by mrs momona, writing under the pseudonym “A.B.” © 2017
At some point in every guy’s life, he becomes aware of how he appears to others. All guys want to look their best. By the time he entered college, Nick had come to realize what he thought it took to make himself look good. He was just vain enough to be proud of his curly dark brown hair, big brown eyes with long lashes, and a cleft chin. He had a swarthy complexion, courtesy of his Italian ancestors, and a muscular torso, with deep full pecs and big upper arms and forearms and large round calves, the result of years of weightlifting. Nick was proud that he didn’t have a gut on him—his abs were covered by a layer of flab, but there was no bulging beer belly hanging over his belt, unlike some of his contemporaries.
But, there were things Nick had learned to do during his late teen years to appear at his best. Buy all his shirts in “tall” sizes. Look for relaxed fit pants and shorts and then be prepared to wait a while for them to be altered before he could wear them. Put his wallet and comb in the front pocket of his pants. Be prepared for the bottom hem of whatever shorts he bought to end below his knees and the lower part of his trousers legs to flap in the breeze when he walked.
Why? Well, Nick had a huge butt and thighs. At 5’7”, he had a stocky “fireplug” build with a wide upper body, a thick waist, and hefty hips as broad as his shoulders.. Viewed from the side, Nick’s stomach area appeared flat beneath his bulging pecs but his rear end ballooned out in a distended parabola shape, seeming to start above his obliques. Where they stuck out the farthest, his fat-padded mega-glutes formed a substantial shelf before they rounded back in to meet the back of his thighs. Each buttcheek was massively oblong, wide, full and jutted out an amazing distance from Nick’s body, as if candilevered outwards by a feat of DNA-based bio-engineering..
From being teased by the other guys, Nick learned that when he stood up after sitting, whatever shirt he was wearing had settled on top of the shelf of his butt, emphasizing the huge size of his rear end. So he bought “tall” shirts which hung down below his butt, thinking the extra cloth of the shirt would disguise his enormous behind. All it did, though, was to further call attention to his rear end—his buttcheeks looked like two elephants fighting in a circus tent as the long material of the shirt clung to each huge cheek emphasizing their roundness and constant motion as he moved.
Pants and shorts had to be bought in a “relaxed fit” waist size at least 8” bigger than his natural waist, because there was thus more room in the seat. His mom would have to take in the waist, but even then, his rear end packed the seat of whatever he was wearing. Shorts and pants made so big in the waist were cut big all over, so Nick’s shorts hung below his knees and the lower legs of his pants flapped as he walked. Because his pants fit so tightly across his distended butt, it was impossible for him to put his wallet in his back pocket—so into his front pocket it went. Plus, Nick felt that if he had been able to put his wallet in the back pocket, the bulge of his wallet would further draw attention to the bulging of his weather-balloon-sized buttcheeks. Of course he was mistaken—his fat behind was out of all proportion to the rest of his stocky body.
Nick also learned he had to take special care when he sat down. By the time he graduated from high school, he was carrying 270 pounds on his fireplug frame, so it wasn’t a question of breaking anything, except the overstressed seam on the seat of his pants—it was just a question of finding space to accommodate the voluminous size of his disproportionately large rear end . No sense trying to try to sit in those chair-attached-to-desk things in class—he couldn’t squeeze his butt into them. He learned to always sit on an aisle seat in an auditorium, the movies, or a stadium—he’d have to step out into the aisle to let someone pass because he just took up so much volume in the back no one could squeeze around him. The bulk of his backside took up so much space that when Nick sat, it looked to others that he was perched on the front of the seat, even when he scrunched his butt tightly up to the back of the seat. This meant it was tough for Nick to be comfortable—to rest his back on the back of the seat, he had to tilt his upper body backwards in an unnatural angle.
Nick couldn’t help but be conscious of the bulk of his butt. As he walked, he could feel how his buttcheeks bounced, wobbled, and shifted from side to side and how the mountains of soft flab which padded his massive glutes jiggled and quivered. When he jogged, he could really feel the movement—but most times it didn’t really bother him that much. Nick had always had a big rear end, so he never knew what guys with average sized butts felt when they walked.
Being “big back there”, as Nick’s doting mom described his build, had always been a fact of life for Nick. His parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles all approved of the extra baby fat which he carried as a toddler. They all had “old-country” values and a fat kid was a healthy kid. As a student in elementary school, fat little Nicky came to dread when the teacher called the roll. It never failed; the teacher would call out “Nicholas”, he’d answer “here” and some smart mouth in the back of the room would call out “Nick-all-ASS” to the snickers of some of the kids. A few fights put a stop to that, but Nicky gave up trying to stop even his friends from calling him “Lardass” and “Balloon Butt”. Above his waistline and below his knees and seen from the front, Nicky was merely husky, but his big backside, lovehandles and thighs were already greatly out of proportion to the rest of his body. His relatives didn’t think anything about Nick’s unusual shape—they recalled various granduncles and other male relatives back in the “old country” who were built like Nicky. He had a big appetite, he liked to eat, he was healthy and stocky. So what was the problem?
Nicky’s older brother Joey—he was older than Nicky by six years— didn’t help matters when he constantly referred to Nicky as “Bucket Butt”. Nicky got his revenge by calling Joey, a stocky kid who carried a lot of weight in his gut, “Santa Belly”. Nicky and Joey’s mom was dismayed by this constant teasing, but basically her sons Joey and Nicky got along well with each other and did well in school and sports.
Nicky always wanted to play Pop Warner football, but his heavy build and the extra baby fat he was carrying meant that he could never make the weight requirements. So, he concentrated on Little League baseball where there was no weight limit. His dad and uncles and older brother Joey were all New York Yankees fans and Nicky automatically became one too. He amassed a collection of Yankee baseball cards and avidly followed Yankees games on TV and radio. It was always a special treat when his dad took him and his brother all the way to the Bronx to watch a home game at Yankee Stadium. Nicky was so impressed with the aura of the Stadium and all the great players his dad told him about—Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, and many more.
Given Nicky’s build, from the first day he went out for Little League he was assigned to the position of catcher. He loved playing and quickly developed the skills he needed to cover home plate, “read the field” and signal to the pitcher. He also quickly learned to try to ignore all the trash talk from kids on the opposing teams. Sometimes it even came from coaches or parents of the other teams: “Hey, kid, if your coach told you to haul ass you’d have to make three trips! Ha ha!” Nicky tried hard to not let the cracks bother him and to concentrate on the game, no matter how bad the taunting.
By the time he reached high school, Nick had outgrown his “baby fat” as well as the name “Nicky” and chubby Nicky had grown into chunky Nick. He took up weight lifting to help him in baseball. Nick quickly developed broad shoulders, strong biceps and triceps, and a “deep” chest with powerful pecs, and he became known for his abilities as a power hitter. At the same time his weight lifting developed his upper body, so did his glutes, flanks, and thighs grow, too. No matter how much he worked out, his lovehandles and the jiggly lard which padded his flanks and lower back and merged into his oversized buttocks (the only portion of his “baby fat: still remaining) didn’t disappear. Nick didn’t have much flab on his gut—just a thin flat layer of padding on his abs, but “back there” was different. Squats and leg presses caused his quads and calves as well as his glutes to grow bigger and more powerful and only added to how big he was “in the back”.
