The Transfer - Part 1

I honestly never thought it would happen to me.

Sure, I was big all throughout high school, but I was just a big guy, y’know? Broad shoulders, chest, I carried it well. Even did a stint in football for a while, but my nerdier tendencies just got the better of me there. Still, I was big, maybe even soft, but I wasn’t fuckin’ fat. Never fat.

But now that I’m in college, I have to admit things kinda went off the rails. That first year I put on a hundred pounds thanks to a cafeteria that had endless buffets. My friends and I even made it a competitive sport at dinner time to see who could eat the most. I always won.

Second year was more of the same. I hadn’t exercised since I was 15. I huffed and puffed whenever I had to walk more than 50 feet. I planned my day to avoid staircases as much as possible. Running was out of the question--it was more like a casual waddle.

When I realized I was actually starting to have trouble reaching my dick to jerk off, I felt like it might’ve been time to invest in a gym membership.

And now here I am, sweating like a soda can on a hot summer’s afternoon that had been dunked in the Pacific ocean and then given some sort of sci-fi technology to make it look like more water was coming out of the can than it could possibly contain. My t-shirt was so wet you could see my tits through the material along with my cavernous belly button.

The worst part was it was the lightest setting this treadmill had. It wasn’t even a walking pace--more like a slow plod. It was embarrassing how much I was struggling to carry my fat and wobbling ass with even a minor requirement for physical activity. Every muscle I had was already burning, along with the area between my thighs where the skin was rubbed raw from walking.

I looked at the timer on the treadmill. I’d been walking for less than 2 minutes. I wanted to die.

“Hey, fatty!”

I turned my head to the left and say a muscular dude in a tank top looking at me with a sneer. I didn’t need this.

“You want a water bottle? It looks like you’re losing a lot of hydration!”

He laughed. I wanted to punch him, but I could barely maintain the effort to turn my head to look at him. I hated how I could feel the fat of my neck bunch up so it was touching my earlobe. They don’t tell you about weird shit like that before you become a human whale.

“Hey, fatso! I’m talkin’ to you!”

Man, fuck this guy. I don’t have to deal with this.

I turned off the treadmill and nearly fell on my face. If that asshole hadn’t come forward to catch me I would’ve definitely toppled over. I almost thought he might’ve grown a heart, but then he squeezed my left tit and whispered in my ear how I had bigger breasts than his girlfriend.

Fuck this guy.

I left. I didn’t cry, but I wanted to. I’m not ashamed to admit it.

That night, I vowed to find a better way of getting in shape and to get back at that asshole. And after a few months at the library, I found it.