#moob goals

[bigfatbob4you]

Getting fat...

I want you to get fat for you. I'm going to cast aside all hesitation about my expanding body and I'm going to leave it in your loving, increasingly tiny hands. I know you think I'm amazing and that you love me more with every pound I gain, so let's do it. Make me fat. While I'm stuffing myself, my only thoughts will be of how fat I am, how fat you want me, and how I'm not even close to your goal. You want my belly to be big and flabby and nearly impossible for you to lift? Well, bring me more food. You want my moobs to be quintuple the size of your breasts, jiggling with every breath I take? Well, bring me more more food. You want my calves, much less my thighs, to rub together? Well, bring me more food. You want to use my ass a table? Yep, you got it, more food. When you're not around, I'll stuff myself with the fattiest, most calorie dense options I can find. I'll get fatter and fatter, even between your epic stuffings of my seemingly bottomless gut. I'm going to outgrow my clothes, and your job will be to get me new ones. You'll buy them with room to grow, of course, but you'll also make sure some of my "old" sizes are in there so that when we go out, you can show off your amazingly fat man as his pants creak at the seams, as his belly peeks out from his shirt, bulging over my waistline, as the buttons and my belt hang on for dear life. My moobs will strain the fabric of my shirt, as people snicker about who needs a bra more, you or me. My arms will be pinched as they've far too fat for my sleeves. I'll be breathless and panting as we walk just a few steps from where we parked to the all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant, with the other patrons aghast at both my size and the volume of food I can put away. You'll beam with pride at my massively blubbery flabby blob of a body, on display for all to see. There'll be no hiding just how obese I am as I squeeze into a booth, flab spilling over the top, then send you to pick up 10, 15, even 20 plates of food as I don't want to tire myself out with unnecessary steps to the food line. I don't care what anyone thinks, only what you think, my love. I want to get bigger, fatter, heavier for you every day. I want to grow past your goals, into the realm of your imagination, fulfilling your every want in an obscenely fat man. Don't you want that too?

For @ffa-muffintop

[bigfatbob4you]

Dream Three Day Weekend

You feed me, stuffing me until I can't move, as I lay, bloated and panting on the couch. Then you rub all over my body -- my flabby moobs, my enormous taut belly, tracing my stretch marks, jiggling my chins and my love handles, making my thighs wobble as you tease me for how grotesquely obese and out of shape I've become... Then I doze off for an hour, and when I wake up, you're there, with a fresh platter of snacks to stuff into me, as we repeat the process over and over.

[fatboysoftie]

Silly stuffing, the chocolate milk made me feel so bloated and heavy, my belly felt so hard😮‍💨

[bigfatbob4you]

Fatten me up, baby...

I want to wake up to the sound of the door opening, hearing you giggle as you walk toward the bed carrying enough breakfast for half a dozen people. You look so cute, and you know I can’t resist you. “Do you expect me to eat all of that?” I ask. You smirk. “Of course, sweetie. You’re still skinny. We need to fix that. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you finish EVERY. LAST. BITE." And good to your word, you do. After a month of our weekend breakfast feasts, I'll step on the scale. "40 POUNDS IN A MONTH?" I'll exclaim. "How did that happen?" I'll ask, as if the answer is not obvious. You come up behind me, struggling to get your arms even halfway around my burgeoning belly, tracing my new stretch marks with your fingers. "Silly boy...did you think that our breakfast feasts wouldn't leave a trace? But don't you worry...this is just the beginning..." Good to your word, I maintained that gain into the next month, then the following month. Weekend breakfast became an all-day affair, the end of the week that we both looked forward to. We'd start on Friday night, then we started taking Friday half days. We moved from solid food to liquid, as you filled up my gut with all manner of delicious faty creations that you whipped up. In no time at all, I'd gone from a chunky 200 pounds to 450 pounds, and a whole new wardrobe. Nothing from my past came even close to fitting, though we'd trying things on now and again just to see how fat I'd gotten. You made sure to buy clothes a couple of sizes up -- "room to grow," you'd say with a sexy little smile. Before long, I'd crested 500 pounds, and we both took off two weeks to celebrate. Little did I know that you took off an extra week, to prepare, and boy did you ever. I'd already turned into an obese flabby glutton who was constantly snacking, but for two weeks, you kept me at the edge of stuffed, constantly topping me off, rubbing my belly, doing whatever you had to do to either make more room or convince me to eat just a bit more.

