Thicc Boy Heaven

…But it didn’t take long before I wasn’t satisfied with my new fat. I loved my little belly, but it was nowhere near enough. I needed to be even fatter. The freshman fifteen (plus some) wasn’t enough for me anymore. I needed to grow fatter.

And so I did. By the beginning of November I had gained another 17 pounds, bringing my weight up to 179 pounds. I’d gained 43 pounds since I started college, and it was showing. By now it was becoming hard to hide my gains; my basketball sized belly and new love handles pushing against even my biggest shirts, and the button on my jeans was becoming almost impossible to button up. I now had proper moobs, and my nipples kept getting hard from rubbing against my tight clothes. But I didn’t care, and I kept wearing my tight clothes around campus. Of course, I’d get looks from the jocks who were staring at my midsection, but the memory of them melted away as soon as I started eating again.

And then one day, everything changed. I was walking by the school’s rec center, my belly, still full from lunch, leading the way. As I passed near the doors, two of the hottest football players left the gym and made eye contact with my belly right as a gust of wind exposed the bottom few inches of skin. “Fuck man, hit the gym up at least once,” he said to me, his friend giggling as he added, “Looking soft there, fatty!” I walked away, face flushed.

As I was walking away, I made myself a challenge: I was going to pass 200 pounds by Christmas Break. He was going to see how much of a fatty I was going to become.

So I set off to work. I started riding the bus to class to reduce exercise. I blew off my friends when they invited me to work out with them. And of course, I started to eat even more. I would eat when I was studying, eat when I was hanging out in my dorm, and most of my free time was spent at the cafeteria. My meals also began to grow, too. Two plates at lunch turned into three, and dinner was now becoming a twice daily event. I was becoming used to the feeling of having a constantly stuffed belly. And of course, my body grew to match.

Finals week was finally here. Despite all the effort I was putting into fattening myself up, I was still a good student, so I passed all my classes with flying colors. On the last day of the semester, I stuffed myself with Breakfast, Lunch, First Dinner and Second Dinner, and was itching to see if I reached my goal. I stepped onto the scale in the bathroom, and had to lean forward to see around my bloated belly. 203 pounds. I did it! I went from being a skinny little 136 pound boy to a jiggling 203 pound fatty in just one semester.

I was officially a fat boy, like the ones I’d admired for years.

Unfortunately, it was much harder to gain weight when I was at home during break. My parents were shocked at how fat I’d gotten and tried to cut down on the amount of food I was eating. I was constantly hungry, a feeling that I hadn’t felt in months. As soon as I moved back into my dorm, I weighed myself, expecting to have lost some weight. Instead I learned that I had somehow gained around 6 pounds over break.

I should’ve known then that it would be impossible to stop growing. That I’d never stop getting fatter. But of course, I was too hungry and greedy to care. As soon as the spring semester started, I was back to my routine of fattening myself up.

Fuck, I couldn’t stop. I kept stuffing myself with fattening foods every meal until I could barely get up. I kept getting off to my fattened, jiggling body. I kept popping buttons. And I kept watching as the number on the scale kept climbing higher and higher. 209 pounds turned into 221, and eventually those 221 pounds turned into 236. And of course, I’d keep running into that same jock from the gym last semester, and every time I saw him I was a little fatter. And I think he noticed it, too. Two months into the new semester and I had officially gained one hundred pounds since I moved to college.

Any semblance of my skinny self was completely gone, buried under my big belly. I’d finally caved and bought clothes with X’s in the size, and I was surprised at how quickly I filled into them. My belly was rounder and heavier than ever, dominating my frame and straining my clothes. I finally had an overhang now, and it was becoming more and more common for a sliver of belly to poke out under my clothes My moobs had grown to match my belly, sticking out from my chest and beginning to rest on top of my belly. My arms and legs were thick and flabby, not even a hint of muscle definition under all my fat. And my ass was widening nicely, pushing outwards against all my pants. I was growing huge, and loving every new inch of my body. I’d lay in bed, jiggling my belly and feeling as my entire body wobbled as I played with it. I relished in the looks that people gave me when my belly was exposed or made a noise. And I especially enjoyed rubbing my belly after a huge meal, feeling my fingers sink into my soft fat. I was unstoppable. And I still wanted more.

