People spend too much time living in fear and trying to stave it off, but the obesity epidemic will win. There's no stopping it. Sooner or later, you and everyone you know will be plumped up fat, with soft curvy bodies and beautifully big bellies.
Don't be afraid, it'll only stress you out. Just embrace it. It's no so bad- in fact it's good. It's ideal. You'll love getting fat. You'll love eating everything you want, and you'll adore that warm feeling you get when your belly is full. You'll find yourself addicted to that feeling, and the newfound sense of accomplishment you get with every new pound and inch of flab. You'll look forward to comparing your body's growth to your friends', seeing how their body has fattened up compared to yours, because nobody's bodies fatten up in the same way.
And when you start to get turned on, comparing your plumped up form to your friends', embrace that too. Because no matter how hard society and pop culture have tried to brainwash you, there's nothing more beautiful or erotic than a beautifully plumped, obese body. Embrace it, worship it, fuck it. Eat more, fuck more, and live the natural life that we all want, deep down.
No matter how hard we try to fight it, deep down everyone wants to eat and everyone wants to fuck. So they should give up on fighting it and give in to gluttony and lust. Grow fatter and fatter, and fuck your friends. You know you want to.
The obesity epidemic is going to win, and it's going to win because you want it to. No matter what you say.
I wrote this to one of my favorite piggies but I think this applies to all you tubsters eagerly waiting my next fattening post that you can eat yourself into a stupor to...
So anyway, enjoy the promises I make to my ever expanding hogs...
I promise you'll be my fat little bitch boy, eating food off the top of the massive gut that forces your enormously lardy legs apart and droops between them onto the bed.
I promise your pathetic, nonexistent cock will be suffocating inside your fupa buried behind your thick slab of belly fat, relentlessly leaking as you feel the pressure build as you swell with more food, making your entire gut tingle with every touch.
I promise you'll want your whole body so encased in soft, thick, lard that every movement, every quake and ripple, everything reminds you what you did for me, everything reminds you that you're my piggy bitch and it'll only make you want to keep eating and pleasing me.
I promise you'll cum from belly touching alone because you've lost all other options and you'll only ever want to loose it even further so you'll eat even faster just to feel your body pile on more lard in real-time.
Now go have the most fattening weekend youve ever fucking had, okay? God it would be SO hot if you put on like 4-5lbs
Heâs on top, tiring quickly, as his thrusts become more laboured. His eyes reveal that he wonât make it, but the desire still surges stronly through him as his hips begin to slow. You know he canât hold himself above you much longer. His weight is pleasurably suffocating you. You couldnât escape, even if you tried. You wrap your arms around him for purchase, to help him out, but itâs no use. Heâs grown too big, too heavy, too fat. And heâs bigger than ever before. You bite your lip in ecstasy, trying to hold on, trying not to erupt too soon. His appetite has finally got the better of him. Heâs now succumbed fully to your charms. But itâs the first time heâs completely failed to finish like this. You always knew this day would come - the way he ate. And as you delight at a new milestone reached, he grinds to a standstill above you, his full weight now crushing you, as his fattened body slows to a stop. You kiss him sweetly on the cheek, âItâs okay, itâs okay,â you whisper reassuringly in his ear as you stroke his hair. âDonât worry about it, just roll over for me and Iâll take things from here.â Once freed, you straddle him. It shocks you how wide your thighs now have to part to contain him, when you remember how slim he was when he first met you. After pushing his belly upwards and lowering yourself onto him, you begin to rock your hips gently, feeling your gyrations echoed by his girth. You reach for the full pack of cookies youâve kept religiously by the bedside for weeks and open it. You take the first and hover it temptingly by his mouth. You quicken your thrusts by way of temptation, as your other hand claws wildly at his softened chest. Unable to resist you, he takes a voracious bite of the fattening treat in your hand. Heâs such a glutton. Heâs never full, never satisfied, never fat enough, and always wanting more. You smile sweetly, but you canât resist your darker thoughts. âWell at least youâre still good for something!â you giggle disdainfully, as you move your free hand lower to slap his generously plump belly until it glows. His fattened cheeks flush a deep, dark chrimson. Itâs so sweet when he gets embarrassed like this. He knows that you love it, and so does he. But what he doesnât yet know is that - if you can contain yourself right now - he wonât be allowed his big finish tonight, unless all his cookies are finished too. Â
Listen if youâre going to talk a big game Iâm going to make sure you can follow through. What are you gonna do with that big body now? Gonna squish me? Better make it count, better make me 2-dimensional. If I donât bust in one lean then the growing continues until Iâm done so letâs find out who has more resolve, my libido, your knees, or the wall.
