The Overstuffed Undergraduate

This story is simply a masterpiece. Written by the very talented Kyaada, originally debuted on his awesome yahoo groupKyaaderotica, the story tells the tale of a rapidly blimping ex-jock college Freshman and his homosexually charged group of friends. My lame description is just not going to do it justice, but if you haven't read it, get reading. Full story after the jump.

The Overstuffed Undergraduate

by Kyaada



"So, enough about the car already-- tell me about your roommate, Brian!"



It was difficult to focus on anything but Alison's new silver BMW M3 convertible, but I could easily make an exception to talk about Tony. "Okay, so: Italian, 5'9" tall, nice beefy build that looks totally hot in a wifebeater, excellent package, tight butt like two good-sized melons rubbin' against each other in painted-on 36" Levis, square jaw, plenty of thick wavy black hair, brown eyes with a forest of eyelashes. He's some football playin' boy from back east-- he's got a photo of him wearing his letter jacket on his desk. Looks like he's filled out a bit since that picture; his face is a little fuller, and I think he's a might thicker in the middle. We've gone together to the dorm cafeteria a few times, and the boy does an assertive face push."



"Ah-- perfect! Healthy appetites make for healthy boys. Does he have a girlfriend?"



"I'm not sure if he does or not. He hasn't talked too much about girls yet, but we really haven't had that much time to talk. Either his mouth is full, he's kicked back watching TV, he's out visiting some friends drinkin' beer, or he's asleep."



"Well, he sounds pretty damn cute. Keep an eye on him for me, okay?"



"You know I will, Alison. You've got to meet him one of these days. We like pretty much the same thing, don't we?"



Alison giggled, "yeah, we do."



~.~



"Oh shit, dude-- Chicken Parmesan! That is like my favorite!" Tony nudged me as he ascertained the nature of the cafeteria's evening main menu. "Wow! And spaghetti, and garlic bread, and--" he paused to suck in the sauce-laden aroma deeply into his lungs, "smells so good."



I could tell he was actually drooling as he swallowed back suddenly, licking his lips with hunger-panned anticipation. Tony absentmindedly stroked his meaty midsection, smoothing down his taut yellow tank top; the endless supply of dorm food and nightly bottles of cold brew had paid off handsomely in the form of a visibly tight waistband on his old Dockers. There were apparent stress marks around his pants button, and the zipper didn't reach all the way to the top; rather, there was a slight "V" shaped gap where it didn't meet the top of the fly under the tortured pants button.



Tony begged the server for an extra helping of the sauce-and-cheese-smothered chicken right then and there, but was gently reminded he could come back as many times as he wished. By the time he finished loading up his tray with a heaped dinner plate, complementary salad plate, two dessert plates, and four of the little 8-oz glasses full of milk, the tray was so heavy that he struggled a bit with maneuvering it out to a close table. I had seen Tony eat several times before, and I had always been impressed; it was apparent that he relished a full stomach. Tony's meals always swelled his midsection to the point where he had to pay attention to the resultant increase in size and shape, pat it gently, and belch as a natural and expected consequence of indulgent eating.



Tony was somehow different tonight. He was more quiet than usual, concentrating on emptying his dinner plate so that he could return to the line for a second ample helping. Leaning back slightly after his dinner and salad plates shown a clean shade of white, Tony worked up a deep belch. "Oh, this is good, man-- man, is this good!" I listened to the excitement in his voice and there was nearly the sense that he had found buried treasure or something. I didn't think the food was all that great, but I figured that my opinion was of no consequence as long as Tony was completely enamored with the simple dorm food fare. Perhaps it was the simple attraction of being able to eat as much of it as he possibly could. "Okay, so I'm leaving my dessert here while I go get some more chicken parm--"



"Don't worry dude, I'll watch it," I said. "Ya want me to get you some more milk, Tony?" I looked at the four empty glasses.



"Sure. That would be cool."



Tony was up in a heartbeat with his plate heading back to the food line for more. I gathered up his milk glasses and went off to the milk machine. By the time I'd waited in the line behind a few dairy-deprived football players and carefully balanced the four glasses for the trip back to the table, Tony had already resumed his seat and his eating. This time, the piece of chicken and pile of spaghetti seemed even larger. Tony had piled pieces of garlic bread on a fresh salad plate and nibbled on that while he plowed his way through the mountain of Italian delicacies on his dinner plate. Tony's belches became wonderfully frequent and were the only accompaniment to the chewing and swallowing noises at our near-empty table. I knew that Tony wasn't much of a conversationalist with a plate of food in front of him and a fork in his hand. As Tony stuffed himself, his breathing became more and more labored. At a certain point, Tony put down his fork, reached up and clasped his hands behind his head, and luxuriated in a most erotic stretch. His belly was easily the size of a basketball, pooching out invitingly-- eliminating any loose material in his tank top. Tony released his hands and immediately began to thump his belly. "Ooof…damn! I'm runnin' out of room! My gut's gettin' full…"



For a moment, I thought the ever-dedicated and non-food-wasting Tony was going to give up finishing his dinner and desserts.



"…But I'm gonna stuff it in even if it means bustin' my gut…"



"Dude, just eat-- enjoy!" I advised with an encouraging smile on my face.



It took another fifteen minutes, but Tony claimed victory over a completely decimated cafeteria tray with a decidedly pronounced belly bulge. When he got up, his heavy middle threw his balance off. I immediately checked his zipper, and sure enough, it had taken the liberty of backing itself down the track about another inch and a half. His nicely swollen belly jutted over his excruciatingly tight Dockers waistband, and he stood there for a minute getting his balance. Tony let an impressively macho belch rumble its way up and out and then put a hand on the rounded front of his full belly. Bending over slightly, he picked up his dish-filled tray and rested the edge of it against his protruding stomach. His pants had tightened up enough during his dinner that it was even more interesting to watch him walk. Tony had a most pleasing swagger, and he seemed to get off on it as he proudly put his tray on the conveyor belt and turned to exit the cafeteria.



Outside, on our way back to the dorm, Tony broke wind most obnoxiously. He smiled at me and made sure I was watching, then began to rub his rotund belly in wide, slow circles. "Now *that* was a dinner!" Tony validated, continuing to deeply massage his taut stomach leaving not one round inch unexplored, "yeah, I suppose I overate-- one more bite and I would have popped like a tick!" Tony surprised me with an ear-splitting protracted belch from deep inside his bloated gut.



"Cool, dude. I could tell you were heavy into the chicken parm."



"Oh yeah, well, I am Italian, ya know-- I live for that stuff-- My veins run red with marinara sauce!"



I opened our dorm room door for him, and watched as he made his way over to where the big mirror hung on the closet door. He stood in front of it, gazing at his reflection, turning to the side, then turning back to the center, then turning to the other side. "Shit, dude…my belly is so big and swollen that it looks like I'm freaking' pregnant-- and my pants look like they're going to explode!"



