#swelling moobs

[fatblackfleetboys]

Beautiful moob and gutt fattttt😃. I'm not even filled yet😏😏☺️

[cypr1anlatew00d]

funniest thing about getting anaesthesia was the doctor was super friendly and like asking all these questions about my job and where I'm from to distract me from the series of syringes he was lining up and past a certain point I was just like "It's hard to come up to answers for these questions because I'm really scared haha" and then he was like "ok breathe this it's just oxygen" and. out.

[fattystoriez]

The Roomate

Content Warning: Weight Gain

Tyus was for and athletic throughout his life, being on the football, wrestling and track teams in high school. Tyus was at college on a varsity football scholarship, he was just getting to campus for his first day when he met his roomate. He was surprised to find that his roommate was a 36 year old slobbish man to be his roommate. The man was wearing a tight blue polo, his fat guy and soft chest clung to the fabric. The shirt was stained with different stains.

“Nice to meet you” *BURAAAPP* The man belched loudly. “I’m Brayden.” Brayden pulls down his shirt as it rides up his belly.

Tyus was disgusted by his roomate, he was hairy, bald, fat… a total cock block. “I’m Tyus… you’re not what I expected for a roommate.” Tyus puts some bags down, he noticed that Brayden was very musky and the room was filled with it.

Brayden scratched his soft double chin “You’re exactly what I expected, a young fit jock.” Brayden got closer, his musk started to fill Tyus’ nostrils fogging up his brain. “Can get anyone with a flex from his toned arms, always showing them off with an athletic tank top.” Brayden put a hand on Tyus’ abs, rubbing them from under the shirt. Tyus wanted to push the fat perv away but he was sluggish. “Come sit down with me” Tyus noticed that there was a disgusting stained couch in the dorms living area, Brayden pushed Tyus right down onto the cum stained cushions.

The musk was making Tyus more submissive and agreeable to Brayden’s lifestyle. “ Oh uh wow… you smell… dis-“ Tyus had a hard time saying it, his cock beginning to twitch in his workout shorts.

“I know I’m smell great don’t I?” Brayden wafted his musk over to Tyus. “What do you like to eat, Tyus?”

“Oh I usually just eat lean meat and vegetables…” Tyus felt odd about what he was saying, he started to feel like that wasn’t true.

“Oh but you look like a man who really loves doughnuts, right” Brayden took out a dozen doughnuts and started shoving them into Tyus’ mouth.

“No I don-mphhhhh” Brayden moved Tyus’ hands to his fat belly.

“You feel that? You love that soft fat pig belly.” Brayden shoved another doughnut into Tyus’s mouth.

Tyus’s body began to swell with fat, bite after bite, covering his once toned abs. His flabby belly pressed against his tank top, his chest softening and become plump moobs. This looks down at his blubbery body, a mix of arousal and fear caused his cock to stiffen in his shorts. “Oh my god…” Brayden forces another doughnut into Tyus’s moth “I’m getting so…” Tyus felt his belly gurgle as he let out a loud belch. “UUUUrrraaaaPPP”

“You’re becoming a fat piggy” Brayden squeezes Tyus’s left moob while forcing new junk food into his mouth, Tyus began to sweat from under his moobs. “oh damn you plumped up nicely, let’s keep going” Brayden pulled out unlabeled jars of a chocolaty thick fluid, he shoves a funnel into Tyus’s mouth and pours the mixture into his mouth. It tasted so sweet and decadent, and it was causing Tyus to swell quickly.

“S-stop… I’m getting so f-fat!” Tyus’s alarm went away as he put his hands on his fat belly, he couldn’t help but play with the soft mass of blubber that had replaced his abs. Tyus didn’t know it but he had grown a double chin, softening and removing his once sharp jawline. Tyus tried fighting, but Brayden’s musk was too much for him to handle. Tyus’s body swelled, growing a light dusting of body hair. Brayden started to remove his tank top and shorts to show off the whale that had replaced the jock.

“Oh how do you feel piggy? Feel like being my submissive slob??” Brayden shook Tyus’s belly, causing it to jiggle, a sensation that was foreign to Tyus.

“I- I-“ Brayden gave Tyus’s nipple a tug, causing a surge of pleasure that made Tyus’s cock shoot a load. “I am your submissive piggy” Tyus moaned as he left a wet spot on the couch. Tyus’s mind went completely submissive and dumb, the muscled jock that was there minutes ago no longer existed, only a dumb obese pig.

[gottagetpig]

Wishing you all a fatty new year from this greedy hog! I've done nothing but be a spoiled little fatty, constantly stuffing their face like a good little piggy these holidays, Feeling my body swell from the onslaught of fatty food and junk I stuff into my mouth. With each decadent feast I've had, I can't stop myself, pigging out moaning softly as my unabashed gluttony draws the eyes of onlookers. The ecstasy I feel as my moobs grow more larger and more grabbable, belly growing softer, expanding like dough with soft grabbable fat that I can't keep my hands from feeling all the while my need for more continues to grow, making piggy greedier and more demanding. Fat piggies like me should be spoiled, fattened just like they deserve and every new roll worshipped. The straining of my clothes as  my calorie addled body grows bit by bit, threatening to burst as I continue to pig out, feeling the addictive euphoria as my thighs and ass strain against my jeans, my belly rising more and more over my lap for the world to see, until a sudden pop as buttoned jean suddenly have none, my soft flabby belly rolling further out causing me to whine and stuff myself with renewed vigour, in heaven stuffing my increasingly gelatinous body. I can't and won't stop myself from stuffing my fat face whenever i can, after all a piggy like me deserves all the food, praise and belly worship they want,. The people around me giving me seconds, thirds, just to satiated me. Some giving their own meals knowing im just such an insatiable hog and deserve so much more...

