/elite/ - Erotic Literature

Stories and text


Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.
We will never serve auto-play, pop-up or pop-unders to our users.
If you prefer to keep ad-block on, consider clicking here to donate.
Mode: Reply
Name
Subject:
Sage:
Comment:

Max message length: 9999

Files:
Captcha
Password: (For post deletion)
  • Allowed file types: PNG, JPG, GIF, BMP, WEBM, OGG, MP4, TXT
  • Maximum number of files per post: 4
  • Maximum total size: 10.00 MB
  • Read the rules before you post.

Morally Depraved Stories Thread: Rebirth Anomynous 01/19/2020 (Sun) 10:21:07 No. 3
"In this thread, let's post our most depraved weight gain story ideas, and see if anyone picks them up." New decade, new board, new thread.
Gonna be reposting my old stories from this thread (as well as a few I've since written in /trash/): >one day, out of the blue, a random mortal decides to completely fuck up a goddess >one of the really lame and self-restrained ones, like Artemis or Hestia >begins by pledging himself to her service and offering up small sacrifices every once in a while >She pays him little attention, because he's just one supplicant among thousands >he begins upping the scale of his sacrifices and begins getting other people involved in his little cult >maybe have a few scenes of all the gods consuming all their sacrifices, but the goddess has to stuff herself to finish them all >as more and more people join the man's cult, he begins making the rituals more obscene and the acts more depraved >what eventually began as a small group of people peacefully praying to the goddess has degenerated into drunkenly moaning her name at orgies >as the cultists begin to outnumber the original believers, the goddess herself changes >she becomes more belligerent, greedier, messier, and of course fatter >she binges every day on the veritable mountain of succulent sacrifices that are offered to her >pleasures herself with any servants who have died and ascended to her realm >however, the vast influx of believers makes her stronger, and she eventually craves more >she begins abusing her greater powers to interact with the mortal world and granting more fame and fortune to the man >she then begins appearing in the man's dreams to thank him >however, her message has far more meaning than a simple compliment >not only does she crave the power that the cult is now bestowing upon them, but she's also envious of the influence that other gods still wield over mortals >they should be hers to serve, damnit! >orders the guy to start weakening the other gods' influence by not only converting followers, but also defiling the other gods' temples and shrines >every statue they smash, priest they slaughter, and building they demolish weakens her rivals, and the people shall flock to her >this goes on for a while, until the other gods start getting tired of her shit and try to stop her >however, she's too powerful, and handily defeats them before absorbing their power into herself >(deity vore?) >Eventually, the cult reaches its zenith of popularity and its nadir of depravity >now holding mass orgies/human sacrifices, cutting out people's hearts and eating them, fucking corpses, burning down other gods' temples and fucking their siblings on top of the ashes, etc. >however, its influence is felt over almost all of Greece/Rome/etc >culminates with the goddess deciding to go to the realm of mortals and walk (or waddle) among them >she's even bigger and more disgusting than ever before >when the final temples of the other gods are smashed into rubble, she turns to her multitude of followers and gives them one command >"Conquer everything."
>innocent nun/priestess joins a religious order and put in charge of hearing sinners' confessions and absolving them of their sins >what they don't tell her is that every time she absolves them, she absorbs a bit of the sin herself as a sort of spiritual scapegoat >From the thieves, she absorbs a bit of their greed >from the blasphemers, a bit of their cynicism >from the felons, a bit of their cruelty >from the slothful, a bit of their laziness >from the adulterers, a bit of their lust >from the gluttons, a bit of their appetite >after a while, she finds herself to be different from the kind and demure woman who first walked through the doors >avoiding work when possible, only going through the motions when praying, loathing the poor and needy who beg outside, regretting her vows of chastity and poverty, and beginning to demand larger and larger portions at meals >nervous about her apparent lapse in faith, she goes and talks with the mother superior/high priestess/whatever, who tells her not to worry and that such doubts are expected >the best way to avoid them is to work with more sinners, obviously >so at her superior's seemingly positive message, the nun throws herself back into her work >indeterminate time has passed, she's a shell of her former self >she explicitly refuses to spend time with the poor or pray any more then absolutely necessary, preferring to stay in her chambers and "meditate" (stuff her face with stolen food) >she's even taken a lover, a young neighbor next door who constantly visits her for "spiritual advice" >she hasn't even seen soap, let alone a bath, in a week, and she's starting to smell genuinely putrid >all the while, she's kept growing, and she can now fit three of her lithe old self inside of the habit she strains to fit around her bloated body >the older nuns have noticed, debating whether or not to tell her the truth >some protest and say that she's the furthest anyone's gone and she might be too corrupt to keep the secret >the others say that it's safer than risking her finding out on her own >it turns out that (surprise!) she was listening in on them and gets pissed >she's less interested in immediate revenge and more interested in feeding the new desires she's developed >after going on a day-long absolution binge, she goes on a day-long eating binge, strips off her habit, and starts whoring herself out in the slums >this is the juicy part of the story, where every single piece of food she shovels into her ravenous maw >every bulging and stretch-marked roll of fat dangling in the rancid air >every disgusting bowel movement gurgling inside her ponderous stomach >and every degrading sexual deed she performs for pennies is described in disturbingly precise detail >after feeling sufficiently filthy in every possible way, she decides to pay a visit to her old convent >over the course of several weeks, she goes and asks a different nun for absolution from their sins on different days >meanwhile, she continues absolving, binging, and whoring herself through the alleys all throughout the night >trying every depraved fetish under the sun so that whichever nun she confesses to that day gets it worse than the last >she starts with those who treated her well at the convent, who get off relatively easy >then, she goes to the higher-ups who kept the truth from her, and finally the mother superior >she leaves for a few weeks, continuing her habits until she's a fat blob who can barely walk >when she returns, she finds that all the nuns have forsaken their vows, started fucking each other, and turned the convent into a brothel >she enters, pays for the service to the mother superior-turned-whoremonger, waddles to her old room, lays down on the bed >blissfully falls asleep to the sound of penetration all around her
(Too lazy to greentext this) The ruler of a nondescript European feudal kingdom has a reputation for being a womanizer, with his wife having died a good several years prior (or just out of the picture in general) and needing an outlet for his sexual desires. So, he's developed a habit of traveling around, finding whichever fair maiden catches his eye, taking her back to his grand castle, and fucking like rabbits as much as humanly possible. However, having a mistress gets old after a while. Sure, she was pretty when you met, but now she's taken a little too well to palace life and started to put on weight, and fat chicks are gross. She might have gotten pregnant, and bastards might try and usurp your throne. And sometimes she tells her God-mandated ruler that she doesn't want sex when he does! The prince had also generally found a younger, prettier girl by then, so he would very much want to move on. But, there's one question: what do you do with the old one? Lock her up out of sight and act like she never existed. Sure, they kick and scream when the guards come to drop her in the hidden rat's nest of cellars, tunnels, and storehouses below the oldest part of the castle, but they all go eventually. So what if it's dark and damp and poorly-ventilated? It builds character! And he sends down plenty of food and wine for them, he's not a monster. By now, there are easily four dozen women down there, at least three of whom were minor nobility, two are cousins, one (supposed) half-sister, and eight bastard daughters he's sired and dropped down for them to raise (ages ranging from three to fifteen), all in various states of obesity. Our story begins with the king returning from a pilgrimage when he passes through a small farming town in the backwater part of his realm. He sees a young farm girl, Therese, and calls her over to his carriage. He immediately becomes attracted to her, seduces her, and starts another affair. When they arrive at his castle three days later, he lets her run wild and do whatever the fuck she wants when he's not around. Naturally, she acts like a spoiled piece of shit. She gets drunk on all the fine wines, bosses around the servants, and demands food at every hour of the day. A couple weeks later, she's rather pudgy, but not really fat to the point where the prince would abandon her. One day, she's wandering through the castle and breaking shit when she comes across a small room in the old tower she never noticed before. nside, there's a hidden trapdoor leading down to the cellar, and she sees some of the women wandering around below. Suddenly, the king shows up, gives her a little "It's a shame, but I can't let you tell anyone" speech, and chucks her down there. Therese comes to a while later, being tended to by an incredibly large Nordic woman named Inga. Inga gives Therese the rundown on everything down here she used to be the previous king (the current one's father)'s mistress, and that the current king locked her down there when he came to power on the suspicion that she was pregnant with a bastard who would threaten his claim on the throne (she wasn't). Being the oldest one of them all (though she's only 45 or so), the others all look to her for advice. Of course, most of the time, that advice is "sit around, get shitfaced, and eat until you don't feel bad anymore". Inga takes Therese under her wing, helping her develop a nice alcoholism habit, letting her get the lion's share of the food the king has carted down, and even locking her in a room and hotboxing her for a full night to "help her get used to the atmosphere". All the while, Therese is getting bigger and bigger in all the right places. She's definitely considered fat at this point, but not quite obese, and definitely not quite as big as Inga (who gets winded doing any activity more strenuous than lifting food to her mouth). After about a couple months, she decides that even though it's pretty nice down here, with free food and all, she still wants out. So, she has a plan to seduce the king and earn her freedom. She makes a rudimentary corset and lingerie out of old clothes and the staves of a wine barrel to make her look slim enough for him. The next time she sees the king through the trapdoor, she calls out to him and sweet-talks him, promising him the fucking of a lifetime if he lets her out. This goes on for a while until he eventually yields and has her brought up to his room. When they climb into the bed, she tells him to close his eyes before wrapping a piece of cloth around his throat and strangling him to death. She quickly gets dressed, grabs some of his gold and jewelry, slips out of his chambers, steals a horse, and rides back home in the dead of night. A hunt is sent out to find the king's killer, but is unsuccessful, and the king's son ascends to the throne. He is sure to fulfill his late father's will, including a rather odd one about bricking up the door to a specific room with nothing of note in it.
>woman realizes that she has a narcissist fetish >makes it her life goal to fuck a male version of herself that's identical to her in every way >a number of years down the road, she finds a boyfriend who's a lot like her in term of facial structure, height, hair color, etc. >if you want it to be more fucked up, have her settle on doing it to her brother >only problem is he's a gym nut, loves the beach, and has friends who don't like her at all >she convinces him to his job, so he's out of work in the meantime >she realizes she can never build muscle mass like him, so she resolves to destroy his >gets him to stop going to the gym less, feeding him more at home >it's working, he's putting on pounds >he's embarrassed about his double chin, says he's thinking about growing a beard >realizes she hasn't thought of facial hair, so she plans to take care of that too >orders estrogen pills from Mexico, starts slipping them in his food & drinks >acts more controlling, tries to stop him from hanging out with friends >he's starting to get suspicious, she gets desperate >so organizes a convenient 'accident' for him >he breaks both his legs, ends up bedridden >she has complete control over him >keeps him inside so that he loses his tan >shaves all his body hair, tells him it's to prevent bed sores- also says not to bother with haircut, grow it out like hers >cuts the cable, but has a bunch of her favorite reality shows recorded for when she's out at work >slowly cutting him off from his friends one by one, limits his internet & phone use >completely neglects his physical therapy so that his muscles atrophy >keeps a mini-fridge stocked by his bed so that he's constantly snacking >mixes estrogen, tranquilizers, & appetite stimulants in his food to keep him docile >keeps upping the dosage over time >after work, she loves just sitting & talking with him about office politics & reality shows while feeding him snacks >she thinks he's almost ready >she even starts cleaning him using her own cleaning products so his hair is soft, skin smells & feels like hers >he starts watching her reality shows since there's nothing better, gets really into them >she justifies all these strange cost cuts by telling him that she's pouring all their money into medical bills for him >thinks he's almost ready >has no muscle tone, plump moobs, multi-roll belly, cellulite-covered thighs, bingo wings, love handles and a double-chin >hardly any body hair has grown back with his estrogen >super-soft skin, pale as fuck from staying inside for months >all he's talking about are reality shows and gf's office drama >even his voice seems a little higher than before >only one problem >he's a whale compared to her >she's in too deep and it'll take too long for her to put him on a diet, >one option left: fatten herself >she starts binging like crazy, puts bf on a strict diet to keep his weight steady >protein shakes, fat, sugar, carbs, whatever maxes her calorie count >trying to recreate what took almost a year to do to her bf in a matter of weeks >starts using vacation hours to binge all day >tells bf she's on business trips, really in a motel for 24 hours doing nothing but binge, take caffeine pills to stay awake, binge more, and sleep for 14 hours straight >oddly enough, still obsessing over her skin to prevent stretch marks >he starts noticing her weight gain, she gaslights him >photoshops their pictures to where they're both fat & similar looking >ups his sedatives to stop him from thinking too clearly >forges Dr's notes about when his casts are supposed to come off >getting increasingly desperate for time, pushing her body to the limit >puts in her two weeks' notice so she can do this full time >doesn't tell this to bf at all, still lying about how she's pouring so much money into his medication (it's all black-market now) >home stretch, spends a good month or so binging like crazy >after months of this, she's within 5 lb of bf >dopes him up with sedatives, puts her makeup on him, dresses both of them in the same outfit >takes him to some shady back-alley doctor (turns out he knows her hormone dealer, small world) to get his casts removed >After that, it's time for matching haircuts, mani-pedis, and picking up matching red dresses) >everyone they interact with thinks they're sisters >the clothing store manager thinks they're identical twins >she nearly cums just from hearing that >time to head home >when they get back, she starts to prep dinner for their "date" >bf's sedatives start to wear off, wonders what the fuck is going on >"Nothing honey, doctor said one last round of meds the day your cast comes off and you're done" >"Yeah, but why the fuck are my nails painted? Why are-" >"I said, TIME FOR YOUR GODDAMN MEDS" >he tries to run away, but his legs can hardly keep him upright >gf tackles him, forces him to take ambien, quaaludes, and viagra >she takes a couple herself >he's dazed enough for that quick dinner date >she gets him sloshed because it makes the quaaludes work harder >lugs bf to the bathroom, who's nervous (but can't remember why) but also horny as fuck >she looks in the mirror, then at him, then in the mirror, then at him >she can't tell the difference >she pushes him on the bed, has the greatest sex of her life >bf is too out of it to even do much besides lie there and take it >the next morning >bf wakes up, can't remember last night >gf wakes up after, pins him down, gives him another dose of meds >says she'll make them both a nice big breakfast >calls him the masculine version of her name >bf silently freaking out >considers running, fighting back >he looks at the bottle of ambien on the nightstand... >starts to reach for it, but GF comes in with a giant plate of pancakes >starts stuffing him & herself >the quaaludes kick in >goes from "I have no mouth and I must scream" to overwhelming bliss >end
>in the not-too-distant future, fast food restaurants are all automated >in order to save costs, the corporations have centralized production hubs that provide food for all the restaurants in their city >Armies of workers rendering meat, adding preservatives, cooking food, preparing the meals, and transporting them around the restaurants >also connected to the corporation's regional HQ >due to the degradation of labor laws by megacorps, there are essentially no regulations on what companies can put in their contracts as long as both parties willingly sign >the workers are locked into decades-long contracts where they sign away all their rights >factory laborers forced to live in McPods in the McCompound and work ridiculously long hours doing menial labor >also, they're paid in meal points instead of actual cash, only redeemable at the cafeteria >the most expensive meal options are made with natural food, then the processed fast food they sell at restaurants, then the processed food that didn't pass inspection, then the expired or otherwise unsanitary food, then some kind of greasy sludge that is only the bare legal minimum for what constitutes 'edible' >breaking a corporate rule doesn't get you fired, only a demotion and a dock in your pay >repeat offenders are sent to R&D, where they do god-knows-what to you now imagine this story: >Start off with a woman working fairly high up in the corporate ladder at the city HQ >she's locked into a contract, but she owns her own apartment, some stock options, and a cash salary alongside the meal points >she's paid fairly well in that she can afford all-natural food prepared locally by trained chefs from the executive dining room >she's in great shape, stays active, has flexible work hours, corner office, all that jazz >however, corporate politics is a bitch >she gets roped into some embezzlement scandal and is stuck with the blame >she's forced to pay back the company money she 'stole', and she knows she can't win in court, so she sells off most of her private investments >also gets demoted to an office grunt, with a pay hit >she still can afford actual non-processed food, but it's pretty bland and not super-nutritious >she's also in a more sedentary lifestyle now, so she starts to lose her athletic toning >however, her old coworker (now boss) is determined to make her life hell and starts piling more work on her >she can't keep up, brought in for review, this is another ding on her record, so she's demoted again >now she's a supervisor on the factory floor >long hours, mostly standing around and watching other people work >ups her caffeine intake- energy drinks cost fewer meal points than soda, so she starts drinking those more >now she's also starting to stress-eat >but she wants to maintain a semi-healthy lifestyle, so she sells off her apartment (not like she was using it, spending so much time at work) to buy enough meal points >also starts an affair with her manager to hopefully avoid further demotion and get some meal points >moves into a one-room company apartment in the facility, meaning she's no longer walking to work >she's now decently pudgy and losing muscle tone rapidly >constantly tired, eating more, somewhat worse diet, getting sick more (worse working conditions), worse complexion, her knees are killing her >one day, she's so sleep-deprived she falls asleep at her station >something goes wrong >now she's in for another corporate review >her ass is on the line again >tries to get her manager to help, but he doesn't find her too attractive any more and is done with it >she threatens to spill the beans on their affair, but it's the word of an efficient factory manager with a spotless record vs. a disgraced floor supervisor with two demotions in two years >with her past record, she's demoted down to the factory floor >floor workers don't get room rights, just one of those Japanese hotel pod things >her room stuff is put into storage, which the company charges her for, sucking up the last of her savings >she's forced to rely on the regular fast food >eventually, her meal points are low enough where she has to start buying the substandard stuff >it's cheap, but it's not filling, nutritionally bankrupt, and nowhere near safe >hours are longer than ever, she's basically living on energy drinks and mystery meat >her health begins to decline, unlike her waistline >this could go in plenty of directions—acne, BO, muscle atrophy, cavities, osteoporosis, heart disease, diabetes, IBS... >of course, being the future, the company doctor would be able to patch her up... in exchange for a few more years on her contract >knowing them, they'd do it in a way that keeps her alive & working, but wouldn't fully resolve the issue >eventually, she fucks up again, this time in a minor way >but it's bad enough she's sent to the rendering level >all day, sorting through blood and guts and offal >she's reduced to eating the sludge, fucked-up side effects from all the medical waste & cattle hormones in there >and because it's like half friar grease, she's really blimping up >one day, she has an epiphany and realizes she's hit rock bottom >something inside her snaps, so she flips out and starts trashing shit >doesn't get far, arrested by security >as punishment, she's sent to the R&D lab... And that's it.
