[Story] If You Love it, Let it Grow

I

“Dude, you forgot to button your pants.” I finally said.

“I wish that were true.” Wes said. “I’m just lazy and cheap.”

I glanced at his belly, which stuck out all the more prominently in his tight red t-shirt. “What do you mean?”

He patted his belly. “Too many trips to frozen yogurt shops.”

“You look good to me.”

“No, don’t say that.” He groaned. “I gotta get back to the gym.”

You probably wouldn’t say Wes was in desperate need of a gym, though he was a bit rounder in the middle than a doctor might recommend. I knew better. We went to college together. Miserable, closeted college Wes had been a machine of intelligence, muscle, and insecurity. The girls he dated shrugged. I too shrugged and suffocated my feelings—who had time to romance an unresponsive straight man?

Well, his boyfriend, for one. The social media revelation of his first real relationship coaxed the vodka and ice cream out of my freezer. I ached when I thought of what the idyllic moments we spent playing video games or shooting hoops could have evolved into.

But that was in the past, much like his narrow waistline, it seemed. The feelings I thought died before graduation two years ago began to piece themselves together in my heart. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to go on. And so I reverted to innocence, flattery, idiocy…

“Why? Like I said, you look good.”

“You can’t bullshit me, Greg. I’m not 160 pounds anymore.”

“I mean, I’m not 150 pounds either.”

“Yeah, but how much do you weigh now?”

Straightforward if not straight. I liked that. “About 165.”

“Fifteen pounds?” His musical chuckle erupted. “Not to boast, but I think I’ve got you beat. Guess how much I weigh.”

“Uh…” To be frank, he was probably 200 pounds, but I should definitely be polite. “I’d say around 180, give or take a bit.”

“Try 215 pounds.”

I laughed and joked with him for a moment before he hit me with the force that seemed to cut blood flow from my brain for a few seconds. He pulled up his shirt, letting his newly acquired weight pop out into plain sight. His slightly fuzzy belly hung out over an inch over his pants, and his fresh love handles made him look like he was packed into his clothes, waiting to be undone. The smirk on his face as he let me gaze on his gooey interior… God, it was I who was undone.

I struck with the jubilant force of a child with a toy store gift card. I put my hand on his belly and gave it a jiggle. It exhilarated like an unexpected breath of clean air.

“Looks like Travis is a good cook.”

“Oh, god, Travis hates it.” Wes groaned. He replaced his shirt, but the image was already burned into my mind. “He put me on some low-carb diet, but it sucks so much ass. I can’t do it—like I literally can’t do it.”

“Oh, sorry I offered you carbs.”

“No, don’t apologize.” He looked down at the muffin crumbs. “I know it’s terrible, but I cheat all the time. Carbs are too fucking delicious. I just gotta get back to the gym. I’ll lose ten pounds and maybe Travis will leave me alone.”

“I don’t know why he’s upset. You carry it very well.”

“Greg, you don’t have to do that. I know I’m getting fat.”

“I don’t think that’s fair, but…does it upset you?”

Wes’s face lit up. “You know what? You’re the first person to ask me how I feel about my weight. First person.” He paused for a good ten seconds. “First time I noticed I was getting bigger, I kinda freaked out. You look down and you’re like, ‘Where did this come from?’ But after a while you get used to it. I mean, what’s the alternative? Not eating things? I love eating things.”

“Nothing wrong with doing what you love, right?”

He placed a hand around my shoulder. His soft torso brushed up against my arm. It felt how the aftertaste of velvety chocolate tasted.

“There’s a lot more to life than being a twink or a jock.” He said. “Being honest and open about my sexuality, dating Travis, pursuing cooking… These are things I value.”

“That’s great, Wes. You seem a lot more satisfied than when we were in college.”

He confirmed that he was.

After that candid meeting, he slipped out of my life again, back to what he loved.

II

“You grew a beard.” I said. “I love it!”

Wes’s beard wasn’t the only thing that had grown. Last year, his belly was a chubby little bump that filled out his shirt and poked out over his pants. Now it swelled over his belt and distorted the horizontal stripes that ran across his shirt. His broad shoulders seemed less out of place now that they were framed by doughy pectorals and strong but soft arms. His face had filled out enough that his chin doubled, a fact his beard was unable to conceal.

“Thanks, dude. And your haircut—it’s really cute.”

I thanked him in turn. I asked if I could offer him anything to eat.

“Yes, the more carbs the better,” he said with surprising force.

“Can do.” I pulled out a small box of donuts I had hidden in case he wasn’t in the mood. “Cheat day?”

“Can’t have a cheat day if there’s nothing to cheat on.” He glanced at his bulging middle as if to assure himself his statement were the case.

“Well, didn’t sound like you were enjoying the diet anyway.”

“No, man. I love eating too much.”

“You mean ‘Passionate about culinary arts.’ ” I said knowingly. He happily consumed a donut and instinctively licked the glaze from his fingers. “I think you look great, man.”

