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$LAYYYTER

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@blubberchaser
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Rob Unitiled, Chapter 3
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 Untitled, Chapter 2
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.
Rob, untitled, Chapter 1
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.
I only go to Disney world to spot cute chubby guys and fat dads
The fatter I get...
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.
One Hundred Inches
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.