The fattest guy in the office, or anywhere really, is used to being called âbig guyâ and being cast a double glance when someone first sees him. He takes it in strideâsays he loves to eatâbut knows heâs not anyoneâs type.
So he never goes for the plunge. He never picks up any signs â not that he thinks thereâs ever been any.
Heâs used to girls befriending him and he expects nothing more. He has a lot of female friends.
A new worker in the office befriends him, he thinks little of it. Sheâs a few years younger than him, a little less experienced in this field, so sheâs always turning to him for help.
Little does he know sheâs obsessed with him. She sees him across the room, shimmying between desks or struggling to grab something from the floor and sheâs drooling around her pen.
She unbuttons her shirt when she goes to see him. She sits on his desk as she talks with him, a shoe off when no oneâs around, to run a foot up his thigh and under his massive gut.
Trying to stave off his embarrassment, he asks, âAre your feet cold?â
âSo cold,â she insists and does the same with her other foot. She tries to aim for his crotch, but he corrects her direction, thinking itâs an accident.
She brings him massive drive-thru breakfast orders, and lunches and she made herself. Invites him out for drinks and even invites him back to hers on several occasions as her apartment is closer to the place they drink at.
He doesnât make a move because he thinks all of this is innocent, even when she tries offering her bed because the couch is no place for a guy like him to crash.
She finally gets him in bed when the elevators at her apartment complex are out of order. She stays with him as heâs dangerously out of breath and sweating like crazy up the five flights of stairs, and dotes on him with such care after guiding him to the couch. She helps him unbuckle, unzip, unbutton, letting his big, handsome belly spill out freely.
She rubs warm, soft thumbs sympathetically on the angry red lines on his belly. Massages his feet after helping him get his shoes off.
He canât lie, seeing a gorgeous woman on her knees, massaging his feet with her cleavage and bra on show for him, itâs hot as hell, but he shrugs away the feeling. He scolds himself for watching her ass as she heads to the kitchen to fix him a sandwich, because he needs his strength back. She insisted.
That night, they share the same bed, but for the first hour or two, thereâs distance. Not much, because heâs taking up a full half of the bed easily. Heâs nervous, too nervous to sleep, and sheâs trying to lightly doze, banishing herself to the very edge of the bed just to keep that few extra inches of space.
Heâs propped up a little more against the headboard than her to keep himself from snoring as bad as what he normally does, and it grands him a clear perspective of her.
âHey,â he whispers. âDo you want to come closer? Thereâs not much space. I promise not to do anything.â
She takes a moment to accept. âYou donât have to promise anything,â she says, before taking her chance to tuck herself under his arm, stuffing her thigh between his thighs his gelatinous overhang, so close to everything else that it makes him gulp.
ââŚOkay. I wonât.â
Normally, sheâs awake before him and making him breakfast to send him off when he wakes up on the couch after crashing at hers, but the following morning, heâs awake before her. Sheâs fastened to his side, nestled in adorably, using him like a big pillow. Thereâs drool all on his chest. The fresh streak is going down where his ribs used to be, under a thick layer of fat.
After that, they become closer. In the office, co-workers start to tease him about his âgirlfriendâ, which he has to dismiss to spare her her dignity. She doesnât deserve to be teased just for being friends with the fat guy.
She invites him over for breakfast more. She even invites him to a garden party for a barbecue with her friends, and she asks him what he thinks of her new bikini.
âYeah, itâs, um⌠good.â Because what else are you meant to say when an attractive woman is showing herself off in front of you, but you arenât dating? âYou look great.â
âItâs a really good material, too. Want to feel?â She presses her chest into his side and puts her arms around him.
