#straight gainer

[biglabeouf]

Taper is absolutely gone lol

[supersizepete]

Horny & Hungry

Got turned on for some reason and decided to take some pics,

any online feeders out there?

Working on getting my Patreon going rn, any feeders or generous people wanna see more?

patreon.com/SuperSizePete

[fatfables]

Too Fat to Fuck

A new short, punk rock, fat fable.

“Went to a party. I gorged all night. I ate 16 slices and looked a sight. But now I’m stuffed. You’re out of luck. I’m stuck on the sofa, too fat to fuck.”

These were the first lyrics that I ever wrote. I was fifteen and thought that I was gonna be a rockstar. It was 1982 and my band was called “The Fat Bellamys.” We thought it was the coolest name ever because Bellamy kind of sounds like bellies. Fat rockstars and fat punkers were unheard of back then. We all pretended to be brothers when really we were just best friends. I was the lead singer and took the name, Jelly Bellamy. Malcolm was not a good name for a frontman. Jelly suited me well. In my skin-tight ripped jeans and stained wife-beater vest, ass and belly a-bulging, I thought I was the dog’s proverbials, wobbling around on stage like a rolly-polly lunatic. I would spit half-chewed pizza crusts at the disgusted audience as I screamed out my shitty lyrics, diaphragm visibly vibrating. I was determined to be the most popular fat kid in the valley.

The rest of the band consisted of Kevin (Tubby Bellamy) on guitar, Jay (Chubby Bellamy) on bass, and Killian (Kill the Bellamy) on drums. Killian was the fattest of us by far and the best looking. I was always secretly jealous of him. The drummer is always the fattest guy in the band. He also got to sit down all the time which I thought was hella unfair.

We practised in the store room out the back of my Dad’s pizza restaurant. It was also the only place that we ever performed. The restaurant was called “Do Littles” a pun on our surname, Dolittle, as in the doctor who could talk to the animals. Not that anyone in my family ever tried to talk to animals, we were too busy eating them and living up to our moniker by being as lazy and idle as possible. Dad was not a hard worker and neither was I. 

The restaurant was located on a side street off the south end of Ventura and was famous for its large greasy pies, large greasy owners, and large greasy customers. We played there every Saturday night for three years in return for free pizzas and sodas. Who needs paying when you’ve already got all the free food that you need right? I must’ve gained a hundred pounds or more in the few years that I was playing at the restaurant, as did the rest of the band.

We used to pull in a sizeable regular crowd of chubby punk kids, geeks, gluttons, and other assorted fat losers. Our fans were all the kids that would rather fill their faces than get high on crack and PCP with the “cool” kids at the Whiskey. We all thought that it was way cooler to die of diabetes than an overdose. We were the Chris Farley to their River Phoenix. We were ahead of our time.

Every weekend we would stuff ourselves stupid for hours on slippery slices of deep pan pepperoni, melted gooey four cheeses with stuffed crusts, and massive 20” meat feasts. We’d slurp down bucket loads of free refillable sodas and slushies until we were fit to burst. Then we would go on stage for twenty minutes. Huff and puff as we attempted to thrash out a handful of two minute songs, betweens our burps, before exhaustedly stumbling off stage and back to our booth to refill once more.

I wrote a few other songs during that period that we added to our weekend menu. “Eat the Poor,” was interpreted by some as being a satirical take-down of the Reagan administration's economic policies, but really it was just my personal desire to eat, digest, and excrete poor people. “California Uber Bellies,” was our theme song, and just generally spoke to how we saw ourselves. “Give Me Convenience Foods of Give Me Death,” speaks for itself, as did “Ice Cream Truck.” But it was with, “Too Fat to Fuck,” that we finished every performance. That was our masterpiece. That was the cherry on the cream, on the cake, that sat on top of the sundae, that was our set.

I wrote it when I was fifteen so had never had sex for that reason. I didn’t know that I was writing my own prophecy. Anyway, girls were kind of hard to come by in the fat geek punk scene. Or at least they were until Melissa showed up.

She was beautiful with curves as wide as the horizon. Her dumper truck ass and thighs looked so succulent trapped in her multi-coloured leggings. She was as wide as the door with the silverest cellulite and fattest cankles that I had ever seen. Her belly hung soft and low and appeared to wave, with every step and breath, as if it were made of melted chocolate. It hung limp like a bumpy deflated tire, in comparison to mine, which was round and smooth, and ballooned out like an over inflated beach ball, due to the years of excessive intake of carbs and sugar, with which I’d joyously glutted it on a daily basis. I was in love. And that was before she even ordered.

I saw her looking back at me and she smiled as she told the waiter, Merrill, that she wanted three twenty inch Seafood pizzas with extra cheese. I waved Merrill over and loudly copied her order to insure that she would notice me. She did and it worked. We matched each other for hours, meat feast after meat feast. I’d never seen a woman devour so many recently living creatures, of land and sea, flattened out on thick greasy, cheesy dough before. Eventually it was time to play and I shook my giant hips and ass at her. She lapped it up and when I took off my 4XL t-shirt in order to show her my sweaty glistening love handles I swore I could see that she was getting wet.

