#wg fic

[sugar-softies]

It had all started the day Noah accidentally shrank Theo’s gym clothes in the wash.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll just skip today.” Theo stretched and yawned. 

“Fuck, are you sure?” Noah bit his lip. “I could run out and get you some shorts or something from Wal-mart?”

“It’s my fault for only having the one set anyway,” Theo said. “Besides, I’ve been tired lately. Maybe this is just the rest day I needed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Noah still looked upset with himself until Theo cupped his cheek in one hand and pulled him in to kiss his forehead. 

It hadn’t seemed like much, one little mishap with the laundry and Theo deciding to take a day off. Of course, then he forgot to go buy new gym clothes the next day, and he felt like relaxing again the day after that, and the day after that, and then forgot again…

Noah would have been beating himself up if Theo didn’t seem to be enjoying his rest. His boyfriend used to spend hours keeping busy: working out at the gym, walking their dog, doing chores around the house, not to mention the insane hours he put in at his job. Most nights he’d collapse into bed exhausted, but cutting the gym out of the mix had given him a little more time to sleep in and have energy for the day.

“It’s weird having you here for dinner…” Noah chuckled as he filled Theo’s plate.

“Is it?” Theo frowned. “That… can’t feel good. I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s fine, I know you’re busy.” Noah slid into Theo’s lap and kissed his cheek. “Still nice to have you here now though.”

“I’ll try to come home a little earlier.” Noah took a bite and groaned happily. “Especially now that I know I’ve been missing out on your cooking this whole time! Did you go to culinary school in secret or something?”

Noah laughed and blushed, cuddling close and shaking his head. 

As promised, Theo started cutting back on the work hours too, coming home earlier instead of sticking around to cover for others and please a demanding manager. 

… then he started going in later too.

And calling out.

“Didn’t you have work today?” Noah slipped on his shoes while their excitable dog, Cakepop, jumped excitedly at the sight of his leash.

“I called out sick.” Theo paused his game to give Noah his full attention, setting the controller aside so he could open a bag of chips. “Last night was really rough and when I woke up I just didn’t really have it in me to go in. Thought I might cry honestly.”

“Oh…” Noah’s heart clenched with concern. “Well, I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to do all day,” Theo admitted. “I mean, there’s some chores to catch up on but those shouldn’t take long.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something, you always do.” Noah kissed his forehead before heading out with Cakepop.

When he came home some twenty minutes later, Theo was still gaming. 

He kept gaming through lunch, and through dinner, though he didn’t miss out on Noah’s cooking since he brought the meals out to him. 

Noah curled up against Theo happily with a pint of ice cream, watching him clear another level. His heart fluttered as he realized Theo had never gotten dressed today, and was still in pjs. It felt nice knowing his overworked partner had gotten to relax today. 

“Dessert?” he offered, showing Theo two plastic spoons. 

“Ahhh-” Theo playfully opened his mouth so he didn’t have to put his controller down, and Noah laughed and fed him a spoonful. 

That’s when it really started.

Because, Noah noticed that Theo’s shirt was hugging his middle a little tighter than normal, and he’d been real careful with the laundry ever since the gym clothes incident (hey, had Theo ever gotten new gym clothes?) so he knew it hadn’t shrunk. 

When he thought about it, Theo hadn’t been nearly as active as usual lately, and he’d actually been around for meals. Noah’s cheeks warmed as he realized he really liked the idea of this trend continuing, and he scooped another spoonful of ice cream and offered it to Theo.

He kept going, curious to see if Theo would ever ask him to stop, his heart pounding harder and harder as he saw more and more of the bottom of the container. Eventually he’d scraped the sides for all they were worth and Theo was leaning back with his feet on the table, his stomach obviously rounded out.

Theo burped. “Whoa, ‘scuse me. Think I overdid it on the dessert.”

“... I don’t think you did.” Noah reached out hesitantly and began to rub Theo’s stomach. “I think… you could even have a little more…”

And that brought them to today.

Noah hummed happily as he flipped another pancake onto the stack, filling up a plate and drowning it with syrup before putting it onto a breakfast tray. 

Then he put the breakfast tray onto a cart that already had three similar breakfast trays on it, all of them full to the brim. 

It was really well past noon, but Theo liked to sleep in. They’d both realized it pretty quickly when they started indulging his restful side. Noah had brought home some memory foam pillows and a new comforter and Theo had kissed him silly for it. 

Theo was currently cuddled up to those pillows as Noah rolled in the cart, but thanks to the hot weather the blanket was pushed down by his feet, giving Noah the perfect view of Theo’s body.

What had once been toned arms were now round with dimples at the elbow and wrists, pecs had become breasts about as big as Noah’s head, near abs had become a whale of a gut that looked beautiful resting on the mattress as Theo slept on his side. 

Noah bit his lip as he took a moment to admire him before grabbing a muffin and waving it under Theo’s nose.

Theo gave a bit of a snort as he woke, smiling sleepily as he recognized the smell and immediately opening his mouth.

“Good morning.” Noah fed him the muffin, marveling at how quickly it vanished. “Bed day or up day?”

“Bed day for sure,” Theo purred as he stretched luxuriously, already opening his mouth for more. 

Noah giggled and took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping the cart close so he could steadily feed Theo until every crumb was gone. 

“Remember when you first got a little chubby and I called you my teddy bear?” he rubbed Theo’s swollen belly with both hands. “You’re more like one of those grizzly bears now.”

“Oh, like the ones on twitter? The fattest bear competition?” Theo laughed. “Man… that’s the life. Just worrying about getting fat and sleeping all winter…”

“You say that like that isn’t your life now,” Noah teased.

“Heh, true.” Theo started playing with his belly, admiring his fat rolls. 

“Time for shake?” Noah asked excitedly. 

“No time to digest even?” Theo pretended to complain. 

“The more we stretch your stomach the more food you can eat later,” Noah reminded him in a sultry tone.

“Alright, guess I’ll buckle up and try then.” Theo tried to take a deep breath, his full belly already weighing heavily on his lungs.

One day, for some reason, Noah found himself making the weight gain shake first. 

He wasn’t sure why he started it before breakfast, but figured he might as well give it to Theo first so he could sleep it off and wake up with more room for food. He knew that as much as he liked filling up, he also liked being able to enjoy the taste of food, and that could be hard to do when all you could think about is how full you are. 

He grabbed the funnel and headed back to their bedroom, and seeing Theo asleep on the bed he suddenly remembered why he’d been so eager to do the shake first.

“Sleep feeding?” Noah laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Theo chuckled. “It’s just smut, but it’s pretty hot still.”

“It is…” Noah must have been eyeing Theo hungrily because Theo grinned and nodded.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, I do like my sleep..”

Noah eyed his boyfriend’s stomach as it rose and fell with breath. He gulped as he brought the tube over to Theo’s mouth. 

He had to be careful, he didn’t want him to accidentally choke or anything, or get the bed messy. Of course, in the end, he didn’t have either of those problems, because as soon as the tube hit Theo’s mouth, Theo’s mouth clasped around it and he started sucking. 