Nick got used to the “jokes” from his friends, classmates and team mates. His nickname on the high school baseball team was “The Big Caboose”, which Nick didn’t mind because he thought it sounded like pitcher Randy Johnson’s nickname “The Big Unit”. He also got used to the first day of baseball practice. Every year, he’d show up, and if the coach didn’t know him, Nick just knew that the coach would end up staring at him in amazement as soon as Nick turned around or the coach caught a side view of him. Baseball uniforms were the same thing as his regular clothes—he’d get the largest size pants he could find and his mom would take in the waist, so there was enough room in the seat and legs for his oversized rear end and huge thighs.
Every time Nick came to bat and got a hit, he’d run the bases (well, jog as fast he could, given the size of the load he was carrying “back there”) and guarantee some jerk in the stands would call out “shake that lardass, fat boy”. Nick put up with all that crap. The only time he got into a fight was once when he bunted, got to first base, and the opposing team’s first baseman trash-talked to him: “hey dude, your ass is so big and femme you should be playing girls softball. Your ass is bigger than J-Lo, and you’re cute, too!” Nick got kicked out of the game when he slugged the guy. Teenage Nick always got turned on by girls with big tits and big asses, but deep down inside, whenever he saw a girl with a big butt, he wondered why his rear end was so big and whether or not his ass was bigger than the booty of the girl who was causing his dick to stir. His brother Joe had a big belly, but at least that was masculine. Why did Nick have to be the brother with the huge ass?
Nick got accepted to a small college in the Northeast not that far from where he had grown up in northern New Jersey. The college had a good baseball team and Nick looked forward to continuing his career as a catcher. In the back of his mind, he dreamed that a scout for the New York Yankees would hear what a good catcher and hitter he was and offer him a contract.
Off he went to live on campus. He was excited to be on his own and looked forward to the adventures which awaited him.
His first day in the dorm, Nick met with the usual greetings, and then the stares and stunned looks when his new dorm mates’ glances went from his face to his chunky torso and then his enormous backside. Nick was used to that, though he didn’t really realize how much of a show his big distended buttcheeks put on—with every step he took, one buttock would rise like an elevator, wobbling all the while, then it would crash down almost with a thud as the process continued with his other buttcheek as he took another step. From the front, Nick looked like any other stocky, deep-chested, “thick-waisted”, heavy-hipped guy “built like a fireplug”—from the side and the back, the show he involuntarily put on with every step he took amazed everyone.
Nick adjusted pretty well to being away from home. The other students in college were friendly and his classes were interesting and actually easier than he expected. He decided to major in Accounting, as his older brother Joey had.
Nick soon got used to trying to shoehorn his big backside into the seats in the lecture halls, and if that was impossible, he always looked for seats without armrests which allowed his butt and thighs to spread out fully when he sat down to concentrate on the lecture. The food in the college cafeteria and snack bars was great, and chunky Nick—whose mom was always proud of his “healthy appetite”—loved that his meal plan meant he could eat all he wanted. He was conscious though that he couldn’t stuff himself without limit. In the back of his mind, his dreams of having a shot at playing for the Yankees meant that he had to do well on the college baseball team. So, Nick needed to be in good shape.
In September of his freshman year, Nick saw an announcement posted around campus that a meeting was to be held the next day in the gym for all prospective baseball players. Nick showed up the next day wearing a t-shirt, size 2XLT—which was snug across his bulging muscular pecs and wide obliques and long enough to cling to his ballooning buttcheeks, and a pair of 4XL sweatshorts from his senior year in high school. As usual, Nick’s mom had altered the 4XL sweatshorts to 2XL size around the waist but Nick noticed they were even snugger than they had been in the spring around his rear end and thighs. Because the shorts were originally so big, they came down below Nick’s knees—but that didn’t bother him because the baggy, oversize look was “in”.
There was a pretty large group of freshmen at the gym for the baseball meeting. A line formed at the old fashioned balance scale where the coach and one of the assistant coaches were weighing and measuring the prospective players. After standing in line for a while, Nick reached the scale. He gave his name to the coach, who was writing everything down on his clipboard. He stepped up on the scale and his height was measured at 5’7”—same as his senior year in high school. The balance scale showed his weight to be 270. The head coach wrote down the number, then said, “Nick, right? You’re a husky guy but you sure don’t look as big as 270.”
Nick involuntarily flexed his big pecs to show off his muscular build to the coach as he replied, stepping off the scale and turning to leave the line, “Yeah, Coach, I know I may have to drop a few but I’m going to work at it. I’m lifting more often now.”
His attention drawn to the side and then back view of Nick’s “thick waist” and massive buttocks, which wobbled, bounced and shifted as he stepped off the scale, Coach replied in surprise, “Jeezus, Nick, I can see where you’re carrying all the weight.” The assistant coach, who was standing next to the coach and stood staring at Nick with his mouth wide open, added, “Woah, Nick, you said you lift weights, right? You must squat oxen!”
At that point, both coaches shut up in embarrassment and in the silence, Nick heard snickers from some of the other guys still in line. “Well, Coach”, he said matter-of-factly, “I’ve always been big back there. My high school coach always told me that the best catchers have the biggest backsides.”
Coach, at this point wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth in the first place—who knew, maybe this kid would turn out to be a good player even though he had to be carrying a good 80 extra pounds on his huge distended rear end—said, “Well, Nick, I hope to see you at practice. We need good catchers.”
Showering at the athletic locker room or in his dorm lavatory was pretty much the same as high school for Nick—a bunch of buck-naked guys goofing around as well as getting clean. Nick had always gotten a lot of swats with wet towels on his huge jutting jiggly butt in the locker room shower and in return he swatted back with his towel. Just “guy stuff”.
Nick soon came to realize, though, that some guys in college were a lot more open expressing their feelings than high school guys were. In high school, he received some football-player style pats on his huge buttocks —so what? In college, though, there were guys who were open about staring at him and checking him out—well, mostly checking out the size, shape, and movement of his enormous butt balloons. Nick had to admit he did the same in return as he looked for guys whose rear ends were as massive as his. Not that he became a connoisseur of male buttocks, but he couldn’t help but notice all the differences in butt shape and size among the guys. Some guys were totally flat—no butt at all. (Nick thought they looked deformed and pitied them). Some of Nick’s team mates on the baseball team had round muscular bubblebutts. Nick kind of envied them. They seemed to be in proportion—big pecs balanced by a big butt. In the back of his mind, Nick, self-confident as he seemed to others, regretted that his big muscular pecs were more than outbalanced by the size of his massive lard-padded glutes.
Nick noticed a few guys around campus who were positively pear-shaped. These were obese guys with hips much wider than their shoulders, huge lovehandles, thighs so big that fat hung off them in rolls, and enormous fat lumpy buttcheeks covered with dimply cellulite. Nick never said anything to these guys—he’d had to take teasing all his life and so he wouldn’t dream of mocking somebody else—and he felt kind of a kinship with them and actually made a special effort to be friendly to them.
There was only one time when Nick got super pissed off at one of his dorm mates. Nick and a bunch of other guys had gone to a fast food place after a basketball game on campus. As usual, he was wearing his oversized shorts and an extra long polo shirt. Some of the guys had already picked up their wrapped whoppers and fries while Nick and some others were still waiting to place their orders. Suddenly, all the guys were quiet and Nick felt something, some pressure, on the top of his buttocks where they stuck out the farthest. The silence tuned to snickers. Nick was concentrating on what to order while this was going on, but after about 30 seconds the snickering turned to laughter and drew Nick’s attention. Nick spun around and noticed that three wrapped whoppers had fallen to the floor.
