This was supposed to be part one of a commission, but the commission backed out. If anyone would like me to continue it, please send me a message and we can talk about it.
Freshman Year- Start of the First Semester
"Hey Steve! So glad you made the pledge here! You'll be sharing a room with Brad. He may be a linebacker, and a junior, but he's a pretty good guy. The two of you should get along fine. Don't worry about him trying to haze you. That's not his style."
Doug led me into a room with two beds and desks in it. One side was done up with Green bay Packers memorabilia and had a large screen TV on the desk. The bed was neatly made and everything seemed extremely orderly except the dirty laundry which was not all in its hamper, with most just hanging from it instead. The other side of the room was completely blank.
"I'll let you start getting moved in. Dinner's at 6:30, though only half of us actually eat here. The other half usually eats at the dining halls or the Midwestern buffet. For the next few nights, while moving in, might be better for you to eat here but it's up to you. The other guys, at least the Midwestern crowd, can get a little intense in their competitions." Doug turned to leave. "Well, I'll see you later. Brad should be back in a couple hours. Until then, have fun."
Doug shut the door but quickly opened it back up. "Oh, Doug's usually cool with people playing his games, but don't mess with his Madden games or you won't make it to Sophomore year." With that, he shut the door again and left again.
Steve spent the next few hours putting his bed together, getting his clothes into the dresser, and arranging his desk. He had just finished when the door opened and this huge guy came in. Steve wasn't short by any means, standing at 6'2", but this guy had almost a head on him and by the looks of it, at least 200 pounds on Steve's 190.
"Oh hey! You must Steve! I'm Brad. Frank told me you were rooming with me." Steve shook his proffered hand. "I see you're quickly making yourself at home. This all your stuff or is more coming later?"
"More's coming later. A lot of my stuff was in storage or at my parent's place so it will be coming this weekend."
"Hey, a bunch of us are heading to the Midwestern buffet. Wanna come?"
"Doug mentioned something about you guys that go there having intense competitions. What did he mean?"
"Come on and see for yourself. Obviously, being a restaurant, we're not competing in skateboarding." He laughed.
"Oh, haha Smart Guy! This buffet any good?"
"Well, it's best in the area, that's for certain. Then again, it's the only one in the area. Since you're new here Freshman, I'll drive."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Just lead the way doofus! And you know freshmen aren't allowed cars."
The frat house was only a five minute drive from the buffet. A very comfy five minutes in Brad's spacious truck. "A big truck for a big man," as he put it.
Even though the sign at reception said to wait to be seated, Brad led Steve right past it. "We're here so often, they have a spaced reserved for us on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays for dinner. It's where a good chunk of those who belong to this group go. Almost more than the total needed for books each semester," he chuckles.
Brad led the way to a room right off the main dining area and right next to the buffet line. At least 18 guys were already there, half were obviously gym rats or athletes, wearing tank tops or jerseys to show off their buff physiques, while three were fat guys, also in jerseys or tank tops but one
had a button up shirt that was already looking slightly strained, that rivaled or possibly even surpassed Brad in weight. The rest were average guys, nothing spectacular about them, for the most part.
"Hey Brad! You made it! Who's the new guy?" Yelled possibly the buffest guy Steve had ever seen from the other end of the table. He was wearing a tank top that was stretched over his bulging pecs.
"Yo! Craig! You been taking drugs? I didn't think it was possible for you to get bigger otherwise!" Laughed Brad.
"Man, screw you! You know I don't believe in those shortcuts!" He started counting all the heads. "Okay, that's 20 people. 6 of you are new. Let's get the introductions out of the way for the newbies."
The next few minutes were spent getting everyone introduced before Craig once again started speaking. He was clearly the leader of this event.
"Now, any of you new guys had explained to you how our little contest here works?" One of the fat guys, the one in the jersey, nodded, as did two of the jocks. Craig nodded to the jock next to him. "Logan, since I explained it to you, would you explain it to the others?"
The guy next to Craig, Logan, was obviously a jock too, but looked to be half his size. Still at least 15 pounds on Steve, but still small compared to Craig. He, unlike Craig, had on a Miami Dolphins jersey that was slightly tight, but with it's size, was nothing to brag about.
"As you can guess, this is an eating contest, but it's not like others you may have seen." Logan stated, his deep baritone voice actually rattling all the glasses on the table as he spoke. "Here, we don't go by who can eat the most or who can eat a set amount the fastest. No, here, we see who can feed their partner the most plates. Only one guy in each pair will be counted. Once that guy can no longer eat anything, only then will the other guy be allowed to eat. Craig for instance, will be feeding me, so he won't be allowed to eat until I can't eat anymore and only the plates that I clear off will be counted. Also, anyone who is being fed who throws up will be disqualified this competition and severely penalized at the rest of the week's competitions. Lastly, the salad and soup bar is off limits for the purpose maximizing the weight and capacity that each plate should fill."
