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porkyy-pig · 4 months ago

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Pavlov’s Pig – Extended Cut

Updated 06-01-25

I can’t seem to leave this story alone. I've added over a thousand words and given it a decent edit.

Enjoy!

*****

A thick creamy substance flows down the tube and into your mouth.

You swallow. It’s delicious and sweet. More cream fills your mouth. You gulp it down - It settles into your tummy. A vibration pulses around your cock.

'Good boy,’ your feeder coos. He grabs your leaking cock and gives it a squeeze. You shudder.

Feeder was tall and fit - with a domineering edge. A couple years your senior. You met him online. You went to the same college. He invited you over. He said he was a software engineering student? You couldn't remember. It didn't matter. He promised to make you fat – and that’s what you cared about. You were a shy slim twink, 5ft 8in and just 130 pounds soaking wet.

Ripe for the taking.

Another gulp of cream travels down your throat. Your cock buzzes and throbs.

You were nervous about the meeting; you'd never been fed before. You’d always wanted to gain, but the societal pressure around you was too much. Now, a freshman at university, you were free from parental control. Free from those small-town attitudes. Free to experiment with your kink. Free to give into your deepest desires.

'Mmffth!' you moan around the tube in your mouth. Every time you swallowed, a ring around your cock vibrated. Your devious feeder had connected the ring and the tube electronically.

A finger traced your cock from base to tip. A thumb rubbed a pearl of precum over the head of your leaking cock.

Another swallow. The cock ring tightens. He smirks as he watches you writhe. He keeps you on edge.

You're so close. Precum flows down the side of your throbbing cock. He uses it like lube. You're getting full. The sweet cream takes up every inch of space inside you. But you can’t stop – not yet. You need to cum.

You swallow again and again. Pleasure rides up your cock. You need more. You open your throat to the tube.

More. Faster. More pleasure. More!

You guzzle and gulp, ignoring the pain and pressure building in your bloated cream filled tummy.

You yelp in surprise. Feeder lifts up your legs. He plants his face between your smooth cheeks. A tongue runs along your taint.

'Hrnnrghnnnnnnfthfthfth!' you lose control. Your Adam's apple bobs. The vibrations around your cock are constant now. The ring around your cock rolls up to that sensitive spot just just below the head of your cock. It stays there.

You're going to - oh fuck. You're cumming!

Your wicked feeder laughs as he watches rope after rope of cum splatter across your distended cream-filled belly. Your feeder slides tongue across your tummy. He kisses you, snowballs you with your own cum. Feeding you one last serve of cream.

'Same time next week?' he asks.

You nod your head enthusiastically. You're panting too hard to speak.

*****

You step on the scale. 150 pounds. The heaviest you've ever been. Twenty pounds in a month. All thanks to your twice-weekly feedings sessions.

Feeder slaps your ass. The fresh pudge jiggles.

'It's a good start,' he taunts with a devilish glint in his eye.

'But we're just beginning,' he holds your gaze, looking down at you, his eyes smouldering with lust. Your cock throbs.

'Get in', he gestures to the machine.

You don't need to be told twice.

He hinted that he had upgraded the machine but hadn't told you what to expect. A blindfolds covers your eyes. Straps bind your wrist and ankles to the bed. You're at his mercy.

He puts the tube in your mouth. You suck, greedily, savouring the delicious cream. He won't tell you what he puts in it. But that doesn’t matter. It’s making you fatter and that's what you want. You’ve been catching yourself daydreaming in class, cock twitching at the mere thought of the cream.

A wet sensation hits your ass. His tongue? A finger? No. It's smooth, metallic, and hard. It pushes inside you. You gasp.

The tube slips from your mouth. Precious cream spills onto your chest. Briefly, you're unsure and hesitant. Is this what you want?

'It's okay cutie; you’re safe, I promise this will make you feel really good – just give it a go, we can stop if you don’t like it,' your feeder reassures you.

He pats your softening tummy, pinching a little fat roll that's begun to form around your belly button. That's all the reassurance you need. You nod, and he places the tube back in your mouth. Sweet delicious cream fills your mouth. You moan.