Even as the holidays draw to a close I won't stop, can't stop stuffing myself like an uncontrolled hog. Feeling my body swell as hazy, addicting desires for so much more gluttony and flab pervade my piggy mind. Weeks become months of constant gluttony. Months become years as every gluttonous desire is fulfilled unabated. The hedonistic spoiling spiraling as my weight climbs higher and higher still. Sounds of huffing and wheezing fills the room as I struggle to waddle forward immense apron of dough that is my belly swathed in countless folds and fat. Every inch of fat jiggling with every lumbering step, massive mounds that make my moobs and belly obstruct my view. Wheezes give way to moans as I shove whatever huge snack I can into my gurgling ever demanding stomach. The desire for more food grows as i slowly waddle over to the counter, rolls of fat flowing over the counter, leaving the cashier in awe as I order feast after feast. Before waddling slowly over to the table shocking everyone with my size and unabashed gluttony, taking hedonistic pleasure at how much of a huge piggy I am. Months pass again and the sheer heft of my massive bubbly ass and dangerously soft thighs break all but the most heavy duty of chairs, until eventually I become too heavy to get up myself, whining and wheezing as I'm helped up to my fat buried feet only to be unable to fit through Doorways. Flabby rear and gelatinous belly pressed against the frame, free from any constraint of clothing. Eager hands of my doting feeders worship every fold and inch of fat, eagerly placing greasy foods into my mouth stuffing me more and more.  And it'll not be enough for me, it'll never be enough. 

Fatten me until my flabby belly hangs to my knees. When every part of my body becomes swathed with flab and gelatinous. Every fold worshipped as a temple gluttony.~

Spoiled more and more until the word loses meaning, every hedonistically gluttonous desire I have fulfilled. Pampered and praised as I gain countless more pounds.~

Turn me into a wheezing blob of lard constantly fattened, crushing everything from beds to couches beneath a growing ocean of flab. Moaning and wheezing demandingly for more~

Fatten your idol of gluttony~

[piggytfs]

Colton had always seemed like the perfect guy. He was in the prime of his life with a jacked physique, smoldering blue eyes, and a cocky smirk that made both men and women swoon. He was the king of the gym, the star of his university’s football team, and the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. Sometimes, this was an awesome thing. Like when the cheerleader babes would eye him up like a sexy slab of all American beef. He loved to show off his muscles for them, listening to them giggle and squeal.

However, he didn't like being ogled by just anyone. Some dudes were oblivious to the hints he would drop: that he was in no way, shape, or form interested in their pathetic, gay attention.

Which was why he hated the way his doctor, Dr. Reynolds, kept looking at him as if he was about to blow a disgusting load into his XL work khakis.

The older man was always too touchy during checkups, his eyes lingering just a little too long on the younger man's biceps and firm pecs. It made Colton’s skin crawl. As he sat on the exam table, dressed in nothing but his compression shorts, he felt those eyes scanning over his muscles again. Dr. Reynolds was eyeing Colton's girthy package, moments away from drooling.

“Man, I wish you’d stop looking at me like that,” Colton muttered hatefully under his breath.

A chill ran down his spine. The air in the room seemed to shift — something he couldn't perceive, but he could not deny that something had begun to change. Dr. Reynolds blinked, his expression becoming blank and flat, before his lips curled into an amused grin.

“Looking at you like what, Colton?” the doctor asked, his voice laced with condescension. He had never spoken so haughtily before. “Like I’d ever be interested in you?”

Colton frowned. That wasn’t right. Dr. Reynolds had definitely been checking him out less than a second ago. The man was a fat perv who drooled over his hot athlete patients, this wasn't far from the normal experience. “Dude, you were just—”

Colton's stomach lurched so violently that he couldn't stop the URRRRRRRRRRRRRP that erupted out of his mouth. A deep, guttural gurgle started to brew inside his belly. He gasped, gripping his gut as an unbearable heat spread through his body. Sweat collected on his forehead, dripping down the sides of his body as his pits became slick and hairy. His skin tingled, rippled, then started to sag under the new weight.

He stared in horror at the full body mirror propped up against the wall, watching as his reflection warped before his very eyes. His sculpted pecs deflated, drooping into soft, flabby moobs. Curls of dark, wiry hair began to sprout across his aging skin. His tight six-pack was swallowed by lard as thick rolls of fat spilled over the waistband of his shorts. They had fit snugly before, but now they were far too tight. His thighs swelled, losing their lean definition as they turned into fat, pale slabs of dimpled hairy flesh that rubbed together, sticky with sweat. The smells wafting off his changing body made Colton want to gag.

“What the fuck?” he gasped, his voice cracking, higher, wheezier — wrong.

Dr. Reynolds chuckled. But his nasally voice seemed different — his slouchy posture was correcting itself — the old pervy doctor was being transformed, too! His hunched shoulders began to straighten, his immense potbelly retreating into an increasingly sculpted core as abdominal muscles pressed against his much smaller, tighter shirt. All the fat on his body began to melt away as years of neglect were reversing before Colton’s eyes. Dr. Reynold's graying hair darkened, growing thick and healthy. His wrinkles faded into smooth, taut skin. His pasty complexion was now bronzed and glowing.

“Colton, please settle down. This is your usual checkup, nothing more. And quit cussing — you of all people should know better,” Dr. Reynolds said, but his voice was deeper now, stronger, more confident. His lab coat suddenly fit better, snug against a chest that was now larger than Colton's had ever been. Even the man's biceps looked larger, veins running across the surface.

“What?” Colton wheezed, struggling to pull up his compression shorts as they dug painfully into his growing gut and fat pad. But the fabric was changing beneath his fingertips — stretching, darkening —becoming ratty sweatpants stained with grease and even grosser liquids.

“You’re always acting like a nervous wreck when you come in here,” Dr. Reynolds went on, now casually adjusting the very tight sleeves of his tailored hospital uniform. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now. How many times have I told you to cut back on the junk food? Christ, Colton, you really have ballooned since last visit.”