Sometimes, they even have dinner together, and then theyâll cuddle together again when heâs too full to protest. Sometimes she rubs his belly for him when heâs exceptionally stuffed, because she has this miserable frown on her face when he leaves anything sheâs made him.
He feels guilty for how expensive all this must be for her. A table full of toasted bacon sandwiches all for him one instance, a smorgasbord of breakfast menu fast food items the next, a full breakfast the time after that. He invites her over to his for a change, and orders pizza, wings, dirty fries, but takes note of how she says sheâs stuffed after two slices, some fries, and a single wing, and then is working to inspire him to finish everything else.
He sees the little bloat under that black mini dress too. Sheâs not joking: she is full from just that. He couldnât dream of it. Itâs such a small portion to him.
He felt terribly awkward when he opened the door to find her in a pretty dress and evening makeup, hair done up and shoes sleek and elegant. She even brought a red wine. Heâd answered the door with a beer in hand, in sweats and a T-shirt, assuming things would be casual, but she smiled at him like heâd just answered the door in a tux with a bouquet of roses.
âYou look handsome tonight,â sheâd said.
âI â um â yeah. Ditto. Beautiful, I mean. Youâreâ I mean, you. So.â
She giggled.
Once all the food is cleared, heâs panting heavily and sitting back. She pushes up his T-shirt without needing to be asked. She pushes the waistband of his sweatpants under his belly and starts to rub.
âYou really overdid it, sweetie,â she says, as she has many times before. âBut itâs okay, Iâll help you.â As usual, she starts at the sides of his belly and works her way inwards. He groans in relief from it.
She puts a knee over his thigh, precariously on the small bit of seat space his corpulence has to offer between his spread legs. His heart hammers. âWhat are youâ?â
She straddles his thigh, perching on his knee. He can feel the heat from herâ herâ
âArms up. Letâs get you comfortable.â When his arms go up, she helps pull off his massive T-shirt, squeezes one of his pecs with a tipsy giggle. âYouâre so soft. So pretty.â
His brain short-circuits. âYou- You know Iâm not gay, right?â
She pauses. âYeah? Iâve been flirting with you for months. You never make a move,â she sulks. âSo is this okay? Can I make the move for you?â
He nods dumbly, and immediately sheâs unzipping her dress and shrugging it off. Heâs face to face with her bra and panty set, black lace and silk. Sheâs beautiful, but so tiny in comparison to him. She could wear a leg of his pants as a bodycon dress, heâs sure of it.
âThe moment I saw you, I wanted you. I was obsessed with you.â
He licks his lips. âI told myself not to get my hopes up.â
A desolate expression takes over her face. She shakes her head, mostly to herself, and arches over his embonpoint to put her nose to his neck. âYour cologneâs nice.â
âThanksâŚâ
âI like it when you donât shave for a while, itâs so cute.â
âN-Noted.â
âAnd those swimming trunks⌠they looked ready to burst. And these sweats are so hot. I like dressing up for you. I like that you didnât. I want you to be comfortable. You barely look comfortable in work.â
Then it clicks for him. All that food. The takeout. The encouraging. The foot massage. âIâve gained so much weight because of you.â He puts a hand on the crest of his belly. âLook what youâve done.â
She kisses him with a gasp of awe. She clearly cannot help herself anymore. He can smell how wet she is, let alone feel it dripping onto his knee, through the fabric of his sweats.
âDo you think youâre too full to lie down? I was hoping youâd top, anyway. I want to feel all of you coming down on me.â
He canât believe this is happening. Before he knows it, heâs staring at her on all fours on his bed, waiting patiently for him to lift up his gut andâjeez, he has to lift up his gut to have sex now. Itâs so heavy. When was the last time he had sex? At least with a girl? Where he topped? He doesnât know the answers to any of the three.
She whimpers when he lets his belly drop onto her back. He stresses immediately: âAre you okay? I can get off of youââ
âNo,â she sighs, sweetly. âNo, this is perfect. You feel so full, itâs perfect.â
Maneuvering himself to get in is difficult, but after a minute or so he succeeds, panting. His knees are twinging a bit, and the angle is hard to keep⌠he tries lifting her hips a bit more, but itâs a fight against gravity with his massive stomach in the way⌠Okay, yeah, no, he can do this. He can do this fine.