"Yeah, Tony-- you might want to pop that pants button before it pops right off of ya…"



With that bit of advice, Tony released his tortured button and let out a deep sigh of relief as his zipper automatically slid down even more. His fattened buns didn't allow the pants to fall; rather, they hung on tenaciously to his beefy body. Tony's tight pants had dug in fiercely to his tender skin, and he scratched the red marks that only begun to fade. "You know, I think I'm gettin' fat, dude." Tony stood there in front of the mirror, still enamored with the reflection. He curled his fingers under the hem of his tank top and tugged it up until he bared his entire bloated belly.



I approached him from the side, reached over with my left hand, and smacked his dense round belly several times. "Could be, growin' boy… you might be workin' on that Freshman Fifteen that everyone always talks about."



Tony chuckled. "Feels like fifteen pounds of food alone in my gut tonight!"



"Well, dude, then that's a damn respectable start!"



~.~



The days passed, leaves started to fall from the trees and they floated lightly about in the crisp wind. Tony made it a point to be near-first in line at the dorm cafeteria's closed curtain so that he'd always get the freshest, hottest food; Tony made absolutely certain that he didn't miss a single meal in the dorm cafeteria. "I'm a growin' boy" he'd say to jokingly justify that extra second or third trip back to the line. Tony was right. His belly shaped up and bowed out in no time at all; the young Italian ex-jock's belly grew steadily, becoming an around-the-clock round meaty ball. He kept convincing himself that his 36" pants still fit; he'd suck in his growing belly and grunt and groan until he got them buttoned. Tony would look like the most decadent stuffed sausage in his impractical tight jeans and muscle tank top, and after a meal, his belly would plump up so much that he'd end up popping the top two buttons.



Tony had charmed one of the servers in the food line to the point of always getting what he wanted. I was pretty sure that she thought that she could get to Tony's heart through his stomach; there was definitely some added weight on Tony's beefy frame to which she could lay claim. Nonetheless, Tony would always make some rude comment about her as he stuffed his face with the generous portions she would have lovingly bestowed upon his plate.



Evenings became a ritual. We'd do homework until dinner time, then make haste down to the cafeteria. I had made it a point to have an abundance of irresistible junk food like Hostess pies, Little Debbie snacks, or fresh donuts in our room, and Tony would always be in them-- sometimes asking first, but most times just helping himself. I didn't mind at all and knew that my food donations were for a very good cause. I also kept a chocolate stash that he didn't know that I knew he knew about. Tony would gorge himself with dinner, finishing every last bit on his last trayful as to never leave a crumb to signal a potential sign of defeat. We'd then head back to the dorm room, me watching Tony as he'd swagger with the added weight of a overfull belly, listening as he'd belch and fart as his family-sized meal settled. As soon as we'd get back to our dorm room, he'd wriggle out of and shed his jeans like a pregnant snake shedding its skin, and then let his belly come to full swell with nothing to hold it back. Plopping down on his bed with beer close at hand, he'd watch TV and guzzle beer until his young Italian belly bloated up into a tight round dome; all the time Tony would be rubbing his belly, rubbing his crotch, belching, and doing whatever else felt good. I would try to concentrate on getting my homework done, but he made it very difficult.



~.~



"Alison, you up?" I asked after hearing a sleepy hello on the other end of the line.



"Yeah, kinda. Been a long time, Bri. What's up?"



"Well, my roomie's weight for one, Alison…"



"Serious?" there was immediate interest in her voice.



"Oh *hell* yeah, girl. This boy is an eatin' and beer-suckin' stud machine!"



"MMM! Tell me more!"



"Actually got his spreading cute ass down to the physical activity center the tonight. He hasn't worked out seriously in weeks now, and he was huffin' and puffin' all over the gym. Picture it: I'm getting a serious hard-on right there in the gym as he's lumbering around in these way-too-tight black spandex knee-length shorts and a dirty old white wifebeater that shows every succulent bump and bulge on this guy. He keeps catching his reflection in the mirrors and rubbing his belly-- keeps telling me that he thinks he's getting fat. So I told him that we should weigh his ass and find out… "



"I love it!"



"So, we finish our 'work-out' and go into the locker room and find a scale by the door to the steam sauna. Before he gets on it, he says to make it sporting-- so he says that we should bet a pizza on who can come closer in guessing his current weight. I'm trying to remember what his weight was on his driver's license, and he blurts out 195; so I guess 202, telling him I thought it was a good 'round number'… He says 'no way' that he weighs that much. Well, darned if I didn't watch his face change as I slid that counterweight all the way to a chunky 206. He was stunned for a minute, but came to his senses and proclaimed that I owed him a pizza. I patted his belly and told him that I would find one worthy of him."



"That's awesome. 206, huh? How much has he gained?"



"About 20 pounds since school began, I think. About 36 since that picture of him he has on his desk. I'm pretty sure he started his seefood diet during this last summer."



"So, he's gettin' a nice belly on him? You made it sound like he had awe-inspiring potential…"



"Alison, he's a tasty meat-a-ball! Seriously, Tony's belly has plumped perfectly. Round, solid, heavy, bellybutton starting to become more of an outie…there's the slightest hint of a bounce as he works his way up the dorm stairs… and his perfectly formed bubble buns-- they are ripening like tantalizing summer melons."



"Stop it! You're makin' my mouth water and I'm not going to be able go back to sleep!" Alison scolded me with a laugh in her voice. I had to laugh. "So, when are you treating him to his pizza?"



"Oh, that's already over. I took him to California Pizza Kitchen."



"Brian, those pizzas aren't that big."



"True-- *one* of those pizzas aren't that big-- try three. All by himself, he ate a whole Sweet & Spicy Italian Sausage, a whole Philly Cheesesteak, and a whole Peking Duck. Couldn't get the waiter to serve us beer, but Tony managed to drink a pitcher of Coke."



"Whoa. Incredible."



"Yeah, it was a historic event. Tony was stuffed so full that he couldn't move. I ate a dinner salad because he made it clear that he wasn't sharing the pizzas-- he had won them in our bet. Tony just sat there with this glazed look on his handsome young face-- his brown eyes twinkling in the dim glow of the overhead light. He just sat there, leaned back against the booth, trying to belch. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore-- I leaned forward, reached my arm across the table, and planted my finger in his rock-hard gut. I poked in as much as I could, making an explosion sound with my mouth. He got this funny smile on his lips and thanked me for the pizza."



"So, did you roll him home?"



"Pretty much. It took some effort to get him out of that booth-- it was pretty close quarters and he was all wedged in there. Plus, he just didn't want to move. Once he was out of the booth, all he wanted to do was get back to the dorm room, roll onto his bed, let his belly relax, and drink beer."