“No, no, no—” Colton gripped his thickening face, his bloated fingers sinking into new layers of soft, jowly fat. His chiseled jawline was buried beneath multiple chins, his sharp cheekbones lost forever beneath two fat dimples. His now greasy hair thinned before his eyes, receding higher and higher up his forehead. His nose widened, nostrils flaring as they twitched from the rancid stench that rose from his body.

Sweat. Cum. Food. Gas.

These were the things that defined him now.

Dr. Reynolds— younger, stronger, undeniably out of Colton's league — waved a large hand in front of his face, grimacing at the foul stench. “Jesus, did you even shower before coming in? Or is that just how you always smell?”

Colton’s mind reeled in confusion. He could still feel his old self somewhere, buried beneath all the blubber, the sweat, the stink. This wasn’t real—this wasn’t him! His chest hair begun to turn white, his balding hair turning gray as a salt-and-pepper beard erupted across his fat chins.

“I’m not—” he gasped in exhaustion. “I’m not—”

The words caught in his throat. He was losing the battle to remain himself.

Dr. Reynolds smirked, beginning to remove his now perfectly-fitted coat, muscles rippling with his every movement. “Not what? Not some fat, pathetic, gay slob who spends more time shoveling junk food into his face than actually taking care of himself?” He scoffed, his beautiful face glaring down at Colton like he was the smallest morbidly obese man in the world. “Colton, be serious for once in your life. When’s the last time you even saw the inside of a gym?”

Colton had just been at the gym — he had been hitting the weights all morning long before his check up! Pumping iron, running drills! He had done all of these things! But even as he reached for those memories of himself as a young and disciplined jock, they slipped away, replaced by something else — something that terrified him.

Hazy images of stained couch cushions arose in his conflicted mind, fast food wrappers strewn across his disgusting apartment. Late nights spent online on gainer forums took root in his brain, scrolling through mukbang videos while stuffing his own face. He vividly recalled jerking off to images of fit jocks who wouldn't even spit on him if he were on fire.

His stomach roared, suddenly starving, and he felt his mouth water at the thought of a greasy double cheeseburger and some extra-large fries.

“No…” Colton whimpered, shaking his fat head, his chins jiggling with the motion. His once proud cock had shrunken beneath his growing fat pad, but he could still feel it throbbing, rubbing against his folds as his massive body wobbled with each breath. It felt like he was balancing a beachball on his lap. And it was inflated to the point it was about to pop.

Dr. Reynolds scribbled something down on his clipboard, his biceps bulging slightly as he moved. Colton's little nub of a cock got harder, his fat lips glistening with drool. “Well, old man, we’re gonna have to talk about your cholesterol again. Not that you’ve ever listened to me before. You’re lucky I even let you keep coming in — most guys your size just give up on doctors entirely.” The young man chuckled, voice smooth, self-assured. “Then again, I guess you have given up, huh?”

Colton tried to protest, to fight, but his body ached — his back was sore from carrying so much weight, and his thick thighs were chafing with every tiny movement. His gut gurgled again, demanding food, reminding him of who he was — who he had always been. An obese, smelly old man who was addicted to porn; who got off to young jocks teasing him for being such a fucking loser.

Reality snapped into place around him.

Dr. Reynolds sighed, shaking his handsome head as he handed Colton a prescription slip. His hand was strong, veined, perfect, as Colton’s thick sausage fingers struggled to take it. “Here. Not that you’ll actually do anything about it, but at least it makes me feel better.”

Colton looked down at the slip. His chubby fingers struggled to grip the paper, smudged with sweat and burger grease he couldn't be assed to wash off. His name at the top was the same, but… had he ever been that perfect, sculpted jock that was still lingering in his mind? Had he really played football, been admired by his peers, been wanted by anyone in a sexual sense?

Or had he always been this old, flatulent lard ass loser?

“Get outta here, Colton,” Dr. Reynolds said, already moving on to the next file. His grin was smug, confident, gleaming. “And try not to waddle too much on your way out.”

Colton got up and rubbed his sagging, bloated belly as he marched out of the room. He knew there was no helping his waddle, but he found himself blushing in shame as his wide ass cheeks jiggled behind him. As he left the room, Colton squeezed out a nasty, droning fart. His tiny cock was squirting pre into his fat pad folds.

A distant voice in his mind was screaming for mercy, but the new Colton just got off on the sheer weight of his obese body, the knowledge that his handsome, young doctor thought he was disgusting. Fuck. This was the only reason he still showed up to his appointments.

This old perv needed to get home and order some fast food and start jerking to his favorite jock porn immediately! He'd consider actually reading his prescription slip tomorrow.

(this story is a reimagined version of Athlete No More by the iconic @bigfuckingdudes)

[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.

[theother456-stories]

Dylan was the kind of sleeper that nothing could wake. Marco had learned that early in their relationship, thunderstorms, car alarms, even a loud neighbor’s midnight vacuuming spree hadn’t stirred him. The only thing that reliably worked was the smell of breakfast or a firm shake. But Marco had learned to use that deep sleep to his advantage.

And for the past month, he’d been preparing for this.

Dylan had always been soft, with just a hint of a belly and a little plush to his thighs. Marco loved every inch of him. But he also fantasized about more. More belly to feed. More weight to move. More of Dylan, helplessly stuffed, overflowing with size, and utterly at Marco’s mercy.

The plan was simple, if a little insane. A carefully rigged feeding tube setup. A fridge full of high-calorie shakes and creamy, rich concoctions Marco had perfected through trial and error. Special weight gain powders blended with melted ice cream, condensed milk, and butter. And, most importantly, Dylan’s sleep schedule.

That night, Dylan was out cold by 9 PM. Marco had pampered him, spoiled him with a heavy, carb-loaded dinner, warm bath, and long body massage until his boyfriend was fully relaxed and snoring. With the lights dimmed and his heart pounding in anticipation, Marco got to work.

