stories about weight gain and gluttony

[purgatorylayby]

The rest of your life

warning: dark morbid themes with this one so if not your thing stay away

You open your eyes to that dripping sound again. A slow steady drop that pulsed into head and matches the ponderous heartbeat you feel in your chest. You know it's either the insulin or the remnants of shake in the tank above your bed. Oh how you hoped for the latter. A sugary, greasy taste lingers in your mouth as you sluggishly raise your head, looking up towards your feeding tube hanging tantalisingly above you. Instinctively, almost without thought you move your head toward the nozzle of the funnel, carefully placed just in reach. You could still technically move your arms but anything more than trying to lift those plush lard filled sacks you call your upper arm leaves you wheezing and breathless. This was much easier anyway. It was second nature at this point, years of sucking down fattening slop had meant you have almost perfected the art of it, if it could be called art. As you suckle the remnants of the shake, you lift a hand up and rubbed your chest, it always got tight when the taste of the cream filled concoction hits your lips and you can feel the rhythmic thump speed up as you run a hand across the single tally mark tattooed on your chest like a badge of honour.

It was funny really, you'd never meant to get this big. You'd always craved it though - deep down. Pushed it away, forced yourself to be normal. It just came back stronger though every time. Every indulgence, every sweet treat, every sneaking glance at the calories you've inhaled. Your secret. Not that it can ever be anymore. Your bloated frame cant fit a bedsheets, let alone clothes. No hiding the hedonistic corpulence that overtook you.

You utter pig.

There's no turning back, there never was and you know it. You are as much to blame as anyone, you're no better than fattend livestock at this point and you relish that. Every milestone a trophy to your greed, your addiction. Your gut hanging past your knees, oxygen cannula to waddle, your final steps. You live for it, as much as you can call being an immobile lard pile living. It's your purpose.

You exist to grow.

So here you lay, entrapped by your own pathetic bloated frame BEGGING for more. More fat, more food, more soft piggy lard. An addicted sow that just can't help themselves. Each limit reached and pushed beyond , each feeding session requiring more and more and more. No matter what it takes you will grow. Faster, heavier, fatter. This is the rest of your short fattend life pig, so get comfortable because we have only just begun.

[smorgasbordgurls]

[teasingfeeder]

“Look at her! Look at what you’ve done to her! She was an athlete when she went off to college, 130lbs at most!”

Your GF and you are visiting her moms house and her mom is justifiably horrified at the size of her daughter. You met her freshmen year and have spent the past 4 years fattening her like an absolute hog. This past year she’s gained way more than the prior 3 and her moms finally put it together that you’re enabling/encouraging her.

“And now you tell me she hasn’t been to class all year, and she hasn’t graduated! What has she done all year? Eat? Because by the looks if her that is all she’s done, she’s a whale!”

She couldn’t be more on the nose with that one. Your porker got too lazy, and was often to stuffed, to waddle to classes, so most the time she just didnt. A few failed classes later and she had no choice but to drop out. What followed was a year of her being beached on your couch or bed, stuffing herself silly. The shame of being such a fatass that she dropped out, combined with her fetish for being fattened and helpless, and you constantly providing her food, propelling her to eat more than ever.

“We all thought she was huge when she came home last summer, but this… THIS! This is ridiculous. She’s getting winded just getting off the couch. Nobody should be this big, especially not at 22 years old”

Last summer she waddled home just shy of 300lbs and her family started to seriously worry. The years before that she was just getting chubby in their eyes, or maybe just fat, and so she was subject to some light hearted teasing. But nearing 300, she was so big everyone either avoided the topic or tried to give her advice on cutting back and looking after her health. Obviously the advice had no affect. The opposite in fact, as soon as she left after last years visit she was gorging herself out of shame and horniness. She is now over 400lbs, 410 in fact on the scale a few weeks ago, and no one knows how to react other than shock.

“Oh my God! Is she eating even now?! God does she ever stop anymore? Or do you just keep bringing her more and more junk food”

From where your both standing you obviously can’t see her head, just her massive rear end pushed into the air by her food and blubber inflated belly, the pale underside of which is visible between her thick jiggly thighs. But the slight jiggle of her fat ass to the sound of chewing between desperate pants and moans, makes it pretty obvious she’s shoving something into her mouth as fast as she can chew and swallow.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you! The fact that my daughter is a pathetic whale”

You were enjoying it. You had never been more proud of your hog. Laying there on display in front of her own family, and still shoving cookies into her mouth. Obviously no mother wants to see her daughter like this. Especially when 4 years ago she’d lay in that same place tanning, easily able to fit her whole body on the board. Now she’s twice as wide as it, and her gut is so filled with blubber and food it pushes her big ass so high in the air her knees can’t even reach the extra 2 inches to the ground.

“Jesus did she just moan?!”

As if her obese body being on display like this wasn’t shameful enough, your hog is so addicted to gorging herself she sometimes moans as she eats, forgeting other people are around

“God you’re both enjoying this aren’t you! You know what, I give up, she’s all yours. If she wants to be a fat pig, then I’m not gonna stop her. This is pathetic”

As her mom storms off you go over to your piggies side and give one of her rear cheeks and affectionate pat “did you hear that big girl? You’re all mine. Your mom’s given up. I guess the sight of all this blubber you’ve gained this year combined with you moaning between bites again was too much for her”

Your piggy blushes as she didn’t realize she was moaning, in fact she was so focused on her eating she barely even realized a conversation was happening behind her. Though had she heard it, the humiliation likely would’ve just turned her on.

You move your hand lower on your pigs back side and give the underside of her belly a pat between her thighs “and since your all mine now piggy, you’ve got a lot of growing still to do”

This time the moan your pig let’s out is undeniable. She’s desperate. “Please… fuck me” she says “right here, I don’t care who sees, I need this, I’ll keep eating the whole time, I promise”

[mrbagel-deactivated20250516]

Making Her A Meal In The Middle Of The Night

All she has to do is whisper "I'm hungry" and I'm up and out of bed and headed to the kitchen before the word "hungry" is out of her mouth.

It's pancakes, usually. Lots of butter and syrup and she likes a nice big glass of milk with it. We have a great iron griddle and the pancakes come out perfect now.

I don't turn the lights on all the way. She sits up and says "Mmmm!" and she eats pretty quickly. Unless she's just fallen back asleep, which happens.

"Wake me up when that happens," she says.

I watch her eat her pancakes, blissing out. Especially if I've used fresh blueberries.

She is finished. The fork goes down on the plate. The glass of milk is held up to her mouth, and she drains it. All gone! The plate is held out for me to take. No words. Just "Done!"

I put the plate on the side table, gently wipe her mouth, stroke her hair, give her a kiss - she tastes like syrup, yum! - and ease her back down onto the pillow. She is nice and full. "Full tummy/Food that's yummy!"

I lie next to her and slide my hand over her swollen 60-inch belly made of cookies and ice cream. She makes lovely mmmm noises. She loves having her tummy rubbed. My fingers sink into the deep layers of marshmallow fluff. She is a blubber-belly! (I don't say this, I just think it!) "Wow, she sure is fat! Look at all this. Jeez!"

Eventually she turns on her side and I spoon her from behind, fingering her fat rolls, softly kissing her neck. She likes my fingers in her rolls.

Soon my angel is sleeping.

I look down at her bloated form and smile to myself that she got about 1,800 calories in the middle of the night, then back to bed.

No wonder she blew out the thighs of her jeans!

And it's all my fault, lol.

[lardchitect]

Facility 2

Surprisingly, the chair that you have been strapped into is incredibly comfortable, which is good because your captors haven't let you out of it since you got here. What is less comfortable is your painfully bloated belly, the sludge being pumped into it and the tube crammed into your throat. You're always being fed, always being fattened up. No matter how stuffed your belly is, they always seem to have more for you.