First time trying to write one >Rich girl hires you to massage her >Spoiled and has everything automated and done for her >Still craves a real touch over machines >You arrive, greeted by swarm of drones >Open the door >She's massive, dominating the penthouse >In shimmering simulated holodress blowing in an nonexistent breeze >She has her vr headset pulled off and she's drinking a syrup from a tube >Has oxygen feed to even breathe >Perfect skin a telltale sign of nanomachine health arguments >Her tits weigh more than you, belly past her feet, butt piling up behind her >Has an huge, yet undersized hoverbra and belly supporters to not crush herself >Still nearly completely pinned by herself >Bigger than any hover supports you've seen, but she's overflowing them >Getting milked, two tubes pump a steady stream of thick cream >She can barely see past herself >Her eyes go up and down your body taking in your muscular form >The holoclothes vanish, leaving her naked >You start with a belly massage >Oiling down her fat body >Unable to even feel anything past the feet of fat insulating her >Reach into her folds and bellybutton >Move to her thighs and calves, occasionally feel a little atrophied muscle to work >Feet are like small pillows sinking into her cankles >Likely haven't supported her weight ever, even toes are fat >Painted perfect nails she would never see with her own eyes >She's ticklish and you tease her a bit, all she can do is squirm her toes >She retracts the feeding tube and tells you off >You smile and obey, coming up to her tits, Another useless mass of fat >Massaging them forces more milk out and she moans >Take your time, making sure you cover everything with attention >Her shoulders are buried in fat, arms have barely any muscle >She can barely lift them herself, and rely on a holo display her hands rest on >Her hands are being overtaken by her armfat, too fat to even make a fist >Her face is gorgeous, make up isn't a holosim, but real >She's sweating >Fat flushed cheeks and chins, and shiny, straight hair in a pink dyed bob >Cute wide eyes squinting and thick lips pouting from her plush face >You massage her nonexistent neck, hearing her neck pop >Can she even turn her head herself? >You run your hand down her cheek >Her glare melts slightly >She tries to lift an arm to bat you away, but it only shifts a few inches >Sighs and has the tube slide back into her mouth, ice cream pouring down it this time >You go to her back, stepping over some other tubes >Digging into her back you manage to work what little muscle is there >Her twin mounds of ass behind her get a rubdown too >Glutes completely untouchable behind the feet of fat >You ask if she was pleased with the massage >She haughtily asks if that's all >You smirk >You reach over and grab the controls from her >She can't see exactly what you're doing >Tease your cock in her oiled belly button >She starts whining, you force the syrup tube back in her mouth >She can't bring herself to fight it, she wasn't eating for minutes >You have a drone hold up her belly and you start digging for her pussy >Her mound is the size of a mobile woman's belly >You plunge your hand in, pulling the toys in it. >They were on. >She's far too fat to even try to kick you away. >You just have your way with her >Her breathing gets faster and more ragged >This is probably the most intense exercise than she's had in a long time >It feels so good, she wants to moan, but keeps guzzling down the frozen sugar >She reaches for the emergency override controls >She's never used them before, and they were installed when she was sitting up more >She manages to shove her arm forward >Her fingers brush against the buttons, but she can't quite see >An extra hard thrust sends a fatquake through her, and her arm slips back and away from it >She can't do anything but ride the waves of pleasure running through her >You remind her how helpless she is by lifting her belly a little more >It it rolls back against her chest, pinning her against her assfat >You feel her finish, suffocating under her own weight. >Let her relish in it, and lower her belly a little so she can breathe again. >Stuff her toys back in. >Browse menus and pay yourself. >Find toy controls and turn them up to the max >Place the controls on her cleavage, making sure she can see them. >Take a pillow and cover the emergency override with it. >Blow her a kiss, promising you'll be back tomorrow.
Does anyone remember the story some guy wrote on "Writing.com" where the parents of an extremely fat girl hired a babysitter who would have sex with her because she'd been acting on her urges in school and the problem was getting out of control. So, the parents hired a babysitter to satisfy her urges? Two things 1- What happened to that story? 2- Would anyone be interested if it got picked back up? The original story had potential but felt like it was a bit too descriptive and took too long to say anything noteworthy. I have some ideas of my own about it.
>>108 Wish there were a genderbent version of this.
>>108 It's right here https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2094570-The-Special-Babysitter-Chapter-1
This is darker than most of my stuff, but had an idea: High Class, to White Trash. Three characters: Mom, Jock Daughter, Nerd Daughter. A rich family from the big city. Mom is a 40 year old trophy wife of a wealthy executive, exercises a ton, has a fair amount of work done to look like she's still 20. Think Kate Beckinsale. Jock daughter is a 19 year old college volley ball player, state champ for years, super fit but really stacked, lots of instagram followers, sports illustrated modeling jobs lined up, blonde+blue eyed. Think young kate Upton. Nerd daughter is short, super smart, assertive, self confident and moral, brown eyes, freckles, very svelte. College Senior, full ride scholarship to Ivy League lined up at the start of senior year, ardent feminist, openly bisexual, proudly atheist, going to have the world at her finger tips. Think Emma Watson. Nerd daughter discovers Dad is doing super illegal shit and blows the whistle. Nerd, Jock and Mom are put into witness protection, getting moved to a small town in the south with a depressed economy, shitty schools, no gyms, lots of fast food, ultra conservative culture and sky high obesity rates. They're moved from a big McMansion to a double wide trailer, from each having a BMW to sharing two crappy old toyotas. Mom's from old money, she never had a real job besides being a model years earlier, she gets placed at a fast food restaurant. At first every one's marveling a this ultra hotty and her manager is giving her the easiest shifts and duties. Without all her expensive beauty treatments middle age catches up with her: forehead lines and crows feet when her botox wears off, lips get thinner due to no collagen injections, roots coming in gray that she covers with a cheap dye job that looks like shit. Not quite so hot anymore, she starts having to do more work. Mom tries to keep up with yoga but the budget has to stretch, meaning she's bringing home fast food a lot and after double or triple shifts stops exercising from being tired and stressed out. Spends money they don't have on smokes that make her look older and her teeth yellower. Starts drinking due to despair and all of that combined means she starts gaining pretty quick without her personal trainer/boy toy, highly unflattering gain: door jammer hips, bean bag thighs, sagging lower belly, upper arms, shoulder hump. As she gets less and less attractive, she starts getting more and more shifts which means she gets fatter and fatter. Jock Daughter gets a job as a waitress at a greasy spoon, frustrated and bored, dudes aren't up to her standard and poverty sucks. Other waitress suggest she get a job as a dancer at the strip club near the army base, which Jock gets easily. She's a mega hotty surrounded by a bunch of heavier, uglier girls, starts earning a ton of money from her dances. Starts dating hottest guy in town, handsome son of club owner and local crime boss. She's real fucking snooty about how hot she is, telling him its a privilege to let him fuck her and how this is a temporary little fling until she goes back to being rich. Other girls plan revenge: Dancers get a beer a night, other girls pool all of their beer to her and she starts drinking pretty heavily. With no gym, no trainer and no nutritionist to keep her photo ready, plus the fast food mom is bringing home, Jock starts getting out of shape and gain weight. Loses her abs, boobs get saggier, some jiggle on her ass. Brings in less tips, less crowds, gets lazier, starts to drink more, gets past the maximum weight for dancing. No dancing means no exercise at all and she starts getting chubby. Lucky for her, Handsome Criminal has a gaining fetish. Jock starts blowing the fuck up, Criminal takes her on big fast food binges before sex and keeps her drunk half the day. She mutters drunkenly about how she's gonna be the SI rookie of the year and all the instagram followers she's gonna get when she gets back to civilization and back in shape. He tells her that instead she'll never lose weight, says she'll get too fat even for drink pit and be moved to kitchen duty within a month. If he wins, she moves in with him. If she wins, she gets a thousand bucks a week that the family really needs. Jock completely fails to get into shape, exercise sucks ass now and she can't diet to save her life. Keeps blowing up, none of the weight going to her now floppy boobs. she gets a big ole gut and a huge ass, too fat to serve drinks much less dance. Moves in with the criminal and gets goddamn huge and super unhealthy: high blood pressure, bad joints and diabetes. Still claims she's going to get into shape, even though her guts too big to be fucked from the front. She gets fucked doggy style every night after being funnel fed chocolate sauce and heavy cream, watching old videos of her self playing volley ball and doing exercises, bragging about how easy it is to stay fit. Nerd daughter is suddenly in a shitty southern school: no computers, text books falling apart, fucked up local laws are that girls can't take math or science classes, no girls clubs save future christian mothers, no girl's sports but cheer leading (and they're all kinda fat). Gets bullied a lot by flabby cheer leaders jealous of her looks, hit on constantly by the town jock foot ball players, teachers hate her because she believes in evolution and the south losing the civil war, at home jock sister blames her for them being in this shitty town, Mom defends her but Nerd can tell mom blames her inside. Can only skype her girlfriend once a week due to security. Starts to stress eat, gets a chubby little tummy, a butt and much bigger boobs and can't afford many new clothes, popping out of her old ones. Mean girls tease her that she's knocked up and is going to be a drop out teen mom. Stress eats more, gets chubbier. Nerd girl has ADHD that responds really well to treatment and a medical condition where her hormones are absolutely nuts when not on birth control. Shitty southern state lets the pharmacist refuse to hand out birth control for unmarried women when she needs to up her birth control prescription on friday. Snaps and chews out the pharmacist, who bans her from the store, meaning no ADHD meds either. Jock sister, only a little chubby at this point, had taken the only sort of dependable car to a bachelors party for a long weekend, won't be back until monday afternoon. Has to wait to go to another town and get a fresh prescription. By monday morning nerd's hormones are making her go fucking psycho horny. Shitty internet makes long range co-mutual masturbation with girlfriend not enough. Fucks half the foot ball team and half the mean girls too by noon, caught by the principal sucking off the chubby head cheer leader while she rides the quarter back. Suspended, has to go to horrible mega church three days a week and teach sunday school lessons about how a woman's place is in the home. Church fucking sucks, teaching this bullshit really grates on her. Pastor's shy, chubby son is a secret atheist and sympathizes with her...she fucks him on the altar. Month passes...period doesn't come, ankles swelling, morning sickness, breasts tender. Uh oh. Tests positive on prego test. When she asks girlfriend to mail her abortion pill girlfriend dumps her. Tries to hide it in school, still a little thinner than average girl but her boobs and belly expand really quick. Out grows sister's bras, all her clothes (even mom's out grown uniforms) at the waist, feet too swollen for her shoes, starts leaking and has to skip school. Pastor's son offers her help, trip to PP and money...but his dad over hears her saying she's pregnant and thinks the kid is his sons. Tells principal, automatic expulsion for pregnancy. Pastor tries to push her into a shot gun marriage with his son. No longer trophy wife mom tells her daughter to take it. Its the best she can hope for, the Feds dropped the charges on dad and they'll never get to go home again. Shot gun marriage, nerd is bare foot and pregnant with triplets, husband is a vice pastor at the church meaning she has to keep her mouth shut or be kicked out of the church house they're given. Gets damn huge from pregnancy cravings, over a hundred pounds in 9 months. Untreated ADHD, mood swings, prego brain means she fails her attempt to take the GED. Gives birth to three boys, becomes exhausted single mother who doesn't lose a pound, barely sleeps. Wants to get a job, pastor's son says he'd lose his job if she wasn't a house wife. Kids grow up a bit, are uncontrollable monsters bouncing off the walls all the time. Nerd gets continuously fatter, boobs are super floppy, she barely sleeps and is 23 and looks 35, weighs 350 pounds. They find and destroy all of her books (not that she's read in years). Pastor's son isn't attracted to her anymore, they rarely have sex.But kids are going to school at last, she can get her life back together... Instead meets Mom and Ex-Jock for buffet lunch. None of them are recognizable, Mom's given up and gone totally grey, ass so big it gets caught in doors. Ex-Jock has a gut to her ankles and has to use a mobility scooter to get from her car to the seat. Ex-Nerd has un-bra'd boobs laying down to her hips and a vacant expression. They gorge and assuage themselves the others look worse, wind up getting stuck in the booth. Buffet TV is showing a show about disppeared persons, episode is about them. Interviews Mom's exhusband (remarried to a twenty year old), Jock's team mates (they made it to the olympics) and Nerds old girlfriend (best selling author). Shows picture of them dressed to the 9s for award ceremony for Nerd, asks anyone who's seen them to call a number for a reward. They decide they're better off with everyone not knowing what they became.
