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fatguarddog · 4 months

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You're the heir to the royal family of a kingdom besieged by demons and during a surrender, are offered up to one of the Demon Lords as a prize of battle. Don't worry, he assures you with a warm yet devious smile, you'll soon 'grow' to love your new life with him

You're taken back to his manor and draped in a lavish, yet skimpy outfit, one that really shows off your body and highlights the slight curves of your features. Your new Lord sits you down at a huge banquet table and takes his seat across from you. All manner of succulent and delicious foods are lined up before you, you take a moment to really take in the size of this hulking, handsome demon and assume he must eat like a beast. But when his impish servants are done setting the table, he just brings his elbows onto the table to rest his head in his hands. He smiles at you,

"You've nothing to fear. Eat."

His voice is so commanding. Nervously, you load up your plate with foods that seem the most familiar to you. Roast chicken, potatoes, various vegetables and a bread roll. It's delicious. With the effect the war has had on your kingdom, you can't remember the last time event he royal family could assemble such a sumptuous selection to feast upon... so you end up forgetting yourself a little and eating until you're quite stuffed. You lean back in your chair and graciously thank your Lord for the meal, shyly paying your compliments to the chef

"Good," he smiles wider and snaps his fingers. "Eat."

A surge of warmth courses through your body. With some demonic intervention, everything you'e just eaten rapidly digests within you and you feel hungry again. Your frame even grows a little bit softer, though not enough for you to notice just yet. You blush and oblige his order, you brain trying to rationalise what's happening. A display of dominance, perhaps? Or did he notice how much you were enjoying the food after having had so little for so long and just wanted you to get to enjoy that more? Was something bad coming after this, or was he actually a good demon somehow?

All of your questions seemed to melt away as you dug in to the feast again, this time trying the honey roasted ham, sweet fruits, leg shank and more. Once again you eat until you feel completely stuffed. Once again you thank your Lord for such a wonderful meal... and once again he smiles at you with fiery eyes from across the table, his own plate still empty and untouched,

"Good," another snap of his fingers. "Eat."

That familiar surge of warmth strikes again, but this time you notice how much plumper you look after, especially in your skimpy clothes. You look up at your Lord in shock and confusion, but he just gestures to the food in front of him. You timidly shake your head, yet your stomach growls audibly in the large dining hall

"Perhaps you'd be more in the mood for wine and cheese?" the demon snaps and the feast before you changes to a decadent cheese plate with crackers and dried meats abound. "Or would my royal prize prefer dessert?" Another snap and the table becomes stacked with cakes, pies and pastries alongside jugs filled with custards and creams, all so sweetly mouth watering The look of disbelief doesn't leave your face. Your stomach growls louder, more painfully as your owner laughs

"Better not to ignore your hunger, my dear. It'll be much more pleasurable for you if you just. Eat."

The command rings through you and sends shivers down your spine, you want nothing more than to stuff your face with every dessert in sight. Your hands reach forward greedily and you begin to eat your fill as your Lord looks on, almost lovingly at you

"So good, so obedient, I'm going to like you a lot," he stands and gently makes his way all around the table to your side, his towering form standing behind you, gently rubbing your now slightly pudgy shoulders. "I'll spoil you so much, feast after feast, night after night of pure pleasure to make you into the perfectly fattened up image of hedonism," his hands feels so good and warm on your soft skin as you gorge yourself. "Just think how demoralising it'll be for your kingdom, to see how easily their royal heir fell to demonic corruption... but I must say from a personal standpoint, I do just think you look so beautiful enjoying yourself like this. I'll have a bath ready for us after I think you're done here, there we can really relax and get to know each other, my dear. But for now, please keep eating. I told you you would grow to love it here."

#hutch posts #ok this got away from me but hoo boy #demons #weight gain #magical weight gain #rapid weight gain #stuffing #wg fiction #wg story #queer feedism #queer feedist #corruption kink

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shrubberylogistic · 2 months

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The Story Scale

Here’s all of my Tumblr wg fics, ranked by intensity.

