Anonymous Fox

Good to know if you want to commission me: Want: hypno, mind control, intelligence play, dumbing down, horning up, body transformation, world change, power imbalance, himbos, muscle gain, weight gain, cock growth, butt growth, personality changes, jocks, twinks, bears, chubs, horrorotica, love

Will: age progression/regression, bondage, impact play, orgasm control, chastity, college, hair, musk, humiliation, leather, lycra, rubber, underwear, oblivious, body swap, feminization, statue, alien, omegaverse, drugs, viruses

Won’t: raceplay, DDLB, filth, scat, piss, farting, actual pregnancy, teen, hard incest, sounding

He knew I was a feeder, and yeah was he drunk, but he said "bet you couldn't fatten me!" as he flexed his arms and abs with no shirt. Like, yeah he's my 'straight roommate', sure. But he said that to my face. He wanted me to start baking on near daily basis, leaving whole trays of treats out warm while only having one for myself before saying I'm full. He wanted me to start cooking pasta Tuesday, curry Thursday (extra butter, always naan), pancake Friday, and even-more-pasta Sunday. He wanted me to watch as his jeans tightened and ripped on his thighs, as he had to leave more buttons undone at the top of his tits, as he desperately tried to insist it was still all muscle, as his abs were swallowed up more and more by his gluttony. He wanted me to do all that because… why else would he say that?

"Why else would you say that dude?" I asked. He had finally confronted me after popping out his XXLs. He was rooooound. Rotund. It was a bit difficult to pay attention to what he was saying, every time he talked the double chin I made shifted, inviting me to bite it.

"I don't even remember saying that bro! I was drunk, I was joking probably!"

"Probably?"

He blushed. So it wasn't quite the direct admission of desire I thought it was, but some part of him wanted it. "No! Fully joking! It was just meant to be a joke! Now look at me!"

"I'm looking."

"God you're practically licking your lips."

I looked at his.

"Bro you've got to stop ok? No more baked stuff, and we're not having beer in the apartment. I'm losing all this. Ok?" He jiggled his belly for emphasis.

I nearly rolled my eyes. I had seen him forcing himself to do cardio. I knew he ordered takeout deliveries to his office. I didn't have to do anything anymore, he was a snowball rolling down a hill. "Yeah sure, whatever you want."

"And I'm not one of your pigs or whatever ok?"

"Of course dude. Sorry I got the wrong impression."

"Well good. We can get back to normal now."

"Yeah, though uh, one question if you don't mind?"

He hesitated. "Yeah?"

"You having any problem reaching your dick nowadays? Because I could help with that. Purely as bros of course." I said.

Johnny was not a fan of this new law. Like of course it was good, ultimately good, to tax food waste. Better for the planet, better for the health of the consumer. But the only reason Johnny took a waiter position at a buffet place over something less strenuous was the free leftovers. He could meet his calorie and protein goals so easy, his half-price bulk had his biceps almost breaking the sleeves of his uniform.

But now that restaurants needed to carefully portion out only the amount they estimated would be eaten, it would have to end. Or it would have, if his extremely cool manager hadn't had an idea. "Let's just eat all the leftovers." It was perfect, Johnny had to go a bit beyond his goal numbers sure, and would have to keep the bulk going indefinitely instead of cutting for the Summer, but it was still obviously worth it.

Johnny did end up busting those sleeves just like he wanted, busted a button too before his new uniform could come in. He got used to cleanup duty fast, and there was such camraderie in him and the guys all stuffing themselves after every lunch and dinner rush he barely noticed that their portions kept getting smaller as his piled higher. No one could quite keep up with Johnny's appetite, and as his coworker's watched him plump up each day they became more wary of just how fattening the food they served was, and shifted more and more over to The Tank. The desserts especially became a Johnny-duty only, they cheered him on as he scooped ice cream right from the tin.

The word daddy? Huge turn off. Calling a guy's pecs his tits? Just comedic to me. Calling my own tits my tits? An uncomfortable thought. The word faggot? Just a slur to my ears.

Chapter 5: Getting Your Fix out now: https://www.gaykinkystories.com/story/show/10012047

My new-ish story "So You Wanna Be a Superhero?" has just been de-anonymised following the end of the "I Woke Up Like This" story contest on gay kinky stories. Read here: https://www.gaykinkystories.com/story/show/10011636

I love all kinds of body transformations, but when it comes to gainers it's always amazing to see when their body decides they aren't just going to be fat, they're gonna be a potbellied fat-boy.

When guys thicken up all over, other people in their life can stay in semi-denial for a while that a man is becoming a pig before their very eyes. They can say: "hey big guy? bulking up?", pretend it's a fitness thing. Plenty of guys look a little better with meat on their bones, they tell themselves, blissfully unaware that man is stuffing himself on the daily.

But there's meat on his bones, and then there's half of a man's body weight all of a sudden hanging all on his front. There's "bulking" and then there's walking in belly first to every room you enter from now on. Constantly looking like you just inhaled an entire keg of beer and a couple extra large pizzas to go with it. Constantly, worryingly, Fat. There's no denying it. Anyone who sees you has to admit you've not only gotten fat, you've become a fat-boy inside and out. They have to picture what you're doing to yourself, the sheer amount of food that you had to greedily gorge on to reach this state.

Harold’s cock is magic and he doesn’t know why. But he has to deal with it anyway, one boy at a time.

Were your thighs always this sensitive? Well, no, it's definitely been some time in the last 15 pounds. You thought maybe, it was just that your pants were too tight. It wasn't the first time you had outgrown your wardrobe, and being squeezed like sausages all day must have made them extra touchy when you got home to your boyfriend. But you sized up, you sized up everything. Your boyfriend insisted you try on every new pair right in front of his eyes. And just getting them over your skin, hopping up and down to slide into them like you need to now, jiggling as you did. All of it made you moan. It wasn't the old pants, the ones that you ripped the seams of at the office. Your thighs are just like that now, and your moans are higher pitched now too, like you're a squealing pig.

For every new pair your boyfriend liked the look of, he'd give you another cookie and another spank. Your ass was more sensitive now too of course. You're pretty sure if he kept spanking you might actually cum from it, but you're too embarrassed to tell him. After the fashion show, he has you strip it all off, and now he's just... playing with you. It's not just your thighs, and not just your ass, he's finding every new plump play-place all over over your body, and you can't stop moaning, and you can barely think, and when you try to speak you can only get a groan out before another cookie is shoved in there, you were on to a second box now and these ones were triple chocolate.

Eventually, still chewing, you manage to get out your question. "Why m I scho schenschitive?"

Your boyfriend laughs, and he wipes the crumbs from your lips, and he tells you the truth. "It's because you fattened yourself into a toy, baby. You're just a squeaky squeezy toy now, a big soft fleshlight, my piggy plaything."

Themes include dumbification, sluttification, long term brainwashing, large scale societal change, tops and bottoms as social constructions, oral, anal, some BDSM stuff.