FatGuyBelly
24th January 2009, 07:33 AM
I stared into the mirror as my belly jiggled. It seemed larger...but how much larger could it be? Sure, maybe I overate a little recently, but it couldn't be that large. I wobbled over to the closet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of shorts. I put on the shirt, though it seemed quite tight.
"Crap" I said. The seems stretched over my extended stomach. I slipped on the khaki shorts...but no matter how much I struggled with the button, it would not close. I sighed and looked into the mirror. You could see a beer gut sticking out from under the stretched shirt, and a pair of too-small shorts that would certainly not button up, for the button was about 6 inches away from the other part of the shorts. Dad wont really care. Everyone puts on a few pounds when they are not stressed.
A few hours later, I heard the doorbell ring. I wobbled over to answer it, to find my dad standing in the doorway, carrying his luggage from his summer-long 'round-the-world cruise.
"How was it?" i asked. He said nothing but stared at my gut.
"Looks like you have been eating a bit much..." he said casually.
"Nope, Just the same as I always do" I assured him.
"Come with me" he said. He walked down the hall into the bathroom, as I wobbled behind him. First he stepped onto the scale. It flashed 164 in red digital numbers. He ushered me to step on. I did, and I saw 256 flash in red digital numbers.
"You have been eating quite a bit..." trailed my father, "you have gained over 60 pounds in three months". He lifted up my shirt as more flab flowed out, coming to a halt hanging over my shorts. He grabbed a handful, though there was still quite a bit of fat hanging. "You weigh much too much". He walked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen. I followed him, not keeping an eye off my stretch marks. He stopped, dead in his tracks. He turned around and looked at my gut again. "No wonder, there is no food at all in this kitchen. And it looks as if you spent all of the emergency money I gave you in case anything should happen when I am gone on food". I thought about the candy bars, the pizzas, the burgers, the fries, the chips, the Chinese food, the all-you-can-eat buffets, everything I had eaten in the past few months.
The thing was that I loved food. I dreamed of me eating food. I had never came across a food I hadn't liked; I ate it all. I loved the feeling of a full stomach, but continuing to eat through it. I loved playing with a roll of flab, thinking of all the donuts that made it. I didn't care what he said. I loved food, but I especially loved my belly.
College was only a few weeks away, and shopping for the right furniture was a breeze. I made sure I chose chairs that could hold over 300 pounds. Since I was a linebacker on my high school football team, I had very well defined biceps. I could easily bench 200. I had never developed my stomach muscles because coach told us not to. Linebackers need a key center of balance; something that could give them some easy weight. I made sure I bought clothes that were several sizes too big, but not big enough for my dad to notice.
College came around and I was moved into my new dorm. I had a roommate whose name was Chuck. Chuck and I were both around the same size, 250ish. But one thing I noticed about Chuck right away was that Chuck loved his belly just as much as I loved mine. Every night, he would play with his belly, weigh himself, and sometimes take pictures. Most college students had a mini-fridge, but Chuck bought himself a full size fridge. He snacked whenever he could. Chuck also walked around the dorm without a shirt on a lot, rubbing his gut, which contained a lot of stretch marks. We sparsely engaged in conversation, until the last night on campus until holiday break.
"First Semester is finally over" said Chuck with relief.
"Yeah..." I replied, "but...I...Wanted..."
"You wanted to do what?" Asked chuck while eating another donut.
"Well...I dont know how to say this but...I wanted my belly to get bigger" I said, relieved I finally said it. Chuck stared at me a while, as a smile appeared above his multiplying chins."I think I can help". He strolled over to me, grabbed my belly, and estimated how tall I was.
"I'd say you are about 6'2, and weigh around 260lbs." said chuck. How could he tell?
"How did you know?" I stammered.
"It took some practice" replied chuck, "I love fat, jiggly stomachs. If I could, I would major in it instead of advertisement. Anyhow, you would be larger if you did nothing but eat all break. For Christmas, eat as much as you can. Push past the limit if you really want to be big."
"Crap" I said. The seems stretched over my extended stomach. I slipped on the khaki shorts...but no matter how much I struggled with the button, it would not close. I sighed and looked into the mirror. You could see a beer gut sticking out from under the stretched shirt, and a pair of too-small shorts that would certainly not button up, for the button was about 6 inches away from the other part of the shorts. Dad wont really care. Everyone puts on a few pounds when they are not stressed.
A few hours later, I heard the doorbell ring. I wobbled over to answer it, to find my dad standing in the doorway, carrying his luggage from his summer-long 'round-the-world cruise.
"How was it?" i asked. He said nothing but stared at my gut.
"Looks like you have been eating a bit much..." he said casually.
"Nope, Just the same as I always do" I assured him.
"Come with me" he said. He walked down the hall into the bathroom, as I wobbled behind him. First he stepped onto the scale. It flashed 164 in red digital numbers. He ushered me to step on. I did, and I saw 256 flash in red digital numbers.
"You have been eating quite a bit..." trailed my father, "you have gained over 60 pounds in three months". He lifted up my shirt as more flab flowed out, coming to a halt hanging over my shorts. He grabbed a handful, though there was still quite a bit of fat hanging. "You weigh much too much". He walked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen. I followed him, not keeping an eye off my stretch marks. He stopped, dead in his tracks. He turned around and looked at my gut again. "No wonder, there is no food at all in this kitchen. And it looks as if you spent all of the emergency money I gave you in case anything should happen when I am gone on food". I thought about the candy bars, the pizzas, the burgers, the fries, the chips, the Chinese food, the all-you-can-eat buffets, everything I had eaten in the past few months.
The thing was that I loved food. I dreamed of me eating food. I had never came across a food I hadn't liked; I ate it all. I loved the feeling of a full stomach, but continuing to eat through it. I loved playing with a roll of flab, thinking of all the donuts that made it. I didn't care what he said. I loved food, but I especially loved my belly.
College was only a few weeks away, and shopping for the right furniture was a breeze. I made sure I chose chairs that could hold over 300 pounds. Since I was a linebacker on my high school football team, I had very well defined biceps. I could easily bench 200. I had never developed my stomach muscles because coach told us not to. Linebackers need a key center of balance; something that could give them some easy weight. I made sure I bought clothes that were several sizes too big, but not big enough for my dad to notice.
College came around and I was moved into my new dorm. I had a roommate whose name was Chuck. Chuck and I were both around the same size, 250ish. But one thing I noticed about Chuck right away was that Chuck loved his belly just as much as I loved mine. Every night, he would play with his belly, weigh himself, and sometimes take pictures. Most college students had a mini-fridge, but Chuck bought himself a full size fridge. He snacked whenever he could. Chuck also walked around the dorm without a shirt on a lot, rubbing his gut, which contained a lot of stretch marks. We sparsely engaged in conversation, until the last night on campus until holiday break.
"First Semester is finally over" said Chuck with relief.
"Yeah..." I replied, "but...I...Wanted..."
"You wanted to do what?" Asked chuck while eating another donut.
"Well...I dont know how to say this but...I wanted my belly to get bigger" I said, relieved I finally said it. Chuck stared at me a while, as a smile appeared above his multiplying chins."I think I can help". He strolled over to me, grabbed my belly, and estimated how tall I was.
"I'd say you are about 6'2, and weigh around 260lbs." said chuck. How could he tell?
"How did you know?" I stammered.
"It took some practice" replied chuck, "I love fat, jiggly stomachs. If I could, I would major in it instead of advertisement. Anyhow, you would be larger if you did nothing but eat all break. For Christmas, eat as much as you can. Push past the limit if you really want to be big."