Logan looked back at Craig who nodded. "Now since six people graduated last year and a couple groups have switched partners this year, we'll take a few minutes to decide who will be the competitors and who will be the encouragers this year."
Steve went slack-jawed. "What kind of contest is this?!" He quietly hissed. "You want me to stuff you to capacity or whatever the hell this is?!"
Brad looked down towards where his feet would be if he could see them over his gut. "Actually, I'm already pushing the weight limit coach allows. I get any bigger and I risk losing my scholarship. I was actually hoping you would compete for me?" He glanced up at Steve, his soft brown eyes holding a slight amount of desperation in them.
Steve felt himself soften inside a little. "And just what do the winners get each time?"
"The winners each round get to eat free at the next contest. Every month, the top three eaters have a party thrown for them, themed in any way they want. And at the end of the semester, the overall winners get all their books paid for for the next semester plus get a free meal plan, unless they are graduating, in which case, they get a cash prize."
Steve thought for a moment. "What do I get out of this?"
Brad thought for a moment but couldn't think of anything.
"How about this, I do this for you, I let you feed me in this contest and you do all my frat house chores for me, time permitting, I wouldn't want to jeopardize your education or football. And if time doesn't permit you to do my chores, then I get to play any of your games whenever I want. Even Madden."
"Uh-uh! No! No one plays my Madden games! I have the perfect teams set up and am so close to getting all the trophies on there!"
"Then no deal and I walk back to the frat house now!" Steve turned to leave.
"Have all the competitors been decided?" Yelled Craig .
"One minute!" Yelled Brad back before turning back to Steve. "Please! I won last semester! They'll never let me live it down if I can't compete at all now!" Desperation no longer just in his eyes, but in his voice too.
"Then chores and games or I don't compete!"
Brad glanced back and forth between Steve and everyone else who was now watching them and waiting to know what was going. Steve turned to leave forcing Brad to grab his arm to stop him. "Okay! Okay! You win! I do your chores and you can play my games!"
Brad sighed. "Yes! Even Madden! Though I draw the line at doing your laundry. That you do yourself!"
"Fair enough." He held out his hand for Brad to shake. "Then it looks like we have a deal." He exclaimed as Brad shook, sighing in relief.
Together they headed back to the table. "Okay. Sorry for the holdup. Were ready now."
"Got yourself a real winner there, don't you Brad?" Chuckled one of the fat guys who rivaled Brad's size.
"Have you lost weight Derek? Your shirt is looking loose."
Derek scowled at them.
"Now, now. Logan, you have the score sheets ready to record the teams and competitors?"
Logan grabbed a clipboard from the table and one by one, recorded the teams and the competitor of the team.
Once all the teams were declared, it was again Craig's turn. "Okay. Everything is settled. It looks like all the teams have been declared and we once again have 10 teams. It is time to start! All competitors, have a seat! All feeders, remember! No eating until your competitor is done or you will be disqualified for the remainder of the week! Now, BEGIN!"
The ten feeders ran to get plates for their competitors. Within a minute, most had returned with large plates covered with food. Brad brought two plates back, one covered with spaghetti and meat sauce and the other had potatoes au gratin, green beans, mac and cheese, and several large slices of ham.
"Are you actually supposed to feed this to me or can I eat it myself?"
"You can eat it yourself, but if you start having trouble, let me know and I'll take over feeding you."
What have I gotten myself into?" grumbled Steve as he started shoveling in the spaghetti.
The first plate went fast, but the second plate was much slower. By the third plate, Steve had a noticeable bulge in his gut.
"Ugh! I've never... *urp*... Been so... *groan*... stuffed... before!"
"Come on Steve! That was only two plates! Even Lewis," Brad pointed at the smallest guy at the table who looked like a stick, "is on his third plate! You aren't going to let a STICK out eat you, are you?!"
Steve looked over at Lewis. "Ugh. Fine." He tried to lean forward to get to the third plate but leaned back before getting halfway, clutching his stuffed gut.
"Here, let me help!" Brad leaned forward and grabbed the plate. One forkful at a time, Brad put the fork to Steve's mouth where he slowly ate them. Gradually slowing, even with Brad's help, Steve pushed Brad's hand away with the third plate still only half eaten.
"No... more." He groaned. He was so bloated that his shirt had started to rise up.
"Damn." Brad also groaned, placing the plate back on the table. "We're out." He announced.
"And we have our first dropout this semester!" Shouted Craig from the head of the table. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" He laughed.
"Watch it Craig! You may be strong, but I can still crush you beneath my fat ass!"