It's humiliating, the way they force-feed you, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. You can barely breathe, let alone talk or resist. They just keep pumping more and more food into your belly until it feels like it's going to burst. You're always full, always stuffed, and always uncomfortable.

At first, you tried to fight it. You struggled and squirmed and cried and screamed. But the tube in your mouth prevented you from making any real noise and the bindings on the chair were too strong. And your captors never let up, they just kept forcefeeding you. They were relentless.

Now, you've given up. There's no fighting it, and you're tired of struggling. So, you've resigned yourself to the fact that you're just going to keep getting fatter. Your stomach aches constantly, and your belly is always cramping and bloated from being kept stuffed to its limita. You can almost feel the extra pounds settling on your hips and thighs, stretching your skin as you heavier and softer with every passing moment.

But there's nothing you can do to stop it. You can feel your fat jiggling as the attendants poke and prod your body. They're fascinated by how your body is changing, how it's growing flabbier and more obese. They measure you every week, measuring your belly and your thighs and your tits. They record every pound you've gained, every new inch of soft flesh. They've even started recording videos and photos of you, capturing every change as you continue to grow and expand.

They talk to each other about you, too. Like you're just some product being produced, instead of a human being. They talk about how fast you're gaining weight, how big your stomach is getting, how your breasts are filling out. They talk about the stretchmarks on your belly and thighs, the way your skin is starting to sag. It would be less disturbing if they were just perverts but they're all so... Clinical. Professional. Obsessed with the numbers, the measurements, the data.

The tube in your mouth keeps pumping more and more sludge into your stomach. It's never-ending. It's a constant stream of fattening calories. You can feel it filling and stretching your stomach. You can feel it sloshing inside you and your body absorbing it, feel it turning into fat.

Eventually, as the tube is forcing more sludge into your belly, a team of workers arrives with what looks like some sort of crane with what looks like a sling on it. They come towards you and untie you from the chair, and then they carefully maneuver the sling under your bloated, stuffed body and lift you out of the chair. You want to say that you fought back or tried to escape when your restraints were removed, but the truth is that that was impossible. Your muscles were so atrophied from being restrained and your body so fat and heavy that you could barely even move your arms without your heart rate skyrocketing and your breathing getting heavy.

As the workers maneuver you out of the room and into a long hallway, you wonder where they're taking you. You wonder what fresh horrors await you. You've been locked in that room for so long that you don't even know how long it's been. Days, weeks, months? Time has lost all meaning. All you know is that your life is now focused entirely on the next feeding, the next meal. You pass by hundreds of cells like the one you were held in, each with a bloated, fattened girl inside. Some of them have clearly been fattened for years, their bodies obscenely huge and grossly bloated. Others are newer, and not as fat yet.

As you are pushed down the hallway in the sling, you can feel every jolt and jostle as your body jiggles wildly in response. You can feel the pain in your bloated belly as it sways and bounces. You can feel the pressure of the sludge inside you, the way it bloats your stomach and makes it hard to breathe. The worst part is the hunger. Without the tube constantly forcing food into your belly, it only takes a few minutes for you to be become ravenously hungry again and while you once hated being force-fed, you realize that you have become dependent on it.

Finally, the sling comes to a stop and the workers pull it back out of the hallway and into a larger room. In the center of the room is a massive bed, much larger than any king-sized bed you've ever seen. Above the bed is an array of mirrors... and another feeding machine. As the workers begin to set you down on the bed, you can see yourself in the mirror, a huge, overfed, bloated mess. Your belly is stretched out and bloated, and your fat thighs and ass look wider than you are tall. Your tits are enormous, hanging down onto your belly, and your face is red and sweaty. You look like a grossly obese pig.

Once the sling is removed, the workers don't even bother strapping you down onto the bed, as you are far too fat to resist. They just hook the tube up to the feeding machine and turn it on, and soon a steady stream of sludge is flowing down the tube and into your mouth. You can't help but moan and squirm as the machine fills your stomach, as the pressure and pain become almost unbearable. Your belly grows rounder and heavier with each passing second, and as you realize that this is only the beginning, you begin to cry. This is only the next stage of your captivity. They're going to keep force-feeding you, keep fattening you up, and there's nothing you can do to stop them.

[epigstolary]

Sedentary

You didn’t set out to eat yourself to immobility. And even now, you’re not sure you’re technically immobile. But mobility is a relative thing, and compared to the average fatty, you’d probably qualify. Let’s just say you never tried very hard to preserve what mobility you started with.

Which wasn’t much, if we’re honest. Even when you were still able to do ordinary activities like walking, shopping, hiking, or fitting into a car, you still avoided going outside as much as possible. I used to watch you laboring under your oversized belly, trying to maintain a normal walk even as its pendulous wobble threw off your balance, and the bulk of your thick thighs rubbing together turned your gait into a graceless, plodding step.

If you had your choice, though, the couch was about as far as you wanted to venture on any given day; and even then, it would have been rare for you to do so unless you could find something entertaining on the tv and make sure a couple of snacks and a large soda were within reach. Once you were planted there, you didn’t want to move; and anything you might want was referred to me to bring, since you didn’t want to leave your comfy position for it. I, of course, was more than happy to oblige, bringing you all manner of fatty and sugary snacks to keep you satisfied while you relaxed, and letting you shovel plate after plate of food into your stationary gut. That kind of treatment left your dimple in the couch getting wider and deeper on a pretty consistent basis, a testament to your growing waistline and burgeoning behind.

The changes in your movement and stamina were painfully obvious on those rare occasions when you had to leave the house for something — some event, or friendly get-together that you couldn’t get out of. You’d be huffing and puffing almost as soon as you’d made it out the front door, your thickened thighs and ass and belly fighting to escape from whatever undersized outfit you’d crammed them into. You’d have to labor down the walk — weight sloshing from one side to the other, flabby arms swinging to try and stay balanced, cellulite jiggling with each heavy, barely-controlled step. By the time you got to the car, you’d have to sit and take a minute to catch your breath before you could even attempt to squeeze yourself all the way inside. That got to be a workout on its own, too.

To your credit, you tried to keep yourself moving. Those attempts never went as far as cutting back on all the junk you were guzzling down, of course. But you’d make a gesture toward fitness by attempting a walk up and down the street every so often, your workout clothes looking more cartoonishly stretched over your bloated, expanding form with each passage of the couple of weeks between outings. I always encouraged you to go for one of your pitifully short walks because I loved to watch them — loved to see the skinnier you inside that blubbery body having to try and push hundreds of pounds of fat out of the way just to move around. Arms and legs wrapped in layers of fat so heavy that just lifting them to move required considerable effort. Jiggling side rolls big enough to get in the way of your swinging arms, leaving you making an uncanny rotating movement to try and keep your balance. A belly and fatpad so full and low and heavy that your thighs had to push them up and out of the way before you could take a step forward. And two massive globes atop the backs of your thighs, alternately rising and falling with each step, each weighty enough to throw you off your stride, together making it impossible for your piggish body to keep up any kind of consistent pace. It’s no wonder you ended every walk completely exhausted and ready to rest up and gorge yourself for days afterward.

It stood to reason that this ridiculous pretense couldn’t last — the idea that you could keep packing on weight indefinitely as long as you could prove you were still able to “exercise” with a greater or lesser amount of success. Once you weren’t able to make it past the neighbor’s house without your face turning scarlet — without being so lightheaded you couldn’t see anything but stars, and so winded you could barely breathe — you had to acknowledge that you’d eaten yourself too fat to go out any longer. You wouldn’t be waddling any further than the end of the driveway from then on.