"I've got to get to know him," Alison told me.



"Sure. When?"



~.~



Halloween fast approached, and Tony had experienced the day of reckoning that he could no longer squeeze his growing heft into 36" jeans. Not that he spent all that much time in pants-- after all, they did come off immediately after he returned to the dorm room from another memorable meal in the dorm cafeteria. I would be treated nightly to a bare-bellied boxer-clad fully swollen Tony meandering about the dorm room, beer in hand, belly in the other hand, randomly gazing in the full length mirror. I'd sit there at my desk trying to do homework while Tony would belch and rub his way around the room. "Dude," he'd say to me as he'd walk up and stand beside me, "I'm gettin' fat, huh?" Tony would stick his belly out and then push it into me, and I would nearly be knocked off of my chair; I'd reach over and grab his beefy love handle area and then give him a couple thumps on his belly. "Tony, what can I say? You're a growin' boy."



A couple days before Halloween, we found ourselves coming back from dinner in the dorm cafeteria in an unexpected snow flurry. Tony trudged beside me with his brand-new size 38s burst open one button, and he rubbing his extraordinarily full belly. He'd gorged himself to his newfound limit with lasagna; his server friend had even brought out a plate special for him with a parsley garnish, along with a most generous piece of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake she'd made at home. Tony had thanked her for her special consideration, and the girl gently patted Tony's round belly and told him there was more cheesecake in the kitchen. Tony paused in the snow to break wind. He stood there with the snow collecting in his lush wavy hair, rubbing the stretched skin on his immensely swollen belly. "Dude, she patted my belly…"



"Yeah-- after she'd set you up with enough lasagna for a small Italian village and homemade cheesecake."



"Hmmm…well, I *am* extra full tonight...got a big ol' belly…"



"Hell, maybe she likes serving you up food as much as you like eatin' it."



"Huh. Maybe." Tony started on his way again and I followed. "Maybe she likes growin' boys. And she isn't that bad… She's kinda cool, actually. Hmmmm…"



~.~



Halloween Night arrived with Tony still undecided on what (if anything) to wear as a costume to the big off-campus party everyone had gotten invited to. I had settled on becoming a nun for the evening; Tony made it clear that he couldn't quite understand my choice.



"Well, I could dress up as a cowboy, I guess." Tony started rummaging through his closet. Eventually he pulled out a pair of black jeans, black cowboy boots, a white button-up dress shirt, and even a black cowboy hat.



"Wow, I didn't even know you had that stuff, Tony."



"Yeah, I got a few secrets," he said, chuckling.



The fun began as soon as Tony tried to pull on those black jeans. He barely got them up his meaty thighs, but no further. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and his audible frustration was becoming slightly painful. "Jeez-- these jeans fit six months ago. Now I can't even get them over my fat ass!" he said. Next, he pulled his white dress shirt on and smiled triumphantly as the button around the roundest part of his belly met with the hole on the other side. Tony sucked in his belly to button it; quickly the buttoned the rest and relaxed his belly. Stress marks immediately appeared around all of the buttons on his belly. "It fits!"



"Yep, it fits, Tony. It fits." I smiled knowing that the shirt wouldn't survive the evening once he started indulging himself in a free-flowing supply of keg-fresh beer.



Tony pulled on his recently washed 38 x 32s, struggling with them a bit as he tucked his shirt in and fastened all of the buttons in the fly. "Shit, these jeans are already tight. Well, I *did* just wash them--"



"Hey, they fit, Tony-- what are you worried about? Ready to go?"



The evening progressed nicely. Tony hovered around the food table and kept his large plastic cup brimming with keg-pumped beer. As Tony indulged himself in all of the treats he could get his hands on, his shirt began playing tricks on him; buttons that had been merely stressed took on the distinct appearance of being undeniably tortured. A small group of guys from the dorm decided to have a keg-tap contest where each potential contestant would place the keg tap in their mouths and gulp while someone else kept up the pumping at the keg. Each keg tap would be timed, and the winner would be the one with the longest uninterrupted time. Tony muscled his way in to the contest, and I just had to come with him and watch.



Joey was the first to eagerly accept the keg tap into this mouth; the six-foot freshman was instantly recognizable to me as the guy in the dorm cafeteria that always belched as loud as he could. Joey had put on a nice amount of weight; nowhere near Tony's amazing two-month gain, but he sported a tight round gut under a nicely muscled chest. He knelt down on the floor close to the keg, pulling the keg hose over to him as one guy stood to his left to ensure a constant stream flowed, one guy stood to his right with a watch, and a third stood by the keg to pump. "Ready, Joey?" Joey nodded his head, smiled, and got the keg tap situated in his hand. The guy on his left leaned over a bit and planted his hand on Joey's firm round belly. "Okay, fill him up!"



45 seconds later, Joey whipped the keg tap out of his mouth, gasping for air. The air cracked with an ear-splitting belch; Joey had appropriately punctuated his effort. Tony couldn't stand being made to wait longer, so he quickly volunteered to go next after he was already kneeling by the keg. The guy on the left surveyed Tony's prime example of fattened ex-jock belly, giving the protruding round mass of flesh a friendly pat of acknowledgment. "Dudes, check the belly on this guy. Better roll in the other keg now!" They all seem mesmerized for a second as they realized just how tightly Tony's button-up shirt fit around the ex-football player's expansive abdomen. "Let's pump that belly up with beer until those buttons pop!"



Tony tipped his hat, "much obliged!"



Tony's keg tap was, up to that point, the highlight of the party. A small crowd gathered after the one-minute mark passed; excited whispers spread attracting more onlookers to crane their necks. One interested onlooker in a princess costume pushed their way to the front of the crowd. "Chug! Chug! Chug!" became the encouraging chant. Tony's belly swelled bigger and bigger as it filled with beer; the keg pumper worked feverishly to keep a strong, steady stream. At 76 seconds, Tony nearly choked and put a hand on his belly. Football-shaped gaps formed between the most-stressed buttons. At 85 seconds, Tony dropped the keg tap from mouth and swallowed hard. His wide chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath. "What do ya think, people?" the timer called out, "85 seconds. Is that enough for our beer bellied cowboy?" There was a chorus of "Noooo!" Tony glowed with the attention and rubbed his fat round belly in wide circles; he felt the tickle of his trail of black hairs of his lightly furry belly poking through the gaps. Another chorus of enthusiastic voices could be heard in the cacophony of the room: "Bel-ly! Bel-ly! Bel-ly!"



"I think that guy's shirt is about to give away the origin of the term 'beer bust'!"



