Gainer Stories

a member of the Gainer House family of sites

The author of this biography requested that we mention that this is not intended as a "how to" guide for people to emulate. It is a true story, but it involves a car crash and prescription drugs, so don't try this at home.

My First Thirty Pounds

Everyone talks about how "easy" it is to gain weight in college. I personally found it to be incredibly difficult. Back when I started college in 2004, I found that walking all over the place to class, for work, for play rehearsal, and to visit friends really helped keep the weight off. Of course, my freshman year I was just really coming to grips with the whole "I like fat dudes" mentality. In fact, it wasn't until around January 2005 that I stumbled upon Gainerweb and all of those illustrious stories written by various authors and illustrated by the famous Warren Davis.

In my Sophomore year, I actually signed onto Beefyfrat for the first time, created an account, and tried my feeble hand at gaining. I would stuff myself full of pop tarts, soda, and sometimes instant mac and cheese and would revel in the tiny bloated belly I had developed. But within a few days of not gorging, I was back to my normal 155 pound, 6'2'' frame. The uphill battle never seemed to end! I would gain two, three pounds, and then within a few days time, be back to my normal weight. My supremely fast mutant metabolism took no calorie prisoners.

Finally, by the end of my Junior year of college, I had all but given up in my pursuits of being a big fat man. I traded my gaining obsession with a new love interest and focusing on my thriving retail job where I had truly found my niche in life. I was in love and happy and doing fairly well financially.

It's funny how you're so blinded by joy that you never see that old man barreling down the road at you.

In May of 2007 my car was totaled, and while I had managed to survive the whole thing with nothing more than bumps and bruises (and a few minor cuts), I felt fairly secure that I was okay. Then after I was done being checked out by the EMT, I bent over to pick up my car keys, which I had somehow removed from my bent steering column, and blacked out. Unfortunately, the ambulance had left and the cops were asking if I wanted them to call me back. I refused and instead had a friend drive me to a doctor's office, where it was discovered that I had some lower lumbar problems that could be fixed with some physical therapy, muscle relaxers, and oral steroids. The old man gave me a few shots in the muscles of my back and sent me on my way.

Needless to say the pain had become so severe that if I didn't take my prescriptions I could not function. The adverse side effects were that while the steroids removed the swelling (with some help from some super powered ibuprofen) and made my appetite that of a pregnant woman, the muscle relaxers removed any desire I had to move at all. So there I was, on strict orders to not lift anything, be as inactive as possible (unless working or doing my therapy), and to "take it easy." My boyfriend was supportive and felt bad for his bumped and bruised boy toy (also he was bummed that sex was cut down drastically as well), and he compensated by bringing me snacks and cooking the meals.

By Fourth of July, I was finding that my pants were tightening around the waistband and in the thighs. Not really caring about gaining (not really caring about much really thanks to the muscle relaxers), I brushed it off and moved up to size 30 waistband. They fit fine. Sure my once flat stomach had started to bow out some. Sure my nipples had started to get a little puffy. Yes, my ass bounced a bit more and my thighs were getting doughy... it was to be expected, right?

August rolled around and the insurance company FINALLY wrote me a check for my doctor's visit and compensated me for my car (the local police didn't file a report...lucky me, and the man who hit me was visiting his grandchildren in Florida so I had no one to confirm my story). I was happy to be able to get a new car soon and pay off those pesky doctor bills. I also had a bit left over. So I decided to check the damage on my clothes...see what fit, what didn't.

When I discovered that by the middle of August, I was fitting into my boyfriend's 32s I decided to check the scale. I hopped on, thinking maybe I was pushing past 175 or 180, up from my 155-160ish that previous April. Had I not been by a wall, I probably would have fainted when I saw the needle on the old scale soar by 180 and land firmly on 191 pounds. I had put on over thirty pounds. I was blown away. I didn't tell my boyfriend at the time, since he didn't know about my secret obsession of gaining. After stepping off the scale, I stripped down to my birthday suit and really examined my body.

The once flat stomach was rounded out with a firm yet smooth supple belly. The beginnings of love handles had appeared where the indentation of my elastic underwear waistband resided only moments ago. My thighs had just started to rub together. My chest...oh man, I had started to get a set of nice soft, perky moobs, barely even a palm full. My arms had a definite thickness to them, and when I turned to the side I noticed my ass had started to jiggle and bounce if I rocked forward and backward on my feet. I was becoming a genuine dough boy, and as I tried to recollect when this happened, I had just remembered a blurred parade of snacks, TV shows, and trips from the bathroom to the bedroom to the office and back to the living room with passing moments to the kitchen. I hadn't really reveled in the fatness. I didn't stuff myself to incoherence. I had just splurged and sat still. To this day, I wish I could recapture that spark, that desire, that moment of "I've finally done it" feeling. But I haven't yet...Hmm...maybe when I break 400 I will.