woof

I am stupid. I’m an idiot. I’m an asshole. And my body isn’t even attractive anymore. I repeated this words over and over that first night back. The night I got kicked off the team and broke my ex-boyfriend’s leg. You know, they say, that love and hatred are almost the same feeling. And I guess they’re all right. Because deep inside, I still loved that sexy hunk, Jonathan. And that’s why I guess I’m so ashamed of the whole incident.

That night, I pigged out beyond belief. While the thanksgiving holiday certainly filled me out, that night I practically doubled the damage. The embarrassment of being forced out of the soccer team and having all my relatively thin teammates poke fun at my weight gain only further motivated this feast. I was a man on a mission. The mission being to drive away any sense of empathy for Jonathan or his mousy, pathetic boyfriend. I really tried to achieve that sense of not giving a damn about him anymore that night. As the hours rolled by, my stomach failed to ease up. Driving through one after another fast food joint, the weight of what I had done only hit me once I stared at my wallet and realized with horror that I had spent every last bit of cash I had. I started that day with over $100.

Seeing that it wasn’t enough, I drove to the nearest liquor store and bought myself 2 6-packs of beer. Even though I wasn’t 21, I ordered them with such bravado, with the pain of heartbreak in my eyes. The store clerk didn’t ask twice for an ID. When I pulled out my credit card to pay for the beers, I saw his eyes drift right to my belly, now resting on the counter, partially revealed with the slight movement of my arm. I was still wearing that tight-ass medium plaid long-sleeve I bought at Costco, but this time fully aware that it didn’t fit. After my massive stuffing however, each buttons squeaked with every movement, begging to burst off.

“Want to touch it?”

The timid young man with a mop of brown hair, a goatee, and a slightly pooching beer gut simply nodded. I reached out with my hand to grab his, and place it right on the fattest part of my gut.

“Go on, rub me.”

The clerk, who later introduced himself as Cody, really got into it then. His warm hands on my overstuffed gut felt so amazing, pressing firmly. Such pressure caused a deep belch, as my burp sent the tightest button flying.

“Oops. Guess I’m getting fat.”

“Getting, you’re already there.”

“Not until I pop all of these buttons.”

“I’ll help you”, with that he revealed a bottle opener and opened all 6 from the first pack of beers I bought.  

One by one, every last bottle was chugged down by myself. Never had I felt so full or inebriated. More so though, every last button on that stupid flannel shirt was popped open, letting my gut hang loose right over the counter. Cody didn’t stop rubbing and massaging that rounded gut until the 12th beer clattered on the counter.

“Guess I’m officially a fatass. Peace.”

As I tried leaving, I realized my balance was way off. Luckily, Cody was right there beside me.

“Where you think you’re going? You’re in no condition to drive!”

He snatched the keys from me, opened my door, and quickly called for someone else to close the store tonight. He asked me where I lived, and without invitation, came with me, right into my dorm. Late, the next morning, I woke to him making breakfast shirtless. We compared guts, but I was easily the biggest.

Cody was the piece of my life I needed to right my track. I still continued to gain weight, but at a much healthier rate, and with purpose. I apologized to Jonathan and found the courage needed to forgive myself. Soon, Cody became my boyfriend, only speeding up both of our gains. I took him to my mom’s house for Christmas in southern Illinois, allowing both of us to really pig out on all the winter goodies. My dad, also flew in from New York, pleased to learn that Cody was transforming me from the asshole I once was. By the time we came back after the break, I was officially obese at 238 pounds. Cody had become overweight with a sizeable gut on his 6’2 frame. I learned to laugh when my friends commented on how much I gained or how I’d lost my ‘good looks’. Only one guy’s opinion of my looks mattered now, and I knew he thought I was especially sexy.

                                                          ****

Those first few weeks of December went by quickly, in a rush of studying for midterms. Clearly, the stress had gone straight to my body, as everyone I was friends with criticized my now distinct belly. Obviously it wasn’t just stress that had caused me to top the scale at 188 though. Having a feeder as a boyfriend and a roommate simply led to long sessions of stuffing each other, ending with some passionate kissing or cuddling. I knew Jonathan craved a little more excitement in bed, but was very sweet in allowing us to take everything slow. I was in no rush to lose my v-card, but knew when the time came, I’d willingly give it over to Jonathan. Regardless of the nature of our relationship, it was clear at this point that my entire wardrobe was in shreds.