His thrusts forward are cumbersome, making him pink and sweaty and limiting friction. She rolls her hips back to meet him, pushing herself against the covers.
They find a rhythm, his belly so full and contrarian to the prospect of sex being good, sloshing and moaning with every thrust. The weight of it drags air out of his chest, and by the end, heâs ruined beside her, gasping and scarlet.
He should beâ oh Godâ he canâtâ he should be the one to wipe her down. With a cloth or something right? But heâs so⌠heâs so spent, he canât imagine getting up now, trying to get his breath back before sleeping.
Beside him, she fingers herself to completion, which is embarrassing. She shows him the way she rubs his spend on her pussy, on her clit, using it as a donation, before rushing into the bathroom to pee.
When sheâs back, itâs with a damp washcloth, and acting as though she didnât just have a 400lbs man poorly fuck her, wipes him down with the cloth. Gets rid of excess sweat and cleans his fat pad up.
She kisses him sweetly, off again, only to return with a candy bar from the kitchen. âFor your health,â she says, as she does when she means to get your strength back.
A candy bar for being too fat to fuck. Thatâs a new one.
She comes behind him and rubs his belly some more as he munches down the bar in three greedy bites, smiling at him like heâs just demonstrated an insane level of ingenuity.
It's too late fatty. You really did it this time. Look at the number on the scale. Oh my mistake, that lard sack of a gut is blocking your view. Well it reads 400 pounds. 400. Do you even realize how many calories you have eaten to get this fucking huge? Actually, let's put it into perspective. Do you know how many trucks filled with burgers you had to eat? How many swimming pools full of grease you swallowed? Maybe you would be able to guess how many salads you have eaten to get this round. Well I am say its too late to go back now. I am sure you had some idea in your mind that you could just lose all this weight. You thought you could just stop eating days worth of calories in hours, and stop craving fatty food all night. We both know that was a fantasy. You being skinny? Not anymore. You are a blob, a flabby pile of excess calories, an obese calorie gorging hog. There isn't anything you can do to lose this much weight. You are too much of a fatass to start exercising. Just walking up stairs makes you sweat your ass off. Walking to your car to get to burger King makes you breath heavy like you ran a marathon. Fuck I think I even saw you gasping for breath after finishing 2 tubs of ice cream. Geez I am just so shock that anyone could do this to themselves. Like fuck look at yourself. You are enormous. There is no way in hell you are long a single pound. Just go eat yourself fatter already. We both know that's your true purpose now lardass.
I absolutely love playing with that lard filled gut knowing how unhealthy it is just packed full of heart stopping fat and the fact it's what's going to keep growing and causing even more struggling and health issues
Oh Baby, you need to sit down I could hear your heavy breathing from the next room over. If you where hungry you should of let me know and not try to get up and make something yourself.
I know I was doing something but Iâll drop what ever Iâm doing for you, you and your comfort always comes first. We both wanted you this big and Iâm not going to let you waste any precious calories on doing something as silly as you cooking for yourself thatâs why Iâm here, to cook for you and provide for you.
Now why donât I help you waddle back to the couch weâll put on one of your favorite shows and Iâll prepare you a nice big meal to make up for any calories you may of burnt and curl up next to you making sure you get plenty of belly rubs while you eat. Now how does that sound?
You'd almost made it too easy for me. When I bought you that gaming pc after you moved in, I hoped it might make you a little more sedentary. Maybe all those hours gaming and snacking might give you a couple extra pounds. Your focus so wholly enmeshed in exploring those fantasy worlds that a little of my own fantasy might bleed inâŚ
But now look at you. You've really let the stereotype of the fat gamer take over, haven't you? Your belly hanging down against your thighs, your hands resting the controller on your middle as you feverishly smash away at those buttons. You've always got those headphones on, your eyes glued to the screen, the light of your monitor making your belly practically glow as it grows and grows.
I thought you'd cut back when your belly started poking out of your shirt, but that was sooo many pounds ago. With even your biggest t-shirts clinging only halfway down your hanging gut, most of the time you go without a shirt at all, letting that big belly sit heavy in your lap as you slowly fill out your chair more and more with every session. Do you even realize how much you eat? How many sodas you've chugged down? All that caffeine and sugar giving you a rush as you chase quest after quest, barely noticing whether I'm setting down your second or third helping of dinner.
