Make a Wish
Coming in at five foot five and 122 pounds of pure awesomeness, Carter was the kind of grey-haired silver fox of a raccoon that was the kind of person who could change the world.
Probably.
Currently, he was removing paper cups from a giant plastic bag and stacking them upside down on a counter.
To be honest, Carter had never lived the most exciting of lives. Sure, he’d had some wild nights back in his college days getting drunk in the woods and getting jacked up on whatever drug was going, but that was years ago now. Too many years.
Shit, that was like twelve years ago.
He didn’t even stay in contact with any of those people. Sure they’re still Facebook friends, but one post a year on your birthday doesn’t really meet the spirit of “contact,” and besides, no one under 35 gave a fuck about Facebook anymore. There were dozens of less privacy-invading, democracy-undermining services to avoid talking to your family members on, apparently.
One of those was apparently named Snapchat, judging by the small print of the several thousand disposable cups they’d just gotten delivered this morning. Probably the end result of an executive butterfly flapping the wings of corporate synergy in a meeting eight months ago and a thousand miles away. The kind of thing he’d never be privy to as a lowly barista in the faceless coffee corporation.
Carter’s job involved a multitude of tasks. Making drinks was the obvious bit, but his job also involved punching orders into the computer system, restocking the little sandwiches and wraps in the fridge, clearing tables, and right now, stacking up paper cups with the Snapchat logo on them, a task he was performing alone at the end of another crowded, hot day of doing all of the above.
There was little about the job he didn’t resent at least a little. Yeah, he was good at it, but there was no passion to be gained from making five hundred copies of the same ten drinks every day. At the very least he got free coffee out of it. This was good, as a regular infusion of caffeine was about the only thing stopping him from daydreaming about his other passions…
Carter, you see, had kind of a thing for, er… wider people. This wasn’t a new thing, it had always been there, niggling at the back of his mind, only to come to the fore during his teens at the most embarrassingly inconvenient of times.
In more recent years, as the optimism of youth wore thin and the malcontent of age started to blister, his mind had begun to turn to himself being the wider one.
After all, his online haunts were filled with fatties who had seen fit to leave their jobs behind in the pursuit of gaining weight. Many of them made good money from it; some of them were patronaged by Carter himself. He wouldn’t be stuck here doing menial work at eight in the evening if he was a big, sexy blubberball on the internet, that’s for sure.
Ironically it was this knowledge that had put him off doing so himself. For every self-sufficiently popular gainer on the web there were dozens who weren’t. He couldn’t justify risking a stable income for some wacky fantasy that could take years to become profitable, if it ever did. It just didn’t make sense.
Dang it, he was standing here like an idiot daydreaming about being a fatass again.
Simultaneously flustered and discontent, he dumped out the rest of the Snapchat cups and grabbed one from the top of the pile, filled it with hot water and some of the leftovers of the day’s grind, and secured a plastic lid over the top. It made for a gritty, bitter drink, but it sufficed for a quick pick-me-up when walking home. He let the it rest for a bit (an essential step in minimising grittiness) as he grabbed his coat and keys ready to lock up.
It was only when he came to pick it up again that he noticed how… fuzzy the Snapchat logo was on this one. Somehow he hadn’t noticed before, but the cup was weirdly dusty, like a fine powder had been blown across the surface. It had come from the bottom of the bag, so maybe something had collected in there in transit? Meh, so long as a customer didn’t get it there was no fur off his back. Still, he brushed some of the dust off, Snapchat’s little ghost of a logo coming into sharp focus.
“S’up?”
Carter dropped the and screamed like his soul was trying to tear itself from his body.
From out of the Snapchat logo had emerged a face, and then a head, shoulders and the entire upper body of what appeared to be a canine person with extremely long fur that floated weightlessly around them. Despite expectations, no legs or tail manifested themselves, the being remaining stubbornly attached to the cup from the waist downwards.
