SuperHeavyWeight installment 7

The Meet

Joey lumbered across campus as quickly as his overfed build would allow. Each step sent his gut swinging in a huge arc out in front of him. He set his shoulders back to balance the weight, holding each side of his belly to lessen its momentum as it bounced heavily from side to side. He slowed as he approached the gym, growing nervous about what his coach and team would say when they saw him. Even Joey couldn’t deny being an immense porker at this size. But he was determined to finish out his best season ever with a win, no matter what. “I’m just gonna walk – er, waddle - in there like nothing has changed since my last meet, nail this qualifying match, and then go beat the crap out of Brian for getting me into this.”

But serious butterflies wrenched his stomach as he approached the locker room door. Joey had never gotten nervous before a match. His cocky side always came out. But what if he was actually too damn huge to move quickly and gets toppled? What if that ever-present hunger started again? What if Coach wouldn’t even let him wrestle?

Rrrrumble.

“Ah shit. That’s all I need. More fucking hunger pangs to blow my focus.” Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the hunger, he whipped open the door, ready to get blasted for his absence and protruding belly.

But no one was there. Everyone was already out in the gym warming up. “Shit, I better haul ass before I miss everything,” he thought. His nervousness only worsened as he opened his locker and pulled out his singlet, comparing it to the girth of his gut. With his belly now impossible to see beyond, Joey had to dangle the singlet around his stomach by the shoulder straps and work blindly to get his feet through the leg openings. After a few stumbles, he managed to step into it and wriggle his thick legs and beefy ass into the tight fabric. “Damn, good thing these pups stretch.” But he only had it on up to his waist. He looked down at the huge curve of the belly, wondering if his uniform would really be able to cover it. He started tugging, getting the straps up to his elbows, feeling the hard pull of the straining fabric as it hugged the bulge of his gut. He was incredibly nervous now. How could he go out there if he was too damn fat to even wedge himself into his uniform?! With a major exertion, he yanked until the straps finally slid over his broad shoulders. His gut, just barely contained by the lycra, looked like an overstuffed sausage. The incredible tightness made it hard to exhale all the way.

“Okay, man, nothing you can do about this belly now. You just gotta walk out there and pin this guy. You can do it. Don’t take any shit. Nothing’s different but a few extra pounds.”

But then his stomach rumbled again. He slowly headed for the gym, pausing at the coach’s office door to take a deep breath. Another shot of gut wrenching hunger. Joey stared at his gut, honestly amazed at his own size. 

“Shit, any more food and my belly will blow this uniform wide open.” He gripped his ball gut, like he would Brian when he pisses him off. “I’M JUST NOT FEEDING YOU.”

But then he saw it. Coach usually did this during finals, and he was prepared as always. A table heaped with sandwiches and a tub of iced beers stood in the corner of his office. If the team won the first round of matches after weeks of intense practice, the coach always gave them a break after the meet. Joey had a sandwich stuffed in his mouth before he could rethink it. Then he was on the second, the third, fourth, fifth. Panicked that his hunger would ruin his concentration during the meet, he took twenty more minutes and stuffed down a third of the tray. His gut pushed out as much as it could in his painfully tight uniform. If he could even see the front of his belly, he would have noticed the fabric straining to paper-thin.

With a grunt, he forced himself to stop eating. “Okay. Can’t miss the start. Might as well face the music.” He eyed the beers. “Ah shit, what can it hurt? This big gut can absorb it. One will just calm my nerves.” He ripped off the cap and drained the bottle. He pounded a second one for good measure, sighing as his nerves finally eased. He squared his shoulders, which shoved his belly out in full glory, and waddled out into the arena.

The team was busy warming up, paired out across the gym. Joey lumbered up to the corner of the first mat and took a deep breath. He set his legs apart to support himself and tipped his gut toward the mat as he tried to get into a starting stance. He hugged his belly and prepared to wrestle.

“Okay guys, one of you has to help me warm up here. I’ve missed a few weeks and gotta get ready here fast. Don’t want to pull any muscles.”

His two teammates froze at the sight of him. Too stunned to talk, one dropped to the mat with a thud, gape jawed and wide eyes. The other found his voice. “J-J-Joey?? What in the hell happened to you buddy?? I didn’t even recognize you.” He inched toward Joey like he was a bomb about to explode. “Where in the hell have you been? Coach has been asking all of us about you. We thought you flew the coop. Looks more like you ate the entire farm!” He was up next to Joey’s side, touching his gut in utter amazement. “Is – is – this thing for REAL??”

The guy moved around to the front edge of the gut separating them. Joey couldn’t even see him from the chest down. He could only feel the guy’s hand pressing into his belly.

“Whoa, you’re gonna split this uniform if you exhale too hard. It’s yanked so tight I can make out your belly button, Joey-boy. Man, what the fuck have you been eating to pack on this much weight? You know this is wrestling finals, not some eating contest, right??” The other wrestler overcame his shock, started to chuckle and chimed in.

“Joe, dude, you look like someone drained and oil tanker of beer in there. You tryin’ to fatten up to feed a small country or somethin’?” The two of them burst into laughter.

