#fat transformation

[one2manyfeedee]

I knew I was bigger because my clothes didn’t fit right and I felt a lot more of a jiggle but comparing these ?? Holy shit??

[wannabechubbybboy]

I really got inspired by @bodiebum, I can't believe we man can achieve to look this good and perfect and it is more crazy for me that there's man fighting against their bodies turning into this, You just are so lucky you're body is driving to this this shape, You need the pleasure of eating and your body being bigger overall controls you

I want advice on what to eat to get like this, I'm just 51kg right now, I'm trying to eat more everyday, even if i don't want to, I just ate two meals at breakfast, cereal, a cup of milk and two hot dogs, I really need some encouragement too. I'm trying to drink more milk too, i know it helps

[rip-twinks]

Seven days of Sweet Surrender - A TF Story (part 1)

🍰 Day 1: The Fatal Sweetness

Ethan was a temple of self-discipline. Every morning, before the sun dared to peek over the horizon, he was on his yoga mat, contorting his lithe body into poses that spoke of incredible strength and flexibility. His diet was a meticulously planned symphony of lean proteins, organic vegetables, and ancient grains.

After his hot yoga session, Ethan stopped by a new-age bakery. He ordered his usual, a spinach and spirulina smoothie. While waiting, he spotted a small, pastel pink macaron.

"Just one," he muttered to himself, the tiny crack forming in his fortress of dietary rules. "What harm could one small macaron do?"

He took a bite. The flavor hit him like a warm, sugary wave.

Ethan (Internal): "Oh my god... It's divine. Why have I denied myself this? It's just a little almond cookie."

He quickly bought a box of six. As he left, he ran into his yoga instructor, Anya.

Anya: "Ethan! Your alignment today was flawless. You're a machine! What are you doing with the pink box?"

Ethan (A bit too cheerful): "Oh, uh, just a small treat for a friend. Don't worry, my diet is still locked down!"

Anya: "Good. Keep that focus, you're competing next month! See you at dawn."

Ethan waved her off, feeling a strange, heavy lethargy already settling in, but also a giddy satisfaction.

💤 Day 2: The First Snooze

Ethan's 6:00 AM alarm blared. His hand slapped the snooze button without hesitation.

Ethan (Internal, groggy): "Ugh, my back feels stiff. Maybe I strained it doing that ridiculous scorpion pose yesterday. A day off is medically necessary. It's called 'active recovery,' right?"

He slept until 9:00 AM, feeling oddly relaxed and heavy. He finally hauled himself out of bed and surveyed his kitchen. His organic vegetables and chia seeds seemed unappetizing. He grabbed a second macaron from the box he hid under his protein powder.

He called his yoga studio to cancel his evening class.

Studio Receptionist: "Oh, hi Ethan! Canceling? Are you sure? We have a full house tonight."

Ethan (Lying easily): "Yeah, severe muscle strain. Doctor's orders: couch rest and... uh... complex carbohydrates. See you tomorrow, maybe."

He spent the rest of the day playing video games, a bag of salty pretzels open on his lap. He skipped his planned salad for a microwavable macaroni and cheese dinner. He went to bed feeling sluggish but deeply satisfied. The faint, sweet scent of the macaron lingered in the air.

🍕 Day 3: The Call of the Couch

Ethan skipped his morning yoga on Day 2, claiming a "muscle strain." By Day 3, his alarm blared at 6:00 AM, and he slammed the snooze button with ferocity.

Ethan (Internal, groaning): "Ugh, my legs feel like lead. The mat can wait. That pizza I had last night... man, that was comfort food. Way better than kale."

He finally stumbled out of bed at 10:00 AM. His carefully sculpted abs felt undeniably softer. He reached for his phone and pulled up a food delivery app.

Delivery Person: "That'll be forty-five dollars for the extra-large deep dish and the garlic knots."

Ethan (Through the door, muffled): "Keep the change. Thanks."

He spent the entire afternoon on the couch, watching a documentary about competitive eating. His friend Mark called him.

Mark: "Dude! We on for the 5K training run tonight?"

Ethan (Mouth full of garlic knot): "N-Nah. Can't. Feeling a bit... under the weather. Maybe tomorrow."

Mark: "You? Sick? You haven't been sick since high school! Are you sure you're okay?"

Ethan: "Perfectly fine, Mark. Just need a rest day. Go beat your personal best for me."

Mark (Skeptical): "Alright... but seriously, call me."