And I loved it. As much as you loved me fat and loved fattening me, I was equally enraptured. I wanted to get bigger, fatter, to add more blubbery to my belly, to make my moobs five times larger than your boobs, to get my calves, much less my thighs, to touch. I hadn't seen my feet in ages, and I didn't plan to see them every again...

When the week was over, we made a promise -- that every night, after work, I'd eat everything you put out until YOU were full. After a year, well, the results -- the results were incredible. We'd added over FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS of lard to my body. There wasn't a part of me that wasn't soft and covered in flab. To move any part of my body was to set a small earthquake of blubber in motion. As I waddled to the scale to confirm the 700 pounds plus that I now weighed, you stopped me, looking into my eyes, and kissed me, hard and deep. "Beg for more," you whispered. And just like every night, I smiled, and said the three words that are the foundation of our relationship and our love. "Make." "Me." "Fatter."

[bigfatbob4you]

Nothing like a FFA devoted to her craft and her man who’s equally committed.

Can my reward be more food? 🫠

Artist @adiposesaleswoman

[flowers-under-my-bed]

Bae got a new scale, but has been noticeably anxious to open the box. And guys… we think he’s closer to hitting the 500 club than we realized 😳

[bigfatbob4you]

[flowers-under-my-bed]

Any tips for ever-growing moobs y’all? The weight has really been going to his chest lately and it’s making all of his shirts fit poorly, and even worse, the way they’re starting to hang is actually painful for him 😞 Any tips? Shirts? Male bras? Anything that helps with pain and the folds? He’s probably at least 430 now and I just want him to feel good all the time ☺️

[bigfatbob4you]

Dear FFAs:

If you aren’t

1) teasing me about how fat I’ve become — pointing out my wobbly globular gut, noting that my moobs are bigger than your boobs, marveling that my arms are bigger around than your waist;

2) telling me about how much fatter you’re going to make me — going from 450 to 500 to 600 and beyond, dreaming of a triple digit waist measurement for me, or envisioning how my warm soft fat will engulf you if I’m on top of you; or

3) taking me out to dinner at the buffet, filling my plate over and over partially to save me from burning any calories by having to get up myself, partially because you know which foods are the fattiest, and partially because you love picking out everything that I’m going to stuff myself with before you have to help me up and watch me slowly waddle out, a massive of jiggling flab until we get home where you’ll rub my poor distended belly until there’s room for you to funnel me full of WG shake and follow that cycle all weekend…

…why not? Let’s GO!!!! Fill up my mentions and inbox with how you’d fill me up. Maybe you can be the one to live out your fantasy…and mine…

[richiehugs]

Just a countryboy

Richard was an ordinary country boy. The oldest of four siblings, he had learnt early how to take responsibility in his life. He grew tall very fast as a teenager, being the tallest in the family at a height of 6'3" / 190 cm. As a result of his rapid growth in height, he had his abs out, though he was really thin in the arms and legs. He was severely underweight to his height, with about 150 lbs / 68 kg.

As time passed by, he dropped out of high school early, and started to work at a local facility. The job included lifting heavy objects, so he got his appetite worked up as well. With his growing appetite and regular drinking with the colleagues, he gradually started to gain weight, but for a countryboy, he didn't have anyone to judge him.

At some point, he met a beautiful girl at a party, visiting from abroad. They got immediately in love and decided to move in together. Thus their life together began. They were just a young couple, enjoying life. Though Richard started to seem rounding out… a bit more.

It turned out the girl didn't mind her boyfriend not being thin as a stick. As a matter of fact, she was a rather good chef, and got later a job at a local snack bar/restaurant. Richard was in heaven. He had a beautiful, hard-working, great cook at the house. So he decided to takes things to the next level, and got married and started a family.

But Richard was soon to realize that a family comes with greater responsibility. They got really surprised when instead of one kid they got triplets right away. He must work really hard to feed his family and himself, but after all, he got a raise and their family was thriving. And so did he. For with the dad-roll, he got a thick dadbod.