“Man, when Coach said heavyweight class, he didn’t mean fucking SUMO, Fatboy!” The guy was now swatting Joey’s belly, looking back at his pal. “Man, you gotta feel this thing. It’s hard as a rock.” He spread his arms out as far as they would go and clamped them around Joey’s belly. “Holy shit! I can’t even reach around him.” Encased in his ultra-tight unitard, Joey’s belly looked like a perfectly spherical lycra balloon. It dwarfed his teammate, who was lifting and dropping Joey’s belly like a giant bouncing ball.

“Fuck, Joey, we had a few kegs left over from a party last weekend. Wish we had you around Sunday night to drain ‘em off.”

“Yeah. Dude, looks like there’s enough room in this monster for at least four of ‘em, keg and all!”

“Joey! Hanson, Jones, back off!”

All three of them jumped at the stern yell from their coach.

He stormed up to Joey and stopped right in front of his gut. He set his hands on his hips and whistled, surveying the endless curve of his star wrestler’s stunning stomach.

“What on EARTH have you DONE to yourself?”

“Coach, I – I can explain. My roommate hooked me into this experi - ”

“Damn it, Joe. I’ve always cut you extra slack because you nail every opponent when you have a little extra meat on you, but now you’ve done it.”  Coach leaned right into Joey’s belly and glared into his eyes. “Now, at the start of finals, I’ve got a hole in my roster because you’ve gone and blown yourself up too damn huge to even compete!”

“But coach! You gotta let me wrestle. I mean – I – I know I put on a few extra – Shit – I couldn’t help it – Brian – the pills – I got SO hungry – killer hunger, Coach. I just couldn’t stop - ”

“I don’t know WHAT you’re babbling about, but you might as well head back to the locker room, Big Boy. You’ve eaten yourself right over the weight limit. I’m certain of that!”

“Aw, Coach, come on – please. At least let me weigh in. I gotta finish out the season. See what the ref says, huh? You just gotta -”

“No point. You’ve blown it, Fatso. Seems like it was more important to you to ditch practices and gorge yourself into oblivion, and you’re obviously too huge now to fall within weight. Hell, you were practically peaked out before you disappeared on me to feed yourself up like some kind of prize pig! I can’t even IMAGINE what you’re weighing with a gut like THIS.” Coach pressed his fist firmly into Joey’s belly.

“Oooof. Just let me - warm up and - get on the scale, Coach. Come on! Can’t you -”

And then it started. Everyone turned and stared at Joey as he started to moan. Coach looked down at Joey’s belly, convinced he heard a rumble. “What the hell?”

Joey winced and started to breathe like a rhino in labor. He reached around his belly. He felt it swell. He was sure of it. His belly was growing before his eyes. It was starting to blow up, pushing his arms out by the second. He felt the lycra of his uniform tug even tighter. He could almost hear it creak as it strained to cover his increasing mass. The straps were digging hard into his beefy shoulders. He felt a warm spot up against the far side of his belly, the side that he hadn’t seen in two weeks. It was Coach. His belly was ballooning up so fast it was pressing right into his coach.

“Joey. JOEY!” His coach couldn’t help but grab the belly that was inflating out toward him. “Son, I don’t know WHAT the hell is going on in this gut of yours, but you BETTER get over here and SIT your ASS down before - ”

Coach stumbled back a step. Joey’s belly had ballooned up by a good foot in every direction. It was bulging out fatter and rounder, swelling like someone had shoved an air hose down his throat and turned the pressure to full blast. His shoulder straps hit their limit. The fabric started to tear. Joey was now holding his breath, teetering toward his coach, totally unable to balance the weight of his swelling gut. His groans grew deeper. His belly blew up another foot. His face grew redder. His pecs pushed up toward his face as his gut ballooned up and out. Coach took another step back. Joey’s belly blew up to shove into him again.

“Holy shit Coach! He’s gonna blow!”

“AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

BLAM – BLAM

With a huge snap, the straps blew apart, ricocheting into Coach’s chest.

RRRRRRIIIIP

Joey’s uniform started to split right up the sides. His legs started to wobble. He was rocking, trying to gain his balance, wondering if his belly had finally stopped ballooning. He tipped forward, unable to pull his massive weight back upright. He flopped forward and landed with a huge thud, pinning his coach under his mighty belly. Everyone heard a crunch. Joey just might have broken one of Coach’s ribs. Joey felt himself rising as his gut notched up even bigger. His gut was SO tight! One more inch of swelling, and he would surely bust open. He could feed Coach trying to wriggle free underneath him.

But then it stopped. Thank God! His belly had stopped swelling just in time. And there lay the jock and his coach, separated by the tightly inflated sphere. There was practically no give as Joey leaned on his gut, crushing his victim. Coach was struggling for air, looking up and seeing nothing but belly. Joey panted with exhaustion, arms flopped down against his gigantic belly. His knees didn’t even hit the mat, just his feet.

“Get . . . . offfff!” Coach gasped weakly.

“Well shit, Coach. At least you know he can still pin a guy.”

“Dude, he’s turning blue. We gotta get this Blimp off of him!”

It took four guys to hoist Joey back to standing. Finally, he was upright, the shredded uniform dropped down to his waist, fully exposing his pumped-up belly. A paramedic rushed over to check out the coach’s rib, and Joey slowly turned to waddle out of the gym.

“Joey – dude – where are you going? You better let the doc here check that thing out!”

“I’m going to flatten my roommate.”

The team stood dumbfounded, one of them jumping back to clear the swing of Joey’s belly as he waddled away.

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