Wanted to be told how much of a pig you are during a hypnosis video? Here are a selection of files Iâve found online. If you know of any more, then message me:
Desire to be a Fetish Pig
http://www.mediafire.com/file/a4zspzrahy5tjmr
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He's standing on the scale again, the thick slab of his fat belly and sides wobbling with his labored breaths as he leans forward enough to read the number. His mouth scrunches a little. Dissatisfaction atop his oversatisfied body.
"What is it?" his feeder asks, coming up behind him and resting a comforting hand on the shelf of fat made up by his love handles. "360! Oh my god, that's great! See, I told you those shakes were making a difference, that's up twelve pounds from last month."
"It's⊠not enough."
"Look, you've been literally drinking down as many liquid calories as you can. Every day. Three pounds a week is a lot! I know you want to be bigger, it's justâ"
"I don't just want to be bigger," he says, his hands running soothing, longing lines along the stripes formed on his belly where the skin is already struggling to stretch over the fat being packed on, pound by pound. "I need to be bigger. So much bigger."
"We can try adding more fat. Cooking things in butter and maybe fitting another shake in before bed? I know you don't sleep as well on a full stomach, butâŠ"
"It just won't be enough," he says, more than a little crestfallen. In the last half-year, he packed on sixty pounds. Ten additional pounds of fat was finding its way onto his body every month. His belly had widened and spilled out at his sides, started hanging lower and pushing out rounder against his shirts. His chest and face were fuller, swollen with fat.
But he needed more. And his feeder knew it.
"There is one thing we could try," his feeder says. His attention perks up immediately. "You remember my college roommate, the one that does that food science stuff? There's⊠something sort of experimental. But it's supposed to be pretty reliableâŠ"
Not even a full second lingered before he could blurt out, "Yes. Please!"
His feeder goes into the kitchen and brings back a vial of liquid. He looks skeptical. "What is that some magic thing to make me gain a hundred pounds in an instant? Something out of one of those stories to blow me up?" he snorts.
"No, but it⊠you'll gain a pound a day. Every day that we add this into your food, if you really fill yourself with enough food, it's a metabolicâit doesn't matter, but you'll gain a pound a day with this. Should we try it out?"
He grabs one of his softened pints of ice cream from the counter, peeling off the lid and offering it to his feeder to as a vessel for the compound. "A pound a day, huh? Let's try it out."
True to the claim, when he stepped onto the scale the next day, he was exactly 361 pounds. This one pound felt more exciting than any of the previous sixty; it felt like it came with a near-certain promise of more. The compound made the shake sit heavier in his belly than normal, like his belly was somehow needing to stretch a little more into discomfort to accommodate that one single drop, but the next day brought another pound. And another the day after.
For the first week, he had fun searching for the extra pound on his body with his feeder.
"I think it was a tits pound yesterday, I can feel it," he laughs, waking up bloated on the seventh day and taking the blender into his hands to chug down the new day's shake, giggling through his greedy gulps as his feeder gropes at his swollen chest.
The first month brought thirty pounds as expected, bringing him to a heavy 390. His belly was rounder, his sides were thicker, his rolls and thighs visibly puffier with the as his body tried to allocate the weight around somewhat evenly. He was laying on the couch, his hands jostling his extra fat around, feeling for himself how much more of his belly rested against his widening thighs when his feeder brought the shake in.
"Are you sure we can't try more than a drop? It feels so good being able to tell I'm getting fatter like thisâŠ" he asks.
"If we pour the whole thing in, you'll still just gain a pound today, and then we'll be out," his feeder assures him, taking his belly in their hands and coaxing his mouth open to chug down his shake, watching as the creases on his neck bulge with his every swallow. His arms rested more against the swollen bulges of fat at his sides than against his torso. New, pink stretch marks were dappling his skin everywhere from his lower belly to his arms.
"What if I ate more?" he pleads, kneading his doughy fat with such intensity that it seemed he was expecting it to rise.
"I could spoonfeed you the most fattening thing you have in the kitchen, but you'd still gain a pound a day."
Grumbling a little, his plump face in a cute, eager pout, he goes back to tipping the blender against his mouth, making sure every drop slides down his throat.
By the end of the second month, things weren't fitting him well. His underwear waistbands had gotten tight, shirts clung to the roundness of his middle belly and let the bottom hang free. The warmth of the summer demanded shorts, but his thighs could barely squeeze into his biggest pair. His feeder shifted his wardrobe, everything elastic and forgiving and oversized as they continued dropping a pound per day into his swelling form. The 400 milestone had come and gone, the next day's pound always spurring him on.
"You could just not wear anything, you know," his feeder teasees, folding all of the once-oversized shirts that were now frayed and torn at the seams where his fattest parts strained them.
"I'd bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he grins, lifting handfuls of his belly fat to show that there wasn't much exposed at all beneath it, given how much his thighs pressed together and his underbelly sat heavy against them. His feeder's hands admired and soothed every inch of his swelling body.
"At this rate, you'll be too big for anything in your closet next month," his feeder smirks, always wanting more of him.
Halfway through the fourth month, he was starting to feel the extra weight adding up. He was breathless, panting and red in the face from carrying groceries from the car. The exertion needed to move his body these short distances was proving enticing to both of them; it didn't take long for him to be breathless and panting on the couch for entirely different reasons.
His feeder was straddling his lap, pressing against the mass of his belly, with their thumb on his chin to guide it open for his daily shake.
"It's not getting to be too much? A hundred extra pounds isn't enough for my big guy yet?" his feeder asks, dangling the first drops of shake at the blender's edge.
"More. I can take it. I want it. Please," he says, that same eagerness from when he was a meager 360 pounds holding steady in his voice and on his face, "please make me even fatter."
As he gained, every day felt like another opportunity to feel the excessive weight affecting his body in new ways. He felt huge, and knew he'd get even bigger the next day. The next week. The next month.
His feeder started to take care of some of the little things: tying his shoes; holding the blender up so his heavy arms wouldn't get tired during his daily shake; lifting his deliciously-inconvenient rolls out of the way when their mutual affection for his body demanded reaching and spreading to reward his indulgence with even more pleasure. The almost-anxious need he'd felt to push himself to grow and grow at any cost was softened into a blissful relishing of how much of his day was filled with thoughts and sensations of food and his own fat.
Five-hundred pounds seemed like a good point to reevaluate. The number seemed so far off, until it wasn't. His weight climbed by a pound a day, but the sheer size of his body was reaching the point where even a couple weeks' worth of pounds seemed to be lost in the swollen, blob-like mass of his belly or the spreading rolls of soft fat on his sides and thighs. Spaces around his body were closing rapidly: his chin brushed his chest; his side rolls folded onto his butt; his thighs pushed each other apart until his belly was resting on the couch, demanding more and more space.
The shake with the compound would earn him his pound, but he was finding more and more that his love for the immense amounts of food he could eat was retuning. Why, after all, if he was going to gain a pound anyways, wouldn't he want to cram himself full of as many sweet, greasy calories as his growing stomach could accommodate? His feeder delighted in feeding him as much as he could handle.
"You know, five-hundred pounds was last week," his feeder says, tracing small circles on his immense belly as they dipped a spoon to scoop another mouthful of ice cream-soaked cookies into his mouth.
"Really?" he says, shifting a little, his weight making the couch groan, the distance imposed by his belly between him and his feeder making his mind tingle. "How do you know? I haven't made it onto the scale recentlyâŠ"
"Because I can count," his feeder says. "The number is practically tattooed on my brain, then I add one to it first thing in the morning. Plus, these are unmistakably the tits of a five-hundred pound guy," they add, lifting and letting his swollen roll of a moob flop onto his belly. "You're 506 pounds, in case you were wondering."
"Mmmm say the number again?" he says, breathing heavily as he struggled to lean forward against his own bulk for his mouth to meet the next bite.
"Five-hundred," his feeder says, tipping the shake into his mouth, listening to his growing moans as the shake filled him and his feeder's hands pressed against the bloat. "Six pounds."
Six-hundred, he admits to his feeder, was really the number he wanted to experience. Big enough that he could retain some shreds of independence and mobility, but enormous enough to struggle a little. The colder winter months were designed for him to lounge on the couch, his body swelling to take up the tiniest bit more of it each day. The warmth of blankets, baked goods, his feeder's touch, and his own soft fat keeping him happy and growing.
He didn't need the scale anymore. His feeder would write the new number on a small dry erase board on the other side of the room so he could see it ticking up. 525. 526. 527. He wondered when he would feel it again. When he would have one of those oh shit moments about how much bigger he'd gotten. But the couch's support and his feeder's care kept him growing with ease. 541. 542. 543. The holidays arrived, with many extra treats for the big guy.
Tracking his weight wasn't enough. His feeder documented the spread of his hips, the size of his arms, the weight of his moobs. He became obsessed with finding new ways to quantify his fatness, eating his way through more and more of his day, most pleased with himself when his jowls were wobbling against his chest fold mid-chew.
The food was the work and the food was the reward.
The compound upheld its part and he continued his growth into spring as the impossibly-big 600 pound milestone loomed.
The weather warmed and with his feeder's help he emerged into the blooming yard at 598 pounds, not daring to sit on any furniture that couldn't handle his weight, feeling the warm rays of sun hitting all of the new fat that had accumulated on him since hunkering down for such a cozy, caloric winter.
"There's not that much left," his feeder warns. He looks up, face smeared with frosting as he eats his "happy 600 pounds" cake by the handful. The vial had a little less than a quarter left. "I should've known you weren't going to spread this out."
He grins. "I am spreading out," he says, leaning back on the couch and letting his fat splay outwards towards the arms, hardly any room for his dedicated feeder to join him to sit without being on or tucking under his bulk.
"What if⊠we just used it up," he suggests. He was heavy, very heavy, but he could still manage to move. He'd get some more movement in. The depth of his belly threatened to spill past his knees when he sat, the fat folding into thick, biteable rolls for his feeder to admire and attend to.
"You know I can't say no to you," his feeder says, their mouth locking onto their favorite roll on his neck as their hands interlaced with his and they made a meal of feeding him his shake.
The days passed more quickly now, though he moved less and less. He would accept some help heaving himself up from the couch to take few wobbling, breathless steps to the other side of the room. He spent hours with his hands running across the vastness of his own fat, knowing each day and each shake meant one more pound and one fewer day remaining that he could unwaveringly count on growth.
His hips and thighs reached the sides of the couch at 640. For fun, he showed his feeder how he'd outgrown the entryway to their kitchen by 650. "I guess it's really up to you if I get fatter now, I literally can't get to the blender" he says. His feeder only grins in return and lifts the shake to his lips again, utterly devoted.
Soon he shifted to counting down the pounds he had left to gain before the vial ran out. He estimated 30 left. Then 20. Ten, probably. Was it the 697 that mattered more or the ten?
