Baseball Bellies: Chapter 5

May

It had barely been twenty four hours since Coach decreed a team-wide diet and exercise plan that he began to feel ill. A few days later he tested positive for COVID-19 and was quarantined at home. Resultantly, Corrigan became the de facto coach until his recovery. Needless to say, any notion of dieting went out the window and the boys continued their experimental treatment and overactive appetites.

By the time May rolled around the entire team were tubs of lard. The house was increasingly becoming a pig sty, with pizza boxes and take out strewn across the floor, empty chip bags piled up around the TV, empty milkshakes and donut boxes piling up in the trash, and a constant tower of dirty dishes in the sink. They had collectively lost the energy to clean up after themselves. With all the fresh poundage weighing them down and without regular practices, the players struggled to even make trips to the grocery store let alone bend over and pick up their waste.

Miguel continued to think of himself as an outlier, as somehow better than the rest of the team. Sure, he wasn’t taking the supplements the rest were taking and he still hit the gym regularly. Nevertheless, the collective lifestyle shift in the house had impacted Miguel’s waistline with a hefty forty pounds gained.

Most of the weight had gone straight to his gut which ballooned out over the waistline of all his designer jeans. Noticeably, his form fitting winter jacket would no longer zip up over the belly hanging off him. Even his flannels barely fit, as he adapted to the hefty guy look of leaving the botCorrigan few buttons undone. Miguel tried his best to keep looking sharp, but there was only so much he could do when pudge was rounding him out at every turn.

He was aware of the weight gain but consoled himself with a variety of half truths. He still fit in his jeans (barely), he still had muscle mass and stamina (somewhat), he ate (mostly) healthy foods. It also helped that every other person on the team was quickly outpacing Miguel’s growth. He was still the smallest person in the house, but that meant less and less the fatter everyone became.

After a tough gym session, Miguel decided to treat himself to some of the chinese food the guys had ordered earlier in the day. He piled a mound of noodles on a plate and headed to the couch, clearing away some candy wrappers so he could sit down. The food tasted delicious, especially after forcing himself to eat well the last three days. Once the greasy flavors hit his tongue he couldn’t stop eating. Slice after slice went down as he mindlessly gazed at the television screen.

From across the room, Miguel heard heavy footsteps slowly approaching. Eventually, Corrigan’s large body came into view with a tray of chinese food unto himself. He lowered his expansive ass onto the couch next to Corrigan with a grunt and sigh of relief. Underneath Corrigan’s weight, the couch creaked loudly and Miguel could feel the structure sag beneath the pressure. Hearing a lighter click, Miguel looked over to see Corrigan sparking a joint.

Since Coach had become sick, Corrigan had ushered in a new era of weed smoking, beer drinking, and constant gluttony. This lifestyle came naturally to most college aged men and the team gleefully adapted to letting loose and allowing their appetites to take over. Miguel’s eyes examined the pile of dough that Corrigan had become, fully realizing for the first time the extent of Corrigan’s fatness. Corrigan’s shirt draped loosely over the mountainous belly in his lap, not even coming close to fully covering its expanse. Miguel noticed bright red stretch marks below Corrigan’s belly button, running up his gut, and disappearing under his shirt.

“Christ man, when’s the baby due?” Miguel said with disgust.

“Huh?” Corrigan replied lazily while puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“You got stretch marks like a pregnant bitch. Or are you too fat to even see past that double chin?”

“Fuck off!”

The commotion caused Abram to stir from a food coma. He was passed out on a nearby armchair after eating nearly half a pizza to himself. Unlike the rest of the house, Abram was actively trying to gain weight. With the last fifteen or so pounds he had tapped into a subculture of “gainers” and “encouragers” on social media who clamored for him to grow thicker and thicker. With each pound gained his follower count grew, cheering on his cakey ass and soft tummy.

“Do you even plan on recovering from this unbridled gluttony?” Miguel continued. “You are the captain after all, but I guess by the looks of it you’re leading everyone down the path to obesity.”

Abram noticed he had popped a boner while he slept. His hard cock pressed against the warm belly fat just above it. He scratched at his thighs which were inexplicably itchy lately and maintained his position on the couch. He would wait until his dick calmed down before he got up. Besides, he didn’t mind watching the drama unfold between Corrigan and Miguel.

“Shut the fuck up,” Corrigan countered and scratched at his fresh strech marks unconsciously. “And what? Like you’re some slick jock? Hate to break it to yah, but that’s a certified beer gut you got going on.”

“The fuck did you say to me?” Miguel lept authoritatively to his feet and assumed fighting position.

However, this quick gesture had an unintended consequence. The button that was barely holding Miguel’s jeans closed popped off and smacked against the TV. The weight of his gut caused his zipper to undo and his belly to dramatically spill forward out of his shirt. Miguel wasn’t wearing underwear because his pants were too tight for the extra layer. Consequently, the teammates in the vicinity were treated to the sight of Miguel’s burgeoning hirsute fat pad.

Miguel immediately took off in shame. Abram’s hard on which had just begun to soften sprang back to full attention after seeing Miguel’s snafu.

“Aw come back Bubba,” Corrigan shouted after him. “Don’t forget your noodles big boy!”