This pic always reminds me of the two dueling gainers in the story.
Read the whole thing after the jump
My Cousin Kurt
As far back as I could remember, I had always adored and idolized my older cousin Kurt. When I hit puberty and realized I liked guys over girls, he was a sophomore in high school and the epitome of my every fantasy. He was six feet tall, with sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. He played varsity baseball, ran cross-country, and captained the school’s swim team. With all this activity, it’s no surprise that he developed a very athletic body. His broad chest tapered into a trim, narrow waist, and his arms and legs were smoothly muscled. I kept a photo of him in my nightstand, and it saw a lot of action—almost on a daily basis. It was taken poolside, the summer before his senior year in high school. The tight black Speedos he wore in the photo highlighted both his cute buns and the bulge in his crotch. Looking at his body always got me hot, and for me it was the standard by which all other guys were judged.
When I was a senior in high school, Kurt left the Midwest to enroll in a college on the East Coast. For my entire life, I’d seen him at least once a week, and then suddenly he was gone. It was hard to have him away, and I thought about him constantly. He didn’t come home that Thanksgiving—I can’t remember why—so I didn’t get to see him until Christmas. My folks and I always spent the entire holiday—right through New Years—at their house, and I swear that drive on Christmas Eve was the longest hour in my life. After four months, my excitement at seeing him again was almost unbearable. But I was not prepared for the change in him.
When we arrived at their house, Kurt came up and greeted everyone with the same warm hug and boyish grin, but I could tell that something was different about him. I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed, but my father noticed it right off. After receiving his hug, he held Kurt out in front of him and announced, “Whoa, looks like someone has had a run-in with the old Freshman 15!” I looked again and saw that Kurt did seem a bit thicker in the midsection and his face had filled out a little.
“Yeah, I have put on a few,” Kurt admitted sheepishly, “But only 13 pounds.”
“Only 13 pounds,” my father echoed with a laugh. “Doesn’t the school have a fitness center or something? You’ll need to keep in shape for when it comes time to try out for baseballl.” My big-mouth father ignored my mom’s signal to let it drop and continued, “Then there’s your swimming and cross-country--you were so active in high school.”
Kurt shrugged, “I just didn’t want to get into any sports—at least not right away. Maybe I’ll look into baseball or something next year.”
“Okay,” my father said. “But be careful with that thing,” he warned, giving Kurt’s stomach a friendly pat with the back of his hand, “Or you might come home with more than just a diploma after graduation.”
The conversation turned to other things, but I wasn’t following them. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get my mind or my eyes off Kurt. As the two families moved about in the ritual of preparing for the annual feast, I watched him closely, looking for any and all signs of his added poundage. Kurt had always favored close-fitting clothes to show off his well-formed physique—something that I’d always liked about him—and he was wearing his usual tight jeans, looking even tighter in the rear and thighs. But his usual body-hugging shirt had been replaced by a baggy college sweatshirt, most likely in an attempt to hide his new plumpness. Although it disguised his exact contours, you could still tell that there was definitely more of him there.
During dinner, I was absorbed in watching Kurt eat. He loaded his plate and dug into it with zeal. A couple of generous slices of my aunt’s famous honey-glazed ham, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, scalloped corn, buttered rolls, candied yams…all of it shoved hungrily into an eager mouth. In a very short time, his plate was re-loaded and the shoveling continued. I think another comment popped up about the source of Kurt’s new girth, but I can’t be certain it wasn’t just my own thoughts. I found myself trying to remember if he had eaten so much at previous holidays, but I had never paid attention to it before. And when he finally pushed his chair back with a groan, my eyes zeroed in on his midriff. Even with the loose sweatshirt, you could plainly see a plump, rounded tummy, swollen with his overindulgence.
Suddenly I was feeling very warm and needed some air. As my mother and aunt started to clear things away, I offered to take out the garbage. I took it into the garage, dumped it in the can, and then stepped out onto the back deck. It was chilly, and starting to snow, but I just leaned against the railing and stared vacantly at the woods backing the property, trying to clear my mind.