Remember? He was already in a careless-thickening-phase before he became a father, but then his weight really started to pile on. Twenty pounds in a couple of months wasn't a joke. So he met up with an old trainer friend to stop his weight gain - but after a couple of sessions he gave up his goals for summer. He wanted to spend more time with his family, and having to work hard, with triplets at home - there was no time for gym.

So he rather kept eatin' than gymmin'. In the end, he never lost his moobs and gut, ballooning up to be fatter than ever. And considering that his kids are barely three years old - who knows what the next fifteen years will bring?

This is the ten year story of Richard, a young countryboy to a fat dad . You can tell how the different phases of life has affected him: 2013 to 2020 to 2023, 150 lbs to 200 lbs to 240 lbs, single to pre-covid dating to post-covid dadbod, 5% to 15% to 25% bodyfat.

(Disclaimer: the numbers are rough estimates.) Do not reuse any of the pictures.

[bellychaser57]

Gainer boyfriend

By anon

I met him on a dating app. Our first date was at this restaurant known to serve big portions of food. When I arrived at the restaurant he told me he was waiting for me inside. So I came in and saw that a lot of the costumers were bigger people. I also noticed the waitors and waitresses where very handsome and pretty. I mostly notice the big muscular biceps all the waitors seemed to have and their tight pants showing off muscular things and jiggly booty. That's when I saw him, this cute cub seated in a booth. he's belly was gently pressing the table, not enough for the table to be in his gut though. He had perky moobs and big arms. When he saw me, he tried to get out of his booth. He stood up beside me. Slightly taller, he had a wide butt, and thick thighs that looked muscular, but probably weren't. We hugged, I accidentally grabbed his love handles which were nice and soft. We ordered our food, I didn't know what to take so I took a sub, he took 2 chicken pitas. I told him I did appreciate a man with an appetite, and that he looked like having a big one. He was flattered. He told me he was a gainer, and that he didn't really eat as much as he wanted to to gain even more. He wants to become a 400lbs chub. That money is currently an issue for him to achieve his dream goal. I told him I could be interested in helping out as I could. He could move into my apartment, I can already pay rent and my own stuff, he just needed to find a way so that he could bring in some money, all of which would go to him eating if he wanted. He thought it was a good idea but he wanted to wait until he did have a steady income. Months go by, I often offer to pay him all you can eat buffets, but not frequently enough to make a difference on his weight. Every time we went, we always had a great time, talking, eating and catching up with eachother like friends would. On one of these evenings, he announced that he now had a steady income. He did live streams on Twitch of him playing games and eating. He also told me he started an onlyfans and for now, he had enough daily to just eat his profit. I was overjoyed for him!

In the next few weeks, he started moving in, we turned the spare bedroom into his streaming studio and every night, after his streams we would go grocery shopping for his next day binge. In the matter of time, his weight started rising, and rising. His belly got bigger. So did his moobs, arms and already thick thighs. He became softer and softer each week. I started by messing around and trying to lift him at first, always somewhat succeeding, and noticing he was getting heavier each time. I quickly had to stop, my spine was going to break. I would, at least once a day surprise him with a sugary treat when I came back from work. A box or two of donuts, a cake I bought at the grocery store. On weekends I would bake my special cookies. Oats and chocolate chip. Eating two was filling for me, he would eat the 22 others. I would also make extra buttery rice crispy treats, cakes and other desserts. He thought I let him eat the left over icing, little did he know, I whipped up a batch just to see his eyes light up with joy every time. I really liked seeing him happy and eating everything I set in front of him. At supper time, I would cook a meal for a family of 4. Would myself one portion and he would eat the rest. It always impressed me. Eventually, we had to ditch my double bed and go for a king size. He was getting massive and wide. I liked when he squashed me accidentally with his weight. I think at first it was accidental, but by now he's getting a little fun out of watching me be happy. I really like to explore his growing body by pining him to his back and giving him full body massages.

Living with my gainer boyfriend is bliss!

[bigfatbob4you]

Inspiration for the ideal male form

Poor Sebastian. He never stood a chance as my husband.

[mehbles]

The weekend

A gaining story featuring @thiccboigains

The man sat back in his chair, his thick, expansive belly stretching out before him, a symbol of indulgence and satisfaction. His shirt, though sleeveless, clung tightly to his upper chest, unable to contain the fullness of his torso. His belly was truly massive, a soft, rounded mound that spilled forward with a rich, heavy weight. It rested on his lap, pressing outward with a softness that spoke of countless meals enjoyed and the life of pure relaxation he’d chosen.

