Fat, fatter, yet fatter still

There are so many folks looking to gain weight etc but how many legitimately want to be 600lb+? I’m not talking fantasy. I’m talking IRL and all the thing s that come with it.

Reblog if you’re looking to be truely supersized.

Reblog if you’re also wanting a partner that’s truely supersized.

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imagine you go out one day to go shopping and grab some lunch on the way back.  you pass by a new drive-thru restaurant that seems intriguing enough to try out, so you drive in to wait in the (surprisingly) long line of cars.

it’s a typical fast food place, with burgers and sandwiches, chicken tenders, fries, and desserts like cookies and ice cream, the usual stuff.  the serving sizes seem rather large, but you think “whatever, I’ll get the 20 piece chicken strips and a medium fries and keep the leftovers for dinner”.

you order your food and a large lemonade to go with it, and once you get your food, you just pull into one of the parking spots in the lot to eat, because once you smelled the food you realized just how hungry you were.

you dig in, taking a hefty bite of one of the breaded chicken tenders, and let out a pleased little sigh because wow, for a fast food place, these are really good.  so, you continue eating, alternating between dipping in various sauces and nibbling on some fries while you casually check your phone to pass the time.

before you know it, you’ve gone through 10 of the 20 tenders, but you feel like you could keep going.  your stomach protests slightly, and is already beginning to look bloated.   you unbuckle your seatbelt to offer yourself more comfort, and continue eating regardless of the slight discomfort.  before even realizing what’s happened, you finish off the last 10 tenders, all your fries, and nurse your lemonade while rubbing your slightly distended belly.  you weren’t that big to begin with, but with the large amount of food, your stomach looks huge in comparison to how it was.  even your tee-shirt has ridden up just slightly to show a small sliver of skin above your waistband.

you sit in the lot for a while, feeling too full to start driving home immediately, and hope some of your discomfort dissipates.  just as you’re about to start to head home, there’s a little tap on your window from one of the workers.  when you unroll your window, they give you a warm smile and ask if you’d like to order some food to take home, as well as a complimentary ice cream cone.

even though any other time, with such a full belly, you’d turn down any offer of food, you find yourself agreeing to order another round, this time a 30 piece chicken tender box, another medium fry, and the ice cream cone, justifying your larger order with “I’ll have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow”.

you get your food, and eat your ice cream as you drive home.  while the food smells wonderful, you convince yourself to wait till later to eat so you can digest some more.  although, you end up eating dinner earlier than usual because you just can’t wait to eat more of the tenders.  the smell fills your small apartment as you heat everything up in the oven, even all 30 of the chicken tenders without thinking to simply set some aside for tomorrow, and you barely wait for it to cool down before you start eating.

they’re just as divine as they’d been earlier in the day, and once again you find yourself plowing through 20 of the tenders again, rubbing at your belly once more, this time even more distended than earlier.  you set aside the other 10 and the rest of your fries for now, and just sit back on the couch to watch TV.  a few hours later, you do end up finishing the last of the food, and scold yourself for eating tomorrow’s lunch as you rub your massive, hard belly as it peeks out from your shirt.  

after sitting there for a while longer, you finally get up and waddle to your bedroom to pass out till the next day.

when you wake up, you immediately find your stomach growling, but you don’t notice that you’re a bit chubbier than you were yesterday.  you go about your morning, eating some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, and as lunchtime comes closer, you are only thinking about that fast food place.

“the chicken sandwich did look really good…” you think, and decide to go out to get lunch there again.  “it won’t become a habit,” you think, “I’m sure I’ll burn out on it by next week”.

once again, you sit in the lot with your shockingly enormous sandwich, and rather than eat only half of it like you assumed you would, you eat all of it and the medium fries you got with it.  once again, a worker comes to take a second order from you as you rub your even more distended belly, and you get another sandwich, 20 chicken tenders, large fries, a milkshake, and a complimentary ice cream that you eat on the drive home.

and again, that night, you somehow manage to eat all the food you brought home, this time having to unbutton your jeans as you sit on the couch and let your taught stomach rest in your lap.