The feeding tube slipped gently into place, nestled between Dylan’s lips. He stirred briefly, smacked his lips once, and then began swallowing automatically. Marco’s fingers twitched with excitement.

The first few hours were smooth. Vanilla cream shakes. Melted cheesecake. Thick protein smoothies with triple the fat. Dylan took it all down without a single waking moment. By midnight, his belly was visibly rising, pudgy softness rounding outward from its usual small curve.

By 2 AM, Dylan’s stomach had swelled into a proper dome. His shirt had ridden up past his chest, exposing the tight, stretched skin of his growing gut. His thighs had softened, spreading wider against the sheets. Marco couldn’t stop touching him, caressing the expanding flesh, feeling it shift and jiggle under his palms.

By 4 AM, Dylan looked like he’d gained a hundred pounds. His cheeks were fuller. His chest had blossomed into soft, bouncy moobs. His sides formed gentle rolls. His boxers were straining. Marco kept the pump running, mixing in heavier shakes with melted butter and extra sugar, just to see how far he could go.

By sunrise, Dylan was unrecognizable.

Three hundred pounds heavier, his body had transformed into a massive, indulgent pile of softness. His belly was gigantic, round and flushed, the skin warm to the touch and taut from the night’s steady flood of calories. His thighs were thick and bulging, his arms doughy, his fingers fattened slightly with water weight and softness. He looked… glorious.

Marco crouched by the bed, eyes wide, cock aching, admiring the sheer immensity of what he’d created.

Then Dylan stirred.

A soft grunt escaped him. His eyelids fluttered open. He tried to stretch, and gasped.

“Wh… what the hell?” he croaked, voice thick with sleep.

He shifted again, only to realize his body was far heavier than it had been when he went to bed. He tried to sit up, but his arms sank into the mattress, weighed down by his own bulk.

“Marco?!” he said, his voice rising in shock.

Marco smiled, crawling onto the bed beside him. “Morning, baby.”

“What the fuck happened to me?!” Dylan’s eyes were wide, darting down to the massive curve of his gut. “I’m…I’m huge!”

“You are,” Marco whispered, running his fingers over the curve of Dylan’s belly. “Three hundred pounds bigger. I’ve been feeding you all night.”

Dylan whimpered, both hands sinking into the overfed softness of his belly. “I can’t even move…”

“That’s okay,” Marco murmured. “You don’t need to. I’ll take care of everything. You just lie there and grow for me.”

Dylan’s cock twitched under the mass of his gut, trapped and hard. “You really… did this to me? All night?”

“You didn’t stop swallowing,” Marco said, pouring thick shake into a fresh bottle. “Your body wanted it, even if you didn’t know it yet.”

Dylan groaned, hips squirming. “I’m so full… but it feels…god, it feels good.”

“You’re beautiful like this,” Marco whispered, tilting the bottle toward Dylan’s lips. “Now open up. Let’s see if you can handle just a little more.”

And Dylan, his face flushed, heart pounding, opened his mouth, surrendering to his boyfriend’s greedy affection.

[mrjgain]

The coach always sizes you up when he calls you into his office. You're proud of how you've listened to his instructions and been on his bulk for months now. You've made the gains he wanted and more. Sure your jersey is a bit snug and your belly keeps getting bigger and almost always peeking out, but the coach said to ignore that.

He looks happy with your gains, offering you more gainer shakes as he starts poking and prodding at you from your thunder thighs and ass to your pecs turned moobs. He seems especially focused on your belly and watching as it swells more with each shake you complete. Even though the coach is smaller than you and you could push him off at any time, you never do. You can't seem to say no to him. It's been harder to even think of opposing him the bigger you've gotten.

Coach says you're ready to stop being an active jock now. You just polished off the fourth and final shake , getting ready to ask what he means, but he elaborates on his own. You'll stop being a jock soon because he is turning you into a dumb pig. He possessively grabs your belly and shakes it before telling you to lay back on the couch. Too stunned to think, you sit on the couch and sit back, letting out an "oof" as your full belly weighs you down and the couch creeks.

He orders you to take off your pants as he grabs lube from his desk drawer. Your pants fly off like they were on fire and soon you're on your back with the coach over you and lifting your thighs up and apart. You can't stop his big dick from stretching your hole wider and wider as he enters you. You should be able to since he is half your size, but his dick makes it feel impossible. Like you're being put in your place.

A rhythmic fucking starts taking place as his tight muscled body meets your soft fat and you can't help as moans start involuntarily escaping your mouth. His thrusts are strong and forceful, but you can take it. This must be a different form of training to help you a better team member. His thrusts even making your belly bounce and you feel the shakes sloshing around inside your belly.

"Are you ready to be an even more important part of the team?" He says between thrusts, slamming harder when he finishes asking.

You're in no position to speak in full sentences, leaving only a weak voiced, "y...yes" to come out.

"You'll be the team pig. A cum dump for the team to use, fatten, and fill food and cum You're tough enough to take all those horny jock cocks, arent you?" His thrusts get harder, pounding his words into you.

You're one of the biggest guys on the team and you can only imagine how it would look to have all these smaller, fit men bending you over and using you whenever they wanted. That your hole would keep being stretched and used to the point that you would likely start feeling empty without a cock buried inside your ass. Needing bigger and bigger cocks. Another yes is fucked out of you.

You know once he cums inside of you, you're only going to want more. If you wanted to get away, you could push the coach off of you easily, and yet you find yourself under this man's control as your thighs keep spreading to accommodate. A position and sensation you'll be getting used to very soon.

"Tell me what you are then" he says as he punctuats every word with another hard thrust.

You tell him you're a cum dump. A dumb pig waiting to be fattened. A bottom whore ready to be used. A weak willed jock who can be taken down and mentally broken by cock alone. You feel like youre giving up any chance of being a fit top cub as you admit it.