The guy on Tony's left encouraged the keg tap back into Tony's mouth, and soon enough Tony was happily sucking away at the ample keg's teat. As Tony's buzz got stronger, he relaxed his stomach muscles more and more; his belly swell accelerated, increasing the width of the gaps and causing serious stress on the buttons pulling across his expanding belly. A fevered acceleration of the chant permeated the beer-soaked air: "Bel-ly! Bel-ly! Bel-ly! Bel-ly!" At 50 seconds, the button located nearest the point of Tony's largest circumference liberated itself and flew off into space. A wild cheer erupted through the crowd. 55 seconds hit very shortly thereafter with Tony releasing his death grip on the keg tap's thumb switch. Tony blew out a belch brimming with satisfaction, resuming his self-gratifying belly rub. The guy with the watch couldn't help but reach over and thump Tony's bared section of beer-pumped belly.



"Has this guy had enough beer yet?!" Once again there was distinct confirmation that Tony had not yet had enough beer. The guys turned to Tony. They looked him in the eye. They looked down at his protruding belly. They looked him in the eye. "How's your belly, dude? I mean, it's so freakin' big that it looks like it's gonna explode!" Tony belched in the guy's face. "All in a night's work, dude. One more time, but I don't know long I'll be able to keep goin'."



One more time was it took for Tony to reach a limit he dared not cross. After only 40 seconds, Tony quit the keg tapping, drinking in the chants of "Bust the Bel-ly! Bust the Bel-ly! Bust the Bel-ly!" The guys helped Tony up, each taking a turn at giving appropriate respectful attention to the massively pumped beer belly that jutted distantly over Tony's freshly tightened 38" jeans. Tony waddled over my way and decided to unbutton the surviving buttons of his shirt. The sight was a load to behold, and Tony pulled his shirt out of his jeans and popped open the top jeans button for good measure. As the beer sunk in to do its magic, Tony got drunker and drunker. I swear I'd never seen him look fatter.



Tony pushed his belly into me and leaned forward to belch as close as he could to my ear. He had his hands positioned on each side of his protruding bare belly, and he lifted and shook it gently, propelling it warmly into my arm. "The guys on my old team would shit if they saw me with this big ol' fat belly. Coach would be pokin' me in the belly and callin' me a lardass! I know I couldn't run like I did in the big game…I walk up a flight of stairs luggin' this fat gut and I'm out of breath. I can't believe how much weight I've gained."



I turned and noticed the person in the princess costume approaching with a heaped plate of pizza slices. I think her intent was to offer a slice, but Tony thanked her and took the plate. As he shoved a slice into his mouth, I turned to him and grabbed his big belly with both hands. I shook its hefty mass from side to side and carefully bounced it up and down. "Eat, Tony, just eat-- and stop worrying about the few pounds you've gained. After all, you said yourself that you're a 'growin' boy'!"



Egg rolls with sweet and sour sauce. A variety of chips. Chocolate by the bagful. A plethora of pizza. Still-warm, freshly-made donuts made special and brought by an off-duty baker. A smorgasbord of Costco appetizers. And beer. Wonderful beer. Seemingly endless stream of beer. By 2AM, Tony claimed a new record for himself while he sat alone on the end of a sofa in a deservedly languid state. The girl in the princess costume and I had made it our evening's primary goal to provide Tony with an endless glut of food and beer. Tony was sprawled over the end of the sofa with one arm on the back and the other on the armrest; his spine was arched so as to force his mountainous bloated belly yet further out into the air. Tony's well-developed belly was blown up so big that its skin was taut and showing red fingers of stretch marks. I walked up to where he sat and put my hand on top of his outrageously swollen Italian belly--it was so dense that it didn't budge when I tried to push in during a quick belly rub. "Well, I think I've found the Great Pumpkin!"



Tony breathed shallowly as his half-closed eyes fluttered at me. The heavy Italian ex-jock dented the couch with his broad bubble butt and barely moved as I worked his taut belly over with both hands getting a full idea of the extent of his distension. "Hell, can't miss finding this pumpkin-- it's gotta be the biggest in the patch!" Tony belched in response to my rubbing his belly. "This pumpkin is pumped." Tony belched again, this time deeper and longer. "I'm stuffed to my tits and I don't think my belly is gonna stretch to hold any more. Guess it's time to go home."



"Yeah, we should get you back to the dorm room before you fall asleep here. You're gonna be way too heavy for me to carry!"



The journey back to the dorm room was made more memorable with Tony's soft moaning, occasional belch, and regular belly rubbing. I drove his truck as he was too dazed with food and drink to drive-- not to mention, the unprecedented swell of his gorged belly would have made turning the wheel difficult. Once upstairs in the dorm (we had to take the elevator) and into our room, Tony woke up a bit from his beer and food coma. He couldn't wait to slip his open one-button-missing shirt off his beefy shoulders, and wriggled out of his jeans very shortly thereafter. Suddenly, there was the biggest, juiciest Tony I'd ever seen posing in his taut boxers in front of the closet mirror. Tony was hypnotized by his wide reflection as he slowly slid his hands under his pooched-out belly, lifted its heft as far as he could, and then let the round mound drop. I found myself walking behind him after I'd removed my whimsical costume and then pausing to place my hands on his broad shoulders to knead his tight muscles. Tony kept his gaze on his reflection but pushed his fattened bubble butt against me, leaning his shoulders back against my upper chest. The angle on my arms became uncomfortable, and it felt natural to just reach around both sides of him and latch on to his big full belly. Tony put his arms down, over my arms, giving my fingers permission to walk across the stretched expanse of skin on his belly.



"Happy Halloween, Tony…I trust that you got your fill of treats tonight, fat boy. This pregnant belly of yours is hard like a rock!"



Tony's eyes closed as I began to really massage the biggest and densest part of his belly. The temporary silence of the room was broken by one of Tony's famous satisfied belches; the tone and length of which I had recognized as indicative of a completely gorged state. "You can be sure."



"You know, Tony, you could have worn an orange tank top for a costume tonight and been The Great Pumpkin…"



Tony chuckled. "No kiddin', dude."



As I continued to rub, thump, and smack his distended belly, Tony got heavier and heavier against me and was starting to push me backwards. I pushed back against him, abruptly finding that the straight-up-aimed hard-on in my briefs slotted comfortably between his deep ass crack. Tony kind of tensed for a minute when he realized that a hot dog had slid between his buttery buns, but relaxed again as I reached my arms further around his belly and squeezed the big round ball. Releasing my tight hug, I began slapping his belly with alternating hands. Then I noticed Tony's substantial cock snaking its way out of his boxers' gaping fly. As its mass became fully engorged with blood, its shaft levitated parallel to the floor as its head throbbed with every beat of his heart.



"Dude, I'm gettin' tired of standin'…gotta lay down."



