UK | FTM | 24 | minors dni SW 130lbs | CW 180lbs | HW 183lbs GW1 180lbs | GW2 200lbs | UWG 220lbs Currently maintaining my weight for top surgery (yayy top surgery!!)
Kinkiness aside for a moment, fat is so beautiful, fatness has such an eye catching beauty for me, that no one who fits into the current beauty standards can compare to it.
Yes muscular frames do take a lot of work and dedication to shape them into that exact form someone wants, I definitely respect said effort. But it can't hold a candle to someone who is overweight and the allure they've got.
The roundness of someone's belly and the softness that always gives in with the smallest of touches. How every inch of their body is coated in that same rich softness that makes everything much bigger and appealing, creating hangs, rolls, curves and folds in a unique way.
And no one can convince me that fatness isn't attractive or doesn't hold beauty, for I always see it.
You start feeding them gently. An extra snack here or there, a second helping of food made with extra butter or oil, the encouragement to eat dessert every night.
Your favorite activity? Having them sit on your lap so you can wrap your arms around them, massage them and feel how their belly is growing. This is clearly enjoyed by both of you.
As this progresses, you also indulge in a snack or two, an extra portion. Your feedee encourages you to enjoy the food you’ve cooked or bought for them. You’ve always been lean, so this will not be an issue. You mostly wear comfortable sweats so you do not notice that they are filling out. It’s a little bit harder to get your arms around your feedee’s belly, but of course, they are growing, getting heavier on your lap, so you find this incredibly hot.
The feeding progresses, your feedee continuing the now established pattern, saying how good the food is and slipping extra bites into your mouth, baking your favorite cookies to share with you, bringing home your favorite flavors of ice cream. You are entranced by how big they are becoming, so much so that you don’t notice much else. And your tight clothes? Obviously they shrank the wash and are replaced. Maybe you’ve gained a pound or two, but not much. You don’t understand why your feedee finds this amusing.
You continue your couch ritual until the night you realize how difficult it is to get your arms around their belly. Baby, you tease, you’re getting so big. Look how far away my arms are from your belly.
Oh really, they say. I don’t think I’m the only one getting big. You’ve got a little extra here too, they tease, rubbing their back against your belly. It’s only then that you examine your stomach and realize how much you’ve gained along with your feedee, your belly round under your clothes.
They turn around on your lap and pull off your top. Just look at this gut, they tease again, poking and squeezing your newly acquired fat. They press their body against yours to show just how far apart you are even with your bellies squished together, try to wrap their arms around you to show how futile a task this is. I think your gut’s even fatter than mine now, they laugh.
And, they say, rubbing your big belly, think it’s time for you to have another snack.
prompt: weight gain after an injury resurfaces memories of an overweight adolescence
Only two months of working from home, and Fin was sick of it. He should be grateful, sure, that his career in marketing made it easy to keep his job despite his ankle injury, but being in his apartment’s dingy little office from morning to night, no coworkers to talk shit with, no pretty high-rise view, no free snacks…
Fin finished off another package of Oreos as he logged off for the day. Okay, so he still had snacks, and it was his boyfriend paying for them, but still. His computer screen went black, and Fin found himself staring at his dim, glossy reflection. The skin around his eyes looked strained and his face had a slight puffiness to it. He reached for another Oreo on instinct - of course finding only crumbs - and felt a prick of shame. Was he really developing a mindless eating habit already? He should have told Henry no to the Oreos. And no to the donut sticks. And no to the pizza bites and the Poptarts. What kind of self control did Henry think he had?
Using his three good limbs, he maneuvered himself up from his office chair and onto his crutches. They were a pain to use, but not nearly as much of a pain as putting an ounce of weight on his bad ankle. He’d had two surgeries back-to-back after shattering it, and his doctor was optimistically estimating twelve to fourteen months before a complete recovery.
