“Come on mom, it’s not that bad. Dad says I’m just a growing boy, and you know how much he loves me. If the nightly fast food runs were a problem, he would tell me so. And so what if this is all that fits me? Clothes at home are overrated! We’re all family here, and dad already loafs around in his underwear. The clothes are eventually gonna come off, whether I like it or not. Might as well just ditch them all together!”
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Some evil feeder making me gain weight just to make me feel embarrassed.
Forcing me to pack on the pounds and refusing to let me buy new clothes. Now I constantly have to worry about whether my belly is hanging out under my shirt, or how obvious my love handles are pushing out over my tight jeans.
Taking measurements of my office chair and waiting with glee for the day I come home crying about outgrowing it and having to ask for a new one in front of my coworkers.
Taking me on long walks with our friends and acting confused about why I can’t keep up with anyone. Making sure everyone knows that I’m the reason we have to slow down and stop all the time.
Drawing attention to how much I’m stuffing my face when we all go out to dinner, despite their strict rules demanding I eat that much.
(wg story about being secretly turned into the office piggy)
You weren't worried about gaining weight at your new job, even if it did involve sitting behind a desk all day.
One of the first things you'd noticed when you'd come in for your interview was that everyone was in great shape.
No wonder, either, with all the ammenities the company offered. Free food - 3 meals and a day and as many snacks as you want, prepared by the in house chefs.
Fancy coffee machines, fridges stocked with kombucha and seltzer, a gym and spa on site, massages, a nap room - this place took employee wellbeing seriously.
You could already see yourself getting lean, putting on some muscle. Clearly the office culture was one of discipline, and you were ready to slot right in.
☕
Okay - maybe the first few weeks hadn't gone quite as planned. Your workload was heavier than you expected, so there was less time to hit the gym. The chef prepared meals were delicious - so delicious you found it almost impossible to opt for the healthier options over rich, indulgent dishes.
You were drinking a lot coffee to stay focused, at least the machines dispensed endless skinny cappuccinos, but even with that you found yourself craving a sugar hit for attention. The break room might be stocked with almonds and sawdust-tasting protein bars, but you found yourself grabbing a big scoop of m and ms several times a day.
The truth was, you weren't getting any fitter. Instead, you were feeling a little softer all over - especially at the top of your thighs which were spreading wider and wider in your plush office chair.
Meanwhile, your colleagues looked as good as ever. The guy in the next office keeps stopping by to see how you're settling in and every time you swear his grip is a little stronger as he jostles your shoulder.
You vow to double down on keeping in shape - though looks like you'll be working till ten tonight, so you're going to need to fuel up before then.
☕
The friday that marks six months at the company for you is also the night of the office hoilday party before you closed till new year.
Last year, you owned a cozy, baggy, oversized christmas jumper. Now, you own a just-about-covers-your-swelling-gut christmas jumper.
Still, the boss had insisted everyone wear something festive so you don't have much choice.
The party is lavish - specialty cocktails, a huge buffet and tuxedoed waiters circling with hors d'oeuvres and champagne to make sure there's always something within reach.
You mean to keep control of yourself, but all your coworkers keep pressing drinks on you, and pretty soon it's hard to say no. They keep reocmmending food as well, and then the tall girl from accounts you always though was cute is pushing a chocolate coated straberry between your lips. Soon everyone is taking it inturns to feed you, and as confused as you are you can't help but admit you're enjoying it - maybe too much.
That night, after you get home, you spend an hour touching yourself to the feeling of everyone's eyes on you as your over-tight jumper rode up over your rounded stomach.
The next morning though, you're embarassed. How can you have gotten so out of shape so fast? Sure the job is stressful, and there always seems to be food to hand, but everyone else in the office seems to have no problem.
When you're back in the office after new years you're going to turn things around. There's no point starting a diet during the holidays, but in a few weeks you're going to be on the track to dropping the pounds.
☕
Of course, it's not really your fault you can't seem to keep the weight off. Your colleagues all know a few things you don't.
They know that the coffee machine in your break room might offer sinny lattes, but they pour cream-thickened coffees filled with sugary syrups and enough caffeine to keep you craving six cups a day.
