a silly, kinky pup

Once Shane eventually calms down, Ilya tells him his plan: take the choice off Shane’s plate (pun intended) and put it on Ilya’s. Shane won’t have to make decisions about his food anymore, Ilya will decide for him. What Shane eats, when Shane eats, how much Shane eats, it will all be up to Ilya. Shane feels his body relax the moment Ilya explains his idea. “Yes,” he tells Ilya, “Please, take control.” It’s exactly what he wants, exactly what he needs. He’ll do whatever Ilya says, and his brain won’t fight him on it; his brain never fights him when Ilya tells him what to do. It’s blissfully, beautifully silent, and it’s the most at peace Shane has ever felt. Ilya’s thrilled that Shane’s so agreeable to the idea and tells him that they’ll start the next day; they talk through boundaries and safe words if Shane ever wants this to stop, if anything happens that Shane doesn’t want, but Shane’s not worried. He knows this is what he wants and he has no plans of stopping Ilya from feeding him. He wants to indulge, he wants to completely let go, and this is how he’s going to do it. 

The first day Ilya takes control is a pretty average day; Ilya starts off slow, not having Shane do anything that far outside of his comfort zone. They eat breakfast together, Ilya serving Shane a pretty normal amount of food, and telling him to eat, so Shane does. There’s no voice in his head arguing with him that the food is unhealthy, he shouldn’t be eating it, he’s wrecking his body. He just eats. Lunch goes the same way, as well as dinner, and Shane is thrilled. The plan is actually working. Ilya tests him a bit after dinner, having Shane indulge in dessert, something he has been having particular trouble with. He gives Shane two scoops of ice cream, and sits next to him, keeping up a running commentary about the show they’re watching. When Shane finishes, Ilya takes his bowl back to the kitchen and he assumes that he’s done eating for the night. Except a minute later, Ilya comes back with the same bowl, now holding three scoops of ice cream. Ilya places it in Shane’s hands and sits back next to him. Shane hesitates for a moment until he feels Ilya’s hand on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly. “Eat, Shane,” Ilya says, so Shane eats, and when he finishes Ilya tells him he did a good job, he’s perfect, he’s such a good boy for Ilya, eating exactly what he tells him to. Shane’s practically purring at the praise, eyes glazed over a bit, brain peacefully quiet; he did good he did what Ilya says, he feels so happy so content so full, he wants to feel like this forever. 

By the end of the first month, Ilya has slowly but consistently increased Shane’s food intake a little bit each day. An extra snack during the day, another plate at dinner, increased portions for all three meals now. And he keeps up his commentary, telling Shane that he’s so proud of him, look at how much more he can eat now; all he has to do is listen to Ilya and he’s doing that beautifully. Not much weight has come on yet, because Ilya has been deliberate with his slow increase, but Shane’s sharp edges have started to soften, and they both love it. Ilya can’t keep his hands off Shane even more than usual, and Shane can’t wait for his body to soften even more. 

Three months into Ilya taking control and Shane’s appetite has increased exponentially. Ilya’s been feeding him more snacks throughout the day to increase his capacity, and he’s always serving Shane seconds for dinner and dessert. Ilya loves seeing Shane’s brain fully shut off when Ilya tells him to eat, the way he’s reaching for seconds now without any hesitation. Ilya’s noticed Shane reaching for snacks on his own as well, not always needing Ilya to tell him what to do, his brain going quiet on its own now that he’s become so used to it. If Ilya were to guess, he’d say Shane’s probably put on around 25 pounds since they started. He’s noticed a tightness in Shane’s clothes, the way he’s gravitating more towards sweatpants and looser shirts, his jeans too tight to pull up over his thick thighs and ass. His belly is starting to push against his shirts even when it’s empty, and he’s noticed Shane giving himself belly rubs on nights that he’s particularly stuffed. Ilya loves fondling Shane’s belly when he fucks Shane from behind, hands grabbing at the extra fat starting to accumulate there, holding onto Shane’s new love handles and pushing himself into Shane as deep as possible, telling Shane he loves him, he loves his belly, loves his body, he’s so perfect for him, as Shane comes untouched, collapsing onto the bed, fully spent. Ilya whispers to Shane that he can’t wait to see his body grow more, see new parts of him jiggle while Ilya fucks him. Shane can barely think, but he moans loudly, telling Ilya he wants that too, he can’t wait to be bigger, fatter, heavier, just for Ilya. 