“Here you are. I thought you got lost.” Kurt’s sudden appearance startled me. Even if I did have the hots for him, I was usually so calm around him. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so different and nervous.
“Just looking at the snow,” I said lamely.
“Well c’mon; they’re dishing out the pies!”
I followed him inside and watched him wolf down a huge piece of apple pie, drizzled with caramel and topped with a big scoop of ice cream. I was still stuffed from dinner and couldn’t believe he was able to put it all away so easily.
After dessert, the family moved into the living room to sit around the tree and visit. My father and uncle talked football, while the women swapped amusing stories about the men and their less-than-successful attempts at various household tasks. Kurt lounged on the sofa with one hand resting on his swollen stomach. I tried to keep up my end of the conversation, asking him about college life, but all the while I caught myself sneaking glances at his waistline. I couldn’t say why at the time, but there was something utterly fascinating to me about it. Kurt didn’t seem to notice my lack of focus, as he was somewhat distracted himself with thoughts of all the leftovers in the kitchen. In the course of the evening, he raided the fridge twice and had another piece of pie. That sweatshirt wasn’t hiding anything by the end of the night.
When it was time to go to bed, Kurt got up from the sofa with a grunt and stretched his back, his arms reaching for the ceiling. It was over in seconds, but the sight of that shirt sliding up to expose a good six inches of rounded, over-stuffed flesh with the whorl of dark blond hair around the navel was imprinted on my mind forever. And then it was over, but not before my father had seen it. With another laugh, he patted Kurt’s stomach and said, “Remember what I told you about this thing, bud, because it can seem like it’s got a mind of its own sometimes.”
I followed Kurt down the hall to the room we’d share, where he promptly sank into the ratty, over-stuffed chair that he and his mother always fought over. “Oof, am I stuffed! Guess I know where this came from, eh?” he asked, giving his swollen gut a solid thump.
I gave an embarrassed grin. “Sorry about all that stuff my old man said to you. He can be a real jerk sometimes.”
“Hey, forget about it. You get used to it after a while,” he chuckled. “When I noticed the first couple of pounds, I was kinda concerned and tried to be good about eatin’ right and all. But I’ve never had to think about my weight before, so I couldn’t get into the habit of watchin’ what I ate—and when I’m hangin’ with the other guys, I just get caught up in all the keg parties and late-night pizza runs…” he gave his stuffed little belly another thump, “…and the weight just kinda sneaks up on ya. Hey, wanna hear a secret?” After I nodded, he went on in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Well, I don’t have a scale in the dorm, so I didn’t know just how big I was getting. I got home last night and it was the first chance I’ve had to weigh in. I…I sorta lied to your dad—my folks too—about how much I’ve gained.”
My pulse quickened. “You mean you gained more than 13 pounds?” I asked.
“Yup. I started college at 174 pounds and the scale last night read 195.”
“That’s over twenty pounds!”
“I can’t believe I’m so close to the big 2-0-0. But after today, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the scale a notch or two past that.”
I almost didn’t hear the last bit. As I was listening to him talk about his growing gut, I found my blood pounding in my ears—as well as locations further south. I felt like I should say something in response, but I was feeling really confused by my body’s reactions and didn’t know what to say—and was afraid of blurting out something I’d regret. I was rescued just in time when his mother put her head in the door and said, “Lights out you two, it’s time to go to bed.”
After she left, Kurt laughed, “She still thinks I’m ten.” Then he got up and went into the bathroom. Before he returned, I quickly undressed and got into the spare bed, turning to face the wall. I heard him come back into the room, and then the light went out. “Good-night,” his voice came out of the dark. “Good-night,” I answered.
But I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake and found myself constantly thinking about Kurt and the glimpse of his soft, meaty belly—and being unbelievably aroused! But he was fat. Wasn’t that the opposite of how I was supposed to feel? Wasn’t I supposed to be turned on by Kurt’s old tight, trim body? But there was no mistaking the raging hard-on that throbbed in my shorts. I don’t know how long I puzzled over the strange feelings, but eventually I drifted to sleep.