After the show I got up the guts to go and talk to her and we sat for hours talking about our favourite foods and restaurants while we continued to fill our bellies. By the time we snuck off to the store room we must have been drunk on at least ten pizzas a piece.

This is where it went wrong. As hard as I tried I couldn’t get it in her. Our bellies were just too large and incompatible. With my 48” pants around my ankles and my massively bloated beach ball belly bouncing around, my dick just didn’t reach far enough. My boulder smashed into her soft wobbly beachfront but we couldn’t make the all important connection. We tried it standing, we tried it sitting, we tried it every which way but loose, but it wouldn’t work. I had just turned eighteen years old and was already too fat to fuck.

After about fifteen minutes of immense sweating and effort she noticed that I was starting to lose my boner and became upset. This agitation turned into real anger and she eventually stormed off, leaving me alone in the store room with my sad semi and over 200 lbs of pizza dough. As she left she swore that she would get me back for the humiliation. She slammed the door shut and I was left to satisfy myself with the dough.

The next weekend I was shocked when she turned up with her “cousin” Enrico. He was huge and muscular, over 6 ft tall, and 300 lbs. I nervously ate my own weight in pizza wondering what was going to happen. He raped me in the store room after the show. Apparently, you can be too fat to fuck, but not too fat to be gay.

I went off punk music soon after that. It’s funny how the most aggressive sexual violence possible can affect you. Also, a copycat band had just come out. They called themselves the “Anarchy Burgers (Hold the Salad)” and were based at a burger and hot dog joint in Pasadena. They totally ripped off our idea. The final nail in the coffin was when I got a ‘cease and desist’ order from some company called ‘Alternative Tentacles,’ which I thought was strange. I always believed that was an entirely different kink.

Read more fatfables at www.fatfables.com

[ex-jock-enthusiast]

Hot off the presses - Jibraan Mustafa (@jbbrsh) appearing in Jubilee's 'Natty or Not' vid, plumping up fast on a protracted bulk. Natty? Perhaps. Fatty? Fingers crossed ;)

[almostchieftrashgay]

[davenporttf]

Bear Trap

Jake was a total dick and he was fine admitting it. He had the body to compensate for his short temper and overall unlikeable personality. He liked to think of himself as a real tradie through and through. He didn't care what the other guys thought of him because he knew he could do the job of three men by himself. When it came to the ladies, he was fine cutting things off after they started getting feelings. "Who hurt you?" the last one said when he broke it off. He smiled and replied "That'd be you for having to listen to you."

The crew had been working on a new apartment complex for a few weeks. The days were long and the middle of summer brought some very hot afternoons. Jake was working on installing a new water pipeline to the complex and removing the debris from all the jackhammering. They had been going at it since 7am and with the sun now beaming over him, he was feeling dehydrated. He forgot to bring his own water and was starting to regret it. He signaled over to the other guys that he was going to take a quick 15, and started walking towards the next door apartments.

Typically the neighbors next to their projects hated seeing them because of all the noise. He would see the dirty looks from the balconies but he would just wave at them to piss them off. Today he was going to play nice though, and beg for some water with a smile and an arm flex.

He went up to the first door and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, a loveable bear named Greg answered the door. He filled the door with his sturdy frame, and smiled at Jake. "Can I help you?"

"Hey man, sorry to bother you but I forgot my water today. Could I trouble you for some?" Jake said with the most charming smile he could manage.

"Yeah, of course! Why don't you come in and cool off and I'll grab you some water. I have the AC on." Greg offered kindly.

Jake was not about to pass up some free AC despite his reservations. "Yeah sure. Thanks, man." He entered the studio apartment looking around at Greg's very tidy apartment. "Have a seat on the couch, I'll grab you something to drink" Greg said as he walked to his kitchen.

Jake continued to look around and noticed some of the pride flags posted around the living room. "Awe fuck, a fag. Just great." he thought to himself as he took a seat on the sofa. He didn't like how all the gay guys looked him up and down. He worked hard to look good for the ladies, and felt uncomfortable when men shot glances his way. He had the urge to leave but the AC was feeling great against his skin, so he shoved his disdain to the side.

Greg could sense the hatred from Jake, and his overall douchebag demeanor. He had seen him for a few days now arguing with his coworkers and catcalling the women walking by. He didn't like the ripped guys, and tended to go for bears like himself. He had been living alone for a few years and with the rent about to go up due to the complex being built nextdoor, he was struggling. He didn't have an extra room to split with a roommate, and he wasn't having much luck in the boyfriend department. In the kitchen, Greg came up with an idea to fix his problem. He pulled out a bottle of water from the back of the fridge that he bought from a specialty store he frequented.

Greg walked back into the room and handed Jake the bottle of water. "Here ya go! Feel free to enjoy the air for a bit. You guys really seem to be working hard out there." Jake didn't waste a moment, and started chugging the water. The water tickled going down his throat and the water tasted so refreshing. He continued to chug the water as a bubbly feeling developed in his abdomen. Gurgles began to become audible as his stomach started to expand outward. Jake could feel his waistline pushing out against his jeans becoming more uncomfortable by the second. The water was too refreshing to stop so with his other hand he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to make room. Jake's pecs softened and inflated, losing definition. His arms became heavier with his biceps growing more doughy. His face rounded and lost it's definition with his chinstrap widening to a full beard.