He left the room, not intending to go to the kitchen, but that's where he found himself, taste buds jonesing for more sugar. To ease the craving, he allowed himself a couple swiss rolls. Not ideal before dinner, but what did it matter? Henry could only complain about ruined appetites if Fin conspicuously picked at his food, so Fin would just have to eat heartily at dinner despite now also fixing himself a thickly spread peanut butter sandwich on white bread. His taste buds sung in pleasure, and as he ate, Fin’s gaze roamed over the other goodies. What else? What else? His mind wouldn’t give him a break. Fin couldn’t blame it, though, not when Henry had gone all out with comfort food, pitying the double whammy of being injured and still having to work. The pantry had a rainbow of overly processed treats.
Sandwich gone, Fin blew out a long breath and told himself to sit on the couch, lay down in bed, read a book, check social media, do anything other than hesitantly fondle the bag of jumbo marshmallows on one of the shelves.
He wanted to open the bag. Indulge a little more. He wanted to so badly that Fin forced himself to take a good look down at his body in an attempt to curb the feeling. He cupped the bottom of the belly he’d developed over the last two months - hell if it wasn’t as soft as the marshmallows. He had love handles now, too. The green polo he was wearing, once his loosest and most comfortable, clung to his curves in a way that made Fin close his eyes in defeat. He wasn’t just a pound or three heavier; he was actively gaining weight.
Those two words made Fin go pink in the face with frustration and embarrassment.
Some guys stayed so thin without trying, but not him! All his life, weight gain had plagued him. Mortifying family photos were burned into his brain, sequencing how he’d ballooned from a normal toddler into an ever fatter child, incurably greedy despite his parents' attempts to keep his diet under control. When bullying kicked in as a tween, he took the internet’s advice, stopped drinking soda, and lost weight. But then, puberty. It seemed in middle school like every bite of ice cream made him gain five pounds. He hated having to buy fat boy pants with his mom and tug down big shirts that clung to his tubby breasts.
Eating less and skateboarding more seemed to do nothing for his shape, and in the summer after seventh grade he gained so much weight (he had a bad crush on a boy), he’d been genuinely terrified his butt wouldn’t fit in the seats at school. It did, though it hung off the edges a bit, but the stress made him resolve all through eighth grade and the summer afterward to lose the weight permanently.
By high school, he was only chubby, which he decided he could live with. Then in college, he worked out more and became more beefy than chubby, which was even better. He had a couple boyfriends here and there who made him try even harder to cut the fat, and sometimes he was successful - unlike the relationships. A couple years after graduating, he met Henry, who liked to cook and take care of him and buy a crap load of junk food when he wasn’t feeling great. Who liked when Fin did things for himself (demanded he do things for himself).
Who probably could see plain as day that his boyfriend was chubbing out. But Fin didn’t mention it, and neither did Henry.
A week passed. Fin tried to eat normally at meals and cut down on the snacks, but his mind rebelled, as if not having chocolate-covered pretzels while editing a commercial clip was some unbearable deprivation. Fin thought that having an injury would hinder him from getting up and going to the kitchen to graze, but if anything, having an injury meant he lingered longer there, taking more than he needed so he wouldn’t have to make a second and third trip when his cravings started acting up again.
His efforts to cut down routinely failed, and his workload routinely increased, and he shoved the awareness that he was gaining weight to the back of his mind like a normal, overwhelmed adult.
The next month came and went. Several did. Fin kept finding more junk food in the pantry, and he consumed it all, almost like it was his duty. He couldn’t find it in himself to tell Henry to stop buying so much. And everyday it got more difficult not to take seconds of Henry’s decadent dinners, then eat dessert for three after.
His body couldn’t get enough. Fin tingled head to foot to fingertip in anticipation of eating, even as his ass grew engorged and heavy, spilling off his office chair. He craved to overeat even as his hips squeezed the armrests, and his belly and thighs jiggled like crazy when he used his crutches.
One evening, Henry was brushing his teeth and Fin was patting his face dry when reality hit: his double chin, which used to only poke out sometimes, didn’t go away anymore. His cheeks were full and bulbous compared to Henry’s. His jaw didn’t really show…at all. Fin stared at his body, swollen with fat into a wide pear shape, pajama shirt not quite covering the lowest inch of his belly. His forearms and upper arms too were big and pillowy with excess fat, muscle completely hidden. Fin swallowed.
“Really let myself go, huh,” he muttered.