So there are a few stories I've read online in the past but can't seem to find them anymore. Wonderd if anyone may be able to help. First one was on dimensons way back, it was about a woman who receives some gift and she's not suposed to open it till Christmas. When she does, she wakes up on a beach made of sugar and gets super fat..... as in within the story it's mentiond that she gets misstook for a beached whale. Another was from god knows what site but it was pretty sick. It sort of started like a nightmare on elm street rip off where this kid finds dream Demons or whatever and they give him the power to make girls fat, he starts with his mum by accident and she notes her skirt is tight, then makes his sister chubby before making anyone and everyone chubby Third story was on deviantart. There was a couple that wernt so hot with eachother anymore but the guy brings home somthing called gut butter or somthing from the supermarket. He tries it, dosnt like it, but his wife loves it and ends up eating tons of it. Over time getting more plump and sensual as their romance rekindles. It's weird to say but it was actually just a nice story all around. No pun intended, but it was just kinda sweet, believable and verry vanilla haha. Basically just a story about a woman that finds butter addictive and eventually puts on weight
>>222 Fucking amazing.
Having some ideas from watching the Twilight zone. * a sexy and thoroughly evil model/actress sabotages her rivals with weight gain pills while trying to fight off some weight gain that's been creeping up as she nears 30. Opens with her dosing an up and comer model with the weight gain pills, permanently ruining her metabolism. She's just been told she can get the big cover if she can drop 15 lbs...only to get into a car accident. She wakes up in the afterlife, being told that she can accept what's coming to her (hell) or get to replay her life from the age of 18 in an attempt to become a better person. Taking option B, she wakes up just after graduating high school with her first photo shoot coming up in a month. First go around she'd exercised hard for it, this time around she's so busy partying her peak body has gotten chubby from all the cheap beer. She shows up over weight and hung over to the shoot and acting like she's already a big shot and winds up getting black listed from the industry. Given she'd failed to ever apply herself in school, marrying rich is her only hope. She manages to grab a geeky nerd from next door that she knows grows up to found a software company and marry him quick. But back at 29 she'd had her tubes tied and here she she's got a 18 year old's fertility. She gets knocked up quick, he drops out of school and never founds his company, she winds up married to a loser, increasingly obese and poor, having peaked at 18. She pleads for a third chance, begging to have her old life back... And wakes up in a hospital bed. She's been in a coma for nearly a year. She's immensely happy to not be fat and poor...only to be told that due to medical bills etc she's now spectacularly in debt. And it turns out that her nurse was the mother of the competitor she'd just fattened up. And said nurse has been keeping her on an IV of that drug 24/7/365, while pumping her full of fatty nutrient sludge. She's now much, much fatter than she was in the dream...
Tried to write this a few times but hasn't worked out. Way bigger and more ambitious than I have time for! 1870s, Some Western Territory USA. Think steampunk/Wild Wild West. A brilliant young engineer from Boston gets the commission of a lifetime to build a railroad bridge over a river gorge in the middle of nowhere. It’s a huge challenge and has the potential to make him wealthy and put him at the top of his profession. He moves himself and his new wife out to the small mining town near the site where they’re given a huge house, servants, etc. However they're isolated, and the town and the company who hired him are corrupt so there’s a lot of politics and other complications. Plus the local Indian tribe was pushed out of the gorge for the project and supposedly put a curse on it, which spooks the local labor pool. The wife gets pregnant and there are complications, as she’s sickly to begin with, extremely small and fragile. Stressed and distracted as he starts work on the bridge, he finds himself at the town saloon a lot, blowing off steam. There he finds himself becoming slightly obsessed with the barmaid, a hugely buxom SSBBW married to the owner. He also makes friends with the other fish-out-of-water in town, a New York merchant. He’s an FA and brags about his fat wife back home while hitting on the barmaid constantly and screwing the fattest whores in town. The wife dies during premature childbirth and it’s looking grim for the baby as well, a boy. The call goes out for a wet-nurse and it turns out the barmaid was pregnant so she gets the gig. This keeps the baby alive for a few days while doctors are summoned. None are optimistic but the baby seems to get better thanks to her constant nursing. The engineer and the barmaid talk and he finds out she’s worried because her husband disappeared a week before, took all their money and left her in debt. The engineer offers to pay her debts and let her have her baby at his house, and subsequently take care of her and her family for as long as it takes for his son to be viable. With no other options she agrees and moves into the house. Shortly after the barmaid gives birth to a daughter. Her other daughters (7 and 10) are hugely fat like their mom, and the engineer is disgusted by all of them and their slovenly, gluttonous ways. He hires a nanny in the meantime, hoping to get rid of them ASAP, but month after month, each time they try to wean his son off the barmaid he immediately falters, almost dying a few times. The best doctors are called in, from further and further away for more and more money and yet none can explain it. Not only can the son only survive on breastmilk, but it has to be the barmaid’s milk and only from her breast. He can’t drink it if it’s bottled or in anyway removed from her. Meanwhile the bridge keeps getting delayed over and over by red tape and weird accidents. The engineer desperately wants to go back home to Boston but he only gets his (huge) bonus once the project is finished so he’s stuck. If he abandons the project his reputation is ruined and he’ll be broke. Years go by and the engineer takes commissions in other places to make money during the many lengthy delays with the bridge, so he's away for much of the time. The 4 children are raised by nannies and tutors though none stay long because the barmaid becomes jealous and fires them, or they leave on their own accord because of the weirdness of the situation. The son is now 8 and has never managed to wean from the barmaid. The engineer has all but given up on any kind of medical intervention and has become a bitter alcoholic. As a last straw, though he’s an atheist and skeptic he decides to meet with an Indian spiritual healer, who tells him he has to quit the bridge project if he’s gonna free himself and his son. He’s not sure what to believe anymore but has to finish the project now to pay off his debts and start clean so that’s not an option. In the meantime the barmaid has doubled in size while stuck in the house all these years and while still in okay health she’s starting to have mobility issues. She’s so fat the engineer has to figure out elaborate machines and contraptions to help her get around. His merchant friend, intrigued by her for sexual reasons, helps design and commission these devices. The barmaid’s daughters are very much following in her footsteps weight-wise. Isolated in the house, they start to engage with the son and each other sexually. Meanwhile their mother is screwing around with the gardener, a local handyman, and the merchant friend. She also starts getting sexual feelings for the son and begins grooming him. (continued)
>>369 Four years later, just as the bridge is completed, the engineer dies of alcohol poisoning. The long-awaited bonus goes to the son in trust and the merchant — the son's godfather and trustee — makes the barmaid his guardian. He’s still dependent on her as he’s never been able to eat or drink anything else but her breastmilk, but she’s grown so enormous her health is starting to go and she’s virtually immobile. The devices that were built to make her viable can only do so much, and attempts to force her to lose weight fail, as the merchant friend has been feeding her despite knowing he’s killing her by doing so. She’s also having a sexual relationship with the pubescent son, teaching him “how to be a man.” The barmaid’s older daughter is now 22, mature and very intelligent but a hugely obese, mildly depressed agoraphobic. Still, she’s taken over the running of the household. The middle daughter (19) is dumb and immature but happy, even fatter as a compulsive binger who has to be kept away from the kitchen or else she’ll eat herself to death. The youngest daughter (12) is also massive and has become the son’s de facto girlfriend. She’s manipulative like her mother and may be mentally ill. The son is a prodigy and is starting to realize how horrible and twisted his situation is. However he’s devoted to the barmaid as well as her daughters as they’re the only family he’s known. He also realizes the barmaid is getting fatter by the day, her days numbered, and if she dies, he’ll die too without his only food source. The oldest daughter realizes this as well, and knows that if the son is gone his money will go to the closest blood relative and she and her sisters will have nothing. And so after many years of rejecting the merchant's advances, she seduces him and he impregnates her. 3 months along she convinces the son to try nursing with her and it works. This makes the mother jealous but there’s little she can do in her condition, and so continues to manipulate the son and merchant as best she can sexually to get what she wants and needs. A few months later the mother dies while having sex with the merchant, killing him as well. They were using a special machine he’d had built that allowed her to be on top of him but it fails and he’s crushed while she’s smothered by her own fat. Shortly after that, a servant accidentally leaves the kitchen unlocked and the middle daughter breaks in and eats herself to death. Then the youngest daughter becomes jealous of the arrangement between the son and her oldest sister and plots to kill her, not caring what happens to the son. The oldest daughter figures this out in time and has her sent away to an asylum, leaving just herself and the son in the house. Her child is stillborn and it’s ambiguous whether she had a hand in it. Six years later the son is 17 and about to receive his inheritance. Besides that, a huge vein of silver has been discovered on some nearby property his father owned and with both windfalls he’s about to become fabulously wealthy. He and the oldest daughter now have a sexual relationship but more out of convenience than real affection. The son is frustrated by their situation, as he wants to leave, to go to college and travel the world. But besides being agoraphobic, the oldest sister is immensely fat now like her mother was and can’t travel. Insisting she should give her youngest sister a second chance and reunite their "family," the son convinces the older sister to arrange for the girl to be released from the asylum and come home. She at first appears "cured," serene and grateful and doesn’t seem to harbor any ill will. The asylum regulated her diet and so she’s plump but not enormous like the older sister, who's jealous of her for that reason and others. This intensifies as the and the son soon pick up their close childhood relationship. In the meantime gains a lot of weight quickly, with the son’s encouragement, and when she becomes pregnant the older sister realizes what's happening. She tries to kill her little sister in her sleep, but is overpowered and killed instead. The son and the youngest sister cover it up by making it look like a suicide and the little sister, last living member of their family, takes over feeding him. The son gets his inheritance, they marry, and she has a daughter. The son now wants to move back East ASAP and begin a new life but his bride convinces him to stay for various reasons. She’s now massively fat herself and embarrassed of it, afraid of what outsiders will think of her. They argue and the son threatens to leave her and take their daughter. She tries to kill him but he fights her off and accidentally kills her instead. Guilty, he allows himself to be arrested for manslaughter and assumes he’ll die without her milk. However he tries some food in jail and manages to keep it down, thus discovering he’s no longer tied to anyone. With the help of expensive lawyers he beats the rap and goes back East. There he leaves his daughter with relatives, travels for a while, settles back in Boston and tries to attend college but he can’t adapt to normal society. Despite his status as a very eligible bachelor, he's uninterested in the women he meets or people in general. He goes through great lengths to find obese, lactating prostitutes as that’s the only thing that will make him happy, though none are fat enough for him and/or are lacking in other ways. Traveling in Egypt, he meets a pimp who tells him about a tribe in the Maghreb that fattens up their women to immense size and then sells them as concubines. He arranges to go there and buy several, his plan to take them to a remote island and recreate his childhood. But it’s a difficult, dangerous journey and he’s double-crossed by his guide, sold to the tribe as a slave himself. Eventually he convinces the head of the tribe that he’s wealthy enough to buy his freedom many times over and tricks him into arranging his own rescue. When the mercenaries come, he has them kill the head of the tribe and becomes the leader himself, thus attaining a harem with scores of huge women of all kinds. End.
a female lawyer who is a pathological liar runs afoul of a witch who cruses her now whenever she lies or doesn't tell the truth she gains 10 pounds i got the idea from a Stephen king story thinner i had an idea that to add a sense of danger that it could be implied that if she doesn't find a way to break the curse she'll keep getting fatter until she explodes i don't know how it should end with her exploading or with breaking the cruse but now she's so fat she's immobile
>>377 i had an idea that in the story she is handling a career making case where she representing a girl who is suing a fast food chain for getting fat eating their food (this is based on real case that happened) which could make her as a lawyer
(1.22 MB 1038x1476 1588107784342.jpg)
Here's an oldie but a goodie: a guy or a girl getting fattened up to be eaten. Imagine some monstrous couple or group of cannibals move next door to a girl and befriend her. They gradually start filling her life with food: inviting her over for dinner, making her snacks and treats and meals, that sort of thing. Eventually she grows enormously fat, and her neighbors mention that they're getting ready to cook a "special dish" that they only make every so often. The girl drools and licks her lips, saying she can't wait; all their food has been amazing so far, and she's eager to try this new dish. Her neighbors chuckle darkly and give her belly rolls a squeeze, saying they can't wait, either.
>You’re an effeminate fat boy with a particularly wide ass >You endure constant teasing from your classmates for your blubbery, bloated figure >It’s humiliating and painful, but you endure it all the same >However, things start to change after winter break >You don’t know if it’s the extra pounds you’ve packed on, or just sheer bad luck >Your teachers are starting to get in on the fun >They make you stay after class for sessions of poking, fondling, and frisking >You try and keep your head down, but after your gym teacher tries to fuck you, you decide that enough is enough >You waddle up to your rich parents and detail the entire situation, panting and sweating all the while >You can see in their eyes that they’re skeptical, but they agree to pull you from school and hire a private tutor >However, your plan ultimately backfires >Since your career-oriented parents are almost always out of the house, it leaves your tutor with more opportunities to do even lewder things to you
A spoilef young (could be underage) bratty, fat daughter of some rich American corporation is living in Africa, in a mansion comfortably. She's involved in some whitewash refugee camp business, enjoying the luxury while Africans around her are starving. They revolt, tearing her pampered, now almost immobile body to pieces.
https://www.deviantart.com/thatguyman8/art/Fatiosa-PART-1-Furiosa-WG-Mad-Max-Fury-Road-562986287
>>485 Wow, good shit.