Each has been specially rated between 1 and 10.

Take a pick and be sure to give it a share if you enjoyed it!

Ratings

1, 2: Light, welcoming, positive and affirming! Self-love and a lot of self indulgence…

3, 4, 5: Oooff! Someone’s been eating well. Need, greed, and waking up with a little more to discover.

6, 7, 8: Embarrassment, clothes-ripping, weight-related struggles. The furniture’s creaking, and you’re out of breath…

9, 10: Hard-hitting and humiliating, CNC, ropes and ties, hot and heavy sex.

10+ : The black box. Don’t think about it. Don’t go there. Not if you want to get back up….

Revenge Body

Two Faces (Light)

Table for Two

Thicker Tempo

Shower Thoughts

Double Take

Bathtime

Your Valentine

Bottom Heavy

Long Weekend

Exces$

Christmas Every Day

Plunge

Queendom

Lucky You

Red

Skintight

Midnight Snack

Weight of Your Sins

Fatter

Christmastime

Your Last Game

Pregnant Pause

Waking Up Fat

Pinch

Just For A Day

Steps

The Usual

Girl in the Mirror

Quarantine Kitchen

What Happened

Little Treat

Plunge

Public Stuffing

Pizza Party

Dinner and a Show

Denial

Gainer Shake

The F Word

Zero Self Control

Creak

Under the Desk

When it’s Been a While

Two Faces (Dark)

College Blowout

Orchestra

Boyfriend’s Wardrobe

Taste Test

Feeling Yourself

Bike Shorts

Coached

Not Your Job

Still Fat

Point of View

Blob

Message in the Box

Measuring Tape

Her

Dominated

Hogtied

Funnel Fed

Round Face

Stuck

Pain

Too Fat to Fuck

Scooter

Bound

Immobility

Force Fed

Smile Because It Happened

10+

Bariatric

The Window and the Wall

Hour by Hour

06:00

07:00

08:00

09:00

10:00

11:00

12:00

#weight gain fiction #wg fic #weightgain #wg story #fatgirlstory #girlweightgain #wg #wg kink #wg fiction #weight gain sequence #weight gain kink #weight gain stories #chubby girl stories #shrubberylogistic

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growingstories · 2 months

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Experiment - what do you think? More of these animations?

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain

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extra-stout-stories · 2 months

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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.

#weight gain fiction #wg fiction #gaining weight on purpose #feedist fiction #mutual gaining #wg fic #mutual feeding #immobile #immobility #feeding kink

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epigstolary · 4 months

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Rebound

It has to hurt to see what you look like now. All the shapeless mounds of fat weighing you down, distorting what was, until fairly recently, an average figure. You were so close to getting back to a normal weight, too — years of struggling to come down from a size at which you couldn’t lumber more than a few feet before getting red-faced and breaking out in a sweat. And you did it; somehow, you got yourself small enough to be able to shop in regular clothing stores again, and to not even need to buy their biggest sizes. Everyone was so proud of you. Telling you how good you looked. How much healthier it was to be this size. How much happier you had to be, now that you could move around and be active again. You’d beaten obesity.

Except you hadn’t, had you? Because every diet fails eventually, and fat doesn’t go away. Fat cells shrink when you diet. They quiet down when you restrain your appetite. And then they wait, lurking in that slender body, disguised by loose skin. Waiting for their moment to come back with a vengeance.

You may not even remember what triggered it now — maybe it was a really rough couple of days at work, maybe a relationship disappointment, maybe drama with family or friends. But something made you take two cheat days in a row, just to treat yourself a little and make up for everything crappy you’d had to deal with lately. And that was all it took to wake the monster sleeping inside you.

