Thickboys

This stuffing fucked me up so bad 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Feeding each other until we’re both too thick to fit into these jocks. We’re well on our way 🐷🐷

My ultimate relationship goals😍🥰

I have dropped my highest patreon membership costs significantly! Enjoyy :p

Forced Gainer Story:

Jake and Tyler had been inseparable since freshman year. Straight as arrows, both ripped from lacrosse and endless gym sessions, they shared an off campus house after graduation. Jake was the golden boy. Six foot two, 190 pounds of lean muscle, square jaw, always chasing tail. Tyler was slightly bigger. Six foot three, 205 pounds, the cocky one who partied harder and fucked louder. They called each other bro like a religion. Bros before hoes. No limits.

Until Jake lost his job.

Money got tight. Tyler, still flush from family cash, started changing. He would order massive takeout every night. Pizzas, burgers, Chinese, gallons of full fat shakes. At first it was bro fuel. Then he started pressuring Jake.

You are getting soft, man. Need to bulk up. Real men carry weight.

Jake laughed it off at first. But Tyler was not joking.

One night after too many beers, Tyler pinned Jake down on the couch. Jake was buzzed, laughing, thinking it was roughhousing. Tylers eyes were cold.

Time to make you my fat fucking pig, bro.

Jake tried to shove him off, but Tyler was stronger and had zip ties ready. He bound Jakes wrists to the heavy oak coffee table legs, then his ankles. Jake yelled, cursed, threatened to end the friendship. Tyler just smirked and shoved the first funnel down his throat.

The forced feeding started slow but relentless. Tyler blended heavy cream, ice cream, peanut butter, weight gainer powder, and corn syrup into thick, nauseating shakes. Three thousand plus calories each. He clamped Jakes nose until he swallowed. Jake gurgled, choked, belly swelling visibly after just the first liter. By the end of the first week, Tyler had him on a schedule. Six force feedings a day plus whatever greasy trash he could cram in.

You are gonna get huge for me, Tyler whispered while rubbing Jakes bloating gut. No more gym. No more running. Just eating and getting fatter like the weak bitch you are.

Jake fought. He puked. He begged. Tyler responded by locking the fridge, chaining the doors, and installing a feeding tube setup at night while Jake slept off the bloat. He would wake up with his stomach painfully distended, sloshing, stretch marks already forming as his abs disappeared under a growing layer of soft fat.

Months passed. Jakes once chiseled body betrayed him. His pecs sagged into soft tits. His flat stomach ballooned into a heavy, hanging gut that rested on his thickening thighs. Tyler measured obsessively. Two hundred twenty. Two hundred fifty. Two hundred eighty. He would slap the new rolls, laugh, and force another meal down.

Look at you, bro. Used to be such a stud. Now you are my personal gainer pig. Say it.

Jake, broken and constantly full, would whimper it through tears. I am your fat pig.

The darkness deepened. Tyler started mixing in appetite stimulants and hormones he bought online. Jakes ass ballooned into wide, jiggly cheeks that spread when he was forced onto his back for inspection. His cock stayed hard now from the constant pressure on his prostate from the sheer mass of his own gut. Tyler would edge him for hours while pumping more calories in, never letting him cum until he had hit a new weight record.

One brutal night, Tyler brought in reinforcements. Two other former lacrosse bros who were in on the secret. They held Jake down while Tyler force fed him an entire sheet cake, then a family sized tub of lard mixed into warm milk. Jakes belly stretched obscene, skin tight and shiny, navel popped out like a cork. He was pushing 350 pounds now, mobility failing. They laughed as he moaned, humiliated, leaking pre cum from his smaller looking dick buried in fat.

You were always the pretty one, Tyler growled, mounting Jakes massive belly and grinding against the soft flesh. Now you are mine. No one else will want this disgusting fatass except me.

Jakes resistance crumbled completely. The constant fullness, the helplessness, the shame. It twisted into something darker. He started craving the feedings. Begging for them between sobs. Tyler rewarded him by finally fucking his fat ass raw while force feeding him one last monstrous shake, Jakes enormous belly sloshing violently with every thrust.

By the end of the year, Jake was unrecognizable. Four hundred fifty plus pounds of quivering, stretch marked blubber. Triple belly rolls cascading over his useless cock and thunder thighs. Man tits that hung and jiggled. Tyler kept him chained to a reinforced bed most days, belly exposed, feeding tube always ready. He would come home from work, slap the massive gut, and say the same thing every time.

Good pig. My straight bro turned into the ultimate gainer slut.

I know that you made me love me

Piggy tries his tight clothes. I think they shrunk in the washing machine?

Im getting so fat icl… is there any content youd like to see in patreon cos a lot of members are cancelling 🥲🥲

The Reluctant Gainer

Alex had always been the skinny guy. At 24, he stood 6’1” and barely weighed 160 pounds, all sharp angles and long limbs. He worked a quiet data entry job from his apartment, exercised just enough to stay healthy, and never thought much about his body beyond making sure his clothes fit. That changed the day he met Marcus.

Marcus was the opposite: broad-shouldered, thick around the middle, and unapologetically confident. They matched on a dating app, and their first dinner date stretched for hours. Marcus ordered generously—steaks, loaded fries, two desserts—and encouraged Alex to do the same. “Life’s too short to count calories,” he said with a warm smile, his hand resting casually on his own soft belly. Alex laughed it off and ate more than usual that night. He felt full, heavy, and strangely content.

A few weeks in, Marcus revealed more. “I like bigger guys,” he admitted one evening while they lounged on the couch. “Not just ‘dad bod.’ I like when a guy lets go and really grows. Soft. Heavy. Full.” His fingers traced slow circles on Alex’s flat stomach. “You’d look incredible if you filled out.”

