Road To Obesity:

Hi y'all, this is the account person for "Road To Obesity". Thought I would make a little pinned comment.

This blog is just a little outlet for me to discuss my interests in bigger men / male weight gain with others, primarily through narrative stories. I would like to establish that I do not own nor am a part of any of the pictures used. These pictures are either a visual for my ideas or the inspiration behind the narrative. If you know the original creator or owner of any picture(s), please comment their profile under the relevant post.

I'm open to chat with others about topics related to male weight gain, big men, feeder/feedee dynamics, etc. If you're a big man or an enjoy-er of these things, feel free to reach out. I would love to have a conversation, do some roleplay, share pictures, etc. The link to my communications channel is below. You can directly message me on this blog:

I may update this later with things I enjoy. Until then, feel free to reach out or just enjoy my content! 🫶

Humiliate me please 🐷

You want me to humiliate you? Why? You're already doing a great job of humiliating yourself. I mean, how many pounds have you packed on now? 30? 40? 50? The number doesn't really matter. You would still look fat as fuck. Just take a look at yourself.

Your tits have ballooned with lard, gaining a supple droop to them. Your ass juts out now, complimented nicely by the thickening heft of your thighs. That paunch, once a flat board, now threatens to spill into a heart overhang. Even your widening stance betrays just how much damage you've done to yourself. You're a pear-shaped, plump, pampered fat boy. And you want to know the best part?

You really think so? I mean, there's certainly room to improve on the damage you've already done. I scrolled your blog, and that paunch wasn't nearly as doughy a few months ago. What the fuck have you been eating? Donuts? Pizza? Burgers? I know: everything.

Now, if you want that button bursting off your jeans, we've got to up the quantity. I want you eating 5 meals a day. And no "salad" bullshit. I expect genuine "gut-busting" meals, the shit that leaves you moaning afterwards in pain and pleasure. It'll be hard at first, but you'll adapt. That gut will get used to being permanently stuffed, and the feeling will become second nature. That's when you'll really start seeing proper results...

I expect you'll feel it first in your gut. That's where most of your weight is held. Plump flesh will grow softer, and you'll see a hefty slab of meat begin drooping over your waistband. I expect a proper overhang in two weeks. A month at most. Next, your tits will get more tender as they further fill with lard. Their growing form will soon be visible through any and every shirt you try to wear, a reminder that you've become less man and more pig. The rest will come on rather swiftly. Meaty double chin. Burgeoning love handles. Thickening thighs. Everything you would expect from a fatass such as yourself.

Starting this summer, your old man decided to finally treat himself. He had always worked diligently as a sales representative. Good pay, little time off. However, taking a break from work, he finally had the time to splurge on himself. And when he said splurge, he meant it.

Your dad quickly bought all of his summer essentials: a cooler to be stocked with beer, a picnic set, a fresh grill, and new swimwear. The final item, a sleek black speedo, was unfortunately delayed in arriving. However, that didn't stop him from lazing by the pool all summer.

This sedentary lifestyle had fast-acting results. His frame, always a bit chunky, quickly ballooned into a plump figure of jiggling lard. Daily ice cream and cool treats built heft on his paunch, eventually developing into a meaty overhang. Thickening thighs brushed together as he made fewer attempts to leave the poolside. His tits, sagging from age, now found new vitality as they filled with fresh fat. He had truly become a sight of indulgence and "self care".

At the end of summer, that pesky speedo finally found its way to your door. The man it came for, however, was certainly not the man who had ordered it. Not just in figure, but in quality of life. Your dad was truly fat and happy, and you could be no more proud of him for it.