The ring around your cock vibrates. Then - the metallic rod inside your ass conducts a slight electrical current. Right onto that special spot inside you. You jump. You barely keep your mouth on the tube as you let out another horny moan. Your eyes flutter.

You're so distracted by the pleasure you briefly stop sucking again. But the moment you stop sucking, so do the vibrations on your cock and the electric tingling in your ass. You need more. You can't let it stop. It feels so good. You open your throat to the cream and start chugging. You need more. You must have more.

You hear your feeder laugh as you start writhing around. You manoeuvre yourself to get the metallic rod deeper inside you. Hips bucking to fuck yourself on it. You chug the cream.

Desperate. Horny. More. MORE.

Thick jets of cum explode from your cock drenching your face and chest. Your cream mixes with cream spilled from the tube. Your vision blackens. You thrash your head from side to side.

Breathing heavily through your nose, you keep your mouth around the tube. You’re almost sad the session is already over. You still have room for more. A tiny trickle of cream flows into your mouth. The gentlest of vibrations wracks your body in its post orgasmic state.

You can't see him, but your feeder watches the show. Curious to see what you’ll do next.

You whimper as you tentatively suck a tiny bit more cream into your already cream-filled belly. Your cock twitches in response, ready to go again. You’ve always been a horny boy, with terrible willpower. Staying up late at night to goon to fat boys and thoughts of getting fatter.

You need it. More cream. More pleasure.

Within moments you’re sucking on that tube as if your life depends on it. Your belly bulges.

‘Good boy, that’ll put a nice fat ass on you,’ your feeder teases. He holds out his phone, recording you as you moan and writhe.

A second mind-breaking orgasm wracks your body. You’re reduced to a messy puddle of sweat and cum. You pass out into post coital bliss.

Your feeder examines a display showing the amount of cream you just drunk. He smirks to himself - You broke your previous record by over 50%.

He has you right where he wants you.

*****

You strain your weak arms as you fight your pants. You only bought these size 34 jeans a month ago. You couldn’t have gone up another size already? Could you?

None of your twink clothes fit. You catch a view of yourself in the mirror. Your belly presses against your tight shirt. A juicy roll of fat threatens to spill out of the bottom if you raise your arms. Your ass spills over the top of your unbuttoned jeans like a shelf. Your grab it. Its so soft. You slap it. It jiggles. Your thighs strain the denim. Love handles spill over the waistband. You’ve turned into a voluptuous pear-shaped boy. A fat pudgy ex-twink. Just like you always wanted. Your cock gets hard.

You snap a photo for your feeder, captioning it - Running late – can’t find anything that fits.

With a struggle you get the jeans over your ass. You try to button them. But your fat ass and thighs won’t co-operate. Breathless, you give up. You can’t win this battle. You realize it doesn't matter anyway. Its dark out and you’re just going across campus to see your feeder. Nobody is going to see. You slip on a hoodie and leave your dorm.

It’s been three months since you met feeder. You're 195 pounds. Up 65 pounds. All of it pure fat. You shudder as you feel your hoodie cup your lovehandles as you walk. You’re spending a whole long weekend with your feeder. He promised to have you over 200 pounds by the end of it. He's feeding you several times a week now. It’s on your brain constantly. It’s so distracting. Your constantly hungry. Constantly horny. You’re falling behind on your studies. Your losing sleep gooning to your own fat.

A rational part of your mind screams in desperation as bangs on the walls of your lust-fueled, hedonistic gainer-brain.

What am I doing to myself?

Maybe I should my feeder we should slow down?

You cross campus, jeans unbuttoned. Your thick thighs chafe. You were never a fit boy but you’re shocked at how much harder the three flights of stairs up to feeder’s dorm are.

Panting and red faced you knock on his door. You decide you’ll tell him to slow down. This is getting out of hand.

He opens the door shirtless. His hot body on display. You forget about telling him to slow down. You’re putty in his hands. An obedient dough boy to fondle and fatten. You beg him for more.

201 flashes at you from the scale by the end of a hedonistic long weekend.