They know that the chef - infuses - certain dishes, and makes sure you grab those plates, leaving you dozing and snacking through the afternoon.
They know that your supervisor lets the canteen know to prepare extra large desserts right after assigning you a new pile of work, so you have something to help you deal with the stress.
And they know that one of the perks of the job - for them at, least - is getting to take their stress out on the office piggy. Once the workload gets too much for your struggling brain and your body is properly swollen you'll be gently offered a new role in the company, one more suited to your skill set.
You'll be so tired of the stress, and so eager to please you manager, you sign without reading the job description. That's why you're surprised when you're delivered to your new office and find nothing but a bed with thick straps at each corner and a cart loaded with food - and when your old office-neighbour comes in and grabs a box of doughnuts as he pulls down his suit pants.
I want to relinquish all control over my own body to some rich feeder who only sees me as a plump sex toy.
They feed me, house me, provide for me and all I have to do is submit myself to their control. Make a complete pig out of myself 24/7.
I have to stuff myself to the brim daily, my belly taut - stuffed painfully full.
I must be naked at all times so that my consistent growth can be admired.
I am required to be available for their use at all times, my mouth, my widening ass, my belly button as it grows ever deeper. I would say my dick, but under this arrangement that will disappear under my fat pad pretty quickly.
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Imagining a feeder who actively makes sure you don’t realize you’ve gotten massively fat. They size up your clothes without you ever noticing, never make comments about how big you are but how small you are. Lying about how there should be faster results, telling you that you should eat more followed by a painful stuffing. When you scroll places like tumblr admiring fellow gainers, seeing how big some people have made themselves, you start to realize how you look bigger than them. Your gut hangs lower, your thighs explode out of any pants and stretch marks cover your bulging belly. You tell your feeder this and they say how people always look smaller online, that you still have a long way to go to be as big as the fatties you once dreamt of becoming. All the while knowing that they had made you far bigger long ago and the only way to keep you going is to get you to a point where turning back is no longer an option.
It drives me absolutely wild with lust when I see a big bloated guy and his belly is completely riddled with stretch marks. Stretch marks are when your skin can't keep up with how fast you are getting fatter, which means the guy is either:
a. A complete and total food addicted pig who has been overeating for a long time (or hell, maybe not even that long of a time). He is probably eating 2-3x what he should be at every meal. He has a sweet tooth and is constantly having sugary foods and desserts after every meal. He is so addicted that even the appearance of angry red scars on his belly doesn't deter him from continuing to over-indulge. His friends all joke about the portion sizes he packs away and makes fun of how fat he is getting-- they are completely shocked when they see him at the beach or the pool and see the damage he has done to his body. He even has bloated puffy arms that have their own small stretch marks, showcasing the blubber inflating under his skin, while his giant rotund belly sticks out a foot in front of him and hangs down over his swim trunks. Speaking of swim trunks-- those were obviously purchased quite a few pounds ago because they look like they are painted on over thick, chubby thighs, barely containing his blubbery ass cheeks.
or b. He's like one of you guys-- a horny kinky gainer who is also addicted, but not so much addicted to the food, but the results of what the food does. Which means he spends every waking moment packing more and more food into his gut because the only thing that makes him horny and gets him to an orgasm is the thought of getting bigger and fatter. Every morning, he wakes up and chugs 2,000 calories of weight gain shake, then heads out to go get a high calorie fast food breakfast. He then spends the rest of the day alternating between snacking and shoveling in processed slop. The stretch marks on his belly are not worn as an act of indifference or shame, but of pride, knowing that he did this to himself. He is slowly disabling himself under hundreds of pounds of blubber, making it harder to walk, harder to do everything. His dick gets hard every time he gets up off the couch and slowly waddles to the kitchen, feeling every roll of flab jiggle and bounce. Every time he tries to pull up an old pair of jeans and they get stuck on his growing thighs, he gets so horny he has to stop and masturbate, another activity that is getting increasingly difficult as he grows-- breathing heavy and grunting as he reaches around that bloated, stretch mark covered belly to paw at his increasingly fat pad covered cock.
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🌀 Need to be hypnotized into becoming a perma-fatty slob and don’t snap me out of it until the transformation is complete and then let the older version of me struggle with the consequences 🌀
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