“Can you help me get these on?” I yelled across the room at yet another pair of jeans failed to get buttoned.

“This is getting serious, Thomas!  These are your ‘fat’ jeans!”

With a sigh, I remembered how a mere month ago, I’d bought these 34s with room to spare.

“Here, wear my old pair. They don’t fit this fatass anymore”, he said wobbling is spherical gut with a laugh. “Just roll up the cuffs and you should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, I should” as I grabbed the 36s my boyfriend used to wear casually. With a of sweat still falling down my rounded cheek, I realized these were even a little snug. Nevertheless, they did the job.

“We’d better go shopping tonight!”

The shopping experience proved eye-opening as I had to face the fact of teetering towards obesity. 38s and extra larges still fit with room to grow this winter, but were undoubtable sizes for fat guys, or at the very least taller than my modest 5’9. That night, I also called my mom and told her I was coming on the 21st for Christmas, and was going to bring my friend Jonathan. He would sleep in the guest bedroom in the basement. She sounded thrilled that I was making friends easily, but I knew the reaction would be completely different if she knew that we were much more than just friends. Jonathan was ok with this white lie, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle living it out for a week.

Luckily, (I thought) a crazy blizzard came on the night of the 20th blocking all roads in and around the city. My mom understood the situation, and we decided to arrive on Christmas eve. Those 3 days snowed in were epic, as Jonathan had prepared for the snow-pocalypse for days by shopping for fattening snacks. In a matter of 3 days, every morsel of food in the dorm was gone, as we left over a full garbage can of wrappers. I had blimped up to a positively chunky 196, with a few red markings on the lower sides of my pale, blonde gut. Jonathan was now just as round as I was, but with his extra height looked more proportional and jolly. On his request, I hadn’t shaved, so we both had beards. Taking a quick picture before departing up to Wisconsin, I realized we were both clearly bears in love.

The mood immediately shifted as we walked through my childhood house. The halls felt much smaller than I remembered, and the wood floors seemed to creak entirely more than ever as I walked steadily inside. My family was very concerned with the sheer number of pounds I had put on in a mere semester. I didn’t tell them my weight, but at this point, it was beyond obvious. Despite my fears, my parents and extended family were remarkably unassertive regarding the elephant in the room of my weight. Maybe it was because I had brought a friend even heavier than me, but only a few comments ever slipped. It was crazy though to see them gift me size large and 34 clothes on Christmas Day, and they be ridiculously small.

Despite the relative peace regarding my hometown visit, I was still unsettled by the homophobic remarks. Late Christmas evening, I decided right at dinner to confront it. My family was remarking on some politician who advocated for conversion therapy, and I just had it.

“Mom, dad, enough! I am gay and Jonathan, here is my boyfriend!”

The rest of the dinner seemed to transpire in a slow-motion montage of horror as words that couldn’t be unsaid were screamed, and insults flew across the room. Names were thrown back, sometimes going back to my weight. And tears were definitely in play, on both sides of the fight. I hadn’t even touched my food, but before I knew what had happened, Jonathan came downstairs with our suitcase and ushered me out of the home I once knew so well.

                                                         ****

December was a hard one for me. After the incident in the locker room, Jason was off the team and my leg was broken. I’d lost my soccer scholarship immediately, with the injury aiding in the justification. I knew that it was just because I was fat. But it transpired in a depression. I thought for sure my chances of returning back to this great school and my relationship with Thomas were over. But on the 2nd day at the hospital, an unexpected visitor came.

Jason visited me, giving a sincere apology. But not without telling me that his dad, after hearing about the incident, had paid all the hospital fees as well as a full semester for me after winter break. Apparently his dad was a fancy lawyer in New York, and had money to spare. Regardless, the reason, it lifted my spirits. All I had to do was score a B on all my midterms, and I was poised to pass.

Those next few weeks blurred in a haze of studying and eating. Inevitably, I was getting fat at a faster rate than ever before. My appetite was still as huge as ever, but my movements were seriously limited with this broken leg. All the feeding sessions turned into fat for both me and my boyfriend. Never before had Thomas appealed to me as much as now, in his rotund state. He permanently had a round ballgut, soft to the touch, and filled with blond hair. Additionally, we were both developing double chins as our faces rounded out. I urged him to grow out a beard to cover his as best he could. All these changes caused me to be in a horny state almost 24/7. Yet, I didn’t pressure sex or anything. Never had someone in my life meant as much to me as Thomas, and I didn’t want to lose him again. I stopped watching porn or smoking weed, and decided to even go to mass with him every Sunday. I wasn’t all that religious before anyway, but Thomas really made me want to become a better person. I was excited to go see his family back in Wisconsin.