“Whoa whoa whoa! Calm the eff down!” They said. They mimicked a zipping motion with their hand, Carter’s mouth forced itself shut. “You summon me and then scream like that? Somebody’s gotta work on their hospitality,”
Carter grabbed onto the counter to steady himself, hyperventilating as heavily as his nostrils could handle. The figure zipped their fingers again, and Carter found he could breathe through his mouth once more.
“Thanks for flooding my house with coffee, by the way. Insurers are gonna love hearing that one,” they quipped.
“Who are you?!” Carter gasped between breaths, “What are you?!”
“I’m a djinn, dumbass. You never seen Aladdin before? And, well, I was Sumay, this one fella called me Sue, and this other one kept calling me Jim even though that is not my name and really, most of my masters just kept calling me ‘genie’ which is just kinda rude, to be honest,” There was a moment of quiet. “So… any wishes?”
“You grant wishes?” Carter said.
“Wow, you really haven’t seen Aladdin, have you?”
“I have not,” Carter admitted.
Sumay groaned. “Okay, so obviously your first wish should be to see Aladdin, Robin Williams is great in it, really probably the best publicity we ever got, but that’s besides the point.
“You get three wishes total, you can’t wish for love, you can’t wish for someone to die, and you can’t wish for someone to be brought back from the dead. Easy enough, right?”
“I wish I could gain weight. At will, I mean!” Carter said immediately.
Sumay paused for a moment before shrugging. “A’ight, if you’re so sure about that,”
The djinn wiggled his fingers. Carter felt a warmth tingle through his body that dissipated just as quickly as it had arrived.
“Give it a try,” Sumay prompted.
Carter closed his eyes softly and thought about being bigger. Not a lot bigger, another twenty, thirty pounds maybe? Just enough to give his flat stomach some curvature to it.
It didn’t quite strike how he expected it to. There was no groaning or movement to it. He thought it’d feel like the aftermath of eating a large meal, to hear the grumbling sounds of a stomach at work, but he felt and heard nothing. Instead, all he felt was the effect it was having; the tightening of his clothes around him, pudge pushing into his belt and work apron, the stabbing of keys against his gut.
“Ouch!” His eyes popped open, he stopped growing. The keys to the shop, placed in his once-loose apron pocket, were now jabbing him in the front—his still skinny, but now much more fleshed out, curvaceous front.
His face flushed red. This was extremely hot.
Sumay grinned, “Can’t say that’s a wish I’ve granted… well, ever. Being large and in charge was hot shit in the famine years, though. Looks pretty good on you,”
Carter blushed even harder. “Th-thank you…”
The obtrusively large, inoffensively contemporary wall clock chimed softly. It had struck nine o’clock.
Carter looked down to the puddle of spilled coffee that Sumay’s paper cup was still laying in. “You, er, can’t give me a freebie wish, right?” he asked.
“Nope!” Sumay smirked. “Enjoy cleaning up! And be more careful with my house this time, I only just moved into this thing. If you need me, master, I’ll be filling out that insurance paperwork. Tata!” Sumay retreated into the cup.
Carter sighed and went to grab a mop.
Carter walked home as fast as he could, paper cup in hand. He felt like he had a brick in his stomach, still unused to the extra weight he was carting around now. He’d had to undo a couple of buttons on his shirt and jeans to stop them pressing uncomfortably into his new pudge. At least his coat was puffy enough to keep the exposed flesh covered.
Honestly, the feeling was getting him all flustered again.
Upon arriving back at his apartment, he immediately freed himself of everything but his underwear. He stood in front of the mirror, admiring his altered physique. Five foot five and 150-some pounds of pure—and increasingly sexy—awesomeness.
He let out a lewd little chirr as he watched his fuzzy, grey stomach swell outwards a little further. Make that 155 pounds.
God, this was so hot.
Fantasies of being stuffed to his limits lingered in his head as he began preparing dinner. He couldn’t afford a feast—hell, even a large delivery order would need to be budgeted for. He was a barista pulling barely more than minimum wage, after all, he couldn’t just dump his nearly non-existent savings into glutting himself.