“What the h…?” Nick yelled out angrily.
The guy who lived in the dorm room next to him replied, laughing, “Hey buddy, I almost won the bet! I bet I could put at least two whoppers on top of that ass shelf you got going there and they would sit there until I ate them! Shit, man, I put three back there—and if you hadn’t turned around, I could’ve put a couple more! Your butt is so huge I bet it has its own zip code!” There was more laughter in the background.
Nick felt himself getting angrier and angrier as the guy talked and the laughter continued. Finally, his eyes flashing, he snarled, “Look, if you EVER do something like that again, or if you or anybody else even touches me back there again, it’ll be the last thing you EVER do.”
The other guy only mumbled “hey, sorry, dude”, wisely figuring the less said the better.
All the other guys fell silent. No one said anything. Everyone got their orders and they went and sat together. Nick broke the ice by starting to talk about the game. He was calm and cool, so the other guys started talking normally. They all figured Nick had forgotten about the “joke”. Nick hadn’t, though. He just added the incident to the long list of taunts, “jokes” and mockery he had received since he was old enough to realize what was happening.
At the start of his sophomore year, Nick met his new room mate. Josh was a sophomore too and seemed cool enough. He wasn’t an athlete—in fact, he was one of those pear-shaped guys with an enormously wide flabby rear end, huge lumpy thighs, with big fat sagging man breasts and a jiggly belly apron to go with his giant ass–and was majoring in music. Josh’s red hair and blue eyes showed his Irish-American ancestry. He was taller than Nick by a couple of inches.
Nick and Josh hit it off OK from the first. Nick, Josh and the guys from their floor of the dorm usually ate breakfast and dinner together at the cafeteria. Nick soon came to see why Josh was so big—he could EAT, not only huge meals, three or four servings at the cafeteria, but the rest of the time too. Josh kept their room well stocked with chips, snack cakes, and candy bars and ordered pizza every night. Nick, of course, was always invited by Josh to dig in. Whenever Nick offered to help pay for the pizza, Josh always replied that his father was “rolling in dough” and so he had an unlimited allowance. Nice guy Nick always accepted Josh’s generosity.
The middle of November came and Nick ran into the baseball coach one day at the gym. Coach greeted Nick with the words, “Good to see you here, Nick. You had a great season last spring as a freshman. You got a couple of months from now to get back into shape before practice starts and you know how the holidays are.”
“Get back into shape?” asked Nick. He didn’t think he was out of shape.
“Hey, Nick, come on, you look like you’ve really put on some weight…”
Nick interrupted, “Well, Coach, you know I’ve always been big back there…”
This time the coach did the interrupting. “No, Nick, I’m not talking about your rear end. You’re getting a gut on you, Nick. You’re one step away from having a pot belly. It’s time to cut back on the beer and pizza, Nick, before you eat yourself off the team. I got to tell you, you’re bottom heavy but that’s OK on a catcher….within limits. You’re just about at the limit of how big you can be back there and be competitive. But if you keep on building up that belly and adding more tonnage onto your butt, you’re in danger of losing whatever agility and speed you have. So, take my advice—cut back on the groceries!”
“OK, Coach, thanks for telling me,” said Nick quietly. He was shocked. He had noticed over the past few months or so that his clothes had become tighter but that was a fact of life in the dorm, where the guys did their own laundry and washed everything in hot water and always set the dryer on “high”. Could he be getting fat?
It was late afternoon by the time Nick got back to his dorm room. There was a note from Josh on the mirror: “Taking a shower, be back soon. Got some brownies, they’re in the mini-fridge. Half are for you, buddy!” Nick read that and smiled—there went generous Josh with the snacks again! His stomach rumbled with hunger. A few brownies wouldn’t hurt his appetite for dinner, but then he thought about what the coach told him.
He stripped off his t-shirt and took off his specially altered cargo pants—-which would have been enormously baggy on anyone else but were tightly stretched across his ass—and stood in front of the mirror in his made-to-order boxers. He put his right hand under his left pec and shook it—it jiggled and quivered with the new fat which had accumulated on his chest over the past few months. Same thing with his gut—it was doughier and softer. Nick turned to the side and moved forward a little so he could see the side view of his entire ballooning ass. It was hard to tell if it was bigger—it was so huge anyway—but Nick jogged in place a few steps and noticed that his asscheeks had even more of a wobble and bounce than usual. When he stopped jogging, the soft new fat covering his giant butt globes seemed to keep on jiggling and quivering for ages. Shit! Coach was right. Nick grimaced.
Nick sadly put all thoughts of the brownies out of his mind and considered that he’d have to start cutting back at mealtime, too. Shit again! He’d probably have to get by on one helping at meals, rather than the three he had become used to from eating with Josh. Oh well, baseball was worth it and Coach had warned him.
At that point, the door opened and Josh waddled into the room. He took off his oversize bathrobe and threw it on his bed. Every part of his overfed naked body jiggled, quivered, and swayed with each step he took. “Hey, why so unhappy, buddy?” he asked Nick.
“The baseball coach told me I have to go on a diet or else I might not make the team”, Nick replied glumly. At this point Nick tugged off his tight boxers. “I’m going to go take a shower before dinner.”
Josh waddled closer to Nick who was still standing in front of the mirror. “Gee, Nick, the coach is wrong. You look great the way you are. In fact…”
Nick interrupted, “No buddy, Coach is the boss and he’s right. Look at this belly I’m getting. Too many snacks, I guess…”
By this point, Josh was standing right behind Nick and within a few seconds Nick could feel Josh’s breath on his neck and Josh’s belly apron pushing into the thick layer of flab on his lower back and the top of his distended asscheeks. Josh said softly, “Nick, I’ve never told you this until now, but you’re so fucking hot, and you’re getting hotter every day.” With this, Josh reached forward with both of his fat arms around Nick’s big lovehandles and tried to pull Nick backward so that his ass would grind into Josh’s crotch while Josh grabbed his dick. Nick could feel Josh’s huge saggy breasts pushing into his shoulders and Josh’s erection trying to push into his deep buttcrack.
Nick reacted in a rush. His muscular arms broke the grip Josh had around his lovehandles and he whirled around, stepping back from Josh. “Hey, Josh, hold on, man, I’m not ready for this…” Nick was searching for the right words. Stunned as he was at what just had happened, he still didn’t want to hurt Josh’s feelings.
Josh interrupted. “Nick, can’t you see how much I love you? And I know you must love me too….. “
Nick stood there trying to figure out what was happening. His own dick was semi-erect, but he knew he just wanted to be friends with Josh—nothing sexual, nothing serious. But what to do?
Josh continued breathlessly, “Nick, come on! I love you and I know you love me too. I mean, you’re always so nice to me, friendly like nobody has ever been before to me. And we’re so alike. The first time I saw how you’re built I knew we have so much in common. We’re both big guys who like our food and I bet you get turned on by being big and eating a lot just like I do. I know how hard it is to be a guy with a big fat ass.. Most guys would think it’s weird to think like I do, but I just know you’re like me. That’s why you’ve been eating so much since we became room mates. You want to be bigger, like me. From the first time I saw that huge beautiful sexy ass of yours, I’ve dreamed about you becoming as big as me and that you’d fall in love with me. Your buttcrack is so fucking deep and your asscheeks are just so huge and full and they just merge perfectly into your sexy lovehandles…”
Nick noticed that Josh’s erection was starting to throb. It was thrusting past his flabby belly apron so that the jelly-like fat of his apron was quivering.