Everything about his body drove him wild. Every dimple. Every fold. Every spot his feeder touch felt electrically charged by the swelling fat expanding his area of perception. His feeder spared no teasing detail about how utterly cumbersome his body had become to navigate and the intensity of their shared pleasure at those inconveniences grew together, too.
The last drop made its way into his shake one morning, topping him out at 714 pounds. His body was enormously fat, every part of him overflowing with soft, heavy flab that cocooned him and his feeder in their embraces together.
"I'm so, so hugeâŠ" he hasps, like an exhalation from the unrelenting journey he'd taken over the last year. His soft arms rested against his front, chubby fingers kneading constantly on his belly as though he needed to physically verify the weight was still there.
"Does it feel like you'd hoped?" his feeder asks.
"Better," he admits, taking the time to feel how the weight encumbered his limbs and begged him to stay as sedentary as he and his feeder would allow. "I can't believe we used it all."
"I can," his feeder says, warmly, their hand patting the middle of his belly to ripple out across the few hundred extra pounds caked onto his increasingly-shapeless body.
"I guess this is it thenâŠ" he says, with a sigh. His eyes and hands moving along every inch of his body they could reach, trying to soak in the feeling of being this big, knowing the compound-assisted gravy train had come to an end. His feeder's hands wrapped around him, sinking into the mass of his body.
"What if you⊠maintained," his feeder suggests.
"You mean⊠stay this big?" he asks, turning over his hands to survey his arms, thinking about the potential of carrying around this weight for more time.
"Yeah," his feeder says. "It'll take a lot of eating, but I think you might just be ready for that," they said, playfully squeezing the bulk of his cheeks. "You might need to really pile on the sweets and stuff to keep the weight on, but what's a few extra desserts a day when you're seven-hundred gorgeous pounds?"
"Feed me as much as you want, being this big I don't ever need to gain another pound," he says, moving his hips to entice his feeder to return quickly with his vanilla shake, grateful for everything the compound had given him and determined with his feeder's help to sustain all the weight he'd grown during the year.
Every single pound felt like the most important one he'd gained.
~
this one goes out to the ever-inspiring @stonednsoft, whose greed for his next pound is unmatched :)
When someone mentioned the super bowl, I would always laugh. I had neither the time, nor the interest, to waste over three or four hours watching a bunch of big muscle brutes tackle each other over some stupid game that had no real repercussions. To me, the people that watch the Superbowl were just fat, middle-aged people who had nothing better do with their time - and as a young wealthy businessman on the West Coast, I had nothing to do with those kinds of losers.
Well, that was true, at least before I ended up moving to NoWheresVille, Iowa. My company was starting up a new location and they wanted me to be the head of the new office. I reluctantly agreed, realizing that it could be a stepping stone to a much better position in a much more suitable location.
So I moved to a nice home in a typical Midwestern suburban neighborhood. The neighbors were all typical - pushing their late 40âs, all with kids who had moved on and wives that had divorced them. I thought it strange that nobody in the neighborhood was still married, but I figured it was a product of the times - I had never held onto a woman myself, although that was more my choice than theirs. The guys seemed nice enough, but I always declined their invitation to barbecues, cookouts, and other neighborhood-wide activities they would host. I was an established businessman - I didnât want to hang out with all the overweight, middle-aged rednecks that lived around me, nice or not.
As the weeks progressed, however, I realized finding friends that shared my values would be harder and harder. I was forced to work over Christmas, and with the colder winter months came a crippling loneliness. I became more and more desperate through the new year. Then, one day, I noticed a note in my mailbox:
To my fellow Lakeside Community Members:
 Iâll be hosting a Superbowl party this Sunday, and Iâd love if you all could make it. Bob and I will provide the snacks, you guys supply the booze. See ya there, fellas.
   -Tom
I decided that I had nothing better to do that day, and it was apparent I wasnât going to make any other friends. So I showed up on game day half an hour before the game, with an expensive bottle of wine in hand. After a quick knock on the door, it was thrown open, a big, gruff man in jeans answering the door, sporting what I assumed to be a sports jersey of one of the teams.
âHi there, my name is Howard, I live at the end of Sycamore Street in the green house and - â
âSay no more buddy! Iâm Tom.â I extended my hand to introduce myself, but the big guy, who I now know was Tom, pulled me into his stomach in a tight hug. I was a little appalled - I barely knew the manâs name, and he had a slight scent of body odor emanating from his armpits, which, upon inspection, had small sweat stains creeping over his puffy chest. He released me after a moment, grabbed the wine, and then boomed: âGood of ya to join us - many of us were wonderinâ if you were just some hermit! The boys are inside shootinâ shit and watchinâ the pre-game show, go take a seat ân introduce yourself.â
I nodded, and headed straight to what I assumed was the living room. Inside were a handful of men about the size of Tom - tall, middle-aged, and with a good size gut. Some looked older, some stockier, but they all seemed like typical, blue-collar workers. They were dressed the same as Tom, and supporting their favorite team, by the looks of their jerseys they had on. I suddenly felt a little stiffer in my casual business dress wear - I stuck out like a sore thumb in my dark khakis and dress shirt. Still, the boys paid it no mind, and introduced themselves one by one. There was Ben, who worked on a nearby farm as a farmhand, Bob, who helped co-host the party and seemed to be Tomâs roommate, and Jerry, the owner of a mechanicâs shop off of downtown. Lastly there was Stew, who apparently worked as one of the cityâs trash men. He was massive â well over 6 and a half feet, and weighing probably upwards of 400 pounds, with very little of it muscle. He also seemed dumb as a sack of potatoes â I almost pitied him. The rest of the guys seemed okay though, and within a few minutes, they were all hootinâ and hollerin, and treating me like a brother. When it came time to sit down on Their huge sofa, I was unfortunately stuck between Jerry and Stew (who had an unusual scent emanating off of him), their bellies pooled slightly onto my lap, and their love handles providing an arm rest which I awkwardly used, not sure where else to place them.Â
âSo, can I grab ya a beer, bud?â Bob offered.
I politely declined. âNah, Iâm not much a beer drinker. Thanks though.â
âNonsense!â Tom shouted from the kitchen, bringing up a 6-pack for us all to share. âLetâs all chug one to commemorate Howie cominâ out and watchinâ the big game with us!â I quietly refuted that my name was Howard, not Howie, but nobody heard my over the loud laughs and cheers from the rest of the boys as they each caught their beer and popped it open. I followed their lead and sucked the foam out of the top, coughing slightly - the stuff was bitter, more bitter than I can remember any beer ever being.
âTo our new friend!â All the boys raised their can, and I followed suit, then brought it to my lips, tipped back, and chugged. I felt like I had something to prove to these gruff gentleman, so I took it like a man, feeling the cold drink burn as it went down my throat. It wasnât until I finished the entire can that I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I stood up, sputtered, then bent over and coughed, my eyes watering. Tom came up and patted my back. âAtta boy, Howie. Sorry, we tend to stick to our stronger beers - hope you wonât mind.â He gave me a wink and a nudge. I nodded, feeling a bit better, and wiped my eyes. I didnât even notice my heart flutter from the wink the big man gave me, or the twitch of my cock as he rubbed my back a bit longer than most new friends would.
I sat back in my spot between Jerry and Stew, not caring quite as much about how confined I felt between the two mountains of men. It was almost comfy to lean into the two of them and their huge bellies, comforting to feel them pool over my lap like a blanket. And the two of them payed it no mind, either. Tom brought us all another handful of beers, placing two in front of me - just in case I wanted to keep drinking. I decided to crack one open, and sip on it slightly, listening to the men argue about their favorite teamâs stats and who was going to win the game. The discussion was getting pretty heated (by the tone of their voices), but I was too entranced by the way their bellies jiggled to notice really what theyâre talking about, or really take part in their conversation.
âAhem, Howie, Iâll ask you again, whatâs yer favorite team?â Jerry nudged me, getting my attention.
âOh, UhâŠ. I donât knowâŠ. San Francisco? The 69ers?â I was from San Fran, so it felt like the most obvious choice.
The boys let out a guffaw. âThatâs the 49ers, numb nuts.â Tom gave me a wink. âWhy ainâtcha wearinâ their jersey, then?â
I just shrugged my shoulders. âI donât own one, honestlyâŠ.â I blushed, feeling a little ashamed.
âWell there ainât no shame in that, I think Benâs got a spare in his room, nâ he wouldnât mind sharinâ, would you Ben?â Ben said that he certainly wouldnât, and took off down the hall, coming back with a crimson red jersey with the number 40 in pearly white (save for a stain or two), although it certainly it was too big for my measely frame. âTake yer stiffneck shirt off and put this on, Iâm sure youâll be more comfortable.â I did as I was told, not even concerned that all the men could see my chiseled young body as I switched shirts. The jersey hung limply off my frame, but I felt better - more accepted by the fellas.
Finally kickoff had started, and the hootinâ and hollerinâ kept going. I drank more and more of my beer as the game progressed, eventually surpassing the two I was given and moving on to a third, then a fourth. I got drunk enough that I tried to eventually join in on the conversation, but everytime I tried to contribute the boys laughed. âGod Howie, you sure are thick ainâtcha? Maybe you should just sit back and let the intelligent guys talk.â They would say. I felt a little ashamed, and a little angry - I knew more important things, like how to manage a staff team or read a graph and do somethinâ with⊠products, or somethinâ. It was getting harder to think, my senses were getting duller. I sunk further and further into the couch, spreading out and relaxing between the two men. I notice they were touching more of me - their bellies now touched my own stomach, I could feel. Their arms came to rest on my sides now, their ham like appendages covering my thighs.
By halftime, I was pretty damned buzzed, and feeling good. The fellas werenât really paying much attention to the show - and, even though the halftime used to be my favorite part, neither did I. Instead, they all went to the kitchen. I tried to follow their lead, but after being pinned down by Jerry and Stew, it was pretty hard to stand up. Tom offered to help me up. But it ended up taking him and Ben both tugging at my big olâ arms to get my lazy ass off the couch.
As I stood up, I felt something pretty unusual. My weight shifted downward, and I felt a soft tug at my chest, stomach, and ass. I looked down, and patted my stomach, which jutted forward and rested over my belt line. Man, I must be gassy - I let out a large burp, hoping my belly would sink a little bit, bit not overly surprised when all it did was jiggle.Â
âDamn son, nice one!â Tom followed up with his own thunderous burp, right in my face - I could smell the beer and cheese dip on his breath. I felt the pressure on my waistline increase, as my cock stiffened against my dress pants. âHey, those look a little tight, let me help you with that.â Tom offered. I silently prayed that he didnât feel my rock hard cock as he fumbled with my belt, and unbuttoned my shorts. âThere, much better.â My dress pants dropped to the floor, revealing my briefs underneath â or what you could see underneath the huge crimson-red jersey which barely contained my gut. âNow then, howâsa âbout you join me ân the boys for a few drinkinâ games?â I felt a small pressure on my cock, Tomâs thick arm still extended out underneath my belly and groping my raging hard on.