He didn’t even need to eat to gain weight, but to him eating was part of the appeal. Taking someone with a huge belly and already immense appetite, filling them to contentedness, and then pushing them just a little bit more until they couldn’t handle a morsel more, only for it to evolve into an even larger belly and an even needier appetite—it was wonderful. A perfect circle.
But desire is a strong motivator. He couldn’t gorge himself, but he saw fit to add some extra butter in the butter chicken and add an extra cup of basmati to the cooker. He could still achieve the feeling of contentedness on a budget, at the very least.
Carter leaned back in his chair, the plate before him cleaned but for a couple of errant grains of rice. With a sly grin on his face, he scooped them up too and deposited them into his mouth.
It was interesting how much having a few extra pounds changed things. Before today, a large meal would have been pretty easy to spot on his skinny frame, his stomach would look a little more rounded and not have much give to it.
Now, despite being similarly full, his middle remained quite soft and wobbly. It was still a bit more solid, but the overall sensation was very different. For the first time since he was a kid, Carter was actually, genuinely, chubby.
The realisation made him flush red. Flustered and finally afforded privacy, he grabbed his phone and dove into bed, one hand in his undies and the other scrolling through OnlyFurs; scanning across the endless feed of pics and videos of furs jiggling for show, being fed or stuffing their own faces, or jacking off at the sheer lustful thought of how much of a fatass they were and how much of a whale they intended to become, just as Carter was doing now.
It didn’t take very long. The sudden realisation that he could be larger than any of these gainers could ever dream of with only a thought did more to reach climax than his paw ever could.
He closed his eyes and just laid still for a moment in the post-workout haze. Daydreams rushed through his mind. He could be larger than them! Maybe then he would be the one with the hundreds of paying followers, getting stuffed to his limits with every meal while his team of feeders rubbed and knead his prodigious, bottomless belly. No crappy job, no responsibilities, no stupid inhibitions, just eating and gaining and being too fucking turned on by it all to ever want to stop.
And that would just be the start! Five hundred, six hundred, eight hundred pounds… complete immobility… all of the years of unrequited fantasy were suddenly, completely within his reach, and entirely reversible should he want it or need it to be. A second wind was coming on. He grasped for his cock once again, only to be greeted by a wall of flesh.
Carter opened his eyes. Before him were moobs. Huge, saggy, grey-furred moobs. His moobs. Beyond them was an even larger gut that had spread outwards from the source, pushing the single-sized duvet high enough off the bed that there was a breeze tickling his sides. Hidden behind it all, his underwear torn wide open, was his erect penis, holding its own against the wall of belly bulging against it.
Oh fuck! What was he, 500 pounds? 600? He might be even more… He moaned, breathless, simultaneously overwhelmed by and yet so turned on by this revelation. Reaching for his penis was much more difficult now, so he shifted his attention to his torso instead. He groped his moobs, squeezing and kneading them for a little while before moving further down to attend to his gut.
It was soft and supple to the touch and jiggled freely, unencumbered by clothing or by being filled out by a taut, stuffed-to-the-gills stomach.
As he groped and wobbled his belly, he felt the base of it rub and brush against his erection. Desire clouded his thoughts almost immediately.
He pushed down on his gut, making it press harder against his stiff cock, sloshing it back and forth with increasing vigour, huffing and grunting loudly until finally the furry, grey rolls of his lower stomach were painted white with cum.
He moaned and slumped back against his pillow, sweating and exhausted from the exertion. It was the best sex he’d had in years, and it’d been with his own fat fucking belly.
Carter laid there for a while, watching his body rise and fall with his breathing as it slowed back to normal.
This was too much. But it wasn’t enough. He ruminated on this conflict of interest for a moment before deciding that, fuck it, he was gonna overdo it.
“Sumay!” He shouted across the apartment. “I wish I had endless food!”
He paused for a moment, realising all the ways that could manifest itself. His room could be buried under a dozen lifetimes worth of pizza in an instant, and as much as he could fantasise about doing so, he probably wouldn’t be able to eat that all in one sitting.