I awoke Christmas morning, and heard Kurt just finishing his shower. Then I heard a “thunk” and realized that he was weighing himself. When he came into the room, I pretended to be asleep so I could watch him and get a good look at his new physique. His entire body was smooth and sleek with a layer of new fat, but certain parts definitely carried more than others. He had his back to me at first and I admired a set of buns so round and plump, I wanted to reach out and squeeze them. Then he slipped on his briefs and drew my attention to the fleshy handles widening his once-narrow waist. But when he turned around, I saw at last where the bulk of his new weight had collected. The flat, hard stomach I had ogled from previous summers by the pool, had inflated into a soft spare-tire that was just starting to hang over the waistband of his jockeys. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the closet door, and I watched him pose—sucking his gut in and letting it hang out again. Then he dropped onto his bed and laid there for a moment, lost in thought, his hand absently rubbing his belly.
“Is something wrong?” I heard myself asking aloud.
Startled with the realization that I was awake, he looked at me and chuckled. “No, not really. Just got off the scale and I weigh 197 pounds—I gained two more pounds yesterday.” He squeezed a roll of belly flesh in each hand and chuckled, “I have such mixed feelings about this thing. Part of me is totally freaked about being so out of shape, but another part is really curious about it. Is it really so awful? I just can’t seem to decide whether or not I like it. I wish I could be more like Greg.” Kurt looked over at me and explained, “Greg’s my roommate and man, has he packed on the weight! He was around 160 pounds when school started, and just before break he announced that he was at 211 pounds—he’s blown up 51 pounds in just the first semester, like he’s goin’ for some kind of record. Man, you should see that bloated gut of his, all soft and jiggly…”
All the talk about weight gain was getting me hot. I decided to plunge in and ask a dangerous question: “So, if you decided that you did like it, how big do you think you’d get?”
Kurt paused a bit and laughed, “Y’know, I haven’t given it much thought—just been ridin’ the wave, takin’ the weight as it came. When I first noticed I was puttin’ on weight, I thought just like your dad—whoa, gotta do something about this gut! Then it got a little bigger, and I got used to it, and now I feel…I don’t know…like I enjoy it. All the guys in the dorm are puttin’ on a few, and I like the friendly teasing and belly-poking that’s going around. I know it sounds crazy, but I kinda get off on it when my clothes get tight and I can’t button my jeans…and I like the feeling of the extra bulk on my body when I move around. I’d really like to see how far I could go with it—adding even more bulk…” Kurt paused for a moment, and then turned to me with a gleam in his eye. “Heck, I’m going for it. I’m gonna eat like a pig this week, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna strut into that dorm and show off my big ol’ gut.”
And he was true to his word. In spite of a barrage a teasing from my dad, Kurt took to eating like there was no tomorrow. Three helpings at each meal…snacking whenever he had the slightest bit of room in his stomach…chugging a beer or two whenever he could sneak one. My aunt was a big holiday baker: pies and cakes and dozens of cookies—and at least two-thirds of it all went into Kurt’s growing gut. Sleeping in the same room, I got to see a lot of him in various stages of undress, and as the days passed, I watched that soft, doughy gut expand and grow.
On New Year’s Day, Kurt pulled me into the bathroom. “I haven’t weighed myself since Christmas morning—though I really wanted to—and I want you to witness this.” With that he stripped down to his jockeys and stepped onto the scale. The dial spun around and he closed his eyes. “I can’t look,” he said. “You tell me what it says.”
I didn’t need the scale to see that his swollen gut had gotten bigger, but I looked down. “207 pounds,” I announced. “A total of 12 pounds gained.” Kurt opened his eyes and looked at the dial, to confirm my reading. He was disappointed at first, but I convinced him that it was really good for just over a week.
My parents and I left the next day, and Kurt went back to school. His growing belly had become very noticeable and now even his own father was ribbing him about how fat he was getting—and instead of chastising him, I knew it only encouraged him. Every night, I thought about Kurt and his growing belly, wondering how much bigger he was getting surrounded by all his new friends who were cheering him on. I had long since stopped trying to analyze why the softer, fatter male physique was suddenly more attractive to me, I just “rode the wave” as Kurt put it. I found myself prowling the mall, ogling every out-of-shape guy I spotted. But all the while I looked forward to spring break, to see the hunky ex-jock that had always been my number one. And to see what three months had added to his hot bod.