If I wasnât interested, I was far too embarrassed to say so. I just nodded dumbly, following Tommy to the kitchen where the boys had already cracked open another ice cold brew for us.
15 Minutes and a few beers later, I was approaching a pretty good buzz. Me ân Ben were sitting off chatting â well, he was talking, I was mostly listening. âDig the hair, man. We all have to go bald sometime, but itâs so much better to be a man about it, and embrace it, then continue to live a lie, yâknow?â I looked at him quizzically â I always had a gorgeous full head of hair, one that I payed my barber good money to keep looking good. Sure, maybe I hadnât seen a barber in a while, but no way was I going bald, and I told him so. But he only laughed. âOh is that so? Lookinâ pretty bald to me, buddy.â He rubbed his hand across my scalp, and to my surprise I felt, well, nothing. His rough hand graced over the shavings on the side of my head and rested on my smooth dome. âLooks good though, eh? And I like your tattoos too. I got a couple in my younger years as well â is that a bear?â Again, I had no idea what he was talking about, and looked at him stupidly. âGod Howie, you sure are slow, ainâtcha?â He tugged up my right sleeve and I looked down at my ham-like appendage. I had a barbwire, like I remember getting for my 18th birthday â it was the âinâ thing to do at my high school, and after that I was too embarrassed to get any more. Above that though, was something that, even in my inebriated state, I thought was unusual. I had never gotten a bear tattoo, have I?
âNo worries man, Iâm in the same club.â He hiked up his shorts to exhibit a bear claw in brown, white, and black stripes, although it was fairly faded. âWe consider ourselves pretty open here, and more than a âlil accommodating, if you catch my drift.â He gave me a wink, but before I could ask what exactly he meant, and why I felt so off, Tom had called us all to the center table. âAlrighty boys, one last game before we watch the next half â and Howie, buckle up, âcuz this oneâs a doosie. Weâre gonna see who can chug the most of these fuckers before bitchinâ out. If you donât wanâ ter play, I understandâŠ.â
Tommy looked at me, and I squinted my eyes, trying to comprehend what he was saying - it seemed like he was going so fast, faster than I could handle. I felt sluggish â more so then I usually am when I drink, both in body, and mind. Once I finally comprehended what he was saying, though, I heavily refuted. âNo! No, Iâm goodâŠ.â I stammered out, a bit surprised at how deep my voice was, with an almost southern accent. For whatever reason, I didnât want to upset Tommy. Consequently, his face lit up, and explained the rules, which he then explained in a way that I could understand: drink as much as I could without stopping. Finally, something I was good at!
After each of us had ten beers by our side (Ben helped me count mine â for whatever reason, I couldnât get passed 6), we all popped our tops off, and Tommy began the countdown. On Go, me ân the fellas three our beers back, and chugged. The first one went down easy for all of us, then began the second. I was a close second behind Stew, who was happily chugging along. I felt a warmth build up in my belly, and felt the fabric shift up my gut on the third one. I didnât want to stop though, so I kept tugging my shirt down, and then eventually pinned it to my side, trying not to give the guys a flash full of belly. By the fifth beer, it was too much â I felt my shirt stretch as wide as it would go, and my belly flopped onto my lap audibly. I was a tad embarrassed â but too competitive to stop now, so I moved onto my 6th. I felt the golden liquid drip down my mustache and onto my second chin, glistening the fu-man-chu I had spent several years trimming to perfect. I had long since closed my eyes, but if I wouldnât have, I wouldâve noticed all the guys, who had stopped drinking at around the third beer, instead watching my transformation.
By the time I reached my 9th beer, I had lost all cares in the world â about my tattoos, my bald head, my mustache, or my huge belly. In fact, I was damn proud to show my brothers who I was â a real man, a manâs man â even, in some ways a pig. Yeah, thatâs what I was, a big olâ pig. I began to rub my gut, feeling my jersey ride higher, now more of a bra for my sagging tits than anything. I was their pig, their big olâ slob of a pig friend.
Finally, the last beer passed down my mouth and down my gullet with ease. I opened my eyes to my new friends, who were cheering and hollerinâ at my achievement. âWow, 10 beers in under 3 minutes â thatâs a new record, boys!â To my surprise, I didnât feel sick. I just felt, well, slow, and lethargic. But that wasnât anything new â Iâve always been such a big lazy slob, and a fuckinâ dunce, too. I grinned stupidly at them my tiny cock rock hard underneath my big olâ gut.
âWell boys, howâsa âbout we head back to the couch, then feed our new piggy his prize?â Tom leered at me, an almost sinister look in his eyes â a look that made my heart, under all that saggy fat, flutter like a schoolgirl. Yeah, we all returned to watch the game â and I was hootinâ and hollerinâ just as loud as my boys, even if I am dumberân a sack of bricks. The real treats were during the commercial breaks, though, when I used my dumb pig mouth and expert cock-sucking skills to get each of âem to cum, several times over.
God, I was so blessed. Good food, good beer, ân good company â the best things in the world. Oh, and football, too.
Over the past few years, his life had slowed down in ways he never expected. Responsibilities changed, priorities shifted, and the constant pressure to be busy faded. With that change came new routines: longer evenings at home, meals enjoyed without hurry, and a growing appreciation for comfort and stability.
During that time, his weight increased steadily. What began as small changes eventually became undeniable. He grew heavier, his body broader and softer, until he was clearly obese. Instead of feeling distressed, he felt something unexpected â ease. His body no longer felt like something he had to fight or control.
He noticed that he moved through the world with more patience. He chose clothes that felt good rather than ones meant to impress. He sat, stood, and lived in a way that felt natural to him. His reflection changed, but his sense of self became calmer and more grounded.
For him, his size was not a problem to solve. It was simply part of who he had become. He felt comfortable in his body, at peace with it, and content with the life he was living. That sense of acceptance mattered far more to him than any number on a scale.
Welcome to the Table of Contents for Gainer Stories. This is the full Tumblr archive of my original gay erotica featuring feeders, gainers, weight gain, and transformation. Just click on the hyperlink to read.Â
I also have posted over 100 stories over on Patreon. Hope you enjoy :)
Mr. Cook (8 chapters)
The first weight gain story I ever wrote. Inspired by true fantasies, this one follows a love lorn student and the object of his affection, the growing English teacher Mr. Cook.
Bed & Breakfast (7 chapters)
Alex is a fledgling gainer who gets the vacation of a lifetime when he checks into the Little Brick Inn. There, he encounters a plumped up guest, Ryan Cook (from Mr. Cook), and Scott, an eager chef at the Inn. Between the three of them, Alex finally unleashes his inner gainer under the sweltering Mississippi sun.
Thanksgiving Delight (2 chapters)
Perhaps one of my favorite stories from the archive, âThanksgiving Delightâ follows Graham, a fledgling gainer, navigating the fattening holiday back home from university. Graham encounters more temptations than just the food when he meets his motherâs new bear of a boyfriend. Will he be able to resist?
Winter Weight Gain (single chapter)
My most popular story on Tumblr!
A former college twink finally chases his fantasy of getting fat and holiday indulgence turns his dream into reality. With the encouragement of his hefty boyfriend Liam and a gluttonous family spread, he packs on over forty pounds in just two months.
Mile Wide Club (single chapter)
Graham (from Thanksgiving Delight) hates flying. That is, until a 400 pound hunk (Mr. Cook) squeezes into the seat beside him. Ryanâs belly spills over the armrests, his backpack is stuffed with candy bars, and before long, their conversation turns flirtatious. What begins as nervous small talk at 30,000 feet escalates into something much steamier as Graham gets more than he bargained for.
The Biggest Boss (9 chapters)
Tim is an eager gainer and encourager who canât help but notice his stern boss has a soft spot for junk food. The two develop a rapport, but Tim is drawn in other directions. He studies abroad and falls into an intense feeder threesome with some Italians. When he returns home fatter than ever he applies to his old job and reignites something intimate with his former boss.
Dadbod (7 chapters)
The Dad next door is outside throwing back beer and rubbing his starter belly. You canât help but spy on him through your window, occasionally stroking your hard on. The next day he invites you to a barbecue, only his wife and children are nowhere to be seen. A heavy sexual tension hangs in the air. You can hardly fathom whatâs about to unfoldâŠ
Ex-Jock (5 chapters)
Calvin is a ripped jock from a small town who yearns to escape to the big city. However, once he makes it to Seattle, the demands of city life begin to have an effect on his physique. After a roller coaster of jobs and romances that leave his waistline bulging, his days as a jock are left in the dust.
Park Paunch (single chapter)
Ever had lunch break turn into the hottest part of your day? For Darius, a plate of greasy noodles and a glimpse of a cute, chubby blond in the park quickly spiral into something much more. Ivan is just Dariusâ type, and when the two finally meet sparks fly and things escalate quickly. Who knew a midday meal could become such a feast?
Chubbies (11 chapters, community story)
Gabe bit off more than he could chew when he signed up to work at the sandwich shop âChubbies.â He canât resist the delectable offerings and begins to rapidly stack on weight. Things get further complicated by an eager coworker and a charming but elusive customer, and before he knows it heâs trapped in an indulgent love triangle.
Bubble Butt (single chapter)
Cliff was far too preppy to catch my eye⊠until his curves and confidence stopped me in my tracks. Tight shorts, a clinging tank, and a plump, juicy bubble had my jaw on the floor. Watching him devour cocktails and pizza only stoked the desire until I finally caught up to him in the bathroom. What happened next was one for the books.
Some Twinks Like Twinkies (4 chapters)
You canât remain a twink forever. At least not for Dylan, who quickly discovers that his spiraling appetite has repercussions on his waistline. It doesnât help that heâs living with his boyfriend, Andrew, who is encouraging things along. What will it take before Dylanâs twinkhood vanishes entirely?
Holiday Heft (5 chapters)
Starting with Halloween and culminating in a New Yearâs cabin retreat, each chapter chronicles one manâs journey as he gives into the winter weight, embraces his swelling body, and deepens his connection with his encouraging partner.
Formerly Fit (single chapter)
Kent was the golden boy in high school who tortured young freshmen like Javi. Years later, Kent, softened by time and weight, reaches out during the holidays. When they reunite in Kentâs past tensions flare alongside lingering desire. Old wounds and messy power dynamics collide, turning their encounter into a charged mix of guilt, longing, and forbidden desire.
Full House (10 Chapters)
Full House follows the story of Jared, from Some Twinks Like Twinkies, and his new roommate Anthony. Jared is an experienced gainer who has put on a solid gut thanks to his office job and encourager ex-boyfriend. Anthony is a health nut, balancing multiple jobs as a gym instructor and bicycle courier. As the two become close, their radically different diets and lifestyles become all the more apparent.
