Another Beer Belly Compilation Enjoy

Another beer belly compilation… enjoy

How much do u weigh

I weigh 244 kg.

Pig Out

     Dylan was finished. It was finally time to break it off. He needed to do it if he ever wanted any chance at being normal. These were thoughts swimming around in Dylan’s head as he opened Skype just as he did every Friday at 6pm exactly. What had begun as innocent fun had now become an impediment to Dylan’s ever changing desires for his body.

      For the past few years, Dylan had been possessed at biannual intervals by a desire to grow. Most guys his age would simply begin going to the gym on a regular basis, but muscles were not the type of growth he was fixated on. No, Dylan wanted to be fat. Having been on the thinner side for much of his life, Dylan managed to shrug off the urge. That was until about one year from the present day. Dylan had found himself browsing the internet, chatting with others of similar inclination, and suddenly something clicked. It was as if a scrap of metal had fallen onto some wiring, completing a circuit which would fuel his inherent desire to watch his body spread out before him, packing itself with pound after pound of blubber. And so it began, the late night trips to round out the day with a fourth meal of greasy fast food, the high calorie shakes consumed throughout the day, the feeling that clothes which had fit since high school becoming constricting strait jackets. In the span of two months he managed to pack on 20 pounds to his 170 pound frame, leaving him on the edge of 200 and at the final borders of chubby. That’s when he found Connor.

     He had been reading the comments on a recently posted picture of his, when one struck a special cord with him. He read it several times over, allowing the words to sink in, feeling them tickle a dark part of his psyche. It didn’t take him long to contact the sender through a message thanking him for his comment and asking if what he had said was really true. The reply came, confirming his request. The man who had introduced himself as Connor was trained as a hypnotherapist, but on the side, he loved to help men in the gaining community realize their potentials. He’d helped a few others and now he was offering to do the same for Dylan. Somehow, the idea of trancing out and just letting go of himself to be free to be controlled by his desire to eat excited Dylan. And so, their weekly sessions began. Dylan would sign on to Skype and wait for Connor to call. Connor would then take Dylan down into a deep trance state. Dylan loved the feeling, letting all of his tension go, relaxing to a deeper level than he thought possible, losing himself in the icy depths of Connor’s brilliant blue eyes. Eventually, the suggestions would begin. Connor would focus on this force within Dylan, suppressed by his conscious mind, attempting to build it up and allow it to come to the forefront. For lack of other term, he would refer to this as his “inner pig.” The effects were minimal at first, Dylan would awaken with a slightly increased desire to eat, or a slight rumbling in his stomach, but after a month or so of regular sessions, the suggestions finally began to cement themselves. In order to increase the effect, Connor added a trigger phrase, “pig out”, only usable by himself. Hearing the trigger would awaken a powerful urge within Dylan to gorge and gorge until he could no more. Generally, their sessions would begin with reinforcing the hypnotic suggestions already in place, followed by Connor awakening Dylan and then saying the trigger phrase. Connor would then watch as Dylan would feast on anything and everything he could get his hands on, before finally ending it by saying “pig in.”

     The sessions worked liked magic. Dylan managed to put on another 30 pounds in the following two months. Crossing 200 was amazing. He finally felt big. He finally felt like he was getting fat just like had always wanted. He took relish in bursting the buttons of of clothing that once fit his skinny frame. He reveled in the attention that he received from posting on the internet about his gains. But eventually, as it had every time before, Dylan’s interests began to fade. He began to regard his weight as less of a badge of honor and more of a mark of disgrace. He began to feel disgusting in public, as though people were judging him for not being the stereotypical gay man. Connor noticed that their sessions were becoming shorter and shorter, with Dylan hardly seeming as interested in eating as he had been. The triggers still worked like a charm, but it didn’t really seem like he was as well prepared for them, usually only having a few things to eat as opposed to feasts of fast food and pizza like before.

     All of this led up to today, the day that Dylan was finally going to tell Connor the truth: that he had been working out more recently and had already lost 15 pounds of what he had gained. That he no longer wanted to have their feeding sessions. That he wanted a body that society would deem attractive. He typed his password into the box on the screen, feeling a faint pang of regret. Connor’s call came, just as it did every time.

“Hey, there’s my big guy!” Connor teased. “….Hey…” was all Dylan could manage.

“You ready to start?”

“…Look…Connor…we need to talk…”

“…About what?” confusion mixed with concern across the canvas of Connor’s face.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“…What…what do you mean?!”

“I don’t wanna be fat anymore. I..I…been losing weight for the past month.”

“Oh…but….I thought….”

“Well you thought wrong!….I…I need to go now.” Dylan’s arm reached up to pull his laptop closed.

“Wait! Dylan wait! Let me just say one thing!”

“…Fine. What is it?”

A dark smile crossed Connor’s face as he muttered in a cold voice: “Pig out.” And just like that, he was gone.

     Dylan stared at the screen, his stomach suddenly rumbling loudly, convulsing in hunger pains. He thought to himself of all the high protein foods he had stocked in the fridge in neatly pre-prepared portions. And before he could think of much else, there he was ripping them open, shoveling them into his mouth. A whole week’s worth of healthy meals vanished in the span of an hour. Half a gallon of milk washed it all down. Dylan’s addled mind was focused on the need for protein, but in reality, it was just his subconscious manipulating his conscious mind into doing its fattening bidding. Cleaning out the fridge wasn’t enough for Dylan’s growling gut. And soon, he found himself in the drive-thru, ordering enough tacos and burritos to feed a large family. He had barely pulled through, before he began shucking the wrappers from the delicious morsels, unceremoniously horking them down.

     Dylan woke the next morning in bed, surrounded by the wrappers of everything that he had eaten last night. This was not unusual for a Saturday morning, since his sessions with Connor were always on Friday nights. But this time, his stomach was aching not from being overfull, but from being empty. He quickly rose out of bed, not even bothering to change his taco sauce-stained clothes, before heading out for breakfast. The diner down the street from his apartment was famous for its low prices but large portions making it a perfect place for Dylan to go in his current state. He seated himself heavily at the bar. The rubenesque waitress waddled over quickly, her pad at the ready.

