Idk what they feed already fat rappers, but this guy from 2024 in the first pic was already fat AF. Now he’s so fat that I doubt he can actually rap while standing. Just look at those wrists. 😍
Eating Himself Out of Office 3: Epi(mmobi)logue (SSBHM, Immobility)
tw: this final installment includes a man gaining weight to the point of immobility (without further health implications)
if that's not something you enjoy reading, check out the previous two parts! This continues to be inspired by @evermore-xxl's lovely fantasy about her partner gaining a substantial amount of weight after getting an office job. Enjoy!
~
She could tell something was different from that first morning when he was allowed to work from home permanently. There hadn't been much hesitation in his growing habits to this point, especially not when there was food around, but unspoken between them was this new reality that he truly didn't have any reason to hold himself back when it came to eating. And she, for her part, didn't have to hold herself back with offering him up as much as she wanted.
"Is there any more bacon?" he calls out from the bedroom, still lounging in bed and pushing a too-big bite of his ninth pancake of the morning into his mouth, the chocolate chips and M&Ms inside still warm and gooey on his tongue as he chews.
"Plenty!" she says back, stacking another three fluffy, chocolatey pancakes onto a second plate, letting the dollop of butter on top soften for a few seconds before drenching them in sugary syrup. She can just squeeze six slices of bacon on the edge of the plate. He's propped up in the center of the bed with all of their pillows behind his back. The soft, huge mass of his belly resting in his lap, rolling onto itself in the spots where only a year ago there were merely the slightest of folds forming. His plate is balanced in one hand as he eats the last bite, then allows her to exchange the empty plate for his next full one.
"More pancakes too…" he says, giving her a knowing look, but starting in on them without hesitation. He runs his hand across his belly between bites, seeing how fixated she is on the soft vastness of his middle. "Not fat enough for you yet? Trying to feed me until I literally can't leave your bed?" he says cheekily, leaning back and letting her hands slide under to take the weight of his belly in her grasp, drawing her into the bed with him, her body dwarfed by his size already.
She wants to answer openly; to tell him that she's only dreamt about feeding him bigger and bigger as he's grown so much fatter. She thinks about watching his beautiful body expand towards the edges of this bed, to feel him grow soft and heavy with her care. But the increasingly legitimate possibility of it happening almost makes it harder to speak aloud, so she brings her face down to press against his increasingly-stuffed middle and kisses the peak where she can tell he's most full and sensitive. The color flushing in his face brings her back in for another peck, then she marks his belly with a hickey, enamored with the enthusiastic moans struggling to escape his pancake-packed mouth.
The ping from his laptop beckons him to work from his nearby desk, meaning the end of his meal. She’d suggested moving the desk into the bedroom and he hadn’t argued — the fewer steps he needed to take at this point, the better. He starts to roll himself towards the edge of their bed, her eyes bouncing between every inch of overfed flab as he moves. He goes to push himself to his feet, but lands back on the mattress with an embarrassed groan, the frame creaking underneath him. With a deep breath, he tries again, this time righting his weight enough to stand, taking a few unsteady steps to his chair.
His work shirt and joggers are draped on the back of his chair, but trying to force the latter on will inevitably make him late for his morning meeting, so he forgoes pants and starts buttoning his work shirt as far down as he can manage. She’s watching from behind with awe as his wide ass drops into the chair, his thighs naturally spreading to accommodate the space demanded by the sheer size of his belly. She sees his butt and love handles swallow up most of his visible underwear as the weight pools and piles up. He’s entering a meeting with his camera on, pudgy hand reaching for the bowl of pretzels waiting for him on his desk so he can chew through a few during his many muted moments.
She doesn’t try to overfeed him, but he’s gotten so, so big that she doesn’t want him going hungry either.
Eggs, sausage, and hash browns at 9. An extra large pizza all his own at 11. Three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at noon. He's ordered two huge burritos before knowing she’d be bringing him those first two lunches, but he doesn’t let the third go to waste once it's delivered. A pint of ice cream. She makes cookies, they barely have a chance to cool before they’re stacked onto a plate for him to devour. Afternoon bagels and cream cheese. A rather large bowl of chocolate chips that she helpfully refills until he’s eaten the whole bag. Huge slices of watermelon. Grilled cheese sandwiches. After every task she completes at her own desk, she finds herself back in the kitchen getting him a snack or something to drink.
