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Moderation isn't an Option

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Mishima had -- without a nicer term -- gotten fat after he quit volleyball. He had almost doubled his weight from constant stress eating, and living a life alone, programming the entire day if he wasn’t at school.

 

With a loud burp, Mishima tapped away at his computer during golden week. He was pretty bottom heavy, the only thing containing his ass and thighs now were a pair of sweatpants that were getting a bit snug. Mishima didn’t care. He had outgrown most of his clothing anyway, evident by the way his belly wasn’t contained by his tight shirt or his pants, and spilled out onto his lap. A chubby hand reached into a bag of chips, pulling out a handful of the greasy and salty food.

 

He let his other hand drop down to scratch his gut. Mishima had lived quite sedentary for a while, and he barely moved around much anymore, even if he was at school. He only moved at home for meals and sleep, and always had high-calorie munchies by his bed. He ballooned due to this, and that’s why he was as he is now.

 

Little to Mishima’s knowledge, his friend Akira was deeply infatuated with Mishima’s fat body. He loved the piggy nature he had now. He couldn’t stand just watching anymore. He needed to get up close and personal.

 

Akira invited Mishima out to a buffet, wanting to slowly plump him up more.

 

“Mishima, I’ll get you whatever you want.” He smiled, helping Mishima into his seat. He was clearly going to burst out of his button down shirt and pants, but that only turned Akira on. Mishima only smiled, thinking. “Cake! And sweets. Lots of it, being that it’s so expensive.” He stated, watching Akira walk off.

 

Akira returned a bit later, with plates piled high with cakes, brownies, and cookies. Anything for Mishima. He watched him dig in, as he tried to be neat. But frosting and crumbs got on his face, and Akira thought he made a cute little pig. He headed back to the buffet, getting more food for Mishima.

 

Once he came back again, Akira noticed Mishima’s stomach had strained against his shirt and pants. Akira could feel himself getting hard. “Hey. I got you more cake.” He told him, placing the gigantic slice in front of him. Mishima started to eat, and then a pop could be heard.

 

“Did I… Lose a button?” He asked, feeling ashamed. Akira picked up the button, nodding. “Yeah.”

 

He sighed, and started eating again.

 


 

Months passed just like this, Akira waiting on Mishima and Mishima growing slightly more dependant on him, and gaining a lot more weight. He was out of school due to the fact that he needed a custom uniform now, because he had gotten so big.

 

Mishima weighed in the 200 range now, and he didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. He had Akira waiting on him, getting him large amounts of food when his stomach demanded it. He was eating almost 5,000 calories a day, which only made him balloon even more with his no-movement lifestyle. Mishima hadn’t been on a scale in awhile, meaning he truly didn’t know the damage he was doing. With Akira slipping heavy cream into his milk, and Mishima always having a box of snacks nearby, he was only going to get heavier.

 

Once he got back to school, his clothes were snug already. He found himself having to unbutton his pants within the first week. His shirt rode up his belly constantly, and he could barely fit into his desk.

 

He snacked during school too. He constantly was filling his mouth with calorie dense foods, twinkies, chips. Anything fatty, his hands were on it. All supplied by his friend Akira, who helped him balloon into such a pig.

 

Even if he had his food taken away, Akira supplied him with more. It got to the point where his belly was out and his pants had to be unbuttoned at all times, or buttoned under his gut.

 

They took him out of school again for another custom uniform. He only got fatter. He ate more and more, and Akira only assisted him.

 

Fatter and fatter, Mishima was slipping out of his new uniform the moment he got into it. They gave up, and just told him to do online courses. And Akira was there for that too. He supplied massive amounts of food to him, and Mishima was finishing it all. He started to groan and oink for food, though Akira rarely asked him to do that. He didn’t fit into his sweatpants anymore, them tight around his underbelly. He could barely get them over his ass anymore, which was the biggest part of him, besides his belly.

 

The elastic snapped one day, leaving Mishima with a slightly better fitting pair of pants. That didn’t last long. He ripped the seat of them, but Akira was quick to buy him new ones. Same with the shirts he had.

 

Mishima was such a helpless pig at this point, dependant on Akira for everything. Food, clothing, self care, Mishima couldn’t help but whine and cry for Akira. He’d become a spoiled brat, and as Akira’s help dwindled, he slowly started to realize the damage he had done to himself.

 

“Akira…!” He whined, squishing his stomach. “Can you help me lose weight, please!?” He begged, lifting his hefty body from his chair. Akira could only snicker, grabbing Mishima’s large stomach as it reached him.

 

“Are you upset with yourself, Yuuki?” He questioned, giving him a gentle shake. Mishima awkwardly bit his lip, clearly unused to such treatment by Akira. “Why don’t you just change your diet? Go on runs?”

 

Mishima pouted, his chubby cheeks becoming more prominent. “Akira…! You’ve been-” He was cut off by Akira. “No, while I gave you food, you’re the little piggy who’s been eating himself to this state.” He explained, a soft, innocent look in his eyes. “And isn’t all of that food so good?” He waited until Mishima nodded. “Right. I mean, look at you. So fat, all you do is sit around and let those calories spread.”

 

Mishima could feel shame hit him. “But… You’ve only been giving me bad stuff…!” He retorted, to which Akira gave his gut a stronger shake. “Moderation, Yuuki.” He murmured, clearly setting all of the blame on Mishima. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t innocent either.

 

Akira’s touches became more delicate as he ushered Mishima back to his chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. “Come on, you know you can’t change your eating… That’s okay. I like you like this…” He reassured him, rubbing his belly. It was like dough in his hands, soft and squishy.

 

Mishima let out a small whimper, enjoying the softer, gentler touches. “Thank you, Akira…” He murmured, wrapping his thick arms around him. “You’re the best.”

 

And with that, Mishima only became softer, gaining more weight as Akira had finally accepted him, even if he was the one who influenced him. He just felt love and care, and that was all he ever wanted.