“What are ya ha-“she almost said, cut off by Dylan’s order.

“Eggs…6 scrambled. Bacon…pound…” he said, in broken speech.

“You…okay, hun?” concern crossed the waitresses jovial demeanor.

“I…Pancakes…double stack…He didn’t…put….Sausage…8 links…it away!!”  

       Dylan struggled to explain as his order continued to flow. The waitress just looked at him, puzzled, before taking his check to the cook. Minutes later, she returned carrying a massive tray filled with everything he had ordered. No more had she set it down and Dylan was already making short work of it. Tastes merged in his mouth as he ate far too quickly to appreciate the flavor of any one thing. Smoky bacon, sweet maple syrup, buttery pancake, all danced across his tongue before being broken down into building blocks for more fat to cover his body. The meal itself lasted only a half hour, before he threw down his money and left. The full feeling following his gorges seemed to grant Dylan a moment of respite from his inner hunger, allowing him to think clearly for a time. He needed to find Connor. He needed to get him to say the trigger to free him from this. And so, he began to hurry back home, hoping that he could appeal to his friend’s sense of decency. Hoping that this was all just a big joke. Signing onto Skype provided him with an unavailable icon under Connor’s name. The same result followed from every site he checked. Eventually he resorted to leaving a message for him, begging to be released from the crippling bonds of hunger gripping his mind.

     No response would come from Connor. Every day that passed, Dylan sunk deeper and deeper into his own head. Somehow, he still managed to get by in school, but his grades had slipped considerably. Able to think straight only on a full stomach, Dylan was forced to stuff himself several times a day just to be able to perform well enough to barely pass. He now spent the majority of his time horking down mass quantities of food in the dining hall. In the first week of his uncontrolled gluttony, his friends tried to help him, questioning his behavior, trying to tell him to stop, but all they would receive from him were angry snarls and the occasional mumblings about putting something away. Out of fear or disgust, they began to leave him to his own fattening devises.

     The toll his unbridled gluttony was taking on his body was immense. Being constantly filled to the brim with food had stretched Dylan’s stomach further and further with each passing day, necessitating an ever-increasing amount of food. 10,000 calories a day, which had once a nearly unattainable goal for him, was now accounted for after two meals. Many days he would near 20,000. Dylan knew enough of about nutrition to know that 3500 calories would add a pound of fat to his body and simple division told him that these 20K days would add almost 5 pounds a day. The 15 pounds that he had lost came back in the first week. The clothes Dylan had purchased as a reward for his weight loss were now comically small, especially considering that being stuffed to bursting pushed his stomach out into a massive spherical mound, unable to be completely concealed by shirts that had fit perfectly only a week earlier. His sleep schedule began to suffer as well as at least twice a night he would wake to seizing pains in his stomach as it roared out to be stuffed again. The emergency credit card his parents had given him was becoming inundated with charges from fast food joints.

     By the end of the month, he had become almost unrecognizable. In the past 4 weeks, he had packed on a massive 100 pounds onto his 185 pound body. His slightly rounded chest had become a full set of moobs with big round nipples, red from being stretched so big so quickly. They sat atop his massive sphere of a gut like two blobs of jelly. His belly button was the only impression in the otherwise unbroken curve of his gut. His butt and thighs had long outgrew his jeans, and even the oversized basketball shorts, the only thing that fit anymore, could barely contain there girth. He hadn’t taken any time to buy new clothes, thanks to devoting so much off it to eating, so anywhere that he went, he did so in shirts that barely concealed his man tits, let alone, his gut. Bright red stretch marks covered his once unblemished skin, making his huge round body look like a gigantic blood shot eyeball. The enormity of his gut, combined with the constant over-full feeling, gave him the waddling gait of a woman 8 months into pregnancy. He did nothing to hide the gas that his body produced as it digested enough food for a family of five on a daily basis. In his few moments of clarity, Dylan would frantically search for Connor, leaving him message after message, begging him for help. Connor’s silence remained unbroken.

     By the time that Thanksgiving break rolled around, Dylan was on the brink of being asked to leave the university. His grades had fallen to an all-time low and he was becoming a major disruption in his classes. His nearly constant flow of farts and belches managed to fill entire lecture halls with his stench, resulting in a slew of complaints from other students. His near lack of clothing had become an issue as well, now having outgrown even his shorts. In either an act of pity or of desire to no longer see his disgusting body, several other students had pooled money to buy him an oversized pair of sweat pants and a massive t-shirt. As he prepared himself for the short road trip to his parents’ house, the sweats which had once been tent-like on him were now more reminiscent of sausage casings, struggling desperately to hold together around his lard. He opened the door of his car, a now-tiny-in-comparison Civic, and hefted his mass in. The car shook and groaned as his massive ass met the seat. A loud honk blared from the front of the car as his gut pressed up against the steering wheel. He desperately grappled with his fat hand to find the seat release. Pulling it, he slid back as far as he could, his gut now just brushing the bottom of the wheel. He pulled his other leg into the car and pulled the door closed. It bounced instead off of his love handle, sending a rippling through his body. Taking a deep breath his struggled to adjust himself, finally managing to squeeze the door closed against his fat. He had been sure to eat before leaving, hoping he could buy himself just enough time to get home.

      Dylan managed to make it through 45 minutes of the hour long drive before his stomach was once again beginning to rumble. To his stomach great pleasure, there was a burger place at the next exit. He pulled through the drive thru and made an astonishingly large order. The handsome guy working the window gave him a look of abject disgust as he slowly handed three full bags to him. The look only became more deeply ingrained as Dylan fished his credit care, slicked in a coating of fry grease from the pocket of his sweats and handed it to the man. The final nail in the coffin was the fact that as the man handed the card back, Dylan was already face-deep in the first bag. He didn’t bother to get back on the highway, instead just pulling into one of the parking lots, now absolutely focused on eating. He rested the bag on his table of a gut and just shoved the food into his fat face. Bits of cheese and burger became stuck in the splotchy unkempt beard he had grown over the past few months, too scared to try shaving. In a manner of minutes, far faster than any human being should be able to eat, Dylan had finished the greasy glory and got back on the road.