As he shifted, his belly moved with him, the thick layer of fat rippling and settling, a natural cushion that surrounded him. His skin was marked with faint stretch marks, badges of honor from the growth he’d nurtured over time, and his navel sat deeply nestled in the center, almost hidden by the sheer size of his middle.

Above his belly, his chest mirrored the fullness of his frame, two generous mounds of soft flesh, almost like pillows, rounding out his shape. His chest was broad and full, the weight of his “moobs” pulling slightly downward, resting heavily on his belly when he relaxed. There was a solidity to his arms, too, a thickness from both muscle and fat that completed the picture—a body that had been fed well, taken care of, and encouraged to grow as big as he desired.

He seemed entirely comfortable in his body, each part of him showing the evidence of his journey toward pure mass and size. With each breath, his belly swelled slightly, a steady, powerful presence that filled the space around him.

The weekend began with a single goal in mind: complete, unrestrained indulgence. From the moment he woke up, he knew he wouldn’t be doing much moving. Why bother, when his mission was to stay seated, binge his favorite movies, and turn himself into a living monument to decadence?

The morning started slow, with a stack of syrup-soaked pancakes, a mountain of scrambled eggs, and the first of many gainer shakes, thick and heavy as it slid down his throat. Every mouthful seemed to trigger something inside him, a hunger for more that wouldn’t be sated easily. He let himself sink into the couch, his body settling comfortably, his belly pushing out even further as he slouched, fully embracing the journey he’d set himself on.

As the day went on, he barely moved, only shifting when it was time to bring more food to his already-full belly. Pizza, burgers, and fries came and went, each bite making his stomach swell a bit more, filling him with a pleasant ache. He could feel his belly stretching, the fat beneath his skin slowly firming up as he pushed his body to capacity. By early afternoon, his belly was no longer just a soft, jiggling mound—it felt denser, almost solid, pressing outwards with a satisfying heaviness. The stretch marks across his skin tingled as they strained to keep up with the expanding load, his body becoming a monument to excess.

Each time he stood to waddle over to the fridge, his body responded in kind. His belly swung with each step, a heavy, rhythmic jiggle that only emphasized how much mass he’d packed on. His chest, his “moobs,” followed suit, bouncing slightly with every movement, brushing softly against the upper curve of his belly. The weight of him was a new experience, every part of him pulled down by gravity, making even a short trip across the room feel like an event. By the time he made it back to the couch with his latest plate of snacks, his breathing was deep, labored, and his skin had a sheen of sweat that only made him feel more alive, more in tune with his body’s transformation.

By evening, he could hardly get up at all. He leaned back, almost trapped by the sheer weight of his belly pressing down onto his thighs. The final gainer shake of the night was thick, decadent, practically a meal on its own, but he powered through, feeling his heart beating heavily beneath layers of fat. Every pulse seemed louder, echoing in his ears as he realized just how much he’d grown, how much he’d indulged. His stomach was packed, a solid wall of fullness that left no room for anything else. Each deep breath pushed his belly out further, and he could feel the heaviness settle even more deeply, the fat around his middle feeling denser, solidifying as his body eagerly soaked in every last calorie.

He tried to stand one last time, but the effort was immense. His legs trembled slightly beneath him, his arms bracing himself as he rose, only to be pulled down by the weight of his belly. His heart raced, his chest rising and falling quickly as he caught his breath, feeling the weight of his massive frame bearing down on him. He sank back into the couch, his skin warm and slick with sweat, his entire body humming with the satisfaction of a day spent indulging to the limit. This was only the first day, and already he could feel the changes—the solid mass of his belly, the thicker layers of fat that clung to his frame, and the way each movement now came with a new, heavier rhythm.

The next morning, he awoke with a groan, every inch of his body feeling the effects of his indulgent day before. His belly was stretched, taut yet somehow even softer than before, and his limbs felt heavy, as if every ounce he’d consumed had seeped into his flesh overnight, adding new layers to his growing form. He glanced over at the clothes he’d picked out for the buffet—his biggest shirt and loosest jeans—hoping they’d manage to contain the fullness of his body for what he knew would be another day of indulgence.