A couple of weeks into January, I saw a packet of newly developed pictures on the kitchen counter and absently picked them up and thumbed through them. But my pulse quickened when I realized that they were from Christmas. I didn’t even remember my mother taking any, but leave it to her to drag out the camera. There were a lot of nice shots of the “new” Kurt. But the best one was a shot of him in the morning before he’d dressed, looking quite plump in an old T-shirt that was stretched out over his new, round tummy. A sudden erection filled my crotch with a hot, throbbing need and I went straight to my room with the pictures to relieve it.
After I was finished, I scanned copies of all the good pics, which I printed out and put with the others I had of Kurt from before the weight gain. Seeing the “before” and “after” together was even more arousing than seeing Kurt in the flesh (pardon the pun), and I jacked off with them almost every night.
But when the time for spring break finally came around, I learned that Kurt had gone to Florida with some college buddies. It wasn’t until the school year was over, and Kurt was home for the summer, that my chance finally came to see how he had fared in his endeavor. And the long wait was well rewarded…
It was the first weekend in May--Kurt’s first weekend home--and it was unseasonably warm, so my family was going over to their place for a day around the pool. From the moment this get-together was planned, I was drooling at the thought of seeing Kurt in nothing but a bathing suit with his newly fattened figure on full display. I knew that he had gone back to school with the conscious intention of trying to pack on more weight, and I was expecting to see a heftier Kurt. But even I was not prepared to see just how BIG he had gotten. When we arrived, I was astounded—and unbelievably aroused—to see Kurt in baggy shorts and a big, loose T-shirt, looking like a whole different person.
At Christmas his body had been merely sleek with new flesh. Now his arms and legs had grown chubby, and the weight had really filled out his face, giving him round cheeks and a double chin. But the majority of his added poundage had gone straight to his center of gravity. The small, swollen gut he’d grown over the holidays had ballooned into a huge, round belly. He had to be pushing at least 260-270 pounds!
“Good God,” my mother said quietly.
“What the hell happened to you?” my father exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful and keep an eye on this thing? Just look at this monster,” he said, grabbing Kurt’s soft belly with both hands, “How could you let it get so out of control?” My father turned to his brother to ask the obvious, “Have you seen this?”
My uncle nodded and answered, “Oh yes, we’ve seen it. Of course, we’re concerned about all the weight he’s gained, and disappointed with him for his utter lack of regard for what he’s done to his body. We’ve already had a little talk with him about it, and seen the doctor. He’s starting a strict diet and exercise program, and this summer he’s going to be shedding a few pounds, right son?”
Kurt flushed and responded with a nod, “Yes, sir.”
“From where I’m standing,” my father commented, as we moved to the backyard, “It’ll need to be a lot more than a few.”
“That’s enough, dear,” my mother said quietly.
“But look how fat he is!” he insisted, “I can’t begin to think how the kid could have packed on so much weight since Christmas. I mean, we gotta be talking something like 60 pounds in only four months!” As my father went on, I felt more and more embarrassed for Kurt. But more importantly, I began to fear that all this talk would make Kurt self-conscious and rob me of the sight I all-so-eagerly wanted to see.
Fortunately, my fears were groundless. Kurt had, after all, gotten this big deliberately and had become comfortable enough with his increased size to need more than a little parental-type criticism to keep him from enjoying a swim. While our parents talked away on the patio (one guess as to the topic), Kurt led me over to the pool and casually slipped off his shirt and shorts. He stood for a moment on the edge of the water, wearing a pair of red Spandex swim trunks that should have been given up several pounds ago—although quite flattering in my book—and then dove in. Quickly I followed him into the water, to disguise the hard-on that threatened to rip open my own swimsuit. Kurt swam a lap or two before pulling himself onto the concrete edging to bask in the sun. He leaned back into a semi-reclining position, and his sleek, wet body made me think of a sleek, fat seal. I hungrily devoured the sight of that glorious once-jock whose six-pack abs were only a memory, sporting instead a huge, bloated belly that all but filled his lap. That belly now heaved up and down as Kurt breathed heavily from the exertion of his brief swim, and I stared—mesmerized—into the deep, sunken navel in the heart of that soft flesh. Before I knew it, the words were coming from my mouth, “Looks like you gave Greg a run for his money.”
