cellu-lightreading

[cellu-lightreading]

Past Life

Sean had spent the better part of 2 hours rolling around in bed fighting to fall asleep. Some people thought storms were perfect white noise, but Sean swore that the sky was angry with him. Every time Sean closed his eyes, he saw men he barely recognized. He thought he had seen the faces as profile pictures on his page. They’d grumbled in his comments about health at every size, self-love, and fatphobia. When Sean tired of them, he talked shit about them and their immense fat bodies to his thousands of followers. He knew they deserved to hear the truth about their bodies and their lifestyles. Yet tonight, for the first time, each and every one of these take downs came back to haunt him. Every flash of lightning pointed its bright white fingers at him. The very thunder seemed to yell at him. TRAITOR! LIAR! EXCUSES!

No! He was on the right side now. His past life as a gainer was buried. Dead and gone. 

Four ghosts appeared in a haze. Each one glowing their own color. Sean’s tired eyes could hardly tell who was in front of him. When he blinked, three disappeared and left the man glowing red. The red man climbed onto the bed. The second the man touched his dick, Sean recognized him. “Matthew,” he whimpered in pleasure. 

Matthew was one of Sean’s first boyfriends after coming out. The two of them had the wildest and the most incredible sex Sean has ever had in his life. After all this time, Matthew still had the fit body he had at 20. Every part of him was tight and fit. 

Matthew’s muscles looked heavenly in his crimson glow. Every ripple of his abs, the curve of his biceps and pecs. He was a work of art, and it made Sean conscious of every minute he spent of the last five years, building and sculpting his body into something equally divine. Matthew worshiped Sean’s dick with his mouth. His tongue worked every square millimeter of his shaft. Matthew teased at him until he tasted the salty pre-cum. Sean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Matthew rode Sean’s bucking hips with his face.

Matthew let his hands explore Sean’s body. It was much smaller than when they were dating. That could be fixed. The strong legs surrounding his head softened with just a graze of his hand, so could his glutes. Matthew’s glowing red fingers puffed up his pecs into moobs. His narrow waist and abs vanished under a puddle of pudge that became a starter belly. The Adonis from his Instagram had gone to pot. 

When Sean realized that Matthew was ruining his picture perfect body, he let out a yelp. “What are you doing to me?” he yelled. Matthew didn’t respond. He simply swallowed another inch of Sean and caressed his fattening body. He grabbed onto Sean’s love handles. Matthew massaged his dick with his mouth and sucked until creamy jets erupted from Sean’s head. Sean couldn’t help but recall how much Matthew was in love with his body back then. With one chaste goodbye kiss on the lips, Matthew faded away. 

Sean closed his eyes and the thunder cracked once again. His eyes opened and a figure in green appeared. His most recent ex appeared in a tank top and skimpy shorts just as always. Every part of his Instagram-ready muscles was on full display for the swooning public.  “Mark,” Sean whispered. Mark was the one who taught him all about health and put him on this path. 

Mark introduced him to the gym. Mark stopped him from eating chocolate at his desk. Mark stopped him from buying burger combos as snacks before he came home from work. Mark stopped him from ordering family combos as personal meals. Mark stopped him from sitting down with a cake from the grocery store and eating half of it as a midnight snack. 

Mark’s green glow lingered on objects as he circled the room. The dumbbells, the elliptical, the treadmill were all covered in a green haze. When the haze disappeared, so did the workout equipment. Mark left a trail of destruction that only belonged to a fat boy. Boxes of all the foods that Sean worked so hard to quit while he was with Mark- pizza, fried chicken, doughnuts- they were all scattered on the ground. 

Mark picked up the clothes Sean had lying around. Mark took a pair of sweatpants designed for Mark’s narrow waist and stretched it out until the waistband grew three times its original size. All the pants around the room followed suit, transforming for the life of a giant. The fabric of all his pant legs where the two titanic thunder thighs met was fraying from the friction. The seam tasked with keeping both beach ball sized ass cheeks was struggling to keep it together as the pants were filled beyond capacity. The shirts weren’t faring much better. Each one was the size of a tablecloth; its shape and pattern deformed to stretch around a bean bag belly. 

Mark stepped up to the bed and blew him a kiss. With just one puff of air, Sean’s body started to inflate from just a little pudgy to outright obese. He grew a true gut that stuck out far in front of him and drooped into an overhang. Love handles developed at the bottom of a stack of chubby rolls. His thighs blew up to the size of Christmas hams. Even his face went from a chiseled masterpiece to a bubble of fat, complete with a double chin, hiding his neck. Sean lost 150 pounds while he was dating Mark, and now he could feel every single ounce coming back and weighing him down in bed. 

“Mark, you were the one who made me into who I am today. How could you do this?” Before Sean could get an answer, Mark was gone. All traces of his influencer life were gone. He was back in the shell of a life from years ago. 

Sean forced his eyes closed. He had to be dreaming; this was all just one big nightmare. A bolt of lightning filled his room once again. A roll of thunder roared so long it shook the windows. Sean opened his eyes to yet another ghostly ex standing over him with a golden aura. The lab coat and stethoscope immediately told him it was Luke. He was a wealthy doctor, more than a couple years older than Sean with platinum hair and a puffy beard. 

Their entire relationship, Sean never wanted for anything. Luke was the dream daddy. Sean was holding down a work from home job he barely had to do anything for. It left his days free to be devoted to being a gluttonous pig. It was more of a challenge for him to fight through video games with his arm elbow-deep in a party size bag of chips anyway. When Luke missed Sean at work he would send enough delivery to feed a family of five Sunday dinner. When he outgrew his clothes, he bought the nicest things they make in sizes over 6XL. 

