meat to sell

My wife told me that the idea of me getting too big to leave the bed without her help turns her on more than anything else. This past year she’s been feeding me like it. I consume a daily intake enough for three people. Chug down an ice cream shake every night. My tits have gotten so big they wrap around to my back fat. My belly apron feels so heavy when I waddle. I spend most of the day in bed. A stay at home pig husband.

I haven’t been anywhere in months. I no longer have a wardrobe that fits me. My upper arm fat is starting to fold over my elbows. My wife pinches and jiggles it as she hand feeds me cookies, cake, donuts, whatever we have.

I’m not capable of penetrative sex anymore. I can’t fuck her. Too much of my cock is submerged in fat pad. “I want it completely buried,” my wife said the other day. “I want you stuck in bed eating for me. So loyal you eat yourself to the point your dick is buried.”

Tw: Health issues, fat shaming, nonconsensual gaining

What’s the matter babe, something wrong with your food? It never takes you this long to polish off a family meal deal. Usually, I can’t even get to the next drive-thru before you’re tilting your head back to choke down the last of the fries. You know I love seeing those pudgy hands pouring the crumbs and salt and grease down that blubber-covered throat of yours. But we’re almost there and you’ve barely finished the second burger — what’s going on?

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.

You should really be more proud

No one can quite believe just how massive you’ve gotten

In just a few short months you’ve gone from relatively average to a full blown, out of control, greedy glutton

The stretch marks all over your new belly rolls speak for themselves

You really can’t help yourself now, can you?

You thought it would be fun to put on 10lbs to see if you like it but now you’re fully food addicted and food motivated

Every time something fattening and calorie dense touches your lips it’s like you enter a trance, it’s really quite something to witness

Your eyes glaze over and you mindlessly stuff yourself until you physically can’t anymore. Your mind tries to press on the breaks but you can’t stop yourself from bingeing

You poor, greedy thing. You can’t help but stuff your chubby lips and make yourself balloon, thats all you know how to do now

You’re destined to be an overstuffed, spoiled, lard coated feedee for the rest of your life and I love how much the thought of that turns you on

Oh there is plenty you could do, little pork chop. You could diet, you could exercise, you could even do as little as just not gorging yourself sick. You could do those things, but I know that you know, you just really don't want too, and as much as the realization scares you. You're here because you like the thrill. Knowing you're cramming untold calories down your throat that will turn into more layers of juicy jiggly adipose. How loud is the voice of reason these days? Barely a whisper id wager, seeing as how you've found your way to me.

Do you want to earn praise?

And when they're so horny they can't focus, you drive them to food, promising them some release if they eat everything you give them, even if it sends their body through a roller coaster of pain. It's almost like playing Russian roulette with their heart, seeing if they are fat enough to not live through another heart attack. Or to force feed them within an inch of their hog life, and still have your way with them as they recover and digest the sugary, fattening side sludge you've been feeding them.

Seeing them so young, and yet so eager to live their life as nothing more than fat playthings, fed to death with the right amount of sadistic intimacy and gluttony. Knowing that their inevitable lifestyle will end them before they reach 30 at the youngest, to even 40 or 50. Turning their room into a stye, and eventually their tomb, knowing that you were with them every step of the way, from every feeding session to the moments you went under their belly, pressed deep into their fupa, and making them jiggle and tremble until they leaked their unhealthy, glistening cum as a reward.

I find dark gaining and death feederism oh so beautiful, and to fantasize the day when you stuff them so fat they don't move anymore, don't breathe, their skin pales, eyes glazed and milky, they can't even hold the food in anymore, knowing their life was fulfilled thanks to your dedicated efforts, knowing their life ended by setting an example to how a death feedee should be, how an immobile megachub should eat, how a proper piggy is made, only to start the cycle again with another eager gainer, unaware they are getting way, way more than they're bargained for.. It puts a smile on my face and I'm sure it does for you too 😊