Those Stubborn College Pounds (One-Off) (Patreon)

Author's note:  I struggled with writers block today trying to work on "Fed Up" and "Mia's Junior Year" so I ended up taking a break and reading "You Made Her So Fat" by ChubbaDubDub ( You Made Her so Fat by ChubbaDubDub on DeviantArt ) and really enjoyed it!  So short and sweet!  I thought as a palette cleanser of sorts I'd take a stab at writing a one-off inspired by it.  YMHSF is a Feeder-feedee or perhaps feeder-vanilla type of story so I wanted to avoid that dynamic in my story.  My story is also almost twice as long (at nearly 3,500 words) so I hope the pacing does not suffer as a result.  Anyway, that's all for today, I hope you enjoy it!  Please let me know what you thought of it in the comments, I wrote this in a different style than I'm used to, so constructive criticism would be great.  Have a great night!  -Polaris

Those Stubborn College Pounds (One-Off)

By Polarisdreamer

Moving in freshman year you smiled and nodded, as your older stepsister warned you to keep your appetite in check. According to her, gaining weight in college was easy, but losing it was nearly impossible. She was right. All she wanted was for you to learn from her mistakes, so you wouldn’t end up gaining a surplus of 60 plump pounds during the process of obtaining a degree like she had, but you weren’t listening.

Why would you be? Unlike her, you’d never had an issue with your weight. You had an unusually powerful appetite, but you possessed an equally powerful metabolism, lived an active athletic lifestyle, and were naturally tall and lean. Your teammates in high school even used to treat your massive appetite like a party trick. All you could think about was how much fun lay upon your horizon.

You’d been running all summer long and were entering college in pristine physical condition, unlike your new roommate. In your mind, you were invincible. Even I, your soon-to-be friend from across the hall, was jealous of your figure. That night after orientation, you accompanied some new friends, similarly physically flawless, vain and naive peers, including myself, over to a party off campus, you got very drunk, and ended the night scarfing down some pizza our new friends ordered to help soak up some of the alcohol you’d so carelessly sucked down.

All that indulgence made you feel a little bloated. You even blushed when one of our new friends patted your little food baby and teased sarcastically, “Oooff that bellyyyy is starting to show! Better be careful Carina!”

You laughed it off, and took in no less than three more slices of greasy pizza to satiate your greedy gut.

This turned into a common occurrence for you during our first semester of college, but in your mind, indulging was what the first year of university was supposed to be all about, right? Little did you know that this big change in your lifestyle was slowly transforming the perfect figure you’d taken for granted all your life.

Blissfully ignorant of what was happening, you ignored any warning signs that might awaken you to the truth. Shrinking wardrobe?  It was those damn communal washing machines’ fault. Besides, your parents so graciously gave you a credit card for emergencies, and not having an outfit to party in on a Thursday night certainly qualified, right? Why not buy a new outfit to celebrate yet another night of drinking, eating, and partying?

Even though you were an athlete in high school, you really knew nothing about health and fitness. Your diet consisted of leftover pizza, huge portion sizes of cheese and pasta, and lots of alcohol. Exercise? Well, exercise happened on the dance floor, right? Surely the amount of dancing you were doing was enough to burn off all the unhealthy food you were “Fueling” your body with.

As your first semester continued, so did your bad habits.  You would sit around all day, snacking consistently in order to get through the boredom of college assignments.  Little did you know that all of these bad habits were not only making you gain weight but also beginning to impact your parents’ bank account.

Over winter break, your stepsister tried to warn you about the 10 pounds that had found their way onto your formerly fit waistline during your first semester, but you wouldn’t listen. It was only 10 pounds after all, you couldn’t even see the difference when you looked in a mirror, but your mother could.

In response, she made your stepfather take away your credit card, thinking that would put a halt to your late-night snacking habits, and help you grow more responsible, but it only made things worse. In order to keep funding your indulgent college lifestyle, you spitefully picked up a part-time job at a local restaurant the second you returned to school in the spring.

