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The Condition - Part 1
🕑 Added 2017-10-13 00:56:02 +0000 UTCIt started slowly at first. Everyone talks about the freshman 15 and I was hardly the only one to get it. We’re all young and free from our parents for the first time in our lives, and most of us would rather eat junk food than anything else. Plus that was mostly what the dorm cafeteria provided, so it’s not like we had much choice.
But then the freshman 15 became the sophomore 50, and then the junior 75. By then I knew something was wrong since I’d cut out all junk and started exercising but I was still gaining weight at an alarming rate. That’s when I schedule an appointment with the campus doctor to figure out what was wrong.
Getting to that point took a while though. I guess if I was honest with myself I would have booked an appointment a lot sooner, but there’s this period of denial you go through first, you know? Like what’s happening is just so impossible, and I was probably just being too lazy and eating too much. I never thought that I could be sick, that there might actually be something wrong with me.
I went away to college when I was 18. I’d skipped ahead a year of high school, so I was younger than almost everyone else there. I was pretty average, maybe 5’10’’ or so and average build, about 175 pounds. I kept up in gym class all throughout high school, although I never really did any organized sports. You wouldn’t call me a jock, but I wasn’t quite a nerd. Like I said, average.
My freshmen year was like everyone else’s, I guess. I woke up, went to class, took part in campus events, I ate whatever they fed me, and then I did exams. I didn’t really notice much until the very last month of classes when I felt like my jeans were getting a tad uncomfortable. I weighed myself for the first time in almost a year and found that I’d shot up to almost 190 pounds.
But then again, I wasn’t the only one. My friend Kevin was in the same boat (although he was significantly heavier than I was to begin with so it wasn’t quite as noticeable), and there were plenty of other people in my dorm that had packed it on. I didn’t think much of it, and after exams I went out to buy a few new pants and that was it.
Or so I thought. I came back for my sophomore year and found that the jeans I’d bought a few months ago were already giving me that now familiar constricted feeling. I also noticed that I’d gone from having a pretty flat stomach to having a definite paunch, and my face wasn’t nearly as chiseled. I even looked like I was developing a double chin.
My friend Kevin was less than supportive. “Hey, Darren! Looks like you gained another 15 over the summer,” he said with a guffaw, his own jowly face wobbling as he laughed.
Kevin was, and still is, an uber geek. His life revolved around food, classes, homework, and his computer. Naturally, he was a comp sci major while I was a biology major. We got along pretty well though, so we shacked up after our first year, often spending out free hours playing video games and watching TV in our dorm.
If I’m honest, he was a bit of a slob but his other qualities made up for it. Qualities I was having a hard time remembering after our reunion.
“Haha, very funny. It actually sucks since now I gotta go to the mall for another pair of jeans,” I griped, to which Kevin just smirked.
“Or, you could say fuck jeans and spend your last night as a free man playing Dungeon Spelunker 5 with me before the semester officially starts.”
His offer was tempting. Too tempting. “Oh, fine, I’ll go tomorrow,” I said, to which we then fist-bumped.
We spent that night, like many others, playing video games and eating pizza. It did not help my burgeoning waistline, but I wouldn’t realize how bad I’d get until a few months from then.
I woke up, stretched, and padded my way to the public dorm bathrooms in nothing but my underpants. We were all in the middle of midterms, so it was hardly out of the ordinary. Everyone was far too stressed out to care about tiny things like modesty.
After emptying myself of last night’s mountain dew, I went to the sink to wash my teeth. My reflection wasn’t exactly flattering. Despite having a solid 8 hours of sleep I still looked tired. That and my figure had clearly gone to pot, given the pot that had certainly replaced my once trim stomach. On top of that, I suddenly noticed these angry red marks that seemed to surround my waist and dove down beneath the hem of my boxers - boxers which had also become nearly skin tight in the few short months since I purchased them.
These were concerns, yes, but I had far larger concerns - like my calculus midterm just a few short hours away. The plan was to get some breakfast and then review my notes for the last hour before the test. I went back to my room and started to get dressed. Like my boxers, everything had gotten uncomfortably tight but manageable. Then I got to my jeans.