As he pulled on his shirt, it was clear that even his largest size wasn’t up to the task. The fabric strained around his chest, hugging his thickened “moobs” and leaving no room to hide the roundness of his belly. The shirt barely covered him, riding up and exposing a soft band of flesh just above his waistband, which itself dug into his waist, cutting into the thick padding around his hips and stomach. Taking a few steps in front of the mirror, he could see the slight sway of his belly with every movement, a visual reminder of the added pounds he’d packed on, a new heft he could feel with each breath.

At the buffet, he was an imposing figure, his round belly leading the way as he filled up plate after plate. He was already full from the day before, but he ignored the protests of his stomach, driven by an insatiable urge to push his limits further. Plate after plate, he let himself indulge, savoring the weight of every bite as he piled on pasta, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and desserts of every kind.

With each trip back to his table, his overloaded belly jiggled and shifted, his exposed skin growing redder from the tightness of his clothes and the heat radiating from his overworked body. He could feel stares as he waddled from the buffet to his seat, his shirt riding up higher, exposing more of his overstuffed belly with every plate he carried. But he was too focused on his goal, too entranced by the sensation of filling himself up, to care.

As he finished his last plate, he felt a deep, almost overwhelming pressure settle in his middle. His belly was packed so tightly that he couldn’t even lean forward to reach his drink without feeling an intense strain across his abdomen. He leaned back, letting his belly swell forward, a massive, rounded weight that now dominated his entire torso. His breathing came in shallow, labored breaths, each one pressing his belly up against the edge of the table.

When it was finally time to leave, he knew standing was going to be a monumental task. Slowly, he pushed himself up, feeling his belly shift with a dense, almost solid weight as it hung heavily over the waistband of his jeans, which now felt like they were cutting into his sides. His legs felt weak, his thighs rubbing together as he stood, the mass of his belly swaying forward and making each step feel like an effort in itself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the load he was carrying.

Walking out of the restaurant was an ordeal. Each step sent a slight jiggle through his flab, his swollen belly pressing down on his legs and swaying from side to side, leaving him breathless and flushed. By the time he reached his car, he was almost gasping, his entire body worn out from the sheer exertion of holding up so much weight. He sank into the driver’s seat, his belly pressing into the steering wheel, trapping him in place. The warmth of his bloated body, the slight pain from the waistband digging in, and the heaviness of his stomach left him utterly exhausted, yet strangely content.

It was a sensation unlike anything he’d felt before—a fullness that left him nearly immobile, a new level of mass that had transformed even simple movements into monumental tasks. And as he sat there, breathing heavily, every inch of him feeling the day’s indulgence, he knew he’d reached a new threshold, one that left him utterly spent, yet hungry for more.

Settling back at home, he knew the buffet was only the beginning of what would be an afternoon of relentless indulgence. His belly was already taut, the skin stretched and tender from the monumental feast, but he wasn’t finished—not by a long shot. He eyed the case of Boost VHC, each bottle packed with calories, each one promising to push him further into the depths of fullness. Next to it, three large pizzas lay waiting, each slice an invitation to push past his limits.

He popped open the first bottle of Boost, the thick, creamy liquid sliding down his throat and landing heavily in his already bloated belly. Despite the fullness that pressed against his skin, there was something exhilarating about pushing himself even further. One bottle after another, he guzzled down the shakes, feeling his belly grow firmer, the fat beneath his skin solidifying as he packed himself tighter and tighter. With each bottle, his breathing grew more labored, each inhale a little shallower, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his belly.

By the time he’d worked his way through half the case, he could barely shift on the couch without feeling the strain in his overstuffed abdomen. His belly felt like a massive, heavy ball, pressing down on his thighs, thick and rounded, with the slightest hint of jiggle beneath its firm surface. His shirt, now completely rolled up to expose his swollen middle, offered no hope of coverage, leaving his belly free to press forward as he reached for the first pizza.

Each slice was a new challenge, each bite forcing him to confront the sheer enormity of what he was doing. He felt his belly stretch, pushing against the limits of what it could hold, his skin pulling tight as his stomach expanded to accommodate every calorie. Despite the intense fullness, he found a rhythm, one slice after another, his hands moving on autopilot as he devoured the entire first pizza. Then he moved on to the second, feeling his belly harden, almost like a drum, solid yet quivering slightly as he shifted, the weight of his consumption settling deep within him.