“Oh man-” Noah turned bright red, and quickly started pouring shake into the funnel. 

He lost track of how many times he filled that funnel, all he knew is that Theo kept sucking it down greedily. His knees were going weak from the sight of it, and he felt honestly so happy that he was able to give his boyfriend the ultimate restful experience. 

“You never have to leave this bed again, I swear,” he whimpered, which seemed to make Theo stir.

Theo’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a second there was confusion in his eyes, then a wince, then he looked over to Noah and smiled, a little bit of shake leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Theo only paused in his gulping as he rocked side to side, eventually managing to flop onto one side, and then onto his hands and knees. His stomach was pushing his arms and legs apart and weighed heavily on the bed, it was clear he was having trouble holding himself up but he still lifted a hand to grab the feeding tube and keep it in place as he started gulping shake down twice as fast. 

“You’re doing such a good job,” Noah gasped out praise. “You’re going to get so big… fuck you’re going to get enormous. You already are enormous! I can’t even remember the last time you got dressed, we probably don’t even have anything that fits you anymore. Keep going.”

He went until he ran out of shake, and had to stifle a moan as Theo kept sucking hard on the tube anyway, looking like he was in a sort of trance. 

It took Theo a second to realize there wasn’t anymore shake coming his way, but once he did he let his arm quickly fall to help support himself and gasped, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“God I feel like a hog,” he wheezed out around a burp. “Dunno if I can even…” he wiggled side to side again, hands and knees moving centimeters closer to the edge of the bed before his arms gave out and he simply flopped onto his belly. “Yeah, I think m’stuck here until I digest… that was so good.”

Noah immediately crawled into bed with him, excited by how little space was left for him. “You should get some more sleep,” he decided.

“Yeah? That’s really okay?” Theo yawned. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“I need you to rest, and be ready for round two.” Noah sucked a breath in through his teeth and grabbed a rough handful of Theo’s belly. “And round three, and four, and five.”

[tanuki-voice]

Your body ballooned when you gave in to eating junk. There was nothing like the feeling of being stuffed, feeling the sugars and saturated fats crawling through your veins. You loved it, were given over to it, totally addicted. In the end, the thing that broke down your inhibitions wasn't their relentless advertising, or even the clever marketing. It was the coupons.

It began simply: you would come home from work tired and hungry, and order fast food. To expedite the process, you'd downloaded all the value apps for the places in your area. The promises of free stuff and quicker ordering was too good to pass up. However, you'd forgotten to turn off notifications.

Every so often, your phone would ding with a new deal, a temptation, a siren's call to get you to order in exchange for deep discounts. In the beginning, these were free fries, an upgrade to a larger soda, a cheaper sandwich. All the same, on those late nights, it sounded good. Why not treat yourself once in a while?

Of course, soon, "once in a while" turned into "every few days", then "every other day", until you found yourself becoming slowly dependent on the offers, a bit of elation from every little perk. The more you ordered, the more their algorithm could read you, serving you exactly what you desired, calling you each day at the proper time. As if trained, you would feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mouth would begin to water. It was time to order.

The algorithm, of course, was not entirely in tune with your identity. It was a being designed to generate profit. By ordering so much, so often, you had managed to convince it you were a large household, and it reacted accordingly. The deals changed to suit this belief, family size meals, multi-packs, pastries by the dozen. You ordered them all, gorging yourself without end to fuel your ravenous appetite.

What began as a dinner routine extended to other meals, and soon after that you'd even find yourself going through the drive-thru for a quick snack between meals. To live in such gluttony, messily pigging out without end, shoveling food into your mouth day after day, brought you such pleasure. You found yourself going back, again and again, every day, consumed by the desire for more. Tonight was no different.

Reclined into your sofa, you awoke from a potent carb nap. Your lunch, two large pizzas, half a dozen donuts, an order of chicken wings, and a 40oz soda, had truly taken it out of you. Your enormous belly strained your comfy pajama pants, barely covered by an extra large t-shirt. Your hands comfortably rested on its pillowy softness. Through the mountains of squishy fat, you felt it rumble. It was time for dinner. And right on schedule, your phone buzzed.

With potent glee you snatched it up. Today, if you ordered in the next hour, you could get a meal for four, burgers, onion rings and milkshakes. The kicker: order now and get two more burgers free. Your payment details had never danced across the screen faster, and thirty minutes later three greasy bags full of food were dropped off judgement-free at your door.

You brought them back to the sofa and began to chow down. It had become tradition for you to eat without a shirt on by now; your meals had long since become too indecent to go without dirtying your clothes. Your tummy bared to the world, you picked up a burger in one hand and a fistful of onion rings in the other, and devoured. Like an animal you ate primally, as if starved, not knowing when your next meal may come. There was no one to tell you you couldn't, only you demanding that you would. Each mouthful was calorie rich, and each was washed down with more food, more milkshake, more trash.

You spared one of your grease covered hands to rub your stretch mark covered stomach. As you teased gassy burps and wind breaks from your middle, it growled, pleased, yet still expectant. Rarely was it ever satisfied. No matter how much you stuffed into it, it wanted more. It commanded you to fill yourself, to bring yourself to the brink, feeling as if you would pop. Your appetite controlled you, but under its warm, pleasant, hazy influence, you were happy to be its willing pawn.

The joy of feeding took priority over anything else. You felt like you could eat forever. Your body would adapt to the gluttonous demon you had become, one whose mind lived in its stomach. To eat was so simple, so thoughtless, mindless. You just let your belly think for you as you ordered, and let it bring you to pleasurable, mind-clearing bliss. Your body, particularly your ample midsection, was a temple, a testament to the food gods you worshipped. You loved to see it grow, to see it flow over you, to see it bulge, swell and fill your chairs and mattresses.

A loud belch stirred you from your enraptured state for just a moment to see that you'd gone through a majority of your offerings. There was a slight sting as you realized your feeding was nearing its end. Suddenly, without thinking, your hand reached for your phone again. Your stomach rumbled. It wouldn't be satisfied with just this, but would you really go over that line? Ordering even more, without thinking? Was this who you had become?

A notification dinged. If you ordered in the next thirty minutes, you could get a dozen eclairs for half price. Your bloated belly purred. Maybe it was who you'd become, and maybe you weren't ashamed of it. You had been, at one point, but that reluctance had faded. This was who you were, an insatiably hungry animal given over to your muses, and you loved every second of it. Dessert wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, maybe, even a little after that. You smiled and confirmed your delivery. You had a long, gluttonous night ahead of you, and you were raring to get started.

[secretbigboylover]

Buffet Date

CW: Weight gain, rapid weight gain, teasing.

Trevor was trying to ignore how full his belly was and how good it felt. His big belly spilled over his lap and pushed his favorite button up shirt to its limit. It was a sky-blue shirt with yellow rubber duckies dotted all around it. His boyfriend, Max, had picked it out as a gift when they first moved in together. The same Max that confided in him that he liked his men chunky, the same Max that kept buying Trevor’s favorite snacks even though Trevor was on a diet. The same Max that innocently suggested a buffet for their date night.

