as the url suggests...

Within six months of admitting that Shane was into Ilya getting fatter, Ilya put on the remaining 25 pounds to get him to their soft limit of 300. The whole time Shane was worried that the second Ilya stepped on the scale and saw how fat Shane had made him, he’d want out, he’d be done with it. But that was not what happened.

Ilya peered over his belly, empty like it only was when he first woke up, saw his weight, stepped off, and said “my next soft limit is 400, I want to break the scale.”

Shane had then immediately shoved him to the bed and rode him, grabbing at handfuls of fat that he had put there.

Shane was having a hard time keeping 400 pound Ilya out of his mind now, though. It had been a few weeks, and a few pounds, since the renegotiation and all Shane could think about was where the next hundred pounds would settle on Ilya’s body.

He was mostly belly right now, a product of several stuffings a week. But Shane knew that as he gained more and more his weight would redistribute. His rolls that Shane was already obsessed with would get thicker and deeper, his belly would sag lower and lower until it started to cover his thighs even when he was standing up. Ilya was developing a gorgeous little roll on the top of his thigh that Shane was absolutely obsessed with. Ilya held him down there for what seemed like hours while Shane licked and nibbled at the roll. Ilya had said he was so good at eating him out that Shane had almost cum in his boxers. Fuck, Ilya would probably start to waddle soon with the way his thighs were plumping up.

Meal times were getting harder and harder for Shane to get through. It was his own fault really, he didn’t need to fill Ilya’s plate that full and then fill him another plate equally as full. But the way Ilya’s eyes got glassy and hooded when he finally set his fork down was addicting to Shane. He needed it. And he knew that every plate was getting Ilya closer and closer to Shane’s perverted little fantasy. There had been a few times that Shane had gotten so turned on just thinking about Ilya in a hundred pounds that he’d had to excuse himself from the table to go calm down.

He would feel conflicted about how hot he found all of this if Ilya didn’t somehow find it hotter. Ilya had gotten more vocal about his own feelings towards his weight and especially towards Shane feeding him.

Every plate Shane put down in front of him was met with “you feed me so well solnyshko, making me nice and fat just for you.” Or a similar comment that left Shane a bit dazed. They had also introduced teasing now that Ilya was very comfortable with their dynamic. All of the new additions were leading to them having the best sex of their entire relationship.

You're no longer a good fatty. Your hourglass figure is gone, your belly dominates your frame, your belly bounces and pushes and oozes out of all your clothes, and you're constantly turned on, which makes you hungry. Soon you're guzzling three-thousand calories after dinner every night. You're losing mobility. Clothes you've worn for years are straining over your arms, your thighs, your ass. An old friend catches you alone, asks if you're okay, and when you say, Of course, yeah, what do you mean?, they won't even say it aloud, just look you up and down and grimace.

When you get home, you're ravenously horny. You beg for your wife to feed you and she gleefully obliges, and you drink eight-thousand calories in a single sitting, blowing past your personal best of five-thousand. It's a tipping point for you. The last shreds of restraint are gone and you start to really blow up, your entire life and being flattening into a never-satisfied hunger.

Your stretchmarks cover huge areas of your body now, shining red lightning belting your belly, striping your fupa (you take her word for it, you can't see them), covering your arms, your tits, even one tucked away inside your chins, a secret little brand of gluttony. Your wife writes your resignation e-mail for your work-from-home job for you while you eat a cake on all fours. You're her pig now, Mommy's sweet little pudding, constantly naked, stuffed, and stoned. She doesn't let you know your weight.

You see your friends post a picture from the summit of a hike you do every year with them, and realize that they didn't even ask you, but it doesn't upset you. You haven't been outside the house in weeks because nothing fits you. Your belly flows to your knees. Your world's shrunk as your body grows. You don't remember the last time your day consisted of anything but eating.

One day, she makes you stand before breakfast. It's an ordeal, and she's strong, but she truly has to strain to lift you up. Your atrophied muscles are little help. Slowly, you waddle to the scale, chins bouncing, belly bouncing against your thighs as you walk, pouting and whining that she put it all the way on the other end of the room. You step on, eager to be laying back down and watching TV, and she gives a soft gasp, kisses you, grabs big soft handfuls of you.

"Want to know what it is?" she says, purring. You say sure. You've been curious for a while now.

She smiles as she speaks. "Four hundred and thirty-three pounds," she says. You're stunned. You try to push your tits and belly out of the way to look yourself, but there's too much. Your legs are already aching. Has she been keeping you that sedentary? You barely noticed.

She leads you back to the bed, praising you being her perfect pig, and once you're settled back in with your morning pre-breakfast shake you ask her: weren't you going to tell me when I hit 400, so I could go to the doctor, get checked up?

She just smiles, and your heart melts. You love her so much. "I think 500 would look better on you," she says. "Don't you want to be a good piggy?"

“Oh?” Ilya puts his phone down on the couch next to him.

“Yeah. I want you to know how good it feels, and I want to be the one who does it. Being fed is — it’s so good, Ilya. Please let me feed you.”

Fuck. Shane is so gorgeous when he knows what he wants. It’s clear by looking at Shane that Ilya has never denied him anything he wants, why start now?

Ilya nods and spreads his thighs.

“How do you want me?”

Shane’s face lights up, a grin pushing his chubby cheeks into his eyes.

“Just like that, but in your boxers.”

“You too then, I want to see what I did to you while you fatten me up just as good.”

They both strip out of their clothes, Ilya’s still somewhat toned muscles compared to Shane’s flab on full display. Both of them already tenting their boxers.