A couple of cheat days turned into having snacks around that you hadn’t allowed yourself since you started losing weight — because you had things under control, right? Portion sizes started creeping upward again, and fattier, carbier foods started replacing the lean meats and fresh veggies that helped you shed the pounds in the first place — because you lost it before, so you can lose it again if you need to, right? You went easier on yourself, skipping morning walks and trips to the gym with increasing frequency, giving yourself fewer and fewer opportunities to burn all the excess calories you’d started dumping down your throat again — because you were always going to make up for the missed sessions at some point, right? At least, those were the ways you rationalized your backsliding to yourself.

You probably didn’t know this before, but regains are a bitch. Your body’s felt you starving for years — that’s all a diet is, as far as it’s concerned — and now the famine’s over. Food’s abundant again. Time to eat and try to get you ready for the next famine, which it has no way of knowing is never coming, unfortunately for you. Every calorie it can spare from keeping you alive gets absorbed into those fat cells that used to be dormant. The weight packs on faster than it ever went away. And almost before you realize it, your puffy belly is back, your ass is filling up more of your pants, and your thunder thighs and double chin are beginning to make their appearance.

I’m sure you tried to get things back under control once you realized what was happening. You tried to get back out there and exercise again once your girth started popping buttons and tearing the seat out of pants, and you had to pull your fat clothes out of storage. You tried to eat better and ignore the cravings for everything high in fat and sugar and everything bad for you when your love handles and bingo wings and thunder thighs started rubbing against chair arms and door frames in a way they hadn’t for a long time. And then, once all of that had failed, you tried to simply ignore what was happening — to pay no attention to how your body was ballooning up to fill even your fat clothes; how difficult it was to heave your hanging belly and plump ass up and haul it wherever you needed to go; how the face in the mirror wasn’t the thin, lean, angular one you’d gotten used to seeing, but the bloated, pinched, bulbous fat face set atop a cascade of double chins that you thought you’d never have to look at again. Just muddle through, you must have thought, and eventually you’ll get a handle on this.

How’d all that work out for you? Not great, judging by the way you look now. Those legs that look like pinched sacks of custard, almost too blobby and bulky to move, don’t exactly signal someone in control of their situation. Neither does the enormous, wobbling belly spreading out over your knee folds and across the bed, or the hips bulging out at either side like melting lumps of dough overflowing a mold. And the double chins, resting on two massive boobs each the size of a fat belly in their own right, squeezed by the fat of pillowy arms plopped uselessly at either side — well, all that hardly looks like someone keeping their weight in check with responsible diet and exercise. I’m gonna guess you’re not, are you?

That’s why you had to call me in. Trust me, I see people just like you all the time. Weight’s bounced around for years, they’ve tried to diet and exercise, sometimes it’s worked for a while; but eventually, it spirals out of control. Like this. Really, you probably would have been better off if you’d just accepted being sort of fat. Beats wrecking your metabolism with a crash diet and dealing with the rebound effect — getting really, really fat like this. And now you need someone to help with all the things that you’re much too big, much too heavy to do.

I’m also supposed to help you manage your diet, get some physical activity, see if we can keep what mobility you have and try to recover more. But… that’s not really my style. See, I’ve also been around enough people like you to know that there’s no real way of coming back from this. Sure, I could probably get you to lose some weight, get you down to a size where you can wedge your flab behind the wheel of a car or cram it into the seat of a mobility scooter, get you back into the world for a while. But we both know you can’t stick to that, don’t we? The same habits that got you into this situation to begin with are going to blow you right back up into the same helpless fatty again eventually, aren’t they? Matter of time. And just imagine what a second rebound like this one would do to you! You’re already most of the way to a half-ton; another yo-yo, and you’re down for the count, immobilized probably forever under more fat than even the two of us can hope to handle.

I’d hate to see that happen to you; no lie, I really would. So I’ll make you a deal. You give up on trying to slim down to a normal weight, and you accept that you’re going to be a housebound blob from here on out. Forget about the diet and exercises, and make your peace with filling out most of a king bed by yourself. Do all that, let me take the wheel, and I’ll make sure you have everything you might need — and I do mean everything. I think you’ll find it a lot more comfortable that way.

