piggyprincesspheobe - Tumblr blog

piggyprincesspheobe · 1 year ago

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a little flashback for you guys.

I'd really let myself go since moving out to live with my girlfriend. I'd been 240 pounds just 4 years ago, I was then around 463lbs although I hadn't weighed myself in months. It was depressing to see the numbers going up and up and just made me want to eat more. My double chin had attracted the concern of my friends and family who were always bugging me to go back to the gym and eat healthily, which ironically only made me stuff my face. I'd changed my whole wardrobe 4 times now, and still had most of my old stuff in the hope that I'd fit into some of it again.

I knew I was getting far too fat but I was in an odd state of mind. I was stressed with work and decided that I was eating what I wanted. However rather than accepting when I was full I was just ordering what I wanted to eat and making myself finish. It seemed like I was having fast food every day and I hadn't cooked anything healthy since I realised it was too late and I was already obese. It was around this time that I also decided not to stop pigging out on junk food.

I was on my lunch break and 2 big mac meals was the first part of my lunch, I had intended to grab myself some chocolate and crisps too but I was pretty bloated and wasn't sure if I'd hold it down.

I looked down at my belly, stretching my shirt accross itself, making the buttons look ready to pop off. I needed a new shirt, I thought to myself. No! Damnit! I need to loose weight! I corrected as I left the cubicle and washed my hands.

I was running late and started to head back to work, when I smelt the wonderful smell of the bakery. I looked longingly in the window. That is, for about a tenth of a second before I headed in there.

'No!' my brain cried 'What are you doing you fat bastard?! You're going on a diet' - 'Stop, seriously, I'm too full' my stomach chimed in. But my mouth was doing the ordering and ordered a danish swirl, a blueberry muffin and a brownie.

I arrived late to start back at work, my stomach now in quite a lot of pain. I sat down at my desk and took a snickers bar from my draw. I was seriously out of control but I didn't care, behaving myself for 5 minutes before I gave up altogether and ate 5 days worth of food in one go seemed pointless.

I decided mid afternoon to join a gym, so phoned up and signed up with my credit card number. I was going in after work for a quick workout, although it'd been 4 years on getting fat since I'd last done any kind of excercise

''If I were you I'd start with something easier,'' said the personal trainer who'd watched me waddle myself close to death on the treadmill, ''like the bike?''

I was panting and sweating and so far I'd run a depressing 150 meters at a pathetic average of 8 miles per hour. My gym clothes, tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt, hugged my new fat like spandex, which only showed even more that I was sweating profusely.

''Thanks, sounds like a plan.'' I took a swig from my water bottle.

He wasn't my personal trainer, I wasn't ready for Ms Karufmann to drive me to the brink of falling apart, but she seemed to have nothing else to do but help me get the bike on an easy setting. She was a nice person but made me feel like I was twice the weight I was. It didn't really help that the size of my waist kept popping open the stud that held the jogging bottoms up.

After almost 30 long hard minutes of sampling everything the gym had to offer and deeming it beyond my capabilities, I headed to the cafeteria for a milkshake.

On my way out there was a scale. I hadn't stood on one in quite a while so headed over to it. Some teenage girls were playing around next to it, when I stood on the panel I heard it creak and they rushed to see the reading.

17 stone 4 pounds. 463lbs?! Ok, I was holding my gym bag and a milkshake but come on!

''Haha! Fat bitch!'' Said one girls

I sighed, couldn't think of anything I could say in return that wouldn't land me on some sort of register, and headed back to my car. On the way home I stopped for a burger king, forgetting my girlfriend had probably cooked something, and wondered whether I even had the willpower to lose weight.

I got home to find my girlfriend had made spaghetti. I sat straight down at the dinner table and ate 3 helpings before I had to give up and undo my belt and trouser button. As my soft round belly spilled into it's new breathing space I put a hand either side and groaned.

''I went to the gym today.''

''Yeah you said. Any good?''

''Umm, nice gym, but I'm kinda out of shape.''

''Aww you're not out of shape,'' She said as she placed a hand on mine, ''round is a shape.'' She laughed.

''Would you say I'm too fat?''

She patted my bulging tummy and gave it a rub. ''You're fine. Anyway finish this up because I shopped today and there's no room in the fridge.''

