The Life of a True Fatty - Part Two ā The College Years
The world slowly exhaled after a year and a half of lockdowns, masks, and Zoom classes. By fall 2021, UNLVās campus buzzed back to lifeāfrat parties thumping again, tailgates firing up, people hugging without hesitation (mostly). Everything felt almost normal. Almost.
Tyler, though, was anything but the same. The pandemic had been kind to his appetite and cruel to his waistline. Isolated in his off-campus housing, DoorDash became his lifeline: endless waves of burgers, wings, tacos, and milkshakes delivered straight to his couch. He lifted sporadicallyāmaybe once a week if the mood struckābut mostly he lounged, ate, scrolled feeder forums, and jerked off to the slow, delicious swell of his own body. By the time in-person classes resumed, heād packed on another fifteen pounds, tipping the scale at 230. The once-chiseled abs were long buried under a plush layer of pudge that spread across his chest, belly, and love handles. His arms still carried some muscle, but everything felt softer, heavier, more inviting to touch. He caught his reflection in lecture hall windows and grinned. He looked goodāsturdy, thick, unmistakably bigger.
He returned to campus that fall determined to reclaim the social life the virus had stolen. Freshman year had ended abruptly, sophomore year had been a lonely haze of solo feasts and FaceTime hookups that fizzled when guys saw the full extent of his gains. Now, as a junior (finally switching to a business major after kinesiology proved too math-heavy), he had time, freedom, and a ravenous hunger for both food and fun.
The problem? His old crew had scattered. Chris had moved back to Bulgaria to train for some amateur strongman competitions. Most of his party friends were buried in pre-med or engineering workloads. Tyler found himself wandering campus alone, belly jiggling slightly under his stretched-out hoodie, wondering where he fit.
Then, one crisp September afternoon, he walked past a row of recruitment booths outside the student union. A short, slim guy with a megawatt smile and a clipboard waved him over. āWhatās up, big dawg? You look like exactly the type we need in our chapter.ā
Tyler glanced at the banner: Delta Chi. Heād always been curious about Greek lifeā the brotherhood, the endless partiesābut figured he was too much of a lone wolf. The recruiter, Thad, leaned in conspiratorially. āJust come to our rush event tonight. I promise youāll have a blast. Free beer, free food, good vibes.ā
Tyler showed up. He stayed all night.
Two months later, he was a pledged Delta Chi brother, and by winter he was initiated. Rush week had sealed it: Tyler was the undisputed life of the party. The dumb, lovable ex-jock whoād shotgun a beer, then sled down the staircase on a trash-can lid mid-rager. Whoād out-eat and out-drink anyone dumb enough to challenge him. The brothers invented a team game they called āThe Feastāāsplit into squads, each had to demolish a thirty-rack of beer, a fifth of cheap vodka, and a massive Costco pizza while racing to finish first. No vomiting allowed; that disqualified your whole team. Tyler was always the first pick. āPut the big man on our side,ā theyād say. āHeāll eat the pizza alone if we need him to.ā
He belonged. For the first time, he felt like he had a pack.
Frat life was a dreamāuntil it wasnāt. Classes slipped. Assignments piled up. Midterms loomed like threats. Stress crept in, and Tyler had only one reliable cure: more food, more parties, more everything. Late-night Whataburger runs after bar close. All-you-can-eat buffets before tailgates. By spring 2022, another fifteen pounds had settled in. His face rounded out further, cheeks fuller, a proper double chin emerging when he laughed. His belly pushed insistently against every shirt, hanging just a little over his belt. The brothers noticed.
āYouāre looking a little chubby there, bro.ā
āCareful, manāall that beerās starting to show.ā
āBig Tylerās turning into Huge Tyler.ā
They teased, but it was affectionate, ribbing from guys who loved him. And Tyler? He soaked it up. Every comment sent a thrill straight to his groin. He embraced the role: the goofy, slightly dim, increasingly chubby brother whoād do anything for a laugh and a second helping.
The years blurred. He changed majors againāto communication studies, something vague enough to coast through. Failed classes got retaken. Hangovers became routine. The gains kept coming, steady and unstoppable.
By spring 2025, graduation loomed. Tyler crossed the stage at 330 poundsāan obese, unmistakable spectacle. His moobs had fully developed, soft and heavy, jiggling under his too-tight gown. His belly, a genuine apron now, hung low over his waistband, swaying with each step. He waddled more than walked, thighs rubbing, arms swinging out from his sides to accommodate the width.
He was far and away the fattest in the chapter. The brothers never let him forget it.
āYo, Tubby, you need help up the stairs?ā
āSave some cake for the rest of us, porker.ā
āJesus, Tyler, how much pizza did you eat this week?ā
The teasing had evolved from playful to relentless, but Tyler loved every word. It made him hard. It made him feel seen. Heād become exactly what heād fantasized about back in high school: a true fat man, lazy and indulgent, a walking monument to appetite.
His days revolved around comfort. Gym? Forgotten years ago. He spent afternoons sprawled on the frat-house couch in stretched-out sweatpants, belly spilling out, shirt riding up as he binged sitcoms and whatever feeders overnighted himāwhole cheesecakes, family-sized bags of chips, liters of soda. His room was a glorious disaster: towers of empty pizza boxes, crumpled fast-food bags, soda cans forming precarious sculptures on the floor. Clothes in piles, most too small now anyway.
Dating had shifted. The muscular guys he used to chase lasted a few weeks of flirty texts, maybe a hookup if they didnāt mind the size at first. Then excuses: āBusy with work,ā āNot sure about long-distance,ā āJust not feeling it.ā Tyler knew the truth. Heād gotten too fat for them. The rejection stung, but it also ignited himāproof of how far heād come, how undeniable his transformation was. Heād stroke himself afterward, replaying their fading interest, the way their eyes had lingered on his belly before they ghosted.
Graduation day arrived. He squeezed into the robe, the fabric pulling taut across his gut as he shuffled across the stage. Diploma in hand, he grinned for the photos, belly proudly protruding. No one from high school would recognize the 190-pound muscle twunk heād been. He barely recognized himselfāand that thrilled him more than anything.
Heād done it. Lazy, not the sharpest, perpetually hungry, but heād graduated. As he posed with his brothers, their arms slung around his wide back, he felt a swell of pure happiness.
The future stretched ahead, wide open and uncertain. He had no job lined up, no real plan. But for the first time, that didnāt scare him.
He was huge. He was happy. And he was just getting startedā¦
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