Ur Gainer @fattyfrenchy - Tumblr Blog

Your phone dings, a notification popping up and lighting the screen. You lazily pry your eyes from the TV, glancing over to see the all-too-familiar delivery service logo on the message. Your food was approaching. Had it been 30 minutes already? As blissfully stoned as you were, you had gotten so enamored with the mindless streaming you were doing that time just seemed to fly by! But you know how much you love to see that logo pop up on your phone. You know how conditioned you’ve become to get that hit of dopamine at the promise of your cravings soon to be fulfilled. You almost expect your stomach to growl, as hungry as you feel. But it doesn’t…Then you recall how you raided the fridge and pantry just an hour before. You had consumed thousands of calories of your own food so recently, and then you got delivery? You realize you aren’t even particularly hungry. You just want to eat. You not only crave the sensation of tasting the delicious food you’ve ordered, but the euphoria of constantly eating and filling your body like the hedonistic pig you had turned into.

You let out a slight sigh, and let your hand wander to your overflowing belly, rubbing it softly in the anticipation of your next feast. How did this feel so good? The overwhelming pleasure you got at simply feeling your body, the amount that it had fattened up, a true testament to how much you let yourself indulge so freely. You felt like royalty. You got everything you wanted, when you wanted, and you hardly had to lift a finger to get any of it. It was utter bliss. Utter hedonism. And you smiled at this fact as you took another bong hit. Finally, another notification. Your food was at your door.

You shift from side to side, lifting yourself up with your slightly shaking arms, you heaving your softened, doughy body up and standing, all your fat shifting to hang from your body, now unsupported by the couch. You saunter over to your door, checking to make sure that no one was still at the door. How embarrassing it might be for the delivery person to see you in such a state. You were only in your underwear, after all. It was practically your only option any more if you wanted to relax comfortably. You were gaining weight so quickly, your clothes couldn’t keep up. It seemed that every piece of clothing you bought was getting tight just a month or two later. It almost made you curious to see how your jeans from 100lbs ago would fit. They probably wouldn’t even make it past your thighs now.

You get lost in these thoughts of how irreversably obese you’ve gotten and before you knew it, you had shuffled back to the couch and sat down, your hefty bag of takeout sitting beside you. And your thoughts are quickly replaced with pure excitement as you lean over to begin pulling containers from the bag. It was like opening gifts on Christmas morning, rifling through this bag. The first box feels the heaviest, and the smell of greasy, fried food wafts over you. NOW, your stomach rumbles. You open it and, with your hands, begin to stuff the calorie-rich loaded cheese fries in your face, hardly savoring the taste as you simply eat with ravenous abandon. But the savory, salty taste finds you anyway, and only drives you further into this gluttonous feasting you find yourself in. It was heavenly…bite after bite, you quickly empty the box. Hardly a dent in your appetite. You needed more.

The next box, or rather two boxes, filled with perfectly deep-fried mozzarella sticks and assorted dips. It was always so amusing to see how they packaged these massive orders of yours. Multiple utensils included, multiple orders of the same things separated into individual boxes, all as if the restaurant expected this order to be for at least 3 people. But it was always just for you. All for you. You moan softly as you continue to feed yourself, licking your fingers with each bite, engrossed in what a greedy, obese fatass you were being.

Another box down, then another. And another. You could feel your stomach stretching at this point, pushing into your lap further. If you weren’t so in love with what a massive appetite you had, it would almost be concerning how much you could pack away now. So many pounds of food now fit into your gut, a far contrast to your appetite even fifty pounds ago, which had already increased so much since you decided to let yourself fall into this lifestyle. You put a hand on your swollen belly and squeeze it, feeling the results of so long doing just this. You groan and keep stuffing your face, leaning back and placing one of your last boxes of food on your gut like a table. You’re obsessed by this feeling. Your hand wanders more over your body, grabbing, squeezing, wobbling all of the fattest parts of your body, thinking of how you had put on more than 150lbs in the pursuit of this intoxicating pleasure. You can’t help yourself. You push your heavy belly out of the way and spread your massive thighs, beginning to touch yourself as you eat.

You breathe heavily, moaning between bites, turned on even more by the fact that your labored breathing is caused by both your arousal and the expenditure of such minimal effort to do something as basic as getting yourself off. Any average-sized person could do either or both without getting as winded as you do. You were such an out of shape pig, so overcome with heavy fat. It covered your body, hindered your movement, left you panting and winded when you did the simplest things, filled you out so much that you couldn’t fit on normal chairs without your hips and ass spilling over the edges. And practically any chair with arms was impossible to sit in. You even noticed that your body was beginning to get too wide for the double-seats at the hospital waiting room… But all of this, all it did was make you want more. More size. More food. More indulgence. More…

You were so full…you had eaten so much all day long, and the day before. And honestly, the day before that. No wonder you had grown so massively fat. Constantly eating left you in a state of constantly gaining weight, growing new stretch marks, accumulating more cellulite. It never stopped. You couldn’t stop. And acknowledging this pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, the familiar tingle spread across your body as you lay your head back and moan, grunt, and finally cum. Your body trembles, making all of your heavy fat wobble and jiggle, heightening the pleasure, especially feeling your belly slap your full thighs as you rock back and forth.