Even after discovering they were little more than overly concerned, narrow-minded, passive-aggressive Midwesterners, I loved him more. To know he’d come out of that environment timid, but was now over 60 pounds heavier and unashamed to call me his boyfriend made me even prouder.

So that night, after being practically kicked out of the house and dumped into the snow, we shared the most intimate kiss. I decided to drive, as my cute chubby boyfriend slept in the passenger seat. Drinking coffee to get me through the overnight drive, we arrived in my hometown the next day. Thomas woke up, surprised to be in Philadelphia, but excited to see my family as I’d seen his.

I decided to be brave, just like my boyfriend. I was already out and they knew I was dating him, but I knew they still judged my weight gain and loss of the athletic scholarship. My good midterm grades weren’t enough to keep my family happy. But throughout that week spent at home, my family grew to love Thomas. His personality was so infectious that all that apprehension about staying in school melted away. As did any plans at all for slowing the gain down. Those ‘fat clothes’ we’d bought in December were tight near the end of the trip, as I knew the weight had just piled on.

On the 4th of January, we prepared to leave the comfort of my home. I remembered then the earlier part of winter break, abandoned at Thomas’s home. I decided to e-mail his mom, hoping to ease the tensions. Driving the many hours back into Chicago, I noticed on my phone that she had e-mailed back. My heart beat wildly with apprehension. Reading it though, all nerves calmed as she wrote apologizing about the fight that ensued. She just needed time to accept things, but wanted Thomas to know that he was still loved, and that if he was going to be with a guy, she was glad it was with me. I broke the news of my secret e-mail over a hefty dinner at our favorite buffet.

That night we got back to our dorm, stuffed as ever before. Assessing the damage, I stepped on the scale. 231.0 blinked back up. I was now 3 pounds obese! Thomas’s turn revealed a new weight of 208.3. He had joined my ranks into obesity. I broke the silence.

“Damn, we really got fat.”

“Nah”, he replied. “It’s just a little seasonal oversight.”

Heading down the highway, I noticed how every bump from the car caused my round paunch to jiggle up and down. This new development kept me excited as I made my way past the school into downtown Chicago. In the few days that me and Jonathan had been texting, we decided on meeting up before going back to school. Naturally, I decided on a Chinese buffet so we could see who had really been the bigger pig over break. I paid for the 9 or so dollars and sat at a booth, waiting for his cute face to walk in the door. I knew that his drive was much longer than mine, but I think he left the Philadelphia area a day early to make it in time. In the few minutes that I sat by myself, I contemplated this whole ordeal. Should I really accept Jonathan back so easily? He did cheat on me after all, and maybe I was letting it slide because he was so attractive.

Cutting into my pervasive thoughts, a familiar good-looking face appeared, now with a furry beard. No words needed to be spoken as we hugged and walked straight towards the plates. In a matter of an hour and a half, I had reached a point of complete fullness. There was literally no way I could down another spoonful without retching it all out. However, Mr soccer scholarship over there continued. Obviously his appetite was already rather impressive from all his exercise, but now that he’d let the workouts slip, he was just piling on the pounds. So, naturally I began to rub his stomach, right there in the booth, underneath the table. The sensation of how hairy and soft his belly was and how pleased his face was caused all the memories of the secret feedings I’d done early on in our relationship.

We kissed, exiting the restaurant, and I knew I’d made the right decision to forgive Jonathan. It was so much more satisfying to gain with another man, and one that could turn me on with any little thing. Although it was a little disappointing to get in our cars again, we saw each other at the dorm in a mere hour and went right back to eating and making out, enjoying the last night before classes.

                                                           ****

Seeing Thomas again and the elation on his face in just seeing me, reminded me that I needed a cheerleader like him and not someone like Jason, who was only really there because of his good looks. But never had I been more attracted to Thomas than when I saw him with that noticeable potbelly sitting down in that booth, and his blond stubble only sorta hiding his new double chin. I knew he said he only weighed 165 earlier, but I knew he was much closer to 175, which was impressive for his short stature. Although my eating led me to a 4th record plate, I still yearned to rub Thomas’ belly. And I did as we went back to the dorm in complete piggy fashion.