Fatspirational (7 chapters)
A young man decides to finally give in to his cravings. From constant snacking to decadent feasts, each bite pushes him over the edge of obesity. Along the way, he discovers the thrill of being watched, the playful teasing of admirers, and the intoxicating confidence that comes from embracing every inch of himself.
Muffin Tops (9 chapters, community story)
Sparks fly when hunky lifeguard Diego meets Hayden, a pasty chef at the local bakery. Between taste testing Haydenâs treats and finishing up his degree, Diegoâs chiseled physique begins to soften at a surprising pace. Although Diego struggles with the weight gain, the two men continue to grow their waistlines and love for one another. Each chapter is penned by a different writer in the gaining community.
Big Winner (single chapter)
Jordanâs life takes a dramatic turn after he wins $6 million on his 21st birthday during a wild Las Vegas night. Once a dedicated gym-goer with a chiseled physique, he now indulges in a lavish lifestyle filled with partying, fine dining, and spontaneous hookups. As his body softens and his confidence grows, Jordan navigates the complexities of newfound wealth, fleeting relationships, and the allure of excess.
Freshman Fatties (9 chapters)
Dorm room pairings are always a gamble, but Benjamin, a slim business major, and Andy, the schoolâs beefy star quarterback, form an unlikely kinship. As Andyâs weight skyrockets due to stress, cheap food, and boozing, his eating habits begin to rub off on Benjamin. Packing on the freshman fifteen is one thing, but can the boysâ navigate the consequences of their expanding waistlines?
Lifeguard Off Duty (10 chapters, community story)
Bradley, first seen in Muffin Tops, is an ultra fit lifeguard who canât stand fat people. However, once he gets promoted to an office job he begins to face his own battle of the bulge. Surrounded by chubby office mates and secret encouragers, Bradley begins to lose control of his toned physique. How far will he let himself go? This story is a multi-part collaboration between Gainer Stories and Gaining Fiction.
Fatter Exchange Student (12 chapters, community story)
A Greek exchange student lands in the Midwest and dives headfirst into indulgence with late-night snacks, overstuffed dinners, and playful teasing from his hosts, Felix and Bleecker. Heâs showered with affection, food, and encouragement, leading to a transformation thatâs as emotional as it is physical. Each chapter is penned by a different writer in the gaining community.
Professor Plump (single chapter)
After an indulgent summer, Professor Daniels returns to campus with a significantly plumper frame than he is accustomed. He fumbles with tight classroom chairs, is bursting out of his old dress shirt, and struggles with the campus stairs. His new body cannot be contained and itâs secretly driving him wild with arousal.
Wet ân Wide (single chapter)
Logan is a former fitness model with a burgeoning âdad bodâ who is trying to embrace the new trend of soft, cuddly masculinity sweeping Hollywood. At a pool party in West Hollywood, he flaunts his curves, flirts with fellow models, and ends up in a steamy, unexpected encounter with a producer who canât resist Loganâs transformation.
Bear Cabin (single chapter)
Noah, a city-dwelling interior designer, finds himself stranded in a remote cabin after a car accident during a blizzard. He is rescued by Hunter, a rugged and beefy man who lives off the grid. Snowed in for months, Noah becomes accustomed to Hunterâs hearty meals and laid-back lifestyle. As the winter progresses, Noah swells in size and develops an appreciation for Hunterâs rustic way of life.
Lifetime Supply (11 chapters, community story)
Ryan is a college student who wins a lifetime supply of snacks from the corporation Adesco. Initially, the constant snacking is a novelty, but it quickly becomes a lifestyle. As Ryanâs weight increases, he realizes that everyone around him seems to be encouraging his transformation, from his roommate to his hookups to Adesco itself. This story is a multi-part collaboration between Gainer Stories and Gaining Fiction.
The Bakerâs Dozen (single chapter)
Remember Adrian from Muffin Tops and Lifeguard Off-Duty? He was the new cashier at the bakery who wasnât that great at his job, but Hayden and Diego kept him around because he was getting so thick. Well, the holidays have arrived and Adrianâs growth is not slowing down. Under the supervision of hunky head-baker Liam, Adrian joins the baking team and finds himself eating non-stop. Meanwhile, he struggles to stay on his A-game lest he incur Liamâs wrath.
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Jack joined the rugby team his best mates were playing in. They always teased him for being the slim one.
Carlos, the team captain always seemed way too big in the eyes of Jack to be able to play rugby. Jack envied him because heâs still quite the handsome lad. 34 years, full head of hair but just a large guy. He always had women flying around him and was even flirting with several men in the canteen.
Jack had some bi-curiosity but never explored that side. One day after the training it was just him and Carlos at the end of the match. The other men went home since it had been a long evening. Probably of to their wives.
As Jack walks into the shower room he sees Carlos walking butt naked. Jack is shocked and stands still. As Carlos leathers him up with some body wash, Jacks heart starts to pound more and more. He canât believe heâs looking at one of his best friend while he lifts up every layer of fat.
Carlos turns around and greets Jack. âYou guys seem to be quite happy to see me! he shouts.
âYou guys? Iâm aloneâ.
âI mean look down, someone else is happy to see men too!â
Jack looks down and notices his penis became fully erected. He steps back in shock.
âNothing to worry about, every one gets a boner in a while. While youâre at it, can you hand me over the burrito, handsomeâ
Jack is confused. Both by how Carlos played it off and how heâs eating in the shower
âIn order to become a real good player you got to keep up with your calorie intake manâ. Carlos says as he munches down. Jack is slightly confused. âHere have a bite, I know you want to get bigger too. Out of politeness Jack takes a bite. As he eats the last part, Carlos also gets a boner but itâs hardly visible. Yet the head of his penis starts to appear through the fat folds. âYou know weâre both single guys, never had a girlfriend or wife, I know you like the look of this. Every inch of me â Carlos says.
Jacks heart starts pounding more and more. He doesnât know what to say. Carlos might be right. He looks even better butt nakedness
âTo get as good and big as me, be like meâ. As the last word gets out of Carlos mout, Jack quickly and impulsively grabs Carlos â fat pad to make room to grab his tiny dick.
âTurn aroundâ Carlos mutters. Jack follows accordingly. As he turns around he gets dizzy and adjusts himself to the floor to bend over. âHold on a moment, I think Iâm readyâ Jack says.
As the shower water ripples over both men, Jack feels a warm push of fat against his back and feels Carlosâ boner slide into him. With every thrust, he gets more and more relaxed. âGood boyâ Carlos says. âNow the real hazing startsâ. As Carlos moves back and forth, both of them climaxe and ejaculate in just a few minutes.
âYou know, everysince joining this club Iâve been taking these vitamin shotsâ Carlos says. âTheyâre basically helping you to get stronger. As Jack quickly moves away his eyes, because heâs in disbelieve of what just happens, He feels his belly pushing out. âSee thatâs the start. The vitamins also transfer through sexual contact. Itâs just a matter of hours till youâre as big as me, maybe just even biggerâ.
Jack is half absent with his mind as he canât believe what just happened. Everything he wanted with Carlos just happened in a matter of minutes. âThank you Carlosâ.
Suddenly jacks body starts expending by the minute. As theyâre drying off he put on about 200lbs of fat.
âHave a look in the mirrorâ Carlos says. Jack is in awe, he quickly sees his body achieving Superchub status. âMan, whatâs happening to meâ Jack shouts in panicâ
âJust a few more minutes and youâre the best player of our teamâ Carlos reacts jokingly.
Feeders are hot and all but so are âbad influencesâ and enablers. Big fat superchubs that are so ingrained in their gluttonous, hedonistic lifestyle of obesity that they canât help but rub it off on anyone who happens to end up in their presence for any real amount of time. Theyâll have you over just to game and order pizza and get high, maybe theyâll just order an extra pizza just to leave out for you to subtly coax you into indulging, and with a little more weed and nudging youâll be wolfing it down before you know it.
Soon this one-off hangout becomes a regular weekly routine, then bi-weekly, then 3 or 4 nights a week, because youâd rather hang out with your fat foodie buddy and get high than waste time at the gym - and heâd much rather prefer that you did that as well. In fact, although he doesnât say it, every gym session you skip gets rewarded with an extra pizza and tub of ice cream. This routine starts taking its toll on your body but your fat bud doesnât mind. Heâs started reaching out and rubbing your rapidly expanding belly lately, and you canât help but return the favour. Heâs giving you his old 4XL tank tops and sweatpants to wear since youâre getting too big for your own lately, and these are much more comfy for your widening ass.
And then, before you know it, youâre over there every night, getting high, shoving greasy burgers and pizzas and fries into your flab-filled face, outgrowing all your clothes before you even have a chance to wear them in for long, and now youâre making out with your massively obese friend who enabled you to get this fucking fat, while he plays with your tits and gets you grunting like a genuine pig. You need to be over there regularly anyway - the fatpad heâs pushed on you is now too big and deep for you to be able to reach that buried nub anymore, so you need him to reach in and help you finish.
You move out of your old place, which you pretty much never spend any time at anymore anyway, and move in with your new superchub boyfriend. Now the only place he lets your gigantic rump waddle to anymore is between the fridge, the bed, the bathroom and the couch - he takes care of answering the door with your food deliveries. Youâve forgone even the most basic of oversized tank tops and sweatpants and are just lazed out on the couch in the 8XL overstretched fat guy briefs that barely contain your swollen fatpad and oversized fat pig rump.
Heâs pulled you out of the real world and brought you into his hazy, obese, decadent life of hedonism and gluttony, and youâre never getting out. Not that you could ever want to. Who needs a gym and a normal life when you can rub fatpads with the 500lb fat man who quietly made you even fatter than he is.
âHey Adrian, can I talk to you in my office?â Hayden motioned upstairs.
Adrian nervously followed his rotund boss up the stairs that creaked under their collective weight. The young man could feel his skin begin to break a sweat, less from the physical activity and more out of fear of being let go. He knew he wasnât great with customers. Plus, he had miscounted money on more than one occasion and even taken down the wrong order a few times. Being a cashier at such a busy bakery was perhaps not his forte. Still, he desperately needed the income since moving out on his own.
Hayden waddled over to one of his reinforced office chairs and plopped down with a sigh. Hayden was a very large man that resembled a cartoon rendering of a baker. His pale skin was soft and fluffy as dough, often flushed pink. Rounded cheeks connected to a pooling double chin that covered the neck opening of his bakers uniform. Adrian felt small in comparison, despite the weight heâd gained since starting at Muffin Tops. He supposed everyone felt small next to Hayden.