>>485 I don't normally write about fat males but this inspired me... Check it out: “This is gonna be good.” Coach Tennyson’s first period PE class was a rowdy, rambunctuous bunch but now it was quiet enough to hear the proverbial pin drop. That is except for the sounds I made as I trudged towards the start line: the shuffling of my sneakers on the parquet floor, my asthmatic breathing and the whisper of my huge, flabby thighs rubbing against one another. Little did the other boys know about the rash I had going on between them, my anxiety causing me to sweat even more than usual. “Come on, pick it up Perry!” the coach barked. “Yeah, don’t keep us waiting,” Rob Kenicki added. “The suspense is killing us.” Rob was the class Alpha and a dozen boys laughed and cheered, as they did at everything he said. “Hey nice ass, P-Lo!” another wag shouted. “Don’t tire yourself out just getting there!” Indeed I was a particular target not just because I’m fat — there were other big boys in the school — but the way I wore my excess weight. See I’m the first to admit my physique is downright freakish in its fulsome femininity, soft and round with narrow shoulders and a slight chest, though with sizeable breasts that are far too round and pendulous to pass for pecs. Further down I carry a low hanging belly that even then was almost too big to hold with both hands, and ballooning love handles behind me. All of it forms a single, low-hanging ring of flab that surrounds my midriff like a giant, flabby life raft. Below that I’m even bigger — much bigger — with wide hips, thunderous thighs, and gigantic buttocks. In fact if one had to pick a single part of my anatomy where I pack the most pounds, it’s always been my rear end. There was no hiding it whatever I wore, as even in a long, roomy overcoat. But in too-small gym shorts (the largest size was an XXL) and an oversized yellow t-shirt that lay slack on my shoulders and wouldn’t stay down around my “spare tire,” I hardly looked like a 15-year-old boy at all. What I resembled most was a fat, pear-shaped woman. Suffice it to say, the first semester at YZ Academy had been brutal for me, and I’m the type of fat boy who eats when I’m stressed. I’d already been getting bigger by the week, but then winter break had me at home all day stuffing my face non-stop. I had no idea how much weight I’d gained but I was feeling every ounce of it — and obviously showing it. “Looks like you added some junk in the trunk, Perry!” “Does he have cellulite on his legs now?” “Fucking disgusting…” There were no more catcalls once I finally arrived at the starting line, the anticipation among the other boys keeping them silent. No one knew what would happen — including myself — as jumping six hurdles was an absurd challenge for someone my size, particularly with my ungainly shape and pathetic fitness level. “Wait for my signal,” Coach Tennyson insisted, placing his whistle between his lips. I felt sweat drip down my face, my chest, my stomach, my thighs now slick with it. I tried to mimic how the other boys stood when they were waiting at the line but my legs were too fat, my center of gravity too low to crouch. Instead I stumbled a bit and the boys screamed with laughter, Coach Tennyson yelling at them to shut up. At last he blew the whistle and I willed my body forward, my legs like lead-filled pillows as I struggled to push them past one another. I could feel my gigantic ass wobbling, my stomach bouncing, my love handles shaking themselves free from my shirt. My breasts jiggled as well and I reflexively put up one hand to steady them, the other waving around effeminately beside me. Yet no matter the effort I knew I was hardly moving faster than walking speed, and I immediately began to feel out of breath before I was even halfway to the first hurdle. The boys cheered me on — GO GO GO —my body radiating heat now, sweat shaking off me in drops, and I couldn’t help but emit little quivery yelps as I felt my slack, scant muscles burn, surging with lactic acid. The hurdle was at waist-height and I knew I couldn’t jump it, as I couldn’t jump at all, not even an inch. I decided I would just charge through it — if I even made it there. Coach Tennyson kept yelling “Faster!” but I could feel myself slowing down even more, my huge ass like an anchor I was lugging along behind me. Finally at that first hurdle I put my hand out to push it down, but I couldn’t see past my belly so I misjudged the base on the floor, tripping over it instead. I fell into the upright part, feeling my ass push me forward and down with its relentless inertia. I landed on my chest and scraped my chin but otherwise seemed to be okay. The other boys were roaring with laughter, literally rolling on the ground, with Coach Tennyson only making half-hearted attempts to silence them. “Come on, Perry!” he hollered, now striding towards me. “You didn’t even make an attempt!” I was trying to get up but I was now tangled in the hurdle itself, pinning me down. My chest was holding down the crossbar with the base holding down my sprawling ass as while my arms flailed and my thighs shifted uselessly. It took a ridiculously long time for Tennyson to get me up and he was even more furious after it, angry enough to threaten the other boys (still hooting and hollering) with detention if they didn’t shut the fuck up. “You’re a total disgrace!” Tennyson growled at me. “Look at you — you look like one of my wife’s fat friends!” I didn’t know what to do — apologize? So I just kept my head down and waited for it to be over. “Go back to the locker room and wait for me,” he ordered.
>>573 I waddled off in red-faced, perspiring shame, though secretly glad I’d have a chance to shower and get dressed by myself rather than with the other boys. Towards the end of the previous semester they’d started a horrible ritual of taunting me while they slapped, grabbed, and jiggled my fat, in the showers and at the lockers. It never went on long, Tennyson always pushing class long enough where we barely had time before the bell, but still it was the worst part of my day. Besides being alone, I was happy to be able to take my time for once. I was basted in sweat, and my anxiety had released all kinds of foul odors. As the fattest boy in school I was overly conscious of not smelling bad and I couldn’t imagine going through the rest of the day in the state I was in. I’d just started soaping myself up when I heard voices and froze with dread. “Having fun, Perry Pig?” It was Rob and three other boys, Clay, Keith, and Ryan, at the entry, towels around their taut, athletic waists. “Yeah, Tennyson sent us to the showers early, too,” Rob said. “What a shame for us all to miss gym class like that, huh?” “Guys, no…” I begged, but they were already coming towards me. “Nice job out there,” Clay sneered. “Entertaining at least,” Keith added. “I can’t believe how much fatter you got,” Ryan said. “Let me touch that big thang of yours…” I tried to move away but of course I was too slow. He leaned in and gave my left cheek a hard slap with the back of his hand that sent the rest of me jiggling. “Look at that jelly move!” Rob laughed, moving in from the other side and grabbing the love handle on the other side. “Slippery when wet,” Clay joked, giving the other one a poke. In the meantime Keith and Ryan had come around in front of me and Keith pulled my nipples with both hands. I smacked them away and he snarled and slapped me in the face, while Ryan reached under my stomach, lifting it and letting it slap back down. “Jesus, it weighs a ton — who knew fat weighed so much?” he marveled. Clay and Rob were now working in tandem pushing my ass in alternate directions, making it flow back and forth like water in a tub, laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. “Stop it! Stop!” I cried, hearing how high and pathetic my voice was. I was trying to fight them off now, waving my arms around blindly, but I was so weak they just pushed my hands away and laughed harder. Then I felt one of them shove his fingers into my crack and it so startled me I lost my balance and fell on the ground. This time I landed on my ass but because it was so big and soft I was bruised but not seriously hurt. Still, it was quite dramatic, with all the splashing water and my blubber shaking and bouncing in all directions. It took seconds for me to stop wobbling. “Whoah, he almost went through the floor!” Keith said with a laugh. He went at me again but Rob stopped him. “Wait,” Rob said, then grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted it all over me and around me. “Let’s watch him try and get up.” “Oh my god, epic,” Clay cackled as they all moved back. Indeed as I put my hand on the floor it slipped and I flopped down onto my side with more jiggling. “He’s ridiculous!” “Where’s his cock?” “He doesn’t have one!” On my side, with my stomach on the floor beside me I realized they could see my FUPA, the big pad of fat over my privates that were usually hidden by my belly. It was so bloated it did actually cover my dick — in fact I had to lift it to use the bathroom, as otherwise the pee would dribble all over it. I managed to turn myself over onto my front but the floor was now slick with shampoo and I couldn’t hope to get myself up, so I just flailed around wallowing in my own blubber, splashing and gasping. “What the hell is going on???” It was Tennyson, screaming louder than I’d ever heard him. The other boys jumped. “You faggots go put your clothes on and get out of my sight!” he bellowed. “And you, Perry, come to my office! You’re the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.” Alone again, I managed to pull myself to the drain pipe, and slowly, with ridiculous effort, I managed to get up to my feet and rinse off. The boys were all gone by the time I dried off and got dressed again. I went to Tennyson’s office, where he was waiting for me. “You were no athlete before Christmas,” he said, calmer now, leaning on his desk. “But since you came back you’re just ridiculous.” I shrugged. What was there to say? “You can’t help being built like a damn woman but you can help what goes in your mouth, right?” He waited for an answer so I nodded yes, because of course that was true. “I recommend you go on a serious diet,” he continued. “And in the meantime, I’ll show some mercy and allow you to stop making a mockery of my class.” I perked up now, as that was the best news I’d heard all year. “But first you’ve gotta do something for me…” He was pulling his shorts down before I even knew what was happening, but when he pulled the fly on his briefs open I figured it out well enough. I didn’t care, it seemed a small price to pay, and the rest of the day felt that much brighter knowing I’d be exempt from PE for the rest of the year.
>>574 My other classes went okay, except that I couldn’t help noticing how small the desks suddenly seemed. We had the old fashioned kind, wooden with the chairs attached, and while they’d been snug last semester now I could hardly stuff myself inside them. After my usual double lunch (secretly supplemented by sandwiches I’d brought from home) it became even more difficult, and I caught the other boys laughing and pointing at me as I literally had to push and pull my ass and belly into place. I was relieved to make it to last period — Social Studies. My teacher was Miss Fuentes and she was my favorite. I was a good student, the best in the class, and I’d always stay late for extra credit. I did enjoy history and geography but honestly it was mostly so I wouldn’t have to leave with the other boys. She seemed happy for the company and I liked helping her straighten up and organize her paperwork. As the last bell rang and the other boys rushed out, I dawdled and she closed and locked the door. She asked me about my chin and I told her I fell, which was technically true. “You’ve put on weight,” she observed with a broad grin, giving me a playful poke in the belly. “I see you barely fit into your chair now.” I was embarrassed beyond belief that she’d noticed my weight gain, having never mentioned my size before. It didn’t help that Miss Fuentes was small and lean and I felt like an elephant next to her. And though she was older — my mom’s age — she was very attractive. “Do you like it?” she asked. I stared back in confusion — like it? Of course I didn’t. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, and every pound I put on made it worse. “I mean, on some level you must,” she asserted. “Right?” She had her hands on my belly now, but gentle, barely touching it. I could smell her perfume. “I like it a lot, actually,” she whispered. Her hands drifted downward beneath the apron of stomach flab, held up by my polo shirt. Tucked into my trousers, with my belt tight like a tourniquet inside the crease where my bulging midriff met my hips, the shirt was like a bra, the only thing keeping my flabby belly from hanging down completely over my crotch. “So heavy!” she marveled, trying to lift it all. I watched her face flush and her nipples grow stiff beneath her blouse. She started pushing up one side and then the other, creating waves, and my hips, thighs, and love handles started moving as well, along with my fat ass of course. “My god, it’s like jelly,” she whispered. “Do you mind?” I did and I didn’t, and either way my silence was enough encouragement for her to keep going. “Take your pants off,” she said, backing up. I lifted my stomach and dug deep for my belt buckle, breathless for a second as my abdominal fat was pushed up into my lungs. I usually took it off laying down so it was quite the effort loosening it, though I was grateful for the relief. It was even better when I unbuttoned my pants, letting all that compressed flesh inside free. Given my shape I couldn’t let my trousers drop, but had to peel them off my hips and shimmy them over the great curve of my ass, and then pull them down my thighs — like a fat woman. It was exhausting. “Now your underwear.” I wore long-legged boxer briefs because of constant chafing between my thighs, and those were hardly easier to roll down. They were size 3XL but still snug, and I ripped the waistband in my haste to please Miss Fuentes. As I stepped out of both garments, one foot at a tme, I could feel all of my fat parts bounce and wobble. In fact I was shaking even beneath my fat as she approached, a hungry look in her eye. She then went down to her knees in front of me and peered between my thighs, up towards the lowest part of my now-free hanging stomach. “Where is it?” she asked, and at first I didn’t understand what she meant, but then she lifted my belly once more with a grunt and felt around with her free hand. “What if you sit down?” she suggested, lowering my belly and standing up again. I knew the answer — that it would be even worse, as my thighs would bulge together with my belly on top and it was totally buried — but I obliged nonetheless, letting her guide me to her chair. My shirt was still on so she stripped it off and I was now totally nude. My hips stuck out through the open armrests of her chair and I felt my lovehandles and huge ass pushing me foreward. Like with the student chairs, I barely fit. “My god, you’re so fat,” she gasped. “And look at this!” She was now at my side, pushing at my hips and ass, the pillowy parts that flowed out and over the arm rests. I then realized her other hand was down her pants, rubbing at her crotch. I sat still for several minutes, letting her play with my fat, until she started to moan, and then cry out. She pulled her hand out from her waistband and then covered my nose and mouth with it. I’d heard women’s privates smelled fishy but hers wasn’t like that, strong but more meaty and greasy, like a McDonald’s hamburger. I was totally revolted yet fascinated. “You should go,” she said, after leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
>>575 I was in a strange state all the way home, like a dream. Once inside I didn’t even take off my shoes before I headed to the kitchen and began pulling boxes and bags of cookies and chips and cereal out of the pantry, as much as I could carry in both arms (it was handy using the shelf of my middle for that task) and then pulling a chair up to the refrigerator and eating and eating and eating until I was sure I’d burst, where I had to close my lips with my fingers to chew one final bite. But then I’d eat more, to where I could hardly breathe, where the upper part of my stomach was so distended it actually pulled up the much larger, flabbier lower part. I needed to get my pants off, feeling like I was gonna be suffocated by my belt, but I was so full I could hardly move, and when I did I heard the chair creak and then something snapped and I tumbled to the floor. I landed on my extremely well-padded hip so I just rolled over like a walrus, puking a big torrent of half-masticated food onto the floor beside me as I went. I was happy that now I could eat even more, and just stayed where I was, reaching what bags and boxes I could and stuffing myself til I had to spit out the last bite, lest I choke myself. It took hours for me to digest and recover enough to get off the floor, and I had to do so in stages, I was so exhausted. I binged all the time but rarely went so hard, and besides the pure physical strain of it on my system, I couldn’t help wondering how much fatter I’d made myself. I was so fat and heavy already I could hardly afford even one more pound and yet the way I was going it would be three or four more by next week, and then the week after, and the week after that. Soon I wouldn’t fit into the desks at all at school, and then what would I do? “Oh hi honey — let me just finish… this… up.” My mom was on her Bluetooth and I could hear her long nails tapping away at her laptop, though it was still before dawn in Singapore. “What’s up? How was first day of school?” she asked. “Fine,” I said. “But I’m bored. I think I’m too smart for XY Academy.” “Yeah, I was worried about that,” she sighed. “But I bought that house for you just so you’d be close enough to walk to it. You don’t want to move again, do you?” “No, I like it here.” I looked down at the disaster on the kitchen floor, wondering what I’d say to Lucia, the maid, when she arrived later to make me dinner. I had food and vomit on my shirt too, and my pants. “Well then…” “How about a tutor?” She paused and I heard more typing. She was an expert multitasker. “Hmm,” she said finally. “But won’t you miss your friends?” “I don’t have any friends.” “I’ll think about it.” “But mom —” “Sorry honey — that’s Saint Petersburg calling, gotta go.” She hung up. Lucia thought we’d been burgled but I told her I’d taken a nap after school, and that maybe I’d sleepwalked into the kitchen and destroyed it. She laughed, shook her head and then cleaned it all up. Then she made me dinner, a huge pot of her amazing chicken and rice. She told me she made the same amount for her whole family, though I was able to finish it by myself. Of course there were no sweets left in the kitchen, so Lucia ran out and bought me a gallon of dulce de leche ice cream for dessert. Lucia went back home after cleaning everything up and I took a bath, the jacuzzi tub that my mom had installed. It technically fit two people, or one of me. I loved being in the bath, as I didn’t feel as heavy. Fat is less dense than water and I’m mostly fat, so it makes sense. I tried to jerk off to the memory of the smell of Miss Fuentes’ pussy but I was still so full I couldn’t really reach over my belly and between my legs. It was frustrating and finally after exhausting myself I tried to squeeze my thighs together to create some friction, then rolled over so I could rub myself on the bench seat. Laying on my stomach I was very much aware how my ass floated above the soapy water, sort of bobbing around. It was like it was literally inflated and I liked the sensation a lot. I wanted to stick something up beneath those big balloon cheeks of mine but there was no way I could reach back there. It was hard enough cleaning my crack with my sponge on a stick. But imagining it was good enough, and with pushing my cock up against my FUPA, the pressure of my belly pushing down, I managed to orgasm, thinking of Miss Fuentes masturbating and then putting her wet hand over my face.