”Endless as in, like, that I can conjure it to appear in my hand whenever I want it! Not all at once or anything!” He tacked on.
There were some muffled sounds from the kitchen as Sumay presumably exited their coffee cup and did their wish granting thing.
“You got it, king! One left to go!” Their voice shouted back.
“Thanks!” Carter responded.
Experimentally, he put his paws together and thought of cake.
Not the factory mass-produced kind of cake they had at work, the kind that had been left drying out in a glass cabinet for the entire day, no. He thought of a luscious chocolate layer cake, six inches worth of sponge and cream, all surrounded in a thick covering of chocolate icing. The kind that was soft and moist and decadent and moorish.
And in his hands it appeared.
Pausing to marvel at its appearance for a moment, he messily shoved it into his mouth. Now was his time for overdoing it, he was gonna stuff himself silly until he didn’t want to move—nay, couldn’tmove—for how bloated he had become.
Icing was smothered across his face. Cake crumbs bounced down his chins. He didn’t care. Manners didn’t matter. Fuck manners.
Fuck this creaking, uncomfortable bed. Fuck his neighbours noise complaints. Fuck his whole apartment, actually, and fuck his job too. None of them mattered right now compared to stuffing his fat face with every cuisine he could recall.
With moments his hand was pushing slab of butter-fried salmon past his lips, followed swiftly by a large handful of chow mein, followed by a raspberry dorayaki, followed by waffles dripping with syrup.
There was no rhyme or reason to his glutting, his next mouthful just being the first thing he’d managed to think of. Tonight, he wouldn’t let that hold him back.
Cheese burgers, loaded fries, fried chicken, apple pie.
He was already pretty full after dinner, now each mouthful swallowed was a desperate struggle between sheer yearning and his biological limitations. He wanted to keep going.
Chicken katsu… meat feast pizza… carnitas burrito…
He wanted to be huge. He needed to be huge.
Carter slumped back, dropping the burrito onto his naked chest. True to his desire, it was one of the thickest he could imagine, but that last bite had proved his last.
He laid still, huffing breathlessly. He couldn’t handle any more. Not yet anyway…
Still, there were other ways he could seize this moment. He grasped for his phone, both delighted and frustrated that facial recognition didn’t recognise his new look. Typing his passcode took a few moments too, unused as he was to using his freshly fattened fingers.
He switched to the selfie cam to get a better look at himself. He was, as expected, a lot fatter. His gaunt features had been filled out, his narrow head curved outwards as it came to his cheeks, which had begun to merge seamlessly with his thick jowels and collection of chins.
He took a few snaps to get a better look. Yeah, he was fat as hell alright. There was also quite a lot of food debris getting buried in the folds around his face. He figured he should probably get out of bed and get cleaned up.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on being thinner. Not as thin as he was this morning, but… thinner. Maybe 200 pounds or so?
He laid there for a while, thinking hard. He sure didn’t feel any different. He opened an eye.
He was still massive.
Carter’s eyes narrowed. He concentrated again on getting thinner, smaller, less of a fat fuck. He didn’t know whether listing synonyms helped at all, but it was worth a try.
His towering dome of procyonid blubber still loomed over him, swaying softly with the lightest of movements.
“Sumay!” Carter shouted aloud. “There’s something wrong with your spell!” There was no response.
“_Sumay!_” He called again, louder. Nothing.
Fuck. Was Sumay asleep? Did djinn even need sleep?
He really should get up.
He shuffled around a little, pushing the barely eaten burrito off his chest and onto the floor, a trail of salsa and meat juices stained across his fur.
With a slow huff he tried to roll himself onto his side, undeveloped muscles struggling to shift so much new mass.
Then it all shifted at once. He yelped loudly as his gut began to spill over the side of the bed, completely throwing his manoeuvre off balance. He grabbed at the mattress for support, but it just came with him, landing on his back as he bellyflopped onto the floor.
