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Alex had always been the lean, athletic type with a runner’s build and a sharp jawline. At twenty-six he worked as a mid-level marketing analyst, kept a tidy apartment, and lived a predictable life. That changed the day he signed the contract.
It started as a dumb dare on an online forum. One month of luxury, all expenses paid, just live in a mansion and follow a few simple rules. The offer came from someone called Elias V, a wealthy anonymous patron. Alex was broke after a string of bad decisions, so he signed without reading the fine print.
The fine print was everything.
The black town car dropped him off at a sprawling modern estate hidden behind tall gates. Elias met him at the door, tall and broad-shouldered, early forties, with calm commanding presence and piercing gray eyes. He wore a perfectly tailored shirt that hinted at the muscle underneath.
“Welcome, Alex. Everything you need is here. Your only job is to eat what I provide and stay on the property. Refuse and the debt clause activates. You’ll owe me every penny plus interest. Understood?”
Alex laughed nervously. “Yeah, sure. Easy money.”
Elias smiled like he already knew exactly how this would end.
The first meal was served in a sunlit dining room overlooking the pool. It wasn’t dinner, it was a feast: two entire rotisserie chickens, creamy mashed potatoes swimming in butter, mac and cheese loaded with bacon, fresh bread with olive oil, and three thick milkshakes. Elias sat across from him, watching.
“I can’t eat all this,” Alex protested.
“You will. Slowly. Every bite.”
When Alex tried to push the plate away after twenty minutes, Elias tapped his phone. A contract clause lit up the screen: non-compliance triggers an immediate five-thousand-dollar penalty. Alex ate until his stomach ached and his shirt felt tight. Elias fed him the last milkshake by hand, tipping the glass while Alex’s throat worked desperately.
“Good boy,” Elias murmured. “Day one complete.”
The routine was relentless. Five massive meals a day. High-calorie shakes every two hours. No real exercise except slow walks around the garden. Within the first week Alex’s once-flat stomach had softened into a noticeable paunch. His face looked fuller, cheeks rounding out.
Every night Elias made him stand on the scale in the marble bathroom.
“178 to 189,” Elias announced, voice low with satisfaction. “Eleven pounds already. Your metabolism is surrendering nicely.”
Alex stared at his reflection. His abs were gone, replaced by a soft doughy belly that spilled slightly over his waistband. He hated how it jiggled when he moved. He hated more how Elias’s eyes darkened with hunger every time he saw it.
“I don’t want this,” Alex whispered.
Elias stepped behind him, large hands settling on the new fat, squeezing possessively. “Your body does. Look how eagerly it’s storing everything I give it. You’re going to get so much bigger for me.”
By week three Alex weighed 215 pounds. His thighs rubbed together. His ass had grown round and heavy, stretching every pair of sweatpants Elias allowed him to wear. His chest had softened into budding breasts that bounced when he walked, and a thick double chin had formed under his once-sharp jaw.
The force-feeding had become almost constant. Elias would pin him gently but firmly against the reinforced couch and slide the tube in for the thickest, sweetest gainer shakes yet, two thousand calories each. Alex would moan and squirm as the sludge filled him, his belly swelling visibly rounder with every liter.
“You’re addicted to this now,” Elias whispered, rubbing slow circles over the massive taut dome of Alex’s gut. “Feel how heavy it is? That’s all me. All my work turning you into my perfect fat boy.”
Alex’s cock, thicker now and nestled in a growing fat pad, betrayed him every time. He came untouched more than once while Elias praised how soft and heavy he was getting.
At the two-month mark he hit 248 pounds. He barely recognized himself. A soft wobbling belly rested on his thickening thighs when he sat. Wide plush hips. Moobs that jiggled with every breath. His face was fully rounded, neck buried in fat. Walking had become a slow heavy waddle.
Elias had stopped pretending this was temporary.
During one long feeding session, Alex, stuffed beyond words with his belly shiny and red, finally broke.
“Please… I can’t get any bigger…”
Elias leaned in, kissing the stretched skin of his gut tenderly then possessively. “You can. You will. I’m doubling the calories next week. I want you over three hundred by month four. I want you so massive you can’t reach your own cock without my help. I want this beautiful fat body completely dependent on me.”
Alex whimpered, but his hips twitched. The pleasure of being so full, so owned, so changed had warped something deep inside him.
Six months later Alex tipped the scale at 367 pounds. He was a true forced gainer now, immobile on most days without help. His enormous belly spread across his lap in heavy rolls, back fat spilling over the reinforced bed, thighs fused together by thick fat. Elias had to feed him almost constantly to maintain the growth.
Every night as Elias rubbed lotion into his vast sensitive gut and praised how perfectly ruined he was, Alex would whisper the same words: “More… please make me bigger.”
Elias would smile, already planning the next two-hundred-pound milestone.
The contract had no end date anymore.
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