With one hand on his belly rubbing it for comfort, Jake finished the bottle and looked around at his new form. He wanted to be disgusted with himself but his grip on his prior life was slipping away. He was liking the way he felt more powerful by his size and ran his hands all over. He looked around at the apartment feeling more at home.

"You look good handsome." Greg complimented as Jake looked up at him. Jake could feel himself growing attracted to Greg, especially his handsome features. Memories of them meeting out by the construction yard surfaced. He was always on the heavier side and the crew loved how strong he was moving around the debris. Greg had walked by one day and he couldn't help but catcall him. Luckily, Greg was flattered and found Jake extremely attractive sweating in the hot sun. Moving in together was the greatest thing to happen to him, and it helped that they could split the rent.

Jake started to paw at the bulge in his briefs, thinking of how sexy his boyfriend was. "What's say we cool off more in the shower?" Jake said devilishly. He got up and walked over to Greg adjusting to his newfound size. He took Greg by the hand and lead him into the bathroom for some much needed fun.

[stuffmetothemax]

Im getting so greedy🐷

[bigboydav]

I just can’t stop eating and lifting 😮‍💨 muscle chub status coming soon:)

[biglabeouf]

Focused hard on the gym this week, lots of eating at the new job. Excited to really hit the weights and food hard and blow up these next few weeks. Want the belly huge

[filled-with-fat]

How to have a RAPID💨 weight gain

You’ve always dreamed of getting fat, you’re obsessed with the idea of being overweight. But no matter how much you eat, the pounds never seem to stick. You’ve become trapped in this ‘skinny fat’ body — too fat to be considered a twink, but too skinny to actually be considered fat. So here’s what you’re gonna do:

1. Start eating earlier. When you’re trying to become obese, you need to change your eating habits to those of an obese dude. Fat guys don’t stick to the normal 3-meal-a-day routine, they’re constantly snacking and eating food. They’ve stretched their stomachs far beyond a healthy size for a human, which allows them to eat an excessive amount without feeling full. And you need to do the same. So, each morning set your alarm to 5am. You probably won’t have much of an appetite this early, regardless, it’s time to start eating. Make sure to chug at least 2 gainer shakes, before moving onto a palatable breakfast, perhaps with a large stack of pancakes topped with whipped cream? Good job, now you’ve had over 1,000 calories before the day has even begun.

2. At 9am, after you’ve slept on those calories, it’s time to fit in another breakfast. It’s important to cram as much in during this sitting! Maybe try another gainer shake, with a different flavour to *shake* things up (no pun intended). Then, move onto a full English, with extra helpings of bacon and eggs, alongside waffles topped with cream cheese and chocolate. Good boy, now it’s time to go and rest again. Remember to limit your movements so that you can maximise the calories you’ve just eaten.

3. Time for a mid-morning snack? You’re probably not even hungry yet considering you’ve already consumed over 3,000 calories in the past couple of hours, but to really start feeling those gains, it’s time to order a McDonalds straight to your door. Grab a BigMac, and a large side of fries, as well as two large cokes and a McFlurry for dessert. Your mid-morning snack should be larger than most people’s lunch. And when it comes, time how long it takes for you to get through it all. Remember, as you eat faster, you’re belly stretches, and eventually it will start getting easier and easier to fit a fuck ton of food inside of you.

4. Then you’re ready for lunch (hopefully you haven’t passed out yet). Invite a (fat) friend over, and order several large pizzas. Given how much you’ve already eaten, you’re probably going to struggle to eat a whole pizza, but with your fat friend by your side, who will doubtless be chomping up his slices, hopefully this should encourage you to do the same. Say goodbye to your friend, then head back to the couch. At this point in the day, you’re probably feeling so full that you never want to eat again, and you’re belly doubtless looks so bloated 🫃 it could pop at any moment. Take the afternoon to rest on the couch. And as soon as you start to feel a little lighter, reach for that chocolate bar you left on the coffee table.

5. Dinner time. It’s date night! Let your boyfriend take you to an all-you-can-eat Buffett, and don’t go shy! Make sure to wear a short sleeve tshirt, so that you can use the full length of your arms, to take as many plates of greasy food at a time. And when you start to feel bloated again, take a gut gummy to relieve your symptoms before piling into another stack of donuts 🍩 😋���

Repeat this routine daily, and hopefully you should start to feel a little heavier!

[feedistvin]

From another straight gainer, whys it so hard to meet girls in to this

I told them not to talk to you

[overstuffd]

Live on air

(For @feedinboi, who requested a manipulative feeder secretly broadcasting you. Ingredients: weight gain, secret feeder, manipulation, being made into chubby public property)

I wonder when you realised you'd become so many people's personal porn?

It certainly wasn't the day I posted the first picture. Just a quick snap on my phone of you standing in front of the open fridge. Sent to one special group chat, with a promise of what I was going to do to you.

One picture a day, for a little while. Capturing you chugging the soda I poured into the diet bottle, adding extra sugar to the already calorie laden mix.

