"I'm never going to pass this class," Tom thought to himself as he slammed shut his Calculus book, "This is only the second week of classes and I'm already lost." It was the start of Tom's Junior year at college; for his first 2 years he had done pretty well, but Calculus had him stumped. The worst part of it was there was going to be a test on Friday; here it was Wednesday and he had no clue what was going on. He rubbed his eyes and decided to grab a snack before wrestling with math again. He crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator, opened it, and stood there trying to decide what to munch on. He rested one elbow on the refrigerator door, and ran his other hand under his tee shirt and across his soft belly, trying to ignore the bulge hanging over the top of his tight Levi's.

Tom had been a jock in high school, playing football and baseball, working out constantly. When he started college he was carrying a firm 170 pounds on his 5'10" frame, his lean body nicely filling out the 31" waist on his jeans.

During his first year at school the infamous "freshman 10", the 10 or so pounds the average freshman gains at college, had found him in the form of 13 pounds and a spare tire around the middle. Bad habits formed during that first year had been the cause, little or no time to work out accompanied by late night munching, fast food on weekends, abundant quantities of well prepared meals and desserts in the dormitory, and Tom's biggest downfall, beer. Tom rarely missed the opportunity for beer, whether it was a couple with the guys at night, or large quantities poured down at weekend keg parties.

Sophomore year was more of the same, adding 12 more pounds and a definite bulge to Tom's waist. Long gone were the size 31 jeans; the 34's he wore now were getting very snug. This year, his Junior year, Tom had moved off campus to his own apartment; one of his goals was to get rid of the weight he had put on.

With a shrug Tom slapped his belly, took out the gallon of milk and shut the door. On his way back to the table he grabbed a large glass and a package of Oreos. He wasn't going to buy them, but they were his favorites, and besides one or two couldn't hurt. He reopened his Calculus book and began pouring over the equations, absently popping in cookies and refilling his glass as he studied. After an hour of frustrated attempts at deciphering calculus Tom leaned back and massaged his temples. "This is hopeless" he muttered. He glanced over at the cookie package; two thirds of the cookies were gone. "Great" he moaned, "I'm going to flunk this class and get fatter too. I don't need this!" He promised himself that was the last fattening thing he was going to buy. "May as well get rid of the temptation" he thought, refilling his glass. As he gulped down the rest of the cookies he glanced at the calculus syllabus. At the bottom of the page he noticed the words "Extra Help Tuesdays and Thursdays, 4:00 PM, Professor Knapp's office, Math Building Room 406." With a yawn, Tom thought "Guess I know where I'll be tomorrow". He stood up and stretched, rubbing his full stomach. On his way to bed he paused by the mirror in his bedroom. He sucked in his gut, and then forced it way out. He grabbed 2 handfuls of fat, and growled "this has GOT to go!"

The next morning Tom climbed out of bed and hopped on the scale. "One ninety-seven" he groaned, "that's 2 more pounds I've gained!" He looked in the mirror and told himself "Today the diet starts and this flab is history." As the day progressed Tom kept repeating this phrase to himself. Sitting in his 2:00 Calculus class he was pretty pleased. He had only a glass of juice for breakfast, and had munched on an apple at lunch time. "No problem," he thought to himself ignoring the rumbling in his stomach, "this gut is history." He tried to concentrate on the lecture but was as confused now as he was last night. His mind wandered, and he found himself watching the professor as he lectured.

Professor Knapp was in his mid-forties, with dark hair graying at the temples and a mustache. He was an inch or so shorter than Tom, and had broad shoulders and chest. He also had a fat, round gut that strained against the buttons of his shirt and hung over his slacks, which he wore low under his protruding belly. He tipped the scales, Tom figured, at around 240 pounds. Tom had been somewhat mesmerized by that gut since the first day of class, noticing how solid it looked, and how it jutted out from the professor's midsection. "Looks like he swallowed a beach ball," Tom thought; "that'll be me if I don't lose mine now."

After class Tom went to Professor Knapp's office. He knocked and heard Knapp's deep voice say "Come in". When Tom entered he saw Knapp was seated at his desk grading papers, a half eaten box of donuts next to him. "I'll be right with you," Knapp said. As Tom waited his eyes wandered around the small office, coming to rest on a picture hanging on the wall. It was of a football player, dressed in an old university uniform. Tom looked more closely and realized it was Professor Knapp, although a younger, much slimmer version. "That was me 20 years ago" a voice behind Tom spoke up. Knapp had stood up and was looking over Tom's shoulder. Tom turned to face him. "Kind of hard to believe, isn't it?" Knapp said with a chuckle, running a hand over his belly. "Had 2 great seasons, then hurt my knee. Spent the next 2 years on the bench getting fat, and the next 20 years getting even fatter." He ran an appraising eye over Tom. "Looks like you're in the same boat," he said, poking a finger into the soft roll at Tom's side. "Play any sports in high school?" he asked.