Henry spit into the sink. “Don’t even start. You’re hot.”
“Right.” Fin shook his head at his reflection. Luckily, he didn’t feel afraid of becoming so fat, like he had as a kid. Now, he just felt like it was his fate.
But damn. He looked like he couldn’t go five minutes without shoving a Twinkie in his mouth - which wasn’t even far off the mark anymore! He was eating at least eight or nine sweet things a day, not including the binges that were happening a couple times a week now, usually around three in the morning.
Henry’s expression became serious. He met Fin’s eyes through the mirror. “You’re as beautiful as you’ve always been. That’s a fact to me. A subjective fact, but not one you have any right to argue with.”
Fin smirked at Henry’s haughty tone. “Okay, okay.”
Henry wasn’t satisfied, though. He stepped up to Fin and slotted his hands against the narrowest point of his waist (which wasn’t narrow at all), just above where Fin’s gut really expanded out to full blubbery glory. Henry smoothed his hands downwards, as if trying to caress the expansion. “You’ve gotten big,” Henry said quietly. “You’ve been so good.”
Fin hardly dared to breathe. “Good?”
“Eating your fill. Letting yourself indulge.” Henry pressed his fingers into Fin’s weight. Could he tell that Fin had crossed the line into obesity? At the very least, it was clear Fin was losing control. “You haven’t talked about it much, but I remember you saying that all through school you put a lot of effort into keeping your weight down. You don’t have to anymore; you know that right?”
“I…”
“I loved how you got a little overweight a few months into dating.”
Fin went beet red. He’d been sure to diet as soon as he noticed. “Because I really liked you, and it made me nervous.”
Henry laughed and kissed him. Then again, and again. He groped Fin’s ass. “If you still really like me, you’ll keep eating as much as you want, and you’ll tell me what you actually want for dinner instead of what you think you should want.”
Fin let out a wistful breath. That sounded amazing. “I’ll get way too fat. Way, way too fat.”
Henry hummed a pleased sound next to his ear. “Promise?”
Fin could imagine himself gaining all the weight he’d tried not to growing up, becoming as big and heavy as his body desperately wanted. Gorging himself everyday, perpetually overfed, loved and enabled by his thin boyfriend. Even struggling to walk a bit even after his ankle fully healed because his legs weren’t used to carrying so much fat without crutches.
Fin’s mouth started to water as he imagined Henry feeding him in bed. “I’m hungry,” he blurted.
Henry patted his love handle, making it quiver. “Good boy.”
---
Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!
I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology
Im all alone at the office because everyone else is wfh and have unlimited access to vending machines today. Someone's going to need to roll me home after @~@
3 trips downstairs to the vending machines down, about to make the fourth for more soda and something sweet~~ going to try and make it 6 in total x3 being all alone with endless treats is a dream come true @w@
I’ve waited a long time to feel that sensation again. The softness of your body. I’ve always been hesitant to immediately touch certain parts of you. I’ve always feared my eagerness and how it may be perceived. The comments I may hear. Disdain. Embarrassment. Being “too much”.
But… sinking my hands into the side of your tummy. It’s like a taste of heaven. Finger tips being swallowed by all that goodness. Soft. Doughy. Plump. It is all so gorgeous.
You know how irresistible you are to me. I can’t possibly hide my growing desire for your figure. Gentle squeezes turn into slow, deep rubs. My hands slip away from your sides and head towards the apex of your soft belly.
You’ve grown so much since we’ve first started. A testimony to your affection for me, right? I want you to know that every squeeze is me noticing those efforts. Every pound an extent to how much you desire me. Shall we count? Or have you been a good boy keeping track.
When my hands sink into your soft gorgeous body, my eyes cannot help but admire your figure and then they start traveling up. Up, up, up all the way until it reaches your lips.
Such a beautiful mouth. Oh how I’ve missed prying your lips open and feeding you. Feeding means so much to me. I feed you because I care for you. I feed you because I want to make you happy. I feed you because I love you.
As much as you think you’ve grown soft, I think I’m truly the one who has softened up. My heart melts for every inch of you. I need to feed you. I need to feel your body. I need this completely. I just need this.
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