Going through classes that first week back, I realized I needed to focus more, especially if this gut made me say goodbye to an athletic scholarship. It didn’t take long for me to ask Thomas for help. Considering that this top-tiered school wasn’t even his top choice, said something for my boyfriend’s intelligence.  Whenever I’d ask help, he was always there to gently guide me through everything that didn’t make sense. I found that more times than not, these sessions would guide me directly to his blue eyes and the intense need to get closer and eventually kiss. Yet, with all this distraction, my grades noticeably improved. Additionally, I realized that Thomas allowed me to unlock a part of myself that I never knew was there. I became increasingly comfortable with my sexuality, even coming out to my other friends and eventually through e-mail to my parents. Surprisingly, my strict Jewish family was ok with it all, for the most part. I embraced the part of myself that was not-so-masculine and listened to music that I loved, but previously deemed too ‘girly’.

My favorite was Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten, which soon became my gaining anthem when I changed the lyric to “Release your inhibition, feel the gain on your skin”

All seemed to be going great, until a notice came up for a mandatory soccer conditioning session on December 3rd. Weighing now at 208 pounds, my size large uniform was ridiculously small. It just took a small motion for my shirt to climb up and my belly to be revealed. Mortified, yet intrigued on the reactions, I walked into the loccer room early, trying as best I could to suck it in. It still wasn’t successful as the few guys from the team I saw, gave my midsection lingering stares. Yet nothing was really awkward until my ex, Jason walked through those doors.

                                                         ****

Going back to school was so weird as my insane feasts had to end and my body adjusted to craving. Never before had I desired sugar more than I did on those few days. So naturally, I gave in, despite all common sense telling me to break out of the bad habits. I trekked a few blocks to go to the nearest Costco and buy huge packages of every junk food I could find. All of my clothes were painfully tight, so I bought a scale while I was there, as well as this cute flannel long-sleeve, sized medium obviously. Getting home, I found myself out of breath, but immediately dug into a bag of chips and then cookies when I was finished.

I saw the shirt still in the bag the next day, and figured I’d ought to wear it out. Although all of my friends stared at me a bit differently, I didn’t understand why until one of them pointed it out.

“Jason, dude, you’re not wearing a shirt underneath that flannel.”

“Well duh, who wears shirts underneath other shirts”

“People who don’t want to show skin”

“What are you even talking about?”                                                                                  

With a mere poke, my friend stuck his finger through the button holes, which clearly caused an opening due to the tightness.

“That’s weird. I just bought this shirt. I always wear medium.”

“Maybe you should go up to a large”

Not taking it much into consideration, I just figured the sizing was a bit weird, despite the fact that all my clothes begged to be burst out of. I saw the group chat for soccer conditioning and was reminded that I’d see my new nemesis, Jonathan. I’d make sure to make fun of his 200 pound body for sure! And just so that everyone’s eyes were still on my sexy frame, I made sure to wear my jock, instead of my usual boxer briefs.

I immediately noticed all the eyes on me as I walked into the locker room. It took me awhile to get accustomed, as the room had clearly not been cleaned over break, and stank the most I’d ever remembered- probably from the long soccer socks no one had washed out. Once I noticed the familiar faces, it seemed to me that thanksgiving had done everyone good, as almost every player had gained weight. Still with a relatively athletic build, most of my teammates jawlines were less chiseled, and were sporting slight pooches. But none of it was as noticeable as my ex’s.

“Oh, Jonathan! Nice to see you again. Except it looks like you’ve gotten stung by a bee or something. Very swollen there”

Clearly, Jonathan would not have this, and swung out his meaty arm at my face, surprising me with his strength. This caused the rest of the team to encircle around my new dispute. Needing to settle my alpha male status, I ripped off those tight soccer shorts, letting my jock free to the room, and revealing my hairy round ass. I gave him another insult.

“Guess you got kinda chubby and out-of-shape! Wouldn’t be surprised if you got cut from the team, fatass”

“Guess the kettle is calling the pot black!” He responded as he took off my shirt with a swift movement.

Naturally, I jabbed at him, and his fell of as well. And it seemed all the side conversations halted immediately, as I heard audible gasps.

“You’re still a fatter fuck”

“But your abs are long gone, Jason. You got nothing but a shitty personality to depend on now.”