Replacing your meal prepped protein shakes with thick cream and mass gainer concotions, you never questioning why they tasted so much better than before.

Just one picture a day - to start.

But my little switches start having an effect so quickly. It seems a shame not to document more of your changes.

You don't notice when I start posting multiple pictures a day.

I'm still being careful, but the opportunities to show your growing spread are too tempting to pass up. You, reaching for something off a top shelf, the curve of your belly opeeking out from under your shirt. You, struggling to pick up an m and m that fell to the floor as you ravenously poured a whole bag into your mouth - I guess those appretite stimulants I added to your 'protein shakes' are working.

The aphrodisiacs are working too, at least juding by the photos of your rounded ass I snap as you sheepishly slip into your room, one hand already on your bulge.

I thought you might notice when I installed the kitchen cam. Still, I put it in the fruit bowl - somewhere you never checked these days. Then it was a simple matter to set up the live stream for all your fans to enjoy.

You, devouring four huge meals at the kitchen table. You, dazed from the joint I rolled you chugging chocolate milk straight from the carton. You on a midnight fridge-raid you thought noone would see.

Even if you haven't noticed the cameras, there's no way you haven't noticed the effect I'm having on your body. I have a perfect document of those pyjama pants stretching out, of the day you tore a hole in the ass bending to grab icecream from the freezer. Now you usually wear your overstretched boxers around the house.

I noticed a few half hearted attempts to diet. The lean chicken I marinated in cream. The broccoli I fried for you in butter. Your heart was never in them though. You didn't know it yet, but you were already addicted to being full.

You certainly notice the cameras the day you realise how are addicted you are. The day you wake up to find the fridge empty, the cupboards bare. The day you waddle to me, rubbing your hungry belly, desperate for something to fill the emptiness. The day I promise to order you a feast, on one condition.

That's when I set up the camera on a tripod in front of the couch. You, confused but so desperate to be fed you agree to anything I say, lying back on the couch pinned under your huge but empty belly.

Me, placing a delivery order from three different restaurants and pulling out the icecream I hid from you, now melted into thick, sweet cream.

Starting the livestream for your - appropriately enough - ballooning fanbase by jiggling your huge soft belly while you moan and beg to be filled. Holding the carton to your lips and puring it down your throat, massaging your doming gut as you gulp.

By the time you finish the carton you're gasping for breath, but you're nowhere newar full yet. Good thing too - the first of the breakfasts your fans have funded is arriving, and you're going to eat every bite.

Smile for the camera, gorgeous.

[almostchieftrashgay]

Gay alone with sexy cock

[just-a-forest-nymph]

✨Welcome to the Forest of my Unsavory Dreams✨

First things first…

MINORS BE GONE FROM THIS FOREST OF DEBAUCHERY!! 🧙‍♀️

(Seriously… go away. The contents of this blog is not for you) This is a 18+ blog. If minors interact they will be blocked. Same goes for blogs that have no age in bio or pinned.

🍂—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—🍂

You guys can call me Lulu or Nymph!🧚🏻‍♀️

A Little Bit About Me:

I am a 24y straight female (bday: Nov. 10)✨

I am a plus size girl, so if that’s your thing, welcome! If not, that’s okay.. bye.

I’m an artist, so I miiight post some art stuff too. I love to create things! I am also a big reader (smut and normal people books) I am slightly introverted and shy if I don’t know you, so I 95% won’t message you first. I enjoy Greek Mythology and Folklore of all kinds! I also LOVE & have tattoos. One of my biggest goals in life is to become a tattoo artist.

All of my own art is tagged with #lulus art

All lewds of myself are tagged with #nymph pics

All my written scenarios are tagged #my unsavory dreams

All short thoughts/random posts are tagged #forest nymph thoughts

🍂—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—🍂

This Blog’s Purpose & Expectations:

This is a place for me to explore and fantasize safely. A place to share all my dark desires and sensual thoughts. (If I reblog your content and you want it removed, just message me!)

All sizes, races, ethnicities, genders, and sexualities are welcome! (No hate or you’ll be blocked)

🕯️I have asks, submissions & anons open. Feel free to use them!

DM’s are limited to Mutuals only for the time being. Some of y’all can’t act right... and the creep vibes are severe. Do not send me unsolicited dick pics. I have the right to be treated as a person with feelings. I have a right to say no and control who I speak to and when, if ever. If this boundary can’t be respected, don’t follow or interact please. You will be blocked if you ignore.

🍂—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—🍂

My Kinks:

Bd/sm, Brat, Sub, Shibari, CNC, Somno, Spit, Light Degradation, Praise, Free Use, Rough, Forced Orgasm, Exhibitionist, Overstimulation/Orgasm Denial, Edging, Primal (prey), Pain Stimulation, Knife Play, Breeding (w/o pregnancy), Being Manhandled, & Soft Anal.

My No-Go’s:

Forced/Rough Anal, Actual Physical Violence, Slave, Actual Dubious Consent, Age-play, Puppy-play, Feeder/Gainer, Scat/Piss, Rape Fantasy/play

(I’ll add more as I find them out!)

I look forward to exploring & conversing with you all!

