Two Hundred Pounds Later: Chapter 1

I stumbled to the Uber parked outside the brewery. It was a Prius and I could feel the car shift beneath my weight. A belch escaped my lips inadvertently as it took off and I held the next one in. My belly sat heavy in my lap, bloated full of beer and burgers and fries. This was my new normal. I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t easy working on my feet all day as a big guy.

I fumbled for my keys to unlock my small studio apartment on the eastside of Los Angeles. I belched once again as I entered and headed straight for the toilet. Now that I was 300 pounds I was shitting constantly. That’s something they don’t tell you about on the gainer forums; all the food produces just as much waste.

Sitting on the toilet I caught up on the group thread labeled “The Guys.” The Guys are a house of gainers I used to live with. They’re responsible for my current body, not that I didn’t want it or anything. They really inducted me into the world of gaining one summer in Palm Springs, and now, a little over a year and a hundred pounds later, here I am. A fat guy. I would still be living with them but I needed some space, I needed to start a life on my own that wasn’t centered around getting fatter and fatter.

That said, I supposedly have something of a weight gain curse cast upon me at the moment. Maybe it’s a blessing, it depends how you look at it. I’m not sure yet. They say if this guy Gordo, who is a total whale, comes inside of you then you will gain a hundred pounds in a year. I’m not the superstitious type, but a year ago I bottomed for Gordo and now here I am. Then, a couple months ago, it happened again. I mean we’ll see, the idea that I could weigh 400 pounds in less than twelve months seems impossible. But so did the last hundred pounds…

~

“Bro, you’re really porkin’ up lately,” my straight coworker announced in front of our whole staff.

I could feel myself turn red. I honestly didn’t know what he was talking about. As far as I could tell I hadn’t gained any weight recently, though it had been ages since I stepped on a scale. Not since I was living with the guys in Santa Monica.

“What and you’re not?” I shot back.

Working at the brewery had taught me how to hold my own with a bunch of straight men. In fact, I often passed as straight these days, a fact my former twink self would never have believed. I suppose once you’re a scruffy 300 pound cub in denim and flannel working at a brewery people just assume you’re straight. Who knew.

“Not as fast as you are tubs! Shit, I’m surprised you can still tie that apron in the back.” A few people chuckled. “But it looks good on you man.” Now he’s trying to save me from embarrassment. “I know how you bears roll, hah! Large and in charge!”

I shrugged it off and got back to work. On my way home I stopped at a Target and bought a scale. When I was living with the guys I weighed in at 300 pounds about two months ago around the end of September. I figured I had at most put on ten pounds since then but I wasn’t sure. I mean, all of my clothes still fit. For the most part. I had to throw some pairs of underwear away but those had been small for awhile. And my thighs blew out another pair of pants but that was a long time coming.

I had to park far away from my apartment and when I finally got inside my unit I was gasping for air. I could feel the sweat pooling under my tits. I pulled off my shirt and wiped my brow with it. I felt pretty out of shape; maybe I had gained more weight than I thought in the past couple months. I unboxed the scale and popped some batteries inside of it. Bending over to set it on the ground reminded me of how fat I had become. The belly was always in the way.

I took a deep breath before I stepped on the scale. The numbers shot higher than I expected. I weighed 320 pounds. I could hardly believe it. I had casually, unintentionally put on 20 pounds in two months and didn’t even notice? Sure, that was the general pace of my gains all last year, but I was actually trying to get fat back then. This fresh 20 pounds was totally accidental. Perhaps this was just your run of the mill winter weight? As I stared at the number on the scale my doorbell rang. I’d nearly forgotten about those pizzas I ordered.

~

They announced that the brewery was closing on a Friday. My apron covered the fact that my only clean T-shirt didn’t quite cover the entirety of my overhang. I was self-conscious about it and briefly wondered if unemployment meant I would lose weight. I didn’t want to slim down, but it might allow me to avoid sizing up on my clothes which was a mild relief. Constantly swelling in size was quite frankly exhausting.

Reality hit when the brewery offered a few of us positions at other locations along with a stipend for moving. I didn’t anticipate such a generous offer and getting out of LA didn’t sound so bad. It was too hot in Southern California for a guy of my size. Seattle was one of the options and I liked the idea of aging into a hulking lumberjack daddy in the Pacific Northwest. Besides, it just so happened that my biggest Grommr crush resided in that very city. His name was Calvin and he was a total ex-jock who had recently franchised his ice cream shop, Calvin’s Creamery. It seemed like a no-brainer…