Sean got to be his highest weight when he was living as Luke’s pet. Anyone teetering on the edge of 500 pounds picks up some complications, and Dr. Luke loved to give Sean a check up. This one started the same way. Luke pressed his stethoscope to Sean’s soft chest. Sean found himself getting tired from the exercise after just a few deep breaths. His rolls were so heavy and his gut was so expansive that his lungs were constantly fighting to expand. The fat around his neck was bringing back his sleep apnea. Now Sean was what glowed; his chest and what used to be his neck was what glowed yellow. 

Luke moved his stethoscope toward his chest and the gold sparkles coalesced around his heart. The walls of Sean’s heart were coated with fat. The muscles pounded to pump blood out to his giant growing body. The glittering specks lit up every vein as the blood circulated, but the longer Luke’s stethoscope stayed in place, the worse it got. A fat boy diet was destroying his insides. Sean’s blood sugar rose from a lifetime of soda and sweets. His blood pressure from countless carryout containers filled with the saltiest food to come out of the kitchen. There was literally too much fat flowing in his blood from constantly sucking down greasy food. 

Luke dragged his hand down Sean’s soft flabby body and all his stretch marks began to glow. There were stretchmarks along his pillowy arms and across the wide expanse of his ass and everywhere in between. Then the stretch marks started to grow. His body was inflating beyond his skin’s imagination. He was reaching the superchub size he only dreamed of back when he was growing under Luke’s supervision and with his money. Boobs that could fill and overflow double D cup bras like a firehose. Arm folds bigger than a head and thighs round enough to challenge waists with potbellies. A cellulite-ridden ass that threatened to be so wide that it could reach both sides of his bed. A round waterbed gut that was so large that it eclipsed even his new mammoth features. A generous estimate would have him at 600 pounds, and even that seemed like an obvious lie as you observed the megachub before you. 

Sean was in abject fear at the creation of his exes. Once upon a time, this was a dream. All he wanted to do was be the heaviest thing for miles around. Now he was here and it felt like being trapped in handcuffs that couldn’t get taken off. Keeping himself alive took so much energy he was drowning in sweat that trickled in between the crevices of his gelatinous body. If he wanted to even run away, he had to overload his joints with the weight of 3 baby elephants and waddle with his stomach swinging like a wrecking ball and the folds of his limbs brushing with every moment. His own fantasies had turned into a nightmare. 

Luke’s golden luster disappeared and there were no more illusions about what was happening. He was being dragged back to his past, ounce by ounce. But wait. There was one more figure to visit. What was left? Who was left? 

Indigo fog floated into the room. The drifting clouds reflected the pale moonlight. Sean looked around and sitting calmly atop the minifridge was a bearish man with a pencil tucked behind his ear. He rested his worn notebook on the curve of his stomach. “John? You too? But I was the one who brought you into the gaining world. Where is the man I met who was ashamed of how big we were?!” 

When John and Sean met, John was a typical self-loathing chub. He tried every TikTok trick and fad diet to get rid of his curves. He desperately wanted them both to slim down so they could be the perfect twink couple. This plan was religiously sabotaged by Sean, who was deep in his gainer phase and trafficked junk food into the house like a drug cartel. In their battle of wills, John caved first. He gave in to the constant takeout and snack until he became the beefy bear he is today. 

John opened his mouth, but the voices of all his exes came out in unison. “You brought me into the gaining world. You have forgotten from whence you came and have become a monster. Now you must pay the price for your hypocrisy. We are restoring you to your past life.” Thunder roared outside. The indigo clouds began to swirl around the room. John took a step forward and placed his hand on Sean’s forehead. Sean’s eyes glowed purple. 

In his mind, Sean could see memories of his gym life being wiped like smudges on glasses. Every lost workout weakened his resolve. The internet applause he got every time he showed off for the cameras died and the ego that came with it was gone without a trace. In its place was a man with a striking clarity about who he was. Sean was over 700 pounds, exponentially larger than most people on earth. He could never claim to be better than anyone. He remembered when he was half this size and the waddle from his car to the gym was enough exercise to wear him out. His idea of meal prepping wasn’t moderated portion sizes in containers anymore, it was finishing one meal and immediately wondering what he was going to eat next. He was an unabashed lazy greedy glutton, and worse, he liked it. The bigger he got, the more he wanted. 

Sean opened his eyes and saw John straddling his belly with a pint of half-melted ice cream in his hand. John tipped the edge of the container against Sean’s lips. The moment Sean tasted the ice cream- cookies and cream, his favorite flavor- something primal unlocked. He gulped the ice cream down like water in the dessert. He took the tub from Mark’s hands and poured it at his own voracious pace. He stopped only to lick up the drops that dribbled out of his mouth and crunch on the Oreo pieces. When Sean finished the last morsel, John disappeared. 

The next morning, Sean woke up to a sunny cloudless day. As far as he could tell, it was the same as every other day. His massive body nearly eclipsed his sinking bed.The CPAP machine on his nightstand whirring to keep him alive through the night. His bones were aching from the silky soft lard weighing down on his every limb. The debris from his late night binges scattered on the ground filled the air with the smell of stale grease. Friction from the folds of his thighs on his morning wood was making him horny. And horny, like all his emotions, led him to one place: hungry. 