But even that realization wasn’t enough to get you to put the fork down once in a while. If anything, I think it took away what little pressure there was to avoid completely losing yourself in gluttony. With nowhere to go, there was no reason to try to still be able to go anywhere. And so, even your trips to the couch became irregular and increasingly infrequent. You could just as easily surround yourself with food and keep yourself entertained in bed, and less and less of your time was spent out of it.

The results were, needless to say, pretty striking. What little shape you’d managed to maintain over the years disappeared almost immediately, your overinflated but still recognizable arms and legs spreading and deforming into shapeless puddles of lard pooling around your body. It rapidly became a chore just to move them, even as your belly grew past your knees and well out of reach, and began to bury your body under a ballooning mound of flab. When you did muster the effort to swing your lard-covered legs around and haul that enormous belly into a sitting position, you still had your thick and growing ass spreading out behind you, anchoring you to the mattress. It was no wonder you resisted having to carry all that enormous weight, draped all over your body and jiggling with every lumbering step, anywhere else.

That was when the specter of immobility started to haunt you. You were gaining weight, sure; pounds of ponderous blubber every day. But the desire for ease left your muscles weakening at the same time. It just kept getting harder and harder to heave yourself up, and each time you found more of yourself to have to heave. Eventually, imperceptibly, you just stopped trying. There was never a day when you Became Immobile, no triumphant arrival at that adipose apex. The intervals between getting up just became gradually longer as your fat continued to swell and grow heavier. You adapted more and more of your tasks to a laying position in bed, satisfying yourself with the effort to roll over or reposition your impractical girth. At this point, I can’t remember the last time you got up, or even tried. Months? Months, at least.

And now, even the little movement you’ve come to rely on is getting harder to do. Your flabby arms, fat rolls threatening to overwhelm your wrists, quiver under the strain each time you have to reach for the tv remote or another calorie-saturated snack. Your legs burn like a normal person’s after an hour of CrossFit just from trying to throw their lumpy, inhuman bulk across the bed to roll over on your stomach. It takes active effort for you to breathe even when you’re sitting still, your lungs needing the extra muscle to push up against the crushing of all the lard collected in your tits and belly. It’s not surprising, then, that any attempts at movement leave you flushed, sweaty, winded, and looking like you might have a heart attack any second now. Far better for me to get you moving by grabbing a roll and pushing in the general direction you want to go.

So does that make you immobile? Sort of. But who knows — maybe if you had to, or really wanted to, you could still jiggle your way to the edge of the bed, heave yourself upright, and roll the corpulent pile of lard your body has become onto your two legs without them breaking under the strain. Maybe you could even manage a few steps without passing out. Still mobility of a kind, right?

But you’d never try it. You’re far too comfortable sitting on your beanbag-chair ass and seeing how much food you can put away before your next official meal. And if that’s the case — if you’re not going anywhere anyway, and are never going to change anything to stop your slide further into hyper-morbid obesity… does it really make a difference whether you’re technically mobile?

Just keep eating like you’re still trying to get there.

[epigstolary]

Deaf Ears

The half-eaten burger is still sitting on top of its wrapper, right where you left it on your nightstand. Three patties, six slices of cheese, smothered in grilled onions and special sauce. Each one easily over 1,000 calories. This was the third one you’d had today.

I tried to warn you about what would happen if you kept gaining at the rate you were going. I’d hoped that one of the many red flags about what you were doing to yourself would get your attention. That you might stop and take stock of what was happening when you got too fat to fit in the driver’s seat of your car. Or the passenger seat. Or when you started needing the cane to walk because your legs couldn’t handle the weight. Or when you moved on to the bariatric walker. Or when you needed the hoists and handles just to get out of bed.

But no, none of that made any impression. If anything, as your body grew and swelled and ballooned with new fat, you relished it. You spent more and more of your time just fondling the widening sweep of your belly, the plumper and fuller curve of your chest, the multiplying peaks and valleys of your side rolls. I could tell you enjoyed the bounce and wobble of your increasingly full, heavy, pendulous ass and hips on the increasingly brief occasions when you got up to walk anywhere. Having to lumber around, lugging the weight of your burgeoning thighs and blobby calves, both increasingly shapeless and unidentifiable, was a constant reminder of just how much your fat was taking over your body.

It shouldn’t have been any surprise, then, that you let the gains accelerate — wanted them to. For every time I suggested you try to at least gain clean, you insisted on getting whatever the most fattening, sugary, greasy, caloric option might be ten times over. You kept me busy making sure you were never without something you could be guzzling down, never in any danger of not being completely full, let alone hungry. The truly embarrassing amount of food in our kitchen, all of which would get dumped down your throat in a matter of days and replaced by the next batch, never fazed you. If anything, on the rare occasions you stopped and realized how much garbage you were putting away, your pudgy face would beam with obscene pride, any hint of shame at your condition — if you even felt it — buried by lust for the next family-size serving or tray of junk food coming your way.

But today was the day you stopped being able to ignore the consequences of indulging your worst habits. Nobody but you was surprised that an 800 (900? 1,000? We’ve been flying blind since you crushed the scale) pound hog is unsteady on their feet. You were making your usual stumbling shuffle from the bed to the couch and, too eager to have your morning box of coffee cakes, sent all your fat wobbling the wrong direction. At your size the walker wasn’t any help as you twisted, heard a snap, and went down in a blubbery heap. There was no way I could get you up from there, even if your fall hadn’t broken something.

Maybe the trip with the paramedics — having to let your enormously bloated body be manhandled onto a bariatric stretcher and bundled into an ambulance — will humble you a little from here on out. Maybe you’ll ease up on the gaining, and the constant eating. Or, probably more likely, being stuck in bed while you recover and the stress of trying to rehab a broken bone at your size will just drive you to gorge yourself to oblivion.

I’m not sure you could even stop if you tried, at this point. You and your body are too used to the constant flood of calories, sugar, endorphins to give that up, or even reduce it by much. You’re probably looking at some pretty steep gains, at a time when you’re least able to compensate for them, unless you do something drastic. And like usual, you’re probably going to insist that I keep a steady flow of garbage coming to you while you’re at the hospital — which definitely won’t make it any easier for you to maintain your weight. We’ll be lucky if you’re still small enough to get you back home once your treatment is done. More likely, you’ll end up ballooning too big for any ambulance to be able to cram all your lard inside. Too big to measure in pounds anymore, but instead how much of your hospital bed you take up — or overflow. Someone the staff talk about in hushed whispers as they watch you eat yourself out of the last few things your shapeless blob body is still barely able to do.

I tried to warn you, and you didn’t listen. This is your last chance to turn things around and save yourself from spending the rest of your life like this. But the text you just sent me asking to bring another slew of burgers to the hospital tells me you’re probably not going to take it. That you’re probably ending up inhumanly fat, immobile, and helplessly buried in your own bulk, no matter how much you may eventually come to regret it.

Guess that means I get to see just how much bulk we can make in the time you have left.

[peneloperouge]

Wouldn't you love to be two, three, four times your current size? Your belly constantly stuffed and hanging towards your knees...

Your bulbous ass jutting out a couple feet behind you making it difficult to get through doorways.

All while you can't find the self control to put the fork down. Your bank account constantly running dry from all the takeout and snacks. But you just can't stop consuming.

You just want to be oh so soft and heavy.

With plump tits sitting atop an incredibly hefty stomach slowly sagging downwards.

You crave such a delightful life.

Cooking, tasting, swelling...

You need to feel your thighs jiggle and rub when you walk.

You need to be bigger. So do it.

Outgrowing your clothes is the next step.

Eat until they're too tight to be worn in public.

Then upgrade to the next size up. Make it two since I know you will not be able to slow down or even stop.

