Rob was spread out on his back, all four limbs extended, completely pinned by both the hundred of pounds of fat that encased every inch of his body and a belly so heavy, stuffed and stretched it might as well have been filled with lead. Rob moaned in overfed contentment, breathing heavy. It wasn’t unusual for my greedy fat boy to pass out and sleep off a heavy feeding session in that position, unable to move for a few hours until all the grease had drained from his belly and been deposited in his blubber rolls.
The hardest part of our sessions was coaxing Rob off his back to have access to his ass. We still had plenty of food, I always tucked some of the the softer, more preservable cheese cake, pudding ,ice cream and milk shakes to the side of us so Rob could have a second round and enjoy ‘desert’ while we fucked.
He still had snack cakes and candy trapped in the fold of his under belly and a few smashed pastries tucked neatly in his jockstrap waistband. I tried to awaken him a bit, reaching a greasy hand into his under belly rolls, playing with his buried cock, extracting drips of fat boy pre cum to taste. Neither of us had seen more than the tip of Robs cock, surrounded by soft rolls on all sides for over a year. It was functionally useless and impossible for me to jerk him off properly by hand. It usually required fucking or prolonged vibration to create enough stimulation him enough to get him off. I fought back the blubber, rubbing the tip of Rob’s cock with my greasy fingers. Rob responded by moaning deeply and pained, letting out a huge belch. At the start of our relationship it had been really difficult to get an overstuffed Rob off. He usually had to finish himself off, becoming flushed and out of breath, wasting precious calories in the process. Rob was circumsized, disappointingly insensitive but as he reached the upper echelons of weight gain his cock had receded into his fat underbelly protecting it in a soft, warm, cave and bringing most the sensitivity back.
Rob kept moaning, getting increasingly eager to get off, he reached out searching for something else to eat, checking his rolls for stray candy. By this point I had made sure we had cleared his immediate surroundings. He reached down trying to extract what was left within immediate reach from the fold of his under belly and the slops squashed under his sides where his ass rolls were spread out on the tarp.
“No baby, roll over for me”
He pretended not to hear. His sticky fingers intently searching, extracting, melted chocolate balls from his rolls to suck on.
“Come on, roll over!” I said more forcefully, threatening to leave him there pinned with nothing to eat within each.
Rob slowly rolled his huge body, grunting as he forced one side of his lower body into a half roll. I grabbed his flabby upper arm and half sliding under him helped him roll his upper body. He started panting and let out almost a painful moan as his full belly rolled over on to the tarp. There was a huge gurgling sound from his gut that made his muscles twitch and he let out a second enormous belch that echoed round the room. I helped him lay comfortably, adjusting the sticky sides his manboobs and his lower love handles at the side so they spread smoothly out the tarp and nothing was pinching uncomfortably pinned uncomfortably under his huge torso.
Rob was no less impressive from behind than in front, over five feet wide total his love handles and mid body rolls resembled two tractor tires stacked on top of each other. More recent stretch marks criss crossed older faded ones and curved round the outer edges of where the two huge heavy spares tires of flab rolled into one another. At the top of his wide expansive back another fat roll ringed where his neck should have been, forming a deep crease at the hair line. Robs ass was a story of it’s own, two huge soft white mountains of blubber made up his butt cheeks. They jigged and wobbled with the slightest movement, between them his ass crack, a warm soft blubbery canyon, two foot long and deep enough for my hand and half my forearm to disappear entirely into. I scooted my own muscular ass across the tarp until I was sitting in front of Rob. He dutifully lifted his head and deep throated my cock, making the same greedy piggish noises as when he ate. He rolled his tongue over it, covering it in drool and slurping it back up with the same tactics and enthusiasm he used to force sweet sugary dough down his throat to his awaiting belly. I split the four donuts from earlier and wrapped them round the thick shaft of my cock.
Rob’s face was red and had drips of sweat running down his bulging chubby cheeks. His mouth and facial scruff still had powdered sugar and chocolate streaks surrounding it.
I grabbed a rag from near by and half cleaned him up. I laid myself down, crotch in his face, tucking my thick muscular thighs into his soft flabby armpits. I had installed a ceiling mirror a while back to admire him while he worked. The way to get a blow deep pleasurable blow job out of Rob was to stack my cock with donuts, he would use his powerful tongue to extract the frosting from the top of the donuts, transferring it to the head of my cock and then sucking on it with the power of an industrial vaccine cleaner. After he began chewing the dough slowly cock in his mouth, pushing the dough round with his tongue to avoid biting me. It wasn’t until each mouthful was soft and soaked in saliva and precum that he used my cock to push the mouthfuls to the back of his throat simultaneously swallowing it and massaging the tip of my cock with his well trained throat muscle. He repeated this four times until the donuts were no more added to the pile of junk food occupying his over strehed stomach. I always wanted to give him a second round, but my balls ached for relief, giving me shivers and painfully unable to resist dumping a full load down his throat.
A couple of donuts were just a snack for Rob, not enough to keep him satisfied compared to his normal gorging routine, he would become restless and need to keep on eating to maintain his arousal. When he started to get restless and bored and I could no longer stand to be deep donut throated without release I pulled myself upright. I parked the remaining cheesecake under his face, pouring ice cream and emptying a can of whipped cream onto the top of it. That was usually enough to keep him busy while I fucked him. He lay his head sideways dipping his fingers into the mess, pushing them into his mouth and sucking them clean making happy content fat boy noises.
This left me free to sideline back to his ass. I usually had to clear any remaining mess out of it with the same rag I used on his face. I didn’t care for sticky sweet flavours that Rob was hopelessly addicted to but it was usually soaking wet with so much perpetration from Rob’s fat face and the space between his cavernous ass cheeks that smelling it drove me insane with animal instincts. I used this rag to bite down hard on when I got off. I had always had challenges with men and roughness, my tendency to get carried away snorting and rubbing my face into the fat roll at the back of Rob’s neck and bite down hard had the potential to draw blood and scars. With the sweat and cum rag between my teeth I could unload in his ass and bite down as hard as I liked without worrying about hurting my fat boy, taking out a chunk of his blubbery flash.
Rob’s ass was simply too wide to straddle and penetrate in any traditional manner. Getting inside him was always a challenge, parting his huge ass cheeks and spreading my hips as far wide as I could. I tucked my arms as far as the would reach around him, enveloping both of my forearms into his warm under belly roll. By this point we were both covered in sweat and grease. This was the only way to get a firm grip and enough leverage to get deep enough to pounded his ass and avoid simply sliding off one another.
Every inch of Robs skin shined with grease. He rolls slipped smoothly over each other as I pumped away at his ass. I called him names, responding to each cheese cake muffled groan by demanding he “TAKE IT FAT BOY.” The sound of flab, slapping off more flap echoed in both our ears as Robs whole body bounced and slid around in his own blubber. Rob ate relentless taking increasingly large handfuls of cheesecake and pushing them into his mouth. Cream and cake covered the outside his mouth but he no longer bothered to try catching stray globs and getting it all in his mouth. He would simply reach for another handful and push it into his still half stuffed cheeks. Rob’s eyes were screwed tightly closed, half pain, needing release, half completely and totally lost in pleasure, needing to force the mouthful down before he got off. He moaned again, swallowing half a mouthful in pain. He mumbled incoherent half sentences, possibly protesting, possibly begging for more food.
He began telling me he needed to be bigger, fatter as I pounded away harder, deep in his huge ass. I was practically enveloped at each side by his blubbery asscheeks. Sweat ran down my chest and back, dripping on to Rob’s ocean of blubber where it slid straight off the thick layer of grease that covered his skin. Eventually he began saying only please, please over and over in an increasingly soft wimper, his voice breaking. No matter what Rob kept pushing cheesecake in, tightening and loosing his asshole trying to pull my cock in deeper and swallow his muscled feeder up between his enormous fat ass cheeks. I was usually pouring a river sweat and grunting for air at this point. Fucking five hundred pounds of blubber isn’t easy, every thrust fought against Rob’s growing body. I was taking up space that belonged to his ass fat which was in turn squeezing the space that belonged to his love handles and the back side of his belly. He was a total helpless fat blob, lazy and completely controlled by food, unwilling to shift his body even an inch to help me get in deeper.