All kinds of thoughts were going through Nick’s mind. He knew that Josh would do anything he wanted. Nick had never had sex with a guy before, but he had daydreamed once or twice about what it would be like to have sex with another guy. But then he thought about what Josh told him about eating more and getting bigger. Nick knew he didn’t want that. Until Coach talked with him that morning, he hadn’t noticed the weight he had put on over the past three months while being Josh’s room mate. Nobody had paid attention to his newly-flabby gut and chest anyway—all the focus was always on his big protruding oversized rump—but Nick quickly decided that baseball right now had priority, and he HAD to lose weight. But how to tell Josh there wasn’t going to be a relationship and that Nick really didn’t have any romantic feelings for him? Nice guy Nick, who had been taunted and teased so much over the years, didn’t want to hurt Josh’s feelings.
Nick hit upon what to say. “Josh,” Nick said quietly, “I’ve always thought of you as a brother, just like my older brother Joey. There’s nothing romantic about it. Yeah, we have some things in common, but you’re like a brother to me. That’s all. I’m sorry.”
Josh turned away from Nick and started to cry. Nick felt bad for him but didn’t want to comfort him for fear of giving him the message that he really DID care.
Nick showered and got dressed to go down to the cafeteria to dinner. He asked Josh to come with him but Josh refused. After an unusually light dinner for Nick—one portion of the main dish, a large salad and a piece of fruit for dessert—he returned to his room. Josh was gobbling up a supersize stuffed crust meat lovers pizza he had had delivered while Nick was eating downstairs. He barely looked up when Nick entered.
“Nick, you want some?” Josh almost pleaded. His mouth was full of pizza.
“No, sorry, man,” quietly replied Nick.
The rest of the evening passed quietly. Nick studied and refused Josh’s frequent offers of a snack—candy, chips, cookies.
The next day, Nick got up early to head to the gym. Josh was still sleeping. Nick stepped up on the scale and checked his weight. He was surprised when he saw that the bar balanced at 283 pounds. Woah—he didn’t think he had put on THAT much weight since school had started. He grabbed a roll of the soft doughy gut which had formed without him realizing it and frowned. After working out, he showered and had a light breakfast then went to class. After a light lunch—one sandwich, a glass of skim milk, a salad without dressing, and an apple— Nick went to his afternoon classes and then went for a jog.
When he got back to his dorm room, it was quiet. He noticed a note addressed to him on his desk. It was from Josh and said that Josh thought it would be better if he moved to a different room. It ended with “I hope we still can be friends”. Nick was sorry for Josh, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. He noticed that Josh had left a big jar of cookies on the desk when he removed the rest of his belongings. The cookies looked SO tempting, but Nick was resolute. He resisted temptation and went down to dinner. He had to drop the weight and that was that.
By the time baseball season started, Nick had dieted and exercised down to 270. Coach was pleased and Nick was happy.
Nick didn’t see much of Josh. Whenever they accidentally ran into each other, it seemed like Josh was trying to avoid him. Nick was kind of concerned, but he felt he had tried to be nice to Josh, hadn’t led him on or anything, so he had nothing to feel bad about.
The end of May meant the end of Nick’s second college baseball season. He had a good season, starting in most of the games and leading his team in home runs and runs batted in. Nick had decided to take summer classes at his college and so didn’t go home to New Jersey. He rented a small studio apartment close to campus.
Nick and some of his buddies were out clubbing one night when he met a girl who he had seen around campus, but didn’t really know. She came up to him at the club and started talking. Her name was Tiffany and Nick could tell she’d had a lot to drink. She was pretty attractive—long natural blonde hair and built well, not a skinny twig like many of the girls Nick had met at clubs—and Nick decided to get to know her better. After a few minutes of chat, Tiffany reached behind Nick, grabbed one of his huge buttcheeks, and asked, “Is that all really you?” Nick laughed and replied, “Yeah, who else would it be?” and reached over and patted her sexy booty, saying “Is this really you?” Tiffany smiled at Nick and said, “Let’s get together someplace private and see what’s real and what isn’t.”
By this point, she was slurring her words. One of her female friends came over to her, smiled at Nick, and said, “Come on, Tiff, time to go home.”
Nick thought Tiffany was hot and he saw some potential for a fling, but he had some standards. Getting it on with a drunk chick wasn’t something he found appealing. So he added, “Yeah, Tiffany, time for me to go home too. Let’s talk tomorrow” Tiff’s friend smiled at Nick and mouthed the word “Thanks” to him. So, he and Tiffany exchanged cellphone numbers before leaving separately.
The next afternoon, Tiffany called Nick. She seemed not to remember much about what had happened the night before, saying, “I have your number and I remember how amazing you look and how sweet you were. How about if you come over to my place for dinner with me and my apartment mates tonight?”
Nick agreed. After a large meal of lasagna Tiffany’s room mates all went to the movies, leaving Tiffany and Nick alone. One thing led to another and Nick and Tiffany were in her bedroom. Clothes soon came off and Tiffany and Nick soon realized all they had seen the night before was real. The next morning, Tiffany cooked Nick a big breakfast and he was sitting at the kitchen table eating when Tiffany’s apartment mates came out of their bedrooms. They didn’t seem surprised to see a man there and greeted Nick like he was an old friend.
By the time the summer ended, Nick had indeed become an old friend to all three of Tiffany’s apartment mates. He usually spent a couple of nights of the week at Tiffany’s place and the other five nights she was at his small studio apartment.
There was a lot for Nick to love about Tiffany. She had a hot set of boobs, wide full hips and booty, and a small sexy belly. Nick was really attracted to her long blonde hair. Nick had to admit, too, that Tiffany was a great cook, something she demonstrated for him on weekends in between their hot lovemaking sessions.
August arrived and Nick was seriously thinking about going the next step and asking Tiffany to live with him the next school year. Life with Tiffany had taken on a routine. They spent 98% of their free time together and Nick’s planned visits to the nearby college gym had stopped weeks before. (At the end of baseball season, Nick decided he was going to work out regularly so he’d be in shape for the next year’s season without having to go through the hell of a crash diet and exercise program like he had to do after being Josh’s room mate for three fattening months.) After Nick and Tiffany got home from classes and their drudge summer jobs, Tiff would bring out the huge prepared meal she had purchased at the market, always some kind of “comfort food”, like pot roast and mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, or fried chicken with potatoes au gratin. Then followed a nice dessert which Nick would pick up on his way home. Nick knew that Tiff loved cheesecake. After dinner, a little television, a bedtime snack for Nick (usually the remains on the cheesecake left after Tiff had her small slice and Nick had a nice healthy slab), and off to the bedroom. Up the next morning for a nice homemade breakfast.
Nick loved the way Tiffany fussed over him and sex with her was great.