>>576 Weeks went on and I continued to gain weight. Mostly in my ass (as always), and my hips and thighs as well, but elsewhere too. I was both alarmed and fascinated by my tits, which were becoming big and bouncy enough for a bra. My love handles were also growing so swollen they were like a second ass, stacked on top of the original. I now walked with a full-on waddle, and when I caught my reflection in profile I realized I was leaning forward to balance out my rear end. Still I binged nearly every night and all day long on weekends. I wanted to stop, knowing I should, but I loved eating more than anything. The sensation of stuffing myself to the brim and then pushing in yet more food was as good as masturbation. In fact I started combining both activities, laying on my stomach and humping the floor while I used both hands to pack food into my face. Some days I swore I could actually watch myself getting bigger. A month into second semester I’d outgrown most of my clothes and got money from my mom to order new, larger stuff, preferably made out of stretchy material or at least pants with elastic waistbands. I bought a black vest to hide my tits, which were big enough to garner even more attention than my ass. Even with a belt, the only way I could wear my pants so was to pull them up over my belly and love handles, so the waistband was right at my chest. I knew I looked ridiculous but it was what I had to do. Miss Fuentes must have really regretted what she’d done that first day of the semester, because though she was still nice to me, she was all business when I stayed after. She did mention my weight, but seemed more concerned than turned on by it. Eventually she asked about my parents and I told her the truth, that my dad was dead and my mom traveled most of the year for work. I had plenty of money and help with chores, shopping and such but I was on my own, and I really preferred it that way. She told me I could come to her if I needed anything and I appreciated that. Besides my friendship with Miss Fuentes, not having to attend PE was another bright spot. I was in all advanced classes so now I only had to deal with Rob and his gang in the halls. They’d grab and poke at me but there was limited time between classes and at least I had my clothes on. But the issue with the desks was only becoming more accute. One day in math class I wedged myself in so tight I got stuck and needed help from the teacher, Mister Roth. He was fat himself but still pretty unsympathetic, and told me I was too much of a distraction, that I’d need to arrange for a separate desk and chair in all my classes. It shouldn’t have mattered, as I was already the school freak, but the idea of having to make that kind of arrangement really bothered me for some reason. I didn’t only “not fit in” at school — I literally didn’t FIT. “Hey honey, how was school?” “It was okay, but that’s what I wanted to talk about…” I heard my mom stop typing. “What’s up?” “It’s time for a tutor. I really can’t take it anymore. I’m just so bored, and they refuse to let me skip a grade.” “Okay, okay, you know what’s best,” she sighed. “Do you have anyone in mind?” “I’ll ask around,” I told her. Tuition at XY Academy was pretty expensive so the good news was that by dropping out I could probably hire whoever I wanted. The problem was that I didn’t know where to start — the Yellow Pages? The next day I was helping Miss Fuentes at the end of the day and decided to ask her if she wanted to consider it. I was sure my mom could afford more than she was making at XY Academy. She was the one person I could be honest with, about the desks, and everything else having to do with my weight. She never judged me, never told me I should diet. “Perry I’m flattered,” she said, smiling. “But I’m getting close to my pension here and frankly this is a good job. I can’t take off two years just to tutor one student — they’ll never allow it. Also I’m not really trained in other subjects, just English and Social Studies.” “I can teach myself,” I told her. “I just needs someone to administer the tests and log the assignments.” “Sorry, I really can’t. But I’ll ask around.” I was surprised when the next day she told me she’d found someone. “A good friend of mine, actually,” Miss Fuentes explained. “I thought of her right away but didn’t want to get your hopes up til I asked her. Anyway, she teaches at the public high school downtown and is desperate to leave. She wants to meet you tomorrow, if that’s okay.” It was more than okay, and I stayed home from school that day. Feeling like freedom was so close made going back to XY Academy that much harder.
>>577 Miss Wentworth surprised me at first glance, as I wasn’t expecting someone so fat. For some stupid reason I assumed that because Miss Fuentes was so thin her friends would be as well. But in fact Miss Wentworth was my size or perhaps a little bigger. It wasn’t as notable however because her enormous ass and hips made far more sense on a woman in her 40s, while on a teenage boy they were just freakish. But if I shocked her she didn’t show it, as perhaps Miss Fuentes had told her about my big, strange body. It embarassed me to imagine how she’d describe me, but excited me as well for some reason. Anyway we weren’t total mirror images however, as she was shorter than I and had a very large, matronly bosom, as opposed to my moderate-sized boobs (“moderate” for a woman, that is). She also had a thick double chin, neck rolls, and fat, jiggly jowls, unlike my face which was roundish but actually one of the leaner parts of my body. In fact from the neck-up I hardly looked fat at all. Despite her big boobs and overall womanly figure, there was something slightly mannish about her. Her hair was short, she wore very little makeup, and her outfit was a loose, shapeless sort of sweatsuit ensemble in dark green. She had a deep voice as well, that was somewhere between male and female. A good teacher’s voice, I supposed, as I felt myself paying attention to everything she said. “This is a really nice house,” she observed as I led her inside. “My mom makes a lot of money,” I explained. “And where is she?” “This week? Buenos Aires, I think.” I was oddly more self-conscious with another fat person than I was with someone slim like Miss Fuentes. Watching her waddle and listening to her heavy breathing made me more aware of my own. Her thighs rubbed together like mine and made similar sounds as well. When we sat down at the kitchen table our huge asses spread out wide in tandem and hung off the chairs, our weight making them creak. Lucia brought us drinks and a snack, but I was hungry so I told Lucia to go ahead and make us lunch. I’d held off eating anything since breakfast, as I knew once I started I wouldn’t stop til I was stuffed, and didn’t want to be full and gassy for her. It was actually somewhat late for lunch though when Lucia told her she was heating up chicken pot pies Miss Wentworth seemed happy to indulge. “It’s kind of weird that your parents aren’t here,” she said, smiling. “My mom trusts me,” I told her. “You live all alone here?” “Yeah. Lucia comes in six days a week to cook and clean but that’s it.” She then told me she’d been to Columbia Teachers College and had a masters in Education. She’d been working downtown twenty years and so qualified for a pension, and was not ready to retire but was looking for a new experience. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when I told her the salary, as I had permission from my mom to give her my entire XY Academy tuition as a fee. “I know I shouldn’t turn down free money, but I feel like that’s a lot for 30 hours a week,” she admitted. “How about we do an intensive instruction and we get you graduated in a year, rather than two?” That sounded good to me. “And in the meantime I’m planning on taking a trip around the world in a few years and I’d love to save some extra money,” she added. “I know this sounds weird, but since you live all alone here in this big house, what do you think about me moving in? That way I wouldn’t have to commute and we could work whenever you’re in the mood, we wouldn’t have to be on a schedule.” At first I wasn’t sure, as it seemed rather forward of her, but it made more sense as I thought about it. I told her I’d have to clear it with my mom. “Of course,” she said. “Totally up to you guys, I’ll take the gig either way.” Our lunch was ready and Miss Wentworth laughed when Lucia put the pie in front of her. Looking at it through her eyes, I realized it was maybe odd to eat an entire pot pie by oneself, much less two which was a typical lunch for me, and tater-tots as well. “Delicious,” she said, digging in. I agreed, nodding as I was unable to talk, wolfing mine down as usual. “No wonder you’re so fat.” My head shot up from my plate and I nearly dropped my fork, stung by the insult. “Relax,” she chuckled, holding her bosom which shook with her laughter. “I’m fat too, right? It’s no big deal. I figure we just put it on the table.” I started to shake but then calmed down, breath by breath, thinking about what she was actually saying. “I think it’s silly to pretend it’s a secret. I mean, what’s more obvious than the size of your body… And who says it’s a bad thing? It just ‘is’, right?” “I guess so,” I admitted, returning to my pie. “Anyway a lot of folks find fat people attractive,” she added, shoving an extra large forkful into her mouth. “Trust me, it’s different when you’re an adult. I mean, I’m really into fat guys myself.” That surprised me. I’d always understood implicitly that fat was the most disgusting, unattractive characteristic you could have when it came to sexual attraction. You never saw fat men or women on TV or in the movies as leads or romantic partners, unless it was a comedy. “Yeah, and I’ve been with lots of guys — and women — who like me just how I am. And I’ll let you in on another secret,” she said. I stopped chewing, looking at her eagerly. “A lot of my partners actually want me bigger.”
>>578 Naturally my mom was skeptical at first about Miss Wentworth moving in, but they had a conversation about it and it was decided we’d move ahead with the plan on a trial basis. Miss Wentworth brought her bags over the following week and Lucia set her up in the guest suite, which was really its own full-on separate house, attached by a corridor that ran over the garage. She was wearing another androgynous outfit that day, work-style denims and a man’s oxford shirt. She busied herself setting up her living quarters while I read and napped. We had dinner together that first night, planning to start “school” the next morning. Again I deliberately hadn’t binged that day, as I was generally useless afterwards for hours while I digested and recovered. Thus as we sat down I was actually HUNGRY, for the first time I could remember. Most of the time I ate because I was bored, or anxious, or just that I liked to eat, and there was always plenty of food around. At that point I realized there would be another, unforseen advantage to Miss Wentworth being on the premesis, as maybe it would calm down my overeating somewhat. Lucia made fettucine alfredo with garlic bread and a huge salad with creamy caesar dressing and Miss Wentworth loved it, giving the housekeeper unending complements as she went back and forth to the kitchen. I was only going to have one big bowl and one side of garlic bread but when Miss Wentworth asked for seconds I did too, and then we went on to thirds. “Ooh, I’m definitely gonna get fat living here,” she mentioned, taking a break as she leaned back and dug beneath her boobs and belly to undo the button on her jeans. “I mean, fatter.” “Yeah, well I guess that’s what happened to me,” I admitted. I surprised myself, as I never talked about my weight — it was just too humiliating. “Ah, you would have been fat either way,” she said. “You were born that way, a big butterball. Are your parents fat?” “No. My dad is dead but he was slim when he was alive. And my mom is kinda, you know, curvy but that’s just because she’s in her forties now. Not really fat.” Miss Wentworth smirked at the “forties” comment. “Huh. My whole family are whales,” she told me. “My parents, all four grandparents, my sisters, aunt, uncles, cousins. And when thin people marry in, they eventually get fat too.” The idea excited me and though I didn’t know why, I wanted to know more about it. We were on fourths now, neither of us slowing down. I felt the same kind of urgent excitement I had when I was binging, half out of my head. Just a black hole inside me, needing to be filled. “So who’s the, um, biggest person in your family?” I asked, through a mouthful of pasta and cream sauce. “My Uncle Bart for sure,” she said, slurping up her own noodles. “His belly is down to his knees and he’s got moobs so big he can’t lay on his back or they push up into his neck and he can’t breathe. He’s got these rolls under his arms too, so he can’t really put them down at his sides. It’s amazing he can walk, honestly, but he gets around okay.” I was shifting in my seat now, picturing Uncle Bart and his useless arms waving around at his sides. I imagined him with a bushy beard and huge cheeks that puffed in and out as he struggled to breathe. “Anyone else?” I asked, breathless now myself. “My sister. Imagine me but blonde and with another 200 pounds — just all hips and butt. My god, she’s so fat… She uses a walker to get around, and she’s on oxygen a lot of the time. But her husband is a total FA, he wouldn’t have her any other way. That’s what I was talking about before.” I’d never heard of an “eff-ay” but I figured I’d learn soon enough. “And are you married?” “Nope,” Miss Wentworth said, and lifted her hand so show off her bare, chubby ring finger. “I could never make up my mind, girls versus boys.” She looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows while I sat there speechless. I thought she was being funny earlier when she talked about “men — and women” but now I realized she was actually bisexual. I was attracted to both men and women myself but I’d never met anyone like that, at least knowingly. “Full disclosure, Miss Fuentes and I have an on and off thing,” she admitted. “Is that okay?” “Well, ah, sure,” I said, nearly choking up my last bite of fettucine. “Now, she’s a good example of someone who really loves her fatties. She thinks you’re super-hot.” I held my fork in mid-air, hardly believing what I was hearing. Surely she was putting me on. “Yup, she does,” Miss Wentworth insisted. “She even confessed to me she maybe went a little too far with you at the beginning of the semester. You know what she’s talking about?” Of course I did but I dared not admit it. “Okay, okay, sorry,” she said with a laugh, holding her quaking boobs again. “Too much, I know. I forget you’re so young.”
>>579 She changed the subject to schoolwork, subjects I liked the most and the least, as well as ones I was good at, and those where I needed improvement. It was a short and rather halting conversation though, as we were both seriously stuffed after five bowls of pasta and countless sides of garlic bread. The salad remained mostly uneaten, of course. Lucia began cleaning up and put dessert into the oven, two apple pies. Normally that would just be my dessert, but I supposed I’d have to share it with Miss Wentworth. Which somehow I didn’t mind. “Hey, just one thing,” my tutor said, leaning back and rubbing her swollen belly through her shirt. Her breasts seemed bigger as well, like they were going to pop out through her buttons at any second. “You know my whole situation over there is awesome.” She meant the guest suite. “But there’s one little thing — the bath.” I was confused what she meant. Did it not work? Was the drain clogged? “It’s, well, standard-sized,” she explained. “And I am definitely not.” She burped, loudly, and then apologized with a giggle. I hadn’t been over there since I’d moved in, but I vaguely remember that being the case. Only the master bathroom — mine — had the full-sized jacuzzi tub. “Oh, oops,” I said, belching myself. My belly was throbbing but it was pleasant, not painful like it often was after a full-on binge. “Are there any other options?” she asked. “I like to soak at the end of the day, it’s good for my joints.” I told her about my jacuzzi tub. “Would you mind?” “No, of course not,” I said. “How about tonight?” “Um, yeah, sure.” Our appetites recharged somewhat in the 20 minutes it took to ready the pies, which Lucia served with vanilla ice cream, a full pint for each of us. We were stuffed to the point of speechlessness as Lucia cleaned up around us, and finally, maybe fifteen minutes after the housekeeper left for the night, Miss Wentworth stirred. “How about that tub?” she asked. “Want to show me how it works?” Slow and lurching, holding walls and furniture as we went, we waddled back to my bedroom. “I still can’t believe this is all yours,” she marveled, passing by my king-sized bed and walk-in closets. The bathroom was actually more impressive, seeing it through her eyes. “Wow,” she said. “Now that tub is fit for a king — or queen.” “All yours,” I told her, happy to make her happy. “Wait,” she said, as I turned to leave. “What about you? Did you already have a bath today?” I hadn’t. “You think it can fit both of us?” she asked. “Been a little while since I’ve had someone to help get all my nooks and crannies, right? It’ll be fun.” The way she was offering made it seem normal and natural. Almost like it would be weird for me not to say yes. “Uh, sure, fine,” I stammered as she began to unbutton her shirt. I looked down at my t-shirt and stretch khakis like they were alien objects. “You usually take baths with your clothes on?” she joked. “No.” “Come on, I’ve seen dudes all shapes and sizes.” “Like me?” “Well, not really,” she admitted. “But first time for everything, no? I doubt you’ve seen a woman my size starkers.” She laughed, and with her shirt open I could watch her boobs quiver inside her bra. Which was huge yet seemed a little small on her, her cleavage bulging a bit out of the top. “Yeah, I’ve got big ol’ titties,” she said, and lifted them with both hands through her shirt, smiling proudly. “Let’s see yours now.” I slowly took off my shirt and cringed as I dropped it next to me and putt my arms down so my boobs settled back down on my chest. “Gorgeous,” Miss Wentworth whispered. “Now the rest of you.” I sat down slowly on the tub platform, vividly conscious of how my belly and hips spread out and filled my pants like a tan balloon. I leaned back and undid my belt and then the top button of my pants, letting out a sigh of relief, briefly forgetting I had an audience. “Oh I know, trust me,” she laughed. “Best feeling in the world, right? Imagine what taking your bra off is like at the end of the day.” Her shirt was off now and I could see more than her boobs quiver as her shoulders, middle and upper arms were fat and flabby as well. She then lifted it up, one cup and then the other from under her breasts, letting them flop down onto her stomach, and ran her arms through the straps. “Et voila,” she announced, putting her hands on her hips. Her breasts were saggy and stretchmarked, nipples hanging straight down to just short of her navel, which was a horizontal slit between fat folds four inches wide. I stood back up and peeled off my pants, Miss Wentworth doing the same. “Now those are some thunder thighs,” she said as I stepped out of my pants. I felt them jiggle like the jello bags they were, so much bigger and flabbier now than even a few months ago. And ever since Rob had pointed it out in PE, I did notice I had cellulite along the sides of them, though nothing like Miss Wentworth’s. Outside of the confines of her jeans, her thighs were like sacks of golf balls, barely a smooth inch to be seen with loads of broken veins and weird little bruises. She had saddlebags at the tops that hung down, creating deep folds at the sides, and thick, flabby bulges inside. Just like me, her crotch was covered by her saggy belly, though hers way saggier than mine. “Gravity is a bitch, huh?” she sighed, lifting her belly to just above her pubic hair and letting it flop down. The impact created rippling waves across both thighs and up her torso to her breasts. Not only had I never seen a woman her size naked; I’d never seen any woman naked, at least up close and in person. All I’d seen were men, or rather boys, in the locker room, and though I’d seen fat boys as well, this was the first time I’d seen another person’s body like mine. I was mesmerized. “Now let me see that ass,” she said with a giggle, making a twirling motion with her finger for me to turn around. I did as I was told, holding my breath as I imagined her reaction. I’d never seen it myself, really, just glimpses and reflections, but I imagined it was grotesque. “A real bubble butt,” she marvelled. “So round…” I flinched as I felt her hand on it, but unlike the boys in the showers, she was gentle. “But so soft!” she added. “Wow. Want to see mine now?” I certainly did and so we both turned around, and she shifted her stance, making it wiggle. It too was covered in dimples and had deep folds where her buttocks met her hips. They were droopy like the rest of her, hanging halfway down the backs of her thighs. “What do you think?” she asked, reaching back to pinch its side. “Not as nice as yours, of course, but let’s check back when you’re my age, right?” She laughed and her ass shook just as vigorously as her boobs or anything else on her fat, flabby body. “Now let’s get clean,” she declared, turning back around.