     It wasn’t long before he was pulling into the driveway of his parents’ house. The multitude of cars parked nearby meant that the majority of his extended family was already present. A few of his younger cousins were playing football in the front yard. They stopped as soon as the saw him, sweaty and huffing from the effort of just exiting his car. He waddled slowly up the walk, stopping for a breather halfway there. He looked back up to see a kindly older man in a sweater with a turkey on it. Some part of his mind recognized the man as his father.

“Do you need some help, sir?” his dad asked, unaware that the wheezing pile of lard in front of him was his own flesh and blood.

“Dad….huff….its….huff….me….Dylan!”

“Is this some sort of joke?” his father’s kindly countenance was now awash in confused anger.

“No…Dad…it…huff…me…UUUUURRRRPPPPP!!! You’ve gotta…huff…help me! He….he didn’t put it away!” Dylan blubbered out.

“Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, or what kind of sick game you’re playing, but you’ve got five minutes to waddle your fat ass back to your car before I call the cops.” His father pointed sternly in the direction of the vehicle. Shock crossed his dad’s face as he no doubt realized that it was Dylan’s car he was pointing to. “Where…where did you get that car?!?!”

“Dad…It’s really me, please!! Unnnghhh,” Dylan clutched his massive gut with his chubby hands as a pang of hunger shot through him, “Please…you…you gotta feed me! Come on, you …you got any food?! I’m…getting…hungry! Unnnnghhh…”

“That does it, I’m calling the cops, you fucking sicko. What have you done with my son?!”

     Dylan managed to maintain his composure enough to realize that he needed to get out of there fast. Waddling as fast as his chaffing thighs would allow, he crashed back into the driver seat of the car. As fast as he could, he was back out on the road outside the house that had once been his home. A sudden vibration went through his thunder thighs as his phone rumbled in his pocket. He pulled off to the side of the road and began digging the device from his tight pocket. His strained heart gave a jump when he saw that it was a message from Connor.

“Meet me in a half hour. “

     An address followed. Dylan typed the address into his GPS app as quickly as his chubby finger would allow. It brought up a buffet restaurant in the next town up the highway. He set the phone into the console and began to drive. The trip was just long enough for the pangs he had felt back at home to intensify into a roaring hunger. He sat in his car outside the buffet for a few minutes, trying to steel himself for what was to come. Only then did he begin the slow waddle to the door. He told the languid hostess that he was there to meet up with someone and she waved him on. The trip past the tables full of steaming food felt like the longest journey of his entire life. It just all smelled so good! But he had to resist. He couldn’t let himself go hog wild anymore. Hehe, hog wild, he thought to himself. He looked away from the temptation, searching the small space for any sign of Connor. There was hardly anyone in the dim space, and certainly no one who looked like Connor.  Well…maybe just a little bit..while I wait. Just a small bit. He WAS so hungry after all.   By the time two of the buffet’s cheap chairs were filled with Dylan’s more than ample buttocks, he had piled a plate impossibly full with rich foods: mac and cheese, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, stuffing. Everything blurred together in a calorie-laden slop as he began to shovel it into his mouth with haste. Halfway through, he looked up from his plate to see that he was no longer alone.

“Well…I can’t say I’m surprised,” Connor said, the same iciness permeated his voice as on the day he had left Dylan to his fate.

“Connnow!” Dylan exclaimed through a mouthful of food.

“I see you’ve lost your manners along with your self-control. But I see you’ve gained quite a bit in other department.”

“Please…Connor…let me stop…Why..why??”

The iciness of Connor’s voice disappeared, replaced with fiery passion.

“Because you thought you could just cast me off like some sort of piece of trash! Is that all I ever was to you?! Did all of that just mean nothing to you?! I loved you, you stupid pig! That’s why I did this to you! Now no one wants you. Not even your family. I’m all you have left now.”

“No….no…I..can change!”

“You can’t hypnotize someone to do something that they don’t already want to do. All of this, everything that’s happened since has been because a deep, dark part of you wants this for you. This is what you’ve always wanted. And I helped you achieve it!”

“No! I…I wanna be thin…and…and hot!”

“Sigh…I had really hoped that this time would’ve helped you realize that I’m right. Even if I did release you now, do you really think you could lose all that weight? Do you really think you could keep it off? And even if you did, you grew so fast that you’ve stretched your skin out beyond repair. If you somehow managed to lose weight, you’d look like a deflated balloon, a freak. Is that what you want?”

“I…I..”

“Face it. This. THIS is what you’re meant to be! Admit that and I’ll release you. And then you can come back with me and be my big fat gainer boyfriend. I’ll take good care of you. Please…Dylan…I…really do love you.”

     Dylan just stared at Connor. All of his rage and bravado seemed to have melted away, leaving himself open and vulnerable. Part of him wanted to leave with Connor. It wanted him to live with Connor and be his growing pile of blubber. That same side of him shoved another bite from the plate into his mouth.

“Connor…I…I…If you really loved me…you wouldn’t have done this to me… You’re…a monster…”

Connor sat silent for several moments. When he finally spoke it was with an icy edge that could have cut glass.

“No. I was your salvation. I could have been your savior, but you’ve cast it all away. And now there’s nothing to do but embrace your damnation. We could have lived together in love, but now we’ll be together in bondage. There’s one more trigger I had hoped to never use. This whole time, the pig has been out, but your conscious mind has been too. What do you think would happen if that were to go away? How fucking fat do you think you’d be if the pig was in total control?”

“Connor…no…you can’t! You wouldn’t! Please!”

“Let’s see who the real monster is. Dylan in.”

     A strange feeling flooded through Dylan upon hearing these words. It was as if he was suddenly falling, or floating, or even flying. He could still see Connor and his surroundings, but now he felt no connection to any of it. It was as if he was a mere spectator, watching as his hands moved of their own accord, abandoning the use of silverware in favor of scooping the food straight into his mouth. He could taste the food, but only as if he was remembering the taste, not fully experiencing it. He continued to watch as his body, no longer his own, pulled itself up and waddled to the buffet tables and, having abandoned all regard for decency, began to stuff his face directly from the steamer trays. Crumbs tumbled down the front of his strained shirt, creating a mess all around him. Dylan’s consciousness slowly began to drift off. It was like falling asleep while watching TV late at night. And once again, he was falling…falling. *************** “Dylan Out. Pig In.”