Nick also had to admit that Tiffany had her quirks. There were some things she suggested that Nick do that weren’t exactly kinky, just…”different”. For example, once a week, she insisted on taking his measurements—chest, gut, hips, and thighs—with a tape measure. He’d stand there in the nude while she got out the tape measure. The first time she suggested this, Nick thought Tiff was going to measure his dick and he was a little nervous. He didn’t think he was particularly big there—-just big enough to get the job done—and besides, the first inch of his shaft was buried in the layer of soft flab that had always padded his pubic area. Nick was a little taken aback when Tiff didn’t even measure his dick, concentrating on the other measurements instead, always ending up with his hips. Oh well, after she finished, she was so fired up she always went straight to giving him whatever he wanted. The other thing she got off on having him do was walk around his studio apartment after dinner completely naked. She never said why she liked this—Nick assumed she liked seeing his dick dangle and sway from side to side as he walked—and the result was always hot sex so Nick didn’t mind.
One night toward the end of August, Tiff called Nick at work and told him she’d be delayed at her job. Nick offered to cook dinner—his mom’s recipe for spaghetti with butter and cheese, real simple to prepare but something Nick loved. He stopped at an Italian bakery and bought pastries for dessert. After he got home to his studio apartment, Nick had some time on his hands—he didn’t want to put the spaghetti on to boil until Tiff got home—and he went on the computer to kill some time.
Nick soon realized that Tiff had been on the computer after he left for work that morning and had forgotten to log off. He was curious—no particular reason why—but he decided to read Tiff’s email. He knew he shouldn’t, but…. He was seriously thinking about asking Tiff to marry him, and no harm checking out her email, right? After all, he hadn’t known her that long. It didn’t take him long to figure out Tiff’s password.
Much to Nick’s relief, he didn’t find any emails between Tiff and a secret boyfriend. He did find some between Tiff and her best friend back in her hometown. Tiff had mentioned this girl to Nick as being her “closest friend from the time they were little kids”. Nick’s curiosity was aroused when he noticed that one exchange of emails was titled “My Nicky”. Hmmmm…..
Nick soon discovered that Tiff had written her friend to tell her that she had posted some videos on Youtube. She put the link in the email and of course Nick clicked on the link when he read, “Look at these and you’ll see why I think he’s so hot!”
As Nick clicked on the link, he hoped that Tiff hadn’t posted any embarrassing videos of him and hadn’t mentioned his full name. He knew she often had her cellphone out at the apartment but he hadn’t dreamed she was taking pictures or making videos. He didn’t even know if her cellphone had those features. Oh well. He prepared to view some videos of his handsome face—he smiled to himself—or maybe his chest—he was proud of his full pecs—or maybe his package—hmmmm—but Youtube wouldn’t allow pics of his dick to be posted, would they?
Instead, Nick was stunned. There were five videos posted by Tiffany under the name of “NickyLover”, and the videos were of his….ass! From May to a couple of days ago, from the back, from the side, in his boxers, in pants, and naked, the videos showed Nick’s huge protruding buttocks in all their wobbling, shaking, jiggling, quivering immensity. The latest video, posted a couple of days ago, was labeled “see how big my Nicky’s getting compared to May. Every calorie my hot honey eats goes str8 to his best feature. Doncha think he’s HOT?”
Nick sat there and replayed the videos. He was fascinated by what he saw. He knew he was big back there, but these videos were the first time in his life he had ever seen his massive asscheeks in motion from someone else’s perspective. “Damn, I’m HUGE” was the thought that kept on repeating in Nick’s mind as he observed how his massive rear end dominated the screen. His cheeks were massively full and wide and rounded out like two huge oval weather balloons and never stopped jiggling and quivering. In the middle of his lower back was a deep horizontal dimple that marked the separation between each big buttock. The upper outward side of each cheek merged seamlessly into the thick, wide lovehandles which padded each of his flanks. Nick stared amazed at what he saw on the computer screen. For the first time, Nick realized exactly why he had always attracted so much attention. He always knew he was “big back there”—now he realized how unbelievably HUGE he was.
Nick heard the door open and quickly shut down the computer. He didn’t know exactly what to think, so he thought he’d play it cool and see what would happen.
After greeting Tiffany, Nick started to prepare dinner. As the spaghetti was draining, he was at the work counter grating the parmesan cheese when Tiffany came up in back of him. She got behind him and put her hands on his giant asscheeks and caressed them through the sweatshorts he was wearing while she nuzzled his neck. Nick suddenly realized that Tiff always caressed his buttcheeks a lot, more than she caressed any other part of his body.
After the spaghetti was ready to eat, Tiff and Nick sat at the table. Nick noticed how Tiff kept on glancing down at his hips and thighs as he perched on the kitchen chair. She was obviously focusing a lot more on how his buttocks, hips, and thighs filled his shorts almost to bursting as he sat and how he overflowed the chair seat. After Nick ate a large portion of butter and cheese drenched pasta and Tiff barely touched hers, she encouraged him to eat another huge portion “just to finish it off Nick, you know we don’t have room in the refrigerator for leftovers.”
“Yeah, right, Tiff”, Nick thought. Same thing with the pastries—Tiff had one, Nick had five and Tiff said that Nick should eat the rest before they went to bed and gave him a big wink. Nick smiled to himself and thought that at least he was going to get lucky that night even while he was finding out what Tiff was really up to with those videos.
By the time Nick and Tiff were ready to head to the bedroom later in the evening, Nick had effortlessly eaten the rest of the pastries. Tiffany excused herself to use the bathroom, then reappeared just wearing her panties, her full boobs swaying as she walked into the bedroom. Nick was ready for action, but Tiffany sexily told him to take of his undershorts and walk back and forth for her, “you’re so sexy babe!” Nick kept his eyes open for Tiff’s cellphone, but she didn’t bring it out. “No videos being made tonight”, he thought.
In the bedroom, Nick didn’t give himself totally over to lovemaking as he usually did. He kept conscious of everything Tiff was doing, how she responded to his caresses of her breasts and belly and butt and then his fingering of her vagina with increased caresses of his ass and lovehandles. When he finally mounted her and started pumping, she moaned with pleasure, but was it from the intercourse or from the fact she kept her both hands on the sides of his giant buttcheeks the whole time, as if to feel them shaking and jiggling with each thrust? After they were finished, he fell asleep increasingly unhappy.
Next morning was the moment of truth. Nick was naked in the bathroom, shaving. The door opened and Tiff came in. As usual, her hands went to his backside. One hand on each massive fat over muscle cheek, she caressed the mammoth mounds in a circular motion.
“And how’s my honey this morning?”
“OK”. Nick kept his answer short.
“And what do you want for breakfast today, lover? I was thinking of some nice eggo waffles with butter and syrup. I think we’ve got about a dozen or so, and I can heat up some sausage. Think that’ll get you off to a good start?” Her hands now alternated, hefting each huge buttcheek up and then letting them drop, wildly shaking and jiggling.
In spite of himself—he was almost ready to say something to Tiff—Nick felt his dick start to stiffen up. If he hadn’t already decided he needed to seriously talk to Tiff, this moment would have been so hot frickin’ for him as well as her.
He abruptly turned and faced Tiff. “Actually Tiff, I want just a couple of pieces of toast and some coffee. I was thinking, I’ve been putting on weight this summer and I need to get it off. I need to start jogging again now so when baseball season starts in five months I won’t have to crash diet like I did last fall.” While saying this, he grabbed a handful of his new bellyflab and jiggled it.
Tiff looked upset. “B…B…But Nick….You look great the way you are now! I mean, what’s the big deal with baseball, anyway? Look, you’re starting your junior year, you’ve played baseball a long time. Don’t you think it’s time to just relax and do things you like? Like eat…and…and…well, like meeting my needs. You’re so hot and getting hotter with each passing day.” At this point, Tiff grabbed Nick’s huge asscheeks with both her hands. “I just love the way you look… you drive me nuts you’re so hot.” Tiff was squeezing, caressing, prodding and massaging each buttcheek.