Time to find breakfast. 

[cellu-lightreading]

43% (The Vultures Diet)

Walter had been warned by everyone at the weight loss center about those dudes. They called them vultures. A group of skinny and muscular dudes at the edge of the parking lot watching clients go in and out the front door. The dieticians, the trainers, the doctors and the secretaries all told him that when someone becomes their victim, they never lose the weight, they just keep blowing larger and larger. Once he noticed the vultures once, he noticed them everywhere: at weight loss centers, at health food stores, at the gym. Their gaze was fixed on every jiggly roll they saw in January. Legend has it that they watched diet infomercials and weight loss shows, twisting their tips for weight gain ideas and watching with lust and desire in their eyes. They came out to wait on guys like him to waddle through the parking lot when their willpower can’t take anymore. That’s when they go on the attack.

Phase 1: Recruiting 

According to the numbers, 43% of people will give up on their New Year’s Resolution by the end of January, and an overwhelming number of resolutions failed will be attempts at losing weight.

Walter didn’t want to be one of them. The holidays had hit him pretty hard and by most estimates, he was already in need of a good diet plan before it started. October was a non-stop barrage of Halloween candy and then at the start of November, it’s all discounted. The end of November is Thanksgiving- the office Thanksgiving party, Friendsgiving, the family Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving leftovers. Before you know it, it’s December. Everyone is hosting a holiday party and offering special candies and homemade treats. If it’s Hanukkah themed, there’s destined to be doughnuts and latkes deep fried in oil. If it’s Christmas themed, anything and everything can end up being served. The month dead ends in a giant feast and a week of eating leftovers and doing absolutely nothing that might burn a calorie. The whole season was a long cycle of Walter eating a lot, folks offering him lots of food, him never saying no to food, and him eating even more.

So at the start of the year, Walter decided he would try to lose some of the 325 pounds he carried. He joined a weight loss program with centers so they could see him and pressure him into staying on track. And after just the first week, Walter was already slipping.

Walter already knew he was playing with fire when he came to the Vultures the second week of the month. He had reached his limit. All of the solid food he had eaten all day could fit in the palm of his hand. He was supposed to walk in to meet with his support group and be positive, though he’s never been so miserable. He spent all of his willpower earlier in the day when someone brought in cake for a birthday party, and they announced that they got a larger size just so he could have as much as he wanted.

When Walter saw the Vultures cooking, he knew God was pushing his buttons. The smell of burgers and fries crept through his car’s air vents. He parked away from the doors where someone might spot him, but now there was no one to protect him from the pure desire in the Vulture’s eyes. Walter thought he had been self-conscious about his size before, but that was nothing compared to having them measure him with his eyes. Every cellulite dimple on his thighs and ass, every fold stacked on his love handles to form his rotund gut, every single stretch mark was already known to them by the time he reached them.

One of them stepped up to greet Walter. He had a beard that framed his face well and captivating eyes that twinkled like the stars in the sky. “Hey my name is Oliver. What brings you in?”

Walter hated how he blurted out “the smell of that grill” before he could even think of a smart answer. Oliver and his friends chuckled at the outburst.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, “the grill gets more visitors than any of the rest of us. Why don’t I fix you a plate?”

“Thank you. You know, you all seem much nicer than people make you out to be.”

“I’m guessing your friends inside told you about us.” Walter nodded in agreement. “We’re really not that different. We just so happen to think men are better off when they’re built nice and wide. We think it’s sexy when a man likes to eat. Fat men are beautiful to us. Guys who have listened to us instead of them tend to be much happier. I know we’re going to make you happier already.”Oliver handed over a plate with two double cheeseburgers and a brown bag filled to the brim with fries. Walter could see the grease stains but he didn’t care. Walter licked his lips and devoured the burger in less than ten bites. He licked his fingers clean.

“That might have been the most delicious burger I’ve ever had. What’s your secret?”

“Well, we don’t skimp on flavor or quality. We’ll give you what you want by any means necessary. There’s no need to deny yourself with us. In fact, I think you’ll like our diet plan.”

Walter’s curiosity was piqued. “You have a diet?” 

Phase 2: How It Works

Walter had been working through his new diet for about two and a half weeks, and he still had questions. Oliver, his coach, was happy to walk him through everything.

Should I have a slice of the cake in the break room? No, have two. 

Should I have a salad for my appetizer? No, have mozzarella sticks.

Which chocolate bar should I have? Both and pick up the king size.

Oliver’s choices all felt so much more natural than Walter’s old diet. His old diet had a long list of foods he couldn’t eat that got rid of all his favorite foods. He was only allowed tiny portions at set times which left his stomach empty and mad the rest of the day. The old dietician found something new to chastise him for every single week he came in. Oliver never chastised him for eating what he liked; Oliver always wanted Walter to treat himself. 

One day, Walter was texting Oliver about all the cravings he was having while he was stuck at work. There was a big deadline coming up and he couldn’t take the time for one of his usual mid-day binges. A coworker had ordered sandwiches for the office, but that was far from enough for Walter’s big boy stomach. Walter tried to power through, but his mind kept wandering to all the meals he would normally have in an afternoon. His mind switched from burgers to fried chicken to quesadillas. He thought about the pizza and cinnamon stick combo at the place around the corner from the shop. 

At around 3 o’clock, there was a delivery for him at the front. Walter snuck downstairs and found a bunch of the Vultures holding bags of all the things he was thinking about. 

“Oliver told us that you were feeling a little hungry, so we thought we would help you out,” one of the Vultures said. 