We always came together. I let him have control over this, rolled over on his stomach it was impossible to get anywhere near his cock and force him to get off. So when he decided when he could take no more, usually when there was no more cheese cake left and he was scraping the bottom of the tin, trying to push crumbs from his face into a mouthful already so stuffed he couldn’t close his mouth fully and I worried his would choke himself. We finished without fail every single time by dumping simultaneous loads, the third for me, biting down hard on the rag and grunting while I unloaded deep inside an asshole clenched so tight around my cock I couldn’t pull out until he let me. His first and only, moaning through an enormous mouthful and dumping half a quart of cum deep inside his under belly rolls that I would need to extract later in the shower, after our nap together.
Rob turned sideways as he manoeuvred his body through the entry way to the hall, grunting like an overfed farm animal that would have been better accommodated in a roomy barn than our home. It was the one remaining tight spot in our house, formerly a door frame that had been flagged by two retaining walls, the door and frame had been skilfully removed and sanded flush with the side walls, granting Rob a much needed extra few inches to slide the hugely fat belly that stuck out far in front of him through. He lumbered down the hall, making the floor boards creak as he went. Rob walking really was an incredible sight, he was surprisingly mobile for a guy of his size, don’t get me wrong a short walk across the local grocery store parking lot took us almost 20 mins and frequently left him sweating, out of breath and hauling air in through his bulldog like nose. His cute round face, now mostly plumped up chubby cheeks and a roll of fat where his neck had been, was always flushed. He frequently grabbed his outstretched gut like it had a mind of it’s own, needed apologising to for the forced exercise and demanding extra food in compensation.
He carried his weight like a man, the first hundred pounds literally all went to extending his belly out in from of him and his ass out further behind him. He had widened to accommodate the weight gain, the roll of blubber that separated his belly from his upper torso forming a deep stretch marked crease that rolled all the way round to the middle of his back where a small stubborn patch of leanness just showing his spine poking through remained surrounded on all sides by thick skin. As he waddled down the hallway those two rolls of blubber fought each other for the non existent available space between them. Combined with the swaying of his outstretched belly and a huge pair of bouncing fat man breasts resting on top of his gut made every inch of Rob’s body move as he waddled. A man can only carry so much weight in his gut and butt before it needs somewhere else to go. Rob’s overhanging paunch had started to grow and rapidly develop, a soft blubbery sack of fat hanging off his gut just below his cavernous belly button. Gravity hadn’t taken long to kick in dragging it downward inch by inchtoward Rob’s knees. Unlike Rob’s chest fat it had no outstretched gut to rest comfortably on and so hung freely, leaving it softer and more jiggly than the rest of him, rippling like an oil filled sack, it moved more freely than any other part, bouncing off Rob’s thighs as he waddled down the hallway towards the room.
Getting to the play room, I hugged a sweaty Rob, squeezing him hard so every inch of him filled up my arms, I whispered in his ear.
“You are so fucking sexy, you know that?” I growled deeply, rubbing my nose into the bulging thick flabby skin just below his ear and starting to chew on it.
I reached down and adjusted his underwear, an 8XL jock strap that was once long ago tight white elastic but was now washed and worn to the point it was grey and the elasticity was practically gone. The waistband rested comfortably hugging Rob’s too largest rolls, the space that was supposed to hold an athletic cup stretched over the swollen under belly of the fat pad which contained Rob’s cock buried somewhere deep inside. Standing in front of a floor filled with all his favourite food I could tell Rob was heavily aroused. The smell of it hung in the air, so thick we could both taste it. He was already sniffing, making short impatient snorting noises and rolling his tongue around his mouth, little drips of drool escaping the corner of his mouth.
With my help he got to his knees and carefully crawled into the centre of the food filled tarp. His knees crushed snack cakes and his belly draged along the floor, pushing pastries, donuts and burgers out of the way. He collapsed in the middle rolling over to his back on his mattress of junk food. His 5 foot wide gut stretched out filling as much space as it could and his tits rolled over to his side crushing snack cakes and exposing the stretched nipples usually more than half buried in the fold between his tits and his belly. My perfect fat boy, a mountain of lard, in his element and surrounded by all his favourite things. I liked to feed Rob, growling aggressively and chewing on his neck, his chin, his nipples, but he liked to get started by himself. He had told me in the past the first mouthful was always the best, like rediscovering what he loved all over again. The first step in a thousand burger, cake, donut journey that ended with him stuck on his back, pinned under his own humongous fat belly, pure happiness radiating outwards from the barrel of food his gut and a marathon runners sense of pride and achievement in having pushed his well trained gut, beyond it’s capacity and consumed a weeks with of junk food in one sitting.
Rob shifted his fat ass downwards and wiggled his body into a more comfortable position, crushing more cake and pastry under his rolls. I liked to imagine that by being surrounded by it he could somehow absorb the calories and grow bigger, fatter without effort. Rob now positioned comfortably, reached out scooping a handful of food from just under where his chest fat pooled to his side when he laid down. Digging his swollen fingers into the greasy pile he filled his hand with breaded chicken, cake and candy, dumping it on his chest where he sorted it out before shoving each piece into his mouth. He went back in for a second load, scooping up two handfuls and depositing them in the same spot. I could see a shiny grease patch already forming in the middle of Rob’s chest right at the spot where he had a half dozen stray hairs. These were the only hair on Rob’s torso, a tiny patch in an ocean of soft white flesh, usually hidden deep in his cleavage and only visible when he laid down flat and gravity dragged his fat boy tits down to his side. I sat watching him feed himself, slowly stroking my dick and taking in my quarter ton husband lost to the pile of food he was laying in. He was starting to sweat, the drips of perspiration rolling down his sides, catching in his fat folds and blubber rolls. Unable to form on the large patches of Rob’s grease coated skin they rolled to the sides, dripping on to food covered tarp where they were quickly soaked up by dough.
Rob liked to play with his food, piling six chicken nuggets between two donuts and carefully holding his creation together with his outstretched chubby fingers. He forced his mouth open wide enough that it squeezed the roll of fat that ringed his neck outwards past his chin and allowed his mouth to accommodate a third of his frosted chicken burger. He chewed the enormous mouthful slowly, arousal from his own gluttony willing his mouth to produce enough saliva to lubricate the dough and grease. Seeing he was struggling I let go of my dripping cock, leaving strings of pre cum between my fingers. By now I was dripping so much I probably could have lubricated it for him. Before Rob had gotten too girthy I used to mount him just below his gut lifting a progressively bigger overhang up and letting it rest on my thick muscular legs. Post five hundred pounds his body had widened too much and love handles grown to such a size that this was near impossible and so I had to improvise. Settling for straddling one leg and reaching over his gut or laying my upper body across his, one arm wrapped around his belly, the other available to help him eat. Grabbing a carton of ice cream, I climbed on top of my huge fat boy, my limbs sinking into his soft rolls of blubber like it memory foam.I couldn’t resist rubbing my face aggressively on the greasy, sweat streaked flesh of his belly expanse until I could smell his body oder and perspiration on my skin, deep in my facial scruff. I parked my hard cock in his deep belly button where it could happily drip uninterrupted. I usually came at least three times during our extended feeding sessions, leaving at least one load in his belly button and saving the others to be deposited deep up his ass. I reached up to Rob’s face, bringing my sticky forefinger and thumb to his nose so he could smell.
“see what you do to me fat boy, that’s all you. You’ve eaten yourself to a size we’ve only ever dreamed of, you’re fucking huge, perfect’
I pulled the lid off the tub of ice cream which had now melted to a creamy, fat filled semi solid state. Dunking the rest of Rob’s frosted chicken sandwich in it I brought it to his waiting mouth so he could take a big bite. Rob was adorable when you fed him, when he eat himself he crammed it in, another handful of food ready and waiting as the last mouthful was sliding down the back of his throat. I took it slowly, waiting for him to swallow before rubbing the next bite around the edge of the ice cream carton, collecting as many extra calories as I could and lubricating it for an easy journey down Rob’s throat and into his gut. While I was doing this he stared intently at the food in my hand, unblinking like he might bite my hand off if I didn’t hurry up. His mouth filled with drool twice over, his gut rumbling in dissatisfaction as he swallowed empty mouthfuls of saliva. His tongue rolled round in it, occasionally slipping out to catch crumbs, grease or sugar on the corner of mouth searching for a way to placating his insatiable appetite for more.