I take it that’s a no? Listen, there’s no need to be personally insulting. Remember, I’m not the one who fattened you up like a prize pig, too big to reach the bottom of your belly, too fat to move without totally exhausting yourself — that was all you. So fine; we’ll do it your way. Get you losing weight for a while. But remember how easy it is to gain weight back on the rebound. And remember who’s really controlling your diet and your activity. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when your belly’s down to your feet, your arms are too bloated to move, and you’re smothered under half a ton of lard.

Remember — regains are a bitch.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #gainer stories

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420faggyactivities69 · 4 months

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Okay I can't find it but there was this one post about someone secretly feeding you in your sleep and it's honestly all I've been thinking about for the past couple of days

Just imagine having someone who lives with you, a partner or even just a roommate, showing a funnel in your mouth every night while you sleep and just pumping you full of some fattening substance, maybe they'd put something in it to make you sleep hard so you don't wake up.

Over the course of the night you'd have thousands of calories pumped into you, stretching out your stomach to make sure that next time you can handle even more. Every morning you'd wake up swollen and bloated, confused as to why that is, because you haven't eaten since dinner, right? You'd brush it off and go get a breakfast anyway because it's the most important meal of the day after all, you can't miss it. And you'd go about your day as normal, eating and snacking as you always would.

That's why it'd surprise you when one day you'd find it impossible to button your pants. You'd admit that you have gained weight and try to work it off, watching what you eat, exercise, all of that.... But you wouldn't know that a certain someone is feeding you a week's worth of calories just in one night.

You'd furiously try to loose the weight, but it would just keep piling on. What once was a small pudgy belly has grown into a big soft wobbling gut. Every part of you would be covered in lard and none of your clothes would fit you anymore.

After some time you'd just give up, if you can't loose the weight no matter what you do then what's the point of dieting. So you'd give into your hedonistic urges and eat whatever your belly desires. Except your stomach would be so stretched out by that point that you just can't feel satisfied unless you gorge like a feral starved animal.

Maybe one day you'd find the funnel that was used on you all this time and instead of questioning it, you'd immediately use it yourself.

And maybe the person who was behind this the whole time would end up catching you with the funnel, while you're guzzling down pure slop and playing with your massive jiggling belly

#funnel feeding #queer feedee #queer feedism #soft feedism #wg kink #gaining weight on purpose #trans feedee #wg text #wg story #weight gain denial #wg fantasy #wg thoughts #wg fiction #weight gain fiction #funnel

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growmydarling · 8 months

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it's hard to believe what's happening to you. even as the one who's been casually, secretly, adding butter to your meals and weight gain powder and appetite powder, i'm shocked. within 6 weeks of my increased efforts to add some poundage to you, you've truly and totally blimped up. your weight gain hangs in rolls along your arms, your legs, your lower belly. you waddle and jiggle with every step. fat globs hang off you, it seems, while your clothes wrap you tightly like sausage casing. you're oozing out. people gape as you totter by. not that you're walking many places: between car and restaurant, seat to plush seat for your plumpened ass. you grunt quietly just to suck in enough air to recover from your ponderous journey that i simply flit through. my flitting around you only shows further how slow you've become. a fat pig and a hummingbird!

#secret fattening #female feeder #ffa #feedee perspective #fatten you up #fatten me up #wg fiction #wg kink #belly kink #getting fatter #feeder kink #rapid weight gain #rapid fattening

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vividly-untidy · 12 days

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I don’t want to stop at “just” controlling your diet. I couldn’t, because I want more than that. I want to control your habits—design every single day around you and your waistline. I’ll control what you wear, how you act, how you think. All of it. Your body is a temple of my design, as are your thoughts. As the wight piles on with no end in sight, you’ll lose focus on anything that isn’t getting you fatter and dumber. Until you don’t think at all. Until you can’t think at all. It’ll be scary at first, adjusting to this new life. You’ll shock yourself every time you pass a mirror and see your reflection. You’ll think “is this really me?”. News flash—it always was—and if you don’t believe me, just give it some time. With some good old fashioned re-wiring of the brain, I’ll erase all memory of your life before giving into the livestock lifestyle. And you’ll always live in the present, yet also aching to live in the future; aching to live in your bigger and slower body. You’ll be my incompetent slob, dedicating every second to filling your mouth and filling out your curves. And you’ll enjoy it as the pounds and years get faster.