Tom nodded, blushing furiously. Who was this porker to be calling him fat?

"Got to college, gained some weight?" Knapp continued. Tom nodded again. "Happens to a lot of guys, I see it all the time. I remember a guy a few years back..." Knapp went on to tell Tom several "horror" stories of guys coming to college and gaining large amounts of weight. "But enough of that," he concluded. He shut the door, sat back down and said "I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss fat bellies and out of shape athletes, although you're looking at an expert. What can I do for you?" As he spoke, Knapp selected a donut from the box and offered one to Tom. Tom's stomach rumbled, reminding him of how little he had eaten all day; he figured one donut couldn't hurt. He also found himself sort of intrigued by his professor, and had actually kind of enjoyed his stories. As he munched on a jelly donut he explained his dilemma, he was totally lost in the calculus class.

He opened his book to the first chapter, and Knapp began explaining things to him, step by step. Slowly, Tom began understanding the information. A while later he glanced at his watch. "Oh my God, it's seven o'clock" he exclaimed; "I'm sorry I really should let you go. Oh, and sorry about your donuts" he added, glancing at the empty box.

"Don't worry about it" Knapp said with a grin, "we split 'em, 3 for you and 3 for me. By the way, are things making sense to you now?"

"Better," Tom answered "'though parts of chapter 2 are still a little fuzzy."

"I've got an idea" Knapp said then, "Why don't you come over to my house? We could grab a bite to eat and then continue."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Tom said.

"Nonsense," Knapp replied, "besides, that test is tomorrow, and you need to be ready for it."

Tom paused, then said "Well, if it isn't too much of a bother." He grinned a little and said "Besides, I wouldn't mind hearing a few more of your stories about fat jocks."

Knapp laughed, and said "I've got plenty of them."

Tom met Knapp at his house a short time later, where the first thing Knapp did was to break out 2 beers. He handed one to Tom and told him to make himself comfortable while he started dinner. "Spaghetti and meatballs okay with you?" Knapp called from the kitchen.

"Fine with me'" Tom yelled back from the couch, thinking of his new diet and feeling a little guilty. He looked at the beer in his hand, his other hand dropping to his gut. "I really shouldn't," he thought, "but I am a guest, and besides he's going out of his way to help me, I can't be rude. Besides, other than the donuts I've been good all day. What harm could one small helping do?" Knapp came back in and handed Tom another beer. "Thanks, Professor" Tom said.

"Call me Jeff," Knapp said, sitting himself on the couch, "We're not in class right now." Jeff took a long drink of his beer, then said "I think we have time for another tale of college weight gain before dinner." He propped his feet on the coffee table, and rested one hand on his ample belly, slowly stroking it as he spoke. "I remember this soccer player, about your height, a real beanpole when he started..."

Tom listened intently as Jeff described the changing body of the soccer player, thinking of the roll around his own middle. "...ended up somewhere around 220," Jeff concluded. He took another swig of his beer, reached over and playfully swatted Tom's gut. "So don't worry," he added, "there's still hope for you." As Jeff went to check on dinner Tom grabbed the growing love handles at his own sides and thought to himself "Yeah, hope for what?"

Walking into the kitchen, Tom's plans for a small helping died rather quickly. Jeff was ladling out huge mounds of pasta and meatballs onto two plates. Tom wanted to say "Enough" or "Too much," but his protest died in his throat as he caught a whiff of the tempting smells from the table, and realized how hungry he was. Jeff handed him another beer, passed him one of the plates, and said "Dig in." Both men tore into the food, and when they were done Jeff refilled their plates, and again they devoured the food. Tom lost track of how many times Jeff refilled their plates, and lost count of how many beers they drank. The whole meal became a blur of gluttony.

He vaguely remembered unbuttoning his jeans, to stop them from digging into his bloating gut; Jeff had done the same. Tom had no idea how long the meal lasted; he only knew that when it was over he was full, very full; actually too full. His stomach was stretched farther than it had ever been, so far that it ached from the load of food that had been stuffed into it. He gently rubbed his gut, surprised at how hard it felt, and how round it looked. It reminded him of a miniature version of Jeff's, which made Tom a little uneasy. It also excited him on some deeper level.

