Guys i like

"I’m telling you," Leo said, leaning back on his elbows, his jersey straining slightly against his chest. "If I have to sit through one more lecture on sports medicine, I’m going to lose it. I need a break."

Sam cracked open a tin, taking a long sip. "You guys have it easy. I’ve been stuck in the lab for ten hours. My only exercise is walking to the vending machine."

Jack laughed, tossing a blade of grass at Sam. "We noticed, man. You’ve been living off those ramen cups and energy drinks. You’re looking... comfortable."

Sam looked down at his AC/DC shirt. It felt a little tighter than it did freshman year, but he brushed it off. "It’s just layers, Jack. Efficient insulation for the library."

A week later, the heat became unbearable, driving the trio to the campus pool. As they stripped down to their swim trunks, the casual comments from the park suddenly felt a lot more visible.

Leo and Jack were still solid, though the off-season had clearly softened their edges. But as Sam pulled his shirt over his head, a soft, pale midsection spilled over the waistband of his trunks. The lean, lanky frame he’d had in high school was being replaced by a definite, rounded softness.

"Whoa, Sammy!" Jack barked, splashing into the water and pointing. "Looks like the 'insulation' is official. You’ve got a bit of a spare tire going there, buddy."

Sam patted his stomach, which felt strangely heavy and doughy. "Shut up," he muttered, though he couldn't help but grin. "It’s a work in progress."

Leo swam over to the edge, looking Sam up and down with a smirk. "Don't sweat it. Honestly? It suits you. You were way too bony before. You're finally filling out like a grown man." He reached up and gave Sam’s new belly a playful, heavy pat. "Keep it up, and you’ll be out-massing us by finals."

Post-swim hunger hit them like a freight train, and they soon found themselves squeezed into a corner booth at McDonald's. Sam sat down with a modest cheeseburger, but Leo returned from the counter with a heavy tray, sliding two extra Double Quarter Pounders directly in front of him.

"Wait, I didn't order these," Sam said, eyeing the mountain of beef.

"My treat," Leo said, leaning back with a smirk. He pulled out a single, tiny cheeseburger for himself—the smallest thing on the menu. "You’ve been looking a bit thin lately, Sammy. It’s time you filled out that AC/DC shirt properly."

Jack, whose stomach let out a loud, hollow growl, stared at the extra burgers with pure envy. "Man, I’m starving. If he’s not gonna eat those, I’ll demolish them in five minutes."

Leo slapped Jack’s hand away playfully. "Back off, Jack. These are for Sam. I want to see if he can actually handle a real meal for once."

Jack groaned, forced to pick at his fries while Sam looked at the burgers and then at Leo’s expectant face. Feeling a strange sense of challenge, Sam picked up the first heavy burger. As he took a massive bite, the hem of his shirt rode up slightly over his soft, new middle. Leo nodded approvingly, watching with satisfaction as their "normal" friend finally started to outgrow his own clothes.

The gym was humid, filled with the rhythmic clanking of weights. Leo, his brown mullet damp with sweat, was halfway through a set of casual bench presses while Jack stood behind him, acting as a half-hearted spotter.

"Man," Jack said, glancing toward the locker rooms. "Did you see Sam when he left the apartment today? That AC/DC shirt is basically a second skin at this point. I thought the lightning bolt was going to snap in half."

Leo locked the bar out and sat up, a quirky, lopsided grin on his face. He wiped his forehead and patted his own midsection, which was looking much more solid and rounded than it had at the start of the semester. "I saw it. It’s hilarious. He’s like a human sourdough starter—just slowly expanding to fill whatever room he’s in."

Jack let out a short, nervous laugh, adjusting his grip on his protein shaker. "I mean, it’s funny, yeah. But are we being too mean about it? I feel like every time we talk to him now, we’re just making some crack about his 'new curves.' He’s actually getting pretty doughy."

"Relax, Jack," Leo said, hopping off the bench with a shrug. "It’s all in good fun. Besides, it’s not like we’re forcing him to eat. The guy just discovered he likes fries more than he likes the treadmill. Can you blame him? Life’s better when you’re not hungry all the time."

Jack looked at his own reflection, noticing how his gym shorts were sitting a bit lower beneath his waist than they used to. "I guess. I just don't want him to think we're actually picking on him. He looked so confused at McDonald's when you gave him those extra burgers."

"He wasn't confused, he was hungry," Leo teased, giving Jack a playful poke in his softening ribs. "He’s just finding his rhythm. We’re all just getting a little more... 'premium' this year. If he’s the leader of the pack, I’m fine with it. It makes us look fit by comparison."

Jack shook his head, finally cracking a real smile. "You're a jerk, Leo. But you're right—as long as he's laughing too, I guess it’s just the new normal."

The air in the campus pub was thick with the smell of hops and fried appetizers. Sam and Jack were tucked into a back booth, a large pitcher of beer between them. Sam’s AC/DC shirt was under serious pressure; every time he leaned back, the fabric pulled tight across his round, soft stomach, which now rested comfortably against the edge of the wooden table.

Jack, however, was barely touching his drink. He kept glancing at Sam, his brow furrowed. "He won't shut up about it, Sam," Jack muttered, picking at a stray fry.

"Shut up about what?" Sam asked, reaching for a mozzarella stick.

"You! Your 'new look,' your 'insulation,' the way you're 'filling out.' Leo’s obsessed," Jack said, his voice tinged with a bit of genuine envy. "He spends half our gym sessions just joking about how you're out-massing us. I’m the athlete, man! I’m supposed to be the big one in the group, but it’s like I’ve become invisible since you started... you know... softening up."