With that last jab, all the memories I tried so hard to forget about our relationship flooded all my thoughts and pure rage came out. With a speed I didn’t know I had, I rammed right onto his meaty, hairy body and pushed him noticeably out, beyond the circle of teammates and into the wall of lockers. It seemed so sudden as blood fountained out from somewhere and two strong arms grabbed me and into the coach’s room. It didn’t take a genius to realize that I was off the team for permanent and could face further punishment for the fight. Not hearing the conversation completely, I heard ‘doctor’ ‘ok’ ‘out-of-shape’, before a final yell of “Get out, you, fat fuck!”

That stern comment from my mom set the tone for the rest of my 5 day visit up north. Whenever, I’d walk around, I’d always get a comment from one family member or the other about my weight. Most of it was rather tame “You’ve filled out” or “Starting to look like a real man, Thomas”, but it still made me blush and grin awkwardly at all of the reactions. Especially considering that I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to gain again. But really exercising was way too much work. I wasn’t even bothered to help out with shoveling the 6 inches of snow that fell on Wednesday.

Rather instead, I slept in. And continued to eat as if there was no tomorrow, fully enjoying the holiday spirit and jolliness. Not to mention that it was so fucking cold and dreary here. It really felt good to have a paunch to keep me from freezing to death. On Wednesday, I hung around the kitchen almost all day, never really helping out with the feast the next day, but rather snacking on all the baked goods, and getting a preview of all the dishes. I must’ve eaten a dozen cookies, before my aunt noticed how I wasn’t really helping.

“Thomas, you can’t just stay here and be a pig!”

Awkwardly, I finished the spice cookie I was currently munching on, and                 asked timidly, “Do you want some help?”

When I only received silence, I figured I best head upstairs for a nap. All that eating got me tired anyway. It was only when my aunt thought that I was out of earshot that I overheard her telling my mom how she should do something about my weight, and how she was concerned that I was eating out of stress, and that I was having a terrible college experience. Which I guess wasn’t completely untrue.

But that exchange did spike my interest, so I went directly up to the bathroom to inspect the damage. And I guess in my few days, I hadn’t looked in a mirror. I was looking positively chunky. And the size small red sweater I was wearing now wasn’t doing any favors. Stepping on the scale, my dick sprang right up, when I read 165.4. Forget the big reveal of 160, I had already gained 30 pounds in only 3 months of college. And from every single angle, it showed. I lifted my arms and noticed how the sweater rose up to my belly button, setting there, revealing my blond happy trail and bloated, round underside.

After napping, I decided to meet up with my old high school friend, Brooke, who wanted to host a drinksgiving with our old high school buds. Making my way to her house, I realized everyone would probably notice my bulging round gut. And I wasn’t mistaken. All of my old friends wanted to pat, smack, and rub my new belly. Everyone was astounded that I had already gained 2 freshman fifteens in the short time. But evidently, that wasn’t why we were there. And Brooke was able to hold a raging get-together with the 5 of us in the basement and a bottle of vodka and several cans of beer.

My friends Mary and Caitlin had to leave around midnight, so I was just left with Brooke and her new college boyfriend, Blake. He was kinda a douche, but at the time that it was just us 3, I was too drunk to care. On some dumb bet, we ended up making out, and I only vaguely remember it being drunk and sloppy and Brooke finding it so hot. Eventually it was just them 2 on the couch and I decided it was too late to drive back drunk, so I decided to make it my mission to finish all the alcohol. By 4 am, I had downed the remaining third of the bottle and drunk the last 6 cans, and was feeling extremely inebriated, yet bloated. I don’t think I ever felt as fat as I did at that moment, laying on the carpet, with my gut sticking way up in the air. Miraculously, I never ended up puking any of those calories.

I arrived home the next day around 1 pm, with bloodshot eyes and my gut nearly hanging out of my too-tight red sweater. Luckily, I entered through the back door and took a shower to take away some of the hangover. I weighed 166.5 and was a little disappointed that last night only resulted in a pound, but figured I’d put more away tonight. Nevertheless, the size 32 khakis I planned on wearing caused me to suck in to button them up: a new development since last week.

