Dispatches: Back to School

Philadelphia, PA / September 10th / Men’s Locker Room

Frankie knew what he was getting into. He had gained thirty pounds since he had last seen his teammates at the beginning of summer, and that didn’t include the fifty he had put on during his first year of university. At this point, he was fat. Noticeably fat. Brand new stretch marks lit up the circumference of his thighs and even his face had begun to fill out. He wore sweatpants daily with food stained T-shirts that struggled to stretch over the mass of belly fat hanging off his waist. He was constantly gassy and broke a sweat from the shortest walk. Basically all Frankie had done for the past three months was eat, sleep, and orgasm, so when it came time to hit the field the plumped up jock was feeling a bit of hesitation.

Stepping into the locker room with his shoulders back and beer belly forward, Frankie tried to muster all the confidence he could. Nevertheless, he knew what was coming. “Holy shit,” was the first comment he heard, followed by a string of others: “Damn dude,” “Shit Frankie got fat,” “What have you been eating,” “Dude you’re supposed to stop bulking over summer,” and his favorite, “You’re fatter than coach now.”

Frankie remained casual and tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. He patted his belly and joked about it coming out of nowhere. In reality, he knew this was what he wanted, or at least this was what a strange horny part of his brain that had been unleashed over the summer wanted. The truth was that he was addicted to growth. It started with muscle gains in high school, but those weren’t enough. The freshman fifty arrived unexpectedly but he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he enjoyed the soft pudge piling up on his frame. With every fresh pound of blubber he felt bigger and more masculline, more in control.

There was no telling his teammates that fact. Instead he played the ex-jock, the jester. He let the guys pat and poke and squeeze at the plush chub hanging off his beefy frame. He jiggled it heartily with two hands for their enjoyment. He even gave it a couple of slaps for various TikTok feeds. Getting fat seemed to attract more attention than being cut, that was for certain.

When it came time to undress, Frankie did feel a pang of insecurity. There was no denying he was the fattest guy on the team. Some of the other dudes were bulky, but nowhere near the girth of Frankie. Changing into their practice uniforms several of the boys snuck glances at the rolls folding around Frankie’s body. They seemed almost entranced. Several were even sizing up his manhood and Frankie wondered if he was hallucinating.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but none of Frankie’s old practice clothes fit. Even his compression underwear failed to cover the immensity of his rump. He had no other options though. So he did his best to suck in and squeeze into every last bit of clothing and the result was undeniably laughable. His calves bulged outward from his socks, his belly hung free beneath the jersey, his ass cheeks bubbled out from the rim of his pants. All the boys were laughing at the visage of the overfed jock.

When Coach arrived he took one look at Frankie and said: “Jesus Christ what did you do to yourself? Go home, buy new clothes, and get some cardio in for Christ sake.”

New Haven, Connecticut / September 27th / Dorm Room

“Here you go,” I said and dropped a massive bag of McDonald’s on my roommate's desk.

“Fuck yeah Andrei, you’re the best.”

I yanked the name tag off my shirt and slumped on my bed. I noticed my uniform shirt was getting tight. What size was this? A large? It was basically new, I only started working at McDonald’s at the beginning of summer. I took the job out of desperation. I needed money to rent a room over the break otherwise I would be sent back to Russia.

I was getting pudgy, there was no denying it. A year and a half in this country and I was already swelling up with fat like everyone else around me. I didn’t even realize until my favorite pair of jeans refused to button about a month ago. I had been lean all my life and was genuinely surprised that I was able to gain weight at all. I hopped on the scale, and it was true: I had put on a solid twenty pounds over the last year.

Gripping my belly with both hands, it was obvious to see where the weight landed. How could I not have noticed this swollen paunch right in front of me? To tell the truth, I kind of enjoyed it. After hooking up with some pudgy guys last semester, I learned the truth behind the phrase “more cushion for pushin.” It was fun to have some extra padding to slap and jiggle around.

There was no denying that the job at McDonald’s was accelerating a process that was already in place. My roommate was a big stoner and we often found ourselves sparking up and overeating once the munchies set in. His name was Leo and he was already a portly guy when we met, but must have gained about fifteen more pounds last semester alone. We got on well and I was happy to rent a place with him over the summer.