Jeff stood up, his swollen paunch pushing the buttons of his shirt apart. He slowly undid his shirt buttons, exposing his bloated, hairy stomach. He walked around the table to where Tom was seated and said "You wanted fat ex-jocks, well here's one for you." Tom reached up and ran a hand over Jeff's belly, thrilled at how hard and round and full it felt. Jeff reached out and gently pulled Tom's face closer, burying it in the mound of fat at his middle. Tom let out a low moan and then pressed his face deeper into Jeff's bloated belly. Jeff grabbed Tom's shirt and pulled it off, exposing Tom's swollen stomach. He stepped back and said "Just sit tight and relax while I get dessert." Tom opened his mouth to protest; Jeff laid a finger over Tom's lips, saying "I know you really want it. I know you really want to keep going. I can see it in your eyes. Deep down you like being a pig, you get turned on by that gut you're growing. I've seen plenty of guys just like you. I know you want to eat even more, and deep down you know it too." Jeff walked off, leaving Tom to ponder his words.

Tom looked down at his bloated gut and felt a stirring deep in his crotch. He began to realize how true Jeff's words were, thinking of all the times he could have lost the weight but found some excuse not to, or sabotaged his own efforts, or how much he just plain old enjoyed pigging out. Jeff walked back over, placing a large bowl piled with ice cream, syrup, and whipped cream in front of Tom, and another next to it, and pulled up a chair and sat down. "Well, did you decide? Are you going to keep pretending to diet, keep pretending you don't like getting fat? Or are you going to be who you really want to be? I saw how excited you got listening to those stories I told you. You want to be one of those guys, one of those overweight, out of shape jocks, don't you?"

Tom could only nod.

"And I'm going to help you, just like I helped them. I'll be your coach, your belly-building coach." Jeff reached over and rubbed Tom's gut. "Such potential," he murmured. "And don't worry, you won't be eating alone, everything you eat, I'll eat. While you're getting fat, I'll be getting even fatter, building my own belly." He patted his paunch; "After all, I can't have the student getting fatter than his coach." He leaned closer and whispered "Not unless he really wants to."

They attacked the mounds of ice cream with a new sense of purpose, Tom knowing now that every spoonful he shoved into his mouth was that many more calories, and fuel for expanding his gut. Jeff finished first, and massaged Tom's gut as he ate. "Come on, boy" he whispered "a little more to go. Make your coach proud." He groped the growing bulge in Tom's crotch, whispering "That's it, lick the bowl, get all of it, be the pig you want to be." Tom finished, his belly hurting, but wanting more.

He looked at Jeff, asking "Is there any more?" After years of denial Tom wanted to keep going, wanted to eat until he burst. His belly had never been this full, and he wanted it even fuller. Jeff stood, and pulled Tom to his feet. They stood there, belly to belly. "You really want more?" Jeff asked.

Tom nodded, saying "Come on, coach, feed me more. I want my gut to be just like yours." Jeff put a large apple pie in front of Tom, and stroked Tom's bloated gut as he shoveled in handfuls of pie, washed down by a quart of heavy cream. When Tom was finished Jeff led him to the bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He left, and came back with 2 dozen donuts. He sat on the bed and put Tom's head in his lap; Tom snuggled against Jeff's paunch. "I picked these up on the way home" Jeff said "I had a feeling we might need them. One for you and one for me."

Tom just opened his mouth impatiently and said "Give it to me Coach. I want it." Jeff shoved a cream donut into Tom's waiting mouth, his free hand stroking Tom's swollen belly as it filled. Tom thrilled as he felt the cream from the donut run down his throat, reaching down and stroking his cock as the Jeff shoved another donut in. Jeff fed himself donuts as he stuffed more donuts into Tom. With one box gone Jeff paused to allow things to settle, thrilling at the bloating of his own and Tom's bellies. Tom opened his eyes, one hand still gently stroking his cock, which was wet with precum, and asked "Is there any more?"

Jeff paused for a second, amazed that the young man still wanted more after all he had already eaten, and amazed too that he himself still wanted to stuff more into himself. He asked Tom "How badly do you want it?" Tom tilted his head to one side and began licking Jeff's paunch.