Take up space.

Keep making lavish meals and super size your portions. Keep stretching your stomach until it's impossible to be full.

Let yourself grow. Live a piggish life and eat whatever you want. Never deny yourself.

Listen to me and keep piling on the pounds.

Nothing else matters anyways, just keep eating.

Dedicate the rest of your life to food.

Swell.

Feast until you can't swallow another bite, digest, then repeat.

You'll love how your body changes and turns every extra calorie into excess fat.

Your arms will be too heavy to lift.

Your fingers and toes will resemble sausages.

The lack of exercise will leave you shapeless and weak.

The vicious cycle of gorging and sleeping will help you expand leaving you stuck permanently in bed.

Your weight crushed lungs will need assistance so an oxygen tank will be needed after you've eaten yourself so big.

But you need this. You will always need more.

Even with declining health and a doomed future, you will only live to eat.

Until you've eaten...just too much. 💋

[queerfeedismlove]

You're so fat. But you keep on eating. Come on, eat this last donut...good job. Look at you. Whining for my affection. You're such a needy pig. I remember when you could run a mile in 6 minutes. Now, you need to take a break when you walk-- no, waddle-- to the kitchen. You usually just plop down in front of the fridge and start eating. You're close to immobility. But not quite. You can still walk. Barely. It's hilarious. You use to have such a small waist...a flat stomach. You had abs. Now look at you. Your double chin, sweaty and covered in food...your chest, soft tits resting on either side of your gargantuan belly, which you stuff full of disgusting, greasy, fattening slop. Your thighs are covered in lard, huge folds that barely support you. It's disgusting. Your kankles are the only thing keeping you up. What's that? You want more food? No wonder you broke the couch. Don't worry, though. We have this nice comfortable bed. And when you outgrow that...well, you'll live like what you're meant to be. A pig. You'll live in your own filth. You'll be my prize hog...yes. My greasy, fat hog. You'll easily outgrow this room. The only way I can see your face is by the tube you're fed by. The food that goes through that tube? Protein shakes and lard. We'll see what happens first, will your engorged heart, arteries filled with fat stop or will you burst open from the disgusting shit you're fed?

[queerfeedismlove]

Holy shit

You hardly look like a person anymore. Your double chin has become a triple chin, your fatpad simply looks like a third belly roll. And as you stuff your pig mouth with a concoction of grease, heavy cream, and butter, I can't help but think. You used to be so skinny. You could hardly clean your plate. It started with adding dessert onto your diet, every night. Then adding more meals in the day. As you softened up and stuffed yourself before bed, you only wanted more. You started to eat 5, 6 meals a day. You grew beyond chubby, your belly hung over your pants constantly. I watched your shirts grow in size with your humongous belly, your pants tear. You kept growing. Once you hit 500, you stopped wearing clothes. You'd walk from the bedroom to the fridge. Then one day it became a waddle. Your diet got worse. From veggies to ice cream, protein to fast food. You just gorged endlessly on shit. Like a pig. Then you stopped walking. Your muscles couldn't take it. You sat in bed, all day. I brought you your slop. You'd eat it without a care of what you looked like. I bought you a bariatric bed so you could sit on your giant ass comfortably. Now look at you. Your legs are spread so far to make space for your gut. You've lost control of your bowels, you know what pure grease does to your insides. Last month, I hooked you up to a heart moniter to see your fat enveloped heart try to keep you alive. And you suck the slop down, your belly grows tighter. Honestly, if you pop from how much you're eating, I wouldn't be surprised. You're just too fucking desperate, aren't you? You'll just engorge yourself until your little piggy heart just bursts. So go on, take another 10000 calories. It'll do your piggy body well.

[peneloperouge]

You live for me now

You live for me. Eating and eating yourself heavier for me. You are my little pet. My fat hog. I want you stuffed at all times. I want you to be record breakingly obese. I want people to see what I’ve created. A grotesquely obese unrecognizable blob of a human. I want people to gawk at you when I put you on display. I want your insides stretched so big that its impossible to keep you full. You have submitted your life to being my subject and I will feed your desires. I will start by feeding you more and more every day until you belly buldges past your pants. I want you to pop the buttons from them by sitting down and letting the pressure do the rest. I want your face to grow softer and your ass to swell bigger. You are my pig now and you will eat until I say you can stop. I know you love being teased you fat sloppy hog. I’ll push you and make you eat until you think you will explode. You might cry but its part of my plan. I want your gut to turn into two big doughy rolls for me to play with while you eat. I will feed you for hours on end and measure you while you grow. You will be my fat storing piglet. After you have glutted yourself up to five hundred pounds I will get you an extra large bariatric bed to grow into. Even if I have to tie you down and force feed you to that size. I know you would love it anyway. Your body will be piling on so much weight so quickly that your muscles will give up on you ever walking again. I will rub your fat engorged body with lotion to keep your skin soft. Your belly will be slumped between your legs forcing them apart at all times. Your arms heavy and saggy laying uselessly to your sides. Plump and fat just for me. But thats not enough. Nine hundred pounds is not enough. I need you to be extremely obese. Your body needs to be filled with so much fat that you are basically floating in a sea of lard. At this point you will not be able to resist. Plead all you want I’ll just stuff your piggy mouth with cake and watch you eat it slowly. I’ll hook you to a heart monitor to watch your heart become weaker while you swell. Thats the downside of being a pure hog. It won’t stop me though. I’ll roll you over onto your giant pillowy belly and rub your globular asscheeks while your face is buried in a trough. I will break your will and soon you will become a greedy feeding machine. Eating faster and faster slopping food all over yourself. Your body inflating with cellulite and fat rolls. My goal is too make you so incredibly obese that no one will recognize you. I will fatten you up until you can’t move a single muscle. A mountainous pile of lard with a feeding tube of butter funneling into your plump lips. A mess of fat rolls piled on top of your body, pressing you into the bed. I want your heart to struggle while you gorge endlessly on a mix of cream and butter. I want your fattened cheeks to be so swollen that your eyes are forced shut so you can’t see what you’ve become. A fat, lifeless pile of blubber. All for me to feed until you either burst or your heart explodes. Which will happen first?

[teasedfatty]

The Fat Sister

 the fat sister                                                                                                                                                                    

chapter 1

  Lina sat alone while the other girls danced. Her soft belly pressed against the bar, buttocks and thighs overflowed the stool.  She sipped her beer and noticed the bartender’s butt.

Then she heard her sister behind talking to someone:

“And, OF COURSE, you remember Lina.”

Lina turned and, suddenly, felt every one of the 200 lbs she had gained. Her ex-boyfriend smiled, then wrapped his arms around her.

“Lin, so good to see you…Wow.”

Here it comes, she thought. The look of shock, the casual glance at my huge belly.

“You look so cute.” He said and kissed her cheek.

She blushed, not expecting such  affection.

He pulled away – she wished he wouldn’t– and held her gaze. Lina blushed again, now deeper.    They used to have so much fun together, and god she missed the sex.

“Hi Rory. You look good. Back to visit your sister?”

He smiled and glanced again at her belly.

“Back for good. Been here a week now and settled in, just.” He held her soft shoulders. “Do you mind if I kiss you again? I’m so excited to see you.”

This time he kissed her lips and a shiver went through Lina’s body. Oh god, his kisses. Her sister tried to drag Rory onto the dance floor, instead he slid closer to Lina and continued to chat. He pressed his body against hers and she ached to be with him again. God she let herself get so fat. And she loved it. She loved food and the way the fat felt on her body, the way it made her look. Briefly she indulged a fantasy: Rory liked fat girls. Really fat girls like her.  They had been in love once, she had been in such good shape then… Sigh.

