After years of effort, cooking, and eating, I finally succeeded in achieving my biggest goal and reaching a weight of 200 kilograms (approximately 440 pounds). My goal had been to reach 200 kg and get a round, protruding belly that hung out in front of me, just like any fat person. I was happy and proud of this size; the weight felt heavy, the feeling of fullness satisfied me completely, and I thought I would stop right there to maintain this achievement. However, my ex-bf had a different opinion, and he began to step in using a clever and enjoyable approach—something I call "gentle power."
The scenario repeated itself between us regularly, with the conversation always starting with compliments and encouragement that spoke directly to my desires as a gainer:
My ex-bf: "You look amazing at 200 kg. The size of your belly and waist has become so impressive... but you know what? I bet your stomach would look even more majestic and complete if you just gained a few extra kilograms. Imagine how massive you would look!"
Me (smiling and hesitating): "Thank you, but I’ve already reached my goal. 200 kg is an excellent weight, and I just want to maintain it now. Moving around is still manageable, and my clothes fit fine."
My ex-bf (using the temptation of cooking and support): "I know, but you are a highly skilled cook and your food is irresistible. It’s a shame to deprive yourself and your stomach of these rich dishes. Five or ten more kilograms won’t hurt; in fact, they will only make you look grander and more handsome! Don't stop eating; I always love watching you chew your food."
It wasn't just talk. My ex-bf translated this "gentle power" into daily actions that made it incredibly easy for me to give in. Whenever he saw me cooking, he would encourage me to add more butter, cheese, and pure animal fat, telling me with a smile, "A rich, heavy dish is the only way that fits your current size."
If I ever hesitated or felt too full and tired to keep going, he would step into his role as a supportive cheerleader. He would praise the growing size of my belly and the outward expansion of my waist, making me feel that every single extra kilogram was a new triumph and a source of greater happiness. Whenever I felt completely full, he would gently massage my stomach. This massage brought me a deep sense of comfort and allowed me to consume even more food; I honestly don't know how it worked, but it always enabled me to keep eating.
In many instances, when I felt too lazy or sluggish to eat more, he would sit right next to me and feed me with his own hands, making sure I finished my entire meal down to the last bite. He would order extra meals for me from the restaurants we loved, placing the food in my mouth while saying, "Eat and don't worry, I am right here with you, supporting you every step of the way."
Faced with this affectionate persistence, continuous support, and compliments that triggered my inner happiness with every gain, my defenses completely dropped. I began telling myself, "It’s okay to gain a little bit more as long as he is here with me, supporting me like this."
And so, under the influence of this gentle and persistent power, I found myself crossing the 200 kg mark effortlessly and without any resistance. However, as my weight continued to climb, the gain became sideways; the shape of my belly started to change, spreading and expanding out horizontally rather than just protruding in front of me. I kept growing and expanding, reaching numbers I had never imagined before—simply because I trusted his encouraging words and surrendered to the pleasure of food and the direct, hands-on support that surrounded me.
After we broke up, I fell into a deep depression, and food became my only comfort. This driving force caused me to keep gaining weight and expanding the width of my belly to levels I could never have imagined, eventually pushing me past 300 kg, even amidst strict medical warnings from my doctor.
annaxmalina
titsay
gummygunk
germansingergirl