I worked my way through the pile of food that surrounded Rob on all sides, deliberately clearing as much of the food that required heavy chewing as I could. Sometimes I tucked a spare sausage roll into the waistband of the sweat soaked food stained jock strap he wore during all our feeding sessions for safe keeping. This jock was my trophy, I frequently took it to work or the gym with me for the moments Rob felt inclined to bug me with too many explicit messages and pictures of him home eating or laying with his belly spilling out of a shirt and I had no choice to retreat to the bathroom and jerk off inhaling sweat, cum and food through it in order to regain my concentration. I stacked up a couple of the donuts that were in better shape and hadn’t been too crushed by either Rob or I for him to deep throat off my cock later.
Reaching up between his thick legs, I tickled the sensitive rolls of flab that buried his leg muscles so they could pull his legs apart and give me access. By now there was a food graveyard of crotch sweat soaked dough and cake at the edge of his ass and between his legs. Dragging my fingers through it, I cleared out the colour streaked unidentifiable sweet sticky mess, all we knew was that it was calories, pure fat and sugar.
It was easy for Rob to eat this, he barely had to chew at all, it took minimal effort to push it to the back of his throat and swallow. Rob’s belly had a near limitless capacity, he was a genetic freak with the stomach capacity to match his insatiable appetite, always hungry for more and a belly that seemed to stretch to accommodate any amount he could eat. Rob could taste both of our sweat on these calorific slops from between his legsn and under his ass. It always seemed to awaken the sexual part of his brain, stirring him from his deep food coma and gainer dreams and making him shift his weight around. He squeezed his ass muscles so they thrust his blubber filled crotch around, the greasy rolls of flab rubbing off his tiny buried cock. His asshole clenched up and relaxed as he felt me rubbing my hand between his butt cheeks to clear stray crumbs out and feed them to him. I couldn’t tell if this was a natural reaction or if he knew me seeing him wriggle and thrust, his five hundred pound body covered in grease, a pool of cum in his inches deep belly button gave me a shooting, painful, strangled feeling in my own cock and a need to get off.
Keeping up with Rob’s appetite had become almost a full time job. Having a five hundred pound virtually housebound husband was not a task I had taken on lightly. Meeting his daily caloric requirements while making sure we maintained an active sex life, indulging both my kinks as well as his the fullest and making sure he didn’t get bored kept me food shopping, bathing and playing with him almost constantly. When I wasn’t taking care of him, I worked on either dreaming up new kinky ways for us both to enjoy the growing mountain of blubber that was the spoilt fat boy I married or making sure our finances were in kept well in order and his food fund stayed as inflated as he had become. It would be crude to tell you how much he managed to eat his way through in a given month, but sufficed to say keeping Rob a happy and well fed housebound husband took the biggest share of our income. My spending in the local fast food places that lined the highway from our home to the nearest town was regularly in excess of our house payment.
In a chaser, gainer relationship where one person out weighs the other by three or four hundred pounds and is still actively gaining food becomes a third person in your relationship. I was terrible at relationships in my twenties before I found Rob. Possessive, uncompromising and demanding, I found everyone almost everyone I tried dating both deeply annoying and exhausting. Some were bigger, beefier, with a gym addiction to rival my own, but also obnoxious and self-centred, insistent on having their own plans and opinions that clashed with mine. Others were overweight since childhood, insecure and easily unnerved, they carried emotional scars that required near constant attention and handling. This sapped my energy, inhibiting my creativity and hampering my ability to work and support us both.
They were all on the chubbier side, none able to squeeze into anything smaller than an extra large shirt. Nothing repulsed me more than visible abdominals and the obsession the typical weak-minded gay men I encountered every day had with starving themselves to maintain them. I equated size with masculinity, the more space a man occupied, the more resources he was prepared to hoard and felt entitled to consume in gross excess, the stronger my attraction to him. I was really looking for someone that gave me control over their mind and body, that would do what they were asked without bothersome questions and an unsolicited opinions. Rob was the one, he was chilled and happy twenty four hours a day, seldom needing attention as long as you left him with plenty to eat. He balanced my sometimes over firm grasp on control with an endearing cuteness and while I deeply lusted after his rolls of blubber like an animal with an insatiable desire for a bigger fatter Rob, he admired his own fatness with a playful fondness.
He would playfully bounce his humongous belly in bed or squeeze his flabby tits together with his arms, knowing I enjoyed it and that it formed the basis of our relationship and was my primary physical attraction to him. He carried his body weighed down by hundreds of pounds of functionless lard comfortably, like it was no big deal to him and being that size was just a part of his life he had accepted and grown to enjoy. While his size and all over softness were my attraction, it was the eating required to maintain that size where Rob really came into his own. Eating was his greatest joy in life. He had an insatiable appetite for junk food, nothing pleased him more. Even before I supersized him, skinny three hundred pound Rob would eat for hours, drooling at the sight of food, intently savouring every mouthful until he was staring sadly at an empty pie tin with its accompanying ice cream carton or gluttony grave yard of hamburger wrappers. I was happy to share my fat boy with his own appetite, it was an arrangement that suited us both perfectly. He knew his love of food rubbed off on me and my love of his expanding waistband on him, I was his overly muscled feeder, always eager to keep him supplied him with more to eat.
That’s how I found myself driving my heavy duty truck down the dirt road to our home on random Tuesday, taking care to avoid the potholes, guarding Rob’s food supply for the day. Colourful boxes cartons and bags stacked six high, covered in flashy logos to distract normal thinking people from just how exceptionally poorly nutritious and loaded with more fat and sugar the contents were it occupied every inch of the back seat. The meagre deception clashed with the large patches of grease soaking through the brown paper, some of the content had already cooled, I had to hit more than a half dozen places to get everything we required and the smell of fat from dozens of burgers and assorted fried food congealing and solidifying hung in the air of the truck forcing me to crack a window. I sighed a heavy sigh, adjusted my semi hard cock inside a tight pair of wrangler jeans that had a mind of it’s own and was already picturing that grease congealing inside Rob, wondering which of his rolls or chins it would soon find its way to. It would be wondrous to park Rob directly under the burger assembly line and like in a work of fiction have him push hot, fresh made burgers into his fat face, but outside buying my own fast food place, and transforming it into a profitless hole that served only to fatten my hugely obese husband up even further, that wasn’t really practical. A shame because the black leather interior of my truck, my other love in life after Rob and his appetite, perpetually smelled like the back of a fucking McDonald’s.
I pulled the truck up infant of our house, a low key single story affair surrounded by trees either side. We had a pool out back and I liked privacy for those hot summer days when it was impossible to keep an over five hundred pound man cool and comfortable inside. Jumping out of the front seat and making a small dust cloud under my battered workbooks I began unloading Rob’s supplies, typically a four trip affair.
Walking inside our home I set the boxes down inside our play room, formerly our living room, it had become a kind of perverts den for our long food fuelled feeding and sex sessions one hundred pounds of Rob ago, after he had outgrown the stairs to the basement and I started growing worried how I’d ever get him back up the stairs if our sessions got a little too rough and he threw his back out or something. Calling my buddies from the local fire department, many of them I worked out with for an assist getting a man fatter than any of them had ever seen out of my basement was not in my plans. Not that I wasn’t positive Rob would promptly dump a load of cum in his pants having a half dozen firemen manhandling his blubber up the stairs while I yelled at them to be careful and the stairs creaked and groaned threatening to collapse under their combined weight. Dumping the last load of boxes on the ground, I stood up stretched my back and caught my breath. It was early summer outside but we kept every room in the house with the exception of my own study a chilly 65 degrees for Rob’s comfort. It didn’t matter, we both still dripped sweat 10 mins into our feeding and play sessions. I walked over to the fridge filling a glass with water and ice cubes and headed back to the play room carrying a big black rubber tarp and a roll of garbage bags under my arm. Pushing the sturdy titanium furniture designed to hold extreme weights aside I unfolded the tarp until it filled the room.