It was impossible. No matter how much I sucked it in, twisted, or contorted, there was simply no way I could close the button. And since it was midterms I’d left my normal laundry routine slide and these were my last clean pair.
Kevin was still asleep, him not being a morning person generally and but also having finagled his schedule so he never had to be up before noon. I was jealous, but at this point, I was mostly freaking out.
I poked the large but squishy lump that slept in the bed next to mine. “Hey! Wake up!”
His snoring was interrupted by a violent snort, and then some quiet murmuring, but he didn’t wake up. So I poked harder and tried not to think about how far my finger sunk in despite the blanket. “Hey! I said wake up!”
“Wha- what? What time is it?”
“It’s 9. I need your pants.”
“What?” Kevin asked, but I knew he was conscious now at least.
“Your pants. Mine don’t fit.”
“Well mine won’t fit you either…” he trailed off, so I shook him to make sure he wasn’t falling back asleep.
“I know, but they’ll at least button up and that’s all I care about right now. Which one of these are clean?” I held up two pairs of jeans that I’d found in his dresser.
He peered at me, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and then pointed. “They’re both clean, but the one on the right is a bit smaller.”
I slipped into the rightmost pair and found that while they may be a smaller pair that Kevin owns, his pants were still way larger than mine. It felt like I was wearing a tent and I could pull the waist a good 8 inches from the furthest part of my paunch, but it’d have to do. I grabbed my belt and cinched it tight, bunching the loose fabric at the back, and did the buckle. I looked like a formerly obese hobo, but it’d keep the campus police from being called on me. At least he was roughly the same inseam.
Even though it was a constant fight to keep my pants from falling down, I managed to make it to the exam without too much incident. Afterward I had time to wonder at how enormous these pants were. Curious, I checked the waist size in the bathroom: size 44. Kevin was a big boy, but I had never been able to put a number on it before.
Little did I know I’d blow past that number in barely a year.
“C’mon Dare, you have to come to the party tonight. It’s the end of semester blowout! Everyone will be there!”
I sighed before turning from my psychology textbook. “For the third time, I’m well aware of this, but I still have one more exam I need to write tomorrow,” I said, and it was true. Much to my chagrin, branching into the “less pure” sciences meant that I didn’t have all my exams early in December like normal, and my psychology elective had scheduled its exam on the very last day - coincidentally the day chosen for the Science faculty’s end of term bash.
“Besides, I don’t have anything to wear - I still need to buy new pants and all my laundry is in the wash,” I countered, but Kevin waved away my excuses.
“Forget it man, you can just wear some of my stuff. It practically fits you now,” Kevin commented, and although he meant it as simply stating a fact he’d hope would encourage me to go, inwardly I winced. We’d been sharing clothes more and more often as the semester progressed, and what started out as ridiculously loose pants had slowly begun to fit better and better until now they almost fit like a glove. I still didn’t think of myself as big as Kevin, but there was mounting evidence we were (almost) the same size.
Evidence I ignored in favor of more pressing concerns, like finals. But at the same time, it was my last exam, it was my elective, I’d already studied for a week prior, and it was later in the afternoon. So long as I didn’t drink so much I was hungover I should be fine.
“Oh fine, whatever, but gimme the neat shirt with the dragon on it,” I said. Might as well look cool for the party. Kevin beamed and searched through his clean laundry pile, which was remarkably similar to his dirty laundry pile only it smelled like fabric softener rather than weeklong pizza crumbs and BO.
The shirt was only a little big. Kevin’s jeans fit well, although I did have to use his belt to do it up. For his part, it seemed that Kevin had gained a few over the semester as well since I noticed his gut was hanging over the end of his jeans a little further than usual. Not that he cared at all, or if he did he never showed it.
About half an hour later we lumbered up to a house that had been rented out by several of the Science Student Society board members. It was an older Victorian style house, a little run down, but the party planners were top notch since the whole place was done up in Christmas lights and streamers with loud music audible even from the streets. Kevin and I entered, greeted a few classmates, and then made a beeline for the keg.
Two hours later and my promise not to drink too much had gone out the window. I was roaring drunk along with everyone else. At one point pizza was served, and then Kevin ordered another one an hour later since he was still hungry (Kevin always seemed to be hungry). Even as the party wound down he was drunkenly trying to convince me to order a third pizza, complaints of my burgeoning waistline falling on deaf ears.