Trevor knew he’d over eat, but couldn’t help himself and he was sure Max did too. The food just smelled amazing. There were so many options from pizza to pasta, stakes to hotdogs, every fried savory food he could think of, and the desserts were so mouthwatering. Trevor didn’t used to be a big guy, but boy did he have a big appetite. He had played football in high school and in college. Trevor had a wide build that made him the first pick on any team. He even had the good looks to make any man swoon or at least he used to. Now, thanks in part to dating Max, Trevor felt he had lost some of that. He was still broad and tried to be athletic, but had started developing a bit of a gut. Sure, some of his gym buddies when through bulking phases and got a bit chunky before getting ripped, but Trevor didn’t do any body building stuff. He liked to keep a lean muscle look. Now staring at an orb of a gut he groaned. He was so full and the food was so good. Rubbing his taught stomach only showed just how much of a pig he made of himself, but it also felt good. He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of Trevor really liked this feeling of being over stuffed. It was a good excuse to let Max dote on him while he just digested. He knew he should be more active, but Max always looked so happy when Trevor ate too much. Maybe it was time to give in? That though vanished when he looked down at the sad state of his favorite shirt.

The day he had gotten the shirt Max had taken him on a magical date to the winter fare. They had gone ice-skating, Trevor had tried to win Max a stuffed animal, they had hot chocolate, and road the Faris wheel. They had stopped by a little boutique before going home. It was filled with all kinds of crazy and goofy shirts. When Trevor saw the rubber ducky shirt he fell in love and he was over joyed when Max bought it for him. They took it home right away. Trevor was so swept up by how cute it was that he didn’t realize it was a size too big. Max had ensured him that he still looked cute in it and the bigger size only gave him room to grow.

Now diamonds of doughy flesh poked between the buttons. Trevor leaned back and stroke his belly. He couldn’t imagen taking another bite. He had already stuffed himself with four full plates. Trevor vowed this would be the last buffet date for the year. He would get back on his fitness grind and fit back into his favorite shirt. Once Max came back, he would tell him his master plan about getting his summer beach bod ready.

Max came back with three plates, one with a few slices of pizza, one with a slice of cheesecake, and the other stacked with two slices of strawberry cheesecake and warm brownies.

          “Sorry for the wait. I heard they were bringing out a fresh batch of brownies and I know how you love them.” Max said.

Trevor completely forgot about his aching belly the second he smelled the brownies. They were so rich. He could smell the semi-sweet chocolate and could almost taste it. His summer body forgotten he chowed down on the brownies. They were even better than he imagined. So dark and rich, with the perfect smooth fudge texture. They practically melted in his mouth. Trevor inhaled the last few and the cheesecake. Without a second thought he got up and raced towards the brownie station.

They had set out two massive sheets, still steaming. Like a child possessed, he quickly loaded his plate high with brownies. As he walked back to his table he had to peak over the mountain of brownies and had missed Max’s massive grin. Max was full on laughing by the time Trevor came back to the table.

“What, did I take too many?” Trevor said.

“No baby, your shirt.” Max said as he tried, and failed, to keep in his laughter.

Trevor looked down and saw two buttons in the middle of his shirt had popped off, his soft belly exposed to the air. He turned the deepest shade of crimson and hid behind his tower of brownies.

“Aw baby, no need to be embarrassed. I think you look very sexy with that soft belly.” Max said.

“Then why were you laughing?” Treavor said.

“Because I got an email that your new shirt had arrived.” Max said.

This did not quite answer Trevor’s confusion and Max recognized that and continued.

“I know how much you love that shirt and I know it has been fitting a little snug recently. So, I found out that store had a webpage and, on a whim, bought it the next size up. I’m just laughing because right as I got the email your buttons flew off.” Max said.

Trevor was still embarrassed but touched. He looked down at the plate and a had a wicked idea.

“Well let’s see if you can pop the rest of my button’s off.” Trevor said.

Now it was Max’s turn to be flustered.

“Wait what?” Max said.

Trevor wasn’t sure what came over him. He still wanted his lean summer bod, but loved seeming Max flustered and new this would do the trick.

“Yea, just feed me till I pop.” Trevor said as he pushed the plate of brownies towards Max.

Still flustered, but now definitely horny, Max picked up a brownie and popped it in Trevor’s mouth. Instantly Trevor was in heaven. The brownie was still as good, but the extra edge of having his sexy boyfriend feed them too him was doing wonders. Trevor knew in that moment his new shirt wouldn’t last very long.

[charliegyrth]

I Really Want You to Like Me

A Gay Gainer Romance

When you walk into our dorm room freshman year, my first thought is: “Holy crap! My new roommate is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

You know how you look, so I don’t need to describe your tall, muscular body. Your perfect ass. Your wide shoulders and thin waist.

My second thought is: “I really hope you like me.”

Back in high school, I was the life of every party. The funny, fat guy. It was so easy for me to make friends, but since I started college, it’s been a little harder for me to meet people. Three weeks into the semester and I haven’t made a single connection.

And now here you are, my new roommate. And you’re so freaking cool. I just really want to make a good impression.

Unfortunately, I don’t. You just see me as a fat slob. You grimace at the fast-food trash on my side of the dorm. You glance down at the ketchup stain on my shirt. You act nice, and you force a smile, but I know right away that you don’t like me.

For the next few weeks, we barely see each other. You go out partying most nights and don’t really acknowledge me when you stumble into the room. You spend your free time playing football or basketball with your jock friends while I’m here playing video games.

You’re not rude or anything, but it’s obvious that we’re just different people.

We don’t have our first real conversation until we run into each other at some frat party. You’re drunk. I’m drunk. You compliment me on how much beer I can put away. And I say, “Back at ya.” For someone with such a flat stomach, it’s pretty impressive how much you can chug.

We sort of bond at the party, and when things start to die down, we walk home together.

I really want to keep our conversation going, so I offer to cook us some pasta to fight off the next morning’s hangover. It’s nothing special, just ramen that I jazz up with a bunch of butter and other ingredients.

You freaking love it.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a real cook, man?”

Because I’m not. You just like it because you’re drunk.

Whatever. We eat together and, for the first time, you ask about the video games that I’m always playing. You’ve never really played video games before. (Too busy playing sports.) I show you my collection of retro games from the 80s and 90s. Those are my favorite.

We try playing a few together, and you’re absolutely terrible. But it’s fun to watch. You’re having fun, too.

We really bond over this super-old game called BurgerTime, where we play as these little chefs that have to assemble burgers while running away from evil hot dogs. It’s really basic (just running across platforms), but I think that’s why you like it. You’re actually kind of good at this one.

We end up playing all night, making video game burgers and snacking on some of my potato chips. “Dude, this is great!” you say.

And it really is.

Things go back to normal after that. You go back to hanging out with your jock friends. You don’t avoid me as much as before, but I still don’t see you a lot.

Then Saturday rolls around, and you join me on the couch. “Rematch?” you ask. You were supposed to meet your friends for a basketball game, but you decide to spend time with me instead.