Rory moved closer and placed his hand on her back. He squeezed the thick chub pressed out by her bra strap. He leaned close to her ear.

“You feel so good next to me.”

Lina couldn’t believe what was happening and let out a small moan. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck.

“Let’s go to your place. Please, Lina, please. I only came here because your sister said you were.”

Her stomach tightened. She stood without speaking, embarrassed to be so brazenly hit-on, overcome with need for him.

“Follow me to the apartment.”

Twenty minutes later they were in Lina’s room and Rory had pulled her stretchy skirt to her knees. He slapped and grabbed her belly and pushed his face into the bloated, flabby mound.

He squeezed her hips and pressed his lips again into her soft body. They fell to the bed as she got one breast free. Rory attached his mouth to the nipple and then kissed and licked the edge of the areola. Lina grabbed his c*ck and attempted to straddle him. He pushed her onto her back and kissed her plump cheek and fat neck.

“Not yet.” he said.

His cock pressed into her soft flank. He whispered how he had missed her, how often thought of her. She could feel it. He tugged on her fat pubic mound and lightly kissed her tits. Sex was so different now that she was fat. She struggled to take control, but Rory easily held her down. She panted as he grabbed her heavy thighs and then teased her wet pussy with his fingers. It had been so long that she started to beg.

Rory took pity and he pushed inside her.  His cock felt so good. It has always been the perfect fit. He pushed deeper.

“Call me fat, Rory, please, tease me for putting on weight… please, I need it.”

He was as hard and swollen, eager for her. If he preferred thin girls, it certainly didn’t show.

The  bed scraped and slid on the floor as they began to f*ck, the frame wrenched and creaked and Lina prayed the joints would hold.

“God Lina, you’ve gotten  FAT. So f*cking fat.” His stroke increased speed. “Oh shit, your sister is so thin, and you’re so FA–”

“God yes, I’m a fat f*cking pig, Call me a fat f*cking pig, please, say it, loud, LOUDER.”

“Lina, you fat f*cking pig, just look at yourself… all that jelly, oh god… that GUT. So flabby, so out of shape, jesus what happen–”

Lina screamed and came hard. That was exactly …exactly what she needed.   She had always been the thin, sexy one and now Alexa was. And Alexa had been enjoying  every minute of her newfound advantage.  At some point, between kissing and f^cking and laughing and catching up, Rory and Lina fell asleep. 

chapter 2

  Panic banged in Lina’s stomach. She had fallen in love with Rory all over again. Maybe she never stopped. She lay next to him, listening to his breathing and looked at the ceiling. They had been a little drunk but not bad. The sex had been  so unbelievably hot. She didn’t want to move and disturb the memory. Did he really like such big women or was he just being sweet? He always knew how to make her feel safe, loved, and she wanted that again; she wanted him again. She felt herself getting wet remembering last night, then worried tears came.  Rory stirred. He sought her out, eyes still closed,  and used a handful of her belly to pull himself closer.  He began kissing her exposed breast and groping her heavy folds.

“Mmmm …last night.”

She sniffled and the panic faded. She snuggled into his warmth as his fingers worked her flesh. He pressed his hard c–k into her thigh. His eyes were still closed. They kissed  the way people just waking  do. The soft kisses became more passionate. Lina turned more toward Rory and her heavy belly spilled into the space between. Rory moaned and kissed her harder. He pressed his thumb into her deep belly button and knead the huge roll he found there.  Lina’s stomach gurgled.  

Rory laughed and kissed her nose.

“So I guess that naughty little feed you had in the middle of the night didn’t satisfy you.”

Lina blushed a bright red.

“You heard that?”

Rory laughed.

“I think it’s cute.” He smiled, then his face turned serious. “Honestly, I know I said it last night, but I love this.” He gathered more belly fat and tugged gently.

“I wanted you fat when we were dating but you were such a volleyball maniac. I couldn’t get a pound of chub on you.”

Lina couldn’t believe her ears. All she ever wanted was to be a naughty little fatty and have Rory keep her that way. She kissed him, then pushed herself out of bed before they got started again.

“I’ll need a little snack if this morning is going where I think it is.”

Now it was Rory’s turn to blush.

“I hope it lasts for more than just this morning.” His eyes lowered and Lina could tell he still loved her. Her heart felt like it would burst and fill the room. She took a deep breath.

“Ok …candy for Fatty, then morning sex and romance.”

Rory laughed and watched her waddle out the door.

Lina headed straight for the snack cupboard. She was pulling out a huge bag of mini snickers when she heard her sister’s sleepy voice behind her.

“Wow, Lina, your gut is getting huge. That shirt doesn’t cover any of that spare tire.”

Lina blushed. She knew her belly stuck well out in front and wobbled like an overfilled bowl of pudding . Her love handles pressed into thick loaves and rested on her wide, dimpled hips. Her sister stared at her from her place on the couch and eyed the candy bag.

“Jesus … and getting candy? You know if you watched it a little and hit the gym a few times a week, you’d have gone home with Rory, instead of …alone.”

Lina blushed. She remembered panicking as Rory kissed her neck at the bar, how she left ahead of him. That’s why Alexa didn’t know he was there.

“He did come home with me, Lex.”

Alexa’s face turned red. She was sure sister had gone home alone …again. A fate she felt all obese women deserved.  Lina held up her candy bag and laughed.

“Anyway, just getting a snack for round two … or three…or….”

Lina closed the door and Alexa fumed on the couch. She was the one who spent all her time keeping her belly flat and toned, avoiding sweets, starving herself. All Lina did was eat and eat. Moments later she heard moaning and laughing and straining bed springs. 

chapter 3

  Alexa pushed the cart, stopping every few seconds to load in another of her sister’s favorite treats. Her friend Terese walked along beside her.

“Wow, girl, that’s a ton of carbs.”

Alexa raised one eyebrow and looked at her friend.

“Does it look like this stuff is for me?”

“It’s for Lina?”

Alexa smiled.

“I thought you were helping  get her back in shape.”

“I was, but she’s gotten a little cocky since she and Rory are at it again… I GET it,   they have a ‘connection,’ but let’s see how connected they are when she’s 400 lbs.”

“Alexa! You’re terrible.”

“I won’t force her, I’ll just make it available. If she gets  as big as a barn door it’ll be her own fault … But Rory and his little appearance-doesn’t-matter-to-me act have got to go. I know he likes me, I see him look.”

Terese shook her head and laughed at her crazy friend. She had to agree. Lina was too fat to lock up a handsome guy like Rory, even if they had been serious a few years before. The two walked on and loaded the cart until the wheels started to groan under the strain of all the food.

chapter 4

  Almost a year had passed and Lina was huge. Alexa shook her head as her sister waddled from the bedroom to the couch where Rory was resting. Her face had fattened, arms plumped, belly and thighs grown shockingly fat. The change made Lina seem at once cherubic and perfectly gluttonous. Her cotton shorts were stretched tight, seams on the verge of parting. The deep fatty outline of her belly button showed as her heavy gut shifted with each slow step. She jiggled over to Rory and leaned in for a kiss. She grunted as she bent and her huge tummy spilled completely out of her shorts. Instinctively Rory reached up and fondled it. He moaned deep and satisfied as he kissed and squeezed his hugely porked up fatty.

“God, Lina, you’re getting FAT.” Alexa said annoyed at the obvious affection between the two. Lina was easily 400 lbs now and the two seemed more in love than ever. Alexa brooded as her sister and Rory kissed.

“Your sister is right,” Rory said, “you’ve getting a little chubby.” He waggled more fat. “Maybe I should put you on a diet.”

Lina giggled and blushed at her boyfriend’s affectionate teasing.

