chapter 14: a decreasing gap

The worst part of school being back was not seeing coach as much. The second worst part was that it put a damper on my gaining. But we made it work, hiding our relationship as best we could.

As the months crept on, so did our weight, and I was slowly but surely catching up to him. With each week, mounds of food entered my stomach, converting into more plush. Coach made sure I always had enough shakes and sweets stocked in my dorm. The weekends at his place became a time of lust and gluttony, two sins that were one and the same for us.

Another aspect was clothes. I had long switched to stuff coach had outgrown, whereby some of the smaller items had gotten rather tight. By the time some of his older shirts were failing to fully conceal my expanding belly, he passed down some bigger things.

But I couldn't detach myself from all the smaller clothes, hanging onto a button-down of his, wearing it at his apartment. Little by little, the fabric of the shirt strained harder, my gut distorting the lines on it, pushing the buttons apart farther and farther until-
during a feeding session, one popped off. I was too fat to even fit into his old stuff anymore.

Coach developed as well, growing fatter at a slower pace than me, keeping his pig belly well fed. However, the fatter I got, the less invested we were in his size, and the more we were working on me.

The time came when, on a stormy late fall day, I reached 130kg. Now only 6kg short of coach, it was harder to see who was heavier. Sure, 6 kilograms is not a small amount, but my feeder had years and years of extra muscle build-up over me, and I'm sure some of that persisted under his bulk. His belly, while massive, still held a spherical shape, looking like it had just kept inflating.

Whereas I had only worked out for a few months, accumulating some brawn, but not enough to ever make me look athletic, like a power lifter. No, my body was pure fat and flab, bulging, spilling, sagging, a belly like a doughy cushion, hanging down, resting on my crotch when I sat, covering it completely.

And yet I still needed more. My body yearned for it. I couldn't stop. Every shake, donut, fast food meal, piece of cake, home cooking that coach put in front of me, I couldn't resist. Why did it feel so good?

And the sex! The sex just got better. Like all the lard was giving us extra energy. Coach loved feeding me, watching me struggle to swallow all the sweets he'd shove into my mouth. Rubbing my belly, grabbing my flab, teasing me about how fat I've become, how I'd outweigh him soon if I didn't do something about it. Yet that only egged me on further, intensifying my greed at the thought of surpassing this huge man.

And that day was not too far away.