Coach loves it. You know because he starts cumming inside you. Grunting and thrusting the first of many loads into you. Coach always knew what was best for you. First, the bulk, and now he has shown you how much better bottoming suits you. You started to feel that way once the bulk started, and that must have been what Coach was trying to teach you. Becoming a cum dump for the team must be in your best interest too. You just have to trust the coach. He'll make sure you end up where you belong. On your back or belly, eith your legs spread and a cock in one or both of your holes.

Holy fuck, you guys can read me like a book🥴. Gotta admit I wouldn't mind one bit to be the teams essential bottom whore😏. I just can't help it at this point, I just wanna be coaches biggest and best boy, so I gotta obey. Had to jo to this if I'm being honest💦. You guys just enable me to whore out and I love it, fuck I love you all🫶🏼

[hoggobblin]

Defective Berry

This happened sometimes. There was always a risk that the transformation would not take as intended, although the percentage of that was fairly low. You were warned of the risks, signed countless waivers giving your consent to a permanent transformation no matter the results, and you still took the chance. You wanted to be a blueberry so badly. You were just unlucky.

Most people who became blueberries swelled four to five times their previous size within minutes. Some took longer - days of gradual inflation until they were bulbous and immobile. But not you.

You swallow the thick blue pill and the sweet tang of juice instantly floods your mouth. You take that as a good sign, swallowing mouthfuls of syrupy liquid as a blue stain creeps across your skin. You can't help but moan when your stomach gurgles and bloats. You begin to feel uncomfortably full as your belly stretches, too big to be contained. The swell reaches your sides and back, you start to round out and your chest puffs out. Your limbs begin to thicken and your arms grow heavy under the weight. Your cheeks bubble up and your moans become muffled by your lips thickening into a perpetual pucker and your tongue swelling in your mouth. With a pop, your belt bursts off of you and your pants button flies off. Your shirt rides up until they catch on your moobs. Your belly is out and growing, your limbs start to sink into it, absorbed by your growing mass. You spread your legs to make room for your crotch pushing down, it rubs the insides of your thighs as they begin to merge. Your arms are lifted by your rising sides, you clench and flap your hands to the addicting pressure of the juice inside of you. You shut your eyes and listen to it swirling in your head, your ears, an ocean trapped inside a balloon threatening to burst. This is everything you wanted.

But then it stopped.

You open your eyes and struggle to look down at yourself. You don't feel like a berry, but it's impossible to see around your blue belly. You flex your hands to test your mobility and to your growing dismay realize that you still have arms up to the elbow. You bend them to try to reach around your belly, trying to push down it and see yourself.

"Oh that's too bad," the assistant in the room with you clicked her tongue pitingly. She walks around you to fetch a full length mirror and sighed as she propped it against the wall in front of you. "It's not your fault, hun. Some people just don't take to being berrified."

You look in the mirror and you chin begins trembling. You look like you decided to wear a giant blue yoga ball as a costume with just your arms and legs sticking out at the elbow and knees. Your neck is thick but not yet sunken into those divots that make you go wild over berries. Your crotch is stil a little less than two feet off the ground, sadly never to surpass your feet and hold you up on a teetering, wobbling point.

Trying to hold back disappointed tears, you look pleadingly at the assistant. "Gib me abobher owne."

She shook her head. "Sorry, hun. Side effects this early increases the risk of exploding. You're lucky you didn't get too big. I'm gonna run you through some mobility tests to see if you qualify for a handler, okay?"

Helplessly, you agree and swallow back tears as she has you stretch, reach, and waddle around the room. The exercise is humiliating as you realize just how unwieldy your body is, now stuck between half-berry and half-human. You can't reach around yourself, you have to turn sideways and risk tipping yourself over to pick up the items she asks you to. Your head can only turn so far before you're forced to shift from one unbending leg to another and make a full body turn. It takes you a full minute to wobble from one side of the room to the other, your steps cumbersome and roiling the juice inside you, throwing off your balance. You almost fall over multiple times but the assistant is satisfied enough that she releases you without a handler. She gives you a condescending pat on the stomach and a commercial smile as she ushers you out of the door, telling you again how lucky you are.

You don't feel lucky. You stand in front of the door as people passing openly stare at you, a blue half-grown blimp who wasn't good enough to become a blueberry. Shame heavier than the juice in your gut floods you, and you start the long walk home, one unsteady waddle at a time.

[fatblackfleetboys]

🐗🐗🐗This is the aftermath of stuffing myself with 5 cups of oatmeal later, and FUCK I just love my belly being so big and would love help to make it bigger🐖🐖🐖.

[fattystoriez]

The Blob

Content Warning: Rapid weight gain

Tyler stood outside the small theater, his hands in his pockets, squinting up at the marquee that proudly advertised the revival screening of the 1958 original "The Blob". As a fan of classic horror films and Halloween, he thought that seeing such a classic movie might be an interesting way to spend the evening. What surprised him wasn’t just the fact that there was a line for such a niche film but he was surprised to see that tt wasn’t the usual crowd of film buffs or horror nerds... it was a bunch of shirtless fat men.

At first Tyler had to blink and rub his eyes, wondering if he was seeing things, but no... the people in line were grotesquely and unapologetically fat men. Their massive bellies hung over their pants, soft and jiggling with every tiny movement. Some of them looked almost… content. They were more than just content, they were in bliss, rubbing and kneading their fat. Tyler watched as their fingers push into their fat bellies and soft moobs.

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler muttered under his breath, trying to avoid looking at the freak show, but it was hard. The scene was bizarre. He glanced down at his own flat stomach, his lean frame almost embarrassingly out of place. His polo shirt was crisp, his khaki shorts neat and tailored, he was a toothpick compared to the slobs ahead.

One guy in particular who was standing right next to him caught Tyler’s attention, the dude was massive and easily over 300 pounds. The man's belly hanging down past his waist, his chest sagging with plump mounds of fat. The man’s eyes were half-lidded, a dumb, vacant grin plastered on his face as his fingers absentmindedly massaged his belly, making it ripple and jiggle.