Working Sunday’s, Monday’s and Tuesdays didn’t hamper your social life at all, and as a perk of the job, you were given free food on breaks, which of course, you would eat without a second thought. Who in their right mind would turn down free food? Certainly not you.

Even though you’d quit sports, you still thought of yourself as an athlete, you were used to eating anything you wanted without gaining a pound. As the semester continued you hardly noticed that you were continuing to grow softer each passing week.  Slowly but surely, the pounds continued piling on.

By spring break, you’d officially packed on the freshman 15, or 20 judging from the size your breasts had swelled, but so had some of our friends, even your chubby roommate, so nobody in our circle made you feel out of place, except maybe me since I’d kept myself in pristine shape, unlike you. It was obvious you’d lost some muscle tone and that parts of your body were softer than they once were, especially your newly acquired beer gut, but you were still hot, sexy and beautiful compared to the average American coed. Right?

At times a voice in the back of your mind must have warned you that it was time to lay off the sweets, cut back on the alcohol, kick the bad habits, hit the gym, and get back in shape, but since you were having the time of your life, you ignored it in favor of slurping down another cheap beer on the beach with the cute guy you’d just met.

You didn’t know it at first, but he was all wrong for you; however, since he was your first true encounter with “feelings” you ignored the red flags. As the semester continued, you would wait up, night after night for him to come and hook up with you. Snacking to alleviate your crimpling anticipation. He never took you on a date, not even once, but you had found comfort in this guy who was using you. You craved his validation for reasons you didn’t consciously understand.

Your friends, your roommate, your stepsister, me, even your own mother over the phone told you to get rid of him, and eventually, you listened, after you found out he’d started having sex with a different girl from our hallway. One who kept in much better shape than you did.

Newly single, and back on the dating market, it was only now, at the end of the semester, that you realized you’d let yourself go. You didn’t listen to the pinch of your waistband, your reflection in the mirror, or comments from friends like me. You listened to the fact that guy’s interest in you had noticeably fallen.

10 pounds gained over the fall semester of our freshman year had snowballed to 30 by the end of the spring semester. At this point was apparent to you and everyone you interacted with that you gained more weight than the average freshman 15.  It was enough to make your previously designated “fat” jeans a little too tight to properly squeeze up those growing thighs or around that thicker butt of yours. Forget about being able to button them up, let’s be honest, you were long past that. Crop tops and belly shirts were no longer standard clothing for you, your belly had gotten too large for you to willingly show it off anymore. Even your face was starting to look a little fuller. You must have noticed when looking in the mirror.

With summer on the horizon, you vowed to “work on yourself” but losing weight required discipline and motivation you’d never had to acquire before. Your stepsister offered to help coach you, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to accept help from someone who’s ass was fatter than yours, even if the difference in size between the two of you was quickly evaporating with each and every pound you added to your swelling and softening figure.

Your solo fitness journey was a bumpy ride. You fell into the trap of trying to find a quick and easy fix to your larger gluttony problem. You tried all the popular fad diets and wasted time and money on miracle fitness products that were not beneficial to you in the slightest. You’d lose a few pounds restricting yourself, only to eventually give up and binge eat your way above where you were when you started.  One step forward, two steps back, all summer.

You hid your fattened body from family and friends with flattering clothing, and camera angles on social media, but there was nothing you could do to hide the truth from people in person anymore. Despite your efforts, you were still gaining weight. In desperation you tried to sweat off those stubborn college pounds. Walking was no trouble, but you had no patience for that. So, you tried running. After all, you were once a star runner in high school, how hard could it be to get back into the habit of running a few miles in the morning and afternoon?

Pretty hard.

In your new chubbier body, running was tiresome. Uncomfortable. Even painful at times. Now that you were so much heavier, moving around on your feet was far more difficult.  After a few hundred meters, you’d feel yourself start so slow down as a dull ache deep in the pit of your mushy stomach began to grow more and more painful until you were forced to halt your progress, lean over, and catch your breath like some plump suburban soccer mom out for a jog for the first time in years.