Nick’s enormous butt balloons responded by quivering and shaking wildly with each of Tiff’s touches. Despite himself, Nick’s dick was starting to throb. But, he had had enough. The images from those videos on Youtube flashed through his mind.
“Look, Tiff, I saw those videos you posted on Youtube!”
Tiff’s hands dropped to her sides. She didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” The words started to pour out of Nick. He was struggling to keep calm but his anger showed as he spat out the words, “Look, Tiff, what’s with you, anyway? I think to you I’m just a pair of big asscheeks with a guy attached. Do you love me for me or do you love me because of my big behind? I think all you want to do is fatten me up so you can get off on my big ass….”
Tiff was quiet and looked down at the floor. To Nick, it seemed like she was ready to cry. The “nice guy” side of Nick started to take over and he spoke more calmly. “Tiff, I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to be more to you than just a guy who has a big butt that turns you on. You know baseball’s important to me, and you should respect me enough to go along with my plans.”
Tiff raised her head and looked Nick in the eyes. “But Nick, when I watch baseball I see plenty of players with nice round butts, so what’s the big deal with me wanting your sexy butt to get bigger? C’mon, lover, you know you like to eat and if seeing you fill out makes me happy, what’s the problem?” She reached out and started to massage one of Nick’s buttcheeks again. More quivering and jiggling and Tiff began to breathe harder. “And those vids….I just made those so that I could admire you on video when you’re not here in person.”
“And so you posted them on Youtube? And, Tiff, the videos just show my butt! I’m not some kind of freak show!” Nick’s efforts to be a nice guy weren’t getting anywhere and so his voice got a little louder. “Look, Tiff, my lease on this place is up for renewal in a few days and I just decided I’m going to move back to the dorm. We need to call it quits. It’s not going to work out. Move back with your roommates. It’s just not gonna work out for us.”
Tiff pleaded but Nick stood his ground. Those videos of his big ballooning ass kept replaying through his mind. Finally Tiff, crying, went to the bedroom. By the end of the day, she had packed her things and left without a further word to Nick. Within a few days, the college dorm had reopened and Nick had moved back in.
A couple of days later, Nick struggled to find a pair of workout shorts that fit. The shorts he wore last year—3XL, taken in at the waist to fit his XL waist, were too tight to be pulled up over his thighs, hips, and rear. In the back of the drawer, he managed to dig out a pair of workout shorts that were so baggy last spring he hadn’t worn them—to him, they were like “clown shorts”, so baggy he thought they made his jumbo ass look even huger than it actually was. Now, as he tugged them up he saw they were so tight they fit him like spandex. Just as bad, from Nick’s point of view, a soft doughy mound of flab curved out from beneath his pecs and bulged over his waistband. Mentally, he cursed Tiff for her manipulation of him and cursed himself for not realizing what she was doing.
He went to the gym on campus and stepped on the scale. He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that his summer with Tiff hadn’t caused too much damage to his fitness routine. He opened his eyes and hopefully fiddled with the balance bar. Oh shit! 295 pounds! 25 pounds over his playing weight at the end of last season.
By the time baseball practice started after the Christmas holidays, Nick had managed to diet down to 275. The extra five pounds he was carrying compared to the previous year had, of course, settled onto his backside. The whole diet was a struggle, and no matter what he tried, the five pounds just wouldn’t come off. He was smart enough not to do anything extreme and ruefully decided that extra weight “back there” was a parting gift from Tiff. The same thing with those videps she posted on youtube. They remained posted and Nick decided there was nothing he could do. At least she hadn’t mentioned his last name or the college he was attending and nobody he knew said anything to him about them.
Because of his diet, he still managed to squeeze his enormous backside into the clothes which fit him before his summer with Tiff, but now his ass fully packed the seat of every pair of pants, shorts, and sweats which already been altered to accommodate his distended outsized rump. Nick got out the needle and thread and triple sewed the rear seams of everything from crotch to the back waistband to try to minimize the possibility of his ass blowing out the seam when he sat or bent down. His baseball uniform pants were something else—no way could he play his position of catcher with his ass threatening every day to explode through the thinly stretched cloth which strained to contain his backside, so he had to search and find a couple of pairs of 4XL baseball uniform pants which he took to a seamstress near campus who took in the waist for him.
The baseball season went fine for Nick and his team and the coach seemed happy. Nick saw a lot of playing time and his numbers were good. The end of the college semester soon came and this year Nick went home for the summer.
Nick spent the summer living with his parents and working at a nearby Starbuck’s as a barista. He was pleased that he was able to resist snacking on the tempting pastries and goodies and fattening latte drinks at Starbuck’s—not to mention his mom’s home cooking. He only put on a pound during his summer home—normal growth, he figured. The job was the usual for Nick. He had to get a couple of pair of pants to wear to work, which meant the same old routine of alterations. On the job, his co-workers, mostly all college kids his age, were friendly with him and no one commented on his looks.
As usual, Nick noticed people glancing at him and staring, then averting their eyes when they realized Nick knew what they were doing. Well, Nick had been used to that his entire life. Working behind the counter was a little awkward given the space Nick took up—how far he stuck out in the back. His co-workers took to saying “coming behind you” to Nick after the day when he accidentally backed up and pinned another employee into the latte machine with his distended protruding buttocks. She was nice about and accepted Nick’s embarrassed apologies.
Fall semester started and for the first time since he was a freshman Nick didn’t face a fall of dieting. He was all psyched up for a good baseball season and maybe even an offer to play in the pros after he graduated. So, he resisted the temptation to eat big and jogged everyday. 276 pound Nick hated jogging—he had so much weight “back there” to haul around that it was uncomfortable and the jogging made his ass bounce, shake and wobble so violently that it was like an earthquake, 8.5 on the Richter scale. At the end of each jog, Nick was very sore in his butt, flanks, upper thighs, and around his lovehandles from all the movement, but—being ready for baseball meant he HAD to jog every day.
Nick hoped the jogging would trim down his massive buttcheeks a little, but of course it didn’t happen. Every time he sat down, he could see how his bulky ass, hips, and upper thighs filled his jeans, pants or shorts to the bursting point. A couple of thigh seam failures when he sat made him get out the needle and thread and triple stitch the thigh seams of his already-altered clothes. Well, strengthening seams was a fact of life for him already, so no big deal.
Nick liked his senior year classes, most of which were in Accounting. In all his classes, Nick noticed on the first day that he was the center of attention once the students who didn’t already know him caught a glimpse of his backside. For those he knew already, he was just Nick, “you, know, the guy who’s so big back there” or to his baseball team mates or dorm mates, “Nick, the ‘Big Caboose’ with all the junk in his trunk”.
Nick spent the whole first semester and then the holidays getting ready for baseball. This would be his chance to show the scouts from the Yankee organization what he could do. By the end of the school year, he’d be graduating from college. If he was going to have a chance to make it to the pros, he had to be in the best possible shape. So, he watched what he ate and jogged every day, rain, sun, snow, or sleet. Aware of the fact that he oversized rear end had the potential to slow him down, he tried his best to keep his weight under control while at the same time eat enough to keep up his strength.