There's something about him sitting in there without proper pants that has her mind buzzing. It's not just that he's getting too big for his clothes again—that's become routine at this point—it's the raw comfort on display and growing acceptance of his size that seems to have her sneaking glances at every bulging bit of his body when she pops into their bedroom to shuttle his next bit of food.
He's pulled his laptop onto his belly by the late afternoon; the bloat in his middle eased by leaning back in the chair and avoiding the uncomfortable squeeze that comes with trying to reach his desk. She brings him a plate of mozzarella sticks, fresh from the oven, which he readily accepts onto his belly/table ejecting his laptop onto the desk.
"You know, my job does subsidize as many delivery meals as I want during work hours," he says, patting his belly as he chews. "Might as well take advantage of that until they see how many meals I'm packing away and how much it's costing them."
"Too distracting having me in and out during the day delivering you homemade meals, big guy?" she asks, teasing him as she brushes a few crumbs from his front.
"That part I love, but you shouldn't have to spend so much time making me stuff. I'll order more delivery, let you do your work during the day. Besides, probably better for me to get at least a few steps in going to the front door and back, right?" he says, groaning as he pushes himself out of his chair, the arms hitching on his sides. She loves the visible difference in his belly throughout the day: how in the morning it's doughy and wobbly; then by the afternoon there's a firm mass of food inside of his stomach bloating him outward, even at this weight, making his waddle more pronounced as he navigates the extra bulk into his movements.
They order noodles for dinner and he downs so much broth that she can hear his swollen belly sloshing when they finally roll him into the bed. He falls asleep on his side, with her hands tenderly rubbing his belly and back, feeling for herself how big he gets after a day of eating like this. Feeling the accumulating pounds adding into more features for her fingers to explore across every inch of him.
His shift to ordering delivery throughout the day, it turns out, has two benefits she didn't fully anticipate. First, she has the voyeuristic pleasure of watching him wobble into the living room, half-dressed, then grasp at the frame of the front door while he bends over, straining past his own belly enough to retrieve the delivery bags waiting on the stoop. Second, when he orders his own meals, his tendencies towards the heaviest, most fattening foods are completely indulged. It's burgers, pizza, wings, stir fry, sandwiches. Double entree orders; family-sized portions. Everything hot and delicious, leaving him overfull at the conclusion of every meal, but never so full that he balks at any snack she offers him.
The steps from their bedroom to the front door aren't many, but she can hear his panting breaths grow louder as the day goes on. His movement becomes more of a shuffle with every additional meal. He grunts more when he has to bend low to reach the tantalizing bags, his pudgy hand blindly reaching past what his body obscures to find his food. His bloat builds, alongside her bubbling need to spoil him herself, until the workday ends and she can cook an enormous dinner, stuff him with far too much dessert, and delight in knowing he'll wake up ever so slightly bigger the next day.
Five full delivery meals in a day becomes common. He gives her affectionate greetings as he passes her home desk. She watches his body swell rounder by the day. His belly hangs lower. His legs get thicker and rub against each other as he walks. She's almost embarrassed when her breath hitches watching him struggle to bend over more and more. Soon she orders a small table to set outside the front door so he doesn't have to face that obstacle.
The only obstacle he faces, really, is the sheer size of his own growing body. The gaming chair at his desk grows uncomfortably narrow over the next few weeks, though she knows he's growing increasingly wary about it breaking under his weight. Instead, he starts working from their bed, his laptop perched on his belly, one hand clicking and typing away while the other lifts the next bite of food to his lips. He constantly grazes. Sometimes he's still eating through his prior delivery when the next arrives. He insists on retrieving his own meals from the front door, though she's overeager to take that responsibility off his hands, too.
It's after eight weeks of working from his bed when his body makes the decision for him. It's a Monday morning and she's barely logged in for work when she hears the familiar pattern of his approach. The loud groan from the frame of their bed that means he's getting up. The first couple plodding steps, heavy on the floor as he gets his balance. The sound of the bedroom door opening, then the creaking of that floorboard just outside their room that—
Except she doesn't hear the floorboard creak. Instead, she hears some unusually strained grunts and groans. Leaping up, she rounds the corner to find him there, wedged into the doorway of their bedroom. His belly has pushing forward enough that it's halfway through, but his bulging sides have completely stuck him there. His heavy arms are giving their best effort at dislodging him, but it's no use. The lower sides of his belly have pinched against the frame if he tries to go backwards; his butt and hips holding too firmly to let him clear the doorway going forwards.
