My boyfriend’s head is in between my legs, sucking my cock, and eating my fat pad out like a cunt. My fat thighs squeeze his head tighter, locking him in place while I moan and grind into him. He stops what he’s doing.
I reach for a doughnut, and put it into my mouth. He starts again.
It’s been a year of this, and fuck does it feel good.
My boyfriend looks up at me from the couch. I’m shaking like a leaf, but my voice is resolute.
“I really like you and I know this is kind of weird but it’s something I’ve always wanted and it makes me feel really good to-“
“How fat?” He says softly.
His face is flushed and he can’t look me in the eyes. His mouth is open, and I can see some drool forming around his lips.
“Super chub sized” I stammer. Tears well up in my eyes.
He looks up at me. His eyes are soft and he’s smiling.
“I think,” he pauses, he’s blushing so hard, “you should let me suck your dick about it.”
A month after telling him that I wanted to get fat, I stepped on the scale for the first time. My boyfriend held his phone up and licked his lips.
After he sucked my dick, ate my cunt, and fucked me raw that day, he began to explore ways to fatten me up.
He admitted to me that he didn’t really know that weight gain could be a fetish. However as soon as he heard me say that I wanted to be fat, he immediately got hard.
“I think you’re perfect now, and I want more of you, and I want to make you happy.”
He started slow. He cooked me larger meals, bought me all the take out I wanted, and fucked me when I was too full to move.
The next he made me start drinking shakes. The next it was drinking two shakes a day and making sure I ate all my meals.
“Leftovers are for quitters, and I have a little incentive for you.”
Every meal, he’d bury his head between my thighs, and eat me out.
And when I stopped eating, or took a break, he’d stop. At the beginning I would be stop stuffed to have him keep going. I needed the rest. He would rub my belly and tell me what a good boy I was.
The next week, I was able to finish my meals, and get his beard wet.
Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror now, it was obvious I had gained some weight. My belly was an actual pouch, my ass rounded out a bit more, and my thighs began to touch at the top.
“What does it say baby?” My boyfriend leered.
I looked down at the scale.
I was immediately wet. My boyfriend let out a low whistle.
I had gained 15 lbs in a month.
Three months later, I found myself face first in a small vanilla cake.
My boyfriend took me to the grocery store with him. He pushed the cart while I grabbed whatever I wanted. We agreed that I needed to eat healthy foods, but that didn’t stop me from picking tubs of ice cream, frozen dinners, chips, cookies, and snack cakes.
“I want to get you something special” he said when we got to the bakery.
He pointed to the small vanilla cake with “congratulations” written on it.
I knew what he was congratulating me for.
I had outgrown my wardrobe. My belly had busted through all my jeans. My sweatpants couldn’t fit over my gigantic wobbly ass. My thighs touched all the way. My arms were officially bingo wings. My double chin was a permanent part of my face.
Everytime he rammed his cock into my boy cunt, my face fell into the cake. I would take a bite, and swallow between moans. He would grip my love handles tightly using them as leverage to get deeper into me.
“How much do you weigh now?”
“210” I said breathlessly before taking another bite of cake.
“Is that enough for you?”
“N-no” I moaned. I licked frosting off my lips. Fuck, fuck I’m close.
“You’re such a greedy fucking slut. You’re gonna end up really fucking fat baby. You’re gonna be a fucking wh-h-ale”
He came into me and I yelped as I clenched and gushed around his dick.
Another three months. Another 15 lbs a month. Another several weeks of eating and fucking.
My friends began to notice. 105 lbs is hard not to notice.
They were concerned that I was depressed. I brushed it off and just told them I was getting older, my body was changing. They stopped saying anything, but they looked at me different.
I noticed that they would whisper to themselves whenever they saw my belly poking out from my shirts. Or when my love handles bubbled out of my jeans. Or when I sat in chairs and they would creak. They’d shoot me and my boyfriend dirty glances when he’d rub my belly, and tell me that I should eat more. They’d stop and wait for me to catch up when we went out. I had a waddle now, I was slower, and I loved it.
Current, I was in a bar bathroom. I had to unbutton my jeans. They constricted my belly, and popped open as soon as I unbuttoned them.
I knead and rub my distended gut. A red line circles around, and my belly touches the tops of my thighs, which over flow the toilet.
Instinctively, I begin to jiggle my belly and play with my moob. I can feel how heavy and wide I’ve gotten. I can feel how soft I’ve become.
I pant, I can feel myself getting hard. If I don’t stop now, I’ll fucking cum in this bathroom.
The zipper refused to budge.
I try to button the top button.
The sides refused to meet, and my belly exploded outwards again.
I stand up. I try to pull my shirt down to cover my belly.
A little sliver of flesh sticks out.
I take out my phone, and snap a quick mirror print.
Hey babe, you need to come pick me up. Nothing fits ;)
So here I am, a year after I stared gaining, getting eaten out by my pervert boyfriend. Grinding on his face while sweating and wheezing. He’s rewarding me for gaining 25 lbs in a month. He’s letting me take a break from the funnel, but I can’t tell him that I want it in my mouth all the time.
Since that night in the bathroom we’ve both been ravenous. I was never without a snack or meal. I began to drink 3-4 shakes a day. We had to invest in a very expandable wardrobe. Jeans were out of the question, unless he was making me rip them. I lived in elastic waistbands and tent like shirts.
He became a feeding machine. He insisted I eat three meals a day, and as many snacks as I wanted. He was so happy I increased my shake intake on my own.
In addition to my meals, he insisted that I gorged when we fucked. Sometimes it was trays of brownies and cookies. I had graduated to eating a large sheet cake. Sometimes he’d make me drink oil and eat lard.
He insisted that when I ride him, I suckle from a funnel full of either melted ice cream or gainer pudding.
My body was covered in bright red stretch marks. My gut became so heavy and gravid, I could barely fuck myself anymore. My shoulders and double chin hid my neck. My upper arms were the size of hams, I had wrist and ankle rolls, and my hands and feet were constantly swollen. My ass wobbled back and forth when I walked, and my thighs had to push past each other.
Not like I walked that much anyways. Now my only form of exercise came from my boyfriend fucking me. I would wheeze and pant and sweat, but I let him fuck me up, down, sideways, and on my knees.
With our new “routine” I went from gaining 15lbs a month, to 20lbs. I guess we both have gotten greedier. Especially given today’s weigh in.
“Whew,” he said as he looked down at the scale, “glad we got the 500lbs capacity scale.”
“Oh god is it that bad?” I blushed. I tried pushing my fat gut back so I could see the number myself. I had no luck.
“You’re 370 lbs now fat ass.” He came over and gave me a kiss while fingering my bellybutton. I moaned into his mouth.
“How does it feel to gain 220lbs in a year?” I yell as he slaps my ass.
“Honestly babe I’m really tired, I need to sit down, but please fuck me.”
He rummages around my fat pad, and finds my throbbing cock. He circles it with his thumb as his hand grinds against my wet cunt.
“Get on the couch”, he whispers in my ear, “Let me have a taste of that fat boy pussy. Let me see you waddle around big boy. I love you.”
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
izzy806
2087
germansingergirl