''I will in a minute.''

I got up and looked in the fridge, junk food wall to wall. I wondered for a moment if perhaps she was the reason I was getting fat. I'd put on over a two hundred pounds now since moving in with her 4 years ago. Then I thought, naah, and took a can of pepsi from the fridge and sat down to finish another couple of helpings of spaghetti.

I was laid on the sofa, she was stuffing endless slices of chocolate cake into my mouth. Every time I felt too full she'd just get some ice cream and make me eat that instead.

It was January 5th, I was supposed to be back at work but my doctor had given me a note to say I was unfit for work, and as I felt lazy and ill I didn't want to argue. My doctor's case was simply that I was suffering from stress related IBS caused by my job. It was really just food related IBS caused by all the food at Christmas. I'd gotten huge anyway, none of my work suits fitted me anymore. All that did fit me was some previously baggy t-shirts and a couple of pairs of underwear (although they weren't very comfortable so I was only wearing a t-shirt, which as you probably can guess was covered in chocolate). I didn't know how big exactly, I'd not weighed myself in 4 months.

As I'd expanded and filled more of the bed, crushed my girlfriend more during sex and generally become lazier and less energetic, I asked her why she continued to feed me so much. After all, at the rate we were going I'd soon be too big for sex altogether. She told me that she loved making me fatter, she loved every pound she added to my growing body, she loved my hanging belly and boobs, she loved my soft ass and thick thighs and she loved to keep my stomach packed full of the nicest things she could give me.

I'd come to eat more and more each day as the weeks and months past and for the past 2 weeks eating had become a non-stop thing throughout most of the day. However I was far too full to keep eating so I asked her to stop feeding me for a few minutes. As I was resting there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it and came back smiling with a package. She ripped off the packaging and I saw from the box that it was a set of scales. She'd ordered it online before Christmas and was a little dissapointed that she wouldn't know how much weight she'd made me gain over the holiday, but was at least pleased that she'd know what she'd put on me for the year coming.

She set them out on the floor and helped me up, my aching, huge, flabby belly, my butter thighs, and my ham arms making it hard for me to stand. "I-I'm going to fall! h-help!" As I got on I realised I couldn't see my feet, let alone the read out.

"36 stone!" She said gleefully and jumped into the air before walking behind my huge ass and smacked it.

"Look what else I ordered." She said as she came back with another package, this time taking it into the kitchen.

She opened it up and it turned out to be weight gain powder.

I had to ask myself as she mixed up a litre of milk with it, whether I liked where this was going. She'd made me massive, litterally massive. I was easily in the top 10% of obese people, my doctor had already had a go at me over my weight and she still wanted me fatter. Sex was becoming more difficult, walking was harder, even driving and I didn't think that was possible! My hand shaking, I took another bite of the muffin. This muffin wasn't the problem; the problem was the 15 muffins I'd already eaten after a day's feeding. I had become dependant on her over the last month or so. We had gotten married back in May while I was still able to walk around easily enough (well, not so easily but you know what I mean), and it was possible to find a tux that fit. I was about 37 stone at the time my family were there, some who hadn't seen me since I was half the size. I saw her side of the family, none of the men were slim, all of them either on their way to or over 30 stone. The women weren't slim either but it seemed to me, given my experience with my wife, that they had some natural urge to feed their loved ones. Even the kids were huge. Anyway, for the honeymoon we had to buy 3 seats, one for her, 2 for me, even though I only got one seat. But to hell with it, her grandmother had given her almost £2,200,000 as a wedding gift, which was set aside for all her grandkids for the day they married. Her great grandfather founded a car factory or something along those lines. The plane landed in California where we got a cruise liner which was going to Hawaii and back over 4 weeks. As soon as we were in our room she excitedly unpacked a heavy duty digital scale, the readout of which handily came attached on a cable just in case you couldn't see over your belly. "Get on!" She demanded, a big smile on her face. I dumped my bag and obliged. "539lbs! Yay!" She jumped for joy. My heart raced as I searched my fold for my phone to use the calculator . . . "38 stone. D-Damn!" "Honey, look . . . I don't want to get any fatter. Aren't I big enough for you now?" She frowned and hugged me, rubbing my fat stomach through my t-shirt. "Aww baby, please, just let me fatten you over this holiday and after that I'll let you eat how you want." I agreed. Though I'd married her for a reason after all, I loved her and it was an amazing time with her even if I had to spend almost all day eating to fulfil her desires. In all our photos my belly hangs low, my fat poking and spilling out of all the clothes I outgrew while we were away. My boobs were so large I contemplated wearing a bra but decided not to as I was hot enough as it was. We arrived back home after hours and hours of travelling in which I was made to eat countless bags of sweets and, just as excitedly as before she unpacked the scale. I wasn't too worried, this was it, I could stop gaining weight now, and how much could I possibly gain in 48 days? "Oh my god!" She shouted with glee. She jumped on the bed and began stripping. I bent down to pick up the readout which she'd dropped, and felt my jeans tear at the side. I straightened up and held still as the numbers settled. 580lbs. A 41 pound gain, over a pound a day, putting me at over 41 stone.

