Kinktober Day 12: Eating Contest/Weight Gain Bet

do I know anything about Greek Life? absolutely not, my apologies to any of you who actually pledged. 

but did I somehow find an excuse to use the term "mommy milkers" in this story? you bet your ass I did.

***

“C’mon, Ev, you can get one more down,” Jason encouraged.

Evan only groaned in response.

“They’re gonna beat us if you don’t get it together. Eat.”

Evan opened his mouth, looking green around the gills. Jason shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth. He wanted to gag but managed to chew and swallow it down. It felt like wet concrete going down, heavy and tasteless. Slowly, he managed to finish the rest of the pie. It was his second of the day, and only one small part of everything he’d gorged himself on that day. He had felt like he was going to pop around noon that day, and it was 8pm and he hadn’t stopped eating during all that time.

But that pie put him just past the amount of calories he needed for the day. Jason (and a few of the other guys who had come into the dining room to watch) cheered. “Chi Eta’s got this in the bag!” Jason hooted.

Evan belched and shifted. “More like Pi Eta,” he said with a groan. That got a laugh out of everyone.

***

Just up Greek Row, Evan’s competition was eating like her social life depended on it—and it kind of did. The Alpha Nu Mu sorority had lost this competition last year, and all their hopes were riding on Stella to bring home a win.

The Chi Eta boys already had the numbers in their favor because, years ago, everyone had agreed it was easier for girls to put on weight. It was just science. They weren’t wrong, but that didn’t mean the Alpha Nu Mu girls appreciated that their contestant had to put on at least five pounds more than her male counterpart in order to win. They’d lost the battle by a single pound the year before, and were not about to let that happen again.

The Annual Hog Fattening Championship had started out as a friendly rivalry between Alpha Nu Mu and Chi Eta after some gentle ribbing at a party about college weight gain. In the decades since that party, it had become a near-sacred ritual for the brothers and sisters, and an integral part of Greek life at State, the subject of intense rivalry. While Chi Eta and Alpha Nu Mu often organized joint parties and events and were more friendly than not, Hog Fattening season was an entirely different story.

Each year, the organizations each nominated one representative, a respective brother or sister who would fight to become the year’s Prize Hog. While it was rare for anyone to volunteer for the position, no one ever backed down once they were chosen. To win that year’s prize, a contestant had to pack on more pounds than their opponent. Winners were celebrated for years to come, earning a place in Greek Row history and in the hearts of their fellow members.

To be a Prize Hog was both an honor and a sacrifice. It was less of an issue for the Chi Eta boys, who found it a little easier to shed any excess poundage they put on. Alpha Nu Mu girls who competed struggled to get back to their pre-Hog Fattening weights. Entering the competition meant sacrificing grades and athletic careers for the duration, and dealing with the social ramifications afterward.

Stella had drawn the short straw among the Alpha Nu Mu girls. The little redhead had been less than enthused about being selected, but she would do anything for her sisters and her sorority’s reputation. Her sisters had wasted no time, putting all the skill they would normally reserve for charity bake sales into keeping Stella packed full.

***

Both Stella and Evan were publicly weighed at the beginning of the month, in front of what felt like god and everybody. Evan wore a goofy pair of white boxers with hearts on them, getting laughs out of everyone at the weigh-in party as he pranced and posed. Stella, clad in a lacy but not particularly revealing boyshort and bra set, took stock of her opponent.

Evan had the body of a pretty average college sophomore, a hint of pudge pooching out around his belly. He was average height, around 5’8”, but compared to her he might as well have been a giant. She was only 4’9”, which was one of the only advantages she had in the competition: it was a lot easier to put on weight when you burned a whole lot less calories just maintaining being alive.

As they both stepped on the scale, Evan looked her over. She was so tiny he felt sure he would win. There was no way she could eat enough to surpass him—not with that flat little stomach. That wouldn’t stop him from doing everything he could to win, but it did give him some comfort that maybe he wouldn’t need to get completely huge just to beat her.

Each of their starting weights was read out. Stella was 122 pounds, and Evan was 147. As soon as they stepped off their scales, it began.

For an entire month, Stella and Evan were each waited on hand and foot, and so long as they were awake, they were eating. Everything else was secondary to winning the competition.

The girls opted for lots of homemade carbs and fats, avoiding the protein that would make their Hog feel full. They also whipped up their secret weapon: the Mu-garita, a ludicrously sweet mixture made from tubes of syrupy frozen juices and tequila, and (now that cannabis was legal and it was easier to get), plenty of pure THC. The Mu-garita served a variety of purposes: increasing Stella’s appetite, decreasing her ability to feel how full she was, and pouring additional calories down her throat, even when she was certain she couldn’t eat anymore.

The results were dramatic. Between the munchies and the constant buzz, Stella was an eating machine. Her flat stomach ballooned past her breasts, constantly jutting outward in a dense, loudly digesting ball. Her daily weigh-ins confirmed she was putting on at least two pounds a day, which put them well ahead of where they’d been the year before. As her stomach stretched and her capacity increased, that number got closer to three pounds a day.

The Chi Eta boys opted for a less stringent strategy, more focused on getting Evan to eat in general rather than worrying about exactly what it was. He guzzled down pizza and beer, and went on drunken excursions to the 24-hour grocery store near campus to fill up carts with his favorite packaged goodies. The frat also assigned Jason, one of the newest members, to be at Evan’s beck and call for the month. At first, Jason mostly grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and got the door when a takeout order arrived. As the month wore on, Evan’s weight was increasing, but not nearly fast enough. Both teams were monitoring social media, looking for glimpses of the other team’s Hog. Every snatch of video and blurry photo they saw of Stella sent them into panic mode.

“Dude, it’s not that much weight, she’s just short,” Evan said as he casually ate some wings.