"I'd like to see you try!" They both laughed.
Moments later, The Stick's, as many had already started calling the skinniest contestant, dropped out.
One by one, the other contestants started dropping out. Many positions tied since it based on number of cleared plates.
"Three contestants left!" Shouted Craig even as Logan started slowing down on his fifth plate.
Finally, only Logan and the fat guy in the button up shirt to compete. Logan was on his sixth plate and the severe bloat along with him eating VERY slowly showed where he was. The fat guy on the other hand was about to pop a button and sure enough, a few bites after Logan dropped his fork and pushed Craig's hand away when he tried to help him continue, that very button popped off and flew across the table.
"Looks like we have our winner with seven plates! Congrats Larry and Tom! Now, Contestants, feel free to rest and digest while the rest of us finally get our food!"
The ten feeders each got up to get their own food. Brad came back with a plate of spaghetti for himself, though not as large as the one he brought Steve, and a plate of salad smothered in ranch. Through his food haze, he was surprised to see Craig with two plates loaded with burgers, fries, and pizzas. How's he not a fatass like Brad? he wondered.
Several minutes of conversation, eating, and belly rubs later, the group started to disband.
"Come on." Brad pulled Steve up after he had finished his own food. He walked Steve out to the car and even once back at the frat house, had to guide him upstairs to their room.
As Brad gently laid Steve down on his bed, Steve started coming round. Carefully, he propped himself up against the head of the bed.
"I've never been that.. *burp*... full in my life!" He groaned as he leaned back a little further. "And you want me to do that three times a week?"
"Ummm.... Four, actually."
Steve's head rolled back. "Four times? I think we might need to renegotiate our agreement."
"I think you're right. I hadn't thought with your build that you'd be such a light weight at the table. We need to work on that."
"Oh? And just how do you plan that? And what do I get in exchange?"
"I'll owe you some major favors. Anything you ask that won't interfere with my classes or football. As for how, you're a freshman so you have a required meal plan. Any day that there isn't a contest, we'll meet there and I'll push you to capacity and then some!"
"Dude. I like being fit. I've never been over my current weight and hadn't planned on going over it unless it was with muscle. And now you're asking me to throw that away? I don't think playing some games and you doing my chores is quite worth that."
"It is a big thing I'm asking, so if you want something, I'm you're servant! Need beer? I know where to get the best stuff! A tutor? I know people in every field! Or at least could find someone who knows someone in your field! Any new games? I'll buy them! I'll make this worth your while, I promise!"
Steve started to doze off. "I'll have to...*Yaaawwwwnnnn*... think about it."
Brad started massaging Steve's still swollen gut. "Ahh. That feels good." He moaned before starting to snore.
Freshman Year- End of the First Semester
The nine groups had met up at the Midwest buffet for their final contest of the semester. One of the groups, composed of two jocks, had dropped out halfway through the semester when one had a family emergency.
"Okay everyone! Welcome to the final contest of the semester! As it stands, Tom and Larry are in the lead and at this point, there is no overall beating them, so they will get the prize at the start of next semester, but we still have a chance to change the order for some of the rest of us." Announced Craig.
He spent the next few minutes reading the order of the teams. Craig and a now much beefier Logan were in second but were still almost ten wins behind Tom and Larry. Brad was extremely disappointed because he and Steve were in eighth place. They had only managed three wins the whole semester and those were only when Logan and Larry weren't there and all three had been in the last couple weeks.
"Hey, don't look so down Big Guy!" Steve elbowed Brad in the gut. The football player, through diet and exercise, had lost almost 30 pounds in the span of the four month semester whereas Steve had put on quite the gut. Because of his exercise regime, most of the fat had developed in quite the ball gut, though the rest of his body had gotten a bit of a coating too. Thanks to his agreement with Brad, he hadn't needed to buy himself a new wardrobe and Brad would cover his books for next semester anyways.
"We may not have won this time, but we might next time!"
"Yeah, keep dreaming Small Fry. If I had been competing, we would have won. I shouldn't have pushed you to join so quickly. I should have let you decide if you wanted to and not made it about me." He lowered his head away from Steve only to have Steve pull it back.
"Who said? I feel like a winner having gotten to know you this semester and becoming friends. Besides," Steve hefted his gut and let it bounce back down, "I think this thing is growing on me."
Brad rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever. But are you sure this is what you want?"
Steve looked directly into Brad's eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure! And I want even more next semester. So do we have a deal for next semester?" He grinned at Brad.
Brad looked back into Steve's eyes for a moment before smiling and shaking his head. "Fine, you win. We continue this next semester. But let's get through this contest first. Your record is five plates. A big improvement over your original two and a half."
Steve chuckled. "See? There's hope for me yet!"
Brad also chuckled. "Maybe. Just maybe."
