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Jogging bottoms suit you so well! Think how much more comfortable you are without a belt digging into that soft belly. It means you can squeeze a few more mouthfuls in without it hurting so you don't have to waste anything.

Yes, that is another new deep red stretch mark on your side, I'm surprised you could even see it with how rounded your belly is. I guess it isn't too round, then, is it?

Cutie, if they can't get you a uniform that fits, its their problem, not yours. So what if your belly is hanging out while you're working?

No, gorgeous, people are only staring because they're jealous of how beautiful you are. I know you're clumsy but no one in staring at the grease and sauce trailing down your chin and onto your shirt.

I don't know why your knees and hips hurt so much lately, but I think if you take it easy and stay at home you'll recover quicker. I'll be sure to keep bringing you nourishing food, handsome.

Don't be silly, your tummy is gurgling like that because you've not had enough, not because you've had too much. It will stop hurting when you've had your desserts, I'm sure of it.

Sweetheart, you don't have to choose between takeaways, don't worry! We can get them all, I know you'll fit it all in with my help, won't you?

Don't look so concerned, its perfectly normal to have a pounding heart after finishing your third helping of breakfast. Now, you ready for your fourth?

Darling, I'm obviously not feeding you enough, with you so tired from a minute's walk. Let's get you back in bed, okay? I'm upping your portions, get more energy in you for all you do.

Listen, its normal for a growing boy to have pains in his legs. Yes gorgeous, its normal to be unable to move them too. You don't need to move at all, what would you need to move for, I'm here.

You gasp and wheeze real adorable when I bring you more of your favourite, and it seems to get more desperate every time. Is food really that breathtaking to you?

It's okay if you can't speak cutie, I know exactly what each noise you can manage means. I love you that much. And a burp like that means you're ready for another of my special cakes, right? What did I just say? You don't need to use up precious energy to speak, just open that pretty mouth to eat, you hear me?

I know you miss them so I've brought your friends to visit. They're gonna be so shocked at your glow up. Aw, I love it when all you can do is drool and grunt like that, I know that means you're starving! You've got to look your best so have another tray of pasta, you look stunning when you're eating, darling.

Fatabz is the typical influencer that made one funny vid once and has been redoing the same sh@t ever since. But his hunger for fame had an impact on his body.

Same as Yasin, the fat turkish guy with the skibbidi-bop-bop belly dance, fatabz has also been gaining a whole lot of weigth lately. His three month transformation says more than any word:

But how did he even get here?

It's not a secret that he also was rather fat his whole life, then around 2025, he lost a bunch of weight and looked quite skinny and fit.

He got too comfortable with his fitness, and by 2026, he gained all the weight back. His full one year fat2fit2fatagain transformation:

And then, he got into the big stuff. He got sponsored by one too many street food vendors, and the comedy value, the fame, the hunger took over him completely.

It started off so harmless, didn’t it? I’m sure you can still grasp onto the memory of that gushing, warm excitement of dropping the act of normality with me, falling for every sweet word I carefully selected to keep you hooked. There really was an intoxicating thrill in watching your naïve submission to all those dormant desires you kept hidden for years, lovingly enabling and encouraging you to indulge in them for me. I mean, I truly seemed so harmless.

You were far too entranced with desperately earning my attention to realise how slowly I’d been guiding you to your demise, anyways. The extremities of it seemed like such a distant sexual fantasy for you, of course I’d never actually do all of those things you’d begged for in a lustful haze, right? It was all sweet talk at the start, utterly harmless. Plus, you’d do absolutely anything to keep me interested in you, I’d been so addictively obsessive and adoring, how couldn’t you? You were so easy to gain access to, so vulnerable and intensely drawn to the attractive future I’d sincerely promised you as I’d pressed another spoonful past your lips and stroked your increasingly swollen cheek.

I’d gained so much control over your pathetic little mind I had you blissfully ignorant to my sinister, true intentions far beyond playful indulgence and temporary fantasies. You didn’t question me when I’d revoked your contact with your friends, dismissing it as my jealousy, drowning in my superficial admiration and slowly growing control. You’d desperately humiliate yourself to please me, to earn my touch, you foolishly let your future and body slowly slip into my hands all for the irresistible approval I’d give you every time. Swallowing your doubts, you’d looked straight past the occasional freudian slip where I’d get a little too excited, a little too rough with you. I was still harmless in your eyes, what’s the worst I could do? You didn’t really think I’d feed you to death, after all. I seemed too loving, almost too genuine, especially as you grew softer and more docile for me.

It’s a shame I couldn’t hold onto the act for longer, pig. I simply couldn’t bear the nauseating romance I’d fabricated to gain your trust, and your life, for any longer. You’d so willingly let me pour the sedatives down your gullet, so clouded with unconditional adoration towards me.

Harmless, right?