Sam paused, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. He patted his belly, feeling the heavy, doughy weight of it. "Wait. Are you jealous that Leo is making fun of my gut instead of yours?"

Jack huffed, crossing his arms. "It’s not just the jokes. It’s the attention. He’s all quirky and hyped up whenever you’re around, like he’s proud of what’s happening to you. Meanwhile, I’m over here sweating at the gym just to stay 'fit' while you’re getting all the credit for being the comfortable one."

Sam chuckled, the movement causing his midsection to jiggle slightly over his belt. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, if you want in on the 'attention,' I have an idea. If Leo thinks it's so funny that I’m getting chubbier, let’s see how he reacts when it’s both of us."

Jack blinked. "Both of us?"

"Yeah. We’re at a pub, Jack. They have the best loaded nachos in the city," Sam said, gesturing toward the menu. "We sit here, we stuff ourselves together, and we show up to the apartment looking absolutely wrecked. Let’s see if Leo’s still just 'making fun' when his two best friends are both bursting out of their clothes. We’ll find out pretty quick if he’s actually into it or just being a jerk."

Jack looked at the menu, then at Sam’s soft, happy expression, and finally felt his own hunger winning out. "You think it'll work?"

"Only one way to find out," Sam said, waving over the server. "Two orders of the 'Ultimate Mountain Nachos' and another pitcher. We’re going for the gold tonight, Jack."

Jack finally laughed, the hesitation fading as he leaned back. "Fine. But if I can’t fit into my lacrosse jersey tomorrow, you’re explaining it to the coach."

The walk back to the apartment was a slow, heavy trek. The "Mountain Nachos" had been a solid start, but as they crossed the threshold, Sam and Jack realized they weren’t just full—they were on a mission.

"The nachos were just the warm-up," Sam panted, leaning against the kitchen counter. His AC/DC shirt was riding high, exposing a sliver of his soft, rounded belly that seemed to have expanded significantly in just the last hour.

Jack nodded, his long blonde hair stuck to his forehead. The envy he’d felt at the pub had morphed into a competitive hunger. "If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I’m tired of Leo being the only one with a 'quirky' opinion on our waistlines."

They moved through the kitchen like a two-man wrecking crew. Sam pulled a stack of frozen pizzas from the freezer while Jack raided the pantry, emerging with family-sized bags of pretzels and a jar of peanut butter.

"Leo’s gonna be back from his late shift in an hour," Sam said, sliding two pizzas into the oven. "If we time this right, he’s going to walk in on the two of us looking like we’ve been swallowed by the sofa."

For the next forty-five minutes, the apartment was filled with the sound of crunching and the smell of melting cheese. They didn't just eat; they leaned into the discomfort. Jack, usually the one worried about his athletic "lines," was now three slices deep into a pepperoni pizza, his own shirt starting to pull taut across his midsection in a way he hadn't experienced since he was a kid.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked, reaching for the pretzels. He was lounging back in his chair, his stomach resting heavily in his lap, looking blissfully stuffed.

"Heavy," Jack admitted, taking a long, slow breath that made his waistband dig in. "But honestly? It’s kind of a relief to stop caring about the gym for a night. My stomach feels... huge."

"Good," Sam chuckled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Because we aren't stopping until the boxes are empty. We need to make sure that when Leo sees us, he knows the 'normal guy' isn't the only one getting soft around here."

By the time they heard Leo’s key in the lock, the coffee table was a graveyard of crumbs and empty crusts. Sam and Jack were sprawled out on the sectional, looking absolutely defeated by their own appetites, waiting to see exactly what their friend would have to say about the new, doubled-down "bulk" of the household.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Leo walked in, tossing his gym bag to the floor, still wearing his track jacket. He took one step into the living room and froze, his eyes scanning the scene.

The coffee table was a disaster zone of grease-stained pizza boxes and empty pretzel bags. But the real sight was on the couch. Sam was sprawled out, his AC/DC shirt pulled so tight that the fabric was turning translucent over his rounded middle. Next to him, Jack looked equally wrecked; his athletic frame was buried under a newfound softness, his breath coming in slow, heavy hitches as he tried to find a comfortable position for his stuffed stomach.

"Whoa," Leo said, a slow, quirky grin spreading across his face. He walked over, hands on his hips, looking like a scientist discovering a new species. "Did a food truck explode in here, or did you guys finally decide to stop fighting the inevitable?"

Jack looked up, his face slightly flushed. "We decided... the nachos weren't enough," he panted, patting his own distended midsection. "Sam said you liked the 'soft look' so much, I figured I’d give it a try."

Leo let out a bark of laughter. He walked over to the sectional and poked a finger into Jack’s softening side, then did the same to Sam’s belly. "Double trouble. I leave for three hours, and my two best friends turn into a pair of beanbags."

"So?" Sam challenged, his voice muffled by a yawn as his stomach rose and fell. "Is it still funny, or is it getting a bit crowded in here for you?"

Leo didn't look annoyed at all. In fact, he looked delighted. He kicked off his shoes and flopped down into the single armchair across from them, his own belly settling comfortably against his belt. "Crowded? Guys, this is fantastic. I was getting worried I’d be the only one with a 'premium' physique by the time summer hit."

He reached into a nearly empty bag of pretzels on the table, pulled out a stray one, and tossed it at Jack. "I think you’ve still got a ways to go if you want to catch up to Sam, though, Jack. He’s practically a professional at this point."

"Oh, he's catching up," Sam chuckled, glancing at Jack’s strained shirt. "Trust me. We’re just getting started."

Leo leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a look of pure satisfaction. "Good. Because I was thinking of ordering Chinese for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll need you two in peak form."