I’m so flattered that I keep letting you win. And I keep bringing out more of my snacks just to make you happy. When you’re gaming, you don’t notice how much you can put away. I’m impressed.

Hours later, you beat my high score and we’ve eaten literally everything in the dorm.

You turn to me smiling. “You’re a bad influence, man.”

That’s the moment I know that you finally like me.

That evening, I go to the supermarket to restock on snacks. I mostly get stuff that you prefer (salt and vinegar potato chips and anything with dark chocolate). I spend a little too much (okay, a lot too much), but I just really want to keep hanging out with you.

And it works. Throughout the rest of the semester, you spend more time with me and less time with your jock friends. Pretty soon, the messiness from my side of the dorm has spread to your side, too. It doesn’t take long for you to start snacking as much as I do. And sometimes, you stay in playing games even when I’m not home.

Then one day, you trudge into the dorm looking really upset. You were just playing basketball with your old buddies, and you didn’t have fun. You’ve lost some of your skill and the guys full-on insulted you.

I’m not surprised. I can see how your body is chunking out a little. Your thin waist isn’t so thin anymore, and your chest looks softer. But the big difference is in how you move. You used to move like an athlete with constant energy. Now, you’re getting kind of sluggish. Like me.

For a second, I get worried that you’re going to stop hanging out with me. That you’ll go back to the gym and force yourself to get back into shape.

Instead, you say, “Screw ’em. If they’re gonna be dicks, I don’t wanna play with them anymore.” Then you plop onto the couch and turn on BurgerTime.

You’ve made your choice, and I’m so freaking happy.

After that, we snack and game every day. We go to parties sometimes, too. Always together. (As friends, of course.)

By the end of that month, you’ve outgrown all your pants. They were always a little tight on you (to accentuate your ass, I’m assuming), but now you can’t pull them past your thick thighs.

“Dude!” you call from the living room, sounding frustrated.

I race in to find you standing in the middle of the room. You have a loose shirt on, but your pants are crumpled on the floor. You have white underwear to cover your crotch, but even those are tight enough to make your leg fat bulge out from under the bottom edges. I’ve never seen your bare thighs before, and I’m shocked by how shapeless they’ve already gotten. While your arms still have their muscular base, your legs look much softer.

No cellulite yet, though.

You look up at me with desperation in your blue eyes. “I can’t go to class without pants.” I know you’re asking me to loan you my clothes, but you’re too embarrassed to say it.

“Well, I definitely have some pants that I’m way too fat for. They should fit you just fine.” I run back into my room and pull out three shorts and two pairs of jeans. They’re not too small for me, of course. That was a lie to make you feel better. (Why would someone bring clothes to college that they can’t wear?)

I hand them to you, and you look so freaking grateful. “Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll give them back once I…”

“Keep ’em. I’ll never fit in those again.” (Another lie. In fact, the jeans you’re pulling on right now are actually a little baggy on me, though they fit you surprisingly well.)

It’s crazy that I’m so much bigger than you, and yet your hips are already as wide as mine. The miracle of fat distribution, I guess.

You spin around to model the new pants. “These look okay? I don’t look too chubby?”

You're a bit past chubby now, but I don’t say that. Instead, I assure you, “Everyone gains a bit in college. But trust me, you’ll never get as big as me.” That’s probably the truth.

You seem reassured. You strut out of the room with confidence.

The next week is finals. We stop gaming to focus all our time on studying. The snacking doesn’t stop. At first, I thought I was a bad influence on you. But I realize that you’re actually eating more potato chips and cookies than me, and I’m the one trying to keep up.

We both ace our classes. On our last night before Christmas break, we celebrate at the buffet just off campus. I absolutely stuff myself (as always), but you outdo me by at least a plate and a half. I have never been out-eaten at a buffet before. It’s impressive. (And honestly, I’m a little jealous.)

We both go back home for the holidays. We text each other a lot. You even video-call me so I can meet your parents. They seem super-nice.

My parents are a little upset with me. I’ve been fat all my life, so that’s not a big deal to them. But the amount I’d gained in one semester of college has freaked them out a little. I didn’t even realize I was fatter! I was too focused on your growing belly and hips. And I know that it’s because of you, because it’s so much fun to eat snacks together. I started as the bad influence, but you’ve taken over the role.

I don’t really overdo it over the holidays. I refrain from my mom’s cookies and stop myself from going back for seconds. I don’t lose any weight over the vacation, but I don’t gain anything either.

When I get back to campus, I realize that your vacation was a bit different. Your ass has definitely grown. And the fat has finally reached your face. You’re actually getting a double chin now. You’re still in much better shape than me, but I’m not sure how long that’ll last.

“How was your holiday?” you ask. You sound so excited to see me.

“Great. And yours?”

“So much fun,” you say. Then you tell me about all the food you ate. It’s like you’re bragging. You don’t mention sports at all.

Then you do something that surprises me. You wrap me in a hug, making me feel your belly against mine, and you say, “I really missed you, man.”

This isn’t a friendly hug. It’s something more.

I look into your eyes. I don’t want to read too much into this. But the way you’re looking at me… I know that I’m not. I know that you want me.

So I kiss you.

And I feel your new body, squeezing into the fat on your sides.

You feel me, too. We’re exploring each other’s bodies, giving in to the sexual tension that had been building all semester. And when you take me to your bed, when you strip off your new shirt, I can see that you’re even fatter than I realized.

You're on top of you, letting me play with your soft pecs, feeling me stiffen under you, and I ask you, “Are you trying to get fat?”

There’s no shame or embarrassment on your face as you look me right in the eyes and say, “Yes.”

“Why?”

You sigh. “I like you, man. I like spending time with you so much more than my old friends. And I just… I don’t know. I wanted to catch up. I wanted you to like me.”

I can’t believe it. I thought you were gaining because I was rubbing off on you. I didn’t realize that this was a conscious choice, that you chose to get fat because of me.

I jiggle your chest. “And you like… being like this?”

“No,” you say. Then you grab my moobs (so much bigger and softer than yours) and say, “Like I told you, I want to catch up.”

This is the first time we have sex. You’re incredible. You know exactly how to touch me, guide me, control me. You’re so strong. And so heavy. You make me feel your heft.

And now, three years later, so much has changed. We’re engaged now. We live in an apartment off-campus. We’re weeks away from graduating.

And you’ve gotten so, so much bigger than me.

I’m still obese, though significantly smaller than I was freshman year. This wasn’t a conscious choice. It just happened over the years, as I focused more of my attention on keeping you fed. It’s a little weird to be the smaller guy in the relationship, even if no one would ever call me small.

But you… My God. You’ve grown into such a beautiful, massive ball of flab. The first two years of your gains were very leg- and ass-centric. You were always meant to be much more pear-shaped than me, and I loved seeing your thighs stretch and dimple, your ass expand and droop.

But this last year, your belly has more than caught up. It’s so much bigger than mine ever was. Saggier, too.

