Chase had considered himself popular until today. No-one had remembered his birthday, not his friends, not his family, no-one. To make himself feel better he drove to his favourite Mexican takeout for the first time in almost a year. The management had taken over and food hygiene has plummeted to the floor. He'd heard horror stories about how "Casa del Viento" tacos had randomly started turning family homes and frat houses alike into biohazard zones. But, it was his birthday and the loveable tacos from his childhood were all he craved.
He ate his fiery birthday meal in the silence of his car, willing the phone to buzz with a message from anyone. "This shit is so weird..." he muttered to himself, "No-one forgets my birthday normally. And the fact it's my 21st as well!" Chase scoffed at the phone and took a big chug of cola. He could already feel the bubbles mixing with the food as a low gurgle rumbled through his stomach.
Chase finished off the last of his overstuffed tacos, licking the spicy salsa off his fingers, before starting up the engine and heading home. The drive was about 45 minutes, which is part of the reason he doesn't go to Casa Del Viento often. His belly bubbled and fizzed as he coasted along. Every so often a warm, wet little fart slipped out, silent but deadly, filling the car with the unmistakable sharp tang of cheap tacos and cola. He cracked the window and chuckled to himself, "Damn, maybe I can't handle the spice as much as I used to."
But as the miles ticked by, the gurgles grew louder and more insistent. His stomach clenched suddenly, sending a hot, bloated pressure downward. Another fart escaped, this one louder, brassier. He shifted in the driver’s seat, trying to get comfortable, but the seatbelt pressed right against the swelling tightness in his gut.
“Fuck… maybe those tacos were a mistake,” he grumbled, one hand drifting down to rub his belly in slow circles.
Ten minutes later and Chase's face was flushed scarlet. "God, my stomach really doesn't feel right..." he muttered to himself through gritted teeth as a thin line of sweat coated his eyebrows. His guts grumbled again, forcing yet another wet, sputtering fart.
He was halfway home, but in front of him was a long road with too many traffic lights for peace-of-mind. Another cramp hit, sharper this time, making him lean forward slightly in the seat. “Fuck… fuck, come on, hold it together,” he whispered, one hand pressing firmly against his swollen belly. There was a hot, fiery pressure in his intestines now, and he knew those tacos were gonna be demanding their way out a lot sooner than he'd expected.
Chase swallowed hard, thinking about the mess he was probably gonna make of his toilet at home. "At least I've got the house to myself,” he thought, with another loud, wet fart exploding out uncontrollably. The desperation was setting in for real now: that awful, clenching panic that whispered he might not even make it that far. Red light. He slowed to a stop, thighs squeezed together, praying the light would hurry the hell up.
“Come on… come on, you piece of shit, turn green already,” he muttered under his breath. A deep, liquid groan rumbled from his belly. Immediately after a wet fart blasted out - hot, sputtering, and far too squelchy for comfort. The smell was vicious now, thick and eggy with that unmistakable fiery taco aftermath. He lifted his asscheek slightly as another gust of hot gas ripped out of his bowels. "Fuck, change! Go!"
After what felt like eternity, the light went green. He immediately throttled on the accelerator. "Fuuuckk!" he moaned as he lifted his arse off of the seat and another fart slipped out, "Come on!"
He was, at this point, way over the speed limit. A massive, wet fart exploded out of him as he sped through the next intersection. It was the kind of fart that vibrated against the seat and left no doubt something more than gas had just escaped. One hand flew down between his legs, pressing hard against his twitching hole through his shorts as he clenched it shut with all his glute strength. “Not yet! I'm almost home! Fuck! I don't know if I can hold it!”
Eventually, he pulled into his cul-de-sac, but there was a torrent of diarrhoea sat against the gateway to his nether-region. Every bump in the road made him jolt as the tsunami threatened to break through his sphincter. “Come on… come on, I can make it…” he muttered desperately, voice shaky, another wet fart ripping out.
Chase barely slowed down as he swung into his driveway, the tires kicking up a little gravel. The second he pulled the handbrake up, another brutal cramp slammed into him like a freight train. “Oh fuck- oh fuck!” he moaned desperately, his voice high and broken.
He scrambled out of the car, one hand flying straight back to clamp hard against his ass through his shorts. His legs were shook like jelly beneath him as he scrambled up the driveway. Juicy, splattering bursts rampaged out uncontrollably with every frantic step. “No no no no no! Please not now...” he whimpered, fumbling wildly for his keys in his pocket with his free hand while the other stayed glued to his clenching, twitching hole.
He jammed the key into his front door, sweat pouring down his face. Another wet blast forced its way out, accompanied by a sticky feeling already spreading in his underwear. The door finally clicked open. Chase practically fell inside, hand still clamped desperately against his ass, ready to bolt straight for the bathroom.
"SURPRISE!!!"