My 3 chins wobbled as I gasped. "Come here now!" She ordered and I got onto the bed, making it creak and groan. I broke the bed that night, so she got a steel one. That's what I'm laid on 4 months later in September. I'd stopped working long before our wedding and we were living on her fortune. I gave up arguing with her for 4 main reasons. 1, I was already hugely obese and would never be thin again. 2, my stomach was huge and I needed a lot of food to stay full. 3, the sex was fantastic and 4, it made her truly, truly happy. She had kept a diary of my measurements and weight since just before Christmas and it was a hell of a read. She also noted what she liked best about seeing my body swell. I was in a daze, I lived to eat. I watched TV and played videogames, sometimes surfed the net on our laptop. Whenever I needed to use my hands she would hand feed me. If I was too full she would massage my stomach for a while then give me plenty to drink (often weight gain shakes though that didn't help the bloated feeling), usually coke or something sugary. The game we were playing at the moment was her favorite. I was too full and fat to masturbate and she'd given me Viagra to keep me horny. When she was finally satisfied that I could get no more in I'd get my reward, but I certainly wouldn't get it if I didn't finish the batch of 16 muffins she'd made especially for me. It was very hard work, my stomach was in severe pain but even after the last muffin she brought a fudge cake and told me I had to eat it. It was huge . . . but I was so horny . . . My shaking hand spooned the last mouthful into my mouth and I swallowed. She held the plate to my face and made me lick it clean, then she gave me the best blowjob of my life. The next morning I was on the toilet for so long that she brought my breakfast in to me and gave me a milkshake to enjoy while I showered. When I was done she made me step on the scales. I got another big hug and she jotted into her diary. 614 pounds. 43 stone. It was too much weight on my bones. I could barely walk and breathe but I was beyond caring. I didn't leave the house, she just continued to shop and cook and clean and feed. I had nothing to worry about, I didn't even miss the outside world. She would occasionally take photos of me for a website which she frequented, where women like her (and a few men but I'm not homophobic) would say "wow he's so sexy" and "you've done such a good job of feeding him". I looked her up and down, she'd definitely gained a few pounds herself, which I enjoyed for some reason. I sat on the couch and awaited my second breakfast.

Later that day I was sat on the couch eating my 2nd 15 inch pizza. My wife was out shopping. We usually got food delivered but today she'd taken the car to get fast food and cakes, pastries, stuff like that. Last time she'd spent over £100 and made me eat the whole lot. It had been a struggle but she'd loved every minute of it and she ***ed my brains out that night.

I got a bit bored and, despite my orders, left half the pizza on the sofa, and hauled myself up and waddled to the pc. The chair was now very small for me and I was worried I'd break it so I tried to ease myself onto it. A large box of assorted donuts was on the desk next to the screen, she'd told me that if I wanted to use the computer I'd have to eat them, and since she'd know I'd been on it I decided to start eating them. I looked around her sites. One photo she'd uploaded was a comparison shot of me at 10 stone and again at 36 stone, it was very popular. There were other shots of me eating and I even found a video of her fingering my belly after I'd passed out from a huge force feeding.

I went into the forums and looked at things she'd posted on. I saw lots of stuff that I didn't understand, but plenty more that caught my attention. In one post she was telling how much I'd gained but that I still had a 'long way to go'. It had only been posted 3 days before so I delved deeper. I found a blog she'd been writing and this was the last entry.