When people see the two of us side-by-side, they’d probably assume I was the ex-jock instead of you. My fat looks so much more solid than yours. I think that’s pretty hot.

Right now, you’re sprawled on the couch, playing some NBA game with three potato chip bags next to your wide ass. (Two of the bags are already empty.) You look up, surprised that I’m home so early.

“Wanna play?” you ask.

I smile. “You’re such a bad influence.”

I join you, of course, and wait for you to finish your game. You’ve gotten so much better at video games than me. I’m not jealous, of course. I find it very cute.

I kiss your sweaty cheek and squeeze one of your stomach rolls.

“Don’t distract me,” you say. You’re so close to beating this level.

“Okay,” I say.

And as you finish your game, I feed you the rest of the potato chips.

The End.

Thanks for reading! I wrote this in response to my first ever story request! It's from Anonymous, but that's okay.

If anyone else would like to request something, please hit me up. I'd love to hear from anyone. Whether it's about a scenario, a setting, or even a body type that you'd like to read about... Whatever you want.

(But remember: I don't really do revenge-fattening or instant weight gain.)

[belliesgettingbigger]

I want to write a college story about a health-conscious jock who falls into glorious, gluttonous hedonism after being assigned a dorm with an aspiring pastry chef

Imagine it. He's never had a grain of sugar in his whole life, but one bite and he's overwhelmed, hooked forever. A monster has awakened inside him, and it demands sweets. He expands at a rapid rate as he can't stop himself from eating himself into a food coma every night. But the more he grows, the more his game suffers, until he is a wheezing, wobbly mess on the field. Even then, he can't bring himself to stop eating, can't stop himself from stuffing his gut full to bursting.

Of course, his roommate is always there for him, always ready with another plate of pastries to sate his endless hunger

[extra-stout-stories]

Special Delivery

As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!

--

He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.

The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.

This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.

Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.

That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.

--

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.

He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."

"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."

There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.

--

It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.

He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.

The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.

As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."

The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."

Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."

"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.

"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.

"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.

"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."

"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."

He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."

The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."

As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.

--

He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.

But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.

Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.

One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."

"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.

"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."

And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.

--

It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.

As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."

"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.

"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.

"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?

The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."

They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."

He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.

It was a look of love.

And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.

--

His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.

And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.

[jawwtin]

Gainer Gamer Girl, by girlyhornywriter

@girlyhornywriter's fantastic approach to the classic feedism trope - the gamer girl oblivious to how much she is eating, and just how much she's growing too... 🍕🍕🍕

[dinahthemighty]

You're kneeling on the floor. Sweat drips down your face - from exertion, and from the heat in the room. Your boyfriend always keeps the temperature up when you play. It's mostly to keep you loose and relaxed, and to make sure you can be naked without freezing. He adjusts the ties that hold you up, arms over your head and your naked body on display. He runs the other hand down your front. It ghosts over your soft, fat tits, over the swell of your belly, to come to rest just above your hard cock. He pats you fondly and leans in to whisper into your ear.

“Arch your back a little.”

You obey and push your warm, heavy, overfed gut into his hand. He digs his fingers deep into the soft fat, fingertips prodding at the taut muscles underneath. You moan as his hand moves in little circles, massaging the ache away. He chuckles and gives the bulging roll under your navel a squeeze.

“My poor, greedy hog. So full. Does it feel good?"

“God… yeah...”

That’s all you can get out. You’re too stuffed to talk, belly stretched fit to bursting. You’ve spent the last hour tied to a kitchen chair while he force-fed you slowly but surely until your round gut rested on your thighs – tight as a drum, swollen and bloated with food. When he decided you were done, he eased you down and tied you up again, like this, to inspect and reward you.

I did an original thing :) read it on ao3!

[charliegyrth]

Chicken Shack Fatties

My Coworker's Weight Gain Journey

Hi, everybody! I wrote this in response to another anonymous story request. Great idea, my friend. I had a lot of fun writing this one.

***

“Have a wonderful day!” Clive told the customer, giving her that movie-star smile that melted the hearts of anyone who didn’t know him personally. As soon as she was out of earshot, he mumbled, “Bitch.”

I rolled my eyes. I’d been working alongside Clive for three months now, and his definition of a “bitch” was laughably broad.

Someone who asks for extra barbecue sauce? “Bitch.”

Someone who takes their time looking at the menu. “Bitch.”

Someone who doesn’t say hello before they order. “Bitch.”

Pretty much the only customers that Clive didn’t put in the “bitch” category were the fawning college girls and gay men who checked him out and complimented his gorgeous face or bulging pecs.

Clive Durant was the single meanest human being I’d ever met, treating everyone with disdain or annoyance unless he could get something from them. I genuinely hated him. Not because he was rude to me when we were working together (I could handle that), but because he had every reason to be happy and he wasn’t. If I looked like that, I’d wouldn’t be walking around with a massive chip on my muscular shoulder.

Clive nudged me in the side. “Look who’s here. Get the fryers ready.”

I didn’t need to glance at the door to know exactly who he was talking about. Monty was waddling in for his regular order of five boneless combos with Pepsi and extra salt on his fries. Monty came in every day and was nothing but pleasant, even though Clive insulted him to his face every time.

He was wearing a tank top today, so the edges of his moobs were visible. He was one of those obese guys who did nothing to hide his size. I loved that.

As a very short, very skinny twink myself, I really had a thing for people like Monty. He wasn’t just fat; he was proudly fat, and that was a major turn-on for me. Sure, most people would go for a muscle stud like Clive (and I’d be into that too if he weren’t such a toxic person), but my preference was for someone big and soft and (most importantly) happy.

He reached the counter, his belly pressed against the edge. He was sweaty and red-faced from the walk across the parking lot, but he wore a huge smile. I was manning the fryer in anticipation of his order, leaving Clive to talk to him.

“What can I get you, sir?” he asked dismissively. “You know we’ve added salads to the menu.”

That was a lie. Custer’s Chicken Shack would never offer salads. He just wanted to be rude.

“Actually, I’ll just have my usual.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Clive asked with a mean, little smile. He’d taken this guy’s order dozens of times before. It never changed.

“Combo C. Five of them. Extra salt on the fries, please.”

Clive types in the order. “Oh. You’re having a party?”

“Nope. All for me,” Monty said, completely ignoring the veiled insult. “Oh, and a vanilla milkshake. Large.”

“You’re adding to your order?” Clive asked. “Don’t you think the combos are enough?”

The fry scooper dropped out of my hands. I couldn’t believe Clive said that. This was even worse than usual. Our boss had chosen to let Clive man the counter while I worked the kitchen because he thought Clive’s good looks would draw in more customers. (And they did.) But if he knew the things Clive said…

If I were a stronger person, I’d go straight to our boss and tell him everything. I wasn’t that kind of person, though. I didn’t make ripples, even if I really should. I always told myself that eventually word would get back to management and Clive would be sacked, but that hadn’t happened yet.

I searched Monty’s face for any signs that he’d been offended, but he was still smiling. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I suspected that Monty was one of those fat guys who got off on humiliation. He might actually like Clive’s snide comments, but that didn’t excuse Clive’s behavior.