She finds herself rather stuck, too. Her mouth dropping open, gawking at just how big he looks.
His overfattened body too huge and wide to clear the doorway. Her mind whirls with thoughts of just how much food he's eaten to reach this point, every bite he'd taken walking him down the path to rendering himself too fat to squeeze out of their bedroom. She would have savored the moment forever if not for her understandable need to help him.
"I guess the dozen donuts I have outside aren't going to exactly fix this problem," he says, his face flushed red with the exertion of trying to free himself and the tingling embarrassment of having eaten himself to this size.
"I don't see a problem," she says, grabbing handfuls of his belly and gently pushing his bulk backwards into the bedroom. He takes a couple staggering steps to steady himself, panting. She strides up to him, pressing herself against his soft, round front, and embraces him, her arms wrapped at his sides as she tilts her head back to kiss him. She leads him to the bed, eases him down, and swiftly retrieves the donuts.
"I'm not getting too big, right?" he asks. Though they both already know the answer. He shimmies to get comfortable, sending tiny wobbles across every gorgeous bulge of his body. She knows he's going to be spending much, much more time in that one spot on their bed and she's prepared to support him in every way she can.
"Never too big," she promises, and opens the box of donuts, setting it atop his belly for him to enjoy as she watches and rubs the tender spots where the doorframe squeezed him.
She retrieves all of his deliveries from that point on, letting him work from the comfort of their bed.
His belly soon begins resting on the mattress between his legs, gradually overtaking his thighs and then his knees, plumping up day by day as she brings him all the food his ravenous appetite can hope for. His thighs thicken and soften with underuse as he swells, happily pinning himself to the mattress with his own weight and her love for him.
True to her word, she never feels he’s getting too big. As he widens and gradually expands to fill more and more of the bed, her adoration for him only grows. He outgrows the last of his clothes, his body on full display for her to pamper, prod, rile up, and reward — no matter how many rolls and folds have to be lovingly maneuvered to ensure he’s satisfied.
She’s often perched against his belly, leaning against it to push delicious food into his eager mouth, praising him for being so good and greedy. She loves that feeling of resting on his vastness, like she could just sink into him.
He eats like it’s his job, though he never waivers in his commitment to succeeding at his actual job. He takes meetings (camera off) his chunky arms resting on his blobby chest as he continues using his laptop.
It almost seems silly, now that he’s occupying nearly the whole bed with his enormity, that they didn’t realize sooner how much they both love the experience of growing him. They laugh together about how going to the office is what started this whole thing in the first place; the best type of workplace hazard neither of them could have anticipated.
After nearly a year of working from home, he turns his laptop around during his third lunch to show the sizable amount of his annual bonus. Her nails sink instinctively into his belly slightly, the sensation of how far away her touch feels while still being undeniably against his vast belly has him swooning. She knows just where to rest her hands or apply playful pinches that leave him completely lost for works; it helps that those spots are becoming more numerous as he grows.
“We’re going to feed you that entire bonus, you know,” she says, clambering up against his belly, careful not to put too much of herself on him. She squeezes his heavy chest, his moobs resting atop the mountain of his belly, feeling him quiver at the sensation. She reaches his plump cheek, pressing her mouth to the warm soft bulge of his chins. “I’ll get you a nice big cake to celebrate,” she promises, kissing him.
“If we celebrate too much, I’ll outgrow the bed,” he says, grinning, knowing it’s the exact thing to rile her up. He watches her orbit him, her hands gliding to the furthest point of his belly, feeling how close it is to overtaking the edge of the mattress.
"You're just too good at your job, you can't help but achieve enormous success, huh?” she asks, taking a step back to marvel at how enormous and soft he’s gotten. The sheer size of his body is almost intimidating; every inch begging to be loved and felt. She can't wait for every moment they'll spend appreciating how huge he's gotten. Even if he never grows another pound, she'd love him all the same… but they both know he's going to grow more. He can't help himself.
She takes his chunky hand in hers, his thick fingers barely spreading far enough to let hers slide between. They kiss, then return to their laptops. He continues his work. She continues hers, allowing her focus to drift to a new tab where she orders him that cake. She leans against the side of his belly, both of them content in their work and eager for the work still yet to come.
He’ll never be too big for her, no matter how hard he works at it.
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