"I'll do anything you ask Coach. Just feed me more." Jeff laid Tom back on the pillows. He then hoisted Tom's legs in the air and said "Open your mouth." As he fed Tom a jelly donut Jeff rammed his dick into Tom's ass, plunging it in up to the hilt. As he pounded Tom's ass his paunch rubbed across Tom's bloated gut, grinding the fat together. Tom moaned, feeling incredibly aroused by the whole scene getting filled on both ends, while 2 fat, swollen bodies rubbed together. He reached into the box and began feeding himself, reaching up and shoving donuts into Jeff's mouth as Jeff began fucking him harder and faster. With a moan filled with pain from the pressure pushing his belly beyond any limit he had thought he had and the pleasure from the same overstuffed feeling Tom blew his load, coating both their bellies with sticky cum. With a series of grunts Jeff shot his load deep into Tom, and then slid down and licked the cum off of Tom's swollen gut. They lay next to each other, bellies touching, as Jeff whispered "I've never seen this kind of potential. You're going to be my masterpiece. You're going to have a gut that we're both going to be proud of." Tom fell asleep sucking the cum and the crumbs and the jelly off of Jeff's fingers.

Tom's grades in Calculus increased dramatically from that point on, as did the size of his belly. By the end of that semester he had moved into Jeff's house, and decided to take time off from school to concentrate on his eating. Jeff would leave the table heaped with food for Tom to eat when he left for work in the morning; he would stop home at midday and restock the food Tom had devoured. In the evenings Jeff prepared huge dinners, swimming in gravies and rich sauces, with loaves of bread smothered in butter, followed by a constant stream of pies, cakes, cookies, ice cream, and beer. Tom's days were spent on the couch, constantly eating, his belly constantly distended and full of food. He spent most times naked, since clothes only got in the way and restricted his growing gut. He was amazed at how quickly he could put weight on now that he focused all of his time and attention on it.

By May, when classes ended and Jeff's teaching duties were over, Tom was weighing in at 265 pounds, and showing no signs of slowing down. Jeff was tipping the scales at 270 pounds by then, his furry belly looking like an over-inflated beach ball. "Almost bigger than me," Jeff had said when they were weighing each other.

"I'm going to do it, Coach, I'm going to get fatter than you," Tom replied. Tom and Jeff spent the entire summer eating, drinking, and feeding each other. They would gorge themselves until their bellies ached, and they could barely move; after a brief nap they would wake up and start cramming more food into themselves, forcing their bloated bellies out even farther. Tom was determined to grow bigger than Jeff, who did his best to stay a few pounds ahead of Tom.

One morning in early August Tom stepped on the scale. "What's it say, Coach?" he asked.

Jeff let out a low whistle; "three hundred and seven pounds," he answered, stroking Tom's paunch. Jeff stepped on the scale next; it read 305. The pupil had finally outdone his Coach. But they didn't stop there. Jeff had never fattened someone to this size before. All of his previous students had gained 40 or 50 pounds, grown a nice round beer gut, and then leveled off. Tom kept right on going. Jeff was also amazed by the size of his own belly; he had never weighed this much before, and it excited him; he wanted to see how big he could get.

September came, and with it a new batch of Calculus students. Jeff was sitting in his office one day, grading papers. His free hand slowly rubbed his paunch, which by now rested on his thighs. He was weighing in now at 330; Tom, who had decided to take another semester off to stay home and eat, tipped the scales at 350. "If this keeps up we're going to need someone to take care of things around the house" Jeff mused...it's getting harder and harder to maneuver this gut around, and Tom...Tom hasn't slowed down a bit. He's going to end up huge at the rate he's going... The thought of him and Jeff, lying side by side in bed, held down by the weight of their own bellies, yet still gaining more...Jeff's dick got rock hard. A knock on the door snapped him back to reality.

"Come in" Jeff called. The door opened, to admit a guy from Jeff's advanced calculus class. John was tall and blond, with short hair and wire-rimmed glasses; he had a slender build, but his waist showed signs of a love of beer, in the form of a firm, round, pot belly that stuck out over the top of his tight jeans. "I'll be right with you," Jeff said.

As John waited his eyes wandered around the small office, coming to rest on a picture hanging on the wall. It was of a football player, dressed in an old university uniform. John looked more closely and realized it was Professor Knapp, although a younger, much slimmer version. "That was me 20 years ago" a voice behind John spoke up. Knapp had stood up and was looking over John's shoulder. John turned to face him. "Kind of hard to believe, isn't it?" Knapp said with a chuckle, running a hand over his huge belly. "Had 2 great seasons, then hurt my knee. Spent the next 2 years on the bench getting fat, and the next 20 years getting even fatter." He ran an appraising eye over John, his gaze coming to rest on John's beer gut. "Looks like you're in the same boat," he said, poking a finger into the bulge at John's middle. "Play any sports in high school?" he asked.

John nodded, blushing furiously, "yeah, baseball". Who was this porker to be calling him fat?

"Got to college, gained some weight?" Knapp continued. John nodded again. "Happens to a lot of guys, I see it all the time. I remember a guy a few years back..."