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“Tucker, I told you for the last time that I’d better not find you sitting here on your fat ass getting high in the same spot as when I left for work this morning.”

“What can I say, pops, it’s a tough lifestyle”

“Jesus- I’m really doing you a favor by letting you stay here. You’re 25 years old for Christ’s sake and nothin’ to show for yourself from the last three years except an extra hundred pounds of fat!”

His father walked across the bedroom, coughing from the smoke and stench as he kicked empty soda and beer cans out of the way. He eventually opened a window, eager to get a crossbreeze going through the room. He wheeled around once he caught his breath, freshly infuriated with his son as he appraised his flabby body in the dim light.

“You used to be an athlete! I mean goddamnit - you were a beanpole till we sent you up to that school. 45 grand a year for you to major in meteorology and party.” It was nothing Tucker hadn’t heard before - the standard script his father used while rattling off all the ways he’d disappointed the family. “Only good thing about that place was Coach Ross- least he put some heat on you boys and tried to teach discipline. God, just what would he think of you now - I can’t stand to think how disappointed he’d be.”

“Pfft - are you kidding? He’d love seeing me this fat.”

“What did you just say?”

Tucker rolled his eyes as he slouched lower in the chair, hand resting atop his prodigious gut. “Everybody knew it - Coach Ross always loved the fat guys. That’s what he wanted all of us to be - just big, dumb, blubbery fat guys. That’s why he always sat with the linemen in the dining hall and just watched them stuff themselves then pushed them to have another plate.”

“How dare you disrespect that man. He was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you badmouth him to me? I shook his hand the first day I dropped you off on campus and he told me he’d take care of you. He was the first one to call me when you broke your leg in that damn game and were out for the rest of the season.”

“Yeah, Dad, and he also sent me a ‘get well soon’ cake every day for two weeks after that. Even asked me to text him a photo each night proving I’d finished it. That’s how this started!” Dalton grabbed a thick roll of flab in his lower belly and shook it emphatically. In his high stupor he was feeling particularly honest.

His father was at a loss for words as he processed this shocking testimony. To think that lean coach would have used his son - all those young guys on the team! - like this was revolting.

Dalton continued: “It was too much for me back then, too weird. He knew I wouldn’t be able to work off all those calories while my leg was broken. All I could do was sit around all day and eat. The last text he sent me was all about the beer gut I was growing and how that was just the beginning. It freaked me out - I blocked his number and quit the team.”

Dalton sighed heavily as his hand started rubbing the broad expanse of his belly in wide arcs. “I didn’t get it back then, but I think I understand now. I get the appeal of being a big fat guy. Just eating and eating and eating. I think some of the other guys have too - most of ‘em don’t post on social media anymore, but Chris’ girlfriend just tagged him in a picture and he got fuckin’ huge.”

“Dalton, that’s enough! I mean it! I don’t want to hear anymore of this crap.”

“You never did, Dad, but I get it now. This is what we’re supposed to be.”

Description

“Tucker, I told you for the last time that I’d better not find you sitting here on your fat ass getting high in the same spot as when I left for work this morning.”

“What can I say, pops, it’s a tough lifestyle”

“Jesus- I’m really doing you a favor by letting you stay here. You’re 25 years old for Christ’s sake and nothin’ to show for yourself from the last three years except an extra hundred pounds of fat!”

His father walked across the bedroom, coughing from the smoke and stench as he kicked empty soda and beer cans out of the way. He eventually opened a window, eager to get a crossbreeze going through the room. He wheeled around once he caught his breath, freshly infuriated with his son as he appraised his flabby body in the dim light.

“You used to be an athlete! I mean goddamnit - you were a beanpole till we sent you up to that school. 45 grand a year for you to major in meteorology and party.” It was nothing Tucker hadn’t heard before - the standard script his father used while rattling off all the ways he’d disappointed the family. “Only good thing about that place was Coach Ross- least he put some heat on you boys and tried to teach discipline. God, just what would he think of you now - I can’t stand to think how disappointed he’d be.”

“Pfft - are you kidding? He’d love seeing me this fat.”

“What did you just say?”

Tucker rolled his eyes as he slouched lower in the chair, hand resting atop his prodigious gut. “Everybody knew it - Coach Ross always loved the fat guys. That’s what he wanted all of us to be - just big, dumb, blubbery fat guys. That’s why he always sat with the linemen in the dining hall and just watched them stuff themselves then pushed them to have another plate.”

“How dare you disrespect that man. He was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you badmouth him to me? I shook his hand the first day I dropped you off on campus and he told me he’d take care of you. He was the first one to call me when you broke your leg in that damn game and were out for the rest of the season.”

“Yeah, Dad, and he also sent me a ‘get well soon’ cake every day for two weeks after that. Even asked me to text him a photo each night proving I’d finished it. That’s how this started!” Dalton grabbed a thick roll of flab in his lower belly and shook it emphatically. In his high stupor he was feeling particularly honest.

His father was at a loss for words as he processed this shocking testimony. To think that lean coach would have used his son - all those young guys on the team! - like this was revolting.

Dalton continued: “It was too much for me back then, too weird. He knew I wouldn’t be able to work off all those calories while my leg was broken. All I could do was sit around all day and eat. The last text he sent me was all about the beer gut I was growing and how that was just the beginning. It freaked me out - I blocked his number and quit the team.”

Dalton sighed heavily as his hand started rubbing the broad expanse of his belly in wide arcs. “I didn’t get it back then, but I think I understand now. I get the appeal of being a big fat guy. Just eating and eating and eating. I think some of the other guys have too - most of ‘em don’t post on social media anymore, but Chris’ girlfriend just tagged him in a picture and he got fuckin’ huge.”

“Dalton, that’s enough! I mean it! I don’t want to hear anymore of this crap.”

“You never did, Dad, but I get it now. This is what we’re supposed to be.”