With a summer of wasted effort behind you, you returned to college in the Fall 15 or 20 pounds heavier than when you left. Nearly 50 pounds heavier than you were the year before. You found out very quickly once you returned to school that you’d crossed a line.

Flattering clothing and sucking in your gut couldn’t hide the fact that you’d become overweight by most of our friends’ standards. It was obvious to anyone at a glance that this chubbier version of you was entirely alien to the flawless athlete you appeared to be not too long ago.

To make matters worse, every single one of our friends who put on the freshman 15, lost it over the summer, except you. Now you were the heaviest among us. It must have been humiliating for you to realize your status in our group of hot and popular friends had fallen from de facto pack leader to peripheral fat friend we only kept around to make us all look better. In no time at all, you became the butt of everyone’s jokes.

You must have heard the whispers behind your back:

“It’s so sad, Carina really let herself go.”

“How did she get so fat??”

“Somebody sure didn’t go hungry this summer.”

As your new roommate for our sophomore year, I was given a front row seat from which to observe you continue to fall further into the depths of your own gluttony. You resumed your fattening part-time job, and incessant partying habit that caused your weight problem to balloon out of control in the first place. Instead of working out, and trying to eat more responsibly, you were once again porking out.

It was insane, you used to be an athlete, but now all you did day in and day out was lie in your bed and gulp down carbs, carbs and more carbs. French fries, potato chips, pasta, rice, it made no difference to you, did it? If it was carby, you ate it, especially junk food. Your abs were long gone, in favor of a doughy beer gut, your arms had grown soft and untoned and that thigh gap you once sported had long since closed as your thighs have blown up.

It seemed to me anytime I happened to enter our room that you were stuffing your face with something. An Oreo ice cream sandwich one day, a chicken quesadilla with extra guac AND bacon another. It occurred to me that overeating for you had become a regular occurrence. Living with you made me painfully aware of that. You packed our room so obnoxiously full of snacks that even someone with my considerable willpower couldn’t resist having a little indulgent bite here and there.

Looking past your flaws, I tried to be a good friend and question your bad habits when it felt especially egregious, but what would you always say if I asked you if you really wanted to eat too much?

“I’m having a cheat day, Laura. Leave me alone. Unless you want to share?”

OR

“I’m going to be bad today. I’m just too hungry.”

As sophomore year progressed, it was apparent to everyone, except maybe you, that you had given up and accepted your new place at the bottom of our hallway’s social hierarchy. I don’t think your next wake up call happened until Halloween, two months into the semester. All the candy you brought into our room was a problem, but the bigger issue for you was your shrinking wardrobe.

You’d tried to squeeze yourself into some remotely sexy dress, but all anyone saw was a blubbery chubby chick trying to pretend she was still skinny. I thought my costume was a little tight, but you were positively bulging out in every direction. One of our friends was even bold enough to say:

“Carina… I don’t think that dress was made for your umm… body type.”

The second you took in a breath to respond, we all hear an embarrassingly loud, *RIP!*

Your face blushed fiercely, everyone’s attention turned to your fat ass, which had just shredded your best hope of looking presentable enough to find a partner drunk enough to have sex with you. You muttered something about amazon sending you the dress in the wrong size, and retreated into our room, not to be seen again all night.

The next day, I knew the incident had gotten to you when you asked me to help you lose weight and get back in shape. You admitted to me you’d had enough of fighting your weight by yourself. Being the good friend I am, I agreed to be your personal trainer. The first thing I did was take you to the gym and force your fat ass to get on a scale. Do you remember what you weighed that day?

190 pounds.

You’d somehow managed to pack on 20 pounds in two months! Taking pity on you, I spent the next hour guiding you around the gym, forcing you to try some machines, and eventually a cardio bike. I ended up skipping my own workout to help you, but that’s just the kind of good friend I am.