     For the first time in what seemed at the same time an eternity and a brief moment, Dylan could think clearly. His eyes opened and he saw as himself, in control of his own body again. He stared up at the white ceiling above him. He reached his arm to his eye to rub away the sleep….or he tried to. His hands must have been bound in some way that prevented them from reaching his face. He tried to raise himself into a sitting position, but that, too, seemed impossible. It felt like his entire being was encased in something, weighing him down in place. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even though he had done hardly anything to strain it. He felt warm and sweaty, like he was in some sort of intensely tropical climate. Even taking a breath felt like he was pulling air through a pillow pressed against his face. He laid there as a massive burst of flatulence rolled out of his body, seemingly beyond his control. It sent vibrations throughout his mass, as if he were floating on choppy water. He tried to move his head to look around, but it too, was bound in place.

“Welcome back, Dylan. Ready to see yourself for what you truly are??”

     He knew who the voice belonged to, but he couldn’t seem to remember just yet. A metallic whirring sound began as he started to feel his back being pushed up. The massive bariatric bed he rested on was slowly being lifted into a seated position. As he rose up, most of his vision was occupied by the bulging pink curves of his flesh. After the bed struggled for several minutes, he was finally upright for the first time in months. Facing a huge mirror, he could scarcely recognize the formless naked blob in front of him. He looked nothing like he remembered himself, but gaining 1000 pounds will do that to a person.

       Most of the mirror’s silver surface was taken up by his giant pile of stomach rolls. Each was streaked with bright red stretch marks and coated in a sheen of greasy sweat. A deep cave-like impression marked the place that once been his belly button. They cascaded over each other and spread out, pressing up against the bars on either side of the bed. He could just barely make out his legs, now completely and utterly useless, smothered below the lowest curve of his gut. He could feel the weight of his belly on his legs all the way down to his ham-like calves. Even his feet looked as if they had been cartoonishly inflated. Flanking either side of his swollen torso were the curves of two massive ass cheeks, each one hanging over the edge of the bed he was resting upon. Piled high atop those were love handles that could’ve served as handholds for an entire orgy of lovers. His belly was crowned by two massive sacs of lard with nipples that were so stretched out that they had almost faded to blend in with the rest of the surrounding flesh. Rolls crowded both above and below his massive accumulation of breast blubber, further distorting his apparent humanity.

     A sudden itch on his nose caused him to once again attempt to move his arms, each now weighing as much as his entire body had before. Despite being pushed out nearly to a 90 degree angle by the huge sacs of blubber that rested atop his even larger moobs, his arms felt as if they were made of lead and came short of spanning the vast width of his gelatinous body. He could barely even bend his sausage-like fingers as he struggled to reach toward his face.  At least he assumed the face in the mirror was his own. It looked like a stranger’s. His eyes looked as if they were being squished between the roll of fat that had formed on his forehead and the puffy cheeks below. A large scraggly beard had grown over the rest of his face, hiding the bloated features beneath. Lower, his fuzzy chins piled up in concentric circles of lard, giving him the look of having no neck at all. The struggle of just trying to move his arms was sending his heart racing again and his skin was suddenly pumping out more and more sweat. His whole body would jiggle wildly with each tiny, weak movement, eliciting nervous creaks from the bed. He tried to speak, but his breathing was so strained that he could scarcely make out one word before desperately having to suck in another shallow breath.

“……(Huff)…No!…(Huff)….What….(Huff)…have….(Huff)…you….” He struggled to say.

“…done to you? I haven’t done anything but let you turn yourself into the fat monster that you always were deep inside. You did this to yourself. “

     Cold fear began to grip Dylan, sending his heart rate even further into the red zone. As it raced, he could hear a beeping in sync with it. It was then he noticed the heart monitor and IV next to his bed. In fact, from what he could see, the whole room had the feeling of a hospital room.

“Is it finally coming together now, big guy? I’m sure the memories will come back soon enough, but I’m not a patient man. After the buffet, which by the way, you managed to eat two-thirds of before the police arrived to bounce you out, I took you home with me. You really put me through my paces, I must say. I could hardly buy food fast enough as you just devoured so much each day! Thank goodness your legs eventually gave out and let me regulate your feedings more! If I hadn’t been convinced before, the way you blew up over the last months has confirmed that you really are meant for this. I took care of you all that time, until a week ago, after your fourth meal of the day, I noticed your breathing getting pained and a pained look on your face. You had a heart attack. Luckily, I was there to call the paramedics. It’s a good thing that I had made your room out in the garage, or they would’ve never gotten you out in time! Oh, man, you really should have seen it! They had to use a forklift to lift you and your mattress right into the ambulance. For a minute, I didn’t think the suspension would hold out.

     Imagine what your family and friends must have thought when you, missing and believed dead, were suddenly on the news, a giant naked blob being loaded into a truck like some common cargo. Imagine more so the shock on their faces upon hearing that you weighed in at over 1500 pounds. So very close to the record! But most of all, imagine what it must have felt like, when they came to visit and found you unwilling to acknowledge them. This time, you were the one not to recognize them. No amount of desperate pleas could force you to speak to them. Instead you wasted what little breath you could on grunting and begging anyone and everyone to bring you food. I can still remember seeing the tears streaming down your face as you hungered so. Maybe that’s why they called of the search for whoever did this to you. They really don’t care what happens to you anymore.

     Lucky for you, this hospital has a very well-staffed psychology department and they’ve even assigned a hypnotherapist to your case to assuage your desires for food.” A mischievous glint appeared in Connor’s icy blue eyes.

“(Huff)….You!…(Huff)”

“Yes. Me. You’ll be seeing plenty of me. Now, I could just make you go back away and let the pig eat yourself to death, but I want you to feel it. I want you to feel trapped in the prison of your body. I want you to feel the pounds keep piling on. Now, I brought a little ‘exposure therapy.’”