The end result was that Nick didn’t lose any weight, but as the months went by, he felt like he was in better shape, more energetic somehow. To his disappointment, his butt didn’t shrink any. His glute muscles developed even further and the heavy layer of lard which padded his buttcheeks, his lower back, and lovehandles remained as thick as ever. Well, there were guys in the major leagues who had well developed rear ends, thought Nick wishfully, silently praying that whoever scouted him would overlook how big he was “back there”.
The team had a great season. Nick was one of the main reasons for the team doing so well. His batting average was the best on the team. His well-developed arms and chest made him the best power hitter on the team. If he hit only a single or had to bunt he usually got called out on first because he just couldn’t run that fast, but when Nick hit a home run, it didn’t matter how slow he ran around the bases! He covered home plate well, and the local newspapers soon were talking about Nick being the best catcher in the league.
One day at the end of April, toward the end of the season, Nick and the other players were called to a special meeting with the coach. He told them that for the next home series, there would be a scout from the Yankees in the stands. That was all Nick needed to hear. He was fired up and determined to do his best. Nick’s team swept the series, which put Nick on top of the world. He just knew he’d get an offer from the Yankees, and his dream would come true. He knew he’d probably have to start out at the Yankees’ single A farm team in Staten Island, but it would be a start. Besides, Staten Island was close to his hometown in North Jersey and so his friends and family could watch him play!
After the last game of the series was finished, Nick and his team mates hit the showers. The usual locker room horseplay went right by Nick this time. He didn’t respond at all to the usual swats to his huge naked butt with wet towels and jokes about earthquakes taking place as Nick’s fat ass bounced, wobbled, jiggled and vibrated with every step he took. He just stood there, letting the warm water course over his powerful shoulders, pecs, and arms, dreaming of what it would be like to be wearing Yankee pinstripes.
Nick came out of his dream world when he realized he was the only player still in the shower. He turned off the water, stepped out into the locker room, grabbed his towel and dried himself off. Nick tugged on his oversize made-to-order boxer shorts and the new pair of shorts he had just picked up at the tailor shop before the series started. Nick had heard somewhere that the color black made people look thinner, so these new shorts were the darkest black Nick could find. When he tried them on at the tailors, he strained to see if they made his enormous rumpcheeks look any smaller. He couldn’t really tell, but he hoped they did.
As he pulled on his t-shirt, he flexed his triceps, biceps, and pecs. He hoped the scout for the Yankees had noticed how well he could hit the ball. His glance went further down to his abs, still upholstered in a layer of flab even with all the healthy eating he had been doing. Even though he didn’t want to look at his wide flab-padded lovehandles and flanks, he couldn’t help it. Well, he thought, he had done his best in this series and he said a silent prayer for a chance with the Yankees.
As Nick made his way out of the locker room, he noticed the door to the coach’s office was open a couple of inches. He slowed down, intending on going in to say good night to the coach. Nick stopped as he heard two voices talking.
From what was being said, Nick realized the Coach and the scout for the Yankees were talking. He knew he shouldn’t listen, but he was overcome by the same instinct that made him read Tiffany’s emails a couple of years before.
Nick stood outside the door and listened. The two men talked about old times and old friends. Then Nick could hear his coach say, “Well, let’s get down to business. I got some good talent on this team. Is there any info I can give you that will help you and the Yankee organization make some decisions?”
After talking about four or five guys—pitchers, outfielders, and the first baseman—Nick’s coach said, “What do you think of our starting catcher? Out of all my players, I have to be honest with you, he’s the guy with the most talent to make it in the majors. He’s the best catcher in our league and the most powerful hitter, too. You’ve seen the numbers. He leads our league in home runs and runs batted in.”
The scout replied in his heavy “Noo Yawk” accent. “You mean the fat guy? C’mon, if I offer him a contract, even for single A ball, Steinbrenner will never let me hear the end of it. He’s listed at—what—276? And a hundred of that has to be in his rear end. He’s gonna get a contract and start eating—I’ve seen it before. A kid with a build like his is never gonna be able to keep his weight down.”
Nick’s coach replied, “Listen, you and I go back a long time, right? I’ll be honest with you. This kid Nick has been working hard for four years to keep in shape. He’s the most motivated guy on the team. I know the choice is up to you, but, he’s worth a chance. Yeah, he’s a big boy for his height, and from what I know he’s always been big back there, but you saw how well he plays his position.”
Nick was listening even more closely as the scout responded. “Yeah, his technique is great. But, my friend, you’ve been working with him for four years. Take a step back and look at him from my perspective. When this kid….what’s his name, Nick?….when this kid Nick is crouching behind home plate, his butt is so huge it’s almost dragging on the ground. And that’s now. Give him a couple more years and he’ll be even bigger. I’ve seen it happen with guys half his size. Guys with “fireplug” builds like him just blow up like balloons…and right now this kid’s got the biggest balloon ass I’ve ever seen! Not to mention how slow he is running bases. He’s just got way too much tonnage back there to haul around….”
At this point, Nick quietly walked away from the door. He had heard enough. He knew he had just heard the end of his dreams for a baseball career.
Nick slowly walked around town on his way from the locker room back to the dorm. He was disappointed but realistic. The end of baseball season was a short while away, and then graduation from college. He had to get on with his life, even if wearing Yankee pinstripes wasn’t going to be a part of it.
After walking for a while, Nick ended up at a Burger King. It seemed like the aroma of the food lured him inside, and the next thing he knew he was sitting at a table eating two double whoppers with cheese, large fries, large onion rings, and a strawberry shake.
For the couple of weeks remaining in the college baseball season, Nick kept up his training even though he no longer cared about what he ate. By the last game of the season, he weighed in at 280. After that, Nick didn’t bother to work out any more. Why should he? The Yankees didn’t want him, and all for a reason he had no control over. All his hard work, training, and watching what he ate over the years didn’t mean crap. His genetics did him in—to Nick, it seemed like he was condemned by fate to have a huge backside no matter what he did to keep in shape.
The baseball season ended with Nick being chosen his team’s most valuable player. At the end-of-season banquet, one of the highlights was a humorous video made by the coaches. It was meant to be in good fun—there were scenes of spectacular plays, other scenes of goofs—like the center fielder and right fielder colliding with each other to catch a fly ball, and scenes of each player caught unaware that they were being video’ed. All the team howled and catcalled when a shot came on the screen of the horniest guy on the team scratching his crotch, when they saw a series of other embarrassing misplays involving just about every player on the team, and finally, shots of a bench-clearing brawl which happened in one game when a batter was beaned by the pitcher of the opposing team.
Nick cheered along with the rest of the team—until the image came up of him heading off the bench, massive ass in motion, each buttcheek wildly wobbling, shaking, and bouncing. The rest of the team started to chant in unison “Big Caboose, Big Caboose, Big Caboose,” punctuated by some calls of “shake it, Nick, shake it!!” The chant and catcalls continued while the video showed Nick and some other guys still brawling with the other team. It was obvious, though, that whoever took the video was focusing on Nick’s giant rump—sideviews, backviews, close-ups. Nick felt himself blushing while he squirmed in his seat—squirmed his enormous buttcheeks, which he could feel were packed onto the seat as usual, overflowing the space enclosed by the back of the chair and the two armrests. Nick put a weak grin on his face as the chanting died down and the video went on to other “highlights” of the season.