“Actually,” the fat man said, “the milkshake is for my boyfriend. I wanna surprise him.”

Clive’s dark eyes widened. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Oh. Right. Actually, I guess I don’t anymore.”

That answer elicited a relieved sigh from Clive, who seemed to take personal offense that someone so fat would have a boyfriend while he was still single.

But then Monty raised his hand and showed off the gold band on his chubby finger. “I shoulda said fiancé.”

That made my heart speed up. Good for him. He deserved it. “Congratulations!” I shouted from the kitchen, revealing that I’d been eavesdropping the whole time.

“Uh, yeah. Congratulations,” Clive mumbled as he printed out the receipt.

Monty sat at a table and waited. With no other customers, Clive was supposed to join me in the kitchen to help finish the order. He didn’t. He charged past me, mumbled something about a “smoke break,” and went through the back door into the parking lot. That wasn’t like him. I’d never seen him this upset.

I fixed up Monty’s order and brought it to his table. He looked up at me, smiling as always. “You, um, gave me an extra milkshake.”

“To congratulate you on the engagement. On the house. Would you like help carrying everything back to your car?” I did that whenever he came here during slow hours.

“Thanks, man.”

He carried the two milkshakes while I carried everything else. As we walked across the parking lot (very slowly), he looked over at me, studying my expression. I think he noticed that I kept glancing at his wobbling gut. “Thanks again. I really hope Jason finishes both the milkshakes.” (Jason must’ve been his fiancé.) “He has a long way to catch up, you know?”

I didn’t know what to say. Monty had just confirmed my suspicions. He definitely was a gainer. And Jason must’ve been, too. Good for them. They seemed like a wonderful couple.

Monty opened the door and I laid out the food and drinks on the empty seat. His minivan was absolutely filled with fast-food trash bags. A lot of them were from Custer’s Chicken, but he also had empty bags from Arby’s and McDonalds and a couple other places.

As I closed the door, I told him, “Listen. I’m sorry about my coworker in there. He’s…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always liked those kinds of comments.” (Another suspicion confirmed.) “Plus, I kinda feel sorry for him. He’s just so unhappy all the time.”

“Yeah.” There was nothing else to say. I waved goodbye and hurried back to the restaurant. It looked like another customer had walked in. Before I entered, I noticed Clive standing by himself next to the dumpsters. He was deep in thought, sucking on his vape. He looked miserable.

***

I served three customers before Clive came back in from his smoke break. He saw me pulling double-duty (running from the register to the kitchen), but he didn’t spring into action. He just stood off to the side and watched me.

“Some help?” I asked him.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled before rushing to the assembly counter. That was the first time he’d ever apologized to me.

The rest of our shift was pretty normal. We had slow times and busy times. Pretty basic. The only difference was that Clive stayed weirdly silent for the rest of the day. He didn’t call anyone a “bitch.” He didn’t make any snide comments at all. He just did his job and kept his face blank.

As we were closing up, I asked him directly, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.”

I knew I shouldn’t push the issue. Sullen Clive was so much easier to work with than Mean Clive. But I didn’t want anyone to feel sad, not even a dick like Clive. “I can tell something’s wrong. You can talk to me.”

He looked away.

“Listen. You don’t know this, but whenever we work together, I sort of keep a tally of all the times you call someone a ‘bitch’ behind their back. The final number is always in the double-digits. Today, you said it twice. You’ve been acting different since Monty came in.”

“Who?” He looked me in the eyes. Finally. “Oh, the fat guy. Yeah, um, I guess I was just surprised.”

“That he’s engaged?”

“Yeah. I mean, how am I still single while someone like that…?” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“Monty’s a nice guy. He’s friendly. And you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re a dick. To everyone. You know that, right?”

He didn’t seem offended. He knew how he acted. “Sure, but I’m so hot.”

“I think Monty’s pretty hot,” I admitted. I didn’t tell many people about my attraction to bigger guys, and I never would’ve thought that I’d tell Clive about it. Yet, here we were.

He looked at me like I’d just sprouted a third eye.

In very simple terms, I explained the basics of gainers, encouragers, feederism, all that. (If you’re reading this story, I assume you already know all that stuff.) I even pulled out my Grommr account (mostly inactive lately) and showed him photos of some of my gainer friends who I knew wouldn’t mind being used as examples.

“People like this?” He looked so confused.

“Yeah, but you’re missing the point. People like all different types, but something everyone likes is kindness. Whether you’re super-hot or super-sized, no one’ll want to date you if you’re always so mean all the time. That’s the point.”

He stared at the image on my phone for a long time, sorting through his thoughts. Finally, he said, “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, man.”

I doubted that I’d said anything to change his ways, but we’ll see. Only time will tell.

***

Two months later.

“Bitches,” Clive muttered as a family of four walked out of the restaurant.

“Seriously?”

He turned to me and smiled, showing off his dimples. I’d never noticed those before. “Couldn’t they see that we’re closing? They could’ve hurried the fuck up.”

We still had five more minutes till closing, but since no other customers were here, I started to clean up. Clive grabbed the last three chicken nuggets from the tray and popped them into his mouth one-by-one. Then he just stood there, watching me do all the work. “So? You haven’t said anything about how much I’ve changed since our little talk.”

Our little talk. I didn’t know what he meant. “You mean about the new milkshake settings?”

He punched me in the shoulder. I hated when he did that. “You don’t remember? Two months ago? After that big fat guy Marty told us he was engaged.”

“You mean Monty,” I said. I hadn’t thought about that conversation in weeks, because it obviously hadn’t affected him. Clive was just as mean as always. He still called everyone a bitch. He still insulted customers to their faces. (Monty had stopped coming about a month ago because he was busy planning for his wedding, but we still had plenty of other regulars for Clive to demean.) At the time, it felt like a genuine heart-to-heart, but as expected, nothing came of it.

He looked into my eyes, waiting for me to say something. “What are you getting at, Clive?”

“I’m still waiting for you to congratulate me!” he said, his deep voice coming out childish and petulant. “Everyone else does.”

“Congratulate you for what?”

“Jesus. For this!” He pulled up his red work shirt, showing me his belly.

I gulped. He had a belly. An actual belly. It wasn’t big, but it was definitely there, bulging out of him and hanging just a tiny bit over his belt. Clive’s perfect body was gone.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” he said, acting like he’d gained 100 pounds or something. He let go of his shirt.

“Honestly, I hadn’t.”

In a way, it was shocking that I hadn’t. I loved watching ex-jocks soften up. I loved beginner bellies. And his gain (over 20 pounds, for sure) was definitely noticeable through his shirt. His face looked rounder. His work pants were tighter, too.

If he’d been gaining for the last two months, then I should’ve been in a constant state of horniness whenever I was at work. But I wasn’t. I had no idea.

I think that was because I disliked the guy so much. My brain couldn’t register his (very cute) new belly because I didn’t see him as a sexual object. I saw him as a jerk, plain and simple.