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fatguarddog · 6 months

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A devil's pact that will allow you to eat as much as you want, whenever you want for a whole year with no consequences. The perfect representation of your eyes being bigger than your stomach... though not big enough to read the fine print

You start out simple. You don't gorge yourself too much, just having a little extra food here and there. But then more people seem to just give you food, or offer it for free somehow. Co-worker's birthdays, extra sides turning up in delivery orders... soon you just became accustomed to eating more and more all the time while still maintaining your slim figure

Soon enough, it became thrilling. Eating the most insane portions at fast food places just to brag about how it never hit your waistline. Having a dozen donuts for lunch at work just because you could. Snacking non-stop for the pure pleasure of eating... all the while the devil you made the pact with sits and waits with a grin on their face

The last hour of your pact finally rolls around and the devil appears to you, conjuring you a celebratory feast to be your last "guilt-free" meal. Full of hubris, you dig in excitedly, completely fixated on gorging yourself to savor every last bite of the delicious spread. You get so absorbed in your eating that you hardly notice when the hours passes and the devil's eyes light up

You lurch back with a gasp as something warm and strange takes hold inside of your stomach. Your belly feels so tight, tighter than it's ever felt before... and it's pushing forwards, surging out with waves of softness. Your body is blowing up in real time with the fattening consequences of everything you ate all year, all at once. You plead with the devil with your eyes, but he only laughs as he produces your contract and makes you re-read the line stating that exactly this would happen. You're utterly helpless as your entire body balloons with sweet seductive softness, the devil touching and enjoying each new curve and roll as it forms on your expanding body. He's even kind enough to keep feeding you more from the feast as you're practically beached by all the new weight, not yet used to the feeling of being so fucking huge

The gain finally settles, your clothes destroyed and your face flush with embarrassment. The devil gives your immense belly a satisfying pat and jiggle as you moan. Next time you'd read the contract more carefully

#hutch posts #demons #weight gain #rapid weight gain #wg writing #wg fiction #wg story #weight gain writing #you ever start writing and then it just goes

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growingstories · 5 months

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Growing up

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #wg fantasy #fictionalstories #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain

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epigstolary · 1 year

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Step by Step

“I’m starting to get a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You hear something small clatter to the ground, and look down to see a spinning button slowly coming to rest at your feet. Your puffy potbelly sags through the gap in the waistband of your now-buttonless pants. You try to pull your shirt down to cover the gap, but your belly is hanging too low and it keeps riding up to your bellybutton. The friends you’re with see your face turn beet red, and try to stifle a snicker.

“I’m getting a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You bend over to tie your shoes, and the sudden constriction of your too-tight t-shirt takes your breath away. You can feel your sumptuous belly and flabby tits, bulging outward, straining against the fabric. You do your best to suck in and hold your breath long enough to finish your knot, then straighten up and take a loud, noisy breath. It takes more effort than you remember to get to your feet.

“I’ve gotten a little too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

The walk to the corner store seems a lot longer than it used to. Then you realize it’s because the extra resistance of your thickening thighs rubbing together, your ass cheeks being pushed up and dropped with every step, and the jiggle of extra fat in myriad unfamiliar places all over your body is what’s slowing you down. You stealthily pull the zipper halfway down your hoodie to let out some of the heat building up from your exertion.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

Your friends look at you, then nervously at each other, as you load your fourth plate at the group potluck. Distracted by your craving for another helping, you don’t notice how pronounced your waddle is as you plod across the room. You also don’t pay much attention when you sit down on the couch, until your wide hips spread across the cushion, your belly pushes you back into the seat — and the couch lets out a loud CRACK beneath you. Everyone in the room looks your direction, and then tries to pretend they were looking at anything but your embarrassed chubby face.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I need to lose some weight.”