the next day, you notice your shirts are a little more fitting, but you just make a mental note to buy some new ones soon, and don’t notice when you eat much more breakfast than you usually do, and at this point already you’re running on autopilot as you head out to the fast food place to get your lunch.

you end up doing the same routine day after day, hardly even realizing it, and eventually you pay little mind to the shrinking of your clothes, since really you aren’t seeing anybody, since you work from home. who cares if your belly sticks out even when your stomach is empty?

you start to wear sweatpants every day, and even then the fabric begins to cling to your thighs and ass and you’re worried they’ll rip every time you bend over. your stomach and love handles are incredibly soft, and every time you go to eat, rather than check your phone as you chow down, you play with your plush midsection and feel as it gets fuller, rounder, harder.

you also find that your serving sizes keep growing.  a 20 piece chicken tender basket now just feels like an appetizer, so you automatically order the 50 piece.  one sandwich makes you feel comfortably full, so you start ordering 2 or 3 at a time. you also begin ordering the extra large fries, along with a large shake, and you buy an ice cream outright from now on, and also take the complimentary one home with you later.  eventually your meals become all of these items combined, for multiple sandwiches, the largest amount of tenders possible, the largest fries, and the most calorie-heavy drink.

on the 12th day of you going there, and trying the last item on the menu, you finish off by stuffing yourself full of 50 chicken tenders, and the last half of an extra large bag of fries, and wash it down with a large extra-thick chocolate milkshake. earlier that morning, you’d woken up to see that your sweatpants had burst at the seams around your thighs, and you couldn’t pull them up to cover your whole ass.  and that was a new pair you’d ordered online, and thankfully you had another pair lying around that you managed to somehow squeeze into.

you’d given up on shirts at this point, as every day you seemed to grow out of a new one, so even with a XX-large shirt on, half your stomach was on display even when empty. getting out of bed was beginning to become an ordeal, and walking from your apartment door to your car in the parking lot left you out of breath.

now, as you sat in the parking lot with your incredibly full stomach, you let out a little groan. you rubbed at the expanse of flesh, noting how it pushed your shirt up all the way to where it was only stretched across your breasts. the sleeves were already beginning to feel tight, much like your pants. you pushed aside enough of your stomach to notice that the seams were already bursting on your new sweatpants, and groan again, though you admit it’s out of pleasure and not out of frustration for needing to buy a new pair already.

again, a worker comes to take your second order, and you order the same as you’d had that day, plus another 50 chicken tenders and two large milkshakes.

you manage to get your seatbelt on from around your fat stomach, now with an extender on it because 5 days ago you realized your seatbelt didn’t fit anymore. but, that issue had been solved, and now there was a new one.

with your pile of food safely on the passenger seat, you make to start driving, but find that your stomach is sticking out so far that it’s pressing into the steering wheel and making it impossible to use.  it makes you moan, and you rub gently at your stomach again as you try to think a way out of this.  you try moving your seat back, but once that’s done, your feet can no longer reach the pedals well enough to feel safe driving. it’s then that you realize you really are squeezed into your little car, with your flabby love handles pressing hard into the door on your left, and falling over the center console on your right.

you just look around, in a bit of a daze, and give in to the fact that you’ll have to sit and wait to digest a bit so your stomach isn’t so full.

you start by just scrolling through your phone, rubbing at your belly with your free hand, though you soon find that, as your stomach becomes less full, you reach for some of the fries on the passenger seat, and then reach for some tenders, and finish both of the milkshakes, justifying it with “otherwise they’ll melt if they just sit here!”

almost as if on cue, a worker comes up to the window again, and you order two more milkshakes and another large fry and 20 tenders, and that’s when you learn they’re implementing a delivery system for devoted customers, which you find you are one of.  they hand you a menu with a delivery number to call, and you thank them, before mustering up enough self control to sit for a while and not eat anything else, until you can drive home.

Those wanderers who find this glade seldom return to the realm of men as it is a gateway to the fae, and the fae are all too eager to entertain their guests. Sweet nectar oozes from every colorful flower, the very land itself tempting the woeful traveller to partake. Beautiful figures with ample breasts and rears flock to meet the new arrival, eager and even desperate to entice and please.