They’re six months in, Shane sitting at a beautiful 275, when Ilya decides to add a new element: public stuffings. He isn’t sure how Shane will react, but his chubby face lights up as soon as Ilya mentions it to him. He’s nodding along to everything Ilya is saying, practically salivating at the idea of stuffing himself for others to see. Once Ilya plants the idea in his head, he can’t stop thinking about it. He wants everyone to see how big he’s getting, how big Ilya is making him, how big he’s letting Ilya make him. He’s never felt more at home in his body, big belly rounding out, splayed out over his thighs when he sits. He loves his chunky thighs, massive arms, and fat ass. He loves the way his face has softened, giving him a double chin and chubby cheeks. He’s ecstatic at the thought of more people seeing him like this, watching him fatten up, stuffing himself until he’s struggling to take a full breath. 

The first time they engage in a public stuffing, Shane is so amped up he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He’s a little nervous because it’s a new situation, they’ve never brought Ilya’s control to a public place like this, but he’s mostly just excited and fucking turned on. He can picture how their night will play out in his head, and he can’t fucking wait. Shane notices he fills out the dining chair quite a bit, thick thighs bulging out to the armrests when he sits down. He immediately feels himself start to get hard at the thought, knowing he’ll be filling the chair out even more by the time dinner is over. Shane doesn’t even have to speak to the waiter, Ilya ordering everything for him, knowing exactly what he wants and exactly what will fill him up. While they’re waiting for the two appetizers that Ilya orders, he passes Shane the breadbasket and tells him to finish it before the appetizers arrive. Shane barely even thinks before he’s shoving slice after slice into his mouth; it’s so fresh and the butter is salty and delicious; he’s practically moaning around each piece. Ilya can’t take his eyes off him, pupils blown wide in lust, watching Shane indulge where everyone can see.

He finishes the bread just as the appetizers arrive and Ilya pushes both plates towards Shane. He should have known, of course they were both for him. God he fucking loves Ilya. All he wants to do is eat and all Ilya wants to do is watch him eat, so he puts on a fucking show. Rubbing his belly that’s just starting to feel bloated, moaning around each mouthful of food, shoveling it in as fast as he can, telling Ilya around each bite how good the food is. Once he’s finished, he sits back a bit, stifling his belches with his fist, patting his belly in contentment. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Ilya asks him, staring at the tightening buttons on his shirt; Ilya requested this outfit for a reason after all. He’s starting to feel a bit full, but he’s not going to admit that yet. “Hungry,” Shane says with a wink, as their entrees arrive. 

Shane devours his food, barely even thinking about how bloated he’s feeling, he just wants to keep eating. His pants are getting tight, his shirt buttons straining even more, but he knows if Ilya tells him to, he’s going to eat even more. Whatever Ilya says, Shane will do, which is why he’s not surprised when Ilya mirrors their appetizers and orders two desserts, which Shane knows are both for him. He’s breathing heavily, letting some soft belches slip out to create more room, but Ilya wants him to eat more, so he’s going to eat more. No matter what. The desserts, a massive slice of tiramisu and 3 hearty scoops of sorbet, go down much slower, but he makes his way through them. By the time he’s finished, he can barely breathe, and he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to stand up. He’s so fucking full, so fucking bloated, so filled up with food and he fucking loves it. He’s surprised he hasn’t burst through his shirt with how much the buttons are straining; maybe next time. Ilya lets him rest for a few minutes, telling Shane how good he did, how he ate so much so perfectly for Ilya, he’s so proud of him, he deserves a reward for all his hard work. Ilya helps him up, one arm around Shane’s fattening waist as he slowly waddles his way back to the car, groaning and belching, rubbing his fat belly trying to relieve any of the pressure. 