You sit behind the wheel of your car, in your driveway, the frustration and bafflement growing in your mind. You check, and yes, the seat’s all the way back; wheel’s still making a dent into the pudge of your belly, but there’s at least enough room. The belt’s at its usual shoulder height. You lift your side rolls, flowing over the armrest; and the clip is positioned where it’s supposed to be. So why, you ask yourself, won’t the buckle reach? You pull again, the strap pulling on and cutting into your flab as you strain to get it just that half an inch further… before giving up with a frustrated sigh. You drum your pudgy fingers on your stack of side rolls. Maybe an extender would be a good investment after all.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I have to lose some weight.”

You try to focus on the smell of the cooking food as you stand over the stove, but all you can think about is the roaring ache in your back and legs. You lean against the kitchen counter, feeling your belly hanging and pulling against your back muscles, painfully aware of the whole weight of your thickening body resting on your flabby legs. All this, you think, from standing ten minutes making a pot of macaroni? With a last burst of energy, you grasp the pile of lard at your midsection, your fingers sinking into it, and heave it onto the counter. It groans under the mass, but the pressure releases from your spine and knees as the weight settles. It’s clear this isn’t going to work much longer. You figure it’s time to get a stool and start sitting when you have to cook.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

You never realized how many different kinds of brushes there were until you had to scroll through the hundreds listed for sale to find one you can use in the shower. You still feel the embarrassment from this morning’s discovery that, even sitting on your shower stool, there’s too much blubber surrounding your arms, love handles, and thighs for you to reach everywhere you need to wash with just your soapy loofah. You find one with a long handle and soft bristles that looks like it will fit perfectly under your sagging belly and between your billowing rolls. You add a case of those hard-to-find jelly-filled cakes you love to the order and select the expedited shipping option.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

The blubber encasing your body, hanging between your knees and over the sides of your mobility scooter seat, wobbles as you whir along down the frozen foods aisle. Your basket is already filled with chips, cookies, snack cakes, sugar cereal, pasta, ready-to-eat processed meals — your usual fare for the week — but you need a couple gallons of ice cream to get you through the weekend. As you reach for a carton of double chocolate fudge, you feel something give way in the scooter underneath you, which now makes a sickly buzzing noise when you try to operate the unresponsive controls. It takes all your strength to heave your bulk up from the seat, lumber your hundreds of pounds up to the customer service desk, and lean against the counter to catch your breath and try to ask for help. All the bewildered clerk and other customers can do is stare as you pant and cough, too winded and overheated to talk, your fat undulating with your labored breaths.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. I really have to at least stop gaining weight.”

You wake, still groggy, realizing you fell asleep and spent the night on the couch again. You gather the blanket on top of the wide mound of belly in front of you, fold it, and set it aside before collecting the snack wrappers and soda bottles left sitting next to you from the night before. You’re still a little tired, so you’re not that surprised when you grab the arm rest and push up, letting your belly roll forward over your knees, rise a few inches off the couch, stall, and plop back into your spot, the broad cheeks of your ass spreading to fill the indent covering two of the three cushions. What does surprise you, after you’ve woken up fully and collected yourself, is that your second and third attempts go little better. Somewhat alarmed, adrenaline pumping, you finally get over the hump and lift your tremendous bulk into a standing position. A chill of worry ripples down your spine, as the thought of having to call the fire department to get you off your own couch flashes through your mind. You step slowly, deliberately toward the front door; and if you weren’t so distracted at the thought of the grocery delivery waiting for you, you’d notice the jiggle and pull of the thick layers of fat covering every inch of your body, dominating your motions and shifting with every step you try to take.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. And now… I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.”

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

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