#wg fic

[allfattenedup]

Part of a wg story I found in my drafts:

· · ─────── · 🐷 · ─────── · ·

"If you'll let me, I'll make sure you never stop feeling like this," you whisper, suddenly tender, kneeling on the couch next to me, halfway to straddling.

"Like what?" I ask, voice rough with want as I look down. I've never been able to eat myself this big on my own. I've never even seen myself this big. My cheeks burn as I carefully feel the heavy sides of my new gut.

"On fire," you whisper, watching me explore what you've done to me. "Every nerve lit up.

"You're great, and this is..." My head falls back in pleasure against the back of the couch, hands pressed to either side of the belly that doesn't feel like mine. Heavy and full. So, so big. "..this is incredible. But if we keep doing this, I'm going to..." I bite my lip. The thought is hot. Too hot. Way way too hot, too dangerous. I can't let myself get swept away in it. "This was supposed to be a one-time thing," I protest half-heartedly.

"I know." You nod, sweetly massaging a roll, and I gasp, face crumpling in ecstasy. "And it can be... if you want it to." "No." The word comes out to my dismay, but I can't keep it in. This can't be the only time we do this. The thought of it slipping through my fingers makes my voice urgent. "No, please. Just... a little more."

"Okay," you coo, kissing down my cheek, my slightly soft jaw. "But you know that if you keep seeing me, you're going to get fat, right?" Your breath is so hot on my ear, and you nip at my earlobe. "You're going to get very... very fat."

My head spins. My belly throbs. I can't breathe. "...yes."

"Are you ready for that?"

I swallow, and decide to answer honestly. "I don't think so."

"But...?"

"But I don't care." The desperate need in my rough whisper alarms even me.

You lean forward and kiss my nose. We're so close, I can feel the heat of your body radiating into mine. "Thank you for being honest," you whisper, and your hand moves excruciatingly slowly from gently rubbing a roll, around to settle on the straining front of my belly, and you place your palm flat, slowly beginning to rub circles. "You don't have to worry. I'm taking care of you now. I'll make you nice and fat, and if you get embarrassed, I'll make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay.” I gasp, arching up what little I can into your hand.

“And if you get nervous - about how fast you’re changing, or any of it - I’ll just push a nice treat past those lips and you’ll remember you’re my docile little fat pet. Won’t you?”

“Yes.” "We'll get you a nice heavy belly," you promise, sliding the rest of the way onto my lap, sharing it with the gut you've already started to put on me, and drag over the bag of chocolates. "Don't you worry."

[bigolbadblog]

You wake up still bloated. Still stuffed. There's no headache, no foul aftertaste that would indicate a night spent drinking, but your memories of last night are hazy anyways. Maybe because so many of your nights have been rather similar lately.

Last night was, what, takeout from that curry place down the road? Or maybe that was the night before. Maybe last night was soul food. You belch and wince. Whatever else it had been, you decide last night must have included ice cream. Lots of ice cream. Gingerly, you reach down (up) to rub the peak of your belly- swollen it may be, but that layer of softness that meets your hand isn't just bloating. Another belch. Ice cream and... tacos?

You hear light footsteps approach the bed, and blink blearily up at the love of your life. "Jesus fuck," you greet them with a whine, pulling the sheet aside to show them the expanse of your belly. "How much did you- ourrp- how much did you FEED me last night?"

"Good morning to you too, beautiful." They bend over to give you a kiss on the cheek. "And don't worry about that." They pat your belly, which- traitorously- growls with sudden, utterly irrational hunger. They smile. "Breakfast is almost ready."

[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.

[tanuki-voice]

Your body is getting heavier to remind you to sit down. Relax more. Stress less. Enjoy yourself. It's hard to get up, so why do it? Feel how soft the couch is. Why would you leave its gentle embrace? Get some snacks. Turn something entertaining on the TV. Let your own weight press you into the couch. Have some more snacks. Feel yourself get heavier, gut spilling into your lap, and hips slowly filling out your plush seat, as you sink deeper into the cushions. So relaxed. So comfy. So well fed.