“Oh you guys didn’t have to do this. Really! I don’t even have time to eat all this food.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand that you need to take just a few moments for your health,” another Vulture responded. “Besides, once you get some food in you, you’ll be a lot more focused and productive anyway.”

“Well when you put it like that, I can’t afford to not take a lunch break.”

Walter and the Vultures snuck into one of the nearby conference rooms and laid out the massive spread of food. Walter dove right in. His stomach was absolutely growling. When he started to feel full, those men lined up and ensured Walter ate every morsel of food they brought. They scooped up every crumb and drop of grease and put it in his mouth. 

Walter’s gut was bloated by the time he got back to his office. There were all colors of stains on his shirt. A coworker simply looked at him when he got back and asked:

“You couldn’t even bring up a bag of chips for the rest of us?”

Phase 3: Group Support

When the weather started to warm up in the spring and the coats came off, the real world started to look like after pictures. Diets and exercise started to pay off. Walter stared at photos of ripped abs and toned biceps and wandered if somewhere he had made a wrong turn. He sent a panicked text to Oliver who rushed over as fast as he could with his favorite treat- a box of doughnuts.

Walter held the box on his lap as Oliver launched into a diatribe. He wasn’t used to Oliver with lots of passion and emotion, but his heart was in this speech. Walter almost expected tears to start welling up in his eyes. 

“You have to stick with the program. I know it’s easy to lose faith when there’s all these messages telling you you’re supposed to be built like a cardboard cutout, but that's not who you are. And trying to be something you’re not is only going to make you miserable. You need to see what success looks like for someone like you. I know, you should meet some of the other guys in the program. I bet a trip to the buffet with them will have you feeling much more confident.” 

So the next evening, Walter is sitting at a table with three other dudes who were the size of planets. Oliver is sitting at the next table with one of the Vultures, some lanky dude who had an aggressively obvious boner from the moment he walked in. Oliver and the other Vulture served them eye-watering portions of whatever they asked for directly to the table so they didn’t get up. I left Walter with a lot of time to get to know the other guys.

Directly across from him was Justin, a high school teacher. He was a little like Walter- a chronic snacker. He would have snacks in between periods and while he was grading assignments and tests and some of the candy when he passed by the jars in the main office. It was an open secret among the students that bringing him a bite to eat could help boost your grade. Justin flashed the group a photo from when he decided he was going to lose the weight and consequently when he crumbled like the first cookie he got from the Vultures. He had an average build really, just a bit pudgy with a beer gut. Now that gut was an ocean of fat big enough to be used as an armrest and push his legs apart when he sat down. He confessed as he scratched at his stretch marks that the snacks from his students have grown that from his quite a bit. That morning, someone gave him a sheet of brownies and he finished the whole thing before the end of class. 

Next to Justin was Elijah, who was deep into a passionate love affair with fast food. He loved it so much that from high school through college, Elijah worked at a drive thru and abused his free food allowance. When he got a corporate job and he saw just how little of his dress clothes fit any more, he knew he had to make a change. But a body that’s used to making 2XLs look like kid’s clothes doesn’t know how to resist the grease laden siren songs. When the Vultures got a hold of him, they got him to spend all his new money indulging every desire they could fit in greasy brown bags. That’s why there’s a wrapper coming out of his too tight pocket. That’s why he’s gained the weight of a grown man in pure lard in just 13 months. The two chairs he had to push together don’t sound like they’ll make it through dinner, but there’s no way he’d fit in anything resembling a booth. 

Stuck next to Walter was Thomas. Thomas was a real glutton. He could eat for an hour straight and five minutes later start planning his next meal. Most days he ended up eating five times a day. Thomas was notorious for going to a drive thru for a snack for waiting in another drive thru. His brief moment of doubt came when he outgrew the big and tall section of his local department store. Two years later he was just fired for breaking his second reinforced office chair, and outgrowing the largest uniform  size of the supplier. Now he’s looking to officially make his waistline longer than his height. 

Walter couldn’t help but be a little bit impressed. By pure numbers, they were leaps and bounds from where they started. At the same time, they were bragging about a future that he was scared of. Didn’t this start because he was scared of forever being the massive elephant in the room? Why keep going down this road? And then they took their first bites of food and the taste does something to him. He sees what it does to the other guys. Their destiny was his and it was filled with happiness. No need to fear anything. 

Phase 4: Combined with Exercise

The countdown to Halloween was filled with one of Walter’s worst nightmares coming to life.  The elevator at his job broke down, and even worse, there was no clue when it would get fixed. Walter had gained close to 200 pounds since he had used the stairs in that building. Now he was stuck climbing a flight of stairs just to get to his cubicle.

When he opened the door of the stairwell, Walter tried to steel himself staring at the daunting concrete challenge. After all, there’s only one way to go. He grabbed onto the railing. The cheap metal groaned as he pressed on it. He hoisted his body up the first step and it felt like a triumph. Sure, it’s uncomfortable, but it’s not impossible. He can do this. Walter pushed himself up a few more steps. The folds of fat swang with every footfall. All that movement was straining the tight clothes that he perfectly positioned to cover his inflating body. Walter swore he heard seams ripping. As he approached the landing for the second floor, he started to feel the burn in his muscles. Sweat is rolling down his face. Walter summoned all the strength in his body and pushed forward to get through the door. 

On the other side of the door was the boss’s assistant, drinking her coffee. When she noticed him, she shot up out of her chair.