As the semester progressed, despite my help, it was clear my expertise wasn’t enough to help you lose weight. Your sleeping schedule was horrible, probably making you feel even hungrier than you needed to be on a daily basis. Then there were all those liquid calories you would consume partying every other night and the fact you tended to eat much more food when you thought you were being healthy. You even used the workouts I put you through to justify your indulgent eating habits. Even I would reward myself on occasion after a good workout, but you did it every day.

It was impossible for you to lose weight when every inch of your digestive track was chock full of junk food 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Although I didn’t force you to get on a scale before you went home for winter break, I knew you’d eclipsed 200 pounds, probably by a lot.

But I never got to find out, because you never returned to school in the Spring. For whatever reason, you dropped out. Maybe your parents made you do it. Or maybe your grades just weren’t up to snuff. Or maybe you realized college wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. Who knows? Certainly not me. I didn’t reach out to you to ask, and you didn’t reach out to me. We just went our separate ways, didn’t we?

Our friends hardly batted an eye at your disappearance, although for me, the void you left was more substantial. Even though I looked down on you, and even took part in some of the teasing you endured, you were always a good friend to me, and I missed you. As much as I hated the sound of you stuffing your face every second of every day, I think I preferred it to the silence of your absence.

Our crew eventually noticed I was a little upset that you’d left and did their part taking care of me. They took turns taking me out to lunch to cheer me up, treated me to extra dessert in the cafeteria, and even offered to help do my laundry now and then so I wouldn’t have to run up and down the steps all the time.

I didn’t think anything of all this kindness until the spring semester neared its end, and I was struggling to button my own pair of “fat” jeans. I’d been the only one of our crew to avoid the freshman 15 yet somehow once you left, I’d put on the sophomore 30!

I tried losing weight over the summer, but like you, things didn’t go exactly how I had planned. Sure, I’d lost five pounds by the time July rolled around, but I’d also broken my leg thanks to a pretty severe fall one day while I was jogging.

Cut off from my ability to exercise, I reached for food for comfort. Thanks to my sedentary summer, I entered junior year 20 pounds heavier than when I’d left it. Now I was the one nearly 50 pounds heavier than I was the year before. Like you, I found out very quickly once I returned to school that I’d crossed the same line you once did all those many months ago.

Flattering clothing and sucking in my gut couldn’t hide the fact that I’d become overweight by most of our friends’ standards. It was obvious to anyone at a glance that this chubbier version of me was entirely alien to the flawless athlete I’d appeared to be not too long ago.

To make matters worse, I was now the heaviest among our group of friends. However, for some reason, I didn’t become the butt of everyone’s jokes. Perhaps because my injury had caused my weight to spiral out of control and not some perceived character flaw, I was being spared having to suffer the humiliation I knew you went through.

I didn’t hear whispers behind my back. I received love and support to my face:

“I got you a big dinner Laura, since your lunch was so small.”

“Here, have another serving, we can’t have you wasting away! I know you’re still hungry.”

“No need to blush, it doesn’t matter that your shirt won’t stay down.  You need to keep eating to keep your strength up.”

A lot of the love and support our friend showed me revolved around food, in fact most of it did, perhaps that’s why I entered junior year a little over 170 pounds, and exited it closer to 260… They spoiled me rotten.

That’s right, thanks to my injury, and our friends coddling, I’m fatter than you ever were. At least around the time I last saw you. Haha, it’s like they’re trying to make me fat! Can you imagine?

Anyway, all this is to say, along with gaining a ton of weight this year, I’ve also gained a new perspective. I see now that I should have been a better friend to you no matter what you weighed. I know you dropped out and everything, but perhaps next year you’d like to visit sometime?

Our friends are great and everything, but if I’m being honest, you’re the one person I wish I got to know a little bit better. Also, now that my leg’s healed, I’m wondering if you have any tips on how to lose weight as a… bigger girl. Those stubborn college pounds are no joke. Your stepsister was right freshman year, gaining weight in college is easy, but losing it is nearly impossible.