'I have another toy I'd like to try with you', your feeder smirks. You know that smirk. It means your going to get fatter. The rational part of your mind pleads with you, begging you to refuse. Your cock throbs, and the plea falls on deaf ears. You consent, horny for more.

The new toy is a sensor and an electrode. The sensor attaches to the roof of your mouth— the electrode is placed right over your prostate. You yelp as there’s a bit of pain as the electronics are embedded within you. They can’t be removed without feeders help.

'The sensor detects the sugar and fat content anything you're eating; the electrode will go off correspondingly, pleasuring you,' he explains.

You say goodbye and head home. Your jeans rip as you walk up the stairs to your room. A jock from your class sees you. He laughs at you. He tells you your ass is out of control. His hand slaps your ass. You blush and rush to your room.

You slam the door behind you.

Panting, sweaty, embarrassed and so horny. You look down to see a went tent soaked with pre.

You grab your roommate’s milk from the fridge. He won’t even notice if you just have a glass. The milk flows over the sensor in your mouth. The electrode in in your prostate tingles. You gasp in pleasure.

More.

Eschewing the glass, you chug directly from the half gallon bottle.

Animalistic with need. Your belly peeks out the bottom of your shirt. Your rip your destroyed jeans off. You fish out your cock and start pumping it whilst standing in front of the fridge. Thankful your room mate isn't home.

Pump and chug, pump and chug, pump and chug.

Your protate is on overdrive. Your brain floods with dopamine. But before you can cum - you run out of milk, and the pleasure stops. You whine with needy frustration. Blue balled. Even though your feeder drained three loads from you today already – You need it again...

You open a delivery app; you don’t even think twice about ordering a two for one pizzas deal. You desperately forage for anything sweet and fattening whilst you wait. You can't stop yourself. You’ll pay your roommates back later.

You’re a flustered mess by the time you answer the door for the pizzas. You answer the door wearing nothing but presoaked underwear that is two sizes too small.

The pizza boy is familiar. It’s the jock who saw you rip your pants. He raises an eyebrow at you your visible erection. He pushes into your apartment. He sees the carnage of your gluttony. His shirt comes off. His abs press against your soft, full gut.

You moan with need as he grabs your fat ass.

He fucks you right in the living room floor. Your ass wobbles with every thrust.

He’s enjoying himself, the vibration on your prostate also stimulating his cock. He quickly figures out it only works if you’re eating. You feel your belly hang lower and lower as he makes you eat every bite.

You feel his cock tense as a creamy load fills you.

You look up at him in a daze. You push your ass back into his crotch.

‘M-more?' you whimper.

*****

Your roommates kicked you out. You couldn’t blame them after you were caught getting fucked in the common area by the pizza delivery jock. Especially after being caught the third time.

Your feeder’s fit body slaps against your wide blubbery one. Waves of pleasure rock your body in time with the ripples cascading through your blubber as your feeder thrusts into your ballooning rump.

He roughly grabs your hips and shakes your 320-pound body.

Leaning over, he bites your ear, 'Not long until your belly touches the floor when I fuck you!'.

You moan, 'P-Please make it happen faster!'

He laughs at you, 'Such an impatient piggy, you've already grown so much so fast, but you just can't control yourself, can you?'

He isn't wrong. Ten months of gluttony and hedonism have transformed you. You've almost gained 200 pounds – and the gains were accelerating. A pound of fat a day was your standard.

Some part in the back of your mind squeaks in protest. This is getting out of hand; you need to stop. You’re more than twice the twink boy you used to be!

Your feeders cock forces that silly thought out of your head as he rams against your prostate. You feel your entire body jiggle as each thrust ripples up your ass, love handles and belly.

You're in heaven. How could you stop?

He puts the tube in your mouth - You suck greedily without needing to be told. Your ass and cock vibrate. You suck harder.

Faster. More.

'So fucking fat,' your feeder cries out with lust, 'Can't believe you were a twink at the start of the year!'

You feel his seed fill your ass. But you don't stop chugging the cream. He might be done, but you're not yet. Who cares if you've already cum five times today. It's the weekend; you don't have anything better to do. Or is it? You can't remember. The days were starting to blur.

