Bayroot Academy Part 2

A week later I wake up and look at my alarm clock, and shit I’ve overslept by 30 minutes. I go over and shake Cameron awake, his belly looks bigger than it did last Friday and jiggles more than I last remember.

“Hey we have to leave right now man; we overslept big time.” His electric blue eyes flutter open and grow wide.

“Shit, fuck, okay. I’m up. But I think we have a problem. Larry and I ripped through all of the pants last night before he left,” he says, looking embarrassed.

After we got our pizza button, Larry had gotten into the habit of either coming over and having eating contests with Cameron or hitting the gym with our group every night. And quarterback Ross and I started a “workout” group with soccer Larry, roommate Cam, and health-nut Bernie. We figured out the gym’s more fun with more people and more bellies to rub.

“Oh my god, why would you rip them?” I ask with a genuine curiosity.

“We wanted to see if we could. I mean we’re not exactly skinny anymore…” he replies and slaps his modest belly. He must be about 145lbs now, but considering he used to be 120 it’s a very noticeable change. “But don’t worry bro, we saved you a pair.”

“Wait you two ripped through my pants too? Seriously Cameron, have some self-control!” I’m not really angry at him; I actually think a lot of this is kind of hot. But I can’t have him suspicious, so I have to put on this act.

“Fuck it I’m just going to go in my underwear,” Cameron informs me, “what’s the worst they could do?” He gets up and I get a good look at his unbloated body. Most of the weight he’s gained has gone to his belly and I have a feeling that Larry ripped a lot more pants than Cameron did. Larry’s got meaty soccer legs and a bubble butt, and his extra blubber only accents those attributes. While his belly has widened a bit, it’s nothing compared to Cameron’s monster. All of his fat has gone to his tummy and chest, making his limbs look way out of proportion. I already know before he tries to button up his shirt that he’s going to have some difficulty. He knows too and doesn’t even bother with the middle 3 buttons. While he’s doing that, I realize that my pants are not going to button, and neither will the bottom of my shirt. I guess the world gets to see my happy trail today. Cameron bends over to tie his shoes and his bottom shirt button flies off. He looks at me to see if I noticed and I pretend like I didn’t by walking over to the pizza button. I know he must be as starving as I am so order us an extra-large meat lover’s for our walk to class. We both finish getting ready and hightail it, barely finishing the pizza before we walk in to the last few minutes of the period.

Apparently last night the classroom got a remodeling, similar to the one our room got last week, but much more extensive. I see along the back wall several different food slots, some that could be for burgers, candy, tacos, fried chicken buckets, or bowls of amazing food. Along with a Soda fountain there’s also 3 different flavors of milkshakes, an array of slushies, and even a station for liquid ice cream toppings. There are three large refrigerators resting on the adjacent wall that houses the desserts like ice cream, cake, cookie dough, and the likes. All of it’s perfect for the first game day of the short season, and everyone is definitely feeling football in the air. There aren’t any more desks in the classroom, but comfy looking chairs dispersed around the room have taken their place. Everyone in the class is next to some food dispensers or other and are casually devouring some sort of food. I notice that all the boys’ bodies have taken some sort of toll on their uniform, and I’m instantly relieved that Cameron and I aren’t the only ones showing our overindulgence. The food channel is playing on the TV in the high corner of the room, but no one’s paying attention it. They’re all just laying around, eating, and talking.

Cameron runs (not literally) off to go help his cute gamer friend Taylor funnel down enough chocolate milkshake to burst the last button on his shirt, and I go up to Mr. Cox to ask if I need to get any assignment for class. I think I already know the answer, but I head over to him anyways. He’s at the french fry dispenser by his desk, filling a rather large plastic bucket with them. From behind, the only really noticeable changes about him take place with his ass, which has grown a lot from the tight muscular thing it used to be, and his love handles. His globous butt has ripped the seat of his pants and his grey briefs are showing, looking like they can barely contain his fat, jiggly ass. His dress shirt has also ridden up over his chubby sides. He looks so soft and I just want to bump my belly against his round ass. It’s clear that he’s been growing too, but I self-consciously pull down my shirt to cover as much belly as possible. That only makes the buttons get tighter, but I figure it’s better than the ridden up mess it was before.