     Connor motioned to box full of fast food bags and an entire cake. A small part of Dylan wanted to stop, a small part knew that  he was approaching the point of no return. A much larger part knew that he had shot a thick load into his cavernous fat pad twice during Connor’s monologue. That part was winning out, opening Dylan’s mouth wide as Connor brought a large greasy burger to his watering mouth. He realized it now. His inner pig was no longer just inner. It was part of him, or rather…he was part of it, and it was time to feed the beast.

“Eat up, big guy. That record isn’t going to break itself.”

—————-

Any resemblance to real persons or situations is purely coincidental.

Wow I got carried away with this. Thought about his feeder grinding against him and pushing him over the edge. I’ll have y’all know that this one is feedee approved even. I’m very happy with it’s turnout

Golden Handcuffs

This is a story that I wrote for a buddy of mine. Hopefully you all like it as much as he did!

———————————————-

It had started with a single message on a website. The message itself was harmless, but the intentions behind it were far from that. Bruce had opened it with the same casual clicking with which he had already opened 30 other messages that day. Despite the toll of time that it took, Bruce saw it as sort of a duty to answer all the messages that he received on the site. Something struck him about this particular message, however, for the subject line, usually left blank, was filled in with the words: “A Weighty Proposal.” His curiosity piqued, Bruce began to read the message, his excitement growing as particular words seem top jump right on the screen: …great gaining…moderately wealthy…love to help with food expenses. A knotted feeling began to take hold of Bruce’s stomach as he began to think about accepting aide from this stranger.

He began to think about how hard he had been trying for the past year to gain weight. Despite having made some appreciable progress, Bruce still wanted more. At 6’7” and the scale reading just over 300 pounds, Bruce was not small by normal standards, but by his own he felt incredibly tiny. And so he ate, and ate, and ate. Multiple trips to McDonalds a day was now commonplace, but even considering the affordable faire, money was still a little tight. Having someone to supply food for him would come as a great boon, even if it did seem a little salacious in nature. And so Bruce typed his address and clicked the button labelled “Reply.” Leaning back from the desk, Bruce placed his hands on his beginner belly and began to rub it, absent-mindedly dreaming of the possibilities now available to him. He could almost see himself at his goal: a 500 pound tower of flab. He was snapped out of his reverie to the sound of his stomach rumbling.

“All of this sitting around has gone and got you hungry, huh?” he cooed to his belly.

Bruce pulled his truck up to the second window, accepting the bag of greasy food from the melancholy teen within. The smell was practically ecstatic anymore, his preference for fast food now nearly an addiction. The receipt, accounting for the 4 McChickens, large shake, large coke, and apple pie joined myriad others on the floorboards of the truck. And so began Bruce’s third meal that day as he drove, mouth constantly being stuffed with fast food, back to his apartment. Tossing the bag full of empty sandwich carcasses in the dumpster out front, he slowly sauntered to the door. A sudden glint in the limited light caught his eye as he went for the knob. A shiny black envelope had been wedged into knocker. Bruce grabbed the envelope, his greasy hands making the sleek paper feel all the more slick. Flipping open the envelope, he was created by the sight of a letter, handwritten in an elegant hand, and a gift card. Bruce eagerly read over the short note:

“Salutations,

                I take it this note finds you well and, perhaps, well-fed. I’m ever so glad that you decided to take me up on my offer to help with your gaining endeavor! As such, enclosed you will find a gift card to McDonalds (I seem to remember you mentioning that as your favorite). I have already loaded $50 onto it. See to it that you spend it well! After all, the sooner you spend it all, the sooner I can load another $50 onto it!

                                                                                                                                Have a splendid time feasting!”

Bruce’s jaw had dropped as he read, bunching up his modest amount of chin fat.

“Fif…fifty?!” he thought aloud, in shock. He had expected maybe enough for one meal, but the grandeur of this gentleman’s generosity was beginning to overwhelm him. He…he couldn’t except this…could he? Well…wouldn’t it be rude…not to? Bruce unlocked the door and walked up to his room. He stripped down, readying for bed. Watching himself in the mirror, he gave his moderate belly a quick jiggle, watching it undulate up and down. He knew he wanted for, and he knew that he would have a hard time affording it on his own. Maybe…maybe he should… Sliding into bed, Bruce decided that perhaps it would be something to think about in the morning.

The next day, as per usual, Bruce was pulling through the drive-thru. A heavy bag of hashbrowns, McMuffins, and McGridles was handed through the window by the usual morning fast food lackey, and Bruce, in turn, handed her the gift card. He had finally come around to the idea of taking the man up on his offer last night as he lay in bed. Staring up at the ceiling, Bruce slowly began to imagine that he was taking up the entire bed. He imagined that his body had grown so bloated with excess lard that every inch of the mattress was blanketed in blubber. He could almost actually feel the weight of his imaginary girth. It was at that moment that he could not stand it any longer, he immediately reached below the sheets and grabbed onto his already erect cock. Feeling his flab shake with each pump, he finally collapsed in bliss, the image of him a massive pile of blubber imprinted vividly in his psyche. The thought both aroused and terrified Bruce. While he loved the idea of one day becoming such a behemoth, the loss of certain extracurricular activities seemed too great a loss. He was, after all, a single man in his 20’s and jerking off was a regular event 3, 4, 5 times a day. He would take the man’s offer and ride it just as far as he could still reach.

