I'd always been fairly thin and twinky, maintaining a weight of 132lbs or 60kg at a height of 175cm.
Until I decided to one day go 'fuck it. It's time to give gaining a go.' So I did. I got a job in an office and upped my eating. Over the following year and a half, I gained to 187lb, or 85kg.
After this I made a few half-hearted attempts to slim down, and I did a little, but my body wouldn't let me return. I stabilised at around 176, or 80kg. This didn't bother me, I loved my new body. I would maintain this weight for years until
The gaining bug bit me again, and hard. I gained up to 209 or 95kg within the space of a year. After stopping, my weight stabilised at 90kg and wouldn't go down from there. Once again, this didn't bother me. Being plump and heavy was a beautiful new experience that I was enjoying immensely.
I didn't stop there though. I kept going, and gained up to 226lbs or 103kg. I was bigger than I'd ever been. I'd blimped out of my clothes and into new sizes. I felt the weight change the way my body moved, the way my fattened thighs rubbed on each other when I walked. My belly became a slab of flab which spilled out heavily in front of me, the weight of it constant and ever present. My tits had ballooned with flesh, filling out my shirts with fattened mounds. All the efforts of my overfeeding were with me at all times, ever present, tactile and a constant reminder of my deliberate overconsumption.
I once again, paused gaining. I'm maintaining around 209 or 95kg now, which doesn't seem to want to shift. I've effectively changed the set-point of my body and where it wants to be. That's fine. I'm better this way and haven't had a single regret. Let's see where the future takes me.