>>580 It was quite the challenge getting us both in there. We decided I should climb in first, and I was both excited and humiliated feeling my fat squeeze and stretch and fold as I struggled with the process. Even beyond my size I was incredibly awkward and weak and so I more rolled into the tub than actually climbed, letting gravity and inertia do the work my tiny, well-buried muscles couldn’t. Then once seated, I helped her in and just holding her hand to steady her, I was surprised by her weight, the power of such a big body. If she fell on me I’d certainly kill her, as I would her. Finally she plopped down next to me, and we filled the entire bench seat with our asses. There was some room to move but not much. “You know what?” she said, smiling bashfully. “What?” “We forgot to fill it.” I laughed at our stupidity and turned on the tap, both of us cringing and giggling as we felt the still-cold water pool at our feet. Eventually it went warm and then hot, and it didn’t take long to fill with so much of our fat bodies to displace the water. Her breasts were floating, colliding into each other and then separating as she the water surged over her chest. I turned on the jets and she let out a little cry, surprised. “Ah, this is nice,” she then moaned, sliding down as I passed her a bar of soap. Her boobs stayed on the surface, crowding near her face as she submerged up to her chin. “So you must jerk off like a zoo monkey in here, right?” “I, uh,” I stuttered. “No…” She sniffed out a laugh and reached for my crotch but came up with a handful of belly. “Show me how you do it,” she insisted. “Come on,” I mumbled. “I do it too. Everybody does.” “I, ah, I have to turn over,” I told her. “So go ahead.” That would put my gigantic ass right in her face, but she was practically demanding it, so I did as I was told. Alone in there I was actually quite graceful, like a fat but agile sea mammal, but sharing it with her enormous body made it awkward. “Ooh, look at that,” she cooed, as I worked my way into position. Of course she was talking about my rear end, and I felt her gentle hands on it again, pushing it down below the water’s surface and then letting it bob back up. I liked it more than I wanted to admit. “That thing is all fat, like mine. Not a muscle in there, right?” “I know, I hate it,” I mumbled. “Do you?” she asked, and I felt her move closer, her breasts on my buttocks, her stomach on the backs of my thighs. We were both so soft and squishy, the sensuality of it made me hard despite my nervousness. “I mean, do you hate it? Or just how people make you feel about it?” Without thinking I began to push myself down on the bench, my FUPA working the top of my cock. “There you go,” she moaned, pushing in further. I felt a hand go between my thighs, deep inside the cavernous cleft, places I couldn’t reach myself anymore. Her other hand was now pushing and squeezing my ass, letting the butter-soft flesh flow between her fingers. I surprised myself as I came, not ready for it. I shuddered and felt Miss Wentworth pull back. “Mmm, felt good, huh?” she asked. “Sorry,” I said. “For what?” “I don’t know.” “That’s alright,” she insisted. “New sensations… So how about we get each other nice and clean now?” The water was soapy enough that she could just work her hands between my legs, inside my crotch. She felt my balls, my asshole, my now-shrunken shaft. I slid back around and she ran her hands under my belly and up to my breasts. I flinched when she leaned forward and took my nipple into her mouth. I was hard again, feeling her boobs and leg against me. “My turn,” she said, turning herself over. Her rolls of back fat shivered, and her gigantic ass wobbling around made the water splash over the sides of the tub. “Mine floats too,” she observed, and indeed it did. I took the soap and ran the bar down her crack, til I felt her asshole. I rubbed around it, as she had mine and she writhed and moaned, splashing more water. “I guess we’re kind of too fat to fuck, right?” she mused, looking back over her shoulder. I was too humiliated to say anything. Indeed I wanted to put myself inside her but there was just no way. Maybe if one of us was anything close to normal size… “That’s okay,” she said, giggling, turning herself back over. “There are workarounds.” At that she lifted herself out of the tub like a giant sea monster, water pouring off her round, fleshy body in sheets. She placed her ass on the edge, letting it spread across and out over the platform. . “Get in front of me,” she ordered. I obliged and then she put her foot on my shoulder. I almost collapsed beneath it, heavy as it was and weak as I was. She then lifted her belly to reveal her pussy, which was shaved but stubbly, and bulbous, just a vertical slit that disappeared between the fat, white bulges of her inner thighs. I had no idea what to do. “Put your face in their and lick, fat boy,” she commanded. “I’ll direct you where to go.” I did as I was told, her thighs closing around my ears like pillows as I smelled and tasted the stuff between. The smell was sort of what I recalled from Miss Fuentes but having been in the bath, less sharp and more soapy. My tongue hit a hard little nub amid all the mushiness and I felt her shiver, thinking I must have done something right. The only problem was that I couldn’t breathe. “ANGH” I heard her moan as I pulled my head out, gasping. “Sorry, I couldn’t breathe…” I muttered. With the one hand still holding back her belly, the other began working her FUPA, then one and two fingers made their way into the slit. She was leaning all the way back now, her head against the wall. Her feet on the bench, the enormously flabby backs of her thighs hung down and splashed in the water as she pushed her knees together and apart, looking like they were going to fall off. I reached down to my own junk, moving in all directions before I was able to get a decent hold on it. My other hand fondled my belly and my breasts, squeezing the nipple like Keith had back in PE class. Miss Wentworth was starting to shudder, her body wobbling and bobbling like nothing I’d seen, her hand working her pussy like an out of control machine. She yelped finally, let go of herself and shuddered. I came as well and collapsed back down onto the bench, my thighs and belly pushing my hand away as they buried my cock again. “Mmm,” she moaned. “That was awesome.” I didn’t know what to say, a storm of emotions raging through me — shame, excitement, confusion, relief. And one question at the front of my mind: Was I still a virgin?
>>581 Holy shit this story is fantastic
>>582 Hey thanks! I've got a bunch of stuff on DA though it's fat women, no males. Also compared to this it's more story than sexy stuff so be warned... https://www.deviantart.com/mrwrong1/gallery/55924970/mm-s-house-of-bbw-noir
>>584 Best to start with my short stuff, more to-the-point... https://www.deviantart.com/mrwrong1/gallery/65822525/short-reads
Big fan of yours MrWrong! Can’t wait to see more Shiva or waddling dead!
>>595 Thanks so much! More of both coming soon(ish).
>>581 Damn this is good. Do you think you could continue this story so the main character eventually ends up immobile and at the mercy of his tutor (and maybe nurse)?
>>613 Thanks! Yeah, thinking about pretty much exactly that... stay tuned.
>>581 If I felt a little weird, greeting Miss Wentworth in the kitchen the next morning, she seemed wholly unfazed by what had gone down the night before. “Good morning Perry. Care for a little breakfast?” Her version of “a little” breakfast was even more distorted than mine. Lucia had been hard at work, the table packed to the edges with scrambled eggs, pancakes, french toast, sausage, bacon, biscuits, bagels, muffins, pineapple and peaches in syrup, and more. I was ravenous, moreso than usual, as I hadn’t had my usual midnight snack. I’d been so drained from our hot tub experience that I’d slept straight through the night for a change. “Uh, sure,” I mumbled, while Lucia kept shooting me smirky looks as she cleaned the pots and pans. Did she know what happened? But how…? Either way I felt myself blush. Miss Wentworth’s barge-sized bottom was spread over two chairs and she wore a white, nearly see-through nightgown. It seemed awfully intimate for a tutor, not to mention she wasn’t even wearing a bra! Again I looked at Lucia but she was busy scrubbing pans, humming some weird song from her homeland. The nightgown was likely meant to be loose and flowy but fit her rather snugly down there, what I could see of her behind the table. Somehow the garment made her look even fatter than when she was naked last night. Transfixed now, I watched her pile sausage and eggs onto a slice of french toast, fold it in half and then dip it into a pool of syrup and melted butter in her plate. I licked my lips and felt my stomach gurgle with anticipation. Miss Wentworth leaned forward, her huge, braless boobs pushing into the edge of the table. She opened her mouth wide and pushed the breakfast “sandwich” inside. “Mmmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she struggled to chew it all. I felt the same stirring in my groin, again remembering our activities last night. I sat down across from her, snapping out of my horny reverie as I was reminded how big my own bottom was, and how it hung over the edges of the chair and strained the seams on my pajamas. I’d preemptively rolled the waistband down under my belly (otherwise I literally couldn’t sit down) and I cringed as I heard a few more stitches tear open at the hips and behind me. I pulled my t-shirt out from my side rolls and from under my tits and stretched it down over my stomach. “You need talk to your mother,” Lucia said, shaking her head and drying her hands as she approached the table. “This much more work, cook for two.” “Of course,” I told her. “I’ll call her today and make sure you’re compensated.” “Is okay, the money,” she assured me, smiling and patting me on the shoulder. “But maybe I need help.” “Help?” “My daughter, Rosales, she need job. Is okay?” “It is going to be a lot more work,” Miss Wentworth said, between T Rex-sized bites. “If your mom can afford it…” “Uh, okay I’ll ask,” I assured Lucia. Of course my mom could afford it. Lucia smiled, gave me another pat and went back to the sink. I’d met her daughter a few times but hadn’t seen her in years. She’d be in her twenties now, I figured. What would she think of me? I was probably 150 heavier than the last time she’d seen me. And more important, what would she think of the situation with Miss Wentworth? “Eat up,” my tutor said, snapping me back to reality. “We have a lot of work to do today.” Before me was easily four times as much food as I usually consumed for breakfast, not that I was a light eater at any meal. I wondered if Lucia had overdone it at Miss Wentworth’s request and felt guilty. I started with a modest plate, for me at least: one pancake, one slice of french toast, a few spoons of eggs, and a biscuit. In the cold light of day I really did want to lose weight, or at least not gain any more. I caught Miss Wentworth smirking at me, knowing what she was thinking, but ignored her. She was my tutor, after all. What was it her business what I ate? But when I finished I was hungrier than when I’d started. Who was I kidding? Besides being a nervous eater (and bored eater, and angry eater, and so on) I was the type who had to clean his plate, and every platter. So I was actually more nervous than grateful looking at all the food that remained. I took a bit more this time, and more the next, and the next, until I just forgot about my plate altogether and just started feeding from the platters. Lucia left to go shopping but I barely heard her say goodbye as I stuffed myself two-handed, lost in my own world. The platters were nearly clean as I collapsed back into my chair, hearing it creak in agony beneath my punishing weight. And speaking of agony, my stomach felt horribly strained, almost as bad as my worst binges. “You okay, Perry?” Miss Wentworth asked, sipping coffee. In my fury to devour everything on the table I’d lost track of what she’d eaten. I knew it was a lot, if far less than my share. “Yeah,” I whispered, though not actually sure. “That was impressive.” “That was horrible — sorry,” I belched. “I don’t know what came over me.” “Lucia is a good cook. You’re lucky.” I wasn’t so sure about that. “Okay,” she grunted, pushing her chairs back with a scrape and lifting her mammoth form from behind the table. “I’ll give you a few minutes to digest while I get dressed. Meet me in the living room in fifteen minutes.” She then wobbled out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the guest suite, her obscenely fat, flabby buttocks sans-underwear as well. I hated myself for having lost control like that and didn’t know what I would do, as it would take me at least an hour to recover. I was way too woozy to learn anything — I couldn’t even move. Maybe this was a bad idea, I thought. But how could I tell Miss Wentworth that?
>>616 Awesome! Looking forward to that.