âSo Adrian,â Hayden continued. âI know you struggle working front of the house. No need to be ashamed. I think your talents might be better suited to working in the kitchen. I notice you like sampling the goods and often have questions about their construction, plus the holiday season is here and we will need all hands on deck. What do you think of that idea?â
âI... uh... yeah, sure I would love to. What does it entail?â
âWell it would technically be a promotion with a small raise and new title. You will shadow head baker Liam for a week, sampling everything he does and learning his technique. When youâre ready, we will turn you loose under strict supervision.â
âWow, I accept. Iâd love that.â
And with that, Adrian was officially a professional baker in training. Feeling radiant, he grabbed a six pack on the way home to his small studio apartment. He planned to celebrate by polishing off some beer and having a gourmet pizza delivered. He relished these small pleasures since his girlfriend moved out a few months ago. Sure, the apartment felt lonely at times, but Adrian enjoyed indulging in beer, take out, and video games without anyone interfering. He had developed a slight paunch since starting at Muffin Tops a few months ago, something his girlfriend detested, and the single life caused his paunch to graduate into a beginner belly. Adrian was fully aware of the weight he was packing on, as his girlfriend would often point it out. He didnât seem to care though. If he was being frank, he was actually kind of enjoying the spare tire.
The next day, Adrian received a kitchen tour from Liam. Liam was a hefty guy, like most of the employees at Muffin Tops. He had a thick Irish accent and dark hair that seemed to sprout all over his body, from his head, to the ferocious moustache and scruff that clung to his face, and all the way down his body. Dense chest hair sprung from the edges of his shirt and his glistening armpits sandwiched between muscled arms were excessively hirsute. He even sported a hairy lower back and ass crack that was only glimpsed when he bent over.
At 6â4â Liam had an imposing frame and probably weighed about 260 pounds. While chubby he wasnât anywhere near as rotund as Hayden or the other owner, Diego. Liam was simply an overgrown and well fed man. In the warmer months he wore a wife beater that left little to the imagination. His belly hung over his waistband with a firmness that lent a masculine air to his persona, complemented by the dense fur that curled out from around the thin tank top. Having been hired in the summer, this was how Adrian first met Liam and as a result Adrian always regarded him with a level of fear and admiration. Being on the shorter side himself, Liam cast an imposing shadow for Adrian.Â
After the tour, Adrian watched as Liam began whipping up a few batches of muffins. When the first dozen came out of the oven Adrianâs mouth watered from the delicious aroma.
âYou hungry, boy?â Liam said
Adrian felt embarrassed by how obviously ravenous he was and only nodded his head.Â
âGood, because at Muffin Tops every dozen pastries is taste tested to ensure quality. And until you get the hang of things youâre going to be my little taste tester. So go ahead, grab one.â
Adrian grabbed a warm chocolate chip muffin from the tray and bit into it. It was as delicious and high quality as everything served at Muffin Tops. Adrian polished off the chocolate muffin and before he knew it there were fresh blueberry ones, and then scones, and then cupcakes, and then tarts, and then cake. By the time it was his lunch break Adrian was stuffed with so many sweets that he was developing a headache from the sugar. He was far from hungry, but he still had lunch to keep him chugging through the day. By the time the bakery closed, Adrian felt nauseatingly full. He couldnât imagine keeping this up and wanted to protest the constant sampling but was afraid of Liamâs reaction. Besides, if the other bakers could do it so could he.Â
After a few weeks of shadowing Liam and sampling his wares Adrian had developed a larger capacity and tolerance for consuming so many sweets. He also packed on a solid ten or so pounds around his waist and ass. The weight was really beginning to show as his belly rounded out on his shorter frame. The pudge at his navel was turning into a gut that sloped out from under his chest. Meanwhile his ass became two globs of fat that wobbled noticeably as he walked, barely contained by any of his pants. You are what you eat, and Adrian was a muffin top.
âYouâll be sampling your own creations now,â Liam said proudly as he pushed his plump baby bird out of the nest. âYouâve gotten a taste for how it should be so youâll know when you make a mistake now.âÂ
Adrian was nervous to begin working independently. Nevertheless, he charged forward full speed ahead. His first several batches were actually a success and by the end of the day he felt accomplished. As Adrian was packing up to head home, he accidentally dropped his keys between the trash compactor and freezer. Turning sideways, he attempted to slide between the two machines and pick them up, but quickly learned he was far too chubby to fit.Â
âThatâs cute you think youâd fit in there,â a voice said.Â
Adrian turned around to see Liam watching him with his icy blue eyes. Adrian blushed, âItâs all this sampling we have to do. Iâm swelling up like the rest of you guys.â
âThatâs how Hayden and Diego like it,â Liam grinned and looked Adrian up and down. âWe call it the bakerâs dozen- those first twelve pounds you pack on when you start baking. Itâs not the worst thing. Besides, itâs only November 1st, just wait until later in the month when business picks up. You wonât know what hit ya.â
Adrian struggled to bend over and grabbed his keys. With each step out of the kitchen he could sense Liamâs strong gaze from behind, stirring a sense of anxiety deep within Adrian. Was Liam judging his weight? He hoped he hadnât made a fool of himself. All Adrian desired was approval from the head baker.Â
Sure enough, business noticeably picked up the first three weeks of November. Everyoneâs shifts were extended and some bakers, including Adrian, were picking up extra days. Adrian found the extra work pleasurable, as it kept him busy and his tummy full. Naturally, as Liam prophesied, Adrian continued to gain weight.Â
At this point, all of Adrianâs T-shirts were clinging to his hefty body and barely managed to cover him up. This didnât matter much, as he wore an apron in the kitchen that concealed the tender flesh that was exposed whenever he reached for something or bent over. Outside of work Adrian wore his favorite sweater that used to be oversized but now fit him perfectly. He figured he could get some new T-shirts come spring, but for now he was enjoying his curvier figure and ill-fitting clothes.Â
The extra weight was particularly comforting as the cold weather drifted in. Adrian felt an unfamiliar desire to constantly eat and sleep whenever he wasnât working. It was though hibernation was nearing and his body yearned for excess blubber to keep him warm. He found the extra fat piling up under his skin to be insulating and cozy as a warm blanket. The weight felt like a soft hug to himself, especially when he slept. In the last few weeks he developed a deep appreciation for crawling under the crisp sheets of his bed after a long day of work and cuddling up to his doughy self. Â
It was one week until Thanksgiving and the owners of Muffin Tops, Hayden and his husband Diego, addressed the employees at a team meeting. Hayden looked how he always did, like an oozing marshmallow with limbs. He was as fat and fluffy as any trustworthy baker should be. Diego, on the other hand, had a strong base of muscle which supported the extra 200 or so pounds of fat compacted onto his frame. Looking at them side by side it was hard not to wonder how the two massive men managed to make love.Â
The meeting went as expected with the bosses extolling a lame âgo teamâ pep talk during one of their busiest times of the year. It was clarified that the experienced bakers would be working on custom orders while everyone else focused on churning out the greatest hits at a high volume. Adrian mentally prepared himself for a demanding day as the employees dispersed.Â
On his way to the kitchen Adrianâs stomach began to growl. He was surprised considering the large breakfast he had eaten, but knew he could look forward to sampling his batches. As the day wore on Adrian began to feel out of sorts. First off, the kitchen was overstaffed which only made the temperature even hotter with all the ovens going. As a result, everyone was sweating, especially Adrian. He quickly learned that with extra padding comes extra sweating as his clothes became soaked.
Frustratingly, his shirt was perpetually riding up and eventually he just gave up on pulling it down. At the very least, it provided a bit of ventilation for his underbelly. To make matters worse, the interior of his thighs were on fire and his belly was itching like crazy. These were both novel sensations to the young gainer, making him wonder if heat stroke or a heart attack was imminent. Still, he pressed on.Â
By the time Adrian arrived home he was exhausted. His legs felt weak, his hair was soaked with sweat, and his thighs were on fire. The first thing he did was strip naked and look in the mirror. Sure enough, the inside of his thighs were bright red. He touched them tenderly and realized it was a simple case of chub rub. Next, he lifted up his shirt and was shocked by what he saw. The itchiness was born from bright red stretch marks surrounding his belly button. All of this discomfort was due to his weight. Briefly concerned, his stomach growled and Adrian was once again struck by the desire to stuff himself silly before drifting off to sleep.Â
The rest of the week proceeded with the same level of discomfort and fatigue. While his fat felt luscious and cozy at home it weighed him down in the kitchen, literally. Two days out from Thanksgiving and Adrian was struggling to keep his pace up. Consequently, he accidentally ruined a batch of pumpkin muffins. Liam watched disapprovingly as Adrian dumped the muffins into the garbage and started over. Pressure was already high due to the incoming holiday and Liamâs judgmental gaze had Adrian on edge.Â
To make up time, Adrian blasted through several more batches without taste testing them. Little did he know that Liamâs watchful eye caught everything and towards the end of the day Liam sampled one of Adrianâs muffins.Â
âYou didnât sample this did you?â Liam aggressively queried.
Adrianâs heart dropped as he turned around to face Liam. The Irishman stood inches away. His massive biceps were pumped up from working all day and glistened with sweat. Large wet marks circled his chest and underarms as his belly heaved with heavy breathing. Liam held stern eye contact as beads of sweat fell from his brow.