By the time he reached the third pizza, he was beyond stuffed—his belly was a mountain of fullness, pushing out so far that he could barely see past it. His arms and legs felt heavy, his whole body sluggish from the weight he’d forced upon himself. Each bite of pizza felt like an effort, his jaw working slowly, his body now resistant to any more food. But he pushed through, bite after bite, determined to finish what he’d started.

When the last slice was gone, he leaned back, his head resting against the back of the couch, his entire torso dominated by the sheer mass of his belly. He could feel it throbbing, each beat of his heart echoing within the dense, packed mound of flesh. His breathing was shallow, his chest struggling to rise against the pressure of his swollen stomach. He felt trapped beneath his own weight, barely able to move, every part of him weighed down by the excess he’d consumed.

Standing was out of the question—he could barely even shift his weight without feeling the strain. His belly was so full that it pressed down on his lap, sprawling outward with a firmness that felt almost unbreakable. His whole body was slick with sweat, the exertion of eating and drinking himself into this state leaving him flushed and overheated.

As the afternoon wore on, he remained in place, unable to move, a monument to indulgence and excess. The solid weight of his belly, the dense layers of fat pressing outward, left him in a haze of satisfaction and exhaustion. He was completely, utterly spent, his body filled to its absolute capacity, and all he could do was sit back, feel the heaviness settle, and bask in the blissful agony of reaching his limit.

After the weekend of absolute indulgence, by Monday morning, he’d tipped the scales at a staggering 397 pounds—an incredible 12-pound gain in just over two days. His body had ballooned over the weekend, each meal and gainer shake forcing his frame to adapt and stretch to accommodate the sudden influx of calories. His belly was visibly larger, a dense, round mound that pressed out even further than before, and his clothes felt tighter, clinging to every new inch of him.

But the changes didn’t stop there. His body needed time to fully absorb the surplus of calories he’d packed in, and as the week progressed, the transformation continued. By the following Friday, his weight had surged up again, reaching a solid 403 pounds—a full 18 pounds more than where he’d started just a week earlier.

Each day, he could feel his body adapting to the new weight. His belly grew softer, settling into a heavier, more defined shape, the fat redistributing and solidifying in layers across his midsection, chest, and thighs. His belly jutted forward even when he sat, now a constant, unyielding presence, and his chest felt heavier, his “moobs” hanging lower, with more bounce and heft with every movement. His legs and arms also thickened, his body catching up to the sheer volume he’d forced upon it, each part of him filling out to balance the new weight.

By the end of the week, he’d fully embraced his expanded form, feeling every new pound in the sway of his belly, the heft of his steps, and the comfortable weight that now defined him. His weekend of indulgence had set off a transformation, one that left him visibly larger, heavier, and contentedly settled into his new, plush reality.

Stepping into the gym, he immediately felt the difference. At over 400 pounds, every movement carried a new weight, a heaviness he hadn’t fully anticipated. Just walking from the entrance to the locker room left him slightly breathless, his belly bouncing and swaying with each step, pressing heavily against his shirt, which barely stretched over the roundness of his middle. His thickened thighs rubbed together as he walked, and even before starting, he could feel the warmth building up, a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.

After changing, he made his way to the treadmill for a warm-up. He chose a slower pace than usual, knowing his expanded body wasn’t ready for anything too strenuous. As he stepped onto the belt and began moving, he could feel the weight of his belly pulling him forward slightly with each step, his balance shifting to accommodate the mass pressing out from his core. The jiggling sensation was constant, his belly and chest bouncing gently, a reminder of just how much softer and heavier he’d become. After just a few minutes, he was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, each step a small feat.

Moving on to weights, he selected a bench and sat down, feeling the firmness of his belly pressing into his thighs as he leaned back. With each lift, he could feel the strain, his arms thick with both muscle and fat, each repetition taking more out of him than before. His belly shifted with every movement, a dense, unavoidable presence that made him aware of his size with every lift and breath. The extra fat on his arms and chest made the motions more challenging; even gripping the weights felt different, his hands and wrists thickened with the extra padding he’d gained.

