucky made quick work of it along with the sugary coffee Steve had brought him.
"So, am I allowed any activities this week?"
Steve was eating his own muffin. "Of course. That might even help. Activity will make you hungry, and you're likely to eat even more."
"I don't want to do a whole lot," Bucky added. "Maybe just canoeing near the end of the trip."
Steve nodded. "That's perfect. Our last night, we'll have dinner on the lake."
After he finished the coffee, Steve held up a can of whipped cream, squirting it into Bucky's mouth. It went down easy, light and sugary. Bucky took it himself, aerating as he swallowed. Steve fondled his balls with one hand, brushing the head of his cock against the velvet underside of his belly. Bucky moaned as he drank the whipped cream, arching his back.
"I want you to come on yourself," Steve told him, spitting on one hand to moisten his shaft as he jacked him off.
Bucky could feel the can getting lighter. He rocked his hips into Steve's touch, pushing his own dick further into the soft fat. Precum dampened the overhang of his gut as he got closer, and before the can was out, he'd climaxed.
Steve bent down to lick it all off, then came up to kiss Bucky. Bucky didn't love the taste of himself, but he loved Steve's filthy mind, slipping some tongue into the kiss.
"God, you're so perfect," he breathed, tweaking Steve's nipples through the shirt he was wearing, one of Bucky's old ones. "When do you get to come, baby?"
"Whenever you want, Daddy."
"I want you to come now." He moved one hand down to fondle Steve's folds, and the blond was soaking wet, the most turned on he'd ever felt him. With his other hand, he pulled on Steve's hair, forcing him to bend down awkwardly over Bucky's tummy, careful of his fullness. The younger man spread his knees further apart on the bed, Bucky making vulgar sounds as he fingered him. He was gasping and shuddering in minutes, squirting into Bucky's hand. The brunet brought his palm up to his face, tasting Steve.
"You take care of me so well, Daddy." Steve curled up next to Bucky under his arm, using his soft pec as a pillow. "I can't believe you're doing this for me."
Bucky would do just about anything he asked.
He had a surprise planned for their picnic on the canoe as well. He hoped it would go over well.
He sipped on another glass of boost until he was ready for another meal. Steve made him a massive taco salad in a bowl, with crushed up shells at the bottom, easily a quarter pound of ground beef, tomatoes and lettuce buried under a thick layer of shredded cheese and at least a quarter cup of sour cream. Bucky appreciated the amount of preparation Steve had clearly put into making sure there was a good variety of food for the week. Eating was easier today; either because of the content of the food, or because he'd stretched his stomach out that badly yesterday. He was only just past comfortably full after he finished the bowl, and Steve brought him half a chocolate cake for dessert. He was much less bored than he'd thought he would be; content to just eat insane amounts of food and watch dumb videos beside the love of his life. He found himself absentmindedly stroking his belly as he ate the cake, not to soothe it, but rather just feeling himself up, the curve and weight of it. It was comforting, warm and sated.
He was struggling to get through a quarter of the cake, slowing down after a good half hour of eating it. He found his jaw was even getting tired.
Steve surprised him by taking the plate from him. "I'll be back," he called, disappearing down the spiral staircase. Bucky heard the sounds of a blender and had a clue to what he was doing. He returned with a huge cup of a thick shake-esque substance. "Cakeshake," he explained, handing it to Bucky.
He'd blended it with vanilla ice cream. The change in temperature was what was needed to push through. He finished it slowly, belly expanding to take up more of his lap. It gurgled angrily, sitting fat and heavy on his thighs. His lids were getting heavy, and he settled down for another food coma.
When he woke, it was dark. Steve was tucked into his side, watching videos on his phone.
He stirred, and Steve handed him a cup once he realized he was awake. There was more cakeshake inside, the last of the half that hadn't fit into the blender. Bucky sipped it and Steve fetched the next course.
It was soup, which Bucky was glad for; a decent sized portion of Italian wedding in a bowl sat on a plate with four slices of buttered bread. He ate it at moderate speed, feeling a little sluggish from all the food, but not as stuffed as last night. By the time he finished all the bread, he was closer to it. He was reclined so much he might as well have been laying, lower field of his vision filled with the soft dome of his belly.
"You look so full I bet you wouldn't even fit in your shirts right now," Steve observed, pupils blown wide. They'd bought a new wardrobe before departing for their vacation, but hadn't brought many clothes for Bucky, apprehending nudity.
Bucky motioned lazily at the dresser. Steve leapt up and brought back one of the new shirts, a red 4xl henley. Bucky would be disappointed if he didn't fit it, since it was so new. He sat up a little and held up his arms, allowing Steve to dress him like a toy. It went on easily enough, but draped over the round expanse of his gut, pulling tight at the bottom. It was hard to tell while he was seated.
"Stand?" Steve begged, and Bucky huffed as he slid his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood.
Immediately, all the weight of his poor tummy felt like it tripled, pulled down by gravity instead of resting in his lap. It hung a good inch lower than it normally did, getting embarrassingly close to his dick. The top of it was completely hard with no give to it, bloated and obscuring his view of his lower body completely. He groaned and supported it with his hands, feeling how the shirt rested snugly along the curve of it, just short of covering it completely. He sat down right away, relieving the weight of it. He peeled the shirt off and tossed it at Steve, who was trying to conceal his joy.
"It's probably just because you're so bloated. I'm sure it'll still fit," he comforted.
"Shut up," Bucky told him, but he really didn't mind. His stomach was cramping from all the motion, painful stitches shooting up the sides. "Gimme some soda."
Steve happily complied, giving him a 2 liter. Bucky drank it slowly for the rest of the night until it was finished. He was too grumpy for sex, rubbing his poor belly and trying to find some comfort. It made noises all night, grumbling and churning as his body tried to digest the attack upon his insides.
"Just over 8000," Steve whispered in his ear as he was trying to fall asleep.
Bucky groaned, tensing his abdomen and trying to force the air out.
Day 1:
Breakfast: 2620
Lunch: 2370
Dinner: 1770
Total: 6760
Day 2:
Breakfast: 3710
Lunch: 2889
Dinner: 1794
Total: 8393