âI...â Adrianâs mouth was dry with fear. âI did not, no.âÂ
Almost everyone had left for the day, except Hayden who watched silently from across the room. This only heightened the intensity of the situation for Adrian.Â
âI can tell. What do you have to say?â Liam demanded and took a step closer so that his belly was touching Adrianâs chest.Â
âI guess I was rushing, Iâm sorry.âÂ
âRushing? A fat little pud like you rushing? Seemed to be moving pretty slow to me. What do you think is a good punishment boy?â
âI can stay late and make up for all the mistakes.âÂ
âNo, that wonât do. I think you should eat all the mistakes. Thereâs what, three, four dozen pastries here you ruined? You need to consume every single one so you know what you did wrong. Youâre a big boy after all, you can handle it.â
Liam placed a muffin against Adrianâs mouth, âEat.â
Adrian held the muffin in his hands and took a bite. His skin was bright red with humiliation. Hayden continued rolling out dough in the corner watching the scene unfold.Â
âFaster. You have a lot to get through here. Faster, piggy.âÂ
Adrian picked up the pace. After six pastries he was beginning to enjoy himself and lost track of what Liam was doing. Indeed, they werenât the best, but the sweetness was intoxicating to Adrian who crammed one after another into his mouth. The desire to be overfed was once again stirring within Adrian and Liam pushed the remaining pastries off the counter and onto the ground.Â
âGo on, faster!â
Adrian fell to his hands and knees and shoveled the pastries into his mouth. The position caused the elastic band on his pants to sag generously low, revealing Adrianâs fleshy and glistening rear. With his shirt already riding up past his love handles, Adrian was already half naked. Liam rubbed the growing erection in his denim and slid a chocolate cake in front of Adrian.Â
âBut, I didnât make this,â Adrian garbled with his mouth full.Â
With one large hand, Liam shoved Adrianâs face into the cake. Adrian knew what to do. He vacuumed up chunks of the delicious cake with glee, finding himself strangely aroused by the process. By the time Liam ripped down Adrianâs shorts both men were fully erect. Adrian had never had any gay encounters but found himself hungry for Liamâs cock. He arched his back causing his doughy ass cheeks to spread.Â
âFuck,â Liam slapped Adrianâs ass and tightly gripped his massive paws around each cheek, âthat is a fucking rump.âÂ
He jiggled Adrianâs posterior with fervor, his mouth salivating. As Liam began unbuttoning his denim, Hayden left the room. Not surprisingly, Liamâs cock was massive. He pulled back his foreskin and thwacked Adrianâs ass fat with his dick. It bounced back from the gelatinous cheeks leaving a string of precum behind. Liam repeated this move a few more times spurring Adrian to eat the cake even more ferociously while hiking his ass up in desperation.Â
Adrian yearned to be fucked. To be filled from both ends. He wanted to feel completely stuffed and gooey from the inside out. Rational thought left his mind as desire, lust, and gluttony clouded his head.Â
With the help of some nearby vegetable oil Liam began inching his cock inside the hungry piggy. Adrian groaned in pain and pleasure. Liamâs shaft was a lot to handle and the deeper he plunged the more Adrian yelped.Â
âThatâs right, squeal for me piggy,â Liam grunted as he shoved the last inch of cock inside Adrian, causing Adrianâs face to plop back into the remaining cake. âKeep on eating that cake while I pound yours.â
As Liam continued thrusting, Adrian grunted and groaned with mouthfuls of chocolate cake. At this point Adrianâs entire face was encrusted with chocolate and sugar and fudge. As Liam picked up pace, he would slap Adrianâs ass and watch the waves of fat undulate beneath him. Adrianâs body turned to liquid with each smack, wobbling and slapping like a water balloon about to burst.Â
Liamâs own tank of a belly sloshed and bounced while they fucked. Occasionally Liam would swipe a handful of the sweat from beneath his overhang and stuff it in Adrianâs face, letting the pig know full well who was fucking him. Adrianâs moaning became near-constant as Liamâs huge balls slapped against Adrian's puffy taint with each thrust.Â
Adrianâs body, composed of roll after roll of gooey chub, was now bright red with ecstasy. The cake was nearly finished and Adrianâs cock gushed precum as Liam badgered at the pigâs prostate. Adrian was too weak to reach his cock buried behind layers of chub, otherwise he probably would have orgasmed long ago. Liam bent over, his belly filling Adrianâs back, and patted the bottomâs hanging gut. Taking a handful, Liam squeezed the blubber which forced a belch from Adrianâs lips.Â
âThatâs a good piggy. Are you ready for daddyâs come, huh piggy?â
Adrian nodded and whimpered.Â
âWhatâs that? I canât hear you. Do you want this cream? You wanna be filled up, huh?â
âYes, I want it. Fuck! Fill me up! Please!â
With that Liam plunged deep inside Adrian and unleashed his load. Adrian could feel the giant manâs cock convulse and retract with each generous gob of come it shot out inside of him. Desperate to take his load, Adrian pushed his rump further back on Liamâs cock, swallowing up all that he could so that he felt full. Just as they both thought they were finished, Liam began pumping into Adrian again.Â
Adrianâs yelps reached a fever pitch. After a couple more minutes they were orgasming in unison. Completely hands free, Adrianâs load blasted forward with an immensity he did not know. As the young pig saw stars, Liam tensed and quivered from his second orgasm, his demeanor weakening as Adrianâs ass sucked up his load. Drenched in sweat and exhausted, Liamâs heaping body fell limp and weak atop his prized pig.Â
While Liam had maintained his authority thus far, he now felt completely drained from Adrianâs hungry hole. Adrian, on the other hand, felt newly whole, like a warm cream filled doughnut stuffed to perfection. The two men lay spooning in a puddle on the floor, Liamâs cock still inside Adrian. As they softly cupped one another Liam placed a kiss on Adrianâs shoulder.Â
âWhoa,â Adrian muttered, âthat was wild. This place is wild.âÂ
âIf you thought that was intense,â Liam retorted, âjust wait until December.â
This is you now. A 170 pound 20 year old man. Lean. Fit. Curious. And boy are you hungry.
It starts by obsessing over other menâs weight. You notice every change in menâs bodies. Your father has put on a beer gut. Your college classmates start wearing sweatpants all the time. Their lovehandles pop out in shirts. The skin around their flat stomachs becomes soft and plump. No change in weight is too small or subtle. You notice it. And you want it.Â
You research it. Google âhow to get fat on purpose.â âBest ways to gain weight.â âHighest calorie foods.â âMen who gain weight.â âHow to gain weight fastâ.
Get erect. All this excites you. And you know you need it. One day, the decision is made. You will get fat on purpose. You will force your body to get as big and plump and bloated and chubby and saggy and puffy and fat as you want. It will never be enough but at least it will be something. That day, you overeat intentionally. An extra burger from McDonalds. A pint of Ben and Jerryâs. A six pack of beer. You are stuffed and satisfied and horny. You jerk off that night feeling your bloated gut. You love the sensation. You must do this again and again and again.Â
The first 10 pounds comes easy. You barely need to try. A little here, a little there, eat like a man. Finish an entire large pizza to yourself. Ice cream after. And beer. Your pants get snug. You fill out a little bit. No one notices. But you noticed. And now you realize how much more youâll need to feel anything. This is not enough.Â
190 pounds.Â
No longer thin, but not noticeably fat. Just a little soft. Some call you beefy. Youâve been exploring more ways to gain. Drink a gallon of whole milk a day. You can barely move after. You push your gut out as far as it will go. The pressure is incredible. The liquid sloshes in your belly. Hard to go to the gym this way, so may as well stay home and snack. 34in jeans fit better now. Youâre liking the bloat. Decide to keep it bloated every day. If you can eat until youâre stuffed bloated every day, surely you will gain weight fast. And you do.
200 pounds.Â
These first thirty pounds have happened so easily. Too easily? You donât feel like itâs any different. But it is. You are softer all over. You hate cardio and never jog anymore. Large shirts hug your budding belly. People can see your deepening belly button through your shirt. You always clean your plate, out of habit now. People offer you food, knowing youâll never say no. You are a big guy now. Heâs a beefcake. âhey big guy.â The other guys call you âthiccâ and âmeaty.â But you want more than that. And you will get it.Â
215.
Eggnog chugs. Boost chugs. 12 packs of beer. Mass Gainer. Heavy Cream. Jars of peanut butter. Extra olive oil. You need MORE and you want it now. The next 15 pounds come fast. No amount is too much for you. You film all this now. You want a record of your progress. You pat your chubby ball gut in satisfaction. You find fat in places you didnât realize got fat. That area around your cock is puffy and soft. The side of what once was your muscular pec is now dimpled and flabby. Your inner thighs. Your back. Softer.Â
230.
Your gains are obvious. Itâs been 60 lbs and two years. But college does that to people. Your parents realize your party lifestyle has impacted your diet. Youâre not a high school jock anymore, but hey, why not enjoy college? Youâve graduated and you want help to keep growing. Meet up with a feeder. Heâs older than you. Potbellied. Clearly heâs put on weight himself. He opens the door in his underwear. You are shy. But your gut poking through your large tee and your lovehandles spilling over your jeans are all he needs to see to know youâve been doing plenty of damage to yourself without his help. He intends to fucking destroy you. And he will.
This is when it gets intense. He makes you open the fridge where a gallon tub of ice cream has been melting into a vat of chocolatey goo. You will drink it all and he will make you do it sitting in front of the mirror naked.You gets you high on marijuana and poppers. You step on the scale and realize in erotic satisfaction that you have put on 4 pounds instantly.Â
Your gut has never been more full. You are more erect than you have ever been. You have never felt SO GOOD.
He has you now. Addicted. Welcome to gaining, pig.
250.
 Thereâs no going back now. Your gut is distended and chubby and bloated all the time. And you are PROUD of it. Bright red stretchmarks have erupted across your round, soft, stomach and lovehandles. They remind you of your progress and you love them. You want more. You look like a fat guy now. Your face is puffy and round. You never go to the gym anymore. You canât hide your weight gain in the baggiest of clothes. A double chin has formed so you grow a scraggly beard to cover it. Clothes do not fit you the same. You look⊠disheveled. And you do not care. All you CARE about is getting MORE.Â
You are becoming a proper hog.Your feeder has done some serious damage and you love it. You obey him. You trust him. He wants you fatter, and you oblige. Each session is intense and heâs pushing your limits. The challenge is so erotic, you donât even realize the changes that are occurring. You just know you want more. You are his slob now. A greedy, hungry, gainer. You are transforming. But it is still not enough. You cannot stop now.
270.
You have gained 100 pounds. Or have you? You still look so skinny in the mirror. Youâre pudgy, MAYBE. Definitely not fat. There are way more guys that are fatter than you, and they arenât even trying. You must gain more. Your family is concerned. 100 pounds in five years is a lot. âYou should get back in the gym.â âLay off the beer.â âToo many sweets and fast food.â
This only motivates you more. Youâll show them just how big you can get. Next time they see you, they will be horrified; you will make sure of that.Â
Your feeder is proud of his pig, and you need him more than ever. He pushes you to gorge unrelentlessly. New creative ways to pump you full of calories. Your skin is always tight. Every time you feed, you think, âIâve never been this full.â Yet you crave more. Your cock throbs as you play with your soft underbelly. It sags now over your waistband, no matter what kind of pants you wear. Your ass cheeks are soft and dimpled. Your lovehandles are embarrassingly wide. People look at you funny. When you eat in public, people are grossed out.Â
300.
You run into an old college classmate who has himself gained weight. He barely recognizes you with the double chin and the beard and the waddle. You converse. He says âI guess we all put on a little weight after collegeâ as he pats your soft, flabby belly just above your navel. This excites you. But you play it off. âYeah work keeps me busy. No time to exercise and I just love trying new restaurants.â
The truth is, you donât care what food tastes like. You will chug anything, stuff anything into your fat face that your feeder tells you to. You are his now. He is the only person you are attractive to now. Too fat for normal men. You are now an acquired taste. Only chubby chasers and encourages want your sweaty, waddling, bloated, curvy body.Â
330.
You are in denial. "Itâs not that much, I think I want another 50 pounds.âÂ
The statement is laughable on its face. You are a blubbery mess of a man. This is what addiction does to you. You canât even realize that 160 pounds of pure lard packed onto your once-thin frame is a lot. Nothing fits you anymore. You are always out of breath. People you used to know do not recognize you. Youâve given up all your hobbies except the only one that matters: Gaining.Â
Gaining is the only thing you want. The only thing you think about. The only thing that gets your cock hard. And you must have more.Â
350.