Thanksgiving dinner was everything I was hoping it’d be with a wide array of turkey and gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, rolls, stuffing, and a dozen more side dishes. I heaped my plate full of a little of everything, as did everyone the first go round, but managed to eat it quicker than anyone else. So, naturally, I filled it up with generous servings again, yet tried making my gluttony as subtle as possible. However, my button on my pants continued to creak quietly with every mouthful I shoved in, and my tan turtleneck was getting extremely tight and making me hot. By the time that I finished my 2nd plate, most people were finishing up their 1st and gathering seconds, so I thought maybe it would go unnoticed that I was getting a 3rd heaping plateful. But instead, my grandpa asked rather loudly “Are you sure you want to get thirds, Thomas? You’re getting kinda tubby.”

I right about wanted to hide away, but instead managed a cheeky smile and anwered “Really?”. Everyone at the table didn’t find it amusing, and genuinely thought I hadn’t noticed my weight gain. I continued shoving in more and more food, ignoring the stares, until the creaky button popped right off and fell on the floor near my chair. I immediately went down to grab it, and realized with horror that as I bent down, my khakis split open in a crack in the back. Nevertheless, I finished my plate, and forced down a fourth plate of food, as most adults left downstairs to watch the football game. Making sure no one was around, I exited to my room to assess the damage. My normally soft belly was hard to the touch and pushed out very far. The khakis were quite ruined, and looked way too tight to begin with. I weighed 168.8 and realized I wanted to see 170 before the night was over.

I changed into my medium sweatpants, which were even tight, but just not painfully so, and went downstairs for dessert. I pigged out on all 6 cakes, pies, and brownies once over, before going to the basement with everyone else with my ‘1st plate’ of dessert all moderate servings. Clearly, I didn’t want to attract any more weight-related attention. When I crawled back upstairs, heavier than I’ve ever been before, I saw 170.1 and was pleased.

The rest of the weekend was filled of me eating the thanksgiving leftovers, and forgoing any black Friday activities for sleeping in. I was truly getting to be the lazy hog I wanted to be, and loved every second of it. Thinking about the sub-par college cafeteria food and all the exercise walking around campus really saddened me about the departure. I was sure to weigh in the morning before I left, and was very content with the 172.3 and the 12 or so pounds that I had gained in the 5 days of complete gluttony.

                                                         ****

Sucking in my new heft around my family members was proving a difficult task. And I still felt the narrowing eyes from a few people who probably still thought I’d picked up a few pounds. At 195 pounds, I was already overweight for my 6’1 frame, and even though a lot of my frame was lean muscle mass, it was undeniable I now had a gut. Nevertheless, I continued snacking heavily while at home, and doing minimal exercise at all. In fact, I found out that my younger brother, who was a senior in high school, after finishing up all his college apps, had turned to weed and video games to pass the time. I wasn’t going to call him a druggie or anything, but it was very clear that he used everyday.

So naturally being a good big bro, I joined in on the fun. Hours filled my day mindlessly as I puffed another joint outside before coming back inside to challenge him again in Call of Duty. I don’t even think I realized how much time I wasted until it was deep in the early morning of Thanksgiving. My eyes, bloodshot and red, I downed a beer quickly, and made good headway in the game. My brother was already passed out, and I soon realized it was significantly less fun playing on my own. So, being high and a little intoxicated, I texted 2 people.

Hey, Jason. Just wanted you to know that this isn’t working out. You can tell everyone that I like guys if you want to. I’m over it now. Plus, I’ve gained all the weight I lost plus some. You don’t want me.

I miss you, Thomas. You were my everything. I am SOOO Sorry about me and kissing Jason. Biggest mistake. I want to win you back. And I know it’s not really anything, but I’m 200 pounds now.

The last part was a little bit of stretching the truth, I thought. But just to make sure, I stepped on the scale. The green light shined back with a 199.9. I really didn’t stretch the truth far.  While assessing my new thick body in the bathroom mirror, I felt a vibration in my pocket, and reached out, surprised to see Thomas message me so late.

I want you back too. Also I’m 165. We could be fat together if you wanted.

I DEFINITELY WANT THAT.

Although, I didn’t see a reply message that night, I felt more excited than ever going to sleep. Waking up the next day, I was shocked to see a significant mound of pudge on my lower belly, before remembering all the steps that had took place for that to happen. I hadn’t gone into overweight territory overnight, but it almost seemed like that to me. I changed into a size medium sweatshirt that fit rather snug and some 34s that used to be really loose on me. It still kinda freaked me out that they were now skin-tight. I sent a few lovey-dovey texts back to Thomas even though it was half past 1 in the afternoon. But while on my phone, noticed that Jason had texted me.

I still want you!!! But seriously get a grip on your weight and on your life!