The fast food tasted all the sweeter just for someone else paying for it, which was perfect considering that Bruce had taken it upon himself to double his usual order. The food disappeared nearly as fast as it had appeared, all of it having been deposited into his swollen belly before Bruce’s shoes hit the ground outside of the massage parlor where he worked. The work day was filled with thoughts about the next McDonald’s binge. Visions of McChickens and McNuggets were dancing in Bruce’s head as he took his usual lunch break, and, again, as he finished up his shift. By the time he collapsed at home on his bed, Bruce had ingested $30 worth of delicious fatty fast food. His gut gurgled contentedly as it digested the day’s bounty. Bruce just gave it a hardy pat and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Bruce’s gluttony soon began to take over throughout the course of the rest of that week. What had begun as stretching his limits to eat $30 of food per day was rapidly approaching eating through nearly the whole $50 in a single day. Weight was beginning to practically pile onto his body as he gained nearly a pound a day. On Sunday night, when he returned home after work, Bruce noticed a small box on the ground outside his apartment. It was wrapped in the same sleek black paper as the original envelope had been. Curious, he unwrapped it to reveal a pair of gold hoops that appeared to be bracelets. Bruce held them up to the light, basking in their resplendent glow. Unsure of what else to do with them, Bruce snapped the two rings onto his wrists. They actually didn’t look half-bad, he thought to himself. Out of nowhere, a sharp pain emanated from his skin on both wrists. It was almost like he was being pinched by the bracelets. Bruce’s right hand immediately shot to the clasp of the left bangle, but his fingers could find no purchase on the smooth gold ring. Additionally, each attempt to turn or twist the hoop itself seemed to tug on his skin. The bracelets were without a doubt fixed to his arms now. Bruce’s panicked thoughts were interrupted by a text alert from his phone. Scrambling to grab it from his pocket, Bruce saw that it was from an unknown number. Once opened, the text read:

 “Hope you like the presents I bought you, Pig. That’s what you are, after all, right? My PIG. “

“What the hell are these things?” Bruce typed back. He was beginning to get an aching feeling somewhere behind his belly, a usual sign that he had not gratified himself in a while. Despite this, his dick remained unusually soft.

“Oh, poor Piggy, I should explain. You see, the company I own is a pharmaceutical corporation. These rings pack a potent supply of two of the drugs that were developed in one of our…more secretive departments. One drug functions on the brain by really kick-starting the arousal centers. In short, it enhances sex drive. Sometimes we sell it to older couples looking to relight passion’s fleeting flame. The second drug is sort of the opposite. The trade name on it is ‘Chastity.’ It blocks the sympathetic nervous system in such a way that it makes it absolutely impossible for one’s penis to become erect. We developed it as an alternative to all that nasty business about castration for pedophiles and such. We’ve also marketed it to a few recovering “sex addicts.” Unfortunately…the half-lives of these drugs are on the order of mere seconds… Which means that they only work when directly infused. And THAT’S the reason for the bracelets! Essentially, you’ll be so horny that you can hardly think, but absolutely unable to do anything about it! Oh, but don’t worry, Piggy, these bands have a special attachment in them, a radio transceiver. With that, I can control the flux of drug into you bloodstream, or rather, I’ve set up a program to do it for me. There is only one key to unlock the invisible lock on your manhood, Piggy, and that’s your own gluttony. Whenever the balance on the card I gave you reaches $0, the bracelets will cease the drug infusion and you will regain control of your…parts. However, as soon as I reload the card, and the balance becomes non-zero, the drug will kick in again. Happy eating, Piggy!”

Bruce’s stomach was aflood in feelings at this point. The pain of horniness, the pangs of fear, and the warmth of fullness all blended together in a strange waltz of sensations. Bruce could hardly contain the lust that he was now experiencing. He needed to do something! Now! He fumbled through his pockets to find the last receipt. He scanned it until he finally saw: “Balance remaining: 10 dollars.” He couldn’t throw his jacket on and jump into his truck fast enough, and soon he was speeding off toward the closest golden arches. The glow of the streetlights glinted off his golden shackles as he drove, a little too fast. Pulling up to the speaker box, he didn’t even wait for the usual banal greeting to start ordering.

“I…I…unnnhh..I NEED a large fry, 3 McChickens , a large shake, and…uhhh…uhh….a 20 piece nugget.”

“That’ll be 10.10 at the….” Bruce didn’t bother to wait for the rest before pulling up.

He handed the bleary-eyed man the gift card along with a dime from the cup holder much faster than necessary. The man slid the card through the machine and handed it back to Bruce. The bag of food followed closely after. It had only been nearly half a minute, but Bruce could already feel a stiffness beginning to form in his pants. He tried to block out the horniness by beginning on the food, but eating only had the effect of turning him on even more. Pulling into the parking lot of a long-abandoned K-Mart, Bruce threw the truck into park and unzipped his pants with one hand while mowing down on a McChicken in the other. It took hardly anytime at all for him to blow, shooting all over the front of his pants. He rezipped himself, looking over to see that in the haze of horniness, he had actually eaten all of the food. Managing to contain himself until finally arriving home, Bruce ran inside, crashing straight into bed. One final wank and he was out like a light.

The next morning, Bruce awoke to the familiar pit in his stomach aching for sustenance both physical and nutritional. Instinctively his had reached down to his crotch, only to find it completely limp. He rolled over, grabbing his phone off the night stand. He saw a text from an automated service reading:

“Reload complete. Current balance: $50.” The stranger had already reloaded the card with another fifty…

From that point, Bruce’s life turned into a whirlwind of eating, masturbating, and eating more. As the days progressed, he forced himself to go from spending 30 dollars a day, to attempting to spend the entirety of the 50 dollar allotment. It was agony to go longer than 24 hours without sexual release. The growing length of the receipts at each stop meant that Bruce was ingesting an unimaginable number of calories on a daily basis. With nearly 10,000 calories a day being pumped into him, Bruce’s weight was quickly getting out of hand. Milestones that should have taken weeks were passing in mere days. Weighing himself at the end of the week as usual, Bruce was pleasantly shocked to see a gain of 8 pounds since he had accepted the man’s offer. The weekly weigh-in was usually the time that Bruce became most aroused, but, this time, there was nothing.

“What the hell?! I …I spent all fifty today…why?” Bruce checked his phone. A missed alert from 20 minutes prior informed him that the balance had been reloaded .  Bruce pounded his fat fist on the sink. That jerk had reloaded it before the day was over! He wouldn’t be able to jack it until tomorrow night… The pain in Bruce’s abdomen pulsed again, begging for release, but there was nothing that he could do except start a cold shower running, the icy sting momentarily relieving the burning in his loins.