Weeks passed, and Spring Break came around the corner much faster than I anticipated. By now I was feeling pretty huge, weighing in at 254 pounds. My friends had invited me on a trip to the beach, and I realized then that my swimming suit from the beginning of the year was laughably small on me now, barely making it halfway up my thighs. The day before I left, I was forced to buy the only thing I could find: a speedo. I mean, it fit pretty well, but it displayed my fat body in all its jiggling glory, emphasizing how fat I’d let myself get. When I arrived at the beach, it was clear just how fat I had gotten during the school year. All my friends were varying degrees of toned and slim, especially when compared to my belly. They would spend hours showcasing their bodies as they tanned, or running into the warm ocean. Meanwhile, I was getting in line at the food truck multiple times a day just to satisfy my greedy belly. Every time I got into the water, the waves made my belly wobble and jiggle in ways I’d never felt before, and it was a challenge hiding my boner in my tight speedo.

And then it happened. On my last day at the beach, as I was drying myself off, I saw him. That jock that I kept running into. If I was being honest, he looked better than ever; pecs bulging, abs glistening in the sun, and rippling arms and legs that carried his perfectly sculpted body with ease. And fuck, he was walking closer to me. There was no way to hide myself, or my significantly bigger belly, so all I could do was hold my breath and pray he didn’t recognize me.

But of course, he did. He stopped walking as he walked right in front of my umbrella and did an almost comical double take. “Wait a minute, you’re that fatass I keep seeing around,” he said, eyes lingering on my hanging belly. “I figured you’d try to hide this fucker when you came out here,” he continued, gesturing to my gut, “but I guess that’s too big of a task for you nowadays,” he laughed, patting my belly and sending a shiver down my spine. “Well, I guess I’ll see your fat ass around the cafeteria, chubs!” he said, jiggling my belly as he moved his hand and started walking away.

I just stood there, barely comprehending what just happened. All I could think about was his strong hand on my belly, and how much tighter my speedo felt from the beginning of the trip. But my friends calling me into the water erased all those thoughts from my brain. He sure will see me in the cafeteria, I thought to myself as I got splashed by a wave. He’ll see me there, all right.

After my encounter at the beach, I felt the undeniable urge to blow up even more, which meant more time eating. And of course, I got even fatter as a result. I weighed in at 276 pounds, which was more than double my starting weight when I first started to get fat. My belly was huge, jiggling all the time and never being full. It’s spherical shape meant that no matter what I did, my belly was impossible to fully cover. My entire body had grown much softer, rounding me out. My legs and arms had no muscle mass, my thighs wobbled even if I was standing still, and my ass was fatter than ever. I loved being this big. I could barely fit in the dorm’s showers anymore, my belly and ass barely able to squeeze through the door. I had to buy even bigger clothes. Chairs couldn’t even contain my ass, my fat thighs hanging off the sides. I was huge.

However, I was beginning to encounter a few inconveniences about being as fat as I was. As the weather grew warmer I was finding myself sweating much more than I remembered. I was constantly having to squeeze myself into desks that could barely contain my size. I was constantly bumping into things with my belly. And my belly was constantly rumbling and growling, especially during lectures. Part of me was incredibly turned on by these moments, forcing me to hide my boner when they happened. But another part of me felt annoyed when they happened. But of course I never paid it any mind, my hungry belly bringing me back to earth, and to a dining hall. All part of being a fat guy.

As my first year of college drew to a close, and finals came back around, I unfortunately had to spend less time in the cafeteria and more time studying, meaning my gains were less noticeable and I was almost constantly hungry. That being said, I was still eating more than the average human was (by quite a bit). On the last day before I moved out, I weighed myself one last time. I didn’t know what to expect as I hopped onto the scale, but as I read the number that showed up on the screen, I smiled. I weighed 286 pounds. 150 pounds in just one school year. It’s almost hard to believe just how big I got, especially when I see pictures of me back from August. My slender body is completely ruined, replaced with a belly that weighs more than I did. My legs and arms are also soft and flabby, a complete change from the skinny things they used to be. Even my stance has changed; my legs have spread farther apart to accommodate my weight. It’s almost hard to believe just how fat I’d gotten, but I didn’t care. I loved my fat belly. And this was just the beginning.

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