“Yay, Walter you made it. I have a surprise for you. Follow me, quickly.” Quickly? Walter wanted to spend the next half hour leaned up against the wall waiting on his heart rate to get back to a normal place. Walking should have been out of the question, but he didn’t have a choice. He followed the petite secretary as she began to explain, “Human Resources has reminded us that having the elevator break down causes undue stress onto you and the other ‘plus-sized’ members of our corporate family. And so as a way of compensating you for the trouble, Mr. Hartman has decided to provide you all with some snacks to start off the morning. Feel free to have as much as you want and maybe even more.”

A stack of doughnut boxes sat on the table in the middle of the break room. It looked pitiful. Worse yet, the only person sitting at the table was Rodrigo. Rodrigo had flakes of glaze all over his mouth and fingers and sprinkled down his shirt. The box of doughnuts next to him only had 3 left. Rodrigo was the de facto fat guy in our office. His belly was genuinely the size of a yoga ball and hung over his belt. If there’s leftovers to get rid of, they’re calling him first. One of the reasons I went on a diet at the beginning of the year was because O felt like I was going to be his size pretty soon.

When my boss’s secretary left, I looked at him and went, “Can you believe they’re trying to bribe us with doughnuts?”

“With how tough it was to get up those stairs this morning, we deserve it. There may not be many benefits to being fat guys, but a donut buffet all to ourselves is pretty good.”

“Still, it feels insulting. I know that I’m a little heavy but-”

“A little heavy? Bud, we’re looking at “a little heavy” in the rearview mirror. I’m very heavy and you’ve got almost 30 pounds on me. ”

“No, I mean I’ve let myself go this year but I’m not-”

“Don’t be modest. This is a safe space. You’re what? 420 pounds?” Rodrigo estimated. He was around 430 when he weighed himself last, and that was a few months ago. “I try my best to stay under the big 400, but it’s okay. We’re fat guys. We like to eat. There’s nothing wrong with that. Being fat is great! Today you got the fat guy’s dream: to get paid to sit around and eat donuts all morning. Don’t miss your big break.”

Unable to argue with his logic, Walter took a seat across from him. He grabbed a box of doughnuts and started chowing down. 

Phase 5: Success Stories

When New Year’s came and went once again, Oliver and the other Vultures invited him to a celebration for all of their clients who had major achievements in the past year. The Vultures would stop by and talk to him about how his year had gone and what his favorite fast foods had gone. Half the night, Oliver sat next to Walter and fed him treats with desire in his eyes. Every Vulture function involved a never-ending feast of good food, and Walter would know having been to so many in the past few months. 

In the last quarter of the year, it seemed like Walter was getting an invite to go to hang out with the Vulture every other week. It started off with their Halloween parties in October. Then they melted into Friendsgiving feasts and every kind of holiday something they could invent in December. The Vultures did everything they could short of kidnap him from his job to keep him eating at every hour of the day for two and a half months. With trainers and friends who were all in the program, they kept him accountable and made sure that he was always keeping Oliver happy with the stuff he was eating.

It was no surprise that Walter had managed to push past 450 by the end of the year. However the attitude shift had come as a complete surprise to Oliver. Walter was finally excited by eating. He started to like being fat. It gave him joy when he saw that he was getting bigger and fatter. Now he was a fat making machine and Oliver knew he was ready. 

Oliver came up to Walter at the end of the night with an envelope covered in dark spots made to look like grease stains. He said, “I’m really proud of you for all the work you put in this year. The guys and I have decided that you would make a great spokesperson during our membership drive this year. And it comes with a few benefits, if you’re interested.”

“Benefits?” Walter asked.

[cellu-lightreading]

Uncle Mac's Thanksgiving Glow

“I can’t believe Uncle Mac is making you all work on Thanksgiving night!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t the busiest day of the year, but it’s not a bad way to spend the holiday. It’s like getting to be with a bunch of families instead.”  The twang in Ben’s voice helped to hide the mix of emotions over the phone. Days like this it was impossible to not think about his family, even after all these years. His parents decided they didn’t want anything to do with him anymore once he came out, and he’s been making a new life for himself ever since. He can’t help but picture being back at that dinner table on Thanksgiving night with his cousins but being at the diner really did help to help the wound. He was grateful for the real love in his life. 

Ben and Lance had a new Thanksgiving tradition of hanging out with this father-son duo who found the restaurant some years ago looking for someone to cook them something special for Turkey Day. The story was sweet, and the dad- Whit- always started his tellings saying “I wish you all could have met my Sarah. She was an excellent cook. Food was her love language, the same way it’s all yours.”

Lance wonders sometimes if it was exactly the same as two feeders, but the results are pretty damning. Whit was big like a parade balloon when we first met him. His weight was in the mid 300s, and he carried most of it in a round gut that walked into every room before the rest of him. She also seems to have completely beat out any impulse of picking food beyond whatever sounds good and filling (and probably fattening). On the other hand, when you look at his son Walter, it’s clear that Sarah was good about keeping her boys fed. He was a puffy guy who had a magnetic attraction to anything sweet. He was noticeably smaller than his dad though; his weight was probably still in the 200s. 

Whit and Walter started coming to Uncle Mac’s their first Thanksgiving without Sara. They said they wanted a homely holiday with all their favorite traditional foods: mashed potatoes, stuffing, and tons of gravy. They enjoyed watching regulars file in on the holiday, watching them hug on their way too and from dinner with their families. Friends crowding around the TV screen for football. The waiters treated them with all the care and love in the world. Most importantly: everyone loved their food. Whit liked hearing all the customers with their Thanksgiving plans. 