>>617 Thankfully there was no lesson as such. I’d barely managed to haul my overstuffed body into the living room and flop down onto the couch, wondering how I’d stay awake. As it was, when Miss Wentworth gave me a few pages of multiple choice tests to fill out, I had to lay back and use my bloated belly as a writing surface because there was no way I could lean forward to use the coffee table. They were random questions that covered everything from basic biology to quantum physics. I was able to answer all but a couple of them and she seemed impressed. “How’d you learn all this at your age?” she asked. She was wearing a huge black cotton dress though sleeveless and showing a lot of cleavage. She was now wearing a bra, I noted, and it actually made her boobs look bigger, as they were more visible, lifted high on her chest and thrust outward like the noses of jet planes. “I spend a lot of time at home, reading,” I confessed, stifling the millionth belch of the morning. “I’ve never had any friends and I never played sports or anything. My mom got me the complete Encyclopedia Brittanica when I was nine and I’ve read the whole thing, and I pretty much lived at the library where I used to live.” I was half-embarassed now, half-proud to have admitted all that. “Wow,” she marveled. “Let’s see how you do at math.” She handed me another test and adjusted her bra strap, giving her bosom a nice jiggle. “Boys like big boobies, huh?” She surprised me and I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. She assured me I had. “Sorry, I shouldn’t distract you like this,” she said. “This is so casual, I’m dressed like I’m just laying around the house. I was always careful to cover up when I taught Downtown. Otherwise all the boys would stare at me.” “You should, ah, dress how you want,” I told her. “Okay then, I will,” she chuckled. “But only if you can concentrate on your work.” I wasn’t quite as proficient with trigonometry and advanced calculus as I was with physics and chemistry, but I still felt pretty confident as I handed over the second test. My breakfast was finally starting to digest so I could sit up straight. “We have a problem,” she announced, after scanning my answers. “What’s that?” “I really don’t know what I can teach you in these subjects.” I thought she was joking but her expression said otherwise. “Really?” “Yeah, and unless you’re realIy dumb in History and English — which I doubt — I’d say you’re probably ready to graduate.” For a second I was excited but then realized what that meant. “And do what?” “I don’t know,” she said. “Take the ACTs and go to college, I assume. I can help you and your mom file the paperwork so you can skip junior and senior year.” I started to sweat, feeling my cheeks go hot. A new school of any kind was the last thing I wanted. Entering XY Academy was traumatic enough. I couldn’t imagine going to college as a 15 year old, not to mention a morbidly obese, monster-assed one. “What’s wrong?” she asked. She looked concerned, and I realized I was crying. “I’m too fat for college,” I declared, hearing my voice break on the last word. “Too fat for anywhere. I just want to be home.” “Ah,” Miss Wentworth sighed, and gave my belly a soft caress. I flinched but then relaxed. It felt good. “I get it. But I assure you, bigger boys than you go to college.” “That’s just it — fat *boys* do. But I have the body of a big woman. I’m a freak.” “Yeah, you’re different-looking,” she admitted. “But so what? I’ve been fat all my life too. In fact I used to be even bigger than I am now. People are sometimes awkward when we first meet but then its usually okay. And if it’s not, you probably don’t want to know that person anyway, right?” I’d hardly realized she now had her hand beneath my belly, lifting it gently off my fat thighs. She was leaning in, pushing herself into me, so soft it was like being covered in a heavy, massive blanket. “Anyway, if you’d like we can just go through the motions here at home,” she said. “You can do self-study and I’ll give you the tests as scheduled. I was planning on taking my big trip next summer so you have at least a year to figure out what you want to do after that.” That sounded like a fantastic idea, and I felt like kissing her. But before I knew it she was kissing me! She had her hand on my chest, her boobs were mashing into my shoulder, and I could really feel her weight against me. I thought of what she’d said about having been bigger at one point and wondered just *how* big — she was so huge already. Then quickly as she’d started she stopped and sat up, fixing her bra again. “Sorry,” she said with a giggle. “Lucia might be back any minute.” That was true, and I was horrified by the idea we might have been caught. I really had to be more careful — if Lucia found out about Miss Wentworth and me she might tell my mother and it would be all over. I might even have to go back to school. She gave me the other tests and told me I’d need some kind of foreign language as well, or Latin, if I wanted to graduate with an advanced diploma. The good news was that I knew a fair amount of Latin already from studying Roman history and such so I told her I’d pursue that path. “Okay, so really not much for me to do,” she laughed. “I feel kinda guilty taking your mom’s money.” “Don’t,” I assured her. “She’s a multi-millionaire, lives in hotels and works all the time. What’s she gonna spend it on?” Miss Wentworth laughed, making her whole body jiggle, visible even through her tent-like dress. “So she never comes home?” she inquired. “Rarely. I saw her at Christmas, that was the last time.” “How’d that go?” “Okay. She was bothered by my weight but she’s always been that way,” I said with a shrug. “Now I’m way heavier though so I’m a little worried. That’s part of the reason I want to lose weight.” I heard Lucia come through the door and Miss Wentworth and I looked at each other guiltily, though we hadn’t been doing anything besides talking at that moment. Anyway it reminded me I had to call my mother and ask about hiring Rosales, Lucia’s daughter, to help her. “Okay, I’m gonna see about lunch,” my tutor groaned as she pushed herself up off the couch. Her dress had gotten caught in the big cleft of her bottom and she pulled it out and smiled when she caught me watching. “Should I have Lucia make you a salad, seeing as you’re on a diet?” At first I thought she was serious but then realized she was teasing me. I wanted to say yes, but then I realized the absurdity of it. If I ate a salad now I’d be ravenous in an hour and wind up eating through the entire pantry by evening anyway. “No, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I told her. Miss Wentworth smiled and nodded and then waddled to the kitchen. I rolled myself across the couch and grabbed the phone on the end table to call my mother. I was surprised to catch her in the middle of the day (she was still in Buenos Aires) though she warned me she had a meeting in five minutes. I quickly asked about Rosales and she said of course, and then asked how it was going with Miss Wentworth. I told her it was great, that we’d learned more that morning than I had in a week at XY Academy. “Then she’s money well-spent,” she said. “Glad to hear it.” I told her that was absolutely the case, and then she told me she had to go to her meeting and hung up. I heard Lucia calling me for lunch and realized I was now very, very hungry.
>>620 Great stuff dude. Can’t wait for Rosales to be introduced to these two
>>620 After the struggle of getting myself off the couch, I followed Miss Wentworth to the kitchen where Lucia was unpacking what she’d brought back to make lunch. Of course the full shopping would be delivered later on, as it was usually at least a dozen bags’ worth and now likely twice that many with my hungry tutor there. I told Lucia that my mom had given the okay to hire Rosales and she was very pleased. I was still somewhat nervous about seeing her daughter after all this time. I hadn’t thought about her in a while, guess I’d had a crush on her when I was younger and didn’t want her to see me such a fat, freakish mess. As I made my way to the table I was hyper-aware of the way my stomach and hips filled what were my largest pants, so tight now I could barely fit my hands into my pockets. I knew I looked ridiculous but what was I going to do? Even if I bought larger clothes they wouldn’t look right because of how pear-shaped my body had become. The only thing that would fit me properly now was a dress. I had to lose weight — HAD to. And so even after Miss Wentworth’s teasing I was tempted to ask Lucia to make a light lunch, maybe just one sandwich with no mayo or cheese and some chopped up vegetables, but she already had a large pot on the stove and announced she was making egg salad — my favorite. She had the biggest bowl in the kitchen full of chips and quart-sized containers of bean dip and guacamole on the table in the meantime. Miss Wentworth was snacking on it while reading a paperback, sipping lemonade between pages, occupying two seats again. My mouth was watering as I pulled out a chair and hitched up my pants. I felt even bigger than I had yesterday, no surprise after last night’s dinner and that morning’s breakfast. I had to pull the waistband up higher than ever so it wouldn’t cut into my love handles and belly when I sat down, which meant that my tits were practically hanging over my belt. I cringed as I sat down and felt myself balloon inside the double-ply fabric, stretching it to its limits. When I went to pull my chair closer to the table I sort of rolled side to side, the pants so tight that rather than it’s usual mushy consistency, they compressed my ass into a rather firm sphere, like an overinflated beachball. It was a new observation and I told myself it was a good reminder not to stuff myself like I’d been doing. But then I’d told myself that when stopped being able to shop for pants in regular stores five years ago, and two years later when I noticed the first set of stretch marks on my hips and belly, and a year after that when I almost passed out climbing the stairs back at my old house… Before I’d finished the thought I found myself reaching for a chip and dunking it into the bean dip. Then another in the guacamole, and so on. “You okay, Perry?” Miss Wentworth asked. “You seem kind of… uncomfortable.” She closed her book and grabbed a chip for herself, scooping up a golfball-sized wad of guac before swallowing it whole. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I told her, forcing a smile. “Maybe we both need to do a little clothes shopping,” she said, adjusting her bra for the hundredth time that day. “I feel like I’m busting out, too.” “Uh, sure,” I mumbled. Lucia brought me a giant tumbler of lemonade, super-sweet and sour at the same time. I drank up half the glass in one go. I looked back at the counter and two empty cartons of eggs next to the boiling pot and was cutting inch-thick slices of white bread. I had to slurp the drool from my lip so it wouldn’t go down my shirt and started eating chips double-time. “Hey, I have an idea,” Miss Wentworth said after a few minutes, pulling me out of my chip-fueled frenzy. “I was supposed to meet Miss Fuentes tonight for dinner at Osteria Dolce Vita but what if I invite her here instead? I’ll cook and give Lucia the night off.” Miss Fuentes was the one person missed from XY Academy, and so I told her that sounded like a great idea. Miss Wentworth said she’d call after lunch and set it up. Lucia was there in seconds to refill our lemonade glasses and promised she’d have our meal ready in a few minutes.
This is bbw chan right?
>>624 yes?
>Heavy guy starts dating female feeder without knowing her true intentions >She starts to sneakily fatten him up by buying excess snacks, loading his meals with extra butter and calories, always taking him out to eat, etc >As expected, he starts to swell up, packing on pound after pound with no sign of slowing down >Eventually he gets suspicious and questions her motives >She has no choice but to confess to fattening him up without his knowledge >Naturally, he freaks out and breaks up with her, horrified by the pounds that she packed onto him >However, he’s ready to put all of it behind him, lose the weight, and turn his relationship into a success story >Except he doesn’t >Those 50 pounds that he packed on turn into 75, then 100, then 125... >And considering that he wasn’t exactly skinny before, he’s getting absolutely massive >He desperately wants it to stop, but she expanded his appetite far beyond anything he could have imagined >He has no choice but to keep growing bigger and bigger, knowing all the while that she did this to him...
>>623 When is the next part ;-;
>>623 I told myself I’d only eat one sandwich, because how much weight could I possibly gain from that? But as always my appetite was way ahead of my diet plans. It didn’t help that Lucia knew exactly how I liked everything, and she made the egg salad in a way where I couldn’t resist, a little spicy and so much mayo it was almost like a dip, hard to keep between the bread. Miss Wentworth seemed to like it too, rolling her eyes with pleasure and complimenting Lucia as she took bite after bite, which encouraged me as well. The first sandwich seemed to disappear before I’d even tasted it, and Lucia was making me another, and then another. Lucia was ready with another sandwich without asking. Usually I only stopped eating when she ran out of whatever she’d made but today there was so much I just kept going. At some point the button of my pants popped off and the zipper slid down halfway, the relief instant and much-needed, and allowed me to stuff even more food down my throat. Miss Wentworth and I threw in the towel at the same time, the huge woman slumping down in her chair and throwing her head back, making her cheeks, chins, and breasts wobble. Her hands were both atop her belly, like she was holding it back from bursting. I was doing the same. “You finished?” Lucia asked, looking back and forth between us. “Yes, hon, thanks,” Miss Wentworth groaned. “Perry?” “Yeah, for sure,” I belched. “Okay, I put away for later,” Lucia announced, and as she wrapped up the leftovers I couldn’t believe I felt the urge to have yet one more sandwich. Though whatever plans for a “diet” I’d fantasized about were blown, I was weirdly proud of myself for not asking. “So remember I told you I used to be much bigger?” Miss Wentworth asked, once Lucia had gone downstairs to do the laundry. Neither of us had spoken for a long time, comatose from calorie overload. “I think so,” I said tentatively, though of course I remembered. She was so big now, I could hardly imagine. “660 pounds — can you imagine?” she mused, as if she couldn’t herself. “Wow.” “It was tough as a teacher,” she recalled. “They moved my classroom to the first floor, and when I hit 550 and was using a scooter I had to go in and out of the building through the delivery entrance, which had a ramp. Lucky me, I was popular and most of my students liked me, were even a little protective of me, but of course I got made fun of a lot too.” Of course I knew all about that, and nodded my head. “I took a health sabbatical when I couldn’t use the bathrooms anymore,” she confessed, and I cringed for her. Fat as I was, I really couldn’t imagine being that big. “I got weight loss surgery, they put a lap band in me. I lost 120 pounds my first year, and went back to work, and then another 200 in the three years after that.” “That must have felt good,” I suggested. In fact I prayed for that to happen to me. “Yeah, it was nice to be independent again, for sure. I didn’t want to be an invalid, I actually liked teaching, at least at that point. And anyway, that’s why I’m so flabby now, in case you were wondering. I sort of deflated.” She lifted one of her several belly rolls through her dress and let it fall back down, jiggling her whole body. “But you know what?” she asked, sporting a strange grin now, looking at me over her bulging bosom. “What?” “I kinda miss it.” I laughed, almost puking down my chest as I was still very much stuffed to the brim. “No joke,” she said. “I think that’s why I gained back 100 pounds. I mean, I don’t think — I know it.” I was sure she was putting me on, still smiling at her. “Yeah,” she continued. “I know I’m gonna be huge again — I mean, huger, if that’s a word — so I want to make a bunch of money as a tutor, and then travel around the world while I still can.” I nodded along, not sure what to say. I was going to ask why she wouldn’t just stop now, so she could keep working, and keep traveling, but then I thought about my own struggles with my weight and realized how silly a question it was.
