The Making of a Cow: Chapter 2

After his viral video, Roger left the frat, quit the soccer team, moved into the dorms, and lost all the weight. It wasn’t difficult to slim down but it fucked with his head. He was in denial about his weight gain fetish and tried to memory hole the hazing that had happened to him as a freshman. He didn’t talk to anyone he used to hang out with that year, although sometimes he would see them in the campus gym. The teasing persisted for a year or so, but eventually dissipated. Roger was doing well, so he told himself. He was a finance major with straight A’s, an attractive girlfriend, and an internship at a popular accounting firm. Unfortunately, he could only repress his true desires for so long. 

At the beginning of his senior year, Roger seriously injured his shoulder at the gym. The muscular V-line he had developed snapped under too much weight and poor form. He was out of commission for six months and would need physical therapy after that. Serious weight lifting wouldn’t be an option for at least a year. Roger was devastated. 

He reacted by eating his feelings, at least that’s what he told himself was doing. He was sad and literally broken and this was a very normal reaction, right? It wasn’t that he was trying to gain weight, it was that he wasn’t able to weight lift anymore. Nevermind cardio. The first month after his injury, Roger put on ten pounds. No one batted an eye, least of all his girlfriend. But Roger noticed that fresh band of fat circling his belly and it drove him wild. His libido skyrocketed which he chalked up to his girlfriend as being attributed to boredom since he was incapacitated. 

The next month he gained fifteen pounds. Nobody made any comments out of politeness, but the weight was becoming obvious. His girlfriend would squeeze his belly curiously at times, giving Roger an instant erection. He was even getting demanding about food. Complaining that delivery orders were always smaller than they were at the restaurant or that his girlfriend wasn’t cooking for him often enough or that fast food had become too expensive. 

With the next ten pounds and constant talk of food, it became obvious that Roger had a fixation. His girlfriend broke up with him. She said she needed to focus on graduating but they both knew the truth. Roger was becoming a fat fuck with a fetish he could barely keep secret. Roger responded to singledom by eating even more. Now he had no one watching over him, no one to comment on the immense volume of his consumption or how his clothes no longer fit. He could be as gluttonous as he desired and blame it on the breakup. 

So Roger ate and ate and ate. Any health concern was far from his mind as he stuffed himself with fast food on a near daily basis. He was easily gaining one or two pounds a week. To top it off he had picked up a drinking habit as well, mostly beer but sometimes liquor too. Some nights, he’d get so drunk that he would find that old video from freshman year and masturbate to it. 

Eventually, Roger decided he had anxiety and was also depressed. That would explain the weight gain after all. So he saw some doctors and was prescribed medication that also happened to cause weight gain. Once he had the pills in hand he realized he wasn’t so keen on pharmaceuticals after all and that food was a better comfort. So he continued to eat. 

By the time graduation rolled around, Roger had put on about a hundred pounds. He was fatter than he had ever been in his life. He had a pot belly hanging off him like a middle aged man. His chest sagged and his thighs rubbed. A flight of stairs left him winded. He constantly reminded people about his “damn shoulder injury” as if that justified why he had become such a fat fuck. Sure, he couldn’t lift weights for a year but couldn’t he at least hit the treadmill? That’s what everyone said behind his back. 

At the graduation ceremony his family was shocked to see what a lard ass he had become. How could they not be? It didn’t matter that Roger had bought new formalwear that actually fit, there was no hiding a hundred pounds of fresh blubber. His parents expressed concern to which Roger blamed his shoulder. When they pointed out that he was nearly finished with physical therapy and would be able to get back in the gym soon, Roger was dismissive. He had all the excuses: he was out of practice and would be starting from zero, his shoulder would always be weak after the injury, without the campus gym he couldn’t afford a membership, his metabolism had slowed too, besides, he only needed to lose “a couple” pounds. When his parent pushed back he resorted to the mental health excuse. The medication they believe he was still on caused weight gain. Didn’t they know he was depressed? He all but implied they should be lucky he was still alive. 

Roger dispensed these defenses all day long and then returned to his dorm to chug melted ice cream and stroke his cock. He was fully captivated by his own growing form. It was a Pandora's box situation, and now that he was gaining there was no going back. Somewhere in the back of his mind Roger knew this. He was too afraid to admit it to himself, but deep down he knew that he was only going to get fatter. Much fatter.