If the interloper resists the temptation in their heart, they will find themselves back home. However, if even a sliver of desire rests within them, it will grow and blossom into sweet indulgence. The nectar will call to them, it's sweet song deafening and ever present. The nymphs will swarm, poking and prodding and whispering sweet nothing of dreams so deep and dark that even the gods should be ignorant of them. The traveller will relent. They all do. They will sip the sweet syrup of the land, they will embrace the eager lovers clamoring for them, and they will be claimed by the glade. Their mind will be overwhelmed with pleasure, the tastes and feelings so pure and perfect that they forget their home, their loved ones, their very being. They will indulge endlessly on nectar and fruits, wild caught game smoked and seasoned perfectly as their body fills more and more. They will lose track of time, forgetting how long they've been in this heavenly orgy of sensations. They will never feel full, as their belly grows taught and full, but never hurting.

Time will pass, a deluge of pleasure enrapturing the once fit adventurer. Their body has grown weak, their muscles fading with time as their whims are met with eager service from the nymphs of the glade. They will have notice their growth. Their thighs thicker than timber but soft as dough, rolls consuming their once worn feet. Their heaving, cascading belly having long past swallowed their crotch, though the nymphs gladly dug through the mountain of lard to continue the endless wave of pleasure for their most esteemed guest. Their arms struggle to raise more than a few inches, their wrists swallowing the hands which once wielded blades or bows but now idly grope either their growing fat or the bosoms of their new wardens. Long have these nymphs been tending to the traveller since they can no longer lift their arms, plump sausage fingers failing to grasp much or bring food past the folds of fat that conceal their neck and jawline.

And despite the horror theat would wrack a mortal man's heart at the sight of such a grotesque parody of a human, they were unable to feel anything but total, utter, complete bliss. Each inch and pound added to their form was quite literally orgasmic, every last drop and crumb of food that made its way down their throat was heavenly.

The traveller was so focused on their unending indulgence, they never noticed the numerous other denizens of the glade who had arrived before them, let alone the newest victim to stumble in.

You got drunk on the fullness. Those soft, steady lulls, filling up your stomach, scoring another notch over your hunger with a burp and a sigh.

It’s pleasure. But it’s so tough not to push when there’s something left on your plate. Another slice of pizza. A salty fistful of fries. A beefburger, sorely missing a bite or two…

That’s how you felt it the first time. That pang from within. A little too much, a little too soon. Your middle, stretching past its means, straining to swaddle that last spoonful of mac and cheese. Every shimmy sends a stabbing thrust through your swollen form. Tenderness - dwarfed only by the need for more.

Months of munching before it gripped you again, away from the kitchen cupboards. Your ‘bigger’ clothes - they began to pinch, squeeze, rake up your thighs, bite into your body. Jeans became binding. Necklaces became chokers. Belts became curbs on the shape you were taking on. Fewer angles. More curves. But you left the seams where they were. You wanted those bands to jut into your chest, digging their way down your sides. You needed that relentless, clenching hold on you.

You needed the pain.

Soon, even in your summer clothes, it sought you out. The aches, the groans as your body adjusted around your growing appetite. The struggles to bend, to reach… to wrest yourself behind a desk, the woodwork pressed to greet you with a fractured creak.

To breathe… lungs yearning for release from the cake, puddings and pies you were putting away. Keeping the weight off your feet softened those smarting thrusts - until they came for you in your loveseat. Your thighs mushed up together. Your hips too wide for the sides. So fat it hurt to relax - yet the deliveries kept coming. And coming…

And now you’re bloated. Loaded and stuffed, hammed-out on the couch, waiting. He hasn’t let you use your hands. Night after night. Your clothes lie split in the corner. The taste of the hot dog lingers on your tongue. He pushes it down past your lips. One. Then another. Then another…

Those handcuffs are beginning to constrict you. Rolls upon rolls of soft, sensitive bulk. Pins and needles tingle your chubby fingers. Pain from above. Always in blissful agony. From your waist. From your ribs. From the hang of your gut. From the way the rope wraps around your stretchmarked skin…