Tony swaggered over to my bed and took his time in getting settled on his back. Once positioned, he then worked his boxer shorts off and tossed them in the direction of his bed. There lay Tony-- fat stuffed belly very much a mini-mountain rising to the sky with its black fur trail leading up and then back down over its summit, stiff cock sticking straight up like a gear shift, chunky thighs spreading apart with his knees bent out at a slight angle. I walked over to the side of the bed with a mischievous smile on my face, swallowing back the drool that had collected in my mouth.



"Tony, this is my bed…"



"…Yeah, and now you have to figure out how to get me off…" Tony reached down to wrap his fingers around his fat cock, "of it…"



~.~



"Wanna work out before dinner, big guy?" I asked Tony, smiling at the fact that he had chosen a sinfully tight pair of boxer shorts and one of the too-short T-shirts he'd shrunk in his last laundry load. Tony stood in front of his closet door surveying his wardrobe. Three more weeks of gorging in the dorm cafeteria, nightly beer guzzling, frequent supplemental pizza meals, and journeys out to the local fast food restaurants and buffets had accumulated nicely on Tony's ex-jock physique. Tony's too-tight T-shirt stretched itself around his solid round belly, clearly outlining his belly button and highlighting his juicier pecs and attentive nipples. Tony's beautiful round ass had gotten fatter, adding a more extreme dimension to his body from the side view. His chunky tree-trunk thighs rubbed together and the hair on the insides of his thighs became scarce.



"Sure, maybe it'll give me an appetite…" Tony laughed, "besides, you just want to get my fat ass on that scale. You want to see if I've gained any more weight."



I moved over a couple of steps to where Tony stood; placing one hand on his lower back and sliding the other hand under his firm round belly bulge, I rubbed his fattened table muscle. "Oh Tony," I began, "Tony, Tony, Tony-- I can see that you've gained some more weight. All you've done since Halloween is eat, eat, eat and guzzle beer." Tony relaxed his big ol' belly into my hand and belched for my benefit. "I'm just curious how much you weigh now, growin' boy. Aren't you a little curious?"



"I suppose. Plus, I really should do a few reps to pump up my chest and arms…I kind of miss that."



Soon, Tony was poised to step on that familiar scale by the sauna. Joey, that handsome ex-jock that had been the first at the Halloween keg tap, was in the locker room getting dressed after his shower. It was apparent that Joey had been religiously strapping on a sizeable feedbag as his belly had blossomed impressively, and he buttoned up his tight Levis to walk over to where Tony and I stood at the scale. Joey showed off the fact that his belly jutted out over the taut waistband in a nicely fattened roll, holding his T-shirt in his hand.



"Hey guys," Joey greeted, surveying the mesmerizing stretch of the cotton material of Tony's T-shirt. "Hey, aren't you the champion keg tapper, dude?" Joey reached over and pushed the palm of his hand into Tony's fat round belly, keeping firm pressure against the fleshy ball as his hand traveled in one lazy loop around the expanse of well-fed Italian midsection.



Tony chuckled as he replayed the title in his head. "Champion keg tapper-- yeah, I guess that's me." Tony patted his belly. "I was so full of beer that night you guys could have tapped my belly!"



"I remember," Joey assured us. "So, you here checkin' your gains?" Joey slapped his hands onto his own hefty paunch and used his fingers to knead it bit. "This dorm food really sticks to your ribs…I've been getting a fat stomach!"



I drank in the sight of the two juicy ex-jocks and smiled at Joey, my eyes darting to Joey's plump and meaty overhang. "A lot of guys have been getting fat stomachs, dude. How are you supposed to control your appetite when you can go back as many times as you want? Poor Tony here just doesn't know when to stop once he gets to eatin' in that cafeteria."



Tony stepped on the scale. "Aw shit, I stop eatin' when I want to, Brian! I just would rather not stop eatin'…" He fumbled with the weights as the bar clunked to one side. Joey and I watched as Tony set the one weight marker on 200, then slid the other weight to the right… Tony belched as some Little Debbie snack cakes and a quart of milk settled in his stomach. Tony's finger pushed the weight right past 206, with the bar remaining uninterested in moving. "Jeez--" Tony said, slowly and anxiously moving the weight on past the 210 mark, "I've never weighed this much…" The weight marker continued its journey to the right; 215, then 220. "Shit-- no way, there has to be something wrong with this scale. I couldn't have gained 14 pounds in a month, could I?"



Joey and I looked at each other and smiled, nodding our heads in agreement. Joey offered, "yeah, you could, dude! Especially if you know what you're doin'!"



Tony seemed to be relieved at seeing the needle finally beginning to rise towards the balancing point as he approached 225. The pound-marks ticked off like a countdown, and finally the scale measurement stabilized at 224. "Holy shit, dudes-- two hundred and twenty-four pounds…" Tony breathed and calculated in his head a minute, "my God-- I'm 54 pounds over my playing weight!"



Tony stamped off the scale as Joey stepped on. Joey was three inches taller than Tony, and had been working out more; however, the differences added up to a surprisingly similar weight-- Joey was 225. "Wow," Joey realized, "I've added more than my share of the Freshman 15!" Joey caressed his nicely pooched belly. "But look at the bright side-- Thanksgiving is only a week away and we're in pretty decent shape for it!"



"Just like a couple of big ol' Tom turkeys, fattened up and ready to be stuffed," I told them, reaching my hands out to my sides and thumping each gut in unison.



Tony ate up the attention. "Oh yeah, I'm definitely ready…rub me with a stick of butter and baste me with beer!"



Joey laughed. "So, you guys going to the caf for dinner?"



"Yeah. Let's go."



Forgetting all about his workout, Tony became much more interested in the prospect of a big dinner. Joey had applied his taut T-shirt, the smallish piece of clothing looking like a second skin after he'd pulled it down as far as it would go; I noticed that he packed his 36" jeans tightly, seeing where the waistband was crunching down and biting into his skin. Once in the dorm cafeteria, it became clear as crystal that Joey's waistband wasn't the only hungry participant in the evening meal's proceedings. Tony cheered as he discovered that it was once again Chicken Parmesan night; Joey showed enthusiasm as well. Before long, the two meaty ex-jocks were seated across the table from each other, their attention riveted on their heaped trayfuls of food and milk. I sat next to Tony on his right, watching as his beefy body swelled with his absolute favorite dorm cafeteria meal-- spiral pasta tonight to complement the chicken parm.



The two growing boys belched frequently, Joey's trademark rumblers attracting attention from up to two tables away. I offered to get them both more food so that they wouldn't have to get up; they thanked me for my generosity and put in their orders. Tony's belly ballooned itself bigger and bigger, stressing his taut T-shirt even more and causing its bottom hem to lift and shift upward to expose his furry bellybutton. Tony plopped his hand down on top of his swollen belly and let it rest on the ledge that had been created under his pecs. Becoming typically adventuresome, Tony's hand then traveled around the front and sides of his belly, rubbing it with total engrossment until the needed massage resulted in a protracted belch. On the other side of the table, Joey did the same, realizing that he was going to have to pop open his jeans to continue gorging. Fortunately for ever-hungry Tony, the elastic waistband of his spandex shorts grew as he did.