“Um, Mr. Cox,” I say and he turns around. His mouth is full of fries and his chubbier cheeks spread into an embarrassed grin. His new gut, significantly bigger than it was when I last saw him, hasn’t actually popped any buttons. But his shirt has ripped a few inches off to the side from the straining buttons, and his fat olive-skinned belly is pouring out of the tears. I just want to touch it so bad but I know I can’t. I quickly glance down to see if his pants are buttoned but his gut’s covering his waist and I can’t get a good look.

He notices me looking him up and down, gulps down a mouthful of fries, and says, “Yes Connor, can I help you with anything?” to get me to stop staring at his ruined figure.

“Sorry for being late. I just wanted to see if there’s any assignment we needed to get,” I try not to let myself drool while talking. I don’t think he’s noticing though because he can’t keep his eyes off that bucket of fries. I really wish he’d look at me that way; I pull down my shirt again before he continues.

“Oh, well, I talked about this briefly at the beginning of class: Dean Snow sent out a memo this morning telling us about our new grading syllabus. Now, instead of taking tests and doing worksheets, you’re more graded on showing up to class.” Mr. Cox can’t stand it anymore and starts placing fries into his mouth while speaking. Little bits of potato splatter out, “George pointed out to Dean Snow, that, (swallow, handful of fries goes in) students should be trusted to do their work, so now you’re graded on attendance (swallow). Today we had a ‘discussion’, so you can just go check out the new gadgets in the back for the remainder of the period if you’d like.”

I thank Mr. Cox for the info as he heads back to the fry machine, and I go help Taylor pop that last button off his shirt.

All day the buzz of football has been going around, and it’s finally time for the big game to begin. Everyone is excited for those Friday night lights. All of our non-football playing squad is up here in the stands: Larry, Cameron, Bernie and I. We’re all going shirtless tonight like the majority of the school, but the four of us painted each other’s bellies and chubby backs in yellow and white paint (our school colors). It’s very obvious that Bernie’s the biggest of any of us, including Ross. He used to eat so healthily but I guess his metabolism got wrecked when Feeding America’s Teens showed up. His lean muscles are a thing of the past, except his chest and arms still show a shadow of what once was. Although the little bit of muscle only slightly perks up his moobs and makes his arms slightly resemble overstuffed sausages. He used to have the hottest V line, but that’s been replaced with a big, jiggly, basketball right where the V used to be. He’s the only one of us with an overhang so far, and Cameron’s kind of jealous because Bernie can keep his phone in his fat rolls when he’s not using it.

“Hey are your shorts tight at all?” Larry asks us, wind blowing through his hair. There’s a decent breeze in the stands tonight that’s keeping us all from sweating off our body paint.

“Yeah, but not nearly as tight as yours! Mine still hold in my ass, bro.” I say and we all laugh at Larry a little because his athletic shorts will literally not go up past his fat ass. His underwear is even having trouble containing his enormous butt.

“Fuck you, my gut’s been getting most of the weight recently and you know it, pendejo. Leave my ass alone, it’s perfect the way it is…”Larry retorts and stands ups. He tries pulling his skin tight shorts up with a small jump, but ends up leaving his belly quivering. More laughing follow.

Bayroot’s football team runs, no, walks onto the field and the crowd goes wild. None of the player’s uniforms fit. At all. But we expected that. The band and spirit leaders didn’t even attempt to wear theirs. You can instantly tell that the other team is appalled with how fat our team is, but you can also tell they’re a little intimidated by the size. Maybe Coach Simmons’ plan of pushing their team back with our team’s girth will work out after all.  George is on the turf taking up the seat of a golf cart, wearing a ref shirt and looking ready to throw some flags. Our team waddles into their positions, unable to walk correctly in their tight spandex. You can easily see all of the team’s belly buttons sticking out of their jerseys that hug their curvy sides so well. The bigger guys on the team, mainly linemen, have definitely been getting their fill of food. Ross looks so skinny compared to them, and he’s anything but. I’m glad I came to see him tonight, even if I’m just watching. Him and I been getting a lot closer since our first night at the gym together.