The only problem was that with no schoolwork we really were becoming absolute pigs. Not only was I overeating on my lunch break at work, but I was bringing back massive spreads for Leo and I to split once I got off. It got to the point where Leo expected his McDonald’s delivery every day that I worked. If I didn’t deliver, he would get upset. Moreover, this food was more of a pre-dinner warm up. We would chow down on the fast food like it was horderves, then smoke a bowl and order more pizza. It was certainly nice living like a lazy American.

“Yeah yeah,” I responded to Leo as he tore into the bag of fast food. “I think we might need to slow down on the pigging out now that school has started though.”

“Booo, that’s no fun.”

“Dude, my uniform barely fits anymore and I think I’m getting stretch marks on my thighs. Has that ever happened to you?”

Leo chuckled, pulled up his shirt, and lifted his overhang, “Look at these puppies.” Indeed his belly was covered in bright red stretch marks. “Get used to it, my friend. This is only the beginning.”

Des Moines, Iowa / October 5th / Auditorium

As Keane walked to class he continually had to stretch his shirt past the round of chub folding over his waistband. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his shirt had ridden up beneath his backpack revealing swollen love handles. The weight had stacked on so quickly during his first month of university that he only realized this morning that none of his clothes fit. He shrugged it off, though. Keane was the popular guy after all. He was the star of all the high school sports teams, everyone loved him, he could get any girl… so he told himself.

Bending over at the water fountain he felt the cold air brush his lower back and tried to pull up the denim waistband slicing into his muffin top. It was true that he’d been slacking on hitting the gym. The fraternity didn’t help either. Constant partying and hazing rituals that somehow always revolved around food and drinking were keeping him stuffed and bloated nearly 24/7. Calories were being swallowed at a pace his body had hitherto never known.

Standing back up from the water fountain, Keane strode into the men’s restroom. Standing at the urinal he unzipped his snug pants and struggled to excavate his dick. He unbuttoned his pants to make things easier and his belly fell forward with relief. While pissing he scratched at the soft stretchmarks of his underbelly, once again oblivious to the effects of his gluttony.

When it came time to button his pants back up Keane was met with a struggle. He sucked in with all his might, muscles flexing as he cinched the pants closed, and immediately let his gut drop back down. He wished he’d worn sweatpants. Rushing to class, he failed to pull his shirt back down and wobbled into the auditorium with his fuzzy overhang on full display.

“Hey Victoria,” he greeted one of the cute girls he’d recently befriended by raising his arm to wave.

This gesture caused his shirt to fully ride up above his belly button. This time he caught the indiscretion and awkwardly yanked the fabric back down. With his phone in hand, Keane readied himself to get Victoria’s social media. He sauntered up to her with all the swagger and confidence he’d been accustomed to exuding. Victoria seemed bemused.

As he began to ask for her Instagram, his phone slipped from his hand and landed on the floor. Keane reached down but found the movement to be impossible with the tub of fat hanging over the tight denim wrapped around his lower half. Instead, he squatted to get lower to the ground. As he spread his legs wide and dropped low, a loud rip emanated from his rump. Keane’s eyes widened and he reached back to discover a massive hole opened up down the ass of his pants. Victoria giggled.

Keane shot back up with his face flushed red. He awkwardly excused himself and rushed out of the auditorium, his plumped up rear wobbling in exposed gray boxer briefs. Whispers could be heard and he felt the sting of several eyes watching his body bounce and jiggle out the door.

Eleanor, Georgia / September 16th / Dorm Room

You know, I was always mature for my age. I went through puberty much younger than all the other guys. My voice was deep as hell in middle school and by freshman year of high school I could grow a full beard. By the time I graduated high school I looked like I’d been held back or something. I stacked on muscle easily and loomed over all my pimple faced peers. Before I’d even set foot on campus I was bagging college girls.

All of this is to say, I think the reason for my dad bod is that my metabolism slowed down way early. It started freshman year with the usual shit you know. Boozing and hitting the dining hall and fast food, it all caught up to me faster than it did the other guys. After my first semester I’d stacked on the freshman fifteen with ease. I cut back a bit and only put on about ten more pounds by summer. Sure, I looked bulky, but it wasn’t anything crazy.

My girlfriend, Bee, never complained either and I was even getting compliments on my bulk. It was summer when things really got out of control. Bee went on vacation with her family and I hung around campus with the boys. Without classes time seemed to blur and it didn’t help that we were drinking all day every day.