🍂—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—🍂

( I have had a few people dming asking for my cashapp... I don't mind if someone wants to send me something BUT I don't expect you to. I will never beg for money! This link is for those that have/will ask❤️💋 a nymphs lil coin purse to buy something pretty )

Anon Emojis:

|🗡️|🏏|🍄|🫎|

[thegainingdesk]

Regret

Vidhur couldn't pull his eyes away from his reflection in the mirror. The face he saw was familiar, for the most part - the same floppy hair stylishly quaffed, the same dark, playful eyes, framed by long, almost girlish eyelashes, the same long, thin nose, the same perfect, straight, white teeth. He'd even gotten used to the small gut that had recently become a permanent fixture on his previously athletic frame. But he couldn't take his eyes off of his jawline.

Vid knew, logically, he'd get a double chin sooner or later, that his face would change as he put on weight. Seeing it though, in the bright, unforgiving lights of the Weatherspoons loos, was quite another matter.

He should, he knew, be excited. Another external sign of the weight he was putting on, another gainer milestone ticked off, another change to his growing body to wank to later. But god, didn't he used to be so handsome? His sharp jawline, his cheekbones - he didn't expect them to get buried so quickly. He told himself it was the bad lighting, puffiness from the alcohol, he'd had a salty lunch. But he knew, this was his face now. He’d seen it coming for a while, ignored the changes in favour of focussing on the soft curve forming at his middle.

“What you doing then?”

Vid was snapped out of his reverie as his mate Trent walked in. He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing. Sorry, just thinking.”

“Fuuuck mate,” Trent groaned. “Can't be doing that. That's what the beer’s for. Here, you need to go get yourself another one if you're starting to do shit like thinking.”

Vid laughed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose you want one as well do you? Here, you fancy ordering some food?”

-

“Fuck!” Vidhur snapped, as he let go of the two sides of his waistband, and let his gut once again push them apart. He'd been struggling with them for five minutes now, sucked in his belly as far as it would go, tried to do them up lying down, tried yanking them suddenly, coaxing them slowly, but nothing would convince the two sides of the fabric to meet.

Vid looked down at the jeans lying crumpled on the floor. His boss would bollock him, he knew, if he turned up looking so casual. Maybe if he wore a jacket with them? No, his office was notorious for keeping up appearances, and besides, he didn't want to look like Jeremy Clarkson. He could stop off and buy some smart trousers before work? At that point, it was a choice between turning up on time wearing jeans or arriving properly dressed but late. Neither option seemed viable. He could hold his trousers together with a safety pin, maybe, and hide it with a belt? Not that he owned any safety pins, or realistically believed that worked outside of weight gain stories.

He sat down on his bed and sighed into his hands. He’d only bought a whole new wardrobe of 38-inch trousers and extra large shirts just over a month ago, and despite them becoming increasingly tight and pinching in the past couple of weeks, he’d managed to convince himself that they'd last him a little while at least. Unfortunately, he'd found his most recent growth particularly thrilling, and it had spurred him into some rather spectacular feats of gluttony, leading him into a rather vicious cycle of growth inspiring ever faster growth. Last Thursday he'd spent the whole day at work frantically itching his fleshy sides, only to see bright red lines there when he got undressed at home later that night. The revelation had pushed him into a weekend of unbridled gluttony, his uncomfortably swollen gut only adding to his sexual fervour and willing him on to stuff himself even more.

Vid didn't know whether to be thrilled with the effects of the weekend’s feasting, or horrified. He couldn't really need the next size of trousers up already, could he? But the evidence was right in front of him, straining around his waist, thighs and arse. This was getting out of control. Yes, he found fat guys hot, yes, he wanted to experience it for himself, but his little experiment was supposed to be twenty, maybe thirty pounds at most. Now here he was, 255 pounds, checking to see if Next had any 40-inch trousers in stock, and a couple of 42-inch just to be safe, wondering how long it would be until he needed new shirts as well. Was he even attracted to guys this big? He was bigger than even his university boyfriend Hamish had gotten all those years ago. No, he'd look at gym memberships this afternoon, this had all gone far enough.

Still though, he might as well get some McDonald’s breakfast while he was out. He didn't have to lose all the weight.

Vid picked up his phone. “Ellis? Yeah, hi, I'm really sorry, I'm going to have to work from home today. Yeah, a burst pipe, sorry.”

-

“Did you see his shirt today?” Vid heard Harriet-from-finance ask in a hushed tone.

“Stop!” came Liam-from-reception’s laughing reply. “I thought it was about the burst off of him!”

Vidhur stopped outside the break room and looked down at his shirt, which was notably straining around his gut. He had, he knew, outgrown 2XLs a while ago, but work had been so hectic that he'd not had time, or at least that's what he told himself. At weekends he was so preoccupied with stuffing himself, with pushing himself to beat personal challenges and records, and left in such a stupor afterwards, that he forgot everything else he needed to do. He had, at least, hoped that it wasn't quite so noticeable, and had thrown on a tie and cardigan in an effort to hide some of the worst of it.