Eventually the party wound down and we stumbled our way home, Kevin and I bursting through our dorm room door and immediately falling on our messy floor, giggling hysterically. Then I felt a hand on my stomach from behind, which then began to climb up to my chest and back down again. In my heavily inebriated state it took me a few moments to realize that Kevin was actually groping me while we were laughing hysterically on the ground.
I had never really considered people in a sexual way before that point. I wasn’t asexual, I don’t think, just… shy. Or maybe naive was the better word for it. But I knew exactly what Kevin’s touch meant and it took me a few moments to consider it.
In the end, my thought process, impaired as it was, was simple: I liked Kevin, his touching felt good, and I was fine with him continuing. To encourage him I cuddled up closer on the floor, his belly pressed into my back, and ran my fingers on the back of his hands as they rubbed up and down my front. From behind me I could hear Kevin’s breathing pick up, which had the same effect on mine. When I felt his lips gently caress my neck I gasped and felt a rush in my groin, followed by Kevin grinding his body into mine while he slipped a hand under my shirt.
I expected him to run his hand up and down my front as he did while his hand was above the fabric, and by and large Kevin did, but every so often he’d stop and grab a handful of flesh between thumb and forefingers, or grab the roll of fat that had started to fall over the side of my jeans. It was odd, and yet I didn’t mine. Maybe it was the booze - actually I’m sure it was the booze - but at that moment I felt like it was less pointing out how fat I’d gotten as it was him appreciating my body.
I decided to give him a treat. I pushed myself up to my knees, turned around and took my shirt off, revealing every roll and stretch mark I now had. From the way Kevin’s round face beamed up at me I could tell he was very much enjoying the view. He then brought his hands up to caress my belly before going up to cup the two mounds of fat that had previously been my pecs, rubbing his thumb gently over my nipples. I gasped again, an obvious tent forming in my jeans (well, I guess technically Kevin’s jeans).
Kevin noticed, and one of his questing hands fell to rub the round nub that had appeared just behind my pant’s zipper. I gasped again, my free hand going back up to the breast that Kevin had relinquished to continue pinching the nipple there. They were hard, and I was hard, and this was so incredibly hot I thought I would burst.
And then I did, my cum filling the crotch of my (technically Kevin’s) jeans. We were both surprised: me for having just had my first sexual encounter with anyone, and Kevin for me cumming after a few drunken gropes.
Lucky for us I had only just turned twenty, so I stayed hard. We giggled again at my premature ejaculation, but then we both got up, Kevin removing his clothes as I did the same (and remembering to shut the door lest we provide a show for the entire dorm). It was dark but I could make out his soft curves in the dim light - the round, jutting belly, the full, perky butt, chubby arms, thick legs, and best of all, a thick dick nestled between them.
We dove onto Kevin’s bed, a tangle of limbs, and proceed to make out in that awkward, slobbery way that only two inexperienced and very drunk guys could. My hands explored his body, noting how it felt so similar to mine, so soft, and warm, and inviting. Our bellies were constantly together, and after a few minutes a sheen of sweat had formed between them allowing us to grind against one another with ease.
Our bodies weren’t all we were grinding. I could feel his hot dick pressing into mine and we drove our groins together for more of that wonderful friction. Soon I could feel a certain wetness in my crotch and I realized that Kevin may have cum. Then I brought a hand down and realized he hadn’t cum - it was all pre. The man was drooling like a leaky faucet, and the smell was driving me wild.
I started tugging on his cock, getting it all slick and making his heavy foreskin roll up and down his purple helmet as we continued to make out. His breath around my lips was coming faster and faster as I pumped his dick, eventually turning to grunts and moans. Then, with little other warning, he came in my hand, spewing as much actual cum as you’d expect from the amount he pre-cummed.
It covered his crotch, my hand, my crotch, and part of our bellies, but it was so hot we just kept making out even after his dick had stopped its last burbling spurt. His cock also stayed hard, and we spent the next hour bringing ourselves to orgasm after orgasm until we finally both fell asleep in each other's arms.