Alex blushed but didn’t pull away. The idea was new, a little scary, but the way Marcus looked at him—with open hunger and affection—stirred something deep. They started slow. Marcus cooked rich meals: creamy pastas, buttery mashed potatoes, pizzas loaded with extra cheese. He praised Alex constantly. “Look at you, eating so well for me.” After every meal, Marcus would rub Alex’s belly, gentle at first, then firmer as it swelled with food.

The first ten pounds came quickly. Alex’s face softened. His sharp jawline rounded out. His shirts felt a little snugger across the chest and stomach. He caught himself in the mirror one morning, turning sideways, and felt a strange thrill at the tiny pouch forming above his waistband. Marcus noticed immediately. That night, he fed Alex by hand—chocolate cake, spoonful after spoonful—until Alex’s belly was drum-tight and gurgling. “Good boy,” Marcus whispered, massaging the taut sphere while Alex moaned softly from the pressure and pleasure.

Months passed, and the changes accelerated. Alex quit the gym entirely at Marcus’s gentle urging. “You don’t need to burn it off anymore. Just let it settle.” The weight poured on. Twenty pounds. Thirty. At 200 pounds, Alex developed a proper gut that rested over his belt. His thighs thickened, rubbing together when he walked. Love handles spilled over his pants. Marcus couldn’t keep his hands off him. Every evening became a ritual: massive home-cooked feasts followed by hours of belly rubbing, feeding, and sex where Marcus worshipped every new inch.

Alex’s appetite grew with his body. He started craving the fullness. He’d wake up hungry, eat a breakfast of six eggs, bacon, pancakes swimming in syrup, and a protein shake mixed with heavy cream. Mid-morning snacks turned into second breakfasts. Lunches were entire family-sized meals. Afternoons meant constant grazing—bags of chips, boxes of cookies, liters of full-fat soda. Dinners were events: multiple courses, always ending with dessert. Late-night fridge raids became normal, Alex standing in the glow of the refrigerator in just his underwear, his growing belly hanging heavily as he shoved leftovers into his mouth.

By 250 pounds, Alex barely recognized himself. His once-flat chest had softened into plump pecs with a distinct softness underneath. His belly was prominent now, a round, heavy dome that forced him to adjust how he sat. Stretch marks, faint silver lines, traced the sides of his gut and hips—badges of his surrender. Walking felt different; he waddled slightly, his thick thighs and wide ass shifting with each step. Marcus loved measuring him. “Forty-eight inches around that beautiful belly,” he’d say proudly, kissing the taut skin after another stuffing session.

The addiction deepened. Marcus introduced “full days”—entire weekends where Alex barely moved from the couch or bed. Marcus would bring endless trays: burgers, fries, milkshakes, pasta bakes, cakes, and more. He’d feed Alex until he was panting, belly massively distended and shiny from oil and sweat. Then he’d rub and knead the overloaded gut, pressing out burps, easing the pressure only to fill him more later. Alex’s moans filled the apartment. The sensation of being so completely stuffed, so heavy and helpless, became his favorite feeling in the world.

One year in, Alex hit 320 pounds. His body was transformed. A large, sagging belly hung over his waist, resting on his thick thighs when he sat. His chest was soft and jiggly, nipples sensitive. Arms and legs were padded with fat, making movement slower but more sensual. He had developed a double chin and full, round cheeks. Clothes were a constant struggle—Marcus bought him new ones every few weeks, always a size or two too small at first so Alex could feel himself outgrowing them.

They moved in together. Marcus worked from home too, which meant constant access. Mornings started with Alex being hand-fed in bed, belly already swelling before he even stood up. By noon he’d be stuffed again. Evenings were marathons of eating and pleasure. Marcus would straddle Alex’s massive thighs, grinding against the huge dome of his belly while feeding him one last milkshake or slice of pie. “You’re my perfect gainer,” Marcus would growl. “Look how big you’ve gotten for me. I want you even bigger.”

Alex’s fantasies evolved. He started imagining 400 pounds. 500. The idea of becoming truly enormous—barely able to reach his own belly button, waddling with a massive apron of fat, constantly full and aroused—made him rock hard. Marcus encouraged it all. They bought a bigger bed. Reinforced furniture. Alex stopped wearing real pants at home, opting for stretchy sweatpants that could handle his expanding waist.

One special night, Marcus prepared the ultimate feast. The table groaned under platters: two whole roasted chickens, mountains of mac and cheese, buttered bread, three large pizzas, a gallon of ice cream, and liters of heavy cream shakes. “Tonight we push you,” Marcus said. Alex ate ravenously, encouraged by constant praise and belly rubs. Course after course disappeared. His stomach ballooned outward, tighter than ever, skin stretched shiny and red. He groaned, half in discomfort, half in ecstasy, as Marcus kept feeding him.

When he finally couldn’t take another bite, Marcus laid him back on the bed and worshipped the immense, overfed orb. His hands sank into the soft fat while pressing on the hard, packed contents beneath. Alex came hard just from the pressure and the overwhelming fullness, his massive body quivering.

Years later, Alex tipped the scales at 480 pounds. He was enormous— a true gainer success story. His belly was a vast, pendulous masterpiece that reached halfway down his thighs when standing. Rolls cascaded over his sides. He moved with slow, deliberate waddles, breathing heavily from the sheer effort of carrying so much weight. Marcus still fed him daily, still rubbed and loved every inch. Alex had never been happier. The skinny boy was long gone, replaced by a gloriously fat, constantly stuffed, utterly devoted gainer.

Uncensored pic on OF ;)

Me complaining to my friend im getting fat 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Every reblog ill eat 100kcals