Oh how amazing it feels to grow fat. How erotic it is to notice your belly soft and plush, as a young gainer. The feeling of outgrowing your first pair of trousers; being unable to pull them up past your widening hips, having to suck in your tummy fat, and not being able to see downstairs as you try and find a hole in your belt. The sudden realisation, as your Calvin’s rip down the seam, exposing your hefty butt, that you’re no longer a twink.
How amazing it feels to be able to fit more and more into your stomach each day. You used to only be able to eat 1 BigMac, before you would feel bloated and would collapse in a food coma. Now, you don’t even feel full after 3. That first time you stuff yourself you felt an immense amount of euphoria, eroticism and excitement, now every other time you eat, you try and match that very first time. You try and stuff yourself so full, that your body tingles and shivers from all the lust. But it never quite gets there. Even though now, you can hold down a triple cheeseburger combo with extra large fries, and an xl McFlurry, it still doesn’t feel as good as that very first time. So you stuff more, and more, and more each sitting, you’ll have over 5 fast food deliveries a day, and you’ll consume more than 10,000 calories and additives, hoping that you’ll eventually reach that same level of eroticism and pleasure as your very first stuffing. You beg your boyfriend to feed you more, you suck his fingers clean, licking off all the unhealthy crumbs and sauce that stuck to his fingers. He rubs your bloated and heavy belly, his fingers trace the expansive network of stretch marks that deface it, he asks if they hurt, that turned you on more than you could have imagined.
Your weight skyrockets. Your boyfriend struggles to pull you out of bed and lift you up from the sofa; you arms resemble tyres stacked on top of each other, rolls of fat circling from your shoulder to your fingers, your moobs look heavy and large, your nipple piercings stretched and painful from all the fat that surrounds them. Every inch of your body is covered in soft, plushy fat, layers that fold over each other. Yet, despite how ridiculously overweight you are, despite all your doctors warning you of how dangerously obese you are, and all your friends urging you to lose a few pounds, you still keep eating. You keep stuffing yourself every minute of the day. You wake up feeling hungry during the night, and reach under the bed to scoff several packets of crisps and cookies. You’re addicted to food and addicted to the feeling of eating. You love how good it felt to be stuffed that very first time, that feeling of euphoria and pleasure, how turned on it made you feel. You’re constantly chasing that feeling, hoping one day, you’ll eat so much, and you’ll feel just as it felt that very first time; an overload of sexual pleasure and lust. Yet in the process of chasing that feeling, you’ve put on over 500lbs, you’re a shadow of your former self, and your body can’t cope carrying all the fat you’ve forced on it.
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