You film yourself naked eating a pie on all fours. Sniff poppers. Then slam back two pints of melted ice cream. The flavor doesnât matter. It drips out the side of your mouth and over your fat tits. Your nipples are swollen and sensitive. You love having your tits played with. Oink Oink. You reach under your heavy soft overhang and pull it up. Jiggle it for your camera. Burp. Slap your gut.
You masturbate to these videos you film of yourself. You are shocked when you look back at your video at 250 and think âWOW I was so thin back then.â Reality is, 250 was NOT thin. But your perception of what is fat, what is thin, is so distorted by your fetish that itâs completely disconnected from reality.Â
400.
Your feeder laughs and pats your gut as the scale reads 400 for the first time.
You are fatter now than he has ever been.Â
âHow do you feel, pig?â he says, grinning, and with his cock leaking precum in his underwear.Â
âI feel⊠small. Like I need another 50 pounds,â you respond as you rub the soft hanging part of your belly. âAnd Iâm still hungry.â
He loves hearing that. He sits you down in front of the mirror and watches as you drink a Boost VHC. 500 calories a piece.Â
Drink another.
And another.
And another.
2000 calories.Â
âFeel better pig?âÂ
âyes sir.â you respond.Â
As you look in the mirror, you let out a satisfying burp and jiggle your heft. Everything wobbles on you now. What you see back doesnât shock you, but it should.
You think: What have I become? What have I done to myself? Why do I still feel so small?
Then you reach around your massive gut and feel your cock. Itâs buried in fatpad now. And erect. Leaking precum. Your feeder gets on his knees and puts his lips on your cock. and starts slowly sucking off his greedy boy pig. This is your life now. Itâs all youâve ever wanted. And you still want more.Â
Pedro and Daniel just got married and decided to go on a honeymoon trip. Daniel never in his life expected a man like Pedro to hit him up in the first place, let alone end up together on a honeymoon in a great city like Barcelona.
Daniel gained a lot of weight but that didnât stop Pedro. Actually the opposite; Pedroâs multi million business caused Daniel to balloon up.
Daniel is hitting close to 578lbs and is still ivery mobile but needs to rest quite a bit after every apartment block. The rapid weight gain didnât take into account the lack of muscles to support his frame.
âBabe let me take a picture of you, you look really cuteâ Pedro says.
Daniel first refuses. Although Pedro adores every inch of Daniel, he still feels quite insecure sometimes.
âYou can have a little sweet treat after, I promiseâ
The idea of that immediately makes Daniel put up a smile.
As they walk in the donut store Pedro lets Daniel order whatever he wants. His new frame also means Daniel increasingly seeks more stability. Pedro snaps a pic of Daniel taking in an order. As the order continues, Pedro starts to get more and more excited. He envisions how his belly which already canât be covered by these polos to sag even lower.
He already fantasize of where the next layer of lard will pop up. Thereâs nothing that excites Pedro more than seeing Daniel turn into a mount of lard.
As Daniel finishes his order he huffs and puffs.
âI said a little sweet snack, not the whole damn shopâ
Daniel acts surprised and a little annoyed: âwell I ate a few, letâs not exaggerateâ
As he finishes the sentence, the lady of the shop brings the last pile.
âI figured you quite enjoyed them, these are on the houseâ.
Daniel first refuses but the lady places them anyway.
After all, Pedro made the extra order. Theyâre already paid for. Maybe this naivity caused Daniel to balloon up the way he did.
After Daniel finishes Pedro leans in for a kiss. âGood boyâ. Daniel feels every muscle in him tense up.
âLets head back to the hotel, just a quick business call, my handsome boy needs a good massage and all the attentionâ.
They walk out the shop with the same level of being in love as when they first met. Theyâre truly meant for eachother.
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Get used to your clothes feeling tight. You're going to keep outgrowing them, outfit after outfit. Just let all your lard stress the seams and spill out over your waistband...
Get used to not knowing what a "normal" portion looks like. You're going to keep eating at every meal until you're too full to take another bite. Bit by bit, those servings will just keep getting bigger...
Get used to seeing that double-chin in the mirror. And feeling it press against your neck whenever you look down at your growing mass of tummy paunch. It's a sign for everyone you meet, telling them what you have no self-control over your own endless gluttony.
Get used to working up a sweat just by walking upstairs. Hauling that fat ass and all those pounds of blubber with you up so many steps is bound to be exhausting. All that panting, the sweating, the way your heart races and pounds loudly in your ears... That's your reminder that you're supposed to be sedentary instead, not wasting calories on moving.
Get used to letting yourself go.
Get used to being an embarrassing hog in public.
Get used to feeling the softness of all that fat as you're falling asleep at night.
Because it's too late to do anything about it now. You're stuck like this. It's easier if you just accept it. You did this to yourself, after all.
You've completely given in. To further encourage your gains, your partner started rewarding your stuffings with absolutely amazing oral, and the more you eat, the better it seems to feel. The result of their efforts was your appetite snowballing, and now after only two years of being together you've reached a staggering 500 pounds.
Now it's the middle of the night. Your belly is painfully stuffed, glowing with a bit of redness, yet you're digging through the pantry looking for food. The bulbous red ball hanging to your knees doesn't need more food, but you're too horny to follow your own body's limitations. You need to keep eating. You're not full enough to cum yet.
You cram a fistful of mini donuts down your throat. You rip open a box of pizza and throw it in the oven. You go to the fridge and chug down a little heavy cream. Eating more hurts, but you need it.
As the pizza begins to cook, you walk back to the pantry to eat while it finishes. You scarf down a few chips, chug a bit of soda, and have a couple of chocolate eclairs.
*GRRRGG!*
Finally you realize how full you are. It hurts so much, but...
*Ding!*
Your eyes widen with regret. There's no way you're eating that whole pizza, but you can't just leave it there.
"I'll just toss it in the dumpster and tell them I ate it. You think to yourself.
However, as you turn back into the kitchen, you see your partner, bent over and presenting their ass to you as they pull your pizza out of the oven.
"I wasn't expecting you to be sooo hungry tonight. What a good piggy you are.~" they whisper coyly.
You stammer for a moment, trying to think of an excuse, but as they playfully pet your double chin and walk toward the bedroom with the pizza, you are quick to follow.
"Lay down." they command. You listen, and lay back against the headboard of the bed.
You feel a rush of pain and arousal as your partner leans onto your stuffed gut, and holds a slice of pizza to your mouth. You're still so full, yet you accept the slice without question, finishing it off in only 3 bites.
"Ready for another one?"
You groan in pain. You're so full you can barely breathe, but before you can say anything there's another slice in your mouth.
"Wooow, so greedy." they whisper teasingly.
There's hardly any room left for your stomach to breathe. You know another slice might be too much, butâyou are so desperately horny. Every inch of you is burning, begging you to keep going.
"M-more..." you mumble under your breath.
Your partner smiles, reaching under your belly to give you a teaser of your reward.
"How about this? You finish this pizza, and I'll finish you. Deal?"
The next few slices are gone in no time at all, and by the end of it you can't even move. Your partner laughs as they try and fail to sink their finger into your completely packed gut.
"You know, that was nearly twice as many calories as you normally eat. I think that means I'll need to increase how much I'm feeding you. Can't have my poor piggy going hungry.
The pain is nearly unbearable you're so full. You know you're not going to be eating for a while after that.
However, a moment later you feel the warmth of your partner's tongue under your massively bloated belly, and as your thoughts fade into a horny fog, you mutter under your breath.
It's been awhile, hasn't it? I haven't seen you in what? Five years? What's new?
...Aside from your massive weight gain, I mean.
Jesus you look like a pig. You're just huge. Genuinely, I think your gut might weigh more than I do. God, you're hilarious. I hate to be cliche but it looks like you ate the old you, you're so fat. How do you even fit through the door?? How do you function in a body so useless?? Everything must be so hard for you and the only one you can blame is yourself. The amount you'd have to consume to get this big is downright disgusting. How can you live like this? You're so fucking enormous it's almost like you did it on purpose. You can't accidentally get this fat.
...Wait, you're telling me you *did* do it on purpose?? What on earth would possess you to do that?
You're ruined, you have no hope of ever being the size of a normal person again! What the fuck are you going to do?! You're such a fatass, I can't even imagine how you afford to feed yourself! Look at you, that physique must have cost several thousand dollars at least, and you just kept on stuffing yourself. You've eaten all your money away! Hysterical! God, you need help.
Oh? Is that so? You're telling me you essentially exploit yourself on the Internet, gaining weight for fetishists?? That's how you make your money?? Oh my God, it just keeps getting worse!! You had so much potential. What a waste, truly a shame, all you are is a slut for food and attention.
No one's forcing you into this right? You aren't doing it against your will, are you? No!? You've got to be kidding. It makes you feel, good? Sexy, even! Oh my God, you're one of them aren't you? You like it, don't you? You want it as much as the people who pay to fatten you up. You need it, don't you?
Fuck you're pathetic, you should honestly be ashamed... That's part of it isn't it?? You have a shame kink, too? Oh that's so fucking funny, I bet everything I've said has turned you on, hasn't it, fatty?
Awww, are you gonna go home and get off thinking about me? Maybe stuff yourself with a bunch of greasy, cheap, sloppy calories? That's so fucking adorable. You're pathetic. You might as well be a cow... Or a pig... Livestock, regardless. Just fattening yourself up for profit. I feel bad for you, I'd be concerned, but clearly you're enjoying yourself. No one can help you now, you're just a pile of lard. Addicted, and only good for the entertainment of others... But, that's exactly what you want, isn't it?