When not with your feeder you spent your days at the dining hall. Your classmates watch in horror as you go up for seconds, thirds, fourths and fifths. A couple of the down-low feeder jocks who can’t get enough of your ass often sneak your lardass back to their rooms after the spectacle. You’re a fat little ex-twink slut. The attention is intoxicating.

Your gut grazes against the bedsheets as you cum into your soft underbelly for the sixth time that day. Your feeder gets up to check the vat of fattening slop you've been gorging on.

'Oh shit,' he says, a note of seriousness in his voice. You ask him what's wrong. He looks at you nervously.

'Uh, I may have accidentally put the wrong brownies in the cream mix. They were uh-weed brownies for the party later.'

You're not convinced it's an accident. You're a little annoyed. An hour later, you're at the party – stoned out of your mind. You forget being annoyed.

'Feed me, I'm hungrryyy,' you moan. The munchies have hit you like a truck.

He takes you to an upstairs room at the party. You pant. Your short fattened body struggling to carry all the nearly two hundred pound of fat you stacked on. You're so unfit.

Your feeder opens a door. A group of naked horny guys are waiting. As are two cheesecakes. Your cock is hard and leaking in an instant.

‘You want?’ Feeder asks.

You respond by getting on your knees and grabbing a fistful of cake.

Your gut touches the floor by the end of the night.

'Happy birthday piggy,' feeder coos. It barely registers, you’re engrossed in licking cake and cum from your fingers. Your hole twitching and leaking cum as the electrode continues to vibrate inside you with every lick.

*****

A young man lays on his back, propped up on a wall and a steel reinforced bed. His cascading flesh is lined with angry stretchmarks. His face angelic and round. His eyes dull, his pupils dilated.

A metallic rod whirrs as it thrusts into the huge boys ass. Electrodes connected to his nipples. A pleasant tingly charge courising through them. An immense belly has buried his cock. But you still hear the vibrating cock ring milking him beneath all that fat. You doubt the young man could touch himself if he wanted.

A tube sits in the boy’s mouth connected to a gallon-vat of a thicky creamy substance. The cream is laced with appetite stimulants, libido enhancers and weed.

'More,' the young man demands. It's an obscene demand - To any outsider, at least.

You look at your beautiful boy. He’s more fat than boy. His thighs ripple with cellulite. His arms are bigger than his waist used to be. He’s always had a big fat ass – and even laying down you can see it getting close to spilling over the side of the bed. His tits are the size of your head and rest atop his glorious belly which cascades in flowing rolls of fat. His body is a temple of hedonism.

And you worship at that temple every single day.

Your boy can’t leave the bed unassisted, and soon you know he won’t be able to at all. His small weak twink body buried under hundreds of pounds of lard and weakened further by inactivity. He doesn’t wear clothes anymore. Nothing fits anyway – and he hasn’t left the house in months. He’s entirely dependent on you – all the does is lay in bed and demand to be made fatter. Sucking down delicious cream night and day.

'MORE!' he roars! You jump in surprise. The demand breaking your daydreaming. Your impatient needy boy needs more. You check the vat. He’s already finished an entire gallon of cream this morning. Is his appetite still increasing?

'Hold on, babe, I'll whip up another,' you assure him.

'Hurry!' he whimpers, as if he might starve.

You set to work whipping up another batch of the 10000 calorie concoction, reflecting on how life has changed since you met your feedee two years ago.

After he got kicked out of college you took him in and set up an adult streaming service to pay for his massive food bill. Thousands of people live stream daily as they watch your boy grow. Extra money is made on the side when you whore him out. He doesn’t care. In fact he likes to meet new people and is happy to be groped, fucked and fondled if it enables his lifestyle. It’s so successful, neither of you have to actually work.

You lured him in. Pampered him and gave him a never-ending cycle of pleasure. You enabled him, protected him from all the consequences of his weight gain. You turned his horny twink libido against him. You used sexual pleasure, food and drugs to flood his mind with so much dopamine that he lost control of himself. You ratcheted up his hunger and libido to the point where everything else in his life became secondary. You became the only way he could satiate his needs.