“This year we have to go to have dinner with the in-laws and the food is always brutal. It’s always some fad health food that their trainers told them will be good for them. The stuff isn’t meant for human consumption, I tell you. It’s disgusting. Might as well sneak out for a real meal so I won’t be hangry like I was last year.”

“My wife has me on a diet right now, and apparently she was serious about not letting me cheat for Thanksgiving because she had something about every morsel of food on my plate. I shouldn’t be eating this, that’s too much, don’t over do it. Like damn, this is the one day on the calendar where it is okay to over do it a little.” 

The men of Uncle Mac’s reminded them of all the joy that Sarah served them with their food, and now there was a place that appreciated fat men like them. 

After spending an evening at Uncle Mac’s, food became an emotional touchpoint for Whit and Walter. It brought back memories of happy times and made new happy ones. Food was like a constant source of warm fuzzy happy memories that they could press over and over again. And without the guided hand and home cooking of Sarah, the boys were okay with eating anything. Gone were the feasts with balanced meals and in came all the trash they could possibly want. Stacks of pizza boxes, platters of ribs, and quesadillas and burritos wrapped in aluminum foil. Delivery and take out became their best friends.  It didn’t take them long until they were regulars at all their favorite restaurants, and the cashiers knew their names. 

They’re having fun. For the first time since Sarah’s death, they are having a good time. If food is what brings them together, then so be it. Whit loved bringing home giant bags of burgers if it means getting to see his boy smile. Walter liked encouraging his dad to have a big dessert as a midnight snack before bed. Neither of them ever take the bold step of shooting down a food idea. An extra couple boxes of wings with their pizza? Why not? A stop for ice cream on the way from the grocery store? Sounds good. 

But after a while, these aren’t treats anymore. It’s the new normal. Walter and Whit systematically eroded their willpower until food was their focus all the time. They never said no. Walter bought something every time he passed a food court or a vending machine on campus. Whit was always eating the snacks in the break room. 

Day after day, week after week, the calories went in and they didn’t disappear. Whit and Walter’s chunk frames started packing on pounds at breakneck speed. The waiters at Uncle Mac’s are experts at seeing guys get big; their estimates said they were gaining somewhere around 15 pounds a month. They were spiraling out of control, faster than they could even register. It seemed that every time they stopped by, they were always squeezed into shirts that couldn’t cover their whole belly and pants tight enough to outline the rolls inside their upper thighs. Raul thought it was cute that they still tried to squeeze themselves into the normal sized booths even though they could only fit if they sat on the same side and pushed the table back.  

When the coats came off in the spring and they saw just how much rounder they had become from months of binging, the waiters at Uncle Mac’s were in  a dilemma. It was obvious that no one was willing to be honest to Whit and Walter about just how much they had grown. They theorized that their friends were apprehensive to tell them how fragile they were emotionally right now. After all, the most important woman in their lives had died just a few months ago, who were they to say ‘move on with your lives and put down the fork, you’re comfort eating yourselves into immobility’?” According to their inside straw poll, not them. The vote came out five votes to four, so they all agreed to keep their mouths shut.

Lucky for the losing side of the argument, reality finally crashed through by the next time they came in a couple months later. Someone was doing a presentation in one of Walter’s classes and they had to use a different room for the day. Unlike the sturdy industrial metal ones he was used to, these were cheap plastic with attached armrests and desks. It was still wider than a lot of other chairs with armrests, so Walter thought he stood a good chance of being able to squeeze in. He leaned back to drop his body into the cup of the chair and got stuck. Really what happened is his love handles were too wide to slide into the chair. Thinking it had just been a fluke, Walter tried to push on the creaking chair to let him settle in. He was closer, but nowhere near the bottom. The creaking of the chair got louder. Walter slowly slid down and the plastic around his ass was starting to bend and warp. Snap! Walter looked down and a big new hole appeared. Snap! Snap! Snap! Now there’s multiple holes and one of the armrests and has almost entirely popped off. Crackle! Pop! Thud! The force of Walter falling to the floor shook the whole classroom from the chairs to the walls. All of the eyes in the room began to focus on him. The window of the door was filled with people peering in to find the source of the thunderous vibration. 

When Walter came home and told his dad, the older man couldn’t help but feel bad as he searched for the scale. How could he have let things get like this? He looked down at his own body and thought about how lucky he had been to not have to go through something just as embarrassing. The yoga ball sized gut that sat in his lap all day was growing just like the pillows around his arms and moobs that kept him from ever putting them down at his size. Whit slid out the scale and let Walter step on. After a few tense seconds and a brief struggle to see the result past their billowing bellies, Walter read out:

“Error. Guess we’ve outgrown this old thing too, huh, Dad?” 

Whit nodded in response. “Yeah, I think this has a capacity of around 300, so we’re going to need something pretty serious to replace it.”

So they went into the supermarket and stood on the industrial scales before the crowd bustling around them. The dial was big enough for them to see with ease and big enough for anyone passing by to get a glimpse of the number too. Walter stepped on the scale and the needle went flying into the 300s, landing squarely at 376. Whit took a deep breath before taking his turn. The number couldn’t be any worse than the feeling of the weight on his chest when he lays on his chest, he reasoned. The step onto the platform revealed the number: 487. Just one good meal short of 500.

“Walter, I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of us and now look at us.”