Snacks, wrappers, plates pile up over the course of your gaming sessions. Sometimes I'm testing the waters to see if you might look away long enough to realize just how much you're eating⌠but there's always a new mission, a new DLC, a new game coming out that keeps you happily munching away.
I worried I might feel jealous of all the attention your hobby demands of you, but I found that I love watching you play, too. I'm not watching the game, of course. I'm watching from you. Seeing your blobby frame widening, straining against, then spilling over the sides of that nice, new gaming chair I bought you with the higher weight limit. Your thick fingers wiping any bit of food against the side of your belly to avoid making your controller greasy. Watching you not notice how much further you're leaning back by the end of the night with how tightly your belly is packed, the bloat forcing you away from the edge of your desk. Appreciating how you don't even flinch when you let those big belches rumble up your your roiling gut.
And then at the end of a long night of gaming, I relish watching you peel yourself out of that chair, the way your flabby body almost sticks to it while you muster the strength to stand. That little stretch you do when you're on your feet, your hefty gut sloshing as you make your temporary escape from your rig. Your heavy steps matched by your heavy breathing until you finally plop back down, as eager for more XP as I am to watch you pack on more lbs.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm letting you get too big⌠if there's any end in sight for how many waistbands you'll strain, how high of a weight limit I'll need to find for your chair, how big you'll get before you finally seem to realize how far you've let yourself goâŚ
But then again, you've never looked happier, as long as you can keep gaming, I think you'll keep gaining for me~
Your belly bumps the cart as you turn down your favorite aisle. You wish you would have taken more time to dress but the store was closing. You hope that sexy cashier isnât working tonight, youâve got so much fat showing.  Itâs crazy how much weight youâve gained in the year since your divorce, old friends are shocked now when they see you. But the store was closing - what could you do? A fat girl needs to eat â so you heaved your  *** off the couch and grabbed the closest thing. Now youâre waddling down the aisle, feeling the cool air across a wide expanse of flesh. Your  belly has gotten so wide and sags heavily. It bounces rythmically against your heavy upper thighs as you jiggle-waddle along, putting thousands of calories into your cart as you trundle down the aisle.  You blush thinking of those deep dimples in your buttocks, the ones that got so defined, so obvious with the last fifty pounds. They can easily be seen through the thin cotton pants stretched across your wide, wobbly posterior like cellophane.  You waddle , waddle, waddle along, filling your cart with junk. You watch as you fill it - nothing but fat and carbs. This is why youâve gotten so heavy, so out of shape. No self control. Such overwhelming desire to be full, swollen. Youâre  a selfish, greedy pig, eating and eating and eating. And worse yet, you canât take a bite of anything sweet anymore without sliding your hand between your thighs and rubbing yourself to orgasm. Oh the fantasies: being fed, being humiliated: pinched and slapped and fattened and fattened.  More stuff goes  in the cart; you laugh. Your ex-husband left you for just this reason, the day you were married you gave up any pretense of dieting. A year ago, heâd finally had enough. Oh if he could see you now, waddling down the aisle 120 pounds heavier, bouncing, shaking, rippling, rippling with every step; if he could see you blushing and salivating as you spy your favorites and toss them defiantly into the cart; watch you struggle as you bend down to retrieve yet another  box of snack cakes sure to make you biggerâŚsofterâŚflabbier.
You turn now into the bakery section and and load in the cakes and pies. Youâre getting wet just thinking about pigging out. Your nipples tighten as you smell the warm bread, the baked crusts. God, youâre such a pig: a hog, a greedy selfish hippo who dreams of being stuffed around the clock, sitting on her wide, spreading ass and gorging on slice after slice, handful after handful, of everything;  greedily filling your belly as it pushes further and further onto your lap. You catch you relfection is the bakery case â thank god the store is all but empty- what a sight!  So much blubber â jiggling, jiggling, jiggling. Youâre embarassed at the sight of yourself and so turned on. Desire overcomes you and blushing, you plunge your fat hand into the open bulk container and draw back a fistful of  caramels. You shove them into your mouth, your face hot with lust.