By quarter of seven, the two profoundly well-fed ex-jocks were both leaned back surveying the imposing size and accomplished shape of their stomachs. Joey's T-shirt had lifted as well, baring a band of taut belly that sat on top of and crushed his open jeans waistband; Tony used both hands to rub his distended belly. They literally groaned when I offered to make another food supply trip.



"Well, stick me with a fork-- I'm done," Joey announced confidently as he proudly thumped his belly to show how hard it had become. "Tony, my two hundred and twenty-four pound friend, you've rounded out!"



"I'll say he rounded out," I agreed, reaching over to put my hand on Tony's big round belly and rub it gently from side to side, "he's about as pregnant as I've ever seen!"



Tony appreciated the attention and allowed me the honor of rubbing his turgid belly. "Yeah, I have to admit that I really overdid it tonight. Stick me with a fork, and I'd probably pop! Best just to get the forklift and haul my bloated ass outta here!"



Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tony's favorite food line server approaching with something in her hands. As she got closer, I could see that it was a pie. "Fresh-baked cherry pie, guys. I baked it this morning!"



Tony and Joey smiled at each other and groaned a "thank you" from the bottoms of their completely stuffed stomachs. She looked directly at Tony with a doe-eyed expression as her eyes traveled down from Tony's beginning double chin to where his belly pooched out the farthest. "Hi Tony…"



"Hi Alison…" Tony smiled as he patted his belly. "Mmm…fresh-baked cherry pie sounds so good."



"Dessert is always a good idea to finish off a pleasant meal," Alison wisely stated as she drew close to Tony's side, "unless, of course, your tummy is too full already…" Alison stuck her finger in Tony's belly and gently pushed her finger in as far as it would go. "Hmm…well, Tony, that's a pretty full tummy."



I winked at Alison. "Not too full to pass up a nice dessert like that, huh, Tony? Joey?"



Tony belched out a "nope'.



"Very good" was Alison's answer to the belch as she continued to enjoy the sight of Tony's bulging full belly. "I've planned a big Thanksgiving dinner next week for some friends. What are you guys gonna be doing?"



Joey told us he was going home for the long weekend. Tony and I knew each other's plans mostly, and both of us knew our Thanksgiving calendars were wide open. "Well, I was waiting for Tony to fatten up enough by Thanksgiving, then I was going to stuff him with pizza, sauté him in beer until he split like a sausage, and eat him…"



Alison laughed, "how Hannibal of you!" Tony chuckled, and Joey stared blankly as his packed gutful of food started to digest.



"Well, now, Brian may have a point--" Tony injected, leaning back enough to really showcase his fattened round flesh basketball and running his hand up and down its circular front, "I'd admit that from that viewpoint, I'd make quite a delicious meal."



"World's largest and beefiest ravioli!" I blurted.



"But seriously, you want to come to my apartment for dinner?"



"Absolutely," Tony assured her, serving himself a piece of that cherry pie, "want us to bring anything?"



"Just your appetites."



"Well, I never forget to bring that."



Alison left and the two big outta-shape ex-jocks decided to launch a full frontal assault on the defenseless cherry pie. Not surprisingly, Tony cleaned up the lion's share as Joey leaned back, breathing shallowly due to the magnitude of his overfull stomach.



"Dude, I just don't know how you can eat all that," Joey pointed out to the incredibly huge and bloated Tony. "Your belly looks like a balloon about ready to POP!"



Tony scooted his butt forward on his chair and let his belly stick out. "Practice, Joey, practice…"



As the dining room closed for the evening, the three of us walked back to the dorm. Tony just waddled with his tightly over-stuffed belly wobbling in front of him; belching and/or farting about every ten steps. Joey marveled at the advanced size of his own belly, guarding his distended paunch as he rolled out belches like thunderclaps. "Joey, wanna come up to the room for a beer?"



"Sure!"



Delighted that the boys weren't finished growing for the evening, I followed them upstairs and watched as they made themselves comfortable in our dorm room. Joey popped open the top two buttons on his extra-tight jeans, and allowed his tightly packed belly to swell to a full and unimpeded bulge. Tony retained his spandex and cotton sausage-casing, having no problem with leaving his T-shirt lifted a bit and displaying plenty of stuffed belly.



I brought them beers, and they both guzzled until the last of it was gone. With nothing more to put in their gargantuan guts, Tony and Joey decided to call it an evening. Joey, his belly skin stretched past the point of taut, stood up from laying on Tony's bed and lumbered his way over to my bed, where Tony had once again taken up expansive residence. As Joey bent over, he squeezed out a belch that had been waiting a while to escape. Smacking down his hand atop Tony's tall mountain of indulgence, Joey thumped the thick rotund mass until Tony surrendered a manly belch. "Damn, but you're gettin' to be a fat ass. We'll see who gains the most by New Year's."



The extra-large stud trailed out the door after the subtlest of challenges, and I could see that Tony was already working through his strategy in his head.



~.~



There were only a few days left before the gluttony of the Thanksgiving break began, and Joey made a concerted effort to dine with us as often as possible-- breakfasts, lunches, dinners; the accelerated mealtime rivalry enhanced Joey's renewed appetite and pushed him ever farther to greater capacity. Tony would have gorged himself into a giant swollen mass regardless of whether or not Joey was sitting there desperately trying to out-eat and out-drink him; however, the rivalry was most welcome in guaranteeing totally unrestrained gluttony.



For the Wednesday dinner before Thanksgiving Day, the dorm cafeteria folks actually offered up a turkey dinner with all of the fixins. There were only a few guys that were very interested in taking painfully full advantage of the broad spectrum of holiday foods, and they bellied up to fat-laden piles of food quite literally like there was no tomorrow. Tony and Joey led the packed pack in enthusiastically stuffing themselves and in no time their rotund bellies were riding high and tight in their laps. Joey actually had a plane to catch to go home for the break, which made his fork-shovel turn into a blur. Joey's 36" jeans hadn't buttoned in that last two days, and tonight his pumped puffball protruded amply over the wide-open "V" of the waistband. Announcing his intended departure with a loud belch, Joey rose from his chair and stroked his fattened belly with his hand.



"Dude, the airline is gonna ask you to check that hefty gut as luggage!" I joked, watching Joey's hand survey the liberal expanse of filled midsection.



Tony chuckled at Joey's facial expression. "Full belly. Gooooood…" Tony comforted, leaning back and running his hand across his bloated round gut.