Exhausted, panting, body heaving up and down with each breath, takeout boxes scattered around you, each one completely empty, you can hardly gather your thoughts. A satisfied smile on your face, your body finally relaxes and you practically melt into the couch. You can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, from the exhaustion of getting yourself off, a food coma, or from being so stoned, you can’t tell. You don’t care. You were full, pleasured, and feeling like the most self-indulgent hog in the world. The least you could do is treat yourself to a nap, and wake up even bigger and wider as all the calories you just ate accumulated on your ever-growing body.

gainerstoriesbybml

No Going Back

I had a new message on the gainer website I visited regularly. Messages were rare, as I basically just lurked on there nowadays, reveling in the photos and stories of men brave enough to do what I couldn't. But while rare messages weren't unheard of, so I checked it.

Instafeeder500 had sent me a message that was probably typical to the actual gainers on this site. "I'll make you as fat as you'd like, just say the word." I hadn't gotten a message like that in a while. The last picture I'd posted was 4 years ago, back when I'd attempted to gain. It was going well honestly; in the photo I was probably around 225, and at my heaviest I'd been 245. It had taken about 2 years to go from under 200 to that weight, and I probably could have kept going. But I chickened out. Outside of this site, the weight was getting in the way, I felt, as I was still trying to keep my gainer side a secret. It's hard to be obese, binging food every night, and still date a 'normie.'

Since then I'd stopped gaining, started working out and even watching what I eat. Nowadays I'm a mere 160lbs, and at 6ft with a bit more muscle that means I only have a little padding over my midsection and little else.

Still, the message seemed like many of the generic ones I used to get. Instafeeder's profile, other than a picture of a man in a baseball cap, was blank. Not uncommon, but he'd been on the site for a while so he probably wasn't a troll or a throwaway account. From the photo he had a distinctly athletic build, and although there was no guarantee that was what he actually looked like, I liked the idea of a muscular encourager; one who wouldn't let my doubts get in the way of getting fatter. Maybe if I'd had one I wouldn't have given up on gaining years ago.

I'd never really done the role-play...thing... before, but maybe this could be fun. Why not? It's not like I was doing anything else tonight. I'd planned to stay in and had already ordered Chinese, a rare indulgence nowadays, which should be here in a half-hour or so. I'd kill some time with this thirsty, anonymous guy and go from there.

With a slight chub at the thought of the new experience I was about to have, I messaged back. "You will, huh? Well, you'll have to help my break my plateau. I've been at 245 for ages. How would you get me to 300?" Like I said, I'm currently 85lbs lighter than my heaviest weight, but I bet the guy was looking at my old pics when he messaged me. Adding 20lbs since then probably heightens the experience for him. A little white lie to enhance the roleplay.

It was only a moment before he messaged back. "I'll make you 300lbs this instant, just like the name says. Enjoy yourself for a bit and I'll check in to see how you like it ;)"

I was trying to figure out what he meant when I felt it start. What I thought was just my stomach muscles relaxing continued, and soon I noticed my chest expanding as well. I could feel my clothes shifting on my body, and looking down I realized why. The loose-fitting tshirt I was wearing for my night in was being thrust forward and outward by my expanding torso. My sweatpants were beginning to fill with my thighs and glutes, and were beginning to feel tight at the waist; unlike the tshirt, a remnant of my nearly 250lb wardrobe kept for lounging at home, the joggers were purchased when I hit 170 and was looking for something tighter to flatter my thinner frame. If I got much bigger, the elastic waistband would be ruined. Unfortunately, I realized I had a more pressing issue, literally; my desk chair had armrests that my sides were now grazing. With each passing moment those armrests threatened to trap my fattening frame in the chair. I stood up, and the chair came with, my lovehandles already creating enough hold that I had to pull the chair off of me and send it clattering to the floor.

Now my pants were beginning to struggle, and I could feel the release of tension around my stomach as the elastic snapped in the waistband. At this point, it wasn't just the waistline that was struggling. The size medium pants were simply not meant to be on someone this big, and the seams around my thighs began to split between my legs. My shirt, once an oversized XL, was now tight on my shoulders and growing tighter. I felt cool air on my stomach as I realized it had grown too large for the shirt to contain. Still unable to accept what was happening, I hurried to my bathroom and stepped on the scale. Leaning further over to see the dial than I ever had to before, I watched as my weight ticked up: 285, 290, 295. The whole time, my stomach kept growing and forcing me to lean further and further to read the scale. At 300, I stepped off the scale; that was it's maximum weight, and I wouldn't learn anything useful from standing there. Fortunately, I didn't feel like I was growing anymore. My clothes weren't comfortable, but they weren't getting destroyed any further. I looked at myself in the mirror, the XL shirt left a good measure of belly hanging out of it, and my joggers hung like a strange loincoth between my legs. The cuffs at my ankles had somehow survived, with the fabric of the pant legs still connecting to them, but even those felt tight as my ankles had been transformed into cankles. As unbelievable as this was, I couldn't help feeling entranced.