“Guhhh…” He just laid there for a few moments, moaning to himself, before reaching a paw upwards and grabbing the bed frame, trying to leverage himself upwards that way instead.
Gods, he was so fucking heavy. His arms quivered as they strained to lift so much mass. He rarely lifted anything larger than a sack of coffee beans, and he was so much heavier than those by now.
Slowly he pushed himself to his feet. His gut slung well below his waistline, threatening to pull him forwards again unless he leaned backwards as counterbalance.
Such a shame that biology hadn’t granted him a suitably fat ass.
“Sumay!” Carter shouted again, slowly shuffling around to face towards the kitchen. No response.
Okay, baby steps. He inched forward bit by bit. He couldn’t see his feet, but they felt like they were leaving the floor, and the wobbles reverberating through his body affirmed some kind of movement was taking place. Carefully, he dragged his unsteady body towards the doorway.
He wasn’t sure how the gainers on OnlyFurs managed to carry this much weight with them all the time, he felt so… slow. So cumbersome. Even this short waddle felt laborious.
He caught a look at himself as he shuffled past the mirror.
His body had been transformed in the last couple of hours, turning him into someone barely recognisable from before. From his jowls to his cankles, each part of him had become swaddled with thick, unyielding fat. Stretch marks were just about visible beneath his fur, his stomach bloated from how much he had glutted himself just before.
The sight tickled him somewhat. But what tickled him more was what he couldn’t see—his belly dominated his reflection, his crotch and upper thighs were completely hidden by it as it sagged. He couldn’t even see the sides of it, now far too wide to fit into the mirror’s narrow frame.
He tried to reach down to the bottom of his gut to lift it, but he struggled to find enough purchase. His fat was too pliable, his arms too weak, and gravity just insisted on pulling it all towards the floor.
A red blush smeared itself across his fat cheeks. To think that only a few hours ago he was a twig, and now he was bigger than some of the people he patronised online.
Five foot five and 600-some pounds of pure awesomeness.
He tore his eyes away from his reflection. This wasn’t the mission right now, he was supposed to be getting to Sumay, to fix the spell or whatever this was, to get skinnier again.
Carter lumbered forth.
The doorway through to the kitchen provided surprisingly little resistance. It seemed like a common trope for hyper-obese folks to get stuck in doorways all the time, and he was anticipating a struggle, but it barely required more than a little squeezing for him to get through. Building codes, it seemed, mandated doors that were actually pretty wide.
Mostly, he was just thankful to have the doorframe to lean against for a few moments.
“Sumay?” Carter asked across the room.
Sumay’s canine features poured out of the cup once more, effortlessly floating over to the doorway. “Whassup?”
Carter’s brow furrowed. “If you could hear me why didn’t you answer before!?”
Sumay shrugged. “I’m busy! You messed my house up, remember? That shit ain’t gonna clean itself up!”
Their eyes darted up and down Carter’s swollen body, spawning a wry smile. “And it’s not like you’re in any state to help out, big boy.”
“Your spell doesn’t work!” Carter said, his voice elevated. “I mean, I can get bigger, but when I try and get thinner again it doesn’t work!”
Sumay rolled their eyes. “I don’t do ‘spells’, master, I’m not some silly cartoon wizard boy. Wish magic’s the powerful stuff.”
“Whatever!” Carter growled. “Why can’t I get thinner again?”
“You didn’t wish for tha—“
“I did!”
“You didn’t,” Sumay said sternly. He pulled a scroll and a pair of small glasses from the air, holding them up to his face as he read: “‘I wish I could gain weight. At will, I mean.’”
Carter’s jaw fell, his eyes darting around as he mentally recalled the conversation. He had said that.
“But… but obviously I meant being able to lose weight at will too.”
“Not what you wished for.” The djinn shrugged again.
“Fine! I wish that—“
“Whoa there! Master, if I may interrupt. Please… think of Aladdin.”
“I’ve not seen Aladdin.”
Sumay sighed. “Once you complete your third wish, you will not be able to summon me again. I will be trapped in my vessel, waiting years—centuries even—with my only hope for respite being subservience to a new master.