Ethan hung up and wiped a slick of cheese grease from his chin with the back of his hand. He noticed a faint, sweet, buttery scent clinging to his shirt. So what? he thought, sinking deeper into the cushions.

🍔 Day 4: The Greasy Slide

Ethan woke up late again, his shirt sticky from where he’d drooled slightly while sleeping. He smelled vaguely of stale cheese and body heat. He walked past the mirror and paused. His cheeks were noticeably fuller, and the lean angles of his shoulders were starting to round out.

Ethan (Internal, shrugging): "Must be water retention. I need to carb-load for energy, maybe. The fat will burn off later... maybe."

He skipped his shower and put on a pair of comfortable, slightly stained sweatpants. His phone buzzed—a reminder for his grocery shopping trip to stock up on organic ingredients. He dismissed it with a flick of his thumb.

He called Mark.

Mark: "Hey! You feeling better? We still running tomorrow?"

Ethan (Burping softly into the phone): "Nah, Mark, I'm fully into the 'rest and repair' phase. Super important for athletes. My body is just telling me I need deep rest... and maybe a burger. Say, do you want to grab lunch? They have a new place with these amazing triple-decker cheeseburgers."

Mark (Hesitantly): "You want me to eat a triple-decker cheeseburger? I thought you only ate raw almonds and sunshine?"

Ethan: "That's the old me, man. The new me is... evolving. Listen, if you're too busy, I'll just order two for myself. Catch you later."

He hung up, feeling a wave of indifference wash over him. He was becoming comfortable with the laziness.

🍟 Day 5: Slippery Slope

By Friday, Ethan's jawline was visibly blurring, and his clothes were starting to feel tight. The apartment smelled distinctly of stale food and unwashed linens. He hadn't showered since Wednesday. He was sitting on the couch, surrounded by wrappers, furiously scrolling through TV channels.

Ethan (Internal): "My stomach is rumbling again. Just had that massive bowl of sugary cereal, but it feels empty. Oh, they're advertising those spicy cheese puffs! I need those."

He managed to shuffle to the kitchen, his pace slow and lumbering. He called his mother, who was used to his strict regimen.

Mom: "Hi, sweetie! Did you remember to take your Vitamin B complex?"

Ethan (Slouching against the counter): "Yeah, Mom, sure. Say, what's for dinner at your place?"

Mom: "Oh, I'm making a lovely grilled salmon and quinoa salad. Healthy and light."

Ethan (Muttering): "Ugh. Sounds like punishment."

Mom: "What was that?"

Ethan: "Nothing! Listen, I gotta go. My... my blender is acting up. Talk to you later."

He hung up, irritated, and decided on three cheeseburgers and a large milkshake instead. As he sat back down, he struggled slightly to button his favorite pair of athletic pants. The fabric stretched tautly over his thickening waist. He didn't mind. In fact, the slight pressure was almost comfortable.

🍩 Day 6: Total Surrender

Ethan didn't wake up until noon. When he finally opened his eyes, he was lying on the couch beneath a pile of blankets, wrappers, and discarded soda bottles. He realized he had slept the whole night right there. The smell in the room was a thick mixture of sweat, sweet processed sugar, and stale air. He felt enormous, and the slight pressure of his expanding belly against his waistband was a new, oddly satisfying sensation.

He attempted to put on a different t-shirt, but his favorite slim-fit tee from his gym days was now impossibly tight across his chest and stomach. He gave up and pulled on an old, oversized promotional shirt.

Ethan (Talking to the TV): "Ugh, look at that guy. He's running. Why is he running? That's stupid."

He messaged Anya, his yoga instructor.

Ethan (Text): "Hey Anya, just a heads-up, won't be in for the rest of the month. Long-term injury. Probably won't be back for a while. Good luck with the competition."

Anya (Reply): "Oh no! What happened? Is it serious? Should I come over?"

Ethan (Text): "Nah, it's fine. Just need to rest and... eat. Don't worry about me. I'm good."

He powered off his phone, silencing any last connection to his former life. He ordered a huge box of donuts and a bucket of fried chicken. He was completely gone, fully immersed in his new, doughy reality.

🍩 Day 7: The Slob's Contentment

On Sunday, Ethan was barely recognizable. His athletic physique was gone, replaced by a soft, round figure. His face was puffy, his hair was a greasy, tangled mess, and he wore the same stain-covered sweatpants he'd been in all weekend. He let out a deep, satisfying belch that smelled faintly of chocolate and fried grease.

His doorbell rang. It was Mark, his friend.

