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.

Weekend Eye Candy

I'm off to visit a friend for the weekend, so, I most likely won't be updating till Sunday at the earliest. There are a few pics after the jump to get you guys through till I return

Gotta love the preppy fatboy. Only he should be clean shaven and have his collar popped.



I love a man in a button down and a tie.



I still love a man in a button down and a tie.



And finally, Jared Leto, the normally skinny and beautiful Hollywood actor, now fat and still beautiful, after having put on a bunch of weight to play John Lennon's killer in a movie. If only this was the Hollywood ideal.

My Cousin Kurt

Originally posted on Beefyfrat, this anonymous story presents an interesting and well-written twist on the traditional gainer stories. Although at least one of my friends was a bit put off by the fact that it's being told from the point of view of the main character's little cousin, there is no incest, and actually a pretty hot college boy gainer competition at the end. The plot is a little fantastical, but the detailed and earnest descriptions make this story stand out.

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…

V8 does a belly good

Ok, so, the guy in the commercial may not be the biggest guy out there, but man, I there's something about a guy just starting to go to pot. There's something to his laid back machismo, as he drinks out of the bottle with his little starter belly pouching out over his pajama pants. Something about how you can see that his gut is challanging his vanity, just drives me nuts. See the vid for yourself after the jump.