Kurt blushed a bit, his hand going unconsciously to his belly. “Oh yeah,” he said with a gleam in his eye, remembering the events of the past five months. At first it seemed that the subject was going to end there, that he wasn’t going to say any more about it, but after a moment he went on and filled me in on the whole saga.
“When I went back to school after New Year’s, weighing in at 207, the other guys were really surprised—even Greg who was only up to 214. I asked Greg point blank if he was gaining weight on purpose. He admitted that he was, and right then and there I challenged him to see which of us could gain the most weight freshman year.” Kurt paused, shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief at his own actions. “The other guys were lovin’ it. We wrote it all up official-like, setting some ground rules, setting the weigh-in dates, and deciding what the winner would get. Then the dorm split into two groups—half behind me and half supporting Greg—and all sorts of side bets were made all around. And then I started eating…
“At meal time in the dining hall, all the guys were encouraging me to go up for seconds and were getting me extra desserts—but it wasn’t easy. The only guy in our dorm who worked in the dining hall was on Greg’s side, so he was trying to sabotage my efforts to gain any way he could. So we turned to sources outside the dining hall. The guys starting taking me out for late-night pizza or burgers—I was usually the only one who ate—and bringing me food to my room. Oh yeah, Greg and I switched rooms—both sides agreed that the contestants shouldn’t be around each other during the specified period.
“By the first of February, I was up 16 pounds to 223. I was really starting to feel the added bulk and my belly was rounding out nicely—I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball! None of my clothes fit anymore. I was going broke buying new clothes and all my buddies were going broke buying me food. But I kept eating and eating…Another month, another 15 pounds, and on the first of March I hit 238 pounds.
“By this time, Greg and I had become sorta like celebrities on campus. Where ever I went, people were coming up to say hi—some of ‘em wanted to pat my belly for good luck—and I’m sure a lot of ‘em just wanted to gawk at the guy who was getting fat on purpose. I didn’t care why they wanted to come up to me, it all felt good to me and sorta validated what I was doing. It just made me want to get bigger!
“But as March and spring break approached, a part of me started to get nervous about what my folks would say when I went home and they saw what I was doing with my body. I mean by this time I was gettin’ pretty big and there was no way I could hide another thirty pounds under a baggy sweatshirt. Once or twice, I thought about quitting the contest and getting back in shape—my weight actually dropped ten pounds that week from anxiety and stress. But my buddies didn’t want me to give up. They had bets to win, but they also reminded me of how much I was really getting off on getting fat. To keep me in the race they came up with the plan of taking me to Florida for spring break. Not only would it put off seeing my parents until the contest was over, but it would also give me time for some intense “training.” I’d really have to pack it away to make up what I’d lost and still make some positive gains. Deep down, I knew I was really getting into my growing size and I didn’t want to lose it, so it didn’t take a lot of convincing. When we left for Florida, they weighed me in at 227 pounds.
“Oh man, I still can’t believe I ate so much. The whole week of break they never let me leave the room—I never saw the beach—I just lay in bed chugging kegs and stuffing my gut with burgers and pizza and all manner of junk food—the other guys took turns going out and bringing in an endless supply of food and beer. I would eat and eat until I thought I’d burst, and they’d let me nap for a couple of hours. Then they’d wake me up and start feeding me again. This went on around the clock, and they kept the drapes closed, so I quickly lost all track of time. I only knew that I was gaining weight—I swear my belly was getting bigger every day. The whole week was eat-sleep-eat-sleep-eat…Finally they told me it was time to go home. I got up from the bed and dressed—my new clothes hardly fit me anymore, and since I’d done almost no walking all week, my legs were wobbly under my weight. At the airport, we spotted one of those coin-op scales and we headed over. I was feeling really heavy by then, so I knew I’d gained a lot, and was very curious as I stepped on to see just how much it would say. The dial spun and landed on 248 pounds! I couldn’t believe it, but I had packed on a whopping 21 pounds that week, double the gain from my week-long orgy at Christmas. The whole flight back I felt very fat and very bloated, and I loved it.