He also, quietly, hoped that maybe this was as big as he'd ever get. That 2XL would be the biggest he'd ever see on a clothes tag. He knew that it made no sense, that his constant gorging guaranteed his continued growth, that he was already in dire need of some 3XLs, that every attempt he'd made to curb his growth had resulted in abject failure. Still though, he really hadn't wanted to get this big, honest.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Liam’s voice asked.

“You may in fact tell me nothing else,” Harriet’s voice replied.

“I actually used to fancy him,” Liam whispered.

Vid heard Harriet scream. “You did not! No, I'm sorry, you absolutely did not. Him? Seriously? He's so fat!”

“He genuinely used to be fit, before you started” Liam replied. “Like, properly fit. But then like a year ago he just suddenly got fat out of nowhere.”

Vid's stomach lurched. He knew that his weight gain was obvious, that everyone could see it, but he'd told himself that people still saw him as ‘chubby’, or ‘husky’, or ‘large’. To hear people call him fat, that some people were surprised he’d ever been anything else… Time, maybe, for him to stick to a diet. He took a deep breath in, sucked in his gut and walked into the break room.

“Oh hey guys, how are you?” he asked.

The pairs’ eyes widened and they both plastered on wide, fake smiles.

“Hey Viddy,” Liam drawled. “Oh, we’re good. We were just saying that Terry looks like he's put on some weight recently, weren't we Harriet?”

Harriet choked on her coffee and Vid saw her mouth “Stop it!” across the table at Liam.

“I don't know,” Vid replied. “He looks the same as ever to me.”

“Maybe,” Liam said, smiling. “I suppose, the thing is, I'm quite health conscious, so I notice these kinds of things.”

Vid saw Harriet slap Liam’s thigh and bite her lip. “Maybe,” Vid replied, seething. “Do you know if these donuts are for everyone?” he asked. “I've got a real sugar craving.”

“I think so,” Liam replied, before turning to Harriet and mouthing “Oh my god!” The two shook with silent laughter.

“Great,” Vid smiled. He took three.

-

“Oh my god, Terry! You look amazing!”

Vid looked up to see his co-worker Terry walk into the office after his holiday, with a broad smile on his face, an almost radioactive looking tan, and, most importantly, a significantly deflated gut. Terry held his arms out, showing off his baggy shirt and laughed. The office came to a standstill while everyone went over to congratulate him on his near-miraculous weight loss.

Vidhur declined to join the throng of people, instead looking down at the large gut filling his lap, and the small patch of sausage grease on his shirt from the first of that morning’s breakfast sandwiches. For a while now, he'd taken comfort in the fact that no matter how big he was getting, no matter how much weight he put on, as long as he stayed smaller than Terry, as long as he wasn't the fattest guy in the office, at least he was still in the realm of normality - a level of fat that an average member of the public could reach, without intentionally gorging themselves like Vid was doing. Okay, yes, Terry was thirty years older than Vidhur, and he'd put on his excess blubber over many years of sedentary desk work, happy marriage and living the good life, rather than Vid’s explosive weight gain of almost two hundred pounds over the last couple of years, but it remained a convenient and happy lie he could tell himself.

While Vid knew he’d been close to catching up with Terry anyway, he'd assumed that the effect of six weeks of all-you-can-eat buffets on Terry’s 58-year old metabolism would easily match the fifteen pounds Vid had put on while the older man was away. He felt ashamed. Sick. He'd blown himself up like a freak and now he was the fattest person he knew. Had he really ever meant to get this big? He'd just wanted to get a beer belly, hadn't he? Not this sack of lard he'd become.

“How did you do it Terry?” Sarah asked. Vid looked over. Maybe Terry was ill - some intestinal parasite caught in some distant country. Maybe, now he'd recovered, Terry was about to blow right back up, fatter than he'd ever been before, ready to take his heavyweight crown back from Vidhur.

“Well, I'd been thinking of dieting for a little while now,” Terry explained cheerfully. “I'd uh, well. I'd realised what I looked like. Just how fat I was.” Vid saw Terry look over at him, then look away again, a look of embarrassment on his face. Vid’s heart sank. Of course he was the huge monster that convinced Terry, the perpetually happy, lifelong fatty, just how disgusting his weight was.

“Well,” Terry continued, his face awkwardly turned away from where Vid was sat. “I thought the cruise would be awful for it, you know, all those buffets. But actually, they had these places you could go and they'd make me up these new salads every day, and I asked what was in them so I could make them at home - I've got them all written down. And the ship had this gym, and people there to help me. Three stone, I’ve lost so far.” The crowd around him gasped, ahh-ed and ooh-ed in astonishment at his feat. Terry waved them off. “Most of it was water weight, I lost most of it in the first couple of weeks.” Still, the admiration continued, and through the day Vid would cringe at each comment of congratulations. He noticed that a lot of people seemed to be avoiding him today - his size having been amplified by Terry’s sudden relative slimness.

“I hope you don't mind me saying Vid,” Terry said quietly later that day. “It's just, I know it's not easy, being so… well, you know.” Vid gave a short, uneasy smile in recognition that he did, in fact, know. “Well, I always thought I'd never be able to lose it. Told myself I was big boned, or that I had a slow metabolism, or that I just had too much of an appetite. But you know what Vid?” Vid could hear the pride in Terry's voice. “I just needed to decide to do it. It was easy in the end. Here, if I can do it, a young thing like you definitely can, eh?”