Mark (From outside the door): "Ethan! I haven't heard from you! Are you alive in there? We're going to miss your deadline for the race sign-up!"

Ethan paused, then moved with a surprising lack of urgency toward the peephole. He saw Mark, looking trim and energetic.

Ethan (Whispering to himself): "Race? Why would I do that? That sounds exhausting."

He turned away from the door and lumbered back to the couch, his belly jiggling happily under his stretched t-shirt. He picked up a family-sized box of powdered donuts.

Mark (Banging lightly on the door): "Ethan! Are you home? I can smell something sweet, like burnt sugar and... is that body odor?"

Ethan didn't answer. He ripped the box open, tossed his feet up on the overflowing coffee table, and sighed happily, sinking into the soft cushions. He was unkempt, unhygienic, and utterly and blissfully lazy.

Ethan (Internal, chewing): "This is the life. No schedules, no pain, just comfort. The old me was an idiot. This is so much better."

He didn't need to be a temple. He was a comfortable, cozy ruin, and he wouldn't trade it for all the kale and yoga mats in the world. He reached for a bottle of soda, cracked it open, and settled in for a long afternoon of nothing.

By the end of Sunday—Day 7—Ethan had fully accepted his new reality. He was huge, soft, and radiating a peculiar mixture of grease and sugary bliss. He was sprawled across the entire length of his soiled couch, barely moving except to shovel a handful of powdered donuts into his mouth, his belly a warm, heavy mountain under the stretched cotton of his filthy t-shirt. The yoga mat lay forgotten, a monument to a life of grueling effort he was now glad to be rid of.

He chuckled, a deep, phlegmy sound that shook his broad chest. "Discipline," he mumbled around a mouthful of sweetness, "is a scam."

A sudden, sharp series of knocks rattled his front door.

"Ethan! It's Anya! I'm sorry, but I haven't seen you all week, and you told me you were injured. I brought you some organic bone broth and anti-inflammatory turmeric shots! Open up, I'm worried!"

Ethan froze. Anya. The one person who represented the pure, unforgiving standard of his former life. He heard her fiddling with the handle, testing the lock.

He had two options: He could haul his massive, stinky body off the couch and confront her, or he could simply ignore the world outside his delicious, greasy bubble. He chose the latter, sinking further into the cushions, letting the soft folds of his new flesh envelop him like a comforting blanket.

Anya eventually gave up. "Fine, Ethan! I'm leaving the broth outside. But I'm coming back tomorrow morning, and we are going to talk about this recovery!"

The sound of her retreating footsteps faded. Ethan let out a sigh of immense relief, which quickly turned into a happy burp. He reached for a fresh soda, the fizz tickling the back of his throat. He had defeated the first threat to his new existence without even moving.

He looked around the filth-strewn room, at the piles of wrappers and the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun, then down at his massive, jiggling stomach. He was happier, lazier, and heavier than he had ever thought possible.

But Anya was coming back tomorrow. And the only thing he craved more than another donut was the satisfaction of completely, permanently destroying the last shred of his former, fit self. He knew, with a thrill that went straight to his growing core, that his journey wasn't over. It had only just begun.

[daniexe23]

Male Fat Transformation - Dean Winchester FT

[wannabechubbybboy]

Sometimes I feel like even people without the fetish can be into Gaining, It is kinda natural to want to be bigger and you feel kinda good when you're bigger until someone shame you into not wanting to be big. Don't you notice guys touching other friends'bellies when one of the friend group gained some weight. Some thoughts i have, like sometimes i really think we men are supposed to be fat after twenty like is natural for us to be fat

I don't remember the user from this photos 😭 I'm sorry

[wannabechubbybboy]

I will be glad if you allow me make you the fattest in town with some support and encouragement if only you can consume a lot as well ❤️🍕😊🍔.Dm me

I'll love to eat a lot of food, I'll even show it here. I'm very excited to receive support from anyone to eat more and more food, I'm skinny for now but my appetite is growing. Something weird about me is that If someone starts saying comments about me gaining weight or that I will Gain weight, I get excited and want to eat more and more

[wannabechubbybboy]

How does it feel exactly to gain weight? Do you feel your body touching your clothes? Your belly rubbing your shirt? Do you feel powerful being bigger than the others, do you feel how your desire to eat is bigger and bigger? those are thoughts in my head, could someone explain to me how it feels to be fat? How it feels to be that bigger, that you belly so big that you can hit your friends with it and Push them back

(Cartman fanart just because i need a photo)