[overstuffd]

thinking about all the amazing options feeders have to give their little piggies to drink

🥤sugar stuffed soda with plenty of carbonation to stretch your stomach to bursting point and then melt into a soft layer of blubber

🍺cold beer, lining your stomach with liquid carbs while making you light headed and easy to feed more salty treats to

🍦milkshakkeess extra thick gainer shakes with a slice of decadent cake blended in with with the icecream and heavy cream

☕coffee filled with cream and extra, extra syrup, topped with more cream and chocolate drizzle. an extra shot of espresso or two to get you craving more and more cups a day

🧃sugary juices i persuade you as a still-in-denial cutie are the healthy choice, plying you with thousands of calories of sugary sweetness on a hot day and agreeing whenyou say you have no idea why your pants are getting so tight

[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!

[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)

[growmydarling]

Growing Gal

Remi was never a bigger girl. In fact she was on the slender side...Until she met you. You, who were always pulling something sweet-smelling and warm out of the oven with a smile. Who never failed to have treats in your bag and who always asked to stop somewhere for a drink but inevitably alsp ordered appetizers for the table. Which Remi increasingly ate the lion's share of. Suddenly, it seemed, her tummy was resting more heavily in her lap. It sometimes peeked out from under what had never looked like crop tops until very recently. You sometimes slipped your fingers underneath its weight and lifted the weight gently, feeling it pool against you. She always blushed at this and would spend the rest of the day munching away on snacks. Almost as though the acknowledgement of what was happening to her body made her feel insatiable. And maybe it did. Why was it that the day Remi's friend snickered and told her she looked pregnant with your demon-spawn, she bought every pastry off the clearance rack and they seemed to disappear from the kitchen by the next day? Why did she seem so ravenous the week after an embarrassing trip to her doctor's office where she was chided for her sudden increase it pants size? You didn't know but it seemed to make your fingers ravenous to touch her swelling, softening body. You were both hungry for more.

[tanuki-voice]

Obsessed with the idea of becoming a feedee hucow.

Dating someone with sinister intentions, they plump me up meal after meal, making me bigger. But then also at the same time, they're trying to make me dumber as well. Thinking for me so I don't have to, giving me a life where I don't have to do anything, I get to sit back, relax, and let them pamper me. They might even give me a bit of weed to get me high, make me dull and docile.

With this perfect environment, and all the feedings, they start putting emphasis on me being theirs, being their pet. They squish me after a big meal, show how they have control of my new, bigger assets. It feels so good, but instead of moaning, they ask me to moo for them instead. I oblige them, and they reward me for every time I do it. My mind feels so empty. There's nothing but being their fat little cow.

From now on, they start training me, rewarding me for little pavlovian actions designed to restructure my brain; eating a huge surplus of calories, using as little words as possible, mooing, letting them pretend to milk my chest, however they feel. But it's all too nice to refuse. It's too perfect to resist. As I keep getting fatter and more docile, I enjoy it all more and more.

I can just imagine myself, in their bed, 200+ pounds heavier and still growing, brain empty, in some adorable little cow print lingerie outfit they've bought me. I might even produce milk. So cute. So dumb. So perfect. No thoughts, only the compulsion to obey, and to be their fat little cow.

[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 bf is on the other side shoving me to get me in.

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

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

[sugar-softies]

Once, long ago, a young dragon crash landed in a storm.

They landed in a farmer’s field, tearing up a row of crops with their slender but dense body. A loss like this could understandably enrage a poor farmer trying to make ends meet during a time of high royal tax and poor weather, but when the farmer’s son found the dragon he was more concerned than anything.

“Here, you can spend the night in the barn.” The young peasant led the dragon to a bed of hay and offered them a baked potato. “Stay as long as you need.”

“You are very kind…”

Stay the dragon did. With a sprained wing and the weather still raging, it was better to stay put and rest.

As they rested, the dragon and the peasant swapped stories, told jokes, and grew closer. So close, that when it was time for the dragon to leave, they both found themselves reluctant.