Joey sauntered over and pushed his finger into Tony's exposed belly button. "Wayyyy full belly. Even better…"



As the two smiled in total agreement, I about came in my pants watching them. "Have a great Thanksgiving, Joey. Hope you get way too much to eat!"



Tony reached up and thumped Joey's ball of belly. "Yeah, better get caught up bellywise."



Joey's facial expression melted into one of supreme confidence. "No problem, fat boy. I'll be able to fit all of you in my belly when I get back."



"We'll see…we shall see…"



~.~



The next morning, Tony woke up with his usual food hangover. Still bloated, he traversed the room in his even-tighter boxers. It was funny how he'd switch back and forth between boxers and briefs, but he did both justice.



"We'd better get ready, Tony. Alison wanted us over there by 2. Be sure to wear something loose-fitting because I'm sure that you're going to expand more than enough to fill it out."



Tony tilted his head away from his closet musing for a moment. "You expect me to find something in my closet that's still loose-fitting? I've gotten so fat that I really have to work my new 38's over my pork buns so that they can barely reach to button under my gut. My favorite shirts don't cover my big fat belly."



"Well, in that case, fat boy, find something that stretches easily and a lot."



The hotly stubbled Tony scratched his chubby cheek. "They should make a special line of clothes for growing college boys. I know that I'm not the only guy around here that can't get the pants buttoned that he brought at the beginning of the school year. It's even worse for us ex-jocks because we were used to eatin' too much. Add to that, I'm Italian, and I was raised to eat big…"



"You poor guy, Tony. You really have your set of problems," I consoled him. Walking over behind him, I slipped my hands around his fatter belly and gave it a good massage. "But today is Thanksgiving, and we have to stuff you into some sort of outfit and get you to Alison's so that you can gorge yourself with turkey and stuffing and pie."



"Mmmmm…" Tony drooled.



After Tony had been appropriately inspired and after having painted on a pair of old red sweat pants and too-small wifebeater, the well-fed Italian ex-jock was ready for what the day as to bring. We knocked on Alison's apartment door and were quickly greeted by her smiling face. The aroma of roast turkey permeated the air. Tony and I stepped in and were surprised to see the mass on Alison's long couch; loud snoring echoed off of the living room walls.



"Who's that?" I asked, sensing that Tony had stiffened up a bit when he saw what he believed to be competition for his food.



"Oh, that's Taylor."



Stretching a well-worn pair of yellow football shorts, I could tell he wasn't interested in hiding his manhood in underwear of any sort. His #71 uniform shirt looked like it would simply burst, and it was pulled up around the substantial girth of his ribline. Taylor's fat spherical gut took over the bulk of the middle of the couch; his big hand rested high atop the immense bulge and levitated up and down as the giant snoozed. One of his beefy arms had fallen off the side and was reaching toward the floor. His head was pushed forward a bit to highlight his double chin.



"6'3" 300# Taylor. About as full as he can possibly be," Alison proudly stated.



"Uh-oh. Guess we're late for dinner and Taylor is it!"



"Don't be silly. Taylor just came from Jill's house. That huge round gut is stuffed with about 15 pounds of turkey and God knows what else she fed him. Jill and I adopted some of the football players that couldn't go home for break. He might eat a little more later, but I think he's pretty much done." She turned to Tony and put her hand against his round fat belly. "Don't worry, Tony, there's plenty to go around."



Tony made sure he was comfortable when he sat at her dining room table, as he didn't move any muscles except for his arms and jaw for an entire hour. Awakened by Tony's frequent loud belches, Taylor tumbled off of the couch and crawled on all fours over to the dining room table. Taylor's giant solid gut hung down like a fattened bear's following a highly successful salmon run. Tony began chewing faster, greedily stuffing his cheeks until they were about to burst with food. The two began talking football almost immediately and bonded over mashed potatoes and memorable plays. Full mouths muffled some discussion, but a load of things was getting accomplished.



Tony fit two hours of eating into an hour and a half, and his gut really showed it. Soon, Alison and I were coaxing Tony into another bite here and another bite there. Tony's wifebeater had rode up his ballooning belly all through the meal and the hemline was a crisp white edge around his puffball just above his widening belly button. Taylor had gotten in a turkey leg, a piggish pile of breast meat smothered in gravy and over two plate-mountains of stuffing and mashed potatoes; he'd also buttered and crammed six fresh-baked buns into this mouth. Taylor was actually perspiring and the beads of sweat glistened in the glow of the dining room chandelier.



"Oh Godddd, I'm sooo full," moaned the oversized Taylor. His double-stuffed stomach jutted out under his ribcage in a noticeably defined bulge, and his overall girth had substantially increased since his nap on the sofa. "I've got to stop eating before I explode!"



Tony whistled in appreciation of Taylor's titanic tummy, realizing that Taylor was probably about a foot and a half bigger around than he was. Tony was rubbing, patting, and slapping his own belly, hoping to push out as much belch air as possible so that he could stuff more in. "Dude, why would you want to stop eating? It's Thanksgiving for God's sake. Our duty as able-bellied red-blooded American males is to eat turkey and pie until every crumb is obliterated."



Taylor leaned back in his chair and put his hands on each side of his distended belly. "Well, I've done double duty today and my brain is telling me to give my belly a break before it busts itself wide open like an overripened watermelon. But you go ahead, Tony."



"Yeah, Tony. Go ahead. Alison has made enough food to bust a few Taylor-sized potbellied linemen. Don't forget that Joey is home right now himself working on his all-you-can-eat physique. Who's gonna be biggest by Sunday night is kind of up to you, sport!"



Taylor's presence coupled with reminder of Joey's rivalry inspired Tony to attack the pie selection with surprising ferocity. Tony's immense ball of gut was shiny it had become so full. As Taylor grunted his way up to leave to go to his next houseful of turkey, he stopped by Tony to thump his fattened rock-hard gut. "We should go out for pizza some night and see whose belly is boss," Taylor challenged.



Tony released a hearty belch with Taylor's concentrated gutthumping, "that would be pretty cool. We'll have to go to that all-you-can-eat place for the lunchtime buffet. I'll bring this guy I know is trying to put on some weight."



"Tight, dude. Well, keep workin' on this belly, ya little butterball," Taylor quipped, knowing that any gut compared to his was going to be on the 'little' side.



Tony leaned over and spoke into Taylor's cavernous belly button as if it were the microphone at the fast food drive-through. "Okay, will do do do," he said, pretending there to be an echo.



With Taylor out of the picture, Tony was the star gut of the show eating up as much attention as food. Alison and I thought it wise to move him to the couch and turn the TV on for him to nap to, before she began making his traditional Italian favorites to tempt his overstuffed gut into oblivion.