The living room lights flipped on. A giant “Happy 21st Chase!” banner was strung across the ceiling. There were a dozen familiar faces of his family and friends, all grinning and holding up drinks and gifts. Their cheers died instantly as they took in the sight of him: red-faced, sweating, bent over with one hand buried between his cheeks.
Then, the dam burst.
His hole gave up with zero warning. A loud, wet squelch exploded out of him as the massive, fiery payload finally burst free. Hot, liquid shit flooded into his shorts instantly, soaking through the fabric in heavy, unstoppable waves. It poured down the back of his legs in thick, chunky rivulets, splattering onto the entryway floor with wet, disgusting plops. The smell hit the room like a nuke, people gagging and looking away in horror.
Chase froze, eyes wide in horror, mouth open in a silent scream. Another heavy gush leaked out, running all the way down to his socks. His shorts were ruined, sagging heavily with the weight of his waste. A final weak fart bubbled through the mess with a sickening squelch.
The room fell silent, well, except the faint dripping sound.
Has anyone else seen the clips from Arthur Gea’s match at the French Open?? I recommend checking it out to anyone who hasn’t! Brief run down: the 21 year old French tennis player struggles to hold it in, with diarrhoea during his match. He keeps begging the umpire to let him go blow up the toilet, but they’re like inhumanely stubborn. Eventually they get a doctor out who says he can go if he’s really desperate and he runs off the pitch. Genuinely top tier desperation dialogue: “I feel it’s going to blow out”, “I can’t!” when the empire tells him to wait till after the match, and of course “I’m going to shit on the fucking court!”
A few of my personal notes on the situation:
His ass looked honestly amazing in those tight blue tennis shorts. 🤩 I wonder if the ball boy count hear it farting in revolt throughout the match
I like how watching the match, you can hear his tennis grunts turn into whimpers as he hits the ball
He said in the post-match interview that he’s been feeling ill throughout the lead up to the match, it could be food poisoning or maybe a stomach virus. That would be bad for the other players if it spreads and we end up seeing more of this kind of pleading. 👀 Most likely though, they’d start taking it more seriously and give the players less hassle when they’re asking to be excused.
- This story contains themes of extreme weight gain, including health issues and talk of immobility. If you don't like that, don't read. -
James pleaded with his boyfriend, he really did. A trip to the doctor's was just about the most humiliating situation he could imagine himself in at his size. Max forced him to go, he wouldn't take no for an answer and James always gave in to his boyfriend's requests, it's probably how he ended up so huge. Max told James that the doctor would be the safest place to go since his mountain of a boyfriend had struggled with getting out of bed by himself, and after getting stuck in the doorframe last week James had been sat in bed with little to no movement. He was hesitant to agree, but after his boyfriend mentioned grabbing McDonald's on the way back home it didn't take very long for James' buried cock to get hard and agree.
After snacking the whole car journey they had finally arrived at the doctors. James wanted to finish the rest of his donuts before he went inside but the great effort of getting his seatbelt done up put them behind schedule so Max said there was no time. Thankfully, they were able to get a good parking spot right next to the front door so there wasn't far to walk for the obese man, although James still needed a break before they even got his ass through the double doors. Once they entered the waiting room they could feel everyone's eyes locked on to the massive man stood before them. James was breathing as if he had just completed a marathon and while Max checked them in James sat his wide ass across two seats in the waiting room, protesting with a loud creak as they felt his weight. James was nervous, but he felt hungry more than anything, it was a long time that he'd gone so long without food and even longer since Max had fed him.
"James Parker?" called out the receptionist, "You're free to enter Room 103."
Thank God for that, James thought. He was lucky he got a room on the ground floor, he was in no condition to be climbing any steps. Waddling into the room was harder than he thought it would be but at least he had Max holding onto his back so he wouldn't fall over. The door was a tight squeeze but James could suck in just enough for his hips to slightly brush the doorframe as he entered and plopped his ass on the seats in the doctor's office. Max was left standing behind his mammoth boyfriend who took up both seats, he desperately tried to hide how horny he was.
The doctor assessed his patient for a few seconds, unsure of what to say after pulling up his previous records. "Well Mr. Parker, it seems you have gained quite a lot of weight since your last visit, your records show you at 317lbs two and a half years ago."
James shifted nervously causing the chairs to creak loudly from underneath him, he knew he was about to get scolded, he just hoped Max would be there to back him up.
"We need to get some updated measurements of you, can you step up on the scale for me please?" Ugh. That scale was all the way across the room and James had just gotten comfy. He didn't want to face the music and see how much he'd grown, he knew it was going to be bad anyways. He looked over to Max for reassurance.
"Come on big boy up you get." said his boyfriend as he pulled him up out of his chairs with a few failed attempts.
An already out of breath James leaned on his boyfriend while he caught his breath. Max leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Move it piggy, or no takeout on the way home. If you're above 600 I'll buy you double."