In two years transformed a shy little twink who was just dipping his toe into the gaining community into a greedy, bratty insatiable blob. A gainer icon. Now the only thing that matters to him is more. His kink had consumed his life.

You manipulated his body and mind. Turning him into a walking pleasure factory. You crushed every ounce of resistance he had – and it was so so easy.

You look at a screen which displays the livestream. It shows feedee's current weight - 599 pounds. Hundreds of horny comments are egging him on - praising him. Warping his perception even further. You heft the gallon of creamy slop back to the feeding room.

You enter the room and watch as your pet leans his head forward and sucks on the tube. There's only scraps of liquid. Like sucking the last vestiges of a milkshake through a straw.

You know you should stop him. But he looks so happy. Besides, you love him and hes such a good boy. He deserves to get everything he wants. A life of hedonistic pleasure with no responsibilities. You and your machines taking care of his every need. What more could a boy want?

He whimpers and writhes on the bed. Shoving the metallic dildo deeper against his prostate. He looks at you, pleading as he suckles the tube. You can tell what he’s thinking.

Hungry. More. Feeder, please more. Need more.

'It's okay, cutie. I've got the next batch here for you.’

You refill the vat. He sucks on the tube. The cream reaches his tongue. He wriggles his enormous body as pleasure flows throw him.

The electronic display dings – The chat goes wild. Thousands of dollars flood in within seconds. The screen in front of the bed sparkles with bright colours. In giant writing ‘600 pounds’ appears.

'Such a good boy.'

You use one of the machines to help you roll your boy over. Another supports his weight as he's moved into a doggy position.

Your grab his smooth blubbery ass. His skin beautiful and clean. Moisturised and rubbed every day by you and the machines you've developed.

‘Look how happy you made all those people,' you coo as you mount him.

He moans in pleasure but never stops sucking on the tube. You lose yourself in the ex-twinks 600 pound body. Thrusting his enormous shelf of an ass.

The thought of being 600 pounds and the cascade of rippling fat triggers an orgasm in your boy. His fatpad oozes with cum. You watch as his beady eyes fixate on the LED display.

Next goal 650 pounds - Five times original weight.

He pushes his ass against you the best he can. He's telling you he wants it to be fatter – and wants it as fast as possible.

Suck. Swallow. Pleasure. Cum. Suck. Swallow. Pleasure. Cum. This is the pattern you taught him, repeated over and over, and over. It's his mantra. It's his purpose. It’s his addiction. All thoughts of a successful career and a normal life have fled his empty head.

You groan as you pump a load into his twitching hole. He whines as you withdraw. You quickly replace your cock with the metallic rod. He stays in that position. Eyes glued to the screen as more horny comments come in. The dial ticks to 601. You leave your boy to it.

Five orgasms and a nap later – Your feedee has finished another bucket of fattening slop. He wheezes out his siren call.

'More…'

You shake your head in amusement. He's extra greedy today. If he keeps up this pace he might be 650 within a month. Your cock goes rock solid at the thought.

A smirk crosses your face. Your already thinking of new ways keep him gaining at this breakneck speed.

Besides, if your pet ex-twink wants more.

Who are you to refuse him?

After all - you trained him like Pavlov's dog.

...Or rather, Pavlov's Pig.

____

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porkyy-pig · 4 months ago

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story - afterglow

(It’s good to revel in the feeling. CW: superchub sizes, fat sex, implied health issues)

Your heart is beating in your throat.

Just after it happens, it always feels like your senses dull and blur, like a slow reboot, starting with your core, your overworked heart THUMP THUMP THUMPING from the exertion, your extremities tingling from lack of blood flow, focusing on the panting, desperate HUFF of your breathing, and only tentatively expanding outward.

Your warm breath, then the sticky sweat between your rolls and your chin, the heat of your partner next to you, the low whir of the fan in the corner of the room, the damp cool of the sheets underneath you, and then, finally, the extremities of your mass filling in with flushed, clammy overwork.