Sad as they were, the dragon had to go. They needed far more food to sustain such a large powerful body, and the farmers needed all of their crops without any to spare.

So, the farmer’s son gifted the dragon with a farewell gift: a necklace made of elegantly braided rope. It was very loose, dangling down past the dragon’s chest, but it was a lovely gift.

Years passed, and the king grew more corrupt and demanding. Eventually, the farmer sent his son to go and find somewhere else to live, unable to support a family under such fierce taxation. He told his son he hoped he found a land of plenty of peace, and sent him on his way.

The peasant wandered for some time, eventually taking shelter in a cave when a storm passed by.

At first, the peasant assumed the growling he heard echoing in the cave was just the growling of his sunken belly, but after awhile he started to follow the sound deeper into the cave.

To his surprise, he found a whole kingdom of dragons living within.

At first, his presence was received with suspicion, but after a few of them got his scent they realized he had a dragon’s blessing on him, and decided to bring him to their ruler.

The peasant gulped nervously as he was brought into a large part of the cave full of gold and precious gems, but his fear turned to shock and awe when he saw the ruler of all dragonkind.

It was barely recognizable as a dragon, a mound of fat rising and falling with breath, a collection of rotund circles and ovals jammed together in a roughly draconic shape. That was shocking enough, but what really surprised the peasant was the dragon’s throat.

There was an apron of fat draping over a section of neck that had been constricted somehow, and when the dragon ruler saw him coming, they smiled and lifted that apron of fat to reveal a lovely if not aged braided rope necklace fitting tightly there, somehow not choking them.

“You’ve done so well for yourself!” The peasant kicked his legs as he sat on the ledge of the large stone slab that was the dragon’s throne. “I mean… really well.” He blushed as he studied their overfed form.

The dragon laughed. “I have, and I’m glad you’re here to do well too. I’ve always wanted to thank you for your kindness, friend.” The dragon used a nearly fat obscured claw to lift the peasant’s shirt, examining his visible ribs with sadness. “You will be a prince in my kingdom, your every whim will be tended to. This, I promise.”

The peasant’s heart skipped a beat.

“Here, let me get this spot for you, it looks like you might have trouble reaching.” He shyly scratched under one of the fat folds, giggling when it elicited a content purr.

The peasant lived happily in the dragon kingdom, at first politely refusing most of the excess thrust upon him, but soon enough learning it was okay to accept the gifts and feasts the dragons wished him to have. So he accepted more, and more, and more, learning quickly how his friend had grown so large.

They never had to hunt or farm for themselves, food was brought to them in large amounts and they ate out of boredom more than hunger. It was an amazing experience to forget what hunger felt like after being hungry his whole life, and so the peasant’s body began to swell outwards and grow plump just like his friend.

“Nnn-! Nnnnnn…” the peasant struggled on his back, attempting over and over to sit up until he flopped back out of breath and panting. “I can’t- can’t get- I can’t-” he wheezed and then laughed. “I can’t get up…”

“I haven’t gotten up in years.” The dragon ruler shrugged with a smile. “Just have another bite and relax.” The dragon draped a lovely gold necklace over the triple chin where their friend’s neck used to be, then forced another bite of spicy sauce drenched meat into his mouth. “You deserve a life of relaxation, my dear friend.”

[taeslovehandles]

[Snipet of Potioncraft]

“That is good information to have, Yoongi.” Taking the cup from the familiar, Hoseok filled it all the way up, the cauldron about half way depleted now. “More.” He held it out to the sweaty cat.

Seeing the next refill of his jar made Yoongi’s cheeks pout harder. He had hoped that for being such a good familiar and giving his master the information he was seeking, he’d be finished with the potion now. “T-Thank you…master.” Of course this wasn’t the damn case. Of course it wasn't.

Yoongi drank the next fill down completely and waited for the familiar but unwelcome increase of the tingling sensation. “Nghh…” It really started to feel different. He was getting so much heavier that standing on his feet began to hurt. “I- I really don’t like it. Can’t we stop? It’s always the same f-fee-buuuurp- ling. Sorry…” Urgh, the potion made him burp too.