They get ready to hike the ball, but most of the team can’t bend over. They’re all struggling, but their pants just won’t let them. Coach Simmons sees the problem and calls a time out. He’s wearing his coaching hoodie that should’ve been retired 30lbs ago, but his goatee looks really good on his chubby double chin. He’s screaming really loudly and seems really mad, like how he yells at our history class when he hasn’t eaten for over an hour. But now he’s taking large bites of corn dogs between his shouts; there’s a huge amount of fried weenies on the sidelines ready for the team to eat during the game. Coach Simmons notices that the bigger guys on the team’s shorts have ripped and that those porkers aren’t having any problems bending over so he yells at the rest of the team to bust their seams. Most of the team explodes into a spree of twists and pushes, trying to relieve the pressure of that spandex.

“Well that’s one way to do it.” Cam says to us, his arms outstretched on the back of the bleacher and his gut protruding proudly.

By the time the time-out is over most of the team has succeeded in their mission and are back on the field. I notice the spirit leaders and band kids have already given up on their duties and have traded in pomp oms and trombones for burritos and nuggets. The gorging never stops at Bayroot.

“I’m feelin’ kind of hungry,” Bernie says, “Anyone wanna raid the concession stand with me?”

“Hell fucking yeah! I need something to make this more bearable, I’m thinking donuts,” Cameron answers. He’s not too used to being outside in his free time.

Larry and I end up joining them because the team keeps getting knocked on their fat asses by the other side. We get our donuts and go back to our seats, quickly devouring the two boxes we bought. It’s only the second quarter but it’s clear we’re not winning anything tonight. The score is already 35-0; no one on our team can run at all. The school’s spirits have gone down and frankly it’s getting boring. And I’m getting hungrier. We decide to skimp out on the game and go work out. The idea was Bernie’s but we all quickly jumped on his suggestion, food is just too big a part of our lives now to not have it for so long. Even if it means leaving Ross’ game.

We get to the gym and our bodies glow neon green from the mixture of blue light and yellow body paint. The place is pretty much empty, but slowly other guys start trickling in having similar ideas to ours. Instantly heading to the back, I’m glad to see tonight’s special is steak and potatoes. Larry already found us a couch that’ll fit us and we all squeeze in and chow down. My left love handle is touching Bernie’s and my right Cam’s. Our fat rubbing together starts to rub off the paint, and it starts to chip even more as we eat. I’ve working on my third steak and I notice Cameron’s bloated belly is chipping everywhere.

“Dude this stuff is so itchy,” I say, “Do you want me to help you get it off?”

“Hell yes Conner, and make sure to rub that big boy while you’re at it, I really need to let loose tonight!” He answers. I set down my plate and start rubbing Cam’s gut. It’s so big and bulbous, and with every touch it jiggles. His pubic fat is sticking out of his underwear a little bit and I brush little white flakes off the hair and the bloated boy squirms a little but doesn’t say anything. His squishy body is a huge contrast from the raging hard-on he’s been sporting. I move my hands up as to not let things get awkward, but all of a sudden,

“SHIiiiIIIiT, that’s the stuff!” He burps out in response to me pushing into the top of his bloated mass, right where all the food is. I spend some time on that spot before I start craving again and we swap places. My plate’s been replaced with another full one and I get to work. Cam’s nimble fingers know how to knead my belly perfectly. I feel so soft and squishy, and honestly I love it. He digs deep into the top of my belly and I can really feel the food settling in there, slowly feeling like I can eat more. I get snapped out of bliss when I run out of food. I look over at Bernie and Larry to my left and apparently they’ve been doing the same thing as us. I’m getting sleepy and my plate’s just been replaced. As I’m dozing off I let spoonfuls of buttery potatoes slide down my throat.

I wake up with my head on Bernie’s gut. It’s rising up and down rhythmically like he’s asleep, so I quietly get up and check the time. I’ve only been asleep for a half hour, but I figure the football game is almost over by now. I feel bad for leaving Ross out there to fail, I know he must be really upset by now, so I head over to the stadium to see if I can catch the last few minutes. On my way out I see Cameron and Larry lying down in a far corner, their bellies are touching and they’re lighting up. A muscular servant brings them both a steak right as the door closes.