Your heart stops as you turn towards the registers â the sexy cashier is the only one working; god, he looks like heâs in even better shape than last week. Youâre so embarassed, this physical contrast , your complete transformation into a flabby, gluttonous hog; a jiggle-pig; a formerly plump woman now covered in layer after thickening  layer of wobbly pig-jelly . You consider leaving the cart and going to another store rather than face him. Youâve  had a serious crush since he started here two years ago. He always recognizes you and says hello, ugh, youâve put on so much weight since then. Heâs watched you  grow every week:  fatterâŚfatterâŚFATTER. You gather your courage and push your cart slowly to his register. You can hardly breathe. Your heavy sagging gut slaps your thighs as you approach. The soft, rythmic bump-wobble, bump-wobble is so obvious, oh, youâve gotten so big and heavy.
The cashier is looks at you and smiles, he can see your belly hanging out, your food-mounded cart, ugh, heâs good-looking. You blush deep red. Your big, soft arms woggle, your back fat wiggles, your  buttocks jounce and jiggle as you nervously unload the piles of junk onto the conveyor. The cashier watches and does not advance the belt or begin ringing you up. The food boxes pile higher and the cashier watches.
âJust stocking up for the family,â you stammer. He laughs.
âYou donât have any family, this is all for you, porky.â Â You blush. Oh ***, please humiliate me some more, please, please. You move to the end of the register and he begins to ring you up. Your wide hips and huge belly are in full view, god, youâre so wet. You want to be home with a box of cookies, eating and rubbing your clit. Â He scans a few items and then grabs a box of ice cream sandwiches,
âDo you know how many calories are in these? There is a low fat version right next to these,â he glances at your bulging fat, âyou should really try them.â Â You sputter and struggle to respond.
âIâveâŚIâve âŚthese taste a lot better.â
He scans a few more things and then stops at a huge box of twinkies and grabs the intercom and levels his eyes at you. Heâs doing this on purpose, oh please, yes, humiliate me, Iâm such a greedy pig.
âTom, can I get a price check on the jumbo pack twinkie, the 30 count, I think theyâre  on sale.â
Tom buzzes back with a price.
âNo Tom, the JUMBO pack ,the really big box for like a family of ten or something.â
A few other customers  moving towards the exit turn and stare. They shake their heads in disgust. The cashier smiles at you.
âSorry, just want to make sure you donât get over charged.â
He scans more food and continues to glance at your belly.
âSet that big thing on the counter for me, fat girl. I want to see how much of that is pure hog-jelly.â
You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of what you heard.
âC'mon, lard ass, I see how much weight youâve put on lately. Put that big, wobbly pile of chub on my counter so I can see how fat you really are.â
Your hands shake, your breathing is fast and ragged, you lift your heavy gut and set it on the counter. He pats it playfully then slips his finger in your belly button.
âWow, youâve really gotten tubby, Â hogged up big time.â He leans forward and grabs a fistful of blubber and jiggles it, âIs this why hubby left you? Is this why? Â You couldnât stop filling this greedy gut with food?â
You begin to sweat, âYes, oh god, I let myself go, I got huge and fat and lazy,â youâre panting as he jiggles, jiggles, jiggles your belly, âI couldnât stop myself, Â he told me to lose weight, he warned me, Â but I just couldnât help it, I just love eating and eating.â
He laughs  and returns to scanning your items.  Your panties are soaked.
He finishes scanning and begins bagging your stuff. Â You watch his arm muscles ripple as he packs the bags with all your favorite food. He smiles at you as if he didnât just spend five minutes humiliating you. âWrite your number down for me. I get off in thirty minutes.â
You stare at him in disbelief and try to pretend you have plans, âI canât, not now, IâŚI have a friendââ
âDonât be silly, the only thing youâre doing tonight is eating, stuffing that huge gut with food you clearly donât need. Now write down your number and address, you fat blimp.â
You give in easily. Your hand shakes as you write down your information. Â What are you doing? You hardly know him, but oh how you want to be teased, teased and fed and humiliated. He loads the bags in your cart and you head for home. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
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