Harry could use this thing to become whatever he wanted, he was buzzing with excitement over the thought as he read his stats.
Age: 21 years, 258 Days, 11 hours, 39 minutes, 57 seconds. It was weird to see it broken down so exactly.
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 181 Lbs
Bodyfat Percentage: 18.25%
The possibilities should be endless, but Harry's mind had gone blank the moment his eyes drifted down to his weight. His cock stirring as his imagination started to fire. He'd thought about it before. He'd thought about it a lot, actually, but was never able to bring himself to go for it.
Weight gain.
Harry spent plenty of time trawling the internet for pics, stories, roleplays, all with one central theme. Guys getting fattened up. He'd indulged once in a while, stuffing himself over the course of a day, saying he'd put on a few pounds and see how he liked it, but he never followed through. He wasn't a particularly lean or buff guy, but he had a pretty great body that other guys seemed to like. Fat was so...permanent. He'd have to change his whole life if he really wanted to do it... Now though, he had the chronivac.
Clicking around, he found the option he was looking for. A whole control panel for body mass changes. He quickly checkmarked the option for fat and started to click away. He could gain it all at once, or slow and continuously, or in chunks. He picked the option for chunks of weight gain, and set it to 10 minute gaps between his gains. He'd be able to explore his changes that way.
Finally... how much weight would he gain? Maybe just a little to start? 30 pounds? 40? But the thought didn't excite him... The men he read about, they got huge! Housebound mountains of lard that struggled to get out of bed in the morning. That was too much though, right? His mind thrilled as he considered 700 or more pounds...
No...no something in between for now. 500 pounds sounded too big... but somehow 400 too small. He knew what to do. Clicking on the 'Final Weight' box, he typed in 450. The program suggesting he gain it over 3 chunks. He clicked okay and nervously hovered over the start button. He was nearly vibrating as he slammed down the left click on his mouse.
The changes were near instant. The moment the button was greyed out, and the word "processing" appeared, Harry started to feel strange. A weird prickling sensation raced across his skin, and an obvious feeling of inflation radiated out from inside him. Moaning lightly, Harry got up from the desk as his belly surged out, bulging out over his waistband, his t-shirt starting to tighten around it. He let out a dumb laugh as he saw his shirt go taut over his stomach.
"No way!" He blurted out, hand going to his stomach and shaking it as it went from beginner belly to paunch. He was getting thicker all over, looking like he'd been overeating the last few months, and too busy to replace his more and more ill-fitting clothes. He tugged his shirt up and let his hand cup the bare skin of the stomach that was starting to get more than a little noticeable.
His body shifted. It's fit frame still obvious as his fat took on a pudgier, rounder look. He scrambled to unbutton his jeans as the button started to cut into his bulging lower stomach. The seat becoming painted on as his rear filled the denim. Even the fabric on his calves getting a little tighter. Then, almost as soon as it started, the process just...stopped. He looked down over himself, adjusting to the view of his now somewhat obscured feet. He smiled wide and darted for the bathroom to see himself in the mirror, feeling a guilty thrill over the slight quake in his ass and chest. When he saw himself, he stopped dead in his tracks, marveling at himself. He looked like some chubby couch jockey. He loved it. Hopping on his scale, the number flashed back at him. 231 pounds. 50 pounds up.
He stood dumbly checking himself out, unable to really believe this was real, losing track of time. Until the tingle came back. The bulge coming back with a vengeance as his body inflated again. It seemed faster this time. His belly lurched forward and seemed to change in consistency, starting to soften, to give into gravity. He let out another moan, not bothering to stifle it this time. He kept one eye on the mirror to watch what he was becoming as lovehandles swelled up on his sides. His hips widening. His shirt hiking up, his jeans opening as the zipper gave in to his expansion. The legs pulling taut around his fatter and fatter thighs and calves. He could feel his thighs pressing together bit by bit as he went from chubby guy to fat man. The graphic on his shirt distorting as his chest fattened below the straining cotton. Stitches were starting to pop, tight fabric was being pulled into folds and under rolls. His face was rounding out, and his limbs were now losing what little muscle definition he'd had.