"Okay Contestants, take your seats!" Called Craig.
The nine contestants all sat down in their seats while their feeders stood next to them.
"Larry, Tom. You two are exhibition this time, so no need to push yourself and you can eat while the contestants are eating too, Tom."
Logan's baritone voice sounded from the head of the table. "Okay Feeders! On your mark! Get set! Go!"
All the feeders headed off to the buffet line. Craig and Brad returned at the same time, but Steve was only interested in the plates Brad carried. On one plate was a pile of spaghetti, just like the very first contest, and the other had on it mashed potatoes, turkey, and stuffing, all smothered in gravy.
"Looks good!" Steve exclaimed as he dug into the spaghetti. In the amount of time it had originally taken him to eat one plate, Steve had them both wiped clean.
Brad quickly went back to fetch two more plates, coming back this time with mac and cheese, fettuccine alfredo, and a mound of steamed veggies on one plate and three loaded double hamburgers with fries on the other.
"Whoa, Brad, you sure you meant to grab so much? I may not be able to get in two more plates with that much this soon!"
"Oh, you will. I'll make sure of it."
Brad leaned over and started to rub Steve's gut even though it wasn't even close to being bloated yet.
"Hmmmm..." He moaned before shoving the first bite of the first burger into his mouth.
Even with his newly expanded capacity, Steve's gut had started to bloat some by the end of the third plate. The very edges of the stretchmarks he had acquired during the semester were starting to appear as the shirt got stretched and started to rise.
Brad continued to rub Steve's gut as he started on the mac and cheese. With each bite, his shirt rose a smidge more. It wasn't long until the fourth plate was clear, though at a slower pace then the previous three plates. His shirt had fully risen an inch when Brad left to get two more plates.
The third trip brought forth a mountain of ribs and almost an entire cheesecake, but with different toppings on different areas.
"Wow. That's a lot of cheesecake Brad! Same with the ribs! You better be ready for more rubbing!" Steve chuckled.
Brad chuckled as he again started rubbing Steve's now bloated gut. The rib bones slowly started disappearing onto one of the old plates. Steve had greatly slowed down as the last of the ribs disappeared into his gut.
Groaning in extreme discomfort, Steve started squirming and reaching down trying to undo his pants. "Brad, why didn't you remind me to wear my sweatpants?"
"Don't ask me! We stuff you every night. Why would you wear anything but sweatpants when we go to eat?"
"help me out! My buttons stuck!"
Brad reached under and slightly lifted Steve's bloated gut. Carefully maneuvering his hands to minimize any gut shaking, Brad struggled to unbutton the jeans. After much struggling, he finally got the button undone and was greeted with Steve's gut swelling another inch right into his face.
"Ahhh! That feels much better!"
"I expect it does!" Laughed Brad, sitting up. "Time for the cheesecake. Need help there?"
Steve nodded and placed Brad's hand on his gut to rub it even as he used the other one to start placing bites of cheesecake in his mouth.
Not for the first time in the past few weeks, Steve managed to beat two others before he took the last bite of cheesecake and leaned back, his jaw slack and eyes glazed over.
Craig tallied each person's scores for the semester. Of course, had Larry been competing, he would have easily won with ten plates, but as it was, Logan finished in first with eight plates, his tank top revealing almost two inches above his belly button.
"And without further adue, the results!" Yelled Craig.
One by one, the teams were called out.
"Hey," cheered Brad, "we came in 7th Steve! Considering you were in last nonstop for the first three weeks, that's amazing! Maybe we do have hope for you yet!"
Brad patted Steve on the shoulder, nearly knocking him out of his chair. He quickly grabbed him to stabilize him. "Whoa! Sorry there Small Fry! Don't want you popping!"
"For Tom and Larry, since you two are seniors with one semester left each, your prize money for your books and meal plans will be here at the beginning of next semester! Just ask for Manager Sean. And now, all feeders may eat!"
Brad and the other's all headed for the buffet line while the contestants all dozed at the table.
The feeders all ate their fill. As the last one finished, Craig addressed the table one last time.
"This is our last meeting this semester, so everyone, HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!"
The group started to dissipate. "Come on." Brad carefully pulled Steve up. Steve's balance was still completely off from his overly-stuffed gut, so Brad had to guide him back to the car. He started to come to as they pulled back into the frat house.
"So," he asked, "no more stuffing sessions since it's summer, right?"
Brad turned and smiled like he knew something Steve didn't. "You're staying over the summer, right?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah, you know that."
"This frat house has killer parties all summer! Even if we can't stuff you with food, beer won't be in short supply! Even to fill your growing gut!"
Steve smiled back. "Then let's get this party started!"
Brad carefully guided Steve into the house to rest before a summer of partying.
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