I shook out a garbage bag for the empties and began unloading my haul, the content of all the boxes and fast food bags straight on to the tarp covering the floor. I liked to make sure every inch was covered, I pulled fast food burgers out of grease stained bags shelling them from orange wrappers and tossing them onto the pile resenting the loss of fattening grease to the brown paper. I stopped bothering with fries the second time we did this, noting they became cold hard and unappealing within an hour of rob and I rolling round on the floor feeding him. They also lodged in between Rob’s fat rolls, the salt and frier grease irritating his skin. I pulled a stack of square boxes out of another bag taking a moment to examine the uniformity of machine pressed chicken morsels stripped of any nutritional value and soaked in fat before scooping them up in my hands and sprinkling them out across the floor. They were Rob’s favourite food as a child, I remember he told me on our second date and how cute and embarrassed he was admitting that, back then he eat them like a normal person. Cute , sweet, single, innocent Rob chewing and swallowing them one at time instead of my morbidly obese superchub husband who inhaled food like a shameless glutton, scooping them up three at a time, using his fat fingers to force grease soaked chicken into his overstuffed cheeks.
I emptied each box, scooping up handfuls of chicken nuggets and sprinkled them across Rob’s food covered playpen. Next up savoury pastries, I tossed sausage rolls and meat Pies like frisbies, spinning them so they landed square in the middle of the tarp. I emptied boxes of donuts out letting them roll around like sticky frosted marbles, pushing any that rolled too far into the centre of Rob’s pile with my toes. Snack cakes made up our largest single food haul. Two dozen each of each kind you could find occupying an aisle of any American grocery store went straight on to Rob’s gorging pile. On top of that pop tarts, another collection of Rob’s childhood favourites… cherry, blueberry, strawberry, the boy had a serious addiction to that sickly sweet artificial flavour loaded with synthetic sugars.
It wasn’t unusual for me to come down the stairs in the mornings and and find him deep into his second or third box of the things. I bought them by the dozen, the women at the grocery store shaking her head and judging me for feeding them to the many kids she assumed I had. They weren’t my preferred method of adding more blubber to my huge fat fuck toy during a lengthy feeding session they crumbled and got messy, but they were another of Rob’s favourite comfort foods. I shelled them from their thin silver wrappers and added them to the pile already on its way to covering half the tarp. Next came bags of assorted chocolates and candies, brightly coloured gummy worms I teased Rob would be crawling through his junk food filled stomach after and small round Malteasers and M&Ms that had no where to roll, catching in the rest of our food pile, these tasty little fuckers had a tendency of catching in his between Rob’s rolls and melting into a soft chocolaty mess that went down his throat easy.
Just on the edge of the tarp, I pulled a couple of twelve inch cheesecakes out of the boxes and set them to the side. Scraping some stray cream from the underside of the box, I flicked it on to the pile before tossing the empty boxes into the already over flowing garage bag. I set down a few assorted packs of chocolate and butterscotch pudding cups. I constructed a small pyramid of quart sized cartons of already sloppy molten ice cream and added chocolate syrup and whipped topping cans.
As the final touch I lined up a couple of milkshakes in huge oversized double big gulp cups. Larger than the minimum wage employees at the fast food places were allowed to dispense, but for a crispy twenty dollar bill they never had a problem filling three of them to the brim and me leaving with more than a gallon of the thick calorie loaded slop. Perfect for my insatiably hungry fat boy, he needed the calories to grow, I laughed to myself. By now the play room stank of fast food grease and processed sugar. The grease smell hung in the air fighting the sticky sweet smell of sugar and synthetic flavours almost choking me. I was getting a sugar high just from standing there, oh well it aroused Rob and sent him into an eating frenzy, anyway it would soon all be inside him, doing more damage to his waistline than my sense of smell.
I took a moment to admire my work, snapping a quick before picture on my cell phone to brag to one of my chaser friends how we spent our afternoon, we were always competing, who’s husband could eat more, who’s waistline was larger, who was going to get their partner over the six hundred pound threshold first. Before I went to fetch Rob, I kicked off my boots in the kitchen and dropped my jeans balling them up and throwing them in the corner to deal with later. This left me standing there staring at my blurred reflection in our double door aluminium fridge. I stood there for a moment in just my underwear, a cute novelty pair with smiling critters and donuts on them, they were a gift from Rob. Something I would not be seen dead in at the gym and not exactly a leather studded jock that screamed sadistic dominant feeder, owner of a soon to be practically immobile chub.
I was about 250lbs of solid chunky muscle, flat furry stomach with just enough of a paunch to grab half a handful of stomach fat, thick powerful legs with grapefruit sized calf muscles, wide back with big arms that stretched shirt sleeves and a pair of pecs that if anything were a little too large for the rest of my build. Muscle tits, Rob called them when he laid on me burying me in his flab and playing with them. Bulging firm and hairy they contrasted with the huge hairless soft rolls of blubber that hung off Rob’s chest and giggled their way in-between folds of fabric when constrained by a shirt. We often joked, me squeezing one hard and making him flinch a little and his fat jiggle all over, “baby there’s more fat in one of these than I have in my entire body”
I headed down the hallway towards our bedroom unable to wait any longer for the fun to begin.
The fatter I get the more I want to eat, the more I eat, the more my man enjoys feeding me and watching me eat. The fatter I get, the more I can eat, the longer our meals become, the more I eat with less clothes on, the more we both want to play with my huge, growing fat body as I eat. The fatter and bigger I get, the slower I move, the more I enjoy the feeling of my own fat body. The fatter I get, the more out of breath I am, the less I can reach, the more help I need with everything. The more my man enjoys helping me and enabling my gaining and encouraging my obesity. The fatter I get the harder it is to roll out of bed, or get to my feet. The fatter I get the more I fill out my clothes and the more often we have to go shopping for bigger shirts and special order 4, 5, 6XL pants and shorts. The fatter I get, the more my man enjoys stretching a huge waistband band round me and pulling an enormous shirt down over my expansive fat belly. The fatter I get the tighter spaces become, the more I have to squeeze myself into booths, doors and cars. The fatter I get the bigger and wider everything needs to be to accommodate my growing fat body. The fatter I get the more my man and I take pride in my huge sexy fat body, my gaining and growth, the enormous fat man I am becoming, all the things I am out growing and becoming too big and fat for. The fatter I get the more rolls and folds of blubber I have, the more my belly reaches out in front of me and the softer and more blubber filled my chest gets. The fatter I get the wider my ass gets and the thicker my thighs get, the deeper my cock gets buried in my own blubber. The fatter I get the more stretch marks I get, extra rolls of blubber appear and every inch of my body gets softer. The fatter I get the more my man and I stand in front of the mirror and feel me all over, admire my body, play with my thick heavy rolls, hug and squeeze my mountain of blubber, we both love every lb of my growing fat body and only want to see me grow bigger, never want to see me loose it. The fatter I get the lazier I become, the harder my man has to work to get me off. The fatter I get, the more every inch of my huge fat body wobbles, jiggles and bounces when he does, the fatter I get the more time we spend in bed, the more he wants to play with me and the more sexual attention I need and get. The fatter I get the more my man wants to squeeze my rolls, bounce my belly, grab my fat ass. The fatter I get the heavier I become all over, the more we have to adjust the way we play and have sex to accommodate my growth. We change our regular positions so I have to shift my huge, fat body less, we lift my belly into place so it rests on top of him, we both break a sweat much easier and he has to heave and grunt as his muscles work against my flabby super-sized body. He assures me no matter how fat I get, the sex between us will only get better as I grow for both of us. I fatter I get the more I realize I don’t just want to be fat, I want to be huge. The fatter I get, the more I rub my belly and wish it were bigger, admire my chest and want it bigger, softer flabbier, each time I notice a new roll of blubber on my body I want to grow it into even more. The fatter I get the more I admire how my body moves, how it wobbles, jiggles and bounces all over turns me on second to none, growing fatter makes me hungrier and hornier than ever before. I realise that desire can only be satisfied by eating more and gaining more and growing more. That is what I want and what I need.
Ben stood in front of the full length mirror, backing up a few steps to fit his whole body in the frame. After two years of steady weight gain, he barely recognised the fat man staring back at him. His eyes worked up and down, taking in his immense size. He breathed in and out pushing his gut out as far as it would go and admiring the curviture of his body.