“Well?” he asked, still waiting for a compliment. “I did what you suggested. What do you think?”

“That wasn’t my suggestion. My suggestion was for you to start being nicer to people. I was only explaining the gainer culture so you’d understand Monty and stop treating him like a freak who didn’t deserve love.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “I thought about the nice thing, but that seemed like too much work. Then I went on Grommr, like you told me to…” (I didn’t.) “Just to see what would happen. Posted a bunch of shirtless photos showing off my abs, wrote that I was a gainer, and literally hundreds of horny fucks said they were interested. Dry spell over!”

“So are you a gainer?” I asked. “Is that what you’re really into?”

“Sure,” he said. “It’s easier than going to the gym all the time. And this little guy…” He squeezed his belly. “Is a total dick magnet, man.”

This gave me some seriously mixed emotions. It sucked that Clive had misinterpreted my advice so completely, but at the same time, his extra padding was really sexy. I’d love to see him keep going.

“So are you happier now?”

He poured himself a milkshake, even though we were supposed to be emptying the machine. “Hell yeah. I have guys come over all the time.”

“Any boyfriend prospects?” I asked. I thought that he’d wanted an actual relationship. I thought that had been the main source of his frustrations.

“In time,” he said. “I have too many guys to choose from now.”

I closed out the register and started mopping the floor while Clive took his time slurping up his milkshake. He dripped a little onto the floor, then pointed at the milky puddle. “You missed a spot.”

***

Three months later.

I got out of my car and headed toward the restaurant. I didn’t have to come in to work today, but my boss Arvin asked if I could pop in for a one-on-one meeting. I didn’t know if this was a good meeting or a bad meeting. I busted my ass off for the company, but I never seemed to get any recognition for it. I really hoped that things were about to change, but if not, if I was about to get blamed for low sales or something, then I was prepared to quit.

When I reached the back entrance, I saw Clive sitting on the steps, his head in his hands. His gut filled his lap, big and soft and bunched into three rolls. I’d seen him the day before, so I knew how big he’d gotten, but this position really accentuated how soft he was. A few of my gainer friends were about his size (230-ish?), but they were good people, so I found their bellies much sexier.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I just got fired,” he said.

My heart pounded. Did that mean I was getting fired, too? Were they cleaning house?

I sat next to him on the steps, partly to comfort him but mostly to get more information before I met with Arvin. “What happened?”

“I fucked up,” he mumbled through his hands.

Couldn’t argue with that. He’d always been a terrible worker, leaving me to pick up the slack. But with his added weight, he’d gotten even lazier. He barely did anything besides work the register and insult the customers. Worse, he’d started stealing food from the kitchen, a little more each week, to the point where we were constantly running out of fries and milkshake mix.

I didn’t know what to say, so I awkwardly patted his shoulder, acting like we were friends.

“I got away with so much stuff because I was hot,” he said. “But now I’m not, and I…” He started crying. “I never should’ve gotten fat.”

Once again, he needed some straight-talk. “You didn’t get fired because you’re fat. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like being a gainer?” I asked. I still couldn’t tell.

He looked up at me, his eyes red and wet. “I like the attention. But I still don’t have a boyfriend. I chat with dozens of guys. They come over to fuck me or feed me or whatever, but none of them want a relationship. Just hook-ups. I’m in the exact same situation as when I was hot, except now I can’t coast on my looks at work, and I… I don’t know.”

Once again, he was misinterpreting things. I knew that plenty of guys on Grommr were interested in more than just hook-ups. The problem was Clive. He was the reason guys met him once and then ghosted him. His body had changed so much, but his attitude was still toxic. The only difference between Old Clive and New Clive was his BMI.

He grabbed his belly roll and squeezed it in anger. “I hate this. I never shoulda…” He was focusing his anger on his body, but when that didn’t work, he looked into my eyes and directed his anger at me. “I never shoulda listened to you!”

“Dammit, Clive. Nothing is your fault, huh?” I was done talking to him. I stood up and marched toward the door. I turned to look at him one last time, a fat, sad lump on the steps. “Have a good life, man.”

Then I pushed my way inside.

Arvin was waiting for me in his office. He stood up when I entered (something he’d never done before) and shook my hand.

I made sure to grip his hand tight. When he hired me two years ago, I could tell that he judged me for my overall twinkness, I guess. I was pretty small and my voice was high, and he didn’t really like that. (When he’d hired Clive, also gay but much more masculine, he acted different. He said Clive was “commanding” and had “management potential,” two things that he never said to me.)

So yeah, I gave him the hearty handshake he wanted and I puffed my chest a little as I sat across from him. “You wanted to see me?”

The rest of the meeting went so much better than I expected. Arvin explained how Clive had gotten some complaints (lots of them) and how he’d become aware that I was the one doing all the work. More importantly, I was always kind to the customers.

I felt so damn vindicated.

I knew that if Clive had remained ripped and hot, a lot less people would’ve complained about him. That’s just the way of the world. But since he wasn’t conventionally attractive anymore, people stopped tolerating his terrible attitude. The result was that he was gone and I could finally be acknowledged for my hard work.

Arvin offered me a raise and a promotion, which meant I’d be managing all three Custer’s Chicken locations in the city. I’d even get to hire Clive’s replacement. This was a dream come true for me. I didn’t feel guilty that my success had come at the expense of Clive’s job. Screw that guy. I’d earned this.

“So? Will you accept?”

“Absolutely.”

***

Eighteen months later.

“Have a nice day!” I called to the chubby couple walking out of the restaurant.

They smiled and waved. What a cute couple.

It felt pretty nice to be behind the counter at my old Custer’s Chicken Shack. Since becoming regional manager, I spent a lot more time at my office in our downtown location. I loved my work, but it felt nice to be back where it all started, dealing with customers face-to-face.

Early in the day, I even got to see Monty and his husband again. They looked so happy. Monty had lost a bit of weight, but Jason (his husband) had gained more than enough for both of them. I gave them complementary milkshakes (one of the perks of being manager), and they promised to pay me back with drinks at the next Bear Night at Rammer’s.

I told them I’d see them there. (I was single again and needed to put myself out there more.)

The restaurant was pretty slow for a while, until another customer walked in. I gulped. This was the single, most handsome man I’d ever seen. Hugely overweight, with a thick beard and buzzed hair. His legs were tree trunks, shifting against each other as he waddled toward me. His hanging gut and glorious moobs were in a constant state of movement. Just pure, wonderful softness.

Best of all, he had the biggest smile on his round face. Just one look at him and I knew that this guy was happy with himself and proud of his size.

When he reached me, he had to steady himself against the counter, leaning forward so that his chest flopped onto its surface. “Hey,” he said.

“Hello,” I said back, trying (and failing) to hide my raw attraction. Guys like this were the reason I’d chosen a career in fast food. My God. “What can I get you?”

He looked at me for a while. His smile turned into a smirk. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

“Sorry,” I muttered. I tried to place his face, flipping through my mental rolodex of regular customers, then bar acquaintences, then online Grommr friends. Nope. I didn’t recognize him.