Vid smiled. He was terribly aware of the way he could feel the small action make his double chin crease even more. “Yeah, cheers Terry, I…” He paused and thought. “Maybe I have let it get too far.”

“If you ever need any healthy recipes or anyone to talk to, you know where I am, eh?” Terry smiled. “Here, can you believe I was almost twenty-four stone before my cruise? That was a wake-up call, I'll tell you that much.”

Vid whistled and raised his eyebrows. “Wow, yeah. That sure is… that sure is quite the number,” he said, giving a small chuckle. He turned back to his computer, knowing that he'd weighed in at over twenty-five stone that weekend. He had to lose some fucking weight.

-

Vid felt his whole body shake as he crashed to the floor. He wasn't sure if the crack of the chair breaking or the thwap of his soft body hitting the floor was louder, but he knew the combination was enough to bring the entire office crowding around his desk in a circle.

He lay on his side for a moment, dazed and winded as his co-workers murmured and pointed. He struggled into a crawling position, and did his best to ignore the roaring pain in his left hip and knee where he'd landed on them. In this position, his gut hung down far enough that it almost touched the ground. Vid's arms shook with the strain of holding up his weight, his heart pounded, and his breath was shallow and ragged.

“Come on, come on, help the man up,” Vid heard Terry's voice somewhere above him. “Here you go, easy now.” Vid felt a pair of hands grip his large flabby upper arms and strain to help him up. He did his best to not put too much weight onto the much smaller man as he staggered to his feet, but even so, he could see Terry struggle to stay upright. “You're okay, you're okay, there you are.” 

If Vid had enough breath, he'd have wanted to tell Terry that he wasn't a shell shock victim or a startled horse, and didn't need treating like one. Instead, he gasped out a breathless “thank you.”

“Come on, come on, someone get him a chair,” Terry barked at the gawping onlookers.

“Terry,” Sarah said out of the corner of her mouth. “Isn't the problem, you know, that the chairs don't support him?”

Vid wanted the ground to swallow him up. If he put on much more weight, perhaps it would. “I'll just go to the break room,” he said, refusing to meet anyone's eye.

“That's a good idea,” Terry said, still holding Vid’s arm and beginning to guide him. The crowd parted to allow Vid’s elephantine figure past, people pressing themselves into the desks on either side. “Let's get you sat on a nice comfy settee. Here, just let me…” He began pulling on Vid’s shirt, who looked down to see that it had ridden up so that most of Vid's soft, hanging gut was on show, with pale stretch marks almost glaring against his brown skin.

Behind Vid, he heard a creak and turned around to see Sarah probing the floor with her foot. “Yeah, I think the floorboard’s broken,” she sighed. Vid hastily helped Terry pull his shirt down, his pulse racing with shame.

Vid sat eating a plate of biscuits and a mug of “overly-sweet” tea (Terry's words; just the thing after a shock apparently. Vid didn't bother to tell him that it had less sugar than he usually put in it himself). He looked up as the door opened and his manager Ellis walked in, three years younger than Vid, and half his weight.

“HR says we’ve got to buy you a reinforced chair,” Ellis snapped. “Reasonable adjustments or some shit. If you ask me, the reasonable adjustment would be for you to lose some of that fucking blubber. Fucking hell man, I'm surprised the chair went before your heart did.”

The settlement made Vid very comfortable indeed.

-

Dr Wiltshire tutted as she looked at the charts in front of her. “If I'm being honest, you're lucky your blood pressure isn't even higher, considering your weight,” she said, not bothering to look up. She began to type something on her computer.

“Yeah, I get that I’ve-” Vid began.

“I can't believe it's taken you this long to come in,” the doctor interrupted. “Your records say that you last came in-,” she tapped at the screen and inhaled sharply, “four years ago. You've put on almost three-hundred pounds in that time, did you know that?”

“I guess I-”

She grabbed his forearm and pulled it towards herself. “I'm going to have to take some blood for a diabetes test,” she snapped. “If I can find a vein,” she added in a murmur.

Despite knowing his gut more than covered his crotch, Vid struggled against the erection he could feel forming. He'd stayed away from the doctors for years, knowing that he'd be judged for his explosive weight gain, and now he'd left it so long that it was so much worse than he could possibly imagine.

“We'll put you on some medication to lower your blood pressure, at a minimum,” Dr Wiltshire said once she'd taken some blood. “Its very likely that you’ll need to be on insulin as well, but we’ll talk about managing your diabetes at another appointment.”

“Well I thought we still had to test-”

“Yes, yes, we’ll need confirmation before we put you on ozempic. We can talk about that once we sort out your insulin,” she said.

“Well, I'm not sure I'd want to go on ozempic,” Vid said. “I've heard some bad things about it.”

Dr Wiltshire sighed. “Well, have you also heard some rather bad things about morbid obesity as well?”

Vid sat in silence the rest of the appointment, vowing to take on all of her advice, to make the changes to his diet she suggested, to start exercising more. He really had let all this get too far. He couldn't believe how badly he'd jeopardised his health for a fetish. Once he left, he realised he'd never even told her about the knee pain he'd made the appointment for.

