Baseball Bellies: Chapter 4

April

Abram sat in his office chair wearing nothing but a jock. Facing the camera, legs spread wide, he looked at himself with a cocky confidence that had become his brand. His thighs had grown quite chunky with muscle and chub. They appeared as two hulking cylinders of meat that lead straight to his manhood. His package, while hearty, looked crowded between the girth of his legs and the layer of fat encompassing his torso.

He casually plopped his hand on his thigh, letting the meat reverberate from the motion. He then gave it a more deliberate slap. He jiggled it again once more and then caressed the soft hairy skin of his inner thigh before traveling north to his sCorriganach. Sitting down his midsection was a series of rolls, freshly grown from his increasing gluttony. He rubbed them and gave himself a pat. With a few more pounds they were sure to glob together and form a momentous belly.

Abram turned off the camera and posted the short teaser online.

With the discovery of Grommr, Abram’s online celebrity began to explode. He took the encouragement he had been receiving from his fans to heart and had gained an unreal amount of weight. He had no clue the exact number of pounds he had stacked on. All he knew was that he felt caked in fat. From the softness under his chin, to the belly wobbling at his midsection, to the plumpness of his rump: Abram was porking out. He wasn’t the least bit concerned either, especially with the rest of the team either just as chunky or outpacing him.

Generally speaking, baseball players weren’t out of commission if they stacked on some pounds, leaving the boys mostly unconcerned about packing it on. Sure, they needed some speed and agility to run the bases, but there was no way anyone would become so large they couldn’t do that. At least, that’s what they told themselves. In reality, much of the team was already getting close to this tipping point. Especially Corrigan.

Corrigan seemed to be expanding by the day with most of the weight collecting in his middle. His love handles expanded exponentially, drooping off his sides and struggling to break free of all his clothing. From behind, Corrigan’s once solid V-shape was soiled by the hefty wads of chub clinging above his hip bones. His love handles had become the big joke of the house, with the boys constantly grabbing them from behind and riffing on their growth.

In front, the weight of Corrigan’s belly had already begun to sag into an overhang with a deep crease. It protruded in front of him noticeably and wobbled subtly with each step. The fat was even encroaching upon his once sturdy pecs and strong arms. The Superman-esque chest he once proudly displayed in V-neck tees was beginning to droop with fat, while the hard lines of biceps and triceps were beginning to soften. Corrigan was undoubtedly becoming a big guy.

He felt constantly weighed down and heavy. His footsteps landed with loud thumps beneath his girth and bending over was becoming a difficult task. He struggled to lace his cleats for practice with his belly constantly in the way. Naturally, his practice clothes had been sized up on multiple occasions already, but these days he was particularly embarrassed about one aspect of his gear. The cup and jockstrap he wore was beginning to seriously cut into his fat pad. It wasn’t even too small around the waist, just the hardness of the cup cut uncomfortably deep into the roll of fat bulging above his package.

Naturally, the coach took notice of the team’s unexpected growth. As they showed up to practice one day he finally lost it.

“What are you lardos eating in that goddamn house? Are there even mirrors in the bathrooms? The shirts on one, two, three, four, five of you,” he counted aloud, “can’t even contain the beer guts you’ve put on. And Corrigan my god, you are the biggest of all! You lot are starting a diet immediately. For the entirety of practice today you’ll be running laps around the field.”

The boys stared at him with dull expressions and hungry sCorriganachs.

“Go on! Get going, run! Except you, Corrigan, you come here.”

Corrigan stepped forward and tried to pull down his shirt as far as it would go.

“What’s going on here, huh? You look like you’ve put on a hundred pounds this year and it's only April. I know being on lockdown isn’t easy, but what the hell man?”

“I guess just stress, I don’t know…”

“Stress? You call this,” Coach groughly grabbed Corrigan’s overhang with one hand and slapped it twice with the other, “stress eating? I’m not sure if you realize but this isn’t a little bit of weight, you are obese. You bounce when you run. I can’t even see your jawline for chrissakes. So what’s really going on?”

“I guess, I… I didn’t want to say anything. But since the university cut our stipend we signed up for an experimental drug trial.”

“You what!?”

“We needed cash! And they didn’t say anything about weight gain.”

Livid, Coach sent Corrigan to run with the rest of the boys. Each step caused his body fat to rise and painfully drop. Within seconds he was drenched in sweat and gasping for air like the rest of the team. As a group, they were laughably slow and clearly struggling to move their swollen bodies. Massive sweat stains spread across their clothes as they prayed for time to pass quickly. Occasionally, someone would drop to their knees and vomit. The physical exertion was simply too much.

“You just wait for the diet plan you’ll be receiving Corriganorrow,” Coach said as they finished up. “And no more experimental supplements. You’re done with that.”