One Hundred Pounds Later: Chapter 2

My belly jiggled in my lap as the plane hit turbulence. At 210 pounds I was filling out the seat pretty well and it felt good, albeit cramped. I was in the window seat which didn’t help matters. In the aisle seat sat Tom, one of the guys I had met in Palm Springs at the end of last summer. Tom was the unofficial ringleader of the group. He was the oldest at 40-something, the fattest at 300-something, and the richest at a million something.

Tom could barely squeeze himself between the arm rests. His girth flowed past the confines of his seat and pressed into the poor guy wedged between us. This man was large in his own right. Not fat, but tall and muscular with broad shoulders and big arms that had nowhere to go besides squishing into our love handles and arm fat. The look on his face when he realized this was his seat said plenty. Another gainer badge of honor unlocked: being the fat guy no one wants to sit next to on the plane.

I was flying back to school from Los Angeles at the end of winter break. Over the past semester I’d stacked on twenty more pounds of pure chub. I didn’t even have to try, honestly. My appetite completely shifted to that of a pig’s. I ate constantly throughout the day and kept every meal and snack drowned in butter, grease, and heavy cream. Tom also kept in touch, as well as some of the other guys, offering encouragement and advice. We would exchange belly pics throughout the week and sext occasionally.

Surprisingly, my family didn’t flinch when I returned home looking even fatter than when I’d left a few months ago. The implicit support felt great and I couldn’t wait to continue my gains back on campus. That’s why Tom was traveling with me. We determined that my gaining was hindered by having a roommate so Tom was helping me move into a one bedroom dorm all to myself. I was a bit sad to leave Dexter behind, but nothing would get in the way of gaining weight.

~

“You stay here while I plate the food,” Tom gave my belly a hearty slap and climbed out of bed.

I lay there with a hard on pressing against the curve of my underbelly. I was finally moved into my new place and even though Tom had stocked every nook and cranny with fattening foods, he ordered us a massive breakfast delivered. He returned with a tray of food fit for a king. I licked my lips and sat up excitedly, wiggling my tush back and forth in hungry anticipation.

“You’re such a greedy little piglet, aren’t you?” Tom chuckled.

I nodded and rubbed my tummy. Per usual, I scarfed the food down and when I started feeling full and lazy Tom laid me back and fed me all the while massaging my stomach. Spending time alone with Tom was fantastic. I felt like chubby royalty being doted on hand and foot. There was an element of mutual lustful gaining with the other guys in the group, but with Tom it was all about me.

“So I was thinking,” Tom said. “Since it’s my last evening in town plus it's the weekend, why don’t we head down to New York and hit some bars?”

“That sounds fun,” I said.

“With the caveat that you have to wear whatever I choose, eat whatever I say, and go wherever I decide.”

“Sounds dangerous. I’m in.”

A few hours later I stepped out of the bathroom already regretting whatever I was getting myself into. I was wearing a size small T-shirt that didn’t cover a third of my overhang and was so snug that I felt like a stuffed sausage. Over that I wore a heavy flannel that looked nice but wouldn’t close to button, leaving my gut exposed to the elements. I had let my body hair grow out for the first time in years and felt overstimulated by every draft and movement that brushed against my fur. On my lower half was a pair of denim that had split up the ass a few weeks ago and apparently Tom had rescued from the trash. I looked ridiculous.

“You look great,” Tom grinned devilishly. “Except I don’t want you wearing any underwear.”

Initially, I felt ridiculous mounting the train down to the city. My bare ass was glued to the seat beneath me and my exposed bouncing belly fat attracted stares from every person that passed. It was a bit embarrassing, until Tom revealed a king sized Snicker he’d stashed away. You’d think pigging out on sweets while looking like an overfed slut would heighten the embarrassment, but having food in my mouth actually calmed me down.

By the time we reached the restaurant, a Chinese buffet tucked away from prying eyes, my stomach was growling in anticipation. It was time to fill up his piggy and Tom did just that. I sat at the table patiently while Tom filled up plate after plate of food for both of us. I didn’t have to lift a finger until it came time to chow down. God knows how much we consumed, but it was an obscene amount. We didn’t stop until my stomach was at max capacity, my shirt riding up even further, and my pants dramatically unbuttoned.

I should have been self conscious about my bush peeking out above the zipper, but instead I confidently wobbled down the streets of New York like the prized pig I was becoming. The venue was a scuzzy bear bar that was quite crowded. The second we stepped inside all eyes were on me. Well more precisely, all eyes were on my gut. It wobbled with a firm heaviness that betrayed the fact I had recently eaten. Some guys winked and some whistled. Tom wrapped a strong arm around my back and gripped my overhang tightly.

“He’s mine,” Tom asserted to no one and every one.

It felt good to be the star of the show.