"What the hell was going on here? Why were these guys here?" He leaned slightly toward the man, trying to get his attention.

“Hey, man, what’s going on here?” Tyler asked, trying to keep his voice casual. “Why are there so many people like… uh, this?” He gestured vaguely, not wanting to offend but also clearly unnerved.

The obese man didn’t respond or even look at Tyler, instead he let out a long, low groan of pleasure. As he continued to rub his fat belly, his hands sank deep into the soft pillowy flesh, his fingers brushing over the thick rolls with a kind of mindless obsession. His massive man tits jiggled slightly with every movement, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened across his doughy skin.

Tyler stepped back, wide-eyed and a little freaked out. “What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath. As Tyler looked around, the rest of the line was the same. Fat men everywhere, all of them playing with their fat. Tyler could even see that some were even drooling slightly, as if the very act of feeling their own flab was enough to send them into some kind of brainless trance.

Tyler shifted uneasily in line, the weirdness of the situation gnawing at his brain. His lean body felt out of place as every other guy in this line was a fat obsessed hog. He glanced down at his own flat stomach, still taut under the fabric of his polo shirt. A small comfort in the middle of this bizarre nightmare.

That’s when it started.

A tingling sensation like static electricity began creeping up his spine, sinking into his abdomen. He scratched absently at his side assuming it was just nerves, but it didn’t go away. In fact, it intensified. A low buzz filled his head as his stomach felt like it was… was... pressing forward???

"What the fuck?"

His stomach was pushing against his shirt, a small but noticeable paunch that hadn’t been there seconds ago. His fingers probed the soft flesh, confusion gripping him. “What the hell is going on?” his voice sounding shaky.

His stomach expanded further, stretching the fabric of his polo until it strained against his belly. His sides bulged outward, forming thick, fleshy love handles that pressed into the waistband of his khaki shorts. Tyler’s breath hitched as he felt his chest swelling too, the little definition he had, the faint outline of muscle, vanished beneath growing layers of fat. His chest puffed out, sagging, forming plump moobs that jiggled slightly with every breath.

No, no, no, no…

His hands frantically pushed his body, trying to hold back the waves of blubber. His once sharp jawline softened as he sported a double chin that quivered with every movement. His ass sagged into a mound of fat that hung low, jiggling against the growing mass of his thighs.

When Tyler tried to speak the words came out jumbled and incoherent. His mind felt foggy, clouded with a strange, heavy feeling that dulled his senses. The more his body grew, the more the buzzing in his head grew louder, the feeling was drowning out any coherent thought.

A moan slipped past his lips as his fingers brushed over his now massive belly, the soft, jiggly flesh sending waves of pleasure through his dumbed-down brain. His belly was fat, pressing harder against his shirt, stretching the material until it finally ripped open. The the short tore off his now obese frame, it exposed the full, wobbling mass of his gut. His khaki shorts were next, leaving him standing in nothing but tighty whiteys that barely clung to his widening body.

Tyler’s mind was almost completely gone by now, his thoughts replaced by one overwhelming obsession: his belly. He couldn’t stop touching it, couldn’t stop jiggling the fat that had once been foreign but now felt so right. He was like the men in line, no longer a lean, smart young man. Tyler had become a dumb, slobbering mass of flesh, consumed by the simple pleasure of feeling his fat jiggle beneath his fingers. Tyler had become "The Blob".

[piggytfs]

Impressive start. These stories about such guys becoming depraved fatass gooners are rather well written with good image references. Looking forward to seeing what you next produce.

thank you for the encouragement. there's several asks in my inbox i need to answer - and there's several people waiting patiently to be changed for the better. can't wait until all my readers are pervy gainer hogs.

as a thank you, here's a treat for you all:

Kyle smirked smugly as he cracked his knuckles, focusing his gaze on the glowing screen of his roommate Aaron’s laptop. The chubby loser had stepped out for the night, leaving behind his personal device like a quite-literally-open invitation. It was shocking enough that the chubby fag actually had a reason to leave his room for once, but this was the icing on the cake. Kyle, the undisputed king of their shared dorm — athletic, classically handsome, irresistible to hot babes —couldn’t resist the temptation to snoop.

Aaron was weird, always stuffing his chubby face with greasy food and belching endlessly, sweating through his XL shirts as he waddled in and out. Kyle figured the loser had to be into something embarrassing. He'd take a quick peek, snap a picture or two, and he'd have a couple month's worth of entertainment to milk when he showed his bros later. He expected to see some cringey anime shit, maybe weird foot stuff. But this?

Kyle’s breath caught as a video popped open on the screen.

An obese, hairy, gray-haired man reclined in a chair, his too-small shirt riding up over a massive, bouncing gut. The guy looked at the camera with a lazy, satisfied grin, and he used his massive hand to rub slow, indulgent circles into his belly.

“Mmmph… just keep feedin’ me, darlin’,” the man moaned, his voice deep and drawling. The old fat ass sounded hungry. He licked his thick lips, then let out a long, wet belch that made Kyle's ears ring.

Kyle recoiled, his stomach feeling uneasy with disgust and confusion. “The hell is this?” His finger reached for the power button. The last thing he wanted was to watch anymore of this weird shit!

ZAP.

A jolt of electricity surged through his body as quickly as his fingertip pressed down on the key. He yelped, but the sound lodged itself in his throat as his muscles locked in place, heat blooming in his chest, his toned core tightening like a retreating wave — then swelling like a full force tsunami.

A deep, gurgling sound roared from his swelling stomach.

Kyle gasped as his once-taut abs pushed outward with lard, the definition he worked so hard for vanishing beneath thickening fat. As he grew, his skin became stretched and sore. His tight shirt became strained from the sheer size of his torso, the fabric clinging to his skin as his belly inflated like a rising dough ball. His whole body quivered, muscles going soft and untrained. Fat piled onto his frame like an avalanche.