“To wield ultimate power, yet unable to use it for oneself, is the eternal curse of the djinn.”
Carter tilted his head.
“Look… master, If you are a kind and willing man, please use your third wish to free me from this life. Every djinn you’d ever meet would ask this of you!”
“But… I can’t be stuck as a fat fuck like this forever!” Carter protested.
“Can’t you?” Sumay replied, coyly. “It seems to bring you no end of pleasure being such a fat ass.”
Carter flushed red.
“Is it that obvious?”
Sumay laughed loudly. “You remember what your first two wishes were, right?! You were practically begging to be a fat, gluttonous hog.”
Unprompted, the djinn grabbed large handfuls of Carter’s gut, fingers giving it a gentle knead as they let it sag through their hands.
“You know, millennia ago, being this large would’ve been a sign of great wealth and power. I can see why it appeals to you.”
Carter’s blush turned redder, a soft chitter betraying his true feelings. This turnabout had thrown his thoughts into disarray. “H-how am I supposed to live like this? To work? To go out? People will notice I’ve turned into a blimp overnight!”
“I’m sure you could find a way~” Sumay teased, their hands still softly manipulating the raccoon’s massive gut.
He was so big. He was so fucking big. Sumay’s hands must’ve been magic in themselves, their touch only making him to feel fatter than ever. And it was true, he did want this. He didn’t want to be a skinny little twig again, persistently emaciated by poverty. He wanted to have power, even if was just over his own body.
But to condemn another being to another lifetime of servitude for a little more of that power was undeniably wrong.
From behind him, Carter’s phone dinged.
“…Can I suggest a compromise?”
“Alright, go.” Sumay pressed the recording button and walked around to join Carter.
Carter was sitting on his small sofa, filling up a good two-thirds of it. Sumay squeezed themself into the remaining third. Carter smiled and waved to the lens, his bingo wings wobbling as he did so.
“Hey guys and gals, FatRacc34 here again for my two-thousand sub mukbang livestream! I couldn’t have gotten here without you all, so I figured it was time for a treat… for me, mostly, but for you too.
“As always, Sumay is here to help me out too. To feed me if I get too tired, to give me tummy rubs if I get too full. Not that that ever happens, am I right?”
Sumay laid an arm across Carter’s belly. The raccoon had put on a couple hundred more pounds since their agreement, none of them had been willed into existence, it was all earned.
Carter continued to mumble thanks for a few more moments before reaching off-camera and summoning a platter of fried prawns.
His ability to summon food had only become more useful as his weight had increased, allowing him to remain somewhat independent and fiscally secure, but it was probably best to not do it where others would see. Sumay grabbed some of them and helped push them into Carter’s face.
This might be the last time they did this.
Carter’s final wish had been for Sumay to help him create and grow an OnlyFurs account, and to aid his journey as a gainer, until Carter made enough money from it to survive and to replace Sumay.
In the intervening months they’d helped Carter quit his job, adapt to his new body, set up photoshoots for OnlyFurs, and purchase and operate equipment for livestreams. Sumay had spent much more time outside of his cup, interacting with Carter and the world that surrounded him.
All pretences of this being a purely professional relationship had died within days of them starting. Carter begged for help jacking off, too stuffed and lethargic from another big meal to even attempt it himself.
They were millennias old, they weren’t going to be prudish about it, but it opened the door to a much more physical relationship to develop between them.
Which is why today, right now, they could feel so comfortable up against Carter’s side, face pressed into a moob, casually stuffing potato skins into the raccoon-whale’s maw with one hand whilst kneading into his bloated belly with the other.
Early that morning, Sumay had been thrown out from their coffee cup; their magic evaporated into the aether; their body spontaneously grew real legs and feet. With the two-thousand subscriber mark reached, Sumay had become a free, mortal being.
It was an asymmetric relationship by its nature, but a comfortable one, and Sumay was free to stay for as long as they liked, and right now, it felt like it might be a while.