That bewildered, transfixed look on your face was precious as you felt yourself grow heavy, your senses dulled and excruciatingly numb as I gently caressed your clammy forehead and whispered all the sick things I’d do to you, now that you were completely mine to take. God, I loved your inhumane squeals and horrified, hysterical crying that carried on until your voice broke, your throat torn up and raw after all that screaming, all in vain, of course. I understand, it must’ve been so incredibly distressing to not feel anything from the neck down, to discover nothing but bloodied, tightly bandaged stumps instead of your useless little hands. It’s so sweet how unsuspecting you were, and now there you lay, spinal cord snapped, half mutilated, absolutely mine. A limp, useless pig to be force fed and slaughtered, choking on the laced slop crammed down your gullet, and on your pitiful tears. I never liked empty promises in moments of desperation; I took them far too literally, and here you are now, facing the laughable consequences of your own weakness, so easily taken advantage of.

I’ve had a lot of fun with your disgusting body since, my little project pig. Don’t you just adore the sickening snout I’ve carved into that pretty face of yours, now truly piggish and permanently swollen to obscure your features? I’m sure you love all the adorable insults I’ve carved deep into your ripe lard as a persistent reminder of your pathetic status, though sometimes you seem a little ungrateful for all the hard work I’ve put into building you into my engorged, feeble fuck toy. Though I’ve taken care of your persistent squealing, you still occasionally seem desperate to use human words, unsuccessfully however, with those unfortunately severed vocal cords of yours. Your ankles are all gruesomely crushed up, left to heal far too wrong to ever allow you to drag your obscene pig carcass away from my care, an extra measure aside from your orchestrated paralysis that’s left your muscles agonisingly atrophied and plainly useless. I no longer have to pretend I ever saw you as anything but a fresh piece of bloated flesh to play with, a shameful animal to lay my perverted touch on and release my frustrations upon. I’ll have so much fun with you, my experiment. It’s not like you could ever say no to me, can you, pig? You can’t stop me from playing with your oxygen for fun as you feebly try to gulp down air. You can’t object to me slipping down a stream of sugar down your throat until your blood almost crystallises, you’ll never have the power to stop me from injecting your veins with my new formulations, or from wearing out your strained pig heart I’ll have to jolt alive with a defibrillator. But I’m so harmless, aren’t I? I’m only doing this because you wanted it, after all, piggy.

- needing two chairs ( or more ) just to fit your fat ass at the buffet as you've barely fitted through the door

- getting banned from said buffet as you get fed to the point of having your belly in front of everyone, getting gropped and kissed by your feeder as they tell you how much fatter they're going to make you while everyone looks at you in shock, wondering how someone can let themselves go this far into obesity for their own pleasure with no regrets

- having your feeder nurse look after you and take care of your every needs, stuffing you beyond your limits each day as you struggle to breath under your gut pinning you in place, begging to be pleasured as your piggy mind gets hornier and hornier with each bite and slap on your jiggling gut

- needing mobility aids just to move your lard ridden body around ( bariatric cane, wheelchair, mobility scooter, etc. ) for the time being, just waiting for the inevitable moment you won't be able to move an inch from your bed, now having two purpose, getting stuffed and fucked like the perfect immobile piggy you are while growing even fatter for you and your feeders pleasure

Through the dense wilderness a sizable tanker truck carefully winds down a lone road. The crunch of gravel under its tires and its rumbling engine disturb the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. After a while the monotony of trees finally parts to reveal a large lakeside clearing. 

An expensive log cabin house sits at the end of the remote path. Standing one story tall with a wraparound porch that encompasses the main entrance and its waterfront side. The wood of its roof and siding has a reddish hue to it that contrasts against the overwhelming evergreens surrounding it.

The truck slowly rolls to a stop before the cabin, letting out a loud creek along with a puff of air as its engine rests. Moments later its driver door is thrown open as the man behind the wheel emerges. 

Clad in a pair of dark navy coveralls he steps down out of his seat onto the ground below. The only significant detail on his suit is the name embroidered across the left breast pocket, ‘Locke’. Small tufts of bright blonde hair peek out from all sides underneath his cap. A company logo is centered on its front, composed of the letters, ‘BYB’.

Large from Grommr

I would love to see you rub your belly and take your t shirt off, running a hand over your belly and slapping your fat as you laugh and say “this thing is going to be the death of me soon”. As you tell anyone watching that you don’t expect to survive your next heart scare.

I want you to proudly stick your gut out and ask me if I even think you will look good in a coffin.

As I run a tape measure round your belly and tease you about how big you are getting I want to hear you tell me that you expect to die young because of how fat you are letting yourself become.

I want you to be so reckless that as even I, and others, warn you about how out of shape you are getting that you just give a little smirk. We both know exactly what you are doing as you let me feed you fatter each day. Happily working up your heart as you tell me you want an open casket funeral.