“Greg, you’re too nice.” He grabbed a second donut. “I feel great. I’m getting used to having a little more bounce in my step.”

“A little bounce?”

Wes’s fingers disappeared under his overhang. He lifted it up and let it jiggle back into place. “See what I mean?”

I laughed. “I love it. How much do you weigh now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“You really wanna know?”

I nodded, unsure whether the excitement in my pants or in my mind was more dizzying.

“As of a couple days ago, I am the proud owner of 270 pounds.”

“Damn, really?”

Wes looked happy with my reaction. “Yes! Part of me is surprised, part of me isn’t surprised at all.”

I laughed with him. “I won’t lie, I had to do a double-take when you got here.”

“Like, ‘How is this fat guy Wes?’ Well, remember Casey Williams? I ran into him a few months ago at a brewery, and he didn’t even recognize me. I had to wave him down before he finally figured out it was me. You should have seen his expression.” Wes did an impression of Casey, cartoonishly widening his eyes and glancing nervously at my midriff.

“Oh my god, I can totally see Casey doing that.”

“Right? He was like, ‘Uh, dude, you got big.’ No shit, Sherlock.” Wes paused to eat a third donut. “I think my favorite one might be this one guy that I went on a few dates with—he saw me, didn’t even talk to me, and then sent me this long message about how much better I used to look, how my clothes were too tight, and how I needed to accept I was too fat and had to lose weight.”

“You’re kidding—that’s so rude.”

“I replied, ‘I wear my pants that tight so that you can’t get into them.’ — Then he blocked me, ha.”

“That’s perfect.” I said. “I love how confident you are about it.”

He rubbed his gut. “Gotta be comfortable in your own skin.”

When I looked into his bearded visage, my heart ached. He needed someone—and of course I wanted him to need me. But this chunky, upbeat charmer remained off-limits. And still, I asked the question:

“How are you and Travis doing?”

“We haven’t been together for a few months.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” (Whatever I was feeling, it probably wasn’t sorrow.)

“That’s why I moved back. But I’m sure you wanna hear the details.”

My face flushed. He knew me better than I thought.

“It’s okay, it would be healthy for me to tell it back to a friend.” He looked out the window. His tight jeans emphasized just how much his butt had ballooned. He was a balanced figure of meat and softness from top to bottom. “You remember I was going to lose 10 pounds and hope it shut him up. Well, neither of those things happened. He was mad when he found out about how much I was ignoring the diet. Maddest I’ve ever seen him. Which, he had a right to feel betrayed, I recognize that. But…what he called a compromise was I would get serious and fix my diet for real, or he would leave me.”

“Wait, how is that a compromise?”

“Yeah, exactly. In his mind, it qualified as a compromise because I had to give up food, and he had to put up with my weight longer than he wanted to. That should have told me everything I needed to know, but I didn’t want to throw it all away. And he had me so emotionally vulnerable…I agreed to his ‘compromise.’ I actually tried for a week, but soon I was putting on weight again. And…he kept his word.”

“Oh my god, Wes, I had no idea.”

Hugging him felt better than curling up in bed after a long day. He let out a few muffled sobs, but we just kept hugging. Finally, he let go.

“You know what, it’s not that I’m even upset for myself. I mean yeah, it hurts when someone who used to call you handsome says you’re too fat to be loved, but what’s worse is the manipulation and the passive anger. ‘Is eating that a good idea—are you getting your walks in—you used to be so thin’—it got so fucking old. I just wanted my man back, but I he didn’t see us as man and man as much as body and body. And my body turned into something foreign to him.”

“You’re the same person to me.” I said. “Good old Wes.”

“Thanks, Greg. That means a lot to me. It’s hard to be confident all the time.”

Something in my mind clicked, and I slid my hand under his shirt and began rubbing his doughy belly. He smiled, his double chin creasing with his dimples.

“I always thought your smile was adorable.” I said before I could even comprehend what my motives were for speaking. “I think it’s even cuter now.”

My hand was still on his belly as our eyes met. We stared at each other for a moment. It was like he was speaking, though we said nothing. I stepped close enough to him that his belly touched mine. Our shirts rode up as we slid our hands around each other’s middles. His soft gut sunk into my torso like we were two puzzle pieces. I pressed my fingers into his soft back, but before I could take in the sensation, his lips touched mine with a yielding firmness that sent thrills through my frame. He grabbed me and pressed me into his soft, manly hulk. We kissed for five minutes without speaking.

“That was good.” He finally said.

I nodded. “I like spending time with you, Wes.”

“I like it too.” He said.

“You wanna…go out?” I caught my breath.

“If you don’t mind being with my fat ass.”

I let my hands sink into his chubby sides. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

“Really?”

I’d wanted to say it for so long. The release of those words was more of a salve than I knew. “You’re a good man. I want to know you better. Hear what what you like, what you dislike. Learn how to cook the way you like.”

“That sounds perfect. You’ll love my recipes: guaranteed to put some meat on your bones.”

I grabbed his overhang and moved in for a kiss. “I think that’s a guarantee I can trust.”