His pecs sagged into heavy moobs, a thick carpet of distinctly gray hair erupting across his much larger chest. His arms thickened into fat, useless slabs of meat. Then his fat, dimpled thighs bulged apart, forcing him into a wide, helpless sprawl. He hated it, but he could feel his once proud 8 incher shrink into a numb as his groin became swallowed beneath a hairy, musky fat pad.

Kyle's once handsome face rounded, his jawline vanishing beneath a sagging double chin.

The changes came faster. His smooth, youthful skin wrinkled, years of age marching across his face in mere seconds. His styled, dirty blonde hair lightened, thinned, then started to turn as gray as his chest hairs. Greasy strands fell from his scalp as what remained of his hair formed a horseshoe around his head. His body odor shifted, his designer cologne replaced by sour sweat, musk, and the lingering stench of beer and fast food.

Kyle wheezed, his massive gut surging forward, spilling over his waistband and pressing against the desk that housed Aaron's laptop. His sausage fingers sank into the heavy, warm blubber, and an indecent moan slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

BUUUUUURP.

A deep, thundering belch erupted from his drooling mouth, spraying spit all over the laptop screen. His massive, clearly obese belly heaved, wobbling with the force of the expulsion. His thick fingers twitched, rubbing slow, indulgent circles over his bloated gut. It was like he was forced to act out the pervy video he watched.

And it felt… so good.

Kyle’s mind screamed that this was wrong, that he should fight this, but God, the warmth of his fat belly, the satisfaction of a good belch pushing hot gas out of his bloated body, the sensation of his jiggling, hairy gut jutting out in front of him —it was pure bliss.

The door creaked open.

Kyle turned his nearly bald, sweat-dampened head just as Aaron stepped inside. The young man's beady, piggish eyes widened behind his thick glasses, then his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Well, well,” Aaron murmured in self satisfaction and a mix of lust, stepping closer. His gaze raked over Kyle’s massive, inflated frame, lingering on his thick, graying chest hair, his sweat-slicked moobs, and the way his huge gut surged over his lap.

Kyle huffed, another lazy burp slipping from his lips as he rubbed slow, eager circles into his belly.

Aaron’s voice dropped, teasing and eager. “Guess ya finally found my collection, huh?”

Kyle whimpered at the tone, his fat, old man body trembling at Aaron’s attention. He should’ve been angry. He should’ve fought. But when Aaron reached into his bookbag and pulled out a greasy fast-food bag, the overwhelming aroma of burgers and fries filled the air —and Kyle’s fat gut growled in need.

Aaron chuckled, cupping his unimpressive bulge with his free hand and starting to rub. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s make my dream daddy even fatter.”

Kyle licked his lips hungrily. The last of his old self melted away and was blasted out of his ass as he let rip a droning, reeking fart. He leaned forward to reach for both his meal and his ideal lover, gut slapping against his thighs.

After all… what else was a greedy, gainer addicted, perverted old man supposed to do?

[gottagetpig]

God i was soo hungry and i just couldnt help myself, i just had to stuff myself eith as much food as my chubby piggy body could handle hehe. The feeling of pigging out n getting fatter is just so addicting...i just cant stop myself from falling to my gluttonous desires and flabby desires...

I can feel my frame swell up little by little each day as my body grows steadily with soft lard just begging to be squeezed and played with... My fat belly getting more and more soft just like my cute plump thighs and squishy ass bot to mention my plump suckable moobs... I may have made a resolution to get fatter but i know I'll gett fatter no matter what... Just like a hood fatass should...

Fatty new year to all ya fattys and chubby chasers hehe

[toptierteaser]

The Vicious Cycle of being a Fatty

Your weight-gain is like a self-sustaining curse.

You eat, filling your mouth, your insatiable belly, feeding yourself everything your piggish little taste buds desire.

Then you grow. Your fat accumulates on your pudgy stomach. Rolls start to form on your juicy sides. You start to get love handles, your ass blimps up, your thighs start to blubber. Even your moobs and your face and your hand betray you, showing off your newfound fattiness and greed!

Then it starts to get uncomfortable! It's not like you CAN'T waddle off to the gym and work out…you're not THAT fat…at least, not yet. But it's getting uncomfortable.

It's embarrassing. Being slower than the other guys. Your fat ass jiggling in your shorts. Having to constantly pick a wedgie as your undies disappear between your thick, caked up cheeks. Constantly needing to shift your short to cover your tubbing belly!

But beyond that, you've started to notice a change. You're getting out of breath more easily. It didn't even take that much FAT! You just noticed you were panting, that it was hard to catch your breath! Your thighs rub, now! They chafe and fight for space! Your belly has begun to quiver when you waddle--god, you WADDLE, now to keep your thighs from rubbing!

Still, you hit the gym and you try to work off the fat…

But you can't stop eating. You can't stop stuffing yourself. And it's the KNOWING that you're not so far gone…it's the KNOWING that you haven't blimped up beyond all hope…that's what makes it impossible to shave off the weight for good! The food is just TOO delicious! And the weight isn't even BAD enough yet…not until it is…

And when you finally realize how far you've let yourself go…when you finally realize what you have DONE…when you finally realize what a piglet you've made of yourself…there's nothing you can do about it anymore!

Sure, you could work off some of the pudge. It wouldn't be all THAT hard. But it would take a LOT longer now that you realize how fat you've swelled! You can't just hit the treadmill a few times, fatboy. You have to actually commit! And committing to anything--besides STUFFING your lazy, pudging body on a daily basis--is not exactly in your forte! You're a FATBOY through and through! And because it's so much easier for you to just sit there, on your plumped-up fat ass! Becuase it's so much easier just to EAT to your heart's content, than to actually get up off your lazy, blimping ass and go for a jog every once in a while…well, that's exactly what you do! You just eat and eat and eat! You blubber and balloon! And you fill up even more, stretching your stomach and getting hungrier as you get greedier as you get fatter as you get lazier!