I honestly don’t remember much about last summer. All I know is that come fall none of my clothes fit anymore. Seriously, none of my clothes fit. My underwear was all torn and even my sweats couldn’t get up around my ass. I’ve avoided stepping on the scale, but I reckon I put on about thirty pounds. I mean, I’m kind of chubby now. There’s no denying it. Still, there’s no reason Bee had to freak out like that.

She barges into my room like a crazy person, I swear to god. Four hours earlier we had a nice breakfast at the diner and everything was fine. Now she’s yelling at me, calling me fat and disgusting and a total pig. I was just laying around minding my own business, comfy in a new pair of underwear and munching on some Chipotle. She literally grabbed the bowl of food right off my belly and threw it across the room. Like, hello? I was eating that!

Long story short, within a matter of minutes I was broken up with. She said I revolted her because my belly folded over my waist like an old man, and that I ate so much at the diner she was stunned. She couldn’t believe how much I had changed over the summer. I even smelled different, she said, like a pig. I mean, I know I’ve put on weight but this all felt a bit over the top. Besides, most of the upperclassmen were my size. It’s really just a matter of time, you know?

While it was upsetting to lose such a fine piece of ass, I can’t say I’m too pressed about it. To be honest, I kind of like the new weight. I definitely like eating. And if this is what comes alongside a big appetite then I don’t have any other choice than to accept it. This is who I am, and the world has to accept that.

Palm Springs, CA / September 1st / Hotel Pool

Tristan nervously removed his oversized T-shirt. Every year he joined his friends for their end of summer pool party, only this time he wasn’t sporting his usual summer bod. The toned muscle and low body fat percentage he had spent his entire college career cultivating had now faded under a layer of pudge after an indulgent summer in Italy. Despite his nerves, this change in physique was actually welcome.

Tristan had been a wannabe gainer since he came of age. When five pounds snuck up on him over holiday he decided to turn it into thirty. Now, the reality of his overindulgence was impossible to ignore. Wearing nothing but last year’s Speedo, Tristan was buttered up and bulging from every angle. He looked as though he’d eaten his former twink self.

The elastic of the swimsuit cut into every curve, whether the thickness of his thighs, the plumpness of his rump, or the wideness of his waist. Keeping his body hair trimmed only accentuated the supple squish of his skin. Almost immediately upon disrobing Tristan attracted disapproving glares from several gay men including his friends.

What had he done to himself? Tristan was immediately filled with shame and regret and made a beeline for the bar, the lower half of his ass cheeks wobbling out of the confines of his Speedo on the way. While ordering a colorful cocktail Tristan was startled by the arrival of a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a beast of a man staring down at him with a grin. Bulging with muscles and chub and body hair, the man introduced himself.

“I think you’d prefer the hotel down the street,” he said. “There’s too many twigs in these parts.”

One year later

Tristan’s friends lounged by the pool. They gossiped about when their friend would arrive and what he would look like. No one had really seen Tristan since last summer and word on the street was that he had undergone something of a transformation. From what they could tell on social media his face did look fuller, but that could have been from the beard he’d grown. Tristan refused to travel with them this time and promised he’d meet them there. Apparently he was already poolside at a different hotel.

When the gate to the pool opened everyone’s eyes shot in that direction. “No way,” said one person, and “that’s not him,” proclaimed another. Indeed, it was Tristan. It was a much heftier and hairier version of Tristan, but it was him. He lumbered over with the slow waddle of someone who was already stuffed to the brim with food and alcohol.

His belly projected several inches in front of him with an authoritative wobble that was mesmerizing. It was so thick and developed that the overhang nearly eclipsed the barely-there Speedo he was squeezed into. Fluffy love handles seemed to defy gravity as his sides, and a massive rump and chub rub slowed his gait even further. To top it off, Tristan was covered from head to toe in a dense layer of body hair that no one in the group had ever seen in all its fully grown glory.

Tristan lowered himself down at the edge of the pool. His friends were speechless as his bulbous rump plopped against the wet patio and spread out beneath him, nearly gobbling the swimsuit up into a thong. He chuckled at their stupefied looks and patted his belly.

“What can I say? From twink to bear!”