A voicemail. Unexpected in this day and age, but not for him. Not for his situation. A situation entirely of his own creation, however unwilling that creation may have been. A situation he’d begun to create as early as he was aware of the curve of a woman, as soon as beauty began to catch his eye.
His desires for more, for heft, for softness, had been ingrained in him for as long as he was aware of his capacity for attraction, and he’d lived his earlier life constantly lusting after women who couldn’t put down the fork, women the rest of society would consider beyond thick, beyond chubby, and solidly into the realms of fat. He’s found that no matter how he tried to balance his attractions, he still found himself enraptured by gluttony, by growth. By the level of greed it would require for a woman to get as big as the ones he preferred.
He knew that his little fat fetish was beginning to become a problem, but he never thought that his less-than-common proclivities would land him in the mess he was in. Although the direct cause was a proclivity far more common: gambling.
Just like his love of porky women fat enough to spill out of their clothes, he simply couldn’t step away from the tables, and the criminal organization that ran the casino he most often visited had decided that if he wouldn’t step, he’d be dragged. After two particularly bad weekends in a row, he promised the casino's steely-eyed head of security that he would have their money the following month. When the new month rolled around and he’d once again gambled away his paychecks, they took matters into their own hands.
The group was well known for blackmail, even rumored to have extorted a semi-powerful local politician, and they were said to have top-notch private eyes do their dirty work, dig up secrets to hold against you until you performed their bidding. He’d felt safe, felt there was no secret they could extort, but he’d forgotten entirely about his search history, his saved videos, the folders with names like “fatties stuffing” and ‘piggy can’t stop gaining’ ‘POV: your girlfriend gets fat’, and, worst of all, ‘your girlfriend is fattened into an unrecognizable ball’. They’d discovered his sick desires and apparently decided that the perfect punishment included their exposure.
His wife of 6 years, a beautiful, slim, soft-spoken blonde named Emily whom he’d met in college and fallen for hard despite her distinct lack of curves, had become a victim of his little problem. They snatched her in a white van on her walk home from work, and since then they’d been sending him pictures and videos of the only woman he’d ever loved being tortured. Tortured with a method he found so overwhelmingly arousing it was almost painful. They were feeding her.
Fattening her up. Stuffing her constantly, far past her limits, and the pictures and videos were showing the toll it was taking on her. She’d begun to put on weight surprisingly quickly, and a little over a month after his first failure to pay what he owed, she’d begun to chub out significantly. He was working as hard as he could, doing everything he could think of to make money all while taking extra shifts, but all his efforts were futile. He was paying off the money as quickly as he could, but the organization added the cost of each and every morsel of food that they shoved into Emily’s plumping face to his bill, and the meals were adding up. Each day he worked a 10-hour shift only to return home to more and more footage of grizzly, tattooed gang members shoving pastries into sweet Emily’s mouth while she cried and begged them not to make her fat, begged them to let her go and stop stuffing her into a rounded sphere of food.
The worst part of it all? Emily had no idea. No idea who they were, no idea why she’d been taken. No idea that the reason her kidnappers were bloating her up with junk and grease and pinching her swelling sides was because her own husband had a twisted kink he’d never shared with her. He was horrified, of course, horrified to see her that way, horrified to know she was scared and in pain, but it didn’t mean his interests had changed. More than once he’d had to stop a video of Emily’s torture midway through, finding himself growing far too excited to continue in good conscious.
The head of security also left him constant, taunting messages detailing Emily’s gain and how much worse everything would get if he didn’t pay his debts. Debts that were becoming impossible to pay as Emily’s stuffing capacity increased. She could put away so much food now. He watched her in the videos, cramming fast food into her now chubby cheeks, gulping milkshakes composed of heavy cream, sugar, and olive oil for extra calories, and inhaling a box of donuts like it was nothing, and it was becoming clear that she was growing hungrier, that she could put away more and more.
It didn’t mean she accepted the situation any better however, and each video showed her panic reaching new heights, he hands rubbing her fattening stomach as she moaned in agony and burped nonstop, unable to get out a word between the loud, long, deep belches that she clearly couldn’t control.
He sighed. He’d just received another message from the head of security. He winced and pressed play, bracing as if for impact.
“I’m unsurprised yet still disappointed that your disregard for proper repayment of your debts has extended to a disregard for the well-being of your wife. Pity. That said, there will be no bargaining. There will be no negotiation. You’ll pay what you owe, or Emily will continue to pay for it. And she’s certainly paying for it. Just wait until you see the most recent footage, she’s really blimping up nicely. I can’t believe she could put that much away. She couldn’t believe it either.