“But Dad, you did take care of me. So maybe we’re not fitness models, but I’m okay. You kept joy in my life when it wasn’t a guarantee at all. If you don’t believe me, then we’ll have to go somewhere people really know us so they can tell you.”

Walter brought his dad to Uncle Mac’s and explained the whole situation. The waiters were frankly relieved to be able to talk out the guys’ weight freely. Now they could offer actually useful advice.

“There is nothing wrong to look for something comforting in the aftermath of a traumatic event like the love of your life dying. Unhealthy would be picking up drinking or crime or trying to suppress the emotions until they explode.” Taylor explained as he took their order and added an extra appetizer to the order. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with getting big and being fat. We happen to like guys that way, and we’re not the only ones.” Lance said as he dropped off their food. 

“The real problem,” Ben insisted as he passed out dessert, “is that you lived in denial for such a long time and tried to pretend you were just the same as stick thin guys. You need to live fat guy lives. You need to get clothes that fit and stop trying to sit in flimsy chairs. Listen to Raul and stop trying to squeeze in between things like your ass can’t knock things over before you know it exists. Even if you tried dieting, which I don’t think will work that well but let’s assume, you won’t be thin tomorrow. You still have to live in the giant bodies you have right now. You might as well get used to it. You’re fat guys who enjoy their food, live it up.”

Whit wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the guys at Uncle Mac’s first, but he decided to give it a try. He started small by buying a seat belt extender for his car (because it had been a long time since he got that to buckle). Then he tried using two chairs to support his weight and avoiding plastic seats. When he went a full week without hearing something creak under him, he was convinced. He invested in buying new big and tall furniture for his house, rearrange everything to get rid of the narrow corners, he even switched out his belts at work for suspenders and found out that he was a lot more comfortable and ate more when he didn’t have a belt digging into him all the time. With just a couple alterations, Whit has turned the house into a haven for the two fat boys who call it home. 

Cool air and the smell of stuffing rolled around again just three months later. Thanksgiving reappeared and the waiters were looking to see all their favorite faces. When Walter and Whit waddled in, Raul gasped. It was the kind of transformation that gainers could never get on purpose. They were gigantic. Their faces had gotten so inflated, they almost looked like different people. And when they ate, it was like they had unlocked different people. Gone were the timid guys who casually worked through half a chicken as a snack. Now they mowed through the food like true pigs. If something managed to spill out their mouth, they were coming behind it with a piece of bread and licking their fingers. They couldn’t get enough no matter how much they order.

Ben and Lance looked on as they observed what had become of the timid two who had walked in the year before looking for a little TLC. When Whit popped a button off of his shirt, a wide small spread across Walter’s face and that was the moment they knew. Walter was beaming with pride watching his dad get so big. Whit smiled back at his son. These were two more of Uncle Mac’s pigs, forever changed. 

Two Thanksgivings later, Walter and Whit were waddling through the door once again with bright smiles on their faces. They said hello to everyone they saw, now knowing the names of so many of the other regulars. As happy as they were, the sweat forming on their brow in the cool November air was proof that the distance from their car was not such a casual trip anymore. A space on the benches in the waiting area appeared for the pair of them.

Walter is now one of the biggest guys in the whole restaurant, and people treated him like the massive superchub he was. It’s an impressive feat to cross the 600 pound mark before the age of 23. The only reason he seemed to stick in some people’s minds as smaller than he actually was, was because he always came in with his dad. Whit is so big now, every step seems like a triumph. Immobility is knocking on the door all the time and there’s no telling when it will come. He still wouldn’t miss being at the diner though. 

Lance and Ben took care of their old friends and let them chow down as the food came out. Their orders were too big to fit on the table anyway, so at least this way they have time to sit and chat while they eat. 

“I can’t believe you wake up every morning and still drag your 750 pound body into work everyday. That’s dedication.” Lance said. 

“Well I like what I do, and besides how else are we going to keep food on the table if folks don’t go to work?” Whit responded. 

“This is his coded way of saying that he doesn’t want me at home taking care of him,” Walter said. 

“What do I need him home for? He’s not that much better than me at being able to pick things up off the ground or walking long or medium distances. He’s a young guy who has better things to do than hang around his old man like start his career.” Whit explained. Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ben, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Would your dad put your life on pause like that?”

Ben’s eyes opened wide. “Oh I wouldn’t trust my dad’s opinion on anything.”

“He raised you. He must have done a decent job somewhere along the way. I bet he’s proud to have a son like you walking around.”

“My dad cut me out of his life some years ago. I haven’t heard from my family in forever.”

Whit cupped Ben’s face in his hand and said, “Well know that I’m so very proud of you. I’m glad to have you as my family. I know you’re busy at work, but know you’d always be welcome at our table for Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time son. Now be a good boy and get your folks a glass of the sweet potato pie milkshake,” Whit said.

Ben laughed and said, “Yes sir. Comin’ right up.”

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 14- Pumpkin Spice

Nick dropped his heavy body into the view of his camera making the chair under him erupt in creaks. Nick started to smile and jiggle his belly for the benefit of his subscribers. He grabbed the large pumpkin pie from the corner table and placed it at the shelf at the apex of his gut. He sprayed a bunch of whipped cream on to the pie before spraying some in his mouth. He took his fingers and lifted a chunk of pie out of the tin. The delicious savory taste of the pie made Nick’s eyes rolol back in pleasure.

“Nick, I’ve been trying to text you for ages! What the hell-” Nic’s friend Troy yelled as he took the keys out of the door. “Why are you pigging out on pie? Where’s your costume?”

