Thank you to @erotiqeme for the inspiration for this story :)
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CW: forced weight gain, trickery, mention of drugs
You gulped nervously. You were staring at your feeder's list of rules, gawping at your signature at the bottom. You didn't remember signing this.
You were never thin. At around 200 lbs, you would be considered overweight, but with your tall stature, that weight was somewhat evenly distributed. You never felt fat per se. Maybe thick. You've lived in your body and you never had issues with mobility, or getting out of breath.
You met your feeder online, and by some miracle it turned out they lived close to you. It felt like a match made in heaven. And then one day, you had a relaxing night with some heavier substances; you hazily remembered talking about fast and serious weight gain... but you didn't remember signing the rules.
You read through them again.
Five meals per day, no exceptions. Every meal has to be 1000 calories (for a start).
Mandatory 3 snacks per day in between meals.
You have to track how many steps per day you take. You shouldn't go above 200. If you do, you'll eat an additional snack for every 100 steps taken.
You will eat your last meal just before bed.
Every drink has to have calories in it.
No other physical activity whatsoever.
Weekly weigh-in mandatory.
If any rule is broken, there will be punishment. Depending on the severity of the offense, it will be either an additional meal or a funnel feeding.
You gulped again. You were starting to realize you were fucked.
You sat on the sofa, panting. Your stomach felt painfully tight. It's been 3 days, and you felt constantly full and bloated. You were lethargic. You tried resisting to some of the feedings, but it only earned you being tied to a chair and force-fed an additional dessert.
And then at the end of the week, you were weighed, and it turned out you gained 5 pounds. In one week.
You rocked yourself to a standing position. It took you two tries. Your belly drooped low over your waistband and you honestly thought about going right back to bed. You felt so heavy. You had just crossed 400 pounds. With the lack of physical exercise and the gruelling regimen of meals (they long ago increased from their initial size), you were pathetically unfit.
"Where are you, fatty?" your feeder's voice came from the kitchen. "Breakfast's waiting!"
"I - huff - coming!" you wheezed and begun the painful process of waddling out of your bedroom. You positioned your legs far apart, but the insides of your thighs still touched.
You never realized just how gruelling it would be to get so fat so quickly. Having been used to a bit of extra weight, you underestimated the power of your newfound flabby, double-rolled belly; your sack-of-flour upper arms; your thunder thighs; the fat surrounding your neck; your jiggling, flabby cheeks.
When you finally made it to the kitchen, you were panting and sweaty. Your feeder gave you a mischievous smile.
"Someone's gotten out of shape."
"Huff - you - feed me - huff - so well." You flopped on the reinforced kitchen chair and eyed a mountain of pancakes greedily. "Should - hh - eat breakfast in - huff - bed."
"Now now, are you saying you want to move even less?"
You blushed. Your limit these days was 100 steps per day, and you often didn't even get close to that. Stairs were a memory to you; you struggled to see the number when you stepped on the scale; and you couldn't tie your shoes at all. Every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone less and less recognizable.
And you knew: you weren't going to get any thinner. Your mobile, unimpeded life was in the past. You were a full-fledged fatty who could barely move around.
And you were slowly getting used to it.
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