-

“Go on,” Lee said, standing on the bed over Vid, stroking his thick erection. “Say it.”

“Please,” Vid said, as he strained towards his crotch.

“Please what?” Lee said. He raised a foot and pressed it lightly down on Vid's gut.

“Please let me cum,” Vid pleaded.

Lee’s face feigned bemusement. His hand continued pumping his cock. “You're allowed to cum,” he said. “You remember. We agreed that you needed to finish all-” he gestured towards the pile of fast food wrappers spilling over the side of the bed and onto the floor with his free hand “-of that food if you wanted to cum. And you did! Well done you.”

“But I can't…” Vid said.

“Sorry,” Lee said, bending slightly. At no point did his stroking slow. “What was that?”  His free hand pressed his ear forward.

“I can't make myself cum,” Vid said, his face flushing. “I can't reach my cock.”

Lee's hand sped up slightly. “Oh my!” he said, his face and voice in mock surprise. “Why wouldn't you be able to do that then?”

Vid was equal parts horny and genuinely embarrassed. “Because I'm too fat,” he said, collapsing back onto his pillows. “Because I can't reach around my fat gut, and even if I could, my dick is too small because it's been swallowed up by all my fat.”

Lee’s hand let go of his cock, and he let it hang, heavy and pulsing between his muscular thighs. “Why didn't you say?” he said, a smile spreading on his face. “Well then, you'll need me to do it for you I suppose then, won't you?” Vid nodded. “Sorry, what was that?” Lee asked. “I can’t see your gestures because they get swallowed by all the fucking fat.”

“Yes,” Vidhur said. He bit his lip.

“Well then. Eating all that food was the requirement for you being allowed to cum, not for me to do it for you,” Lee explained. “You'll have to have dessert if you want me to do that for you.” He shuffled forwards on the mattress, the motion made difficult by having to navigate around Vid’s sheer width. He lowered himself down until he was sat on Vid’s chest, the tip of his cock so close to Vid's lips that Vid could feel its warmth. “Do you want dessert?” Lee asked.

Vid answered by leaning forward and taking Lee's length into his mouth. He sucked hungrily, and Lee began to rock back and forth. Vid focussed on his technique, eager to please, gently stroking Lee’s balls and gripping his firm thighs. Lee moaned and gave a couple of shaking thrusts, jamming his cock into the back of Vid's throat, before Vid felt thick jizz pour down his throat. Lee pulled back and sighed contentedly while Vid coughed.

“Please,” Vid said as Lee climbed off of him. “Me now.”

Lee tutted and smiled. “Silly fatty!” he said. “That wasn't dessert. That was my cock.” He leant down and pulled a cake from below the bags he'd stashed beneath the bed. “No, this is dessert.”

Vid shook his head. “I'm too full. Please, I can't.”

Lee smiled. “I think you can. Big boy like you. And all that exercise you were doing trying to reach your little nub of a cock must have worked up quite an appetite.”

Vid closed his eyes and breathed heavily. His cock ached below the heavy pressure of his gut. “Give me the cake,” he said.

“I thought so,” Lee said. He didn't bother cutting the cake, just brought the whole thing to Vid's lips. Vid took huge bites, trying to eat it quick enough to trick his body into not noticing the huge amount of calories and sugar being forced into it. It didn't work. His stomach was straining and painful by the time he finished, and his head was spinning.

He was so dazed from the sugar that he could barely remember his aching cock, and was almost surprised when Lee's thick arm slid underneath his gut and began to work the exposed tip of his once impressive cock. Within thirty seconds, Vid yelled out and shook as he felt his crotch fill with semen.

“Same time next week?” Lee asked, wearing a thin pair of sweatpants and pulling on a muscle-tee, while Vid waddled back from the shower.

“Yeah. Money's on the bedside table,” Vid said.

Lee nodded. “Yeah, I got it, thanks.” He stayed sitting, unusual for him. “That was new, wasn't it?” he asked after a moment.

“What was?” Vid asked.

“Not being able to reach yourself,” Lee said. “You've done it before, but always pretending, part of play. That was different, wasn't it? You really couldn't?”

Vid shrugged. “For a while now. Too much in the way,” he explained.

“Right, right,” Lee said quietly. “You okay with that? I mean, I know this is your thing and everything. Shit, it's my thing too. But, you know, it's okay to not be okay with parts of it. To take a step back? I know how this can sort of run away with you. I used to think I didn't like guys over three-hundred, now that's my entire client-base.”

Vid nodded. “I'm okay with it. I've… well, I've definitely not been okay with it sometimes. But I've always kept going. Gotten okay with it, in the end.”

Lee nodded. “Okay. Good. Well, you’ve got my number if you need to talk, yeah? I won't even charge if I've got my clothes on,” he joked. “Or I could put you in touch with some other big guys? One of my exes is even bigger than you, might be good to talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be good thanks,” Vid said with a smile. “But, genuinely, I'm fine. I've got a good community going, I've come to terms with all the shit that comes along with this.”

Lee stood up. “Okay then,” he said. “No regrets?” he asked.

Vid shook his head. “No regrets.”