Looking down he saw nothing beyond his own swollen fat chest and belly stretched far out more than a foot in front. Even his nipples were long gone from view, folded into the roll of blubber on the other side of fat boy tits. He reached down, gathering as much of his heavy overhanging blubber into his arms as he could and lifting it to expose his crotch to the mirror. He remembered when I first told him I wanted him too big to jerk himself off, how excited I was watching his manhood progressively shrink into his fat rolls. He tried to free one arm to reach down and see what was left but his overhanging belly spilled out of his remaining arm burying his crotch under a roll of blubber. He grunted, taking a deep breath and thinking about trying again but laziness and the warning signs of impending hunger were taking over. He turned slightly letting the middle fold of his fat torso, just over his love handles deepen and tracing the stretch marks with his fingers all the way up to his chest.
Ben pushed his tits together, feeling the softness and his sensitive stretched out nipples. He grabbed a handful of the each of the sides and jiggled the fat, smiling to himself. Fuck I wish these were bigger he thought, envying the chest size and pure flabbiness of record breaking fat men he spent hours browsing online at. Tits were a major focus point of ours, he loved how much attention I gave them, squeezing his chest rolls through his shirt when we were out in public to get his attention, lifting his shirt while I embraced him knowing I would be deep in his chest in a fraction of a second my tongue in the fold between them and the top of his gut, sucking and biting on his nipples so he would squirm, making all his blubber shake and bounce between us and turning me like nothing else.
I stood leaning on the door frame of our bedroom, admiring my fat boy lost in himself, appreciating my work fattening him up and playing with his own blubber. I don’t want to waste my time telling you about me on his big day. Five foot seven, 255lbs somewhere about half of Ben’s weight, meaty, footballer player build with plenty of it in my thighs and ass, shaved head with a few days stubble. I had started out the lighter of the two of us but that lasted not even a month of our regular routine of drive through visits, morning donuts and late night binges, me rubbing his belly and massaging his chest as he ate.
I watched Ben knowing what was going through his mind, how into his own body he had become the last year. The rolls the folds, the softness, how he bounces and wobbled all over every time he moved now. But what really turned him on the most was just how much he had grown, the limitations imposed by his own size, how much space his new body took up and how far his huge belly stretched out far in front of him. That really penetrated deep into Ben’s mind, was what he found most enjoyable and what kept him piling on the lbs . We were both always exchanging glances and laughing to each other when he tried to waddle through spaces, bumping furniture with his fat ass that he would have cleared with inches to spare just a year ago or when he reached out, bending down to retrieve something, forgetting he was a fat boy now, his huge mass of belly fat freezing him midway and making him grunt and call for my help.
I watched him a few mins more as he enjoyed himself exploring his body, I had no doubt he was as heavily aroused by playing with himself as I was watching him. His cock however was completely hidden from view, deep under that enormous belly overhang and buried in pubic fat while mine tented prominently leaving a wet patch on the front of my gym shorts. Only the way he started at himself in the mirror smiling and staring intently gave it away. I waited maybe 10 seconds before I could stand it no longer and slipping through the half open door, I had to get my hands on my fat boy.
It was easy to sneak up on him from behind. His body blocked the whole mirror and he was distracted playing with himself. Slipping my arms around his lower back roll just above his ass I embraced my fat boy in a hug from behind, squeezed gently against the rolls of blubber and pushed the sides of his gut up, something I know he liked because it made him look fatter. Ben turned sideways, bringing my muscled frame into view alongside his own in the mirror.
“What the fuck have you done to me?!?” he grunted out in his heavy midwestern accent.
-“I don’t know what you’re talking about”
“This!” He grunted again, picking up the furthest section of his gut in his chubby hands, a mass of blubber that he had put on in the last few months that hung lower the rest and letting it fall. “I’m fucking huge, have you seen me lately”
-“Yeah, I’ve noticed you put on a few lbs this week” I replied squeezing deeper and making all his rolls of fat wobble and bounce off each other.
“Will you stop enjoying yourself for a minute measure me?”
“It’s always about you, isn’t it...” I laughed back
-“Okay don’t then, just stay there all day, letting me go hungry” he answered back, his eyes returning to our reflection in the mirror. Ben rolled his shoulders back and letting out something between a grunt and a growl, he leaned forward, pushing his mammoth gut out as far as it would go and spreading his ass cheeks. Pretending to stretch he leaned back trapping the wet patch of my gym shorts between his beach ball sized ass cheeks. He lowered his voice and locked my eyes in the mirror.
-‘Please baby...I feel so much fatter”
“Alright, let me get the tape”
I pulled my hands slowly from under his gut and walked across the room, leaving him to admire himself a few moments more. I stepped over a pair of 6XL shorts with a jock strap tanged inside and to my beside table. It was covered in remnants of last nights fun. I screwed the lid back on a tube of lube and tucked it out of view. I grabbed a series of wrappers, rolled them into a ball and went to stuff them in a three tub stack of Ben and Jerry’s.
-“Don’t waste that!” I heard Ben holler across the room.
“What?”
-“The last of that tub, Don’t waste it!”
I looked inside at a third of tub of congealed ice cream and chocolate, sloppy and sticky, I stirred the gross bit at the top into the molten chocolate and cream with a spare spoon.
“I thought you finished all last night?”
-“Nope bring it here”
Holding the sticky tub of ice cream remains in one hand I pulled open the drawer and dug around for the 120’ tape I kept handy. Grabbing it with one hand, I dumped the trash into the pile in our bedside trash can. “Come on!” I heard a grumpy, impatient Ben say from the other side of the room. I couldn’t tell if he wanted the ice cream or the tape more. He had gotten so fucking greedy recently. Anything I put in front of him disappeared within minutes. I regularly came home to an empty fridge and a pile of garbage on the counter.
I walked across the room and stood in front on him his gut pressed up to my flat stomach. Ben stared at me and then at the ice cream, visibly drooling and licking his lips, silently ordering me to feed it it to him. I raised the sticky tub to his mouth as he tilted his head back, the fat mass under his chin moving to the roll at the back of his head where his neck used to be. The liquid mess sliding down the wax side of the tub and into his waiting mouth within a fraction of a second it was in his belly resting comfortably on top of a still half full belly from last night. he licked the rim of the tub, catching the last drips of melted ice cream. Tossing the tub aside, I returned to Bens body, examining the mass of blubber I knew every inch of. He was right, his gains had been out of control recently, visibly fatter almost everywhere.
“Okay, lets do this” I said looping the tape around his back. He smiled back at me, my happy growing fat boy, shifting himself so he could me wrap the tape around his girth. “Here hold this” I said, Ben dutifully responding by pinning the metal tab of the tape to his fat gut just next to his belly button with his chubby finger. He wasn’t the flabbiest of fat guys, but it still sank into his belly blubber a half inch. He was far too fat for me to reach round and grab the tape, so I walked round him securing the tape in the one gap between his copious rolls of fat just at his lower back. Stretching it round the other side, making sure it was over his biggest flab roll and didn’t slip between them. It sounds hard but after dozens of times in the last two years I had perfected the motion. I laughed a little and Ben knew why. Doing this always made me think back to when he was in the mid 200’s and it was a quick 10 second Sunday morning job. Reaching his belly button, my fingers fumbling over the deep hole in an ocean of blubber, my cock twinged and I took the other tab, ignoring the dirty thoughts in my mind.
“Relax” I said and he let his hands fall and rest on his side. “101.4”
-“No way, check again”
“ I’m telling you, it’s 101”
-“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure, how many times have I done this, almost every week for two years, you baby... are 100 inches of pure blubber”
-“Here let me see” he tried to look down, shifting gaze down, expanding his belly girth and making the tape pop from my fingers’ I laughed
“You know better than that, don’t you trust me?”
-“Yes of course, I trust you, I knew it was coming, i just wanted to see it for my self, WOW... 100 fucking inches round, that’s fucking amazing, it’s really great, I never thought... Well I knew we were almost there but I still can’t believe it”
Ben looked so excited, like all his dreams had come true, he put his hands on me, pulling me in as close as a man with a 100’ gut can. I let me body sink into the flabby fat mountain that was a severely obese Ben. I reached my hands round as far as they would go leaving a 2 foot gap spread across his love handles and back. As I pulled him close his belly between us pushed his huge fat boy tits up into his face and kissed him. Silly fat boy, I could still taste chocolate ice cream on his tongue. Ben forced his thick greedy tongue into the back of my mouth with the same force that he used when demolished slices of cake and chewed donuts.