"Oh my god, she's a dream come true. I never expected him to come around so easily to this but he's almost unable to walk and still agrees to eat and even lets me force feed him! Every day she gets closer to my goal. As soon as I make her immobile, which can only be a matter of weeks away, 3 or 4 months at worst, she'll be put onto the second phase of the regime. The part only my aunt and my friends, futon114 and casey5jane have managed to get their girlfriends to. I get so turned on watching her eat, and even more so (strangely) to shop for him, knowing that whatever I buy she will diligently and obediently consume. I love to see her stretch mark covered belly swelling and expanding, her four chins wobbling, her back fat jiggling, her nech being invisible, her meaty legs and arms expanding with my love and my home cooking which she loves more than anything. I love to see him get out of breath as she tries to walk, then give up and eat whatever I give to him.

It went on but I searched on the previous site for the names she had mentioned. They'd both uploaded photos of women twice my size, unable to get off the bed they were confined to. They had tubes leading into and out of orifices to help them breathe and defecate and a tired expression on their faces and piles of food around them. My heart raced. I needed to get out of there.

I looked in the wardrobe but no clothes fit, absolutely nothing would go over my fat belly. I got a white dressing gown on and headed for the car, but remembered she'd taken it out to shop. I couldn't call the police, what would they say?! At best I could hope to be a laughing stock. I wanted to go to a friend's place and hide out for a while, but there would be no time to get her to pick me up, so I sat back down and panted exhaustedly trying to get my breath back as I ate more pizza.

When she arrived home she brought in 4 bags, then made 2 more trips back to the car to get 9 more bags. What worried me was that it was all for today. I might be immobile by the end of the day. By midnight I'd been made to eat a family sized kfc bucket, 4 whoppers with fries, 2 weight gain milkshakes, 3 of the most fattening 800g cheesecakes you've ever seen, probably about 40-50 pastries and cream cakes of various kinds, fudgecakes and donuts and chocolate and pepsi and even more that I couldn't remember.

I laid on the bed unable to move a muscle as she ran her hand delicately over my swollen stomach, which was starting to spill over the side of the bed. I groaned, then asked her what my goal was.

"Your goal?" She asked, unaware that I'd been on her website.

"What is my goal? Why are you feeding me like this?"

"Well, if you want to know, you're going to weigh over 2000 pounds, which is about 140 stone." My heart raced and she soothed me, running her hand over mine. "Really I want to make you 2150 pounds because then I'll have added 2000 pounds to you all by myself."

"I don't want to be that big! I love going out places."

"When did we last go out?" She asked.

I thought hard, but couldn't think of anything since our honeymoon so remained silent.

"I won't do it. I won't let you keep feeding me if all you want is for me to be a fat blob on this bed."

"For starters, I wasn't expecting you to stay on this bed. I've set up a room especially for you in our new house. You have glass walls so you can see outside, a comfy bed, a crane to lift you out of it, I'll be there to wash and feed you, and I'll find a way to keep your winky entertained." She said, grabbing it under my folds of flesh. Her tone changed and she looked me in my panic stricken eyes. "And you will eat, and you will get fatter. There's something I never told you before we got married, I couldn't because I'd have scared you out of marrying me."

She got up, slapped my belly and pulled a pair of handcuffs from under the bed, attaching my ankle to the bedpost with them. "Myself and my 4 sisters were brought up and taught how to cook, feed and look after a huge man. Our 3 brothers were force fed daily, the reason they weren't at the wedding was that they are now simply too fat to walk. The reason for this is my mother; she tried to fatten her husband to over 2000 pounds because my whole family fortune goes to the first woman in our family to fatten up her husband to such a weight. My father died when I was young, of a heart attack at about 1400 pounds. She taught all of us to feed so that we'd be prepared for our partners. It has to be the first partner though, and I have a lot of competition from my cousins, but my sisters are behind me and I'm behind them, we have a pact to share the fortune. The fortune itself was left to our great grandmother because she fattened her husband to death, she was a feeder as well as a homicidal bitch. In her will she stipulated the rules and I want the money. But don't take this the wrong way, I love you and I love your body." She paused. "Come on, you've got to drink your weight gain shake before sleeping."

#fat belly #fat piggy #fatty piggy #gaining fat #immobile

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