“I know exactly the kind of diet you’d put me on, bad boy. But honestly, it’s like, not my fault, the two of you feed me like you’re trying to win some sort of contest.”

Alexa acted shocked and stretched her face into a look of innocence.

Lina said, “Don’t even, Lexi. You bring home a pile of goodies every few days and never eat a bite. You know I can’t resist that stuff.”

Alexa threw her head back and laughed, “It’s not my fault that you have no self control, Jelly Belly.”

Rory pulled Lina onto him as she blushed at her sister’s comment. Only her huge ass could be seen above the back of the couch. Alexa cringed at the sounds of  kissing and the sight of Rory’s hand squeezing the bloated buttocks.

“Mmmm, you really are a jelly belly, aren’t you?”

Lina giggled and the kissing grew louder. They retired to the bedroom. Alexa was angry– her plan hadn’t worked. Her sister was massive now and happier than ever. As she sat there fuming and eavesdropping something deep stirred in her.

She crept to the barely-open door and spied on the happy couple. Lina’s shorts were around her ankles and she was bent over the edge of the bed. Her heavy belly sagged to the covers. Rory planted soft kisses on her wide bottom, that backs of her knees and occasionally licked between her fat thighs. Lina gasped. He kneaded the drooping paunch and slapped its flabby bulk.

“Does fatty want it?” Rory said.

She lifted her bloated belly and let it drop.

“God yes, FATTY wants it.”

Her face flushed with excitement. Rory worked, kissing and teasing along the dimpled curves, then nibbled her plump labia. He began to work his neck and mouth deftly and Lina cried out with pleasure. She whimpered and begged for sex. Rory squeezed her. He used her heavy rolls for balance. He stood and helped his massive lover   onto the bed. He spread her huge, spongy buttocks wide. Alexa gasped at Rory’s terribly erect member - he ached for Lina.  Lina dug her hand into a waiting cheesecake and stuffed her mouth as Rory entered her. She growled and packed more in. His strokes picked up speed. He dug his hands into her sides and back fat and tugged himself deeper. She rocked  and bucked and every pound she had gained rollicked and bounced. It was the most erotic thing Alexa had ever seen. Lina stuffed more cheesecake and moaned louder.

“Oh f*ck baby, you’re making me so goddamned fat. Uff. God, oompf, gotta stop…oh god, feeding and f*cking…making me huge, can’t stop eating…”

Lina grunted and growled and wobbled deliciously with every stroke.

Rory pounded faster. Lina’s entire body quaked. Her excess jelly bounced in rhythm with the rising desire. Alexa slid her fingers into her p-ssy  as she watched her titanic sister wobble and feed greedily as Rory’s trim pelvis slapped into its wide soft target.  A few more strokes and Rory hit Lina’s spot and brought the sex to a shuddering, quivering, slowly dissipating halt. Lina was flushed and goggle eyed, the cheesecake next to her was decimated. Alexa sank against the wall as satisfied as the two lovers now settling into bed next to one another for a nap.

Alexa stepped out of her soaked panties and heard  Lina already snoring. She made her way back to the kitchen. She reached into the open box of eclairs and pushed one in her mouth. She touched her swollen clit. She moaned so loud she embarrassed herself. She rubbed her flat belly and imagined what it would be like to be Lina’s size, soft and round, lovingly f-cked and fattened by someone like Rory.  She stuffed more eclair. She rubbed her clit, more desperate now, as she imagined gaining weight - lots of weight. She began to wonder if maybe this was a family trait, something she couldn’t avoid. Her mother was heavy, and now Lina too. She ate and ate,  working her way through the box of eclairs as she played with herself and squeezed orgasm after orgasm from her slender body, certain now she would never be this thin again.        

[starlightfeedings]

The Beach … part one

I arrived at the beach and had no idea that I was going to be in for such a surprise. It was a sunny day and I was excited to catch some rays. I grabbed a book and started to read, when I caught you out of the corner of my eye.

You were so fat and beyond beautiful. You had on a coverup that couldn’t quite conceal the bouncing of your belly with each step you took as you made your way across the sand. You were carrying a fast food bag and a shake in the other hand. Trickles of sweat appeared on your pretty face, and I could tell you were exhausted. I was very impressed!

As luck would have it, you sat down next to a girl right by my towel. She was much thinner and was drinking some water. When you sat down you unpacked your fast food bag and proceeded to eat several burgers, chicken nuggets and fries. I loved your appetite.

After your lunch, you decided to take off your coverup and I was in for a surprise. You were wearing a tankini that was far to small for your plumped out figure. You adjusted the bottom and laughed to your friend saying “I don’t think this minimizer is going to hold my belly, I’m really getting fat”. I almost lost it.

You proceeded to waddle over to the shoreline carrying your shake. You looked adorable and I loved how soft and fat you looked. Besides your belly, you had amazingly thick thighs, large breasts and an apple shaped ass framed by protruding love handles. When you bent down to pick up a shell it was stunning watching your rolls squish and stack.

After a few minutes you walked back to your chair and grabbed some chips. Resting them on your belly you ate one after the other while checking your phone. Something made you chuckle and it was hypnotic how your whole body jiggled.

To be continued

[starlightfeedings]

County Fair Part 1

The day has finally arrived!! We were going to attend the County Fair! You were so excited and couldn’t wait to get dressed after your giant breakfast. You started to get dressed and the first pair of jeans didn’t fit.  The struggle got you winded and for a moment you really panicked because you thought you had gained again.  You then realized that they were the last pair you outgrew  …. Phew!!! You checked again and found a brand new pair of size 32 jeans and a cute white top, and then came in the kitchen to help me pack some food for the trip.  It was going to be a 30 min drive, maybe 45 with traffic.  We packed some muffins, chips and cookies just in case.

We got in the SUV and headed down the road.  I loved watching your belly shake and wobble when we hit bumps and was so glad you had room to sit comfortably.  We sold our previous car about 6 months ago when you no longer fit.  With you at 485 pounds now, this one should work for a while.  About 10 min down the road you reached for the muffins and cookies and finished them all in a hurry.

Arriving at the fair, I dropped you off by the front entrance and then went to park.  A good thing since it took me about 15 min to walk from the truck back to the entrance.  You would need to save your steps as the fair grounds were big and your waddle was not geared for distances (or speed).  You were sitting on a bench when I returned eating some funnel cake with powdered sugar that was sold just outside the gate.  You were smiling, with some sugar around your lips … so cute!

After buying tickets we walked in and started towards the main food area.  I had to walk very slow so that you could keep up.  You were doing pretty well.  After about 2 minutes you asked to stop to look at a map.  You were starting to sweat a little and wanted to catch your breath.  I told you I knew where we were going but you had me double check to make sure we went the shortest route.  After assuring you, we continued.  We stopping again a few minutes later so you could try some bacon dipped in chocolate. So yummy, but a little messy.  We sat down on a bench so you could eat it without it getting all over your white shirt.  You did pretty well, spilling only tiny bit of chocolate by your collar.

We got up again and continued toward the food.  It was so fun seeing all the people, hearing music, sounds from games and the popcorn machines.  There was also an unmistakable  aroma from all the foods, animals, hay and rides.  It was a lot to take in.  At first I really commended your willpower as we made it past the popcorn.  I’m guessing you didn’t see it?

Arriving at the main food pavilion, we got in line for some of the celebrity chef dishes.  The lines were long, so I told you to find a seat and that I’d bring back the food.  “Make sure you get something good” you said as you waddled towards the picnic tables.  I watched you from a far navigating the picnic table and I was amazed how you figured it out.  My guess is that getting out will be a lot harder.