“But when we got back, the guys reminded me that the contest wasn’t over. I still had almost two months to go. We didn’t know how big Greg was, we just knew that I had to get bigger. So I kept eating, kept chuggin’…and my weight kept climbing…After the massive gain in Florida, my gains over the next few weeks seemed unimpressive. I wanted to find a scale and weigh in, but the guys wouldn’t let me. They told me that my gains were slow, but steady, and I just needed to eat.
“By mid-April I was really getting’ huge. I was gaining so much so fast, my body was having a hard time keeping up. Little things like tying my shoes, getting up from a chair, climbing stairs—even jacking off—were getting harder to do. When I’d catch a glimpse of myself in a window or something I’d be surprised at how big I was. A year ago I would never have imagined that I’d be so BIG…”
Kurt stopped his story for a moment, stroking his soft, bloated belly, with a strange, unreadable look on his face. Then, with a small sigh, he continued…
“Finally, the official weigh-in day arrived. We were quite a sight, two armies led by a pair of guys with big, round bellies marching to the health center. Being the last day of classes, the place was almost deserted. We found a room with a scale—one of those ones where you slide the weights over until it balances. I hadn’t been allowed to weigh myself since Florida, and I really wanted to know, so I stepped up first. I got on and everyone heard the loud “clunk!” and cheered—even before finding out what I weighed. Well, I started the balance at 250, and nudged it further, and kept nudging it, and nudging it, and it just wasn’t balancing. It went all the way over another 27 pounds from my last weigh-in to land square on a whopping 275 pounds! I had gained a total of 101 pounds in my freshman year!
“Then it was Greg’s turn, and he lumbered over to the scale. He was wearing a very snug T-shirt that was riding up and exposing the lower curve of his belly. I held my breath as he got on and they adjusted the balance. It came to rest on 270 pounds. My half of the group starting cheering and congratulating me, but the other half loudly protested that Greg had, in fact, actually won. The actual contest was to see who could gain the most weight, relative to their starting weight. And while I stood the heavier of the two, Greg had started out at 160 pounds, making his total gain 110 pounds to my 101.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe that I really packed on 101 pounds of fat in less than a year—then all I have to do is just look down and see this ol’ boy sittin’ in my lap.” Again, he rubbed his big gut. He seemed on the verge of saying something else. But whatever it was went unspoken as we were called over for lunch, and halfway through the meal I realized that I hadn’t learned what Kurt had given up as the loser of the bet.
I found out later. It turned out that Kurt had agreed that if he lost, he had to lose most of the weight he had gained and get down to 200—so that his huge belly wouldn’t compete with Greg’s belly and his victory. That wouldn’t be enough for his father, however, who insisted, with my father’s support, that Kurt lose every single pound he had put on. My uncle told Kurt he wouldn’t be able to go back to college in the fall if he didn’t drop ALL the added weight.
Kurt’s desire to please his dad became painfully obvious as the rest of the summer went by and I watched him diligently work off every one of those 101 pounds that he had worked so hard to gain. Too quickly, that fat, sexy body shrank away, and on the last weekend in August, before returning to college, in a pair of tight, black Speedos, he proudly showed off the return of his washboard abs at the pool. The family applauded—even I had to admit that losing 101 pounds in three months was as amazing a feat as gaining them—but silently I grieved. Once upon a time, I had thought his athletic body very arousing. But after seeing Kurt soft, voluptuous, and big-bellied, his old look was boring and unappealing. My only consolation was the set of pictures I kept tucked in my journal, several glorious shots from that May afternoon—courtesy of mom and her camera—added to the others.
Although the tight, washboard abs didn’t last a month back at school, Kurt kept his word and kept his weight under 200 pounds through the rest of his college years. Greg retained his title as the fattest guy on campus, continuing to gain weight until he tipped the scales at a hefty 360 pounds on graduation day. What happened to them after that is the stuff of other tales…
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