“Fuckin’ look at her, Evan! She’s a blimp!”

Evan took Jason’s phone. Alpha Nu Mu was confident enough in their lead that they had posted a photo that showed how big Stella was getting. Stella was sprawled out in a chair, and there were a half-dozen girls around her with their hands on her impossibly round stomach. The caption read  “go big or go home 😘”

Okay, so maybe she had put on some weight. Maybe enough for him to be worried about it.

Jason, not wanting to be blamed for their loss, amped up his efforts. He worked with some of the other guys to create weight gain meal plans for their Prize Hog. He had to hit a specific calorie count each day, no matter what. If he wouldn’t eat it himself, Jason would make sure he did.

Evan’s waistline ballooned. He’d already put on eight pounds or so in the first couple weeks, which for any person not actively being fattened up by a whole fraternity would’ve been ludicrous. During week three, he gained twelve pounds. Week four saw him packing on up to three pounds a day, adding a jaw-dropping twenty-one pounds to his frame.

Meanwhile, Alpha Mu’s own Hog was looking like more of a cow with each passing day. She’d had more proportional breasts before the competition, but at some point, she’d definitely crossed over from having mere breasts to massive, shirt-straining mommy milkers. Her gut wasn’t far behind, though it was hard to tell how much of that was fat and how much of that was just her being achingly full of food. She had asked her sisters not to share any weight updates at a certain point. “I wanna be surprised when I step on that scale,” she told them. The sisters were still free to keep track, logging numbers and keeping notes that they could reference for the next competition. If the strategy worked once, after all, it could definitely work again.

***

Both Hogs continued eating right up until midnight the day before the final weigh-in. To some degree, they were both glad it was over. But weigh-in day was agonizing. For the first time in weeks, they had to go completely without food to ensure a fair weigh-in. Stella found herself craving Mu-garitas and knew she’d have to kick that habit if she ever wanted to lose the weight. Evan’s stomach grumbled loudly when he woke up and didn’t stop all day.

Everyone gathered in the banquet hall they’d rented out for the occasion. Evan walked out first. He was wearing the same white boxers he had a month before. They clung to him pretty tightly, his belly hanging over the waistband. He looked confident. The meal plan was a definite winner, he was sure. There was no way the sorority girls could beat a forty-one pound gain. Even if they did, he knew that five-pound buffer was in his favor. If she’d gained any less than forty-six pounds, he was the winner.

When Stella walked out, everyone gasped, the Alpha Nu Mu girls included. She had been transformed into an absolute butterball. She was wearing lingerie that was similar to what she’d worn at the first weigh-in, and it was clear she never would’ve been able to squeeze into the old bra and panties she’d worn just a month ago. Even without the weigh-in, it was obvious her gains were significant. Her belly, even empty, curved forward and hung down far enough that only the smallest triangle of her underwear was visible. Her fat thighs rubbed together, and her hips had blossomed into dramatic curves. Everyone who saw her from the back was treated to a view of a wide ass with ample jiggle. But it was her tits that truly stole the show. Even wrangled into a bra, they looked massive, each bigger than her head. Her cleavage was so deep she could’ve made one of those viral videos about just how much contraband it was possible to hide within a truly mammoth pair of breasts.

Whether she won or lost, Stella would go down in history as one of the girls who came out of the Annual Hog Fattening Challenge looking ten times hotter than she had before.

When they stepped on the scales, Evan’s weight was read out first. “Final weight: 188 pounds! That’s a forty-one pound gain for everyone in the audience.” All of Chi Eta cheered, pounding their feet on the floor and their fists on any nearby tables.

Once things quieted down, Stella’s weight was read. “Holy shit—is this right?” the announcer murmured. “Can you—just step off for a second.” The announcer stepped on the scale, brow knitting in confusion. “Evan, would you mind—?” The announcer had Evan stand on Stella’s scale to ensure it was giving a proper reading. It was. “Whew. Alright, Stella, go ahead and step back on.” The announcer cleared their throat. “Final weight: 205!” The crowd of Alpha Nu Mu girls went absolutely buckwild, screaming at the top of their lungs. Stella had put on eighty-three pounds in four weeks, breaking the previous record by almost fifteen pounds. She had also broken 200 pounds, which had never happened to anyone with such a low starting weight.

Stella was that year’s Prize Hog by a mile. She covered her face, almost wanting to cry. The rush of winning after so much hard work made it all feel worth it. Every outgrown pair of pants, the stretch marks, all the new special-ordered bras she’d have to buy—it was worth it for the win.

The party in the banquet hall that night was a blowout to remember. Everyone ate and drank well, toasting Stella’s achievement, and Evan’s attempt. In any normal year, he might’ve done it, but he had been outmatched.

When the party hit its fever-pitch, Evan headed outside for some air, only to find Stella outside smoking a joint. Both of them were dressed again, neither of their clothes fitting particularly well. Evan still hadn’t figured out what sizes he needed for his new chubby bod, and Stella had been growing so quickly she hadn’t had time to update her wardrobe. She wore a tank top that exposed her mounds of cleavage and clung to her soft middle, and soft cotton shorts that barely covered her ass.

“Mind if I—?” Evan asked, gesturing towards the joint.

“Knock yourself out,” she said as she blew out a cloud of smoke. Her tolerance had increased so much that smoking flower didn’t do a whole lot to get her high.

They passed it back and forth, in silence at first. At one point, Evan broke the ice by poking her soft Mu-garita gut. “Can’t believe you beat me. Never thought I’d lose to someone under five feet.”

She laughed. “Us girls have our secrets.”

As they stood in the chill air, Evan felt the munchies creeping up on him. “Hey, uh, do you wanna get out of here? Go get something to eat?”

He didn’t have to ask twice.