Not knowing how to reply to that, I just ignored it, realizing that since it wasn’t going to work out with him, he needed to get over me soon. I headed downstairs, giving my mom a hug, and grabbing the plate of French toast she reserved for me. I went to the basement to say hi to my brother, but quickly got sucked into the new game he was playing, and before I knew it had gotten high and eaten a whole family sized bag of chips. My brother joked that I was going to get fat, but I thought I saw him peer down at my belly while saying it. After I won once (never happened before, since I didn’t play video games) I cheered, and noticed that my sweatshirt had ridden up exposing just how soft and hairy my lower gut was. Unfortunately, my brother did also.

“Bro, you really are getting fat! Better watch it tonight!”

But obviously I didn’t heed his warning and pigged out in every sense of the word. Although, my family was pretty conservative when it came to thanksgiving compared to most other families, we still had quite the spread of fattening goodies. And even from the perspective of the former athlete, I stuffed myself. It didn’t come completely without a price though. Besides the aching pain in my entire abdomen, I received a few biting jabs from family members about how I didn’t want to lose my soccer scholarship or didn’t want to look like Mordecai (a fat, bearded man at my synagogue). Additionally, I had to undo the button on my jeans, which became quite obvious when I stood up and that stupid sweatshirt didn’t cover the open button. I truly looked fat. Before heading out Saturday morning on the long drive back to northern Illinois, I stepped on the scale, excited to see 203.1 staring back at me.

                                                        ****

When I saw that text Thursday morning from Jonathan, I was more than enraged. Although, I might not have shown it particularly well, I was really falling for that stud. Yeah, maybe I should release that vid, blackmail him, but at the same time, I would only do it if it hurt him, and his text made it seem like he didn’t care if everyone knew. It would only make me look worse.

Before I knew what was happening, I drove to the store in town, and bought 2 boxes of 12 little Debbie brownies, opening them, before I even got back to the car. In such heated gluttony, I shredded through the box, shoving brownie after brownie into my body, as tear after tear slid down my face. In the parking lot, in a matter of 15 minutes, both boxes were empty, and my belly was looking quite round. Additionally, my face was caked with sugar, and I felt a little exhilarated. Still, it wasn’t enough to ease the pain of such a heart break. I sent a text, then waited. And waited.

And to calm my nerves, I decided to really go all out. I went to all fast food joints in my southern Illinois town (which there were a lot). I ordered a milkshake and another dessert at each one, and then 3 big macs at McDonalds as well, since you really can’t just eat sugar. The burgers went in rather easy, as I still craved meat. But each pastry became a huge burden to my already packed gut. The milkshakes helped keep everything down, but it was still quite the task to chug them down, as there were 8 large ones. But at around 4 pm, I hobbled my way up the steps of my home, throwing out all the garbage, and plopping down on my bed for a long nap. Luckily no one saw my completely engorged state, or ever knew of the tens of thousands of calories I had eaten, driven by my inner pain.

I vaguely remember hearing a knock at the door, and someone entering my room a half hour later, but no one ever woke me up, so I guess my post-feeding slumber was heavy enough that they weren’t going to wake me up to go to thanksgiving dinner. Waking up at 8, I felt an insatiable hunger as all the sadness of the break-up with Jonathan rushed back. Despite the fact that I had already eaten for 5 days just earlier today, I wanted thanksgiving dinner. The dinner ordeal itself had already passed, but my mom had made a moderate-sized plate heaped with all the goodies for when I woke up. Back when I was constantly on a diet, I would’ve been offended by how much fat and calories she heaped on there, but today I was a different man. And the piggish man I was today, this plate was not nearly enough.

In mere minutes the plate was licked clean, and I was going through the fridge, raiding all the leftovers. Even in my extremely quick rate of eating, I continued gorging myself for almost 2 hours, only ending when I thought I heard someone come down the stairs. It was just my older brother, who was already over 250 pounds, despite being 2 years older than me. He muttered that he just wanted a midnight snack, so naturally I left him with the leftovers.

The rest of the weekend fashioned in a similar way, with me hitting up, most if not all of the fast food joints in my area, eating much more than I ever thought possible, mostly out of despair. Whenever I wasn’t stuffing my face, I was at home sleeping or obsessively checking my reflection in the mirror, cleansing away any possible acne. The last thing I wanted to happen was for all the unhealthy eating come back to harm my good looks.