“Costume?” Nick froze in fear.

“Yes for Katy’s birthday/ Halloween party. All of us were supposed to come in costume. It starts in… 2 minutes ago. Come on, let’s go!”

“I completely forgot about it! I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You don’t have your costume from last year?”

“I can’t fit in any clothes I was wearing last year.”

Troy groaned. “Oh my God. Wait! I think I have an idea. I think I still have that body paint from game day last weekend. With a little creativity, we might be able to make this work.”

A short while later, Nick walked back into the living room and a smile spread across Troy’s face. “This feels like the absolute worst costume possible. It has to be better for me to just not show up in costume at all.”

“No way, people have to see this. It’s perfect!”

Nick’s upper body was covered in orange body paint, and even without the very expressive face drawn in black, everyone would immediately be able to call out what his costume was. The round gut bulging out over his body made for a perfect pumpkin. The ghastly smile of his jack-o-lantern followed the curve of his pudge.

“I can’t believe you expect me to just walk around shirtless all night.”

“If it’s any consolation, I have another pie for you to eat in the car on the way, so we can put the stuffing back in this pumpkin.” Troy patted Nick’s gut. “Now come on, we’re going to miss all the fun.”

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 12- Candy Crush

This fall, I am on a campaign to fix a major injustice- Halloween not being a major gainer holiday. Just one month before Thanksgiving, America has a whole dedicated to candy. It’s the only acceptable reason for someone to crash from a sugar rush after hours of candy. Not to mention, offices will put out candy dishes weeks in advance and every store will sell their largest bags for half price the week after. Halloween is the day fat kids dream about all year, and it’s time this community start acting like it. That’s why I started working on this project 10 months ago.

I present to you Transformers Candies. (I know, not the most original name.) They're personally crafted by men and made in my backyard factory. Each flavor was concocted by me to have their own effect on the customer’s body. The flavor names are all puns so you know exactly

Rather than test them myself, I brough them to gainer night at the local bear club. I don't have much in the way of friends, but these greedy guys were not going to turn down free candy. It was harder to get them to eat the first one by itself. They popped them in their mouth and immediately the taste was a success. “These are so good!” “It tastes amazing.”

Now time for the moment of truth. I waited patiently to see whose would kick in first, if at all. I asked them what flavor they had. The first guy flipped the wax paper and read it aloud:

“Bear’s Honey” A mild flavor drawn by the smallest of the bunch. His lithe body puffed up bit by bit from its his skeletal frame. A bit of pudge appeared on his waistline and fat seemed to trickle in, filling him out from the bottom. Thick thighs appeared to give his new stockier frame a wider base. His middle ballooned into a round firm gut with love handles. Pillowy pecs came next, first as muscle and then as flabby moobs. His arms begin to bloat from his fingers to biceps, first growing muscle then being buried in fat until the strength is only suggested. The last step was his face- chubby cheeks and a jawline converted into a double chin with a beard that stepped up his masculine look. The transformation was gradual; until it was too much to ignore.  “Holy shit, these really work!”

The rest of them flipped their wax paper and the chemicals started to do their part. “Bubble Butt Bubblegum” As a six-foot-tall super chub, people have never called him small. Despite being the owner of a belly the size of couch cushion, beyond his waistline, he was flat as a board. At least he was. When the group looked at his backside, his pants weren’t baggy. Two massive shapely globes had become a fixture just below his waistline. They were so big the seam along the back of his pants were fraying trying to hold on.

“Double Chunky Chocolate” A shiver practically ran down my spine hearing that one; things were about to get interesting. The guy reading it was the biggest of his friends. He looked like he hadn’t trusted a public chair in years. He had a giant soft gut that went most of the way to his knees, thighs wider than most people’s waists, and no neck to be found under his chubby jowls. Doubling that produced a spectacular show. Expansion at that size meant popping off the buttons to make more room and the shirt still ripping at the seams. Expansion at that size means hearing his breathing get harder with the extra stress on his lungs. Expansion at that size meant hearing the screech when the bariatric stool he travels found out that there were limits to its impressive stress.

Another group of guys walked up to us. “Hey, we’ve been watching you guys blow up, and we want in. Do you have any more of that candy?”

“Sure, there’s a bunch of other flavors like Thick Thighs Lemon-Lime, Root Beer Beer Gut, Caramel Cellulite, Plain Vanilla Dadbod-”

“Wait a second, how come you didn’t change?” One of the new guys pointed at the only one of the original group with no signs of a change.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe they don’t work on me. I did get snacky and start munching on a handful of candies. Maybe it was the flavor. He flipped over the first candy wrapper and read it out loud, “Gluttonous Grape. Oh. Oh no. I’ve had like 7 other candies…���

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 11- Power Play

Dear Malik,

How long did it take you to put this plan together? When did you start to see this life for me in your mind’s eye? Think about the man you have turned me into. I am lazy and dependent on you and the servants of the house. I am a glutton who spends his days eating and thinking of eating. Worst yet, I am enormously fat and still growing. I am a pig among men.

I pity the man who tries to underestimate you. You were born into nothing and were treated as a nothing when you came to this country. I hired you as a lowly servant to do my bidding. Yet you turned our rules against its own son.

In our country, options for fun are more restricted. It is illegal for to sell alcohol and impossible to find and do drugs. Nightclubs and parties like they have in the West do not exist here. So the thing to do in our lives of excess is to eat. The place to be is