Goalie Gains (NSFW)

Current Weight: 250 lbs

Colt let out a long, deep belch as he slammed the empty glass on the table. It had been a little over a month since he started working on what he called his "goalie bod," and the shakes had become a regular part of every meal, including snacks. He estimated that he packed away at least 6,000 calories each day, maybe more. The button on his pants popped with the next belch and he grinned. One more for the jar. Rubbing his swollen gut, he rose to his feet and poured the last bit of liquid down his throat right from the blender.

"Ah, shit." He had been chugging so quickly, he hadn't realized the shake had been dripping down on his shirt. Not that it mattered, none of his clothes officially fit anymore with that last button giving way, and he was a little pissed that his coach hadn't offered to assist with those expenses. "Tch, whatever, fuck him." He waddled over to the fridge, his belly finding it first, retrieved a can of beer, snapped it open, and chugged. A yawn escaped him as the shark tossed the can aside and made his way to his bed, the frame creaking under his increased weight. Pulling out his phone, Colt lazily scrolled through the pictures of fat men he'd been saving from his favorite shake recipe blog – one of his new fascinations with this lifestyle – until he passed out from the night's binge.

An alarm went off in the morning reminding Colt that he needed to weigh in. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, stripping down before stepping on. A frown crossed his face as he checked the numbers, only to be greeted by a gray, hairy, swollen mass of belly.

"Right, right, the bluetooth." He stepped off and opened a fitness app on his phone, then stepped back on the scale, watching the numbers rise on the device. "210, 235, 250, 258...well, 258.5 it is then. Woof, is 40 pounds in a month even natural?" He shook his head, hopped off the scale and into the shower. The soap bottle sputtered its last bits of gel as he squeezed it into his hands. "Getting fat means more soap too. Yet another expense." He sighed and let the water run over his body.

Colt's phone buzzed as he stepped out of the shower. He glanced at it as he dried off; it was a message from his coach. Apparently,he "suddenly remembered" Colt might need a larger uniform and was checking in to find out what size. Colt rolled his eyes, those things were always oversized, he couldn't imagine a few extra pounds would matter. Heading to his bedroom, he pulled his uniform out of the closet and admired the blue,gold, and white coloration. As he slipped it over his head, the first thing he noticed was how tight the sleeves were around his biceps. He grinned, at least the extra bulk wasn't pure fat, he was lifting more these days than he was ever able to before. The shirt continued its descent, stopping just above his belly button. Colt frowned and tugged at the fabric, but it sprang right back up,leaving a good view of his rounded belly. Annoyed, he threw the pants on, and was surprised to find his ass had gotten too wide for them as well. He ripped the clothes off his body and tossed them on his bed, then angrily headed to his favorite chair, planning to watch some TV and calm his mood. As he plopped himself down, the chair crunched and tilted forward, dumping him on the floor. Colt's face turned a deep red and he was immediately thankful the roommates were out for the night. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table and opened up the message from his coach again. He typed with shaky fingers: [Make it two sizes up.]