-“I love you”he panted through his usual heavy laboured breaths.
We seldom had heavy make out sessions standing, it was just too difficult to get around all the blubber in his belly, tits and neck rolls. He took the hint and waddled over to the bed his ass cheeks colliding into each other as he took each step. Collapsing on the bed his ocean of body fat wobbling, he shifted his massive weight and heaved his butt on to the protesting mattress. We we’re one of those noisy couples the downstairs neighbours, if we had any, would hate. As many extra slats and reinforcements I had added to the bed, even bolting it to the floor, we went through two mattresses in the last year and I couldn’t stop metal springs screaming under Ben’s weight as he shifted to get comfortable.
Using his lard buried muscles he shifted his body back an inch at time, breathing heavy and making every pound of blubber wobble and bounce until he found a comfortable spot. His body spread out coving an area about four feet wide. Ben’s tits rolled to the side almost touching the mattress beneath him and allowing him to rest his hands just above his gut, somewhere where his ribs would be if they weren’t buried deep. He hugged his own body and smiled in ecstasy, mediating on his own huge size, how he never felt sexier and one of his ultimate dreams finally being reality.
I climbed on top starting at his overhang worked my way upwards, tickling his side rolls with my tongue and making him squirm and wiggle, his stretch marked skin visibly struggling like swollen a fat filled ballon, more moisturiser needed on those spots during our nightly pre bed routine, I made a mental note. I settled for a moment on his three inch wide nipples, nuzzling my face into those fat filled manboobs. Some guys nipples remained the same as they grew, Ben’s had always stretched outwards, expanding to their current size as his chest swelled up with one of the most impressive sized pair of fat boy tits I had ever seen on a man. I didn’t know it that natural or from all our heavy nipple play, the hour or so I spent enjoying them as he dug into pints of ice cream every evening. He moaned hard and moaned harder again as I sucked on them, biting gently, he shifting his hips so his under belly rolls and swollen fat pad rubbed against his buried cock. Something I really preferred he didn’t do during our nightly feeding sessions as it quickly exerted him, wasting energy and precious calories, but had become irresistible to Ben as our session got hotter and heavier and he simply gotten too big for me to reach both his cock and chew his hyper sensitive nipples at once.
I really didn’t want Ben getting too worked up this early in the morning, so I moved swiftly upwards to his neck roll and second, (maybe third?) chin. I really couldn’t tell generally there was one thick roll of blubber circling what had been his neck that restricted him tilting his head too far forward or back, but when he lay down with a big happy grin plastered on his chubby face, or laughed as my tongue tickled his blubber rolls a third smaller one appeared and disappeared.
“You know...” I said resting my head on his chest. “It’s really just a number, it’s not like everything you gained until now is any different” Ben gave me his massively overfed puppy dog, why did you stop eyes. The same pleading look he always gave me since he had both grown well beyond pleasuring himself in any meaningful or satisfying way and become far too lazy to even try.
-“Yeah... it’s a big number”
“A fucking huge number, three digits” I teased back, playing with my fat boy, rolling the blubber from where it had pooled on the opposite side of his chest, so it resembled its usual fat self, with half of Ben’s nipple hidden and the tip rubbing off the edge of his under tit roll.
-“You know I don’t want to stop, I love everything about this” he panted, reaching down and grabbing his under belly roll with both hands, easier now gravity wasn’t fighting him, he hugged his massive roll of overhang close to his body.
“Don’t worry” I laughed, “it’s not going anywhere, and I’m incredibly proud of you. You’re my prize fat boy, huge and perfect in every way.”
-“Good, I worried you were going soft on me” he grunted back to his normal gruff self, releasing his overhang roll of blubber back to rest on to his thighs and slapping his belly, sending a ripple through the soft, doughy outer most layer of his immense fat belly. “I know you’re into this as much as I am, I see you staring at this thing, practically drooling”
“Yeah, me go soft on you, I spent all morning at the gym. Only one of us goes soft, in this house” I laughed sticking my finger into the deep hole in a sea of blubber that was once a belly button.
-“So are we going out to celebrate”
“Of course”
-“When?”
“Now, if you’re hungry???” Now it was his turn to laugh.
-“How many years now, 2-3? When have I ever not been hungry, this thing is constantly rumbling, I’ve been sitting here half the morning waiting for you to come back. I hope you picked up food.” The man could focus on only two things, his cock, his belly or in most cases both. For the record I had never neglected to walk through the front door without a hot, greasy bag of something fried, rolled in sugar and served in a family size container. Not once in two fucking years had I let the gas gauge in my truck or my my partner’s insatiable gut hit the half empty mark.
“There’s a tray of cinnamon rolls in the kitchen, with a cup of extra Jizz and one of those half and half blended coffees milkshakes you like” but don’t fill up. I want to go out to lunch.
-“Okay, sure. Just bring me two to snack on while I get ready.
I had Ben sitting on the edge of the bed, sucking calories from a cup of syrup and half and half the size of a bucket. Getting a guy his size ready to go was a time consuming task. Showering him down on a metal bench we had built specially and was capable of holding twice his weight was the most time consuming part. Mostly because he would spread his legs and let his belly hang down between them and I couldn’t help parking my stiff cock in his belly button now it was no longer confined to tight gym shorts. But we had gotten every inch of him scrubbed down and into the roomiest pair of grey sweat pants I could find in his drawer of clothes that looked too big and oversized to fit anyone else, but on Ben nestled not quite snuggly enough to show off all of my fat boys rolls to the extent I liked but enough so they stayed up without him having to keep tugging on the waistband as his rolls made their usual seemingly independent efforts to wobble and bounce out of the clothing covering a man that was clearly too fat to be wearing anything at all.
I always waited to help Ben dress before I put on my own clothing, he enjoyed a naked muscle bound chaser manhandling him into clothes, hugging his belly and squeezing his love handles as we went and I didn’t have to get my own T-shirt damp and sweaty as I helped him manoeuvre the rolls of flesh into clothing and get him to his feet. “Hey what shirt do you want” Ben pulled back hard on the straw taking a mouthful of cream into his bulging chubby cheeks as he considered his options.
-Whichever one you want” he splurged, catching a splodge of whipped cream with his tongue and pulling it back into his mouth. I grabbed a thin white T-shirt from the top of the pile and pulled the almost empty cup Ben was digging around for the last drips of cream in from his grasp. He grunted, unsatisfied with being denied the pool of sweet fattening goodness at the bottom of his cup.
“Come on we need to get moving”
-Alright, lay it on me” he said impatiently.
I gathered up the handfuls of the sheet sized cotton shirt into my fists, pulling it over his arm and head. I negotiated the shirt down over his chest, adjusting his fat tits as I went and pulling it to the bottom of his belly where it stretched even thinner. It looked too small, the fabric stretching as Ben breathed in and out, but I knew once we got him standing we would be good. I slipped on his socks and sneakers and held out my forearms for him to grab.
“Come on baby, time to go”
Ben rocked back and forth twice, although his ass, chest and thighs were all massive most of his weight resided firmly in his fat belly, when standing he looked almost spherical, an immense fat blob with a head and limbs. He was getting to the stage where even with my help he some momentum to get himself off the edge of the bed. Ben’s feet hit the floorboards causing them creak and dip a fraction of an inch. I let go of his forearms, bracing myself as his weight pushed me backwards and I caught the side of his gut taking a few dozen pounds of weight off his leg muscles.
“You good baby?”
-“Yeah, I got this” he huffed. “All good”
“First step is the hardest” I replied, rocking his flab back and forth, letting his legs adjust to taking his body weight. Ben reached a standing position his gut still hanging down, he extended his legs, taking the full weight of his belly and returning it to its normal position outstretched far in front of him. I reached round the back of his sweat pants, pulling them up over his ass fat and adjusting the elastic waistband to fit between two of his back rolls, before I tucked the front firmly under his overhanging gut. I pulled down the cotton shirt over his gut, barely hiding it from view under the thin, stretched fabric. He wobbled from left to right letting it adjust to all his rolls and folds.