“Ok, sit down. I — I want to serve you tonight.” Shane finally comes over to where Ilya is sitting to grab his discarded clothes and to kiss him deeply. “I’ll be right back.”

Ilya watches Shane in the kitchen as he opens and closes cabinets and the fridge, preparing what he’s going to fed to Ilya. His belly rests on the counter now when he reaches up on his tip-toes to the top shelf to grab a serving platter. When he drops back down to flat feet his belly catches and rebounds with a jiggle that reverberates all the way up to his perky little tits. Not perky for long if Ilya has anything to say about it.

Shane returns with a full tray, a large serving platter full of food, four cans of coke, and a pink box dangling by its ribbon on Shane’s left hand. It seems to be a hodgepodge, various take-outs from Ilya’s favorite restaurants, Shane has been planning this. He sets the tray down on the coffee table within reach and sits next to Ilya on the couch.

“Can I feed you or do you want to do it?” Shane asks quietly.

“Oh Shanya, you have put so much work into this. You will feed me.”

Shane’s blush is so fucking sweet, with his shirt off Ilya can see that it goes all the way down to the top of his round tummy, his full torso flushed a pretty pink. Ilya wants to turn the tables so bad and see how stretched out he can make that blush, but Shane wants this so bad, so Ilya will give it to him.

Shane feeds him so well, Ilya can tell Shane’s dropping just a bit, his eyes heavy and dark. Ilya will moan around a bite just to see Shane shudder.

“You’re doing so well feeding me, filling me up so well.” Ilya makes a show of rubbing the small jut of his stomach.

“Do you like it?” Shane asks, placing his own large hand over Ilya’s. “Do you feel good?”

“You make me feel so good, malysh.”

After Ilya cleans the serving platter Shane opens the pink box. Inside is a chocolate cake covered in thick, glossy frosting.

“You don’t have to eat it all, tell me when you’re done.” Shane says, turning to grab the fork from the coffee table.

Ilya leans forward as much as his full belly will allow to grab Shane by the wrist.

“I don’t have to eat it all because you will help me, come.” He pats his lap for Shane to come sit with him.

Shane hesitantly climbs over Ilya’s thighs, hovering over his lap and not putting his full weight down. That simply won’t do, Ilya wants to feel Shane on him.

“Sit, all the way.”

Shane obeys, relaxing his thighs and thumping down into Ilya’s lap. Jesus Shane got heavy, he rides Ilya regularly, but not nearly as often now that he’s so big, every time he sits in Ilya’s lap he’s a little bit heavier. With Shane in Ilya’s lap facing him their bellies are touching; soft, supple fat pressed against firm bloat. Ilya grabs onto Shane’s plush sides and pulls him closer.

“Will you eat so much for me you cannot sit in my lap anymore?” Ilya asks, taking a handful of Shane’s empty tummy and shaking it.

“You’re supposed to be eating it all, this is for you.” Shane whines, burying his face in Ilya’s neck. His hips buck up against Ilya’s though, unable to stop himself in his hazy mindset.

“Yes, this is for me, and this-“ Ilya rubs Shane’s stomach again, “is also for me. And I want to see it full, you’re so hungry, malysh, so good to fill me up and feed me. Is your turn now, we will share.”

Ilya does away with the fork, instead breaking off bites of cake to gently press between Shane’s lips. He was already floating from the submission of serving Ilya, but being hand fed always put Shane in such an agreeable state of mind. Ilya could do anything to Shane right now, it’s how he got Shane to eat past his limits enough to get as fat as he is now.

For every couple of bites Ilya feeds Shane, Shane will feed Ilya one. Sweet chocolate frosting coating his tongue, the cake sits heavy in his stomach on top of everything else that Shane has so lovingly fed him tonight. He can see why Shane likes this, being stuffed lights up nerves all over his body. His stomach is so sensitive where it’s stretched tight and rubbing up against Shane.

Two thirds of the way through the cake Shane gives up on feeding Ilya. His arms had gone slack and lazy as his belly firmed up against Ilya’s. He was leaning forward now, putting all of his weight on Ilya. It was so easy to pass handful after handful of cake through his waiting mouth.

Ilya swiped up the last of the frosting from the bottom of the box and pressed his finger up to Shane’s panting mouth. He had eaten well over half the cake all on his own, that didn’t stop Shane from pulling Ilya’s finger into his mouth and sucking it clean.

With his fingers sufficiently cleaned, Ilya reached between them to pull their hard cocks out, with some careful maneuvering of Shane’s belly Ilya was able to get them between their stuffed stomachs. It would only take a few thrusts, they were both so on edge.

“Do you think you can move? You are too heavy for me to do the lifting, hump my belly until you finish, be good for me just a bit longer.”

Shane hummed against Ilya’s neck and starting moving his hips, the soft swell of his belly perfectly covering their cocks.

Ilya had estimated correctly, after a minute or so of Shane thrusting, both of them were finishing against their stomachs.

Shane rolled off of Ilya, his belly smacking against his upper thighs as it settled.

“So perfect, Shane. You did such a good job feeding me. I see why you like it, I see why you have gotten so fat for me.” Ilya reaches over to rub at Shane’s belly where it’s not covered in cum.

“This was supposed to be for you, how do I always end up full?” Shane whines.

“Because you need it, and because you’re so good for me and do whatever I tell you.”

They spend a while on the couch, Ilya just a bit too full to want to move and Shane too blissed out and lazy to even attempt it. Ilya cleans them both up with a napkin before he pulls Shane closer to him so they can tangle their arms together and rub each other’s bellies.