James moaned quietly and started waddling towards the scale with great effort. With a loud grunt he'd gotten onto the scale and waited for the doctor to read the number out, all James could see when he looked down was his belly and tits.
"Oh dear..." said the doctor, "This is worse than we thought. James, you're 642.2lbs."
He felt his heart drop, how on earth was it possible to double your weight in under three years? James knew he was getting fat but he had no idea how bad it was! He started to panic, wondering how this could've happened and he looked around at his boyfriend catching him smiling and giving his piggy a wink. James knew Max loved to feed him, but had he gone too far? All the doubt washed away when he saw just how excited his fat made his fit boyfriend, if Max was happy with James' size then James should be too! The waddle back to the chairs felt even harder than before, it felt as if all 642lbs were resting on his shoulders on top of his weight. With a few grunts he managed to waddle into place and sit, but with a loud crash soon echoed in the room.
"Babe? Baby are you okay?" Max said with a panicked look on his face.
His whale of a boyfriend was stuck on the floor after breaking the chairs in the doctor's office. As worried as he was that James may have injured himself, he could feel precum coating his underwear at the sight of his helpless pig on the floor. Max knew he was gonna treat him so well after this, he deserved it.
With the help of four doctors plus his boyfriend's muscly arms, James was back on his feet and placed in a bariatric wheelchair, finally in a seat that was wide enough for him. The doctor did some blood tests on James with a fair amount of struggle. The cuff would just barely wrap around James' meaty arms, that sent a jolt to his buried cock.
"James, our tests have revealed that you have a BMI of 97.5, the maximum for a healthy weight should be no more than 25. At just 5'8, you should be sitting at around 160lbs but instead you are four times as much as that. Your blood pressure is dangerously high and your breathing is extremely heavy, I am worried about what may happen to you if you continue to gain weight. I can refer you to a bariatric specialist if necessary, if no action is taken I'm afraid to say you will likely be immobile by the end of the year."
James was zoning out, all he could think about was Max and how much he was in love with him. He didn't care about the inevitable health issues he was going to get from gaining weight, he just wanted Max to take care of him. And something about being in a specialist wheelchair, so fat and helpless was doing something to him, making him feel sexier than ever. He knew Max felt it too.
Max thanked the doctor for his time and wheeled James out of the office. So many eyes darted and locked onto his whale sized boyfriend who was nervously squeezing his tits. Once they got to the car Max threw James the rest of his donuts and it didn't take long for them to be devoured, much to the doctor's disapproval. It took longer getting James into the car because of his wheelchair and fall, Max didn't want to put too much pressure on his boyfriend's feet. James ended up laying down in the back of the car looking like a beached whale, it was the safest thing to do with him.
"So piggy, what do you want from Maccies?" asked Max as James was too distracted playing with his fat to even notice. He'd always loved being fat but he'd truely fallen in love with his size just like how Max had. He wanted more, so much more... "Babe, get one of everything on the menu... URRRP" James burped.
After his feast they healed James out of the car and got back into bed, hooking him back up to his CPAP machine where he quickly fell asleep. Max cuddled up to his whale boyfriend knowing just how much fatter he was going to make him and started to suck on his boyfriend's tits until cum dripped out of his fatpad, he must've been having a wet dream. Max cleaned up his boyfriend's mess and fell asleep next to the comforting blubber and warmth of James.
Maybe a controversial post but I noticed a lot of times in eprocto content it usually revolves around massive bloating, weight gain, furries, feederism, etc. (No hate to people into this stuff, it's just not my thing)
Honestly what actually turns me on is the idea of a conventionally attractive person farting. I want to see their gorgeous faces twist in discomfort, ripples and bubbles of sewage hidden neatly under toned abs, the epitome of beauty's face showing pleasure meant for an orgasm, instead used for relief of their putrid, gross guts.
I need to hear that boyish laugh and evil smirk as the hot male actor admits to his rip, that mischevious grin and blush as the model realizes she's on camera, the panic or lack of panic as gas makes its way out after being held too long.
I want to see pain, annoyance as their perfect body fights against being perfect for once. I want to hear muffled groans and sighs as they try to hold it in as much as possible. Fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, pacing, groaning, all while looking as sexy and ethereal as possible.
Is it bad that I so badly want to be kidnapped and fattened endlessly? I mean if I didn’t have a choice in the matter then I wouldn’t feel bad for ending up immobile, doing nothing in life but eating. If I had health problems, oh well isn’t my fault. I’d have no worries no problems no struggles just food.
Yeah maybe it’d be pretty rough being force fed day and night for the rest of my life but I think I’d like it. I wanna be so full I forgot what hunger feels like, I’m begging for the food to end between burps and moans all while my sadistic kidnapper rubs my body feeling my fat up and laughing at me while holding my next plate of food. Anyone wanna do this for me hit me up if so lol
amandla
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