“God you’re an immense fat hog” I said out loud without thinking.
-“Yup” Ben smiled back, “I really am, aren’t I? Now get your own clothes on, I can’t fucking stand here sweating all day. This 100’ tank needs filling” He pushed me out of the way with his gut and huffing and puffing reached past me to grab the cup I had left on the table by the bed. Knocking the top off with his chubby fat fingers, he stared unblinking at the clump of cream and chocolate syrup like a bright shining prize at the bottom that almost escaped him. He brought it to his lips letting the mass of calories slide into his waiting fat face. He pulled it back rolling his tongue over his face to catch most of the rim of chocolate on chin roll and held it up examining it to make sure there was nothing left at the bottom. A small drip of chocolate syrup left on the rim of the plastic slowly fell, leaving a sticky tail between the cup and Bens clean white shirt. He shrugged and tossed it in the mounting pile of trash. I had my jeans and shirt on by then and was just wrestling with the last boot.
-“Okay” he grunted, turning his momentarily satisfied belly towards the door “let’s get out of here”
As Ben had proved serious about about meeting our goals it had quickly become necessary to trade my old house down to a rambling ranch style one with wider hallways and a total of three steps, one in the garage and two on the front front porch. I also took out the old enclosed shower and retiled the bathroom, remodelling our home to better accommodate my baby’s growing body and more limited mobility had become a fun past time. He would park his ass in an extra wide recliner, his belly over the edge of the arm rests of the chair and watch football in the living room, a sport I had never gotten into, coming from outside the USA. Yelling at the big screen Tv through mouthfuls of nachos and fried chicken, or working his way from one end of a giant burrito bigger than my forearm from this place nearby he loved and washed down with plenty of beer he often watched two or three games in a row his fat chins bobbing up and down, his mouth working overtime on his supply of game day snacks as his piggy guys were fixed squarely on meaty football players asses and trim waistlines as they ran around the field. While he enjoyed his me time, I would work on our older style home, shirtless and with a tool belt slung over my hips I retiled the bathroom, expanded the door ways, added a few extra reinforcements to our bed.
Ben waddled through the living room passed his recliner, his mammoth ass cheeks looking like two jelly filled beach balls bouncing off each other other trying to knock him off balance, it was only the forward pull of the weight from his belly that kept his momentum going forward once the started waddling in any direction. He paused for a moment to catch his breath by the front door, leaning on the wall, waiting for me to open it. Walking out into the drive and the door of the truck the sun caught his forehead and eyes, and he started to get visibly uncomfortable almost immediately, beads of sweat rolled down his fat cheeks and multiple chins. Ben spent almost all his time in doors, enjoying comfortable air conditioning that was necessary for a guy his size. He hated being warm and grumbled lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off and exposing his round fat belly and even fatter man tits for anyone who happened to be walking down our street or in their front lawns. I swear he made them jiggle a little extra on purpose as he wiped his forehead, making a patch of his shirt even more see through. I had the engine running and the A/C on full blast in the truck waiting for him, he just needed my help to get in it. He manoeuvred his backside to the edge of the seat and, one foot on the extra heavy duty running board the auto shop and installed in my truck and a firm grasp on the side handle he pulled himself up six inches.
-“Unnnmmmpphhh... I can’t get up, help me”
“Yeah you can” I replied, wrapping my arms under the sweaty over hang of belly flab and taking some of the weight off his leg until he could the edge of his huge ass on to the leather seat and his second leg up. Grunting like an animal and using every ounce of strength he had he, with me taking a good few lbs of weight off by holding his belly, Ben edged his ass back two inches at a time until he was into the seat.
I kept the passenger seat permanently back as far and as low as it would go. Ben was as short as I was and had lost a few inches as he grew outwards and sideways. Even so the the 10 inch thick layer of blubber that cushioned his ass basically had the effect similar to sitting on a stack of phone books, lifting him up an extra half a foot and left him with a lone inch or two of head room. The leather seat did a good job of cushioning his back fat into a comfortable position and although there was no way in hell it could contain his love handles we had done a pretty long road trip last month without him needing to get out and stretch too often. Flying anywhere was out of the question for us. The problem was likely to be his belly which was almost at the edge of his knees when he spread apart his legs apart and was fast approaching the dashboard. I could see his shirt had ridden up exposing his belly button which was about 4 inches from the passenger side glove box, I had to have him hold his gut back to open the time I forgot it was unusable with Ben in the truck. Ben relaxed shifting his butt back and catching his breath, feeling the cool blow of the air conditioning on his sensitive nipples through a paper thin shirt that was already damp from wiping himself.
-“Let’s go, I’m hungry” he cheered now that he was comfortable, slapping his gut and making the whole thing wobble again.
“You got it bubba!” I replied back with the same enthusiasm, leaning over to plant one on my sweaty whale sized, mountain of fat husband to show I appreciated his efforts leaving the house. “You’re so fucking cute when we go out, you know that”
-“Am I?”
It was a short drive to the restaurant, me trying to keep my focus on the road and not get distracted by the “oomph” that came from the passenger seat every time I hit a dip in the road and Ben’s body responded accordingly his whole body wobbling and bouncing. When we got to the restaurant, I pulled the truck up right out front across a double wide handicapped space. Out was a lot easier than in and Ben didn’t even wait for me to get around to open the door, before scooting his ass to the edge and landing his round globular body out onto the sidewalk. My truck suspension moaned and returned to its upright position as my heavyweight passenger side cargo unloaded itself impatient for more food. The smell of frying grease from the kitchen out back hung in the air, making Ben take deep inhaling breaths. He began to drool slightly and without thinking ran his hand over his stomach, rubbing his belly hungrily like he was warming it up, getting it ready to accept an in human quantity of fattening food and really make a pig of himself.
Ben waddled inside pushing the wooden doors open with his gut, making one slam loudly against the door stop. I always let him enter first, the man was a sight to behold. Huge out stretched gut, the top firm and doughy, the overhanging bottom a soft blubbery roll of jello that never stopped moving and refused to stay covered by any shirt we could buy. An impressive set of tits, bigger than any women’s implants but unmistakably pure natural lard, rolling over the top of his gut and continuing all the way round to his upper back. I liked to watch people react, it was a family place. Women always looked grossed out, sometimes sympathetic, shaking their heads often dropping their forks or pushing their own food away. Men starred, mostly impressed that a guy that big could move so swiftly. Ben barged his away across the room without noticing any stares. I told you... two track mind, his belly, cock or both. Once Ben started moving he didn’t stop until he got where he wanted to be. The effort showed on him, breathing heavy, grunting as he moved. Seldom bothering to excuse himself, he grunted it inaudibly out between laboured breaths the time his enormous ass bumped a table and knocked a glass of water to the floor. Resembling something between a half waddling, half lumbering lardass he hauled his body across the room, making floorboard creak and any remaining patrons give up pretending not to look. His body wanted him to take breaks, but his mind was determined to get his ass in a chair and he relied on momentum to keep him going once he stared. It was a lot easier to just keep going than to get him moving again once he stopped to lean on a wall and catch his breath.
We grabbed a table in the far corner where we could make camp for a few hours undisturbed. Ben pushed two chairs together and slid his ass between them and the table. A hundred lbs of Ben ass forced the chairs back a couple of inches as he lowered his bulk down, the legs scraping and leaving marks on the wooden floor. His extended belly prevented him from getting too close to the table. At home Ben preferred to balance a plate on his belly, using his gut and a table and shortening the distance between the plate and his mouth considerably. When we were out he behaved him self a little more leaning forward to shovel big mouth fulls into his waiting mouth.
I took a seat across the table and admired my fat boy. Sitting there looking huge and sexy, catching his breath, rubbing his gut. They always gave us the same waitress, I tipped her $100 cash upfront and ordered us drinks, a half gallon of Rootbeer for Ben, iced water for me. Ben picked up the tankard and chugged it down and in a matter of seconds she was back with a second.
“Are you doing okay over there bubba?”
-“Yeah, just winded” he huffed, wiping sweat with his napkin. I wanted him to do it with his shirt again so I could admire his belly some more. “Where’s the food?”
“Coming” I laughed, reaching over rubbing my hand down his gut and slowly towards his crotch.