The tread to the almost empty stadium makes me short of breath because I’m still really stuffed. The football players are off the field but a few coaches are sitting on a bench, binging on the last of the corn dogs. The scoreboard reads “80-0” and I guess the game’s over and the boys are all in the locker room by now. I head under the stadium and sneak into the musty showers. The room is steamy and tubby guys walk around naked. Luckily I’m shirtless, in athletic shorts, and sweaty, so I don’t look too out of place. A lot of them are bumping bellies and slapping each other’s naked fat asses; I walk past two guys with boners who’re playing with the other’s tits and giggling. I instantly walk the other way, carefully wondering around looking for Ross. I can’t help bumping into plump bellies; I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m not going to find him. However I soon hear his voice booming throughout the showers and head over to him. He’s standing on a bench in the middle of the locker room in nothing but a very well fitting jock strap. I cross my legs, hoping nobody notices my excitement at seeing him.

“Alright guys, gather round…” He’s loud but you can hear his disappointment. “I know tonight sucked major ass, but we gave it our all! Sometimes we try new strategies and they don’t work out, that’s part of life, but we keep going! We eat our asses off so that next week we do better! I don’t want to see any of you slacking, and you know I won’t be. So here’s to next week, LET’S MAKE IT A GOOD ONE!” He delivered that so well, even I feel motivated to come back bigger and badder for the last game. Once his team’s done patting him on the back and whatnot I head over to him.

“Oh, hey Conner, what’re you doing here?” He asks, looking happy to see me.

“I wanted to see if you were okay after that, nice speech by the way.” I give him a halfhearted smile and an almost awkward, half naked side hug.

“Thanks, and yes I’m okay. Especially now that you’re here,” he winks. “You wanna head over to the showers with me? They’ll be empty in a few minutes…” He’s definitely flirting with me, and I’m not shocked or taken back, but I am a little surprised that he’d want to do this after a big game loss. So I play dumb and act like I just want some food. I follow his barely covered butt into the abandoned shower section, the one with the buffet table against the wall with no shower heads.

“Nobody’s going to be here until the custodians clean it tomorrow,” Ross lets me know.

“Good, I don’t think we’re going to want to be interrupted. I’m going to eat so much man, you have no idea. And I bet you’re starving after all that hard work tonight” I say and walk over to the table.

“The coaches let us snack throughout the game, but shit babe I’m starving,” He tells me. Did he just call me ‘babe’?

“Did you just call me ‘babe’?” I pry, acting dumbfounded but secretly I’m really flattered.

“Uhhh,” he tries. “Yeah, I like you a lot and I thought you might’ve liked me liked me. Shit, sorry man I made this weird. You can stay here and have at it with the buffet, I’m going t-“

“You’re not going anywhere,” I interrupt. “You’re staying right here, babe.” I walk over to him and kiss him. He puts his strong, chubby arms around my sides and we embrace for the first time. I break out after a few moments and walk over to the half empty buffet table. “And you’re going to finish all of this before I let you have your way with me. Sit down, fatass.”

He plops himself down against the wall and I go run a shower on the opposite end as hot as it’ll go. It’s getting cold in this tiled room and we’re both soaked, plus steam will only make things hotter. I grab a steak and a bowl of potatoes and get to work. He greedily eats each bite I give him, and I rub his thick belly. We keep this going for a while before he says he’s too full to finish. We’re close to emptying the table, so I fill up one last big plate and lay down next to him, stroking his meaty gut.

“One more, for me,” I beg. “I love this, and I know you do too.”

“Okay, but this is the last one. I’m so fucking full though,*burp* jack me off while you do it. I need the distraction.” He tells me and I nod. I’ve never gone this far, but it feels so natural. I take off his jock and go to work on his massive dick. I feed him every last bite without him complaining, he still hasn’t come and I tell him to roll over. He obeys and I turn on our shower head, pleasing my slippery, sloppy man.

“Go easy on me,” he says. “I’m fucking full.”