By the time they get home, Shane has digested a bit and has an easier time getting out of the car. Ilya leads him right to their bedroom, practically ripping Shane’s shirt off and moving to his pants as Shane falls back onto the bed. Ilya sucks Shane off until he’s coming desperately down his throat, imagining himself even bigger, eating even more, taking up even more space, struggling to get up off their couch. 

The restaurant stuffings become part of their routine, and they end up doing them twice a week, Ilya adding a little bit more to Shane’s meals every couple of weeks. Eventually, Shane is spending the entirety of those evenings stuffed beyond belief, Ilya shoving dessert numbers 3 and 4 into his face when they get home. The nights end with either Shane on his back shoveling ice cream into his mouth or Shane on all fours, practically face first in a plate of cake, shoving it into his mouth as fast as possible while Ilya fucks him from behind. 

Naturally, with this additional onslaught of never ending food and stuffings, Shane’s weight absolutely explodes. He’s blowing up faster than either of them anticipated, but they’re both so fucking turned on by it that there’s no slowing down in site. They’re 9 months into Ilya taking control, and Shane has blown past 300 pounds with ease. Ilya’s not sure exactly what Shane weighs, they’re saving that for the 1 year mark, but he’s big all over. Double chin, massive arms, belly bulging out in front of him, his thighs overflowing most chairs. He’s getting out of breath much quicker, and it’s a lot harder for him to ride Ilya with how much effort it takes. He’s fucking heavy, to the point where Ilya is really feeling it when Shane puts his whole weight on top of him. They’ve continued to work out together, Shane mostly focusing on lifting, while Ilya’s more well-rounded, but Ilya is starting to genuinely struggle with pulling Shane up or moving him around in bed. He’ll just have to increase his workouts. 

Ilya barely has to tell Shane to eat nowadays; it’s rare for Shane to not be eating honestly with how much his appetite has expanded over the past year. Ilya comes home on the day of the 1-year mark to find Shane in his usual spot on the couch, mindlessly shoveling snacks into his mouth. His shirt is straining over his belly, barely able to cover it; Ilya makes a note to upgrade Shane’s wardrobe once again. He takes a second to just stare at Shane, his beautifully massive and overfed husband. Who would have thought this is where they’d be now; Ilya couldn’t have dreamt up a better outcome for Shane giving over some of his control to him. He’s never been more in love with his husband, falling in love with him more and more with every pound that adds onto him. 

“Okay my love,” Ilya says walking over to Shane, “pause the eating for now, it’s weigh-in time.” Shane groans and whines a bit but Ilya knows it’s all just an act; Shane’s just as excited as Ilya is to see how much weight he’s gained. “Fine, fine, help me up,” Shane complies, dusting crumbs off his shirt, sending his massive belly jiggling. He reaches his hands out and Ilya pulls him up off the couch, both of them grunting with the effort it takes. Ilya walks behind Shane on the way to the bathroom, admiring his slow waddle and the way his whole body moves, hips filling up so much of the hallway, love handles overflowing his loosest shorts. Shane has started to get out of breath by the time he steps onto the scale, both hands resting on his belly. “What’s the damage?” He asks Ilya, peering over his stomach even though he hasn’t been able to see his feet in months. Ilya crouches down to look and lets out a low whistle, “362 pounds Shane, very, very impressive.” He stands back up and kisses Shane, hard, hands groping at his belly, so unbelievably turned on by how fat Shane has gotten, how fat Ilya has made him. “Any regrets?” He asks, even though he knows the answer, but it’s always good to check.