As I waited in line, I couldn’t help but notice how many other fat girls and guys there were.  It seems like a perfect gathering place.  One woman was holding about 4 plates and looked to be about your size.  Another girl was much bigger, at least 550 pounds and was riding a scooter.  Not a bad idea with all the walking needed.  Her belly was pressing into the steering wheel and her hips and side belly far surpassed the width of the scooter.  It was hot!

The first stand I got to had duck bacon wontons. The wontons were stuffed with duck bacon, grilled sweet corn, and cream cheese, and served with a creamy dipping sauce.  I knew you would love it, so I picked up 3 servings.

At the next stand I picked up bacon-wrapped pork belly and mashed potato croquettes served on a skewer, topped with either home-style gravy, Korean bulgogi barbecue sauce, or sweet chili sauce.  I got all 3 sauces in large cups so you could experiment.  I picked up 3 of these also and headed over to you.

You were so excited to try the food!  You were also a little upset I didn’t get dessert.  I mentioned that I thought we could get some later, but seeing how upset you were I headed back and picked up some Bowl o’ Dough. Basically cookie dough in 3 flavors – brownie batter swirl, European cookie butter, lemon ricotta cheesecake with blueberries.  I got 3 of each.

You had already finished the wontons when I got back and were so excited about the cookie dough.  I wasn’t quite hungry yet, but had fun watching you stuff yourself.  The pork belly was finished next and then you dove into the cookie dough.  About 15 minutes later you were done.  “Stuffed?” I asked.  “far from it.” you said  as you tried to heave yourself up from the table.  Uh oh.  You your belly was stuck and wouldn’t let your leg raise up enough to get out.  I had suspected this wouldn’t be easy.  You tried again, leaning to side.  Better, but it was so hard tho raise your leg!  I let you regroup and then helped you by pulling your leg out and to the side.  It worked and you got up sweating and winded.  “Ugh. that was so tight!” you said.  Lets go see the animals

[starlightfeedings]

County Fair Part 2

It was clear that you were  more full than you led onto, as your waddle was much slower and you were breathing heavier.  I hated to see you uncomfortable and suggested we sit for a break.  You happily obliged.  “Wow, it’s really hot here” you said panting.  I agreed, but was  honestly glad I was wearing a long sleeve shirt.   65 degrees is not hot to me.

After you caught your breath, we made our way towards the animals.  On the way, I caught a stand in the distance and knew we had to stop. Fried Butter Balls.  I chuckled.  I had to see you eat those fat bombs.  You couldn’t believe they had them and were so excited to give them a try.  I got you 3 servings and we sat down.  “OMG these are good!!!” you said in between bites.  “Get me more”.  I did, 5 more.  You were eating like the pigs we were about to see.

After eating those you felt full.  Lets just sit hear and listen to the music.  The arena was close by and a band was playing.  I said we could go in, but knowing the size of arena seats, agreed we should just chill and relax.  There were picnic tables closer, but after the earlier fiasco the bench was a much safer bet.  I rubbed your distended belly and we leaned into each other.  So comfy.

About an hour or so later, we passed the heavy machinery section.  You joked about needing the forklift to carry you around. haha.  Getting tired from all the waddling today you were not happy.  You saw another fat girl waddling that looked to be in a similar place.  Who knew that you needed so much athleticism to attend the fair?  We passed a log flume ride, which looked fun, however it would require way too much energy.  It was also unclear if you would fit in the seat?

We arrived at another food court and you declared it time to feed.  You sat down on a bench and I picked up a bunch of treats.  Cheeseburgers with Fried Ice Cream, Deep-Fried Mashed Potatoes on a Stick, Krispy Kreme Hamburgers, Foot-long hot-dogs, Fried Oreos and Fried Twinkies.

You were pleased for sure with my choices and made your way through them without breaking stride.  You especially loved the deep fried potatoes and Krispy Kreme Hamburgers.  I went back and got you 3 more of each.

You were feeling very stuffed now and really just wanted to go home.  I said that we needed to see the animals.  You agreed and began the short slog waddle to the barn area.  I noticed you now had ketchup, mustard and sauce on your shirt now in addition to the earlier spilled chocolate.

We finally got to the animals and grabbed a seat fully winded.  You saw that there was Fried cheesecake and despite being stuffed just had had to try some.  You said to just get one.  I brought it and after the first bite you held up 2 fingers.  “2 more”. wow.  this was sooo good.

I noticed your shirt was a lot tighter.  Your belly was so distended from all the calories during your multiple feedings.  You honestly looked like the pig who won the blue ribbon.  Both of you were super fat and glowing!

After seeing the animals and eating the fried cheesecake, we walked very very slowly over to the gondola. / aerial lift ride that carried fairgoers across the grounds. You were soooo relieved that you wouldn’t have to walk back!!!  I was a little concerned about the weight limit in the car.  Anyway, it dropped us right by the front gate.  We got out, or should I say struggled out as the door was a bit of a squeeze for you.  

I left you at the gate and went to go pick up the truck.  I was hungry and grabbed some peanuts.  When I returned you had a bag.  “What’s in the bag?” I asked.  “Oh, just some food for home” you said.  You had picked up deep-fried avocado, cream puffs, sweet corn ice cream and some Fried macaroni and cheese.  “Awesome” I said, knowing that you would likely polish them off tonight.

“What a fun day” I said.  “Yes, lets come back tomorrow” you replied before falling asleep on the short ride home.

[starlightfeedings]

Such A Good Girl Part 2

I just walked in the door from work and you were sitting there with bags of food and wrappers all over the place. You were wearing your stretch pants below your belly bc it was digging in so much. You had ordered 5 bagels with cream cheese, 5 breakfast burritos with eggs cheese and sausage, 5 egg McMuffins, 5 chocolate croissants, 5 dozen donuts and 5 Cinnabon’s. I was really impressed that you finished it all except for the 5 dozen donuts. You had at least a dozen left and that was going to be cause for punishment. “You know little girl that eating everything is what I expect. If you expect to grow into the fattest little girl you need to trust me.” You nodded and told me that you could finish the donuts now. I said that was admirable but it was too late. I helped you up from your chair and guided you into the funnel room.

I took the rest of the donuts, a gallon of ice cream, a bag of marshmallows, a family size box of graham crackers, a one pound Hershey chocolate bar. Mixed all together with heavy cream and whole milk you were going to be absolutely stuffed. As the restraints were clasped you burped trying to clear your belly for the impending calorie bomb. You had a smile on your face and were so thankful I cared so much about making you fatter. I grabbed the funnel, put it in your mouth and pulled the lever. It started slowly and I left it on that setting for 3 minutes. You sucked it down like a never ending milkshake. It was so thick and creamy and filling you were in heaven. I decided to let you catch your breath for a minute and refilled the feeding bin. This new one held 7 gallons, much more than the one we started with. You were breathing heavy but nodded to me that you were ready. I pulled the lever to speed 2 and your eyes opened wide as the fluid came faster. It was a struggle to keep up, so we went in 30 second bursts. 30 seconds on 10 seconds off. After 10 rounds you looked absolutely huge!!!!

I gave you a 2 min break this time and refilled the bin. Of course the lever would be on high speed this time. You knew what was coming, and had made such progress in the past months accommodating the heavy flow. You were such a good girl and just had to have it. I put the funnel in your mouth, pulled the lever and omg 😲 it was a stream of sweets!!! You started guzzling it and did an amazing job. Of course it was impossible to drink it all and at least a gallon spilled all over you but you got thru this entire batch in 57 seconds … a new record!!!

I was ecstatic and couldn’t believe how much you had just consumed. You closed your eyes and curled up into a blubber infused ball of fat, hugging your huge fat belly and nodding in and out of sleep. I let you nap for a few hours and started cooking. I knew that after you woke up you would really need food!