Every snap and pop made his heart skip and his cock throb. He was just like the guys in the stories he read, fattening so fast he'd destroy his clothes. He looked down as he stepped back up onto the scale, steadying his stomach with a now chubbier hand. The numbers were whizzing past, 280, 285. 290. There was a loud rip as his left thigh shredded open his jeans, the right straining, not far behind. His shirt was inched up to his bellybutton. 300, 310, another loud rip as a huge hole tore in his shirt beneath his right arm, showing the heavy lovehandle bulging up beneath the fabric. 321 pounds... and again it stopped.
He stepped off the scale with a huge grin on his face as his stomach shook lightly. In the mirror, he was thick. Fat, yeah, but clearly beneath it all he was once not a totally lazy sort of guy. 140 pounds gained so far. He headed for the kitchen, deciding to get a beer for this big gut of his, so he could enjoy the feeling of his thighs rubbing and chest shaking as he went along. He got to the fridge and bent over to look inside, feeling how gravity pulled his belly and chest down. He popped a beer and sat at his kitchen table, playing with his flab, avoiding reaching into his overly tight denim to deal with his throbbing cock. He wanted to wait until after the last chunk of weight. The chair felt so small now, it creaked under him. His belly pressed against the edge of the table. He was so focused on what was coming next. 129 more pounds, all at once.
The 10 minutes felt like ages as he sat in anticipation. He nearly yelped when the tingle came back. Sitting at his kitchen table, he groaned deeply as his belly swelled out into his lap. His clothes giving in, the tears that'd started earlier were being ripped open fast. His chest sagged down, making a roll under his armpit. The gaping fabric opening wide enough to show one stretched out nipple. The right thigh of his jeans finally giving in. Plush, fat plumped legs finally meeting. The seat of the jeans giving out next. His too tight briefs were cutting into the soft flab that was forcing them to their limit. His face got rounder, his second chin bigger. His arms becoming doughy. He struggled to get out of the shirt, feeling his body jiggle and slosh as he awkwardly tugged it off with his pudgier fingers. The chair beneath him groaning louder. He thought it might be best to get up. Pushing himself up, he could feel his body jiggle as it settled. His fat chest resting on his fat stomach. He reached under his overhang to finish undoing his fly, and fought his way out of the now destroyed jeans. His body would sway and shake, throwing off his balance. The fat moving almost on it's own as he continued to swell bigger. He was getting sweaty, breathless. It made him throb harder. He tossed the jeans aside, but was too wiped to try with the briefs too. Grabbing a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer, he cut into the fabric on one side, making the elastic spring and shrink back. He cuts the other side and pulls the torn briefs from between his fat thighs. He looks down, unable to see his feet let alone his dick. He awkwardly waddles to one side, seeing his reflection in the toaster on the counter. His normally decent sized rod was mostly buried. A head sticking out between fat thighs and below a hanging gut. "Fuck." Is all he could mutter. He hefted his gut and let it drop, making his entire form quiver. He brought his chubby hands to his fat tits and felt their weight. He was a lardass. He wanted to complete the fantasy. He wanted to eat like the guys in his stories did. Opening the fridge back up, the now 450 pound Harry grabbed some cake he bought this week, he'd been considering stuffing himself again, so he'd stocked up. He grabbed a jug of whole milk, and a tub of ice cream from the freezer. Then, using every ounce of strength he had, he lowered himself to the floor in front of his open fridge, and began to stuff himself, free hand under his gut, fumbling with his buried member.
He was so distracted that he didn't hear his front door open, and the footsteps of Ethan, returning a stack of DVD's he'd borrowed last week. It wasn't until he heard a clear "Harry?" from the door behind him that he turned around to see his neighbor standing there.