She kept begging us to let her go, begging us to stop forcing feeding her. She couldn’t stop touching her body and talking about how fat she was getting, talking about how helpless she was and how big we were making her. She was whining and crying. She talked about you, actually. She said ‘Please tell my husband I love him.’ How sweet. What would she say if she knew you were the reason she’s being inflated like a bloated-up prized pig? What would she say if she knew you were a sick freak who liked it, who wanted to watch her grow and grow. She probably wouldn’t love you as much then, would she?
I want my money. Now. You have two months before your growing girl finds out why all this is happening to her.”
The promised duration passed so much more quickly than he would’ve liked, and he found himself in the exact same position he’d been in a month ago; broke. All his money went towards the debt repayment, but with the amount Emily was eating, it barely made a dent. He had nothing, had sold nearly everything he owned, but it wasn’t even close to enough. And poor Emily was facing the consequences.
She had absolutely exploded. She was bursting with fat from every possible angle, the swollen, fatty rolls she’d grown always bulging out of the ill-fitting clothes they gave her. Her little belly had ballooned into a perpetually bloated gut and protruded further and further forward, and her arms had transformed into wobbling fatty hams. Her thighs were dangerously thick, and she’d grown so fat and so lazy that she’d begun to struggle to get up on her own, begun to pant heavily just from the workout of stuffing her face.
She ended each night eating herself stuck on her back like a beached whale, her bare gut mounding up into the air and wobbling lightly with each movement despite how packed it was. She still begged her captors for release, for a respite from the caloric onslaught, and while his heart was breaking for her, he found it difficult to ignore just how luscious she was becoming, how she was beginning to look like the gainers in the videos he used to watch. Now, with his time run out, all he could do was wait. He knew what was coming.
Finally, around 6pm, the text came, a video attachment, just as he’d expected. The clip began with moaning, as many of Emily’s stuffing clips did, but this one was special. As he watched, his now enormous wife heaved herself into a standing position, every roll of flab on her body jiggling incessantly as she fought desperately against the gravity that was weighing her mass down.
“Here piggy piggy,” an off-camera voice called tauntingly.
She waddled slowly towards the voice, grunting from the effort as the blubber coating her body undulated and her fattened thighs rubbed past one another.
She finally stopped after a few feet that took her far longer than it should’ve, then sighed and held out a hand.
“What do you want?” asked the voice.
“I want my donut,” Emily admitted quietly, still panting lightly. “You promise if I walked over here I’d get a donut.”
The voice laughed, and a donut was handed to Emily which she devoured greedily.
“Say hi to your husband,” the voice instructed once she was licking her fingers.
She looked up, confusion etched all over her unrecognizably swollen face.
“My husband?“ she repeated.
“In fact,” the voice went on. “Thank him. Thank your husband for turning you into an overfed pile of blubber so fat she can barely waddle.”
“What?“ she repeated breathlessly, clearly too shocked to properly respond.
“This is all because of him,” the voice confirmed. Every pound you gained. This has always been his fantasy, his ultimate desire. And now he made it happen. With you.”
“This was his fault? He did this to me?” she whined, grabbing a handful of her blubbery belly in a tubby hand. “He turned me into a bloated, burping tub of lard?”
She was handed another donut, and despite her words, began to eat it right away.
“I’m so fat,” she groaned through a mouthful of sugary dough. “I’m such a fat hog.”
“You sure are,” the voice confirmed cloyingly. “Just like he wanted.”
“I can’t believe he did this to me,” she repeated, shaking her flab more aggressively. “I can’t believe he turned me into a walking pile of fat. This is so humiliating. I’m disgusting.”
“He doesn’t think so,” the voice corrected. “A few more pounds and you’ll be his wet dream. Talk into the camera. Tell him you’re gonna get even fatter.”
“No!“ she protested, once again licking her fingers.
“Do it, piggy, or no more donuts.”
She turned to look directly into the camera.
“I can’t believe you’re the one that did this to me, I can’t believe that the only reason I got this fat is cause you like it. This is all so humiliating. I just can’t stop-“
She burped loudly, interrupting herself.
“I just can’t stop eating,” she finished.
The camera turned, and the image of his porked-up wife was replaced by the intimidating visage of the casino's head of security.
“We’re gonna fatten her into immobility,” he promised. “You had your chance to pay your debt. Now Emily will. She’ll pay with every bite.”
The org member laughed and the screen went dark, leaving him to consider his own reflection and the terrible, titillating fate he’d just resigned Emily to.
*I hope you enjoyed this commission! This was a pretty different story for me but it was really fun to write, I may rework the first chapter for pacing and expand it into a full series depending on whether or not my Patreon readers are interested. For more weight gain fiction, weight gain series, weight gain audios, weight gain POVs, weight gain roleplay, and personalized weight gain commissions, you can check out my Patreon! I have a ton of tier options for whatever you may be looking for. Thanks so much for reading:)*
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