~.~



By the Sunday night following Thanksgiving, Tony had become so much fatter that he looked at least six inches bigger around his belly all the time. The porked-up chunk basically sat or laid about the dorm room, eating, digesting, or planning his next meal. He'd sent me on so many beers and junk food runs that the clerks at the grocery store were asking me if I was fortifying an army. His fattened ball of belly had become so stretched out on Thanksgiving Day that his dining capacity was forever increased; eating enough to fill his big empty space was becoming quite a chore. Tony had eaten all day Sunday, starting with a ridiculously large breakfast and gorging his way through bags of hamburgers and tacos, a couple large pizzas, and a multi-hour stay at the barbecue buffet.



Returning to the dorm, the enormously swollen Tony swaggered down the hallway to our dorm; the insides of his thighs rubbed together making audible noise as the chubby legs whisked by each other. The thoroughly overfed stud's spherical belly exploded outward high above the taut elastic waistband of his familiar sweat pants, and it basically moved on its own authority. Tony had boldly allowed his skintight wifebeater to ride up his rounded solid gut and bare his glistening tight belly skin. Tony was still in the process of swallowing his gutbusting barbecue meal like a giant snake, so he launched a man-sized belch on a seismically frequent basis.



Guys were getting back from their breaks and were milling about the hallways. Still unfamiliar with just how big he'd gotten, Tony managed to bump his solidly bloated belly into more than a couple guys that were just in his way. When one guy saw Tony's belly, he stroked his own, pointed out his popped jeans button, and nodded in acknowledgment. As Tony passed the guy next door, he patted Tony's shoulder and then dragged his hand across the full expanse of Tony's bare belly.



"I just gotta pat this belly. Damn, you're gettin' huge!" The next door neighbor smacked Tony's tightly packed gut over and over. "Definitely fatter than before Thanksgiving. It's gonna take two hands to roll this ball of dough!"



Tony chuckled and bumped his fat gut into the doorway as he entered our room. We had just closed the door when there was a knock.



"Joey!" I announced, my eyes immediately drawn to his middle. There it was-- Joey's impressive contribution to the wide world of well-developed guts-- bigger and rounder and popped out over excruciatingly taut jeans.



"Just call me Pop 'n Freshman." Joey stated, introducing his plump belly bulge. Joey proudly slapped his pumped-up basketball and made his whole belly bounce. The old thermal undershirt he'd squeezed into looked absolutely painted on him and I easily located and plunged my finger in his deepened belly button.



"Come on in, guy. Thanksgiving was good to you, too!"



Tony was where he usually was, sprawled on his bed with his fat belly up in the air. Joey took one look at Tony and his smile just beamed. "Whoa…" Joey breathed in an awestruck tone, "look at this gut!" Bending over to really get in touch with Tony's bloated belly, Joey put both hands on it and shook it from side to side. "Man, that belly is heavy with child. I've never seen a guy's belly look so completely pregnant!"



Belching his acknowledgement for the belly homage, Tony also returned Joey's radiant smile. "You didn't do so bad yourself, Joey. You're rounding out pretty nice yourself."



"Before you guys have some beers to celebrate, I think we should roll your fat asses down to the scale to see what the weekend's damages were," I offered.



"Hell, yeah!"



Because it was mostly a downhill trek, we were soon in the physical education complex, ready for the weighty weigh-in. Stripped down to their tightie-whities, both looked so deliciously soft and buttery. Tony's well-developed gut stuck out distantly in space, almost as much as his padded bubble butt jutted out in the rear. The young overfed Italian hunk's stuffed underwear slid down into place under his plump belly with the waistband doing its best to s-t-r-e-t-c-h to accommodate his much thicker middle. Joey was very doughy; he was easily bigger around, including some additional heft on his love handles.



I weighed them quickly because I knew they were anxious. Joey was first. "Big guy, looks like 230#."



"Five pounds in four days…that's pretty good." Joey seemed a bit disappointed.



"Okay, fat boy. On the scales, Tony!"



Tony's eyes widened as the little weight slid across the bar. "235 pounds."



"Jesus! 11 pounds?" Tony blurted.



"Tony, you've been eating like a pig! Plus, you ate all day…"



"Oh, that's right."



~.~



Right up until Christmas, Tony and Joey launched an all-out offensive on the dorm cafeteria's food supply and stuffed and stuffed and stuffed. To some extent, I think the cooks in the dorm cafeteria began to make more and more Italian dishes, which only increased the feeding frenzy. They became so big, fat, and obnoxious in the dorm cafeteria that a small throng of gut-groupies started hanging around our table. I wasn't sure, but I think they were even betting on how much they would eat in any given over-abundant meal. Alison had given up on any sort of relationship with Tony as she just couldn't compete with Chicken Parmesan, but still supported his cause by supplying him with generous portions and special treats. Taylor, the giant footballer we'd met at Thanksgiving, had begun his off-season early with an unfortunate (yet minor) injury and blew up substantially.



Christmas vacation became the nonstop calorie-jammed glutfest I had expected it to be. Tony rolled onto the plane at a sinfully fattened 250 pounds to fly back east for three weeks of homemade Italian delicacies. His family was somewhat surprised about how large he had grown since the end of summer; after all, Tony completely filled brand-new 40" jeans and spilled out all of his shirts. Although his dad and mom were kind of ambivalent about Tony getting so fat in such a short amount of time, they didn't hesitate to push food his way. Like a baby bird that had never flown the nest, Tony was back at mama's table with his mouth wide open; he loved to eat and she loved to feed. His mother seemed resolute in filling Tony's much bigger space. She quickly realized that she'd be defeated if she didn't call in reinforcements; she got into the habit of calling her sister over to help make all of the fresh pasta, sauces, breads, and holiday treats to stuff down Tony's gullet. Day by day, Tony grew fatter and fatter. His friends visited him at home because he was usually too heavy and full to go too far, and they would all have the same pleasant reaction to Tony's ever-increasing size.



The holidays became a collection of fond memories as the students began returning to the dorm. Tony and Joey ended up arriving at the airport around the same time and agreed to take a taxi back together. Tony may have rolled onto the plane, but he must have popped out of it like the plane was giving birth. He'd weighed himself at home before he'd left and proudly told me that he was now 275 pounds. Locked in his house like a beefer in a feedlot, he'd packed on another 25 pounds; the chunky Italian stud's belly looked like a small moon with one deep wide crater in its southern hemisphere. Tony's well-buttered bubble butt was blessedly huge as well and gave the needed balast to his colossal gut. He'd easily out-gorged and out-grown Joey, whose belly had totally blossomed over Christmas landing him at a most plump 251.



"So, Tony, make any New Year's Resolutions?" I asked, patting his hot butterball of fat.



"Yep. Eat, drink, and be fat and drunk." Punctuating his statement with an ear-splitting belch, Tony was ready for his next year.