[epigstolary]

A Normal Life

You weren’t my first piggy. And you certainly won’t be my last. But I do think you’ve been my most interesting so far.

You posted on your profile for years about how you wanted to be bigger, and how much bigger you wanted to be. You made morphs of yourself, showing your body with a monstrously large belly hanging down to your shins, with thighs twice as big around as a healthy waist, with arms bloated with fat to the wrists, and talked about how badly you wanted that to be you someday. You complained about how far you were from anyone else like you, how you were never going to be able to eat yourself as big as you wanted if you didn’t have anyone around to help. And you were right — not a lot of independent half-ton piggies running around out there.

I don’t think you really believed me when I told you I’d take you away and give you the kind of life you said you wanted. I’m sure I wasn’t the first to make that offer; you’d probably heard it from guys before, only to have them disappear once they’d gotten their rocks off. But I like to think you realized it was the real deal when the car showed up for you with a meat lovers’ pizza in the back and a train ticket halfway across the country. No way I’m making even a 300-pound fatty squeeze onto an airplane, or travel on an empty stomach.

You were certainly already fat when you arrived — no question that you were willing and able to pack on some weight. I’m not sure if you chose smaller clothes with the intention of making a striking first impression, or if that’s all you had. But my first sight of you was with your too-small t-shirt riding up a tumescent, wobbling belly; outgrown shorts straining to contain a round and jiggling ass literally spilling over the waistband; and even accessories like a watch or a woven wristband that, pinching a fold into the fat bulging around your wrists, looked like they hadn’t fit comfortably for about fifty pounds. You seemed relieved when I told you we could do without clothes for a while, and gave you an oversized robe to grow into.

I had originally planned to ease you into a gaining lifestyle: shift over the course of a few weeks from regular meals to constant grazing whenever you weren’t full. But you were way ahead of me. You’d already taken up regular snacking in between meals; the limiting factor for you was the effort required to keep the snacks coming. With that barrier removed — the duty taken over by me — it didn’t take long before you were eating plates of food, or bags and boxes of snacks, almost as quickly as I could bring them. Your growing double chins wagged as you gobbled up every mouthful of fattening food, working to constantly keep your belly as close to full as possible.

Taking in that much food that consistently, it wasn’t surprising how quickly your weight began to climb. Within a matter of months, your robe went from oversized to wholly inadequate, your belly and tits spilling out into your lap between the flaps that could no longer reach around your waist. Your legs swelled from thick to bulbous, buried in rolls of fat that wobbled with each step, obscuring your knees and ankles, the weight and the friction of so much blubber holding you back more and slowing your pace with every passing day. Your arms showed the same progress, the lard cascading down from your dimpled, bulging biceps, past your disappearing elbow, down your flabby forearm to a grasping, pudgy hand like an inflated glove, rarely if ever to be seen without something edible in it. I noticed all these changes and more: how your posture shifted as your massive ass swelled and grew beneath you, how your voice changed as your vocal cords were swallowed by new and growing chins, how more and more of your movement became letting the weight and inertia of your fat do the work.

It was breathtaking to see what twenty pounds a month, every month, was doing to your body. And I could tell, at the rate you were going, that it wasn’t going to be long before you were knocking on immobility’s door. After that, it would just be a question of how long you could take the constant tube-feeding and how big you could get while it lasted; my bet was that you’d beat my personal best of 1,487 pounds, probably by at least 100 pounds.

And that’s when you made the request that brought me up all standing: you wanted to go back where you came from. You weren’t pleading to be released; you weren’t regretting ever asking me to be your feeder, or repenting the indulgence that made you as fat as a cow. You weren’t even apprehensive about getting stuffed past immobility. No, you wanted to get dropped back into normal life so you could feel the consequences of your gluttony. You wanted people to stare at the 800-pound hog struggling to waddle to the mailbox and back. You wanted to feel the embarrassment and judgment from breaking a mobility scooter under your obscene girth, and being stranded in the middle of a grocery store with a cart full of junk food. You wanted to haul yourself — a sweating, overheated, wobbling mess — to a doctor’s appointment so she could tell you just how badly you’ve been wrecking your body, and how much danger your obesity is putting you in.

It was more delightfully twisted than anything I could come up with.

And so, I let you go — with conditions. You had to eat all the food I sent you to make sure you kept your weight up; no exceptions. Not that that was ever a problem. You had to set up cameras in your apartment, so I could keep an eye on you and see exactly how my piggy was doing, 24/7. And you had to wear a hidden bodycam, so that I wouldn’t miss a moment of the abuse you’d be getting from the far thinner members of the public you’d be forced to encounter. You were more than happy to show off your life as a hyper-morbidly obese blimp for me.

I’m watching you waddle back from the kitchen now, absolutely winded from the four or five steps to the couch, eating from a tray of snack cookies on the way to help keep your strength up. I just finished rewatching the bodycam video you sent this morning from yesterday’s trip to the bakery outlet, chock full of side-eye and sneers from all the other patrons seeing the pathetic, enormous lardass filling their cart with discount sweets to go home and gorge on. I know someday you’ll get tired of the effort, the constant judgment at having wrecked your body and let your weight quadruple that of a normal person, and come back to me to finish your journey to immobility. But for now, watching you have to struggle with what your gluttony has brought you to, laboring to live a normal life under the weight of the countless calories you’ve crammed down your throat — I can’t think of any way I’d rather tease my fatty with the consequences of what they’ve done to their body than what you’ve chosen for yourself.

Now let’s see what my next piggy can come up with to outdo you…

[thegreedyofficefatty]

This!!!! 🥵🥵 Ugh someone do this to me...

“No, you wanted to get dropped back into normal life so you could feel the consequences of your gluttony. You wanted people to stare at the 800-pound hog struggling to waddle to the mailbox and back. You wanted to feel the embarrassment and judgment from breaking a mobility scooter under your obscene girth, and being stranded in the middle of a grocery store with a cart full of junk food. You wanted to haul yourself — a sweating, overheated, wobbling mess — to a doctor’s appointment so she could tell you just how badly you’ve been wrecking your body, and how much danger your obesity is putting you in.”

[peneloperouge]

I can't move.

I'm stuck now. What you've done to me is unspeakable yet I can't stop. Sucking, moaning, and burping is all I am capable of now. My wildest dreams have come to life except my life is dwindling. I know it is.

My only purpose is to consume. You hold value in me only when I'm fattening up for you. The higher the numbers the more you admire me and I absolutely cannot let those numbers decrease. Stuck in a haze, belly constantly taut, and body practically useless, I am at your mercy.

You roll me over to examine me daily to make sure I am becoming what you want me to be. An extremely overfed blob of a human. My goal is to break records and that's what you intend to do with me. My corpulence fuels your desires. You wobble my rotund gut and play with my thick lard encased thighs, spreading them to find the sweet spot.

Every day is nearly the same now besides how fucking fat I've grown and the meals you force inside of me. Disgustingly greasy slop, carbs, and buckets of melted ice cream all pumped into my overworked stomach. Indigestion is daily and normal now. You just roll my flabby gut around to try and ease the pain and gurgling. I know you get off on my suffering though. As long as I am full, fucked, and admired I will let you do anything to me.

You know exactly how to manipulate me. Whispering into my ear all of the things you're going to put inside of me for the day, every day. Rubbing me when my belly is fit to burst so I can only cum when I am filled. This is how I've gotten so big. So heavy. So addicted.

And this is why

I can't move.

-------------------

Need more? Check out my Patreon. It's only 8$ a month to view all of my work. Active Patrons can also make requests.

Penelope Rouge is creating Erotica and plus size artwork | Patreon

Become a patron of Penelope Rouge today: Get access to exclusive content and experiences on the world’s largest membership platform for arti