As the weeks passed, Bruce’s weight climbed higher and higher. Soon he had gained over 50 pounds, leaving him at a solid 360. His work clothes had become painfully tight twice over the past month. The second time he was handed a 5XL and told that should that ever become too small, he should find work elsewhere. Following with the widening of his waist, Bruce was becoming an eating machine. By the end of the month, it was not uncommon for Bruce to hit the zero balance after his lunch binge. This afforded him a brief window of time in which to drive back to work and bring himself one fleeting orgasm. It was becoming increasingly difficult to dig under his ever expanding gut flab to find his dick. Hefting his gut onto the steering wheel was the only way to really get the angle quite right, resulting in one or two unfortunate blares of his horn.

Bruce didn’t realize it, but the reloads on the card were beginning to come faster and faster. The window was rapidly closing. And then, one day, the shutters finally slammed. Bruce took his lunch break as usual. Hauling his hefty body into his truck was becoming harder and harder as his weight neared 400 pounds. He made his usual order, zeroing out the card balance. Driving off, Bruce began to lift up his huge gut, eager to get off as was his daily ritual. His hand navigated into his pubic fat, grasping onto what little bit of his penis he could still reach. It was strangely soft. Bruce let a worried moan leave his mouth.

“But…it…I spent it all…” he thought to himself. Just then, his phone vibrated, sending ripples through his generous bulk. He struggled to extricate his hand from his pants before awkwardly maneuvering the phone from his pocket.

“Balance reloaded. Current balance: $1,000.”

Bruce’s head began to spin. O-..one thousand?! How…how could he… He’d been eating 50 dollars a day, but even at that rate…He didn’t think he could last for a whole 20 days! Not knowing what else to do, Bruce began to furiously stuff his lunch into his mouth. The massive influx of sustenance did little to quell the burning desire for release pent up inside him, but he knew that if he ever wanted to cum again, this was the only way. The rest of the day was spent trying to ignore his unquenchable urges, the entire time daydreaming about all of the food that he would need to eat to bring the balance down. Trying to formulate a plan gave Bruce a sudden feeling of clarity despite his predicament.

And so the days went, each one beginning with an increasing amount of sexual unrest, and each one ending as Bruce’s body collapsed heavier and heavier on his bed in a food coma. He was doing a surprisingly good job of attempting to spend the surplus of cash that had been thrust upon him, eating almost a quarter of the balance in the first four days. Bruce could think of little more than food at this point, always stuffing his face or staring off into the distance thinking about it. Luckily, just as before, the more he ate, the more his capacity to eat increased, allowing Bruce to speed up his spending. Finally it happened. After work exactly 2 weeks from when it had started, he spent the final dollar. Not wanting to waste any time, Bruce sped home, munching voraciously on dinner as he went. He ran upstairs and threw off his clothes, which at his size, now took a little bit longer than it had almost 200 pounds ago. He could feel his cock, finally free of its chemical shackles, rising to attention. He quickly grabbed his gut with one hand and began to reach for his waiting member. His hands fell just at the top of his pubic roll.

“What the hell?! Why..can’t…I…reach?!” he shouted aloud, sweat forming on his brow as he willed his hand to go farther. But farther it could not go. The irony was not lost on Bruce as he lay there, sweat dripping down his forehead. He could feel the cool metal of the bracelet on his fat pad as he continued to struggle. Suddenly, a light feeling began to overtake him starting at his head. The room began to dim and suddenly all went dark.

Bruce awoke in the dim light of twilight, lying in a strange bed. His body was spread eagle, allowing his large gut to settle between his ponderous thighs. He could feel the softness of the sheets on the bottom of his gut as it grazed their velvety fabric. The familiar hunger was still there, and, surprisingly so was his erection. Whatever had happened, the man had still not reloaded the card! Bruce once again to desperately paw at his underbelly…or…he WOULD have, if he still had the ability to move his arms. It seemed that his wrists and ankles were bound with invisible restraints, making it impossible for him to move from his current position.

“Don’t try too hard. It’ll only give you a headache,“ Came a voice from the shadowy corner of the twilit room. Bruce’s eyes were not adjusted to the gathering darkness just yet, making the figure seem almost ethereal.

“You see, I MAY have neglected to tell you of all the chemicals that those glorious rings contain. You’re currently experiencing the fourth drug, a potent neurotoxin which blocks the motor neurons associated with your arms and legs. Essentially, you’re paralyzed, hence why trying to move isn’t such a grand idea. The third drug was the sedative that knocked you out so I could get you to come here with me. Let’s play a little game now. There are five drugs total chambered in those lovely shackles of yours. I’ve already done you the courtesy of telling you what four of them are. Can you guess what the final drug is?” The man seemed to be getting too much enjoyment out of this.

“I…I don’t know man… Can’t I just go home?! Take the bracelets off!” A budding pool of distress was beginning to stir in the emotional soup of Bruce’s psyche, mingling with the hunger and arousal in a strange dance.

“Aw, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. I’ll make you a deal. Once the fifth drug is injected, the bracelets will immediately detach. Actually that is the only way that they can ever be removed. Pretty ingenious, huh? Of course, I guess we COULD always just leave you in your current state…”

The seed of distress was slowly blooming into a flower of terror within Bruce’s mind. “No! I…I’ll take the drug! I..I wanna be free…”

“Very well then…you should start feeling the effects right about…”

And darkness.

In the darkness, Bruce dreamt of himself. He was floating in an open space. Above him stretched a beautiful night sky, filled to the brim with twinkling stars. Below him stretched the same night sky, but without a single light, an obsidian void. From somewhere unknown, a desire grew within his heart to reach up and touch the stars. He slowly began to kick his large legs, shaking his flabby body in the process. Each kick seemed to propel him closer to the cosmos, as if he were swimming through the air. Gradually, the kicking became more and more difficult. Each stroke was beginning to require more and more effort, exhausting Bruce. Soon, it was taking all of the swimming that he could manage just to retain his place in space. The heavy sinking feeling continued to grow, and Bruce began to watch the stars slowly growing farther and farther out of the reach of his chubby hands, as he sank into the inky darkness. As the blackness consumed him, he suddenly awoke.

The room was now pitch black, making Bruce unsure if he was awake or still dreaming. However, the same voice returned, assuring Bruce that this was, indeed, reality. Bruce still felt similar to how he had before, hungry, horny, and unable to move

“Oh good, you’re awake. I’ve been waiting. Well, I’m sad to say, that this is where we part ways. You’re totally free now. The bracelets have done their job. At least let me give you one last favor.