His belly was now starting to divide itself in two separate sections. A smaller top roll and a larger, heavily fat filled, lower roll. His sides also grew outwards making the cat’s pants rip open at the seams to dangle helplessly between his hanging gut. “Oh god, please no…” Technically now he was naked. Terrible, terrible idea to drink this thing.

“Ngh…” Yoongis cheeks went even brighter red from sheer embarrassment. He really wanted this damn potion to just be done with. At least there wasn’t a mirror he had to see himself in.

------------------------------

I had so much fund esigning hobis outfit there. Took me three days to finish, but I also wasn't putting a lot of hours into it. I got inspired by the finished shortstory me and @pudgecuddles did together. Potioncraft will be posted closer towards Halloween as a little special!

[gray-wednesday]

Chapters: 1/31 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Weight Gain, Feedism, Male Weight Gain, magical weight gain, farmers markets, pumpkin transformation, Kind Of Summary:

My writing for @fatguarddog's Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts on tumblr! I'm choosing which prompt to write as the days go by, so the prompt chosen will be the title for each chapter. Wish me luck, I'm once again going to try to make something every day!

Chapter 1: Farmer's Market 🌽

Arthur participates in a giant pumpkin contest at his local farmers market and wins against the reigning champion! At the cost of being cursed to grow just as big as his pumpkin...

The pumpkin, in the span of just a couple months, had grown from the tiniest little green bulb to a massive behemoth of a gourd. It was so big it was having a hard time keeping a traditional pumpkin shape and instead looked like it was melting into a puddle.

Arthur couldn't be prouder. This wasn't his first time participating in the pumpkin growing contest at his sleepy little town's farmer's market, but it was the first time that he was convinced that he was going to win. Even the five year running pumpkin growing  champion, Edna, had never showed up to the market with a pumpkin this big before!

He used a chain hoist to get the pumpkin into the bed of his truck, tied it down, and drove the short distance to the market. When he arrived, he parked his truck in the pumpkin contest designated area and let the staff haul the pumpkin out of his truck.

The competition was about to start when Edna veered into the parking lot in her car; a wholly impractical vehicle that somehow managed to fit her enormous pumpkins in the trunk each year, though Arthur couldn't fathom how. The staff rushed to gather her pumpkin and bring it to the stage with the other hopefuls. As they got closer, Arthur could see that her pumpkin was bigger than ever and, as always, picture perfect--not slumped and spreading like his own at all. Arthur glanced back and forth between them, but the difference in shape made it hard to tell which one was bigger.

The pumpkins were then all systematically weighed, the judges scribbling madly on their clipboards to record the weights as well as features like height and circumference for secondary prizes.

Finally the announcer came to the microphone and announced cheerily, "We have a winner!"

Arthur wrung his hands in anticipation, hopefully he'd at least win second place!

"Arthur, with a pumpkin weighing in at 746 lbs!"

Arthur's heart nearly burst out of his chest--he'd won, he'd actually beaten Edna! He stood up from his seat and giddily approached the stage, smiling for the camera as the announcer shook his hand and gave him the first place prize, a couple hundred dollar check. His pumpkin was pinned with a big blue ribbon, and they got a picture with him next to it too before he went back to his seat to hear the rest of the winners.

The next name was Edna, her pumpkin weighing only a pound or two less than Arthur's. She practically snatched her check out of the announcer's hand and generally looked quite annoyed that she hadn't won first place. Arthur almost felt bad, but he was too proud of his hard work to let it really get to him.

Finally, with all the winners awarded and pumpkins pinned with their ribbons, Arthur left to enjoy the rest of the market, buying a couple premade treats and some ingredients for pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread so he could make use of his giant pumpkin later.

He then went back to the contest area to get his prize pumpkin hauled back into his truck to take home. His mouth watered as he decided to make himself that pie when he got home. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Edna approaching him.