The waitress returned with a plate of piled high with fried appetisers, a board of pizza slices, a tray of chicken and beef skewers each of them family sized. Along with a pint of ranch dressing. It was easier to order one side of the menu than to slow ourselves down ordering specifics. She put a large milkshake with whip cream on the top in front of Ben. He liked to alternate between sweet and salty so he could eat longer without his taste buds getting bored.
Ben leaned forward grabbing a slice of pizza, wrapping it round a fried cheese stick and dunking it in the ranch dressing it up, scooping it along the bowl to give it a heavy coating. He lifted the greasy, dripping morsel to his mouth, opened wide and deposited inside, following it quickly with a second. His cheeks full, he groaned deeply and sexually, enjoying his food.
Ben worked at pace through the first three platters, mixing up the food to his taste, experimenting with the salty and greasy flavours. Lubricating the dry, breaded, fried goodness with a second and a third bowl of ranch dressing so it slid down into his throat into his insatiable cavernous gut. He interspaced the appetisers with blasts of cold frosted milkshake, leaning back and letting his gut spread out, settle and taking long laboured slugs, filling his cheeks with thick cream milkshake and swallowing it on top of the mouthfuls of junk food. It usually took him about an hour of steady eating before he slowed down. He kept piling greasy fattening appetisers on top of large mouth fulls of milkshake until his gut began to resist the constant onslaught of fat and sugar he was forcefully shovelling down his throat. It was air conditioned but beads of sweat were rolling down Ben’s forehead from the exertion of eating.
-“I gotta do it man... I have to... I can’t stop” he grunted out between breaths. Wiping his sweat away.
“Do what?” I smiled back.
-“Get bigger, get fatter. You have no idea how good this feels. it’s everything I ever wanted” he lifted the furthest flabbiest roll of blubber on the edge of his out stretched belly that seemed to be trying to separate itself from the rest of his body and let it flop down on top of his thick thighs, taking a moment to settle and stop wobbling.
Ben reached forward gathering up all the spare cubes on meat and scraps of breading that remained from a spread big enough to satisfy a half dozen people into a pile on the plate in front of him and smashing it into one lump with his first. He picked it up what remained and deposited it into mouth, rolling it round to lubricate it with drool and swallowed hard.
-“Unnnnnufff... I love... so good, so huge and fat... want more” he mumbled his eyes closed. it was more than I could take. I swapped chairs so I was by his side. The edge of his belly roll pressed up against my thigh. I lifted the edge of the outermost flab roll of his belly up and let it rest on the side of my lap so I could get closer. I reached my hand across and began to rub the top of his gut, right at the swollen, tight part where his stomach was buried. My mind wandered back to the first time we had done this, same table, a third of the food, a much skinnier, unrecognisable Ben.
-“Thanks baby... that feels good”
“Don’t mention it, you able to handle desert?”
“Of course, just give me a couple of minutes to rest”
Ben’s physiology had adapted to his massive binging sessions, he was still the same country boy that could eat and be hungry thirty minutes later, just with a bigger stomach and a fuck ton more food. I handed him his refilled tankard of iced rootbeer, knowing it would cleanse his palate and help dinner settle in his belly. Eyes still closed, I helped him guide it to his lips and loosing the last of his politeness he chugged the icy cold soda down, letting drips spill out of the corner of his mouth and down his chins. I reached up swiftly with a napkin catching the drips.
-“Uhhh thanks... I totally needed that... this stuff is heavy” he nodded at a table covered in empty plates, three empty stacked bowls of ranch, milkshake glasses sucked dry with a cherry stem stuck too the side, I ate the cherries, Ben didn’t like them. I kept rubbing the top of his gut, letting him begin digesting thousands of calories.
-“Uhhhhhh... good” he moaned” leaning back far and starting to do his favourite trick again, pushing his hips forward slightly so his under belly roll rubbed off his cock and he was able to jerk off without touching himself. He moaned again louder, the combined feeling of a full belly sloshing round and the pressure of his bulging soft under belly rolls rubbing against his cock driving his mind to dark places. Ben leaked when he ate to full, giving him the ability to jerk himself to completion if he wanted.
“Stop that, I know what you’re doing...you’re being really loud. I’ll get you off later!” He ignored me.
“Baby, If you don’t stop that right now, we can leave without desert.” Ben’s ears pricked up, already feeling an empty space at the top of his gut forming that would perfectly fit a couple of slices of pie or an ice cream sundae. Rounding out another meal, he didn’t want to leave.
The waitress cleared the table and deposited two thick double slices of pie and a 8 scoop ice cream sundae ‘to share’ I prepaid the check tipping her again to leave us alone. I didn’t know how long Ben would take to force these down. Finished with cutlery and tired of having to leaning forward to reach the table passed his gut Ben scooted his hips down forcing the top of his belly horizontal. it was harder for him to breath with it in this position but easier to eat. The back of the chair strained taking the shift in weight and the rolls at the backside of his Ben’s love handles splitting down the middle and half swallowing the back of the chair. He balanced the plate on the now flat top of his gut and picked up the whole slice of pie with his chubby fingers being careful not to crush it. Rubbing it in whipped cream, he brought it to his mouth. His features were’ almost indistinguishable as he shoved the slice in his face chewing and swallowing. His thick neck roll all the way around, bulging out at his ears, his chubby inflated cheeks, his short piggy nose he took deep breaths in and out of that made his tits wobble and threatened to knock the plate off his chest were all swollen up, each fighting for space. He worked his well trained lips and tongue around the slices of pie, getting a remarkable amount into his mouth and only a few crumbs on the shirt.
By the time both pie slices had disappeared Ben had well and truly lost the will to feed himself. Unable to shift his body or the chairs that anchored him solidly to the floor even an inch back, I pulled the table forward from where it had began to press against his belly.
“You know I love you right bubba”
-“Unf... yeah”
“100 inches... I’m so proud”
-Unf... yeah...” he shifted his weight a tiny fraction of an inch again, before giving up moaning, knowing there was no comfortable position to take the pressure off his gut. I loved when he reached the compliant monosyllabic stage of fullness and gluttony.
I picked up a spoonful of ice cream, bringing it to his mouth. He moaned again, pushing his lips apart and accepting the ice cream. We continued, him accepting tiny spoonfulls of chocolate, strawberry, caramel, vanilla ice cream compared to usual heaped spoonfuls covered in cream and syrup he usually shovelled in. Ben ate at the slowest pace I had ever seen him. His closed his eyes and after a while just kept them closed, moaning and muttering “please” and “more.’ I lost track of time and the last third of Ben’s Ice cream melted into a puddle at the bottom of the serving dish. The restaurant completely emptied out. We kept having to take 5 min breaks while I rubbed his belly until he was able to speak a little.
“Fuckkkk... I’m so full, please baby... please, I have to get fatter”
“Is there more left, please... I like the chocolate, I really like it, is there any more?”
“One... hundred... fucking.... inches, it feels so good. Thank you baby”
I was scraping the bottom of the dish, sad that the end was coming, but there would be many more. Ben had a way still to go, he was determined to gain and loved every lb of blubber we added to his growing fat body more than the last. I was downing my second espresso, getting the energy together to start the trip home. Ben laying back in his two chairs, eyes closed, breathing in and growling like bull as he exhaled. he might have be asleep even.
“Okay”
I said growling at him, getting to my own feet and feeling stiff after what must have been at least three hours.
“Time to go big boy” he nodded and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms and planting his feet for leverage. His ass made it a whole inch up from the seat of both chairs, the joints springing back into their original unburdened position before his fat ass came crashing back down, seriously threatening to collapse the things entirely. We tried again and the same thing happened, Ben’s leg muscles just not strong enough to bring his food filled body to a standing position.
“I think we may have over done it” I said. About 20 mins had passed since he had finished the ice cream and the most painful part of Ben’s fullness had subsided.
-“Haha... yeah... I guess we did.” He laughed back. “What do we do now?”
“Stay for dinner”, I suggested, only half joking. I was always pushing Ben’s limits, both physically and mentally.
-“Yeah, that’s an option, but I want to have some us time. Okay....help me get these chairs back and lets try once more, third time lucky. Will you do me a favour when we get home”
“Sure baby, anything.”
-“Will you get the tape out again, I want to be sure”
Gainer fiction @blubberchaser - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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