Slowly, an image began to appear in the air in front of Bruce. It had a silvery sheen to it, much like an image reflected in a pool of still water. Gradually, the tone of flesh began to fill the image as it became more and more illuminated. As Bruce’s eyes began to adjust, he could begin to make out the borders of the vast flesh-toned mass. It looked almost, humanoid, but no human he had ever seen could occupy so much space. The first object to appear was the distorted belly button on a massive bell apron. Judging by how low the belly hung and by how far out it stuck, the cavern formed by the button seemed like it could go on forever. Next, two large darker toned circles, nearly the size of saucers appeared. As the rest of the features became illuminated, Bruce realized that these were the impossibly large nipples on an even more impossibly sized pair of breasts. At this point it was hard to make a guess whether they were male or female. They spread in one gigantic mass across the chest of the specter before him. Beneath the belly, he could begin to make out shapes that at one point must have been this creature’s legs. They looked to be the size of barrels, offering hardly any amount of mobility at all. To the sides of these structures appeared two massive globes of flesh, each nearly the size of another barrel laid on its side. This, he realized, must be the posterior of the figure, pressed outward by the supporting structure below. Above these rested two massive love handles and atop those were a collection of other rolls of fat, each slightly smaller than the last, giving the illusion that the blubber was actually flowing down the figure’s sides. Two arms appeared, looking too bloated with lard to be useful in even the most basic task. He saw too that the shiny sheen of the form was due in part to the individual being covered in sweat. The revelation seemed to pause at this moment.

“Alright, man….(huff)…” Bruce tried to speak, but his voice…sounded different somehow, any trace of a higher lilt gone, replaced by a deep, almost guttural growl. He noticed that breathing, too, was much harder than he remembered it being.

“Why can’t….(huff)…I move still?! I…(huff) thought you…said…that I could…leave!” Bruce, tried again to will his body to move, but to no avail. Why…why do I still feel so…so hungry…(huff)…and horny?!”

“Ah…perhaps I haven’t been quite so honest with you,” the man said, no trace of any actual remorse. “You see, I lied about there being five drugs in the bracelets. In actuality, there were only four. The chastity, the sedative, the paralyzer, and the final one. There was never any appetite or libido stimulant. That was all you giving in and becoming what you truly are. A fat pig. MY fat pig.”

It was then that the final missing piece appeared, the horribly swollen face of the figure. It seemed familiar to Bruce, as if he had seen it before…but where… The features were so distorted with fat that he could hardly tell it belonged to a male or a female. The nose…something was wrong with the nose… It…looked more like a snout of some animal rather than a human nose. A..pig’s snout… And that’s when it his Bruce. This…was HIS face. This was HIS body!

“What..(huff) did you do to me?!” he wheezed.

“Shut up, Pig. You don’t need to worry about that anymore. I just made you what you truly are. And now you’re free to go. What’s the matter?! Why aren’t you leaving?!” the man gave a mirthful laugh. “What’s the matter, Pig, can’t get up?! Well I guess I’LL just leave then…”

“No! (Huff)…Wait! If…if you…(huff) leave…who will feed me?!” Bruce asked, terrified. His belly, as large as it was, was telling him it needed food. He couldn’t be without it!

“That’s more like it…Now oink for me, Pig.”

Bruce hesitated…and then… “Oink!” he gave in.

“Very good! Now…let me reward you!”

The man stepped over to a tube protruding from the floorboards. He quickly pulled it up and placed it in Bruce’s mouth. In moments, a delicious slurry of butter, cream, and sugar began flowing into Bruce’s mouth. He was so lost in the bliss of feeding that he hardly noticed the man moving closer to his belly. Carefully, the man began to dig through Bruce’s underbelly folds until, finally, he hit pay dirt. Bruce moaned as he felt the man begin to tease him.

“You like that, Pig? Good…good…”

It took mere seconds for Bruce to erupt deep in his folds. He could feel the flab around his crotch becoming sticky with his spent load. Suddenly, his heart seemed to leap in his chest. Pain shot down his arm as the world began to fade to black.

A jolt of electricity brought Bruce back to the world of the living. He gazed bleary-eyed up at his captor.

“No dying on me yet, Pig. You’ve still got a long way to go…”  

Disgusting

Your belly sags heavily over your lap now. Its almost to your knees when you sit in your recliner. Disgusting. Who would have thought a person could eat so much? People wonder how you let yourself get so massive. How you must have spent years upon years eating non stop to grow so fucking huge. You sit there contently gorging away forcing your poor body to take in more calories, carbs, and fat than needed. Your gluttony could feed an army, its sickening. Thats right, just keep guzzling down milkshakes, soda, and more sugary things. Here soon your knees will be buried between your calf fat and disgustingly swollen thighs. Your fat tits are in desperate need of a lift from growing and sagging over your grotesquely bulging gut. Stuff yourself more and more! Push your fat gut even further today. Fill it so full that it hurts to breathe! Sick. Its so sick that you love to be so absolutly filled with food that your belly aches for relief. You’re so pathetic and lazy that you still have crumbs on your shirt from yesterday too, slob. Your underwear is growing way too tight since its now lost between the huge globs of fat you call ass cheeks. Your poor chair has taken so much abuse from your wide hips pressing the arms outward. I can hear it creak every time your huge ass is slammed down onto it that I’m sure it will break at any moment. You love the fact that it is getting harder and harder to wedge yourself out of your chair and onto your feet. Disgraceful. You could be successful, fit, social, and starting a career..but instead all your good for is swallowing pounds upon pounds of food by the handful and being lazy. You’re just a fat, lazy, hog! I can’t wait for your recliner to break under your mass so you can really see the damage of your bad choices. It will really hit when you wake up connected to a heart monitor and a breathing mask. When its too late and you can no longer make decisions for yourself. When you’re stuck and pinned to a large mattress being constantly filled without a choice. Your body so tightly packed full of fat and lard that you can hardly wiggle a finger. Thats when you might regret gaining those first ten pounds. But…you won’t be able to stop will you?