>>679 It took so long for Miss Wentworth and I to digest enough to get up and back to the den, we were ready for a nap, so that’s what we did, her on the couch and myself on the loveseat. Lucia woke us at three o’clock with giant slices of lemon pie with whipped cream — each a quarter of the pie itself — that I forced down though I still felt like I was packed with cement. The sugar helped with the grogginess though, and I read some more of the classical mythology I’d gotten into, right now plowing through Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Miss Wentworth sat on the couch and did some writing in a small book I assumed was her diary. At four o’clock Lucia asked if we wanted more pie and the two of us answered “Yes!” at once, and the three of us cracked up laughing. However by five o’clock I was so woozy I’d only managed a few pages more. Between breakfast and lunch I’d eaten as much as I ever had in my worst binges, if over a longer period of time. “Remember Miss Fuentes is coming tonight,” Miss Wentworth reminded me, to my dismay. Not that I didn’t want to see her, but despite my earlier nap, all I felt like doing was climbing into bed. “I know,” she sighed, picking up on my dismay. “And if I know your old teacher she’s gonna bring a mess of Italian takeout.” Lucia signed off at six, and as she left I felt a rumble inside me. You’d think because of how much I ate I’d be going to the bathroom all the time but I actually only managed to move my bowels once every two days at best. It was usually a pretty awful experience as a result, getting rid of all that waste at once, and sometimes I spent an hour on the bowl. I told Miss Wentworth I’d be right back and headed to the bathroom with Ovid. I could tell right away it was going to have a rough time of it, now realizing that much egg salad was a bad idea. Why had Lucia let me eat all that? Or Miss Wentworth for that matter? Indeed I managed to get through almost 30 dense pages before I heard my tutor calling for me. “Sorry,” I yelled back, hearing her in my bedroom. “I’m just, ah, constipated.” “Yeah, all those eggs,” she said. “You gonna be okay.” “I think.” “Hang on,” she told me. It took a while, where eventually I went back to the book as what felt like Moby Dick worked its way through me at a painful pace. She knocked on the door, startling me. “Can I come in?” she asked. “Why?” “I have something that might help you.” Of course at first I wanted to say no, but then realized it didn’t really matter. After all, she’d seen everything there was to see of me the night before. I told her to come in, and saw she was carrying some strange device, what looked like a long pink balloon with a rubber hose attached to it. “Ever use one?” she asked as I put my book down. “I’m not sure what it is,” I admitted. She waddled to the sink and filled the balloon part. “It’s for when you’re really backed up. You put this up your butt,” she said, holding up the end of the hose, which had a rounded tip. “And the water goes in and cleans you right out.” I was speechless but she laughed at the look on my face. “It feels really weird and uncomfortable but trust me, you’ll feel way better after.” I’d been there probably 45 minutes and nothing was happening. Indeed I couldn’t imagine another hour or three feeling like I did and also entertaining Miss Fuentes. “Okay, here,” I said, reaching out for the hose. “Best if I do it,” Miss Wentworth said. “Sorry, I know it’s a little intimate, but trust me, it’s not easy the first time.” Still holding the pink vessel up, she twirled her finger, indicating I should turn around. And though she’d indeed been in my butt last night, washing me there, this was so weird and clinical. “Don’t worry, I’m a pro,” she insisted, and finally I got up, feeling my cheeks go warm as I bent over the sink. “There you go,” she said, and I jumped as I felt how cold it was. She’d put some sort of grease on it, thankfully, but had a hard time at first getting it in. It was the weirdest sensation of my life once she did, that went through my whole body. “Okay, this is actually the tough part,” she told me, as I clenched down on the wand and then let go, over and over, so strange to have this foreign thing inside me. “I’m gonna let the water in and it’s gonna feel really weird, and probably really uncomfortable, like you’re gonna burst.” I almost laughed, forcing out the thing in my ass, thinking that I fed myself til I thought I was gonna burst nearly every day. “Ready?” “Yeah,” I said, though I really wasn’t sure. She held the wand in place and then I heard a gurgle from the balloon and felt the warm water shoot up inside me. It was uncomfortable indeed, almost agonizing, and I yelped in that high-pitched way I hated. Yet I surprised myself as I realized I was getting hard, as it was also weirdly pleasurable, sort of how I felt after my worst binges, but lower in my body. “You okay?” she asked. “You have to stop,” I gasped, very much feeling like my colon was going to explode. “Sorry,” she said, and I heard another gurgle from the balloon and the pain settled into a dull ache. “I’ll take it out, but get ready.” “Oh my god!” I gasped as she pulled out the tube, as something moved down there in a dramatic way, far beyond my control. I raced back to the toilet, all the fat on my body flopping and wobbling as I crashed down onto the seat. Miss Wentworth went back to the sink to dump out the water while I felt as if all my bodily organs and muscles were pouring out of me. It just wouldn’t stop, not just breakfast and lunch but perhaps everything I’d eaten for a month was going out my distended asshole. “Agh!” I cried, having never in my life felt anything like it. “You’ll thank me,” she said, though I could barely hear her over the nonstop ker-plops in the toilet. When it subsided I slumped forward, feeling both literally and figuratively drained. Miss Wentworth shuffled towards me and I now realized by the way her giant boobs hung, and especially how they moved, that she was braless beneath her dress. She leaned into me, pressing her fat into my side, and flushed the toilet. I was afraid it would clog but thankfully it went down. My butthole felt sore but otherwise I was indeed relieved. “Wipe yourself, it’s my turn,” she told me, heading back to the sink and starting to clean the end of the hose. I did the deed best I could, which was not very good at the size I was. My ass was so big I couldn’t reach behind me, and getting beneath my stomach and FUPA was tough as well. I hated having Miss Wentworth there with me but she occupied herself re-applying Vaseline to the tip of the hose while I sighed and grunted through it. “I can put it in but you need to hold the bag,” she said, lifting her dress as I stood up off the bowl. I felt forty pounds lighter and perhaps I was. Though I’d seen it all — and more — the night before, her naked body was still shocking. It was the rumples of her cellulite, the veins and oddly placed folds, and also how low everything hung, as without a bra even the top of her boobs was halfway down her chest, and the widest part of her was almost near her knees. I tried to think of her with another 200 pounds and my imagination failed me. Then I thought of myself with another 200 pounds and felt my heart skip a beat. She set herself down on the bowl with a grunt and handed me the balloon that I almost fumbled, as it was surprisingly heavy and brimming with water. Seated, she’d settled into a round pyramid of blubber, like a water-filled balloon herself. I unconsciously touched the outside of my fat, spongy hip and pictured it inches, or feet, wider and shuddered. “Give it to me,” she spread her thighs as far as they would go — which was surprisingly wide — and bent forward with another grunt and reached her hand with the end of the hose between her legs, her face buried in her own chest, her body shifting and wobbling. For several seconds she struggled and then lifted her head, gasping. “Okay,” she said, exhausted and breathless, her fat face bright red. “Undo that clasp there below the bag but keep your hand on it.” I did so, and the water gurgled and she inhaled sharply, her eyes wide. “Ungh,” she moaned, putting both hands on the bottom of her belly. I swore I could see it fill up as the bag gurgled again, now barely three-quarters full. “A little more,” she choked, breathing quickly now. The water in the bag went down to half and she leaned back, taking big gulps of air, the toilet now creaking on its bolts. I worried she’d break it. “Okay — stop it!” she cried, and I fumbled as I reclasped it, making her scream. She thrust her hand down to grab the hose but her belly was too round and full now and she couldn’t reach it, whimpering. I finally managed to clasp the hose but realized she was still in trouble, so I bent down and yanked the hose and she shrieked. Then she closed her eyes and groaned as water and a whole lot of other stuff rushed out of her into the toilet, the sound massive yet muffled by her big, soft body atop it. As with me, it went on for a long time, and I watched her deflate by inches. “Jesus, Perry!” she yelled, once it had subsided. “Did you enjoy the show?” “Sorry,” I mumbled, realizing I shouldn’t have watched her like that. “Never mind,” she sighed, reaching for the toilet paper. “I guess you did okay for your first enema, giving and receiving.”
>>682 We bathed — separately, as Miss Wentworth insisted. I worried she was mad I’d fumbled the enema bag, and at the same time I was a little offended as well that she kicked me out of my own bathroom so she could clean up first. It was all forgotten though once she waddled off back to her suite and I went through a thorough scrubbing and emerged feeling energized and lighter, if not “light.” Trying to get dressed for dinner brought me back down to earth however, as I realized how few items in my wardrobe actually fit. My “nice” clothes especially, but I did manage to squeeze into black pants that I couldn’t button or zip up. The good thing was that I had a long, loose white shirt that I’d only worn once, to an aunt’s funeral. It was a 3X and way too big in the shoulders, the sleeves almost to my fingertips, but it actually covered my ass and belly and so if I closed my pants with my belt no one could see they didn’t fit. Feeling so empty, I went to the living room with quite an appetite actually, and had to really struggle not to raid the fridge. Thankfully I was distracted by Miss Fuentes’ imminent arrival, as if I was going on a date. At least that’s what I imagined it would be like. Miss Wentworth joined me shortly after, and frankly looked amazing. I found her weirdly sexy but I’d never have considered her beautiful or even pretty. But she’d put on makeup, and her hair was shiny with curls at her ears and down her forehead, and round and flabby as her face was, she looked like an old-fashioned movie star. Her dress was spectacular, dark purple, long and very loose on her body yet draping over her massive curves in a very sexy way, long sleeves and the top half embroidered with colorful flowers. A thick necklace of bright blue stones lay across her chest, and as she was wearing a bra again so her bosom was thrust out regally before her, her long, deep cleavage moist with some kind of lotion and splashing around with her every movement — mesmerizing. “What do you think?” she asked, lifting the hem of her dress above her fat-bound knees and letting it fall again. As she moved towards me I smelled her perfume, which was strong and flowery. “You look… great,” I stammered, and she smiled at my awkwardness. “Thank you, Perry. Bet you didn’t know I cleaned up so nice, huh?” The doorbell rang, Ms. Fuentes of course, and I buzzed her in. I’d forgotten how small and thin she was, especially compared to Miss Wentworth, or myself for that matter. Like my tutor, she too looked spectacular, though in a somewhat different way, wearing a tight-fitting dark gray suit with a big silver pin on the lapel and no other jewelry. She wore very high black heels and had her long, dark hair pinned up atop her head. She was carrying a huge black bag, stylish but weird, like she was planning to stay the night. Perhaps she was? I reached out my hand to her but she leaned in and gave me a kiss, putting her hands on my breasts and pushing her firm belly into my buttery one as she did so, in a very familiar way that I liked. “What a beautiful apartment you have!” she marveled as I showed her inside. “This is all yours?” “Pretty much,” I told her, and realized again how weird it was to be 15 and living alone. Then again, I couldn’t imagine any other way at that point. She then ran over to Miss Wentworth and they embraced, Miss Fuentes almost getting lost inside my tutor’s bulk and the folds of her dress. They complimented each other and then turned and looked at me, talking for a minute or two about how smart and wonderful I was, as if I wasn’t even there. “So smart!” Miss Wentworth exclaimed. “Right? Like I told you,” Miss Fuentes agreed. “And such a nice boy as well.” “SO nice…” “Look — he’s embarrassed…” I was indeed, and wished they’d change the subject. Unfortunately they did. “I hope you’re not letting him eat too much,” Miss Fuentes told her friend. “He’s already fatter than when he left school.” “You know me, of course not,” Miss Wentworth replied with a smirk. “I *do* know you — that’s the problem!” Miss Fuentes shot back, and they both cracked up laughing, Miss Wentworth’s massive, propped-up bosoms shaking so hard side to side she had to hold it with both hands. “Of course I’m way thinner,” Miss Wentworth said, putting her hands on her hips and pivoting back and forth like a model. For a second I thought she was being serious but then she smiled and Miss Fuentes shook her head and sighed. “Bullshit — you’re big as a house!” my old teacher exclaimed. “Look at those hips!” At the word “hips” I stepped back, knowing my own were so round and wide in my too-tight pants. “You two are some pair,” Miss Fuentes sighed. “A pair of pears! Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, getting you together…” “So where’s the food?” Miss Wentworth interrupted. Miss Fuentes had dropped her big bag by the door but indeed had nothing else with her. “Coming — relax, piggy,” she said. “I had it delivered, there’s no way I could carry all of it all the way over here.” I’d never heard adults talk like this and it both excited and frightened me. I was so attracted to them both where I didn’t want their insults and criticisms, no matter how good-natured, to turn in my direction again. “Did you know your tutor used to be even fatter?” Miss Fuentes asked me. “I told him,” Miss Wentworth confirmed. “I’m not sure he believes me.” “Oh my god, you were like an elephant…” “Ok, you can stop,” Miss Wentworth sighed, but she was smiling as well, and blushing in a way that didn’t really seem like embarrassment. Of course I didn’t keep wine in the house but Miss Wentworth had some she’d brought over from her suite and poured us each a glass. We all toasted in the kitchen and I felt delightfully grown up and sophisticated. I tried to imagine what the jerks back at XY Academy would think about me entertaining two grown-up women in my own apartment. For the first time in a very long time, maybe forever, I didn’t feel like a fat freak, just a regular guy — better than that. And when the doorbell rang and the food was delivered, it was even better.
>>684 The food was delicious, and there was so much of it! Some things I was familiar with, others I wasn’t. Lots of pasta (which I loved) but also dishes with sausages and chicken and all kinds of cheeses and cold cuts. I was a little drunk from the wine which made my appetite even stronger than usual. I found myself gorging and then would look up and see one or both of them grinning at me and I’d get self-conscious and slow down again. Miss Fuentes and Miss Wentworth started talking about the meals they’d had, together and separately and I learned a bit about them and their relationship at the same time. “That barbecue place in North Carolina — you remember that?” Miss Fuentes asked. “Of course I do! That was where I broke the chair…” “One of many…” “Don’t remind me!” “The owner brought you two chairs instead.” “I think he was a feeder.” “DEFINITELY a feeder!” I’d heard them use that word more than once and finally I had to ask what it meant. Miss Fuentes went to speak but then stopped, suddenly a little embarrassed, but Miss Wentworth smiled and put down her fork for the first time since we’d sat down. “A feeder is someone who, well, likes to feed people for pleasure, and watch them gain weight.” “Not necessarily the second part,” Miss Fuentes interrupted. “Most of the time,” Miss Wentworth insisted. “She just feels guilty. Anyway a ‘feedee’ is the recipient. They like to be fed, and to gain.” Of course they were talking about themselves, and with the “guilty” remark I realized Miss Fuentes likely had a part in Miss Wentworth’s huge gain, that they’d been talking about earlier. Indeed they looked at each other briefly, smiled, and Miss Fuentes poured us all more wine. I wanted to hear more about it but the conversation went back to food, which was fine by me. I was a little drunk from the wine, and the ladies as well, as they were laughing more often, and harder, and the talk sometimes got a little naughty. “Who was that guy at the pool, when we had that house on the Cape that summer?” “The dentist? Or accountant, something like that…” “Right, something boring.” “Well I remember you didn’t mind that night he bored into you…” “Stop!” I’d tried alcohol before but I never liked it much. Once in a while I went into my mom’s liquor cabinet and experimented but it tasted awful, and made me feel muddle-headed, then sick. This time was totally different however. It made everything taste better, for one thing. I felt like my appetite was endless, so excited to be there with them, eating, that I never knew which dish to choose next. I cleared 4, 5, 6 plates and while I wasn’t “hungry” I still felt like I could eat more. Like my binges but so much better, with none of the shame and desperation. I guess I was really lost in my own world for a while, because I realized the women had stopped talking. “Look at him go,” Miss Wentworth said finally, and Miss Fuentes laughed. “Gee and where does he put it?” I stopped eating and looked at Miss Fuentes. Why would she say something like that? She was laughing now, holding her lips closed so she wouldn’t spit out her wine. I noticed she wasn’t eating a tenth what I was, or Miss Wentworth. “Oh don’t be sore about it,” she said, after she swallowed. “I’m just playing.” “He might not be into that,” Miss Wentworth warned. I looked at her. “Humiliation,” Miss Fuentes explained. “Your tutor likes it when I insult and verbally abuse her.” “In the right context,” Miss Wentworth quickly added. “Of course.” “Well I don’t like it,” I said, surprised to hear myself. “Everyone made fun of me at the Academy. It’s why I left.” “Sorry then,” Miss Fuentes shrugged. “I’ll stop. I thought you’d like it.” “Anyway,” Miss Wentworth sighed. “I think I’m actually getting full.” I suppose I was too, though that almost never stopped me of course. She put down her fork and wiped her lips with a napkin. “Did you bring…?” she asked. “Of course,” Miss Fuentes answered, smiling. “Hang on…” She got up from the table and left. “Sorry, she’s a little drunk,” Miss Wentworth told me. I’d started picking at the meatballs again, that they called “polpette.” “It’s okay.” “It’s all in good fun. She thinks you’re really handsome, and sexy. As do I.” “Well, ah, thanks,” I said, and felt myself blush from my forehead to my toes. I didn’t feel like either of those things but it was nice to hear. Miss Fuentes returned with a large cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. I quickly realized it wasn’t a regular cigarette. “Have you ever tried it?” she asked me. “No,” I admitted. “Oh, well you’ll *love* it…”
>>687 Fuck this is like the best story going on right now
>>689 Thanks man. Definitely to be continued.
>>689 I know, right? It's been pushing so many of my buttons. This story is a god send.
>>694 Glad you're digging it. This is fun to write. Hopefully I'll be able to get some more of it up by end of the week.
Anybody know of some good male fatpad/fupa stories. Cuckolding and feminization a big plus as well. Current story happening here is amazing as well.
>>697 When is this story going to be updated. It's so good. I need my fix.

Delete
Report

no cookies?