That was it for Nick. He went back to the dorm from the banquet and spent the rest of the night thinking, thinking about himself. All his life he had to deal with taunts and teasing about the size of his rear end. Why did he have to be so huge back there? He couldn’t help it…he had tried to keep himself in shape and yet his dreams of playing for the Yankees were crushed. He smiled ruefully at that—no matter what he did, he was known for one thing—the size of his buttocks. All the teasing over the years, from the time he was old enough to remember until the night of his baseball team’s awards banquet replayed in his mind. He thought of Josh and then Tiffany. Had they been attracted to him as a person? No, they were attracted to him because of his enormous rear end. Nick was so sick of being known just for his gigantic backside. Once again he cursed his fate.
Graduation came, and Nick returned to North Jersey. His older brother Joey hired him as a junior accountant in the small firm he owned. Nick enrolled at Fairleigh Dickinson University in night classes to work on his master’s in accounting. With help from his parents, he bought himself a small condo in North Jersey in the next town over from where he had grown up.
Nick kept up his contacts with some of his high school and college buddies and made new friends at work. He religiously followed the Yankees on cable television—he made some trips to Yankee Stadium, but as time went on Nick discovered that the seats there grew more and more uncomfortable with each trip he made, so he came to prefer to enjoy the watching the games at home on his giant flatscreen TV with his buddies and family.
Why were the seats becoming more uncomfortable? After all, given how “big back there” Nick always had been, the seats never ever were comfortable for him.
Well, from the day Nick overheard the scout from the Yankees talking with his college baseball coach and putting an end to his dreams of wearing Yankee pinstripes, Nick had given up watching his weight and trying to keep in shape. Why bother? He no longer had anything to keep in shape for. Nick wasn’t consciously trying to put on weight—he just indulged his always-big appetite. Every workday, hearty breakfasts, lunches, and dinners were followed by non-stop snacking in the front of the television in the evening.
When he went to his night classes at Fairleigh Dickinson, he snacked on candy bars while taking notes and always stopped some place afterwards for a “snack”. Nick lived in the heart of New Jersey’s “diner country”—where Routes 46, 4, 17, and 3, not to mention many of the main streets off those highways, seem to be lined by diners, each serving a long menu of delicious, well cooked comfort food and desserts at reasonable prices. In between the diners, every known fast food outlet from Arby’s to Wendy’s could be found. Then, of course, there were hundreds of pizzerias, Italian bakeries and groceries, and higher-end “ristorantes”. So, if Nick didn’t feel like cooking at home, he didn’t have far to go to satisfy his hearty appetite. On weekends, whether out with friends or at home doing chores, Nick grazed continuously.
At his brother Joey’s accounting business, Joey made sure that there was a budget for snacks to go with the ever-ready coffee. The secretaries alternated bringing in pastries every morning. Without even realizing it, Nick took to “grazing” all day long. Out of the five people in the office—Joey, Nick, a paraprofessional, and the two secretaries, Nick grazed the most and by 3 p.m., all the pastries were gone.
Joey, who “Bucket Butt” Nick had always called “Santa Belly” when they were kids, had grown into a large man, taller than Nick by three inches. His always-prominent belly had developed over the years since he graduated from college into a truly amazing mountain of flab, thanks to his wife’s delicious home cooking, businessmen’s lunches with clients, and his indulging the same hearty appetite his kid brother Nick always had. Joey, who stressed dressing professionally on the job to his kid brother, looked the part of a prosperous accountant with his tailor made dress shirts and suit pants straining to contain his massive belly, huge man boobs, lovehandles, and hefty hips and thighs. When Nick started working with him, Joey automatically ordered a second extra-wide office chair for his balloon-butted kid brother. Second chair? Well, Joey’s increasing size had already caused him to need such a chair. Not that his rear end was THAT big, certainly not as big as Nick’s man mountains, but Joey had a quite a spread on him when he sat. He automatically spread his hefty thighs wide when he was seated, allowing his huge belly some room to hang free—so the extra wide chair was just more comfortable.
So, Nick was in the perfect environment to indulge his appetite and enjoy life. Three years after he had graduated from college and learned his dreams of playing baseball for the Yankees were crushed, Nick was 25 years old, close to getting his M.B.A. from Fairleigh Dickinson, and happy with how is life was going. If he had bothered to weigh himself, the scale would have settled at around 380. Half the additional weight he unthinkingly put on had settled on Nick’s already massive rump, flanks, and thighs. His hips had spread to the point that they were now substantially wider than his broad shoulders. Nick’s already-huge buttocks were now so round, full, and prominent that getting into or out of just about any make of motor vehicle was a struggle for him.
But Nick wasn’t bothered by the extra weight. The new flab which hadn’t settled onto his rump padded the rest of his body. When Nick looked in the mirror every morning after showering, he saw how his muscular arms and shoulders were upholstered in flab and how his face had filled out so that his now-chubby cheeks dimpled when he smiled and a wide double chin and thick jowls softened his formerly chiseled chin.The dimples appeared as he observed how the newly-deposited soft flab of his big hairy pecs stretched each of his brown nipples to the size of 50 cent pieces. The sag downward of each flabby pec-turned-mantit was limited by the fact they rested on top of Nick’s new pot belly.
That was what pleased Nick the most as he checked himself out. A belly! Yup, a full-on pot belly–complete with a sunken bellybutton–which sat on his abdomen, set off on each side by his wide lovehandles and which strained the front of his dress shirt at work and automatically ballooned over his beltline. Nick could even feel his new belly shift from side to side and bounce slightly as he walked—nothing like the massive movement of his mountainous rear end, and certainly nothing as big as Joey’s massive front feature, but still—Nick loved his new pot belly.
Love his belly? Isn’t that kind of extreme, you might ask? Well, as Nick enjoyed life after he graduated from college and his entire body expanded because of his lifestyle, he noticed how people reacted to him. After all, he had always been sensitive because of how big he had been “back there” and the constant teasing and taunting and unwelcome attention it brought.
When he went clubbing with his buddies and he’d come across an attractive female and they’d start to chat, she’d use phrases like “you’re such a big cute teddy bear” as she sexily rubbed his bellyflab. At family get-togethers, cousins who he hadn’t seen in a while came up to him and chatted and patted his pot belly and made remarks like “hey, getting pretty big there, Nick!”, and “life’s treating you well, big guy!”. At Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter dinners, always big feasts in his family, his grandmothers, aunties and his mom found excuses to pat Nick’s belly or pinch one of his lovehandles while offering him more food and saying, “you look so good now, Nicky!” or “it’s nice to see how you enjoy my cooking”.
The highlight came one day at work when his brother Joey and he were standing at the coffee machine, each munching on a piece of Entenmann’s pastry, idly chatting about the last Yankees game. Out of the blue, Joey glanced down at his massive gut, then looked over at Nick’s flabby new pot belly, patted it and said smilingly, “way to go, little brother, you’re starting to take after me!”
All these things made him happy, very happy. He was very pleased by all the attention he got as a “fat guy” with a pot belly (small as it was in comparison with his mountainous behind). Not once during the three years which had passed since he had graduated from college did anyone comment on how big he was “back there” or how much “junk he had in his trunk”. His nicknames of “Big Caboose”, “Lardass” and “Bucket Butt” were forgotten as his belly got bigger. It didn’t matter that his hips and massive rear end were bigger than ever—whatever attention he got now was caused by the size of his growing paunch. To Nick it seemed like he fit in now, merely as a fat guy with a growing gut, one of millions. He no longer felt like a freak of nature. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy with the way he looked.
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