Just about a half-hour ago, I had been in the best shape of my life. Never particularly athletic, I'd worked for 4 years to get into shape. Running daily, working out 3 times a week, watching what I ate. And now, after a short, bored attempt at sexual role play, all that was gone. In it's place, I had a body 65lbs heavier than the heaviest I'd ever been. In less than half an hour, I'd gone from what most people would consider a catch to a whale, a corpulent pig with all evidence of discipline and restraint wiped away.

And I couldn't deny how hard it made me. This was the body I could have gotten to back then, the size at which I'd no longer be capable of denying the gainer part of myself. The body that I'd become afraid of, but that now I couldn't imagine being without. I went back to my bedroom and pulled off my ruined joggers, and pulled on a pair of sweats from when I'd been 245. Even these were tight on me, an exciting prospect, but they could still be worn provided I allowed by stomach to hang out in front of me. The tshirt was truly the largest I owned, so that would have to suffice. I'd have to wear this outfit to shop for clothes, or maybe I'd have to order online. What size would I even be now? Did it even matter, as thoughts of fully embracing my gainer self contemplated 400, even 500lbs? Should I just go straight for the largest sized and eat until they fit just like this shirt did now? Should I start recording myself gorging, titillating other men entranced by fat like me, so that I could charge them money for food and grow myself even larger?

The doorbell rang; of course, the chinese I'd ordered. I headed to the door, savoring the way my body bounced and jiggled as I walked and salivating at the thought of food. Chinese would be a staple dinner from now on, I decided, as would pizza, Mexican, Indian...

I opened the door already planning a second order for the night, but was surprised by a delivery driver burdened by a pair of bags so large they covered his face. "Hey there! Mind if I set these down inside?"

I was so caught off guard that I found myself shifting out of his way and letting him enter my apartment without thinking. My brain finally caught up and I tried to correct him "Sorry, that must be the wrong order, all I got was an orange chicken al la carte with steamed broccoli."

"Yeah, but you could use a bit more now though." He set down the two bags and turned to face me. "So, does 300 suit you? Or do you want to go bigger right now?"

Standing before me was the man from Instafeeder500's profile, complete with the same baseball cap, which I now realized was from the food delivery service. "Wha...How did you find me?"

"That's what you want to know? Not how I made you gain 140lbs in under 30 minutes?"

Once he pointed it out, I realized how little I cared in this moment. "Can you make me even bigger?" He grinned at that. "I knew you just needed a little push, just to get you past the point of no return. Tell you what, I'll do my instant magic one last time."

There was a glint in his eye, and then I felt myself begin to expand once again, my shirt riding up a bit more and my pants tightening a bit. It stopped after only a few minutes passed. "I just put you at an even 320lbs, double your weight from when you woke up this morning and easily within your capability to gain on your own, had you continued to do so."

"You're not making me bigger?" I asked.

"I plan to, but from here on out it'll be by traditional means. I figured all you needed was a push to get you passed your previous concerns. This is effectively a reality in which you've spent the last four years getting fatter, instead of chickening out. From here on, I'll feed you to 350, and then however big you'd like to get after that."

"Easily done with my side job." He gestured to the sacks of food. "We'd better get you started on dinner before it gets cold."

My stomach groaned, and for the rest of the evening I simply accepted this crazy series of events. With my newfound size came a hunger and capacity that I'd never known. At 245 I could eat two Chinese dinners, general tsos and orange chicken. Tonight, I ate four; those two, kung pao and sesame chicken, as well as the chicken fried rice and eggrolls that came with. I passed out in my living room chair, and woke to Instafeeder straddling me with a tub in hand. "I figured you'd want dessert as well." and he began spooning softened ice cream into my mouth. Eventually the dregs were liquefied completely, and I drank it from the tub as he held it over my head. Tonight, I'd probably eaten more than I would in two or three days normally.

"So, we started the night with you telling me how fat you wanted me to make you. I'm not going to use by power again, but by this time next year, how fat do you want me to make you?"

I didn't even have to consider it, as I'd been thinking about it all night as he brought bite after bite of food to my mouth and I felt myself slowly grow fuller, imagining how that food would turn to fat in the coming hours. "400. That's just 80lbs in a year, and with you feeding me I can get there easily. 500 the year after that, and probably 600 as we celebrate our 3rd anniversary. There's no point in holding back anymore now that I'm a mound of fat. So, how will you get me to 400?"

He smiled again. "One bite at a time, every night, with more food each night until you're putting on a pound or two every single day. You'll be 400 before the year is done, and then I'll make you as fat as you want from there."

With that, he grabbed my arm and hefted me upward as I was still not used to this weight and not used to being this full. Together, we climbed into bed as a gainer as encourager sleeping side by side.