“Maybe this’ll help,” he said. He forced his expression to harden into a superior, annoyed sneer. That’s when I recognized him.

“Clive?!”

He smiled again. “How’s it going, man? You look exactly the same.”

I did. Still a skinny twink, though my hair was going prematurely gray around the temples, just like my dad. “And you look…”

“Fat?” he asked.

“No. You look nice.”

I know it sounds crazy, but the reason I didn’t recognize him wasn’t because of the hundred-plus pounds that he’d packed onto his body. Plenty of my friends had gone through similar transformations, and I always knew who they were.

No, I didn’t recognize Clive because his whole aura was different. He didn’t look like a jerk anymore. He didn’t act like he was above everyone. He didn’t have that look of constant judgment on his face. He was comfortable with himself, and most of all, he was happy.

And for the first time, I found my former coworker very, very attractive.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

He laughed. “After I got fired, I went on a wellness retreat, planning to lose all the weight. But while I was there, surrounded by other broken people, I realized that my problem was my outlook, not my size. I finally learned the lesson that you’d been trying to teach me all those times. Sorry it didn’t sink in sooner.”

“Good for you,” I said, staring into his warm, friendly eyes.

“I came back here, got an office job, and have been sorting myself out ever since.”

“And actively gaining,” I said. He’d deleted his Grommr account a while back, so he must’ve distanced himself from the social side, but his body was proof that he’d fully and completely embraced his Gainer Brain.

“Not really,” he said with a laugh. “I know, right? Hard to believe. I’ve learned over the last year to like myself at any size. I just eat when I’m happy, and since I’m always happy…” His voice trailed off.

I glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one else was there. Yup. We were alone.

“So. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No,” he said flirtatiously. “I’m really happy to see you, my friend.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Let’s see how much you can order.”

Ten minutes later (and still no other customers), I sat across from Clive with our table overflowing with chicken burgers, fries, nuggets, pretty much everything we had in the kitchen. He smiled at me. I smiled at him.

We talked. He ate. It was wonderful.

“I’m gonna close up soon.”

“I know,” he said through a mouthful of fries and chicken.

“Would you like to come back to my place afterward?”

He smiled, a dribble of grease on his chins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The End.

Thanks for reading! And thanks for the suggestion!

[belliesgettingbigger]

Rodrigo is a merchant from a foreign land come to sell his exotic wares. He finds the most beautiful girl in the city and makes her his wife, letting her be the first to taste his amazing new invention: "chocolate".

His new wife Rosa gorges on the stuff, at first unaware of what it's doing to her physique, but soon she just can't stop. She craves it night and day, eating until she bursts from her groaning corsets, plush fat accumulating with every obsessed bite.

Of course, Rodrigo doesn't mind. In fact, he makes sure that Rosa always has more treats waiting, never missing an opportunity to shove more chocolate into her doughy hands. He plans to fatten her up until she can't move, then set her up permanently in his shop, gorging constantly, her expanding body a better advertisement for his delicious wares than money could ever buy.

[extra-stout-stories]

That Little Bit Fatter

April 2024: A realistic vignette from my old blog which I'm reposting here to centralize likes/reblogs and deactivate my defunct account. (Second person feedee POV, encouragement, SFW.)

You got that little bit fatter, and now your shirts don't fit.

You can still button them up -- barely. But they're snug on the curve of your fat belly, and they just barely leave enough slack for you to tuck them into your pants under your belly hang. (Your pants are getting tight, too.) Sit down at the right angle and you can feel the buttons strain, but even when they're not, you can feel that snugness, that tightness, like a little whisper in your ear as you go through the workday: you're getting fatter.

You've had a double chin for years. But you got that little bit fatter and now you really look fat, no matter what the angle. Sit down at the right angle and you can feel your face sink into it. It feels comfortable.

You got that little bit fatter and your moobs stuck out that little bit further. Under your arms they've even turned into side rolls that you can grab a handful of and jiggle. Good thing you got that little bit fatter and your belly grew too, just to keep them in perspective.

You've had a belly for years, too. You've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now your belly is a real slab of flab, rolling over your waistline in a proper hang. You can't keep your hands off it, can you? Without even realizing that you're doing it you sometimes find yourself idly hefting it, feeling how soft and thick it's gotten, tracing your fingertips along the warm, soft line where it folds over.

Yes, you've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now you're undeniably, unmistakably fat. You can see it in people's faces sometimes, a subtle difference in the way they react when you reach for another helping of food. They're not seeing someone who's "let themselves go a little"; they're seeing a fat person, a person who loves to eat, who eats more than they're supposed to and doesn't seem to care. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't awkward sometimes, but you like it, too. You always secretly liked being fat, secretly loved to eat, even secretly fantasized about growing bigger. But you got that little bit fatter and crossed the line into properly fat and not just chubby, and now your fatness feels somehow realer, truer. You got that little bit fatter and suddenly your identity felt more secure.

You got that little bit fatter and you started testing your limits. You used to feel embarrassed by how much you could eat in a sitting. Now it feels like a challenge, and you're hooked on the excitement. You got that little bit fatter and you started enjoying going out to eat and ordering that extra appetizer, that extra dessert, even that extra entree. You got that little bit fatter and it was like giving yourself permission to embrace the glutton you've always been.

You got that little bit fatter and you liked it.

But sometimes, standing there hefting your belly hang in the mirror or lying back in your armchair and breathing heavily as you digest another big meal, it feels like it's still not enough. You're not that big. It's not like you're so fat that you can't reach past your belly. It's not like you're so fat that you can't walk.

Maybe tomorrow you'll add another snack or two to what you've already been eating. Maybe when you're in the snack aisle you'll look at the calorie counts and go for the highest one you can find. Just for fun.

Maybe you'll get a little bit fatter.

[jawwtin]

Giving Feederism a "Try", by girlyhornywriter

Your boyfriend encourages you to indulge in his fantasies, and indulge your own appetite a little more. You're a little apprehensive, but, hey, why not? Where could it possibly end up leading to...? 🐖😈

Another one of those pieces where I immediately want to reach for my phone to record. @girlyhornywriter is an exceptional writer and you should all check out their work! (Also I have a new phone, so my mic is sounding significantly better, even after having to reduce this file to satisfy tumblr's size limits)

[belliesgettingbigger]

Is Patient 323 going to become immobile or blob?

Mrs. Woodhouse: That all depends on the patient herself. If Patient 323 is good and obedient, she may be allowed to return home while she can still walk. Indeed, I am proud to see my former patients waddling their way down the streets. How much better it is for a young girl to huff and wheeze instead of wasting her breath on backtalk or having opinions.

However, I have little hope for Patient 323. She is constantly whining, crying that she is "full". If she continues resisting, I will be forced to keep her under my care. For her own good.

[coweysworld]

i want my bottom half to be so fucking wide that i won’t be able to fit and walk through doors.

people to stare while my partner is on the other side shoving me to get me in.

as the whole ordeal is done..i’m out of breath and my partner just whispers praises and degrading words into my ears.

where are we going to cause all this trouble? a buffet of course!