“That’s a good pig.” Your partner tap-taps on the mass of your thigh, a pleasant jiggle running along your leg.

It’s still heavy, plodding, but your breathing is no longer manual, and your brain is still showing you those last moments in hot, white buzzes that fill your conscious.

The sickly sweet taste of sweetened cream.

The mechanical chug of cold, viscous liquid travelling down your throat. Gulp, swallow, gulp, swallow in a learned rhythm.

The overwhelming urge of consumption and desire that leaves you blank, clear, the fulfillment of sheer WANT that you can’t help but keep chasing.

The pathetic, feeble hip-bucking as you could feel yourself inching closer, wobbling into your thigh rolls and draining your strength which each lumbering thrust.

The voice of your partner growling ‘not yet.’

Your involuntary whine in response.

The gurgle of the bottle as you reach the end, your rhythmic chugging meeting the end of the caloric concoction making your throat let out a stifled ‘glk’ that gives way to a satisfied SNORT.

The slow churn of your partner’s pumping hand turning into a rapid pulse, your senses narrowing until the anticipation of everything coalesces…

And collapses in a single, reverberating moment, rippling like a hand placed on your massive belly.

You’re basking in it as long as you can. That deep seated fulfillment is finally reaching your fingers and toes, the warmth of your body mass being replaced with that warmth of deep, utter satisfaction.

“You good?” Your partner is fetching a towel and looks back at you.

Your breathing is finally slowing down as you realize you must have a stupid grin on your face again, your leg passively rotating in place, pudgy toes gliding across soft fabric, up and down.

“Ye…yeah.” Your fingertips have feeling again as you rub your index and thumb together, pressing your tongue to your teeth and letting out a contented sigh.

Feeling has returned to your body, and it mixes with your endorphin high, and you revel in every micro-adjustment causing a cascade that ripples somewhere in your expanse. Rolls crashing into rolls, even gently, feel like a chaotic dance, intricate and effortless, playing out with every motion.

You can’t help it. You lift a tentative hand up, and then DROP onto your belly with a PLOP, causing the rippling to undulate more violently, the mass of your tits wobbling heavily, up and down. You can feel, even now, your fat pad quivering from the motion, vibrating with overstimulation you can’t even stop now.

You like how out of control your own sensations are to you.

“Having fun?” Your partner coos, somewhat condescendingly.

Your brain is still slow with being back in reality, and you can only muster a dumb, innocent nod, causing your cheeks to jiggle and your neckfat to bunch up with your chest-fat.

Your partner sits next to you and digs into your fat pad again, this time for more practical reasons. “Not so hard to clean up anymore, it barely sputters out.”

Somewhere deep down, your cock manages a twitch at that.

Your partner doesn’t notice.

You’re wobbling idly now, your hand placed gently onto the expanse of belly, gently moving up and down, stirring a comforting wobbling sensation. You can still taste the butterfat on your lips, your throat coated with pure calories, and the thought of that almost works you up again.

“So…what do you want for dinner?”

You’re using both hands now, your gentle wobbling escalating into a sloshing rocking, bouncing your belly up and down as if it’s doing the thinking.

“Hm….I want…a lot.”

“You are such a fucking pig, you know that?”

Before your neurons even finish firing, you let out a deep, guttural oink before the coating of cream in your throat makes you choke, falling into a cough that reverberates through your soft, decadent body.

Your partner chuckles.

“Alright, need help sitting up?”

You nod as you start shifting to the edge of the bed, the rocking of your gut starting to shift you off balance as you reach the end.

“Alright big pig, gimme your arms…” your partner reaches out and grabs your pudgy fingers, helping you rotate so you’re on your fat ass, legs dangling off, belly filling and smothering your lap.

Now in a seated position, the afterglow just about faded away, you feel like a wreck. The sweat of your underboob and side rolls feels a little uncomfortable now, the tightness of your chest from the effort is leaving you feeling exhausted, your breath still catching up from the last few minutes of non-effort, leaving your head spinning a little, being pulled into a seated position that you don’t have the strength to get yourself into, the air thick with suffocating post-coital heat.

You fucking love it.

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