"Edna!" He exclaimed, when he saw her. "You snuck up on me haha. Um, congratulations on second place! Your pumpkin was magnificent this year."

Edna' pinched face darkened even further at his words.

"It's not fair." She growled. "You don't even have magic… how did you make your pumpkin so big?!"

"M-magic?" Arthur repeated, confused. "What are you--"

Edna recited a rhyme that Arthur couldn’t quite make out, waving her hands mystically as she did so. Arthur watched on, bewildered.

"There," she sniffed. "Let's see you win next year when you're too fat to do anything , let alone work in your garden!"

Edna turned on her heel and strode away, satisfaction radiating off of her.

Arthur watched for a few seconds, wondering what she could possibly have meant, but quickly decided to let it go. Who knew she was such a poor loser? He thought to himself.

He turned back to his pumpkin to finish securing the straps holding it still only to find that his pumpkin looked much smaller than before, the straps that had been pulled snug against it gone loose and slack. Arthur tightened the stars again, but felt the pumpkin rapidly growing smaller, the fully tightened straps falling limp again a couple seconds after moving to the next.

Arthur couldn't believe it, putting a leg up to climb into the truck bed and ascertain whether or not this was really happening...

Except he grossly miscalculated and missed the truck bed, his shoe slapping back down to the asphalt, nearly pitching him onto his face, sending his belly jiggling wildly. His belly that had definitely not been big enough to jiggle like that before...

Arthur looked down at himself in horror as his body swelled and fattened, just as quickly as his pumpkin was shrinking. The buttons burst off his shirt, pinging to the floor, his jeans split at the seams, with audible rrrrRRRRRIIIIPPPPs , and his belly hung lower and lower, shifting his center of balance until he had to grip onto his truck for balance.

He had to get out of here before he was butt naked in the parking lot, but the swelling was speeding up, his body blew past milestones, 400, 500 pounds, his clothes completely shredded and lying limply on the ground in a trail behind him. He was positively lumbering as he yanked his driver side door open.

It was going to be a tight fit, but he had to squeeze himself in before he got any bigger. Arthur scrambled headfirst into the truck, but got caught around the waist, his circumference swelling rounder and rounder, growing more stuck by the second.

"No no no!" He cried. He felt like he was going to cry. How humiliating could this be? In a couple minutes the fair would be over and everyone would see his fat ass hanging out the door of his truck!

A couple seconds later, a pair of hands pressed into his plush butt and firmly shoved him from behind, sending him sprawling inside his truck, the entire thing shifting under his enormous weight.

Arthur had just enough room to roll over and get a look at his savior, a woman about the same age as him.

"A-are you okay?" She squeaked, obviously embarrassed to have touched him so intimately.

"I-I don't know." Arthur answered honestly. He thought he recognized her from somewhere, maybe high school?

The woman observed him for a moment, seemingly unable to keep her eyes off his corpulent form and its overflowing belly.

"Y-you won't be able to drive home like this." She said quickly. "I'll tow you home."

She shut the door to prying eyes and quickly hitched his truck up to hers. By the time they reached his farmhouse, Arthur could tell that he had stopped growing, undoubtedly having reached the 746 pounds of his winning pumpkin.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but when the woman opened the door again and helped pry him out of his truck's interior with such gentleness and sincerity, it gave him hope that maybe this wasn't as disastrous as he'd thought. After all, something still had to be done about that witch.

[tanuki-voice]

Not gonna lie, part of the allure of being fed is the feeling of being taken care of. I love it so much. Someone is there for you, to feed you, to hold you, to give you warm praise as you eat more and more for them. They're focused on you, on providing you the most pleasant experience possible, bringing you whatever you desire, and helping make room in your stomach for it. Every burp, big bite, or swallow met with encouragement and affection. You can relax, and just eat. You don't even have to think. That's what they're here for, after all.

[jawwtin]

Little Treat by shurbberylogistic

You deserve all the little treats, of course you do... but are you quite aware of how so many treats add up to some big growth? ;))

More weight gain audio fiction thanks to @shrubberylogistic's quality writing, be sure to check it out below!