Next, he tried the seated leg press, carefully adjusting himself to fit, his belly pressing against his knees. Each push was an effort, his legs burning with the strain of lifting not only the weights but the additional pounds he now carried. The familiar jiggle of his flab added a new sensation to each rep, his thighs and belly trembling as he worked through each push. He could feel his breath quicken, a slight tremor in his legs as he realized how much harder this routine had become.

Finally, he tried some stretches and basic core exercises, but even leaning forward was a task, his belly pressing into his legs, limiting his range of motion. Sitting up felt like an effort in itself, and each twist or turn made him acutely aware of the mass he’d accumulated. His body felt heavy and sluggish, the layers of fat resisting each stretch, creating a tension that left him flushed and warm, even from minimal exertion.

After an hour, he was completely spent, his shirt damp with sweat, clinging to the new contours of his body. The workout had left him exhausted in a way he hadn’t felt before, his expanded frame requiring twice the effort for every movement. As he walked out of the gym, breathing deeply, feeling the weight of his belly and chest pulling him down with each step, he knew that every workout would be different now, his body transformed by his recent indulgence. But there was a certain pride in it, a sense of satisfaction in every new jiggle, every heavy breath, knowing he was carrying the weight of his journey with him.

[lilfatboy100]

I just want to buy you an oversized, like, 8XL t-shirt with some video game or otherwise nerdy logo on the front. And I want to make you wear it every single day. Oh, sure. It'll get gross. It'll get stained. With the amount of food in forcing into you, some of it is bound to dribble down your chin and soak into the already messy fabric. But I want to watch you outgrow it, too. I want to watch as it gets tighter and tighter over your body, your belly growing out of it. You struggle to pull it down at first, trying to pull it around your growing gut, but your growth outpaces the stretchiness of the shirt. Your growing gut makes the hem move higher and higher on you and your swelling, fattening, sagging moobs turn the formerly oversized shirt into a crop top. You whimper and beg me to take it off of you once it starts getting too tight. You can feel the sleeves pinching the flab on your arms and the collar, stained and sweat-soaked, is rubbing against your double chin. But if you want out of that shirt, then you're going to have to grow out of it, making yourself so fat that it simply can't take the pressure and shreds apart. Don't worry, though. You won't have to do it alone. I'll be more than glad to force as much food as I can down your throat to make that goal a reality.

not my brain shortcircuiting ✨✨

[chubote]

This might be a stupid question, but at what size did you start feeling comfortable being shirtless as a man? I feel like my chest looks similar to yours, but I'm much much muuch smaller lol and I always feel like my chest is too big to pass as male. Weight gain has not been working great for me, but I'm hoping to take the route you did and get fat enough that I don't need too surgery, so I wanted to know at what size it started to feel natural for you

I'll be honest, I still usually bind when I leave the house. I can probably pass without it, but I've been binding full time in public for going on 15 years now so it's a hard habit to break. I've been pushing my boundaries with it more and more though lately, with the goal of giving up binding entirely eventually.

I can't remember the exact weight/size/etc when I started passing more with my chest. I think it's been 50/50 weight gain as well as just gradual fat redistrubution from T. My chest was fairly masculine and 'moob-shaped' to begin with, and it's changed shape a lot from 11+ years of T as well.

As far as being comfortable shirtless in photos/in semi-private settings/etc, I think it's been more of an exposure thing than a weight thing. Sure, I've definitely started looking more proportional as my belly's gotten bigger and that's helped, but I don't think that was the driving force. Honestly, posting my shirtless pics online has massively helped with my confidence over time. Also, weirdly, being friends with other fat men who are very comfortable shirtless has helped as well. (I recently went to a "belly" room party at a con, where it was mostly a number of us fat shirtless guys hanging out and getting belly attention. Man did that destroy any of my lingering discomfort in a lot of ways, haha.)

This goes without being said, but a lot of it's just going to be in how you gain the pounds, not just how many you gain. I've always been somewhat bottom/belly heavy, so my chest hasn't grown *as* much as other aspects of my body and so my weight gain just evened me out. I will caution that it may or may not be the same for you and that gaining isn't always a good alternative to top surgery (but I hope it works out for you!)

Tl;dr: I'm not as comfortable shirtless in public as it may seem, and when it comes to pics/semi-private settings/etc a lot of it's been exposure on top of getting lucky with how my body evened out with weight over the years. YMMV.