Jake and Peter were on the rocks. They had been dating for six years and lived together. They were fighting constantly until one fateful day. They broke up. Jake took it very hard and quit his job and moved out. He decided to solo travel and explore the world while Peter figured his life out.Â
(160lbs)
After weeks of meticulously planning from his friendâs couch, Jake boarded his first flight to Spain. Jake spent the first few weeks of his trip exploring, meeting locals, hooking up with strangers in his hostel, and eating the local cuisine. After returning from the beach one day, he noticed he had softened up a lot over the last few weeks. He didnât know where to weigh himself, so he just tried to cut back on his eating⊠He also stopped posting himself on his social media because he was insecure and didnât want Peter to see.Â
(180lbs)
After 4 weeks in Spain, he boarded a flight to Tanzania to do safari tours and see the culture. He loved the food. He saw so many animals he never thought heâd see in the wild and spent weeks in villages with other solo travelers. Â
(200lbs)
His next stop was Fuji. After several flights on different airlines connecting, he made it. Only took 5 days. This was the tropical dream destination he loved. He ate so much food at the resort, and he noticed his clothes had shrunk. He had no idea how much weight he had put on, but between you and me it had only been two and a half months, and he was already 60 pounds heavier. He was in complete denial. This photo was taken on his first day in Fuji⊠just imagine what it was when he left.Â
(220lbs)
His next stop was Patagonia. During his layover in Australia, he turned on his cell service briefly to call his mom and talk to her. Right before he boarded his flight to Argentina, Jake called him. Peter declined it. On his long flight, he felt like the seat was really uncomfortable and blamed the airline for having small seats. He hiked Patagonia and it was hard for him. He spent 4 weeks in South America between Argentina and Chile. This became his new favorite cuisine â you might notice a trend.Â
(240lbs)
His next stop was the South of France. He got to his hostel in Nice and put on his swimsuit. When he was sitting down to apply sunscreen, the suit ripped clean down the middle. He hurried to the local dive shop and picked up a pair of red swim trunks: size XL. He chalked it up to Europeans having different sizing. He spent two weeks in the south before taking a train to Paris. Two weeks had devastating consequences on his weight.Â
(275lbs)
Upon arrival into Paris, he got to his hotel, which he splurged for. He checked his phone to see multiple missed calls from Peter. He called back, and Peter apologized for everything and promised to do better. He told Jake how much he missed him, and Jake who was using food and travel to escape his feelings, folded, and told Peter how much he also missed him. Peter asked to video chat, but Jake knew it was a bad idea, so he lied and said he didnât want to use all his data, and voice called Peter every day for hours. The two began to fall in love again.Â
(300lbs)
Jake spent four weeks in Paris. One day he sent a photo holding of his croissant to Peter.Â
Jake: Attachment: 1 image
Peter: Whose hand is that?
Jake: Mine?
Peter: Why is it so swollen?
Jake: Jk itâs this man from my hostelâs hand.Â
Peter: I was gonna sayâŠ
Jake realized then he was starting to lose control of his appetite.Â
Jake spent a 1-week layover in London, but he wasnât a big fan.Â
(350lbs)
Jake then boarded his flight to Italy. He spent about a month in Rome, calling Peter every single day. He stopped hooking up with the locals and would tell people he had a boyfriend back home. He wanted to see the rest of the world before he went home though, and he discovered his Italian heritage made him have a weak spot for real Italian food. However, he was in denial that the reason everyone could tell he was American was because he was American sized. He still had no idea what he weighed and was blaming his increasing shirt size on the fact he was in European countries that had different standards of sizing.
(390lbs)
Jakeâs next stop was Rio. Once he landed, he went straight to the mall to buy new clothes. His long flight from Europe to South America was awful. He was stuck in the middle seat and spilling over the armrests. He got his phone stolen in Rio and had to get a prepaid phone before he left for Sydney. He didnât remember Peterâs number and couldnât get back into his Instagram, so he had no way to reach him.Â
(410lbs)
Once he landed in Sydney, Jake was running to the first phone store he could find so he could get into his accounts. He messaged Peter on Instagram and let him know what happened and that he couldnât call anymore because he couldnât get his US number to work. This was the moment he was starting to have mobility problems. He had put on two-hundred-fifty pounds in just nine months, and it was catching up to him. His body was not used to carrying around all that weight.Â
(430lbs)
Jakeâs time in Australia was shorter than usual because he wanted to go back to Europe, as it was his favorite. Once he landed in Amsterdam, he started applying to restaurant jobs in Italy for the summer so he could finish out his 18 months abroad with a very extended stay in his favorite place.Â
(450lbs)
On his day layover in London, Jake got his photo taken near Big Ben, and when he compared the photo to the one he had taken just four months ago, thatâs when it hit him: Jake had gotten fat.Â
(480lbs)
Jake landed in Italy and audio called Peter.Â
Peter: Hey sexy.
Jake: I miss you.
Peter: When you come back to LA, will you move back in with me?Â
Jake: I will, but-
Peter: I canât wait to bring you around my friends again.
Jake: Your judgy circuity ones?
Peter: Why does that matter?
Jake: Iâve changed Peter.
Peter: And?
Jake: I just feel like⊠I wonât get along with them.Â
Peter: Oh, because your perspective on the world has changed so much this yearâŠ
Jake: Something like that.
Peter: What?
Jake: Peter, I gained some weight.Â
Peter: Thatâs nothing Equinox canât fix.Â
Jake: Right.
Peter: I have to go, but I miss you and canât wait for the end of the summer when you come back!Â
Jake: Bye.
Peter: --Â
Jake began to panic. He didnât know what to do about his weight. But, he coped with the stress the only way he knew how: the free food he got at his job in Italy.Â
Jake could feel the eyes on him while he tanned at the beach, with his big belly all out for the world to see. Peopleâs jaws would drop, because he was supersized. Jake was still in denial with how much weight he had put on, but he knew it was bad enough.Â
(520lbs)
After a few weeks, Jake took the train from his temporary residence in Amalfi to Milan. Once he sat down, he was accosted by the conductor for not buying two seats. He paid the fine and cried the rest of the way to Milan. He spent a week in his hostel room ordering delivery and depressed because he finally had another fat realization.
(550lbs)
Jake returned to Amalfi and ate his feelings. He missed Peter, but knew Peter would be shocked at his transformation. He was called âAmerican fat boyâ by his coworkers at the restaurant. He was stared at everywhere he went.
(580lbs)
He stayed in for the remaining 2 months of his summer stuffing his face with the food from his restaurant, and when he got to the airport in Milan, he was denied boarding because he didnât buy a second seat. He waddled to the train to the airport hotel, bought himself 2 seats and moped in his room.Â
When Jake returned to the airport the next day, the gate agent understood his frustration, and gave him a row to himself in the back of the flight. Jake sat down in the middle and was startled when he felt his belly press up against the wall. When he landed in LA, Peter texted him asking where he was:
Jake: I just landed.
Peter: Iâm waiting!
Jake: Iâm headed to bag claim.Â
Peter: Me too.
Jake waddled to the escalator, passing Peter who didnât recognize him.Â
Peter: Omg⊠behind this guy youâd laugh at. He looks like heâd make the plane crash he is so fat.Â
Attachment: 1 image.
Jake was looking for his bag and didnât look at his phone to see the message.Â
Peter called Jake, so he picked up.Â
Peter: Where are you?Â
Jake: I have my bag.Â
Peter: Where?
Jake: OhâŠ
Peter: What.Â
Jake: Turn around
Peter: --
Jake: Hey Peter.
Peter: Oh my god Jake.
Jake: I'm sorry.
Peter: I--
Jake: Peter I love you so much, I know this is a lot.
Peter: --
Jake: Yes I will.Â
Peter: Peter ran and hugged Jake and kissed him.
(680lbs)
Jake: Well, we will talk in the car I know.Â
Peter: Jake, what happened to you?Â
Jake: I put on some weight, and then some more, and I lost track.Â
Peter: What happened?
Jake: I was so sad without you; I left the country for a year and a half and ate my feelings. I missed you so much.Â
Peter: I donât recognize you.Â
Jake: I know you proposed to me in the airport, and I know this is not what you wanted.Â
Peter: I donât even care, I missed you so much. I will always love you.Â
Jake: Are you sure?
Peter: How much do you weigh?Â
Jake: Maybe 350lbs?
Peter: HA!
Jake: What.
Peter: How did you even fly back?
Jake: They gave me the entire row.Â
Peter: 350?
Jake: I honestly have no idea. I never bothered to check. I didnât even notice at first.Â
When they arrived back at Peterâs apartment, Jake saw photos on the wall of the two of them together and then caught his reflection in the mirror. He then saw it.Â
Jake then opened his phone up to see the message Peter had sent earlier.Â
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Youâve gotten so fat⊠but its not enough. You want to get fatter. 400 pounds seemed like a lot to you⊠now youâre thinking about fattening up to 800 pounds. Youâre pretty sure by then youâd be immobile, too fat to walk. But that gets you hard. You get off to that. So fat that your thighs become too heavy, pressing against one another as you walk. Your butt is getting pretty fat now, which is making things harder, like sitting comfortably in normal sized chairs or squeezing into small bathrooms. But fuck that, you want it to get bigger, fatter, heavier. The idea that your own butt is too big and heavy gets you hot, but the thought of it aiding in your immobility makes you even hotter. Itâs getting so hard just to get yourself off. Its exhausting isnât it. Pretty soon you wonât be able to reach down there, nor will you be able to touch your belly button. Your belly needs to reach your knees. No⊠past your knees. All the way down to your feet. Which will already be buried in the fat of your two-foot thick thighs. No⊠four-feet thick. Youâll be as wide as a king sized bed. Beyond 800 pounds and beyond immobility. A thousand pounds. Two thousand pounds. You canât move your thighs at all and your arms are almost a hundred pounds each. Your cock is buried so deep in fat that itâll never be touched again. Your fat pad bulges out under your belly, probably weighing close to 80lbs. It keeps growing, burying your cock deeper and deeper and deeper in fat. You want more. So much more. Thousands more. 3,000 pounds. You canât lift up your arms anymore. All you can do is wiggle your fingers and toes around, but even those are becoming swallowed by fat. What one might call your wrists and ankles have swollen over the base of your hands and feet. Fatter, fatter, fatter. 4,000 pounds. No, 5,000. Your hands and feet are gone. Sunken into your fattening body. All you can do is eat and eat while you get fatter and fatter and fatter. Your body hangs off the sides of the bed. The frame snapped a couple hundred pounds ago meaning youâre closer to the ground and your love handles and thighs have reached the floor, spreading across its surface. You struggle to even open your mouth. Your neck and cheeks have grown so massive that they have become too heavy to move. You donât care. You want to get fatter. So much fatter. 6,000 pounds. 7,000? The bed is completely hidden by your fat. You fill half of the room already, but itâs not enough. I think you can get fatter. Say it. Say it, you fucking pig. Fatten me up. Make me fatter. Please, make me so much fatter. Iâm not fat enough. I want to get fatter and fatter and fatter and fatterâŠ
Let me get on my knees between those doughy, roll covered thighs as you recline on the couch. I want to feel the heavy softness of your stuffed belly and fat pad as I struggle to push them out of the way of your cock. I want to hear you gasp as your engorged head is pushed out of its soft, fat swaddled home and feels my wet tongue swirl across it. I want you to groan about how much pressure is on your gut from my pushing your lard out of the way, only to feel it all come plopping down on my head as I let go, making you gasp again.
It's been 100lbs since you've felt this good from your own hands, so I might as well remind you what an orgasm feels like with mine.
I want to hear your desperate moans as my mouth and hands work what's left of your shaft. In 50 more pounds I won't be able to reach it anymore... By myself. Can you imagine being so fat you need two feeders just to unbury your cock? Oh, but just think how much bigger you'll get with two... It'll take a third just to fight all that new fat down to your dick then.
I can hear your pathetic whines now, begging us to try. Snorting, squealing, saying anything that will get us to dig out your little feedee cock and make you feel like the man you used to be before we turned you into a pig.