It's a vicious cycle, fatboy, and one you just keep eating yourself further--and fatter--into!

[bigification]

Sculptor

You're an artist exploring his canvas. With your lips locked, your hands wander from his perky ass, up his defined six pack to his juicy pecs, then to his razor sharp jaw. What a fine canvas to work with, a beautiful man with skin as smooth as a baby and a body akin to a Greek god.

You begin as you always do, with the face. You run your fingers run along his cheeks, making them swell. Your fingers brush across his jawline, softening it until it is no longer visible and leaving behind a double chin. You can feel hairs grow on his face, as his once clean shaven face grows a scruffy beard.

Your work on his face is nearly complete, leaving him unrecognizable from the man he was before. You can feel the fat in his cheeks and his chin as you make out. But this is only the beginning of your process. Next, your hands glide down to his shoulders, broadening them in the process. Then down to his arms, where you cover them in a thick layer of fat, making them look strong, yet soft. You then hold his hands in yours, making them grow until they look like stuffed sausages.

Your lips leave his and wander down his fattened neck and to his chest. His pecs swell as you kiss them, grow softer and softer as they sag under their own weight. Soon he's left with a pair of soft moobs with large nipples and a forest of hair covering them.

He seems too distracted to notice the manipulation of his body, so you move down to his stomach. You kiss his defined six pack, getting one last taste before changing them forever. His stomach quickly swells under the influence of your touch. It starts as a small belly, then it becomes a reasonable beer belly, before becoming the massive ball belly of an obese man. The hairy gut now hangs over his jockstrap, obscuring his lower body from his view. Your hands wrap around his side toward his back, growing thick love handles in the process. Your hands finally reach his ass, once light and perky, it now sagged under its immense weight and threatened to burst through his tiny jockstrap.

You fall to your knees, lift up his gut, and pull down his jock. His dick has almost completely been engulfed by his fat pad, but it's enough to work with. You take him into your mouth. You feel his once modest cock begin to grow, multiplying in size in the matter of seconds. You struggle to keep the nearly pop can sized dick in your mouth until you feel a warm liquid coat the back of your throat.

He may be done, but your job is not over. Your hands rub his thighs, making them fatten and fatten. His muscly thighs got covered in a thick layer of fat, making him have to spread them to avoid them rubbing together. His calves meet a similar fate as you move to his feet, making them grow at least six sizes.

You look up at your finished artwork, proud of what you've accomplished. Some may have said he was more beautiful before, but you disagree. You hold his gut in your hands and give it a kiss, ready to move on to your next canvas.

[theother456-stories]

It was supposed to be a quirky little demonstration, an amusing way to get students engaged with the concept of perception and satiety. That’s how Professor Silas Verdant had sold it: “Just a simple visual aid. Educational. Memorable.”

The university lecture hall had been modified slightly, with a scale platform wheeled onto the stage, a couple of food carts tucked off to the side, and a projector screen above bearing the title: “All You Can Eat: Opinion vs. Reality.”

At center stage sat Micah, a bright-eyed volunteer with a cocky grin and a growling stomach, reclining lazily in a reinforced chair. He wasn’t huge, not yet, lean-ish with some softness, the kind of guy who’d gladly put away a few extra burgers at a BBQ. His enthusiasm was part of what got him picked for this “experiment.”

Professor Silas, in his usual outrageous bowtie and long coat, addressed the class like a magician about to perform a trick. “Today, we’ll explore a deceptively simple phrase. What people think ‘all you can eat’ means…” He gestured toward a modest tray of food placed on Micah’s lap. “And what it actually means.”

Micah grinned as he devoured the tray,one burger, some fries, a soda, a slice of cheesecake. He wiped his hands and let out a satisfied sigh. “That was solid,” he said, patting a belly that had only barely puffed out. “I could totally eat more.”

The scale ticked upward from 170 pounds to 180.

Silas clapped, triumphant. “Behold the opinion of ‘all you can eat.’ A modest meal. A small gain. Now…”

A low mechanical whirr filled the hall. A wall slid open, revealing a massive machine covered in tubes, tanks, and pressure gauges, humming ominously. Silas beamed as several hoses slithered down from overhead, thick and coiled like feeding serpents.

“Let’s test reality.”

Before Micah could respond, Silas had fitted a funnel to his mouth. A hose connected to a vat of thick, creamy, high-calorie sludge. With a flick of a switch, the pump hissed to life, and Micah began to swallow.

The effect was immediate.

His belly swelled outward with every gulp. At first, it was amusing a food baby expanding beneath his shirt. But within minutes, buttons flew, seams split, and his thighs began to spread wider beneath him. The chair creaked dangerously.

“Two hundred… two-fifty…” Leo, Silas’s assistant, called out numbers as the scale climbed.

Micah moaned, overwhelmed but euphoric, eyes half-lidded as the machine continued. His stomach inflated like a balloon, surging forward over his lap, sides thickening, arms softening. He passed 400 pounds, then 600. The chair gave up, replaced mid-feeding with a padded platform that groaned beneath his growing bulk.

By 900 pounds, Micah was unrecognizable. A human mountain of flesh, bloated and wobbling, belly gurgling constantly. His arms rested uselessly at his sides, barely visible under rolls of plush fat. His moobs rose and jiggled with each heavy breath. His face was puffed and pink, framed by layers of cheek and neck. And still, he drank.

The machine whirred on. 1,100 pounds. 1,200. His belly spilled over the edges of the platform, dragging against the floor. Micah moaned through the funnel, “Still… not… dessert…”

Silas’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I planned for dessert.”

By the time the machine stopped, the final weight glowed on the scale: 1,380 pounds. Micah was a round, panting monument to excess, helpless in his own softness, belly shaking with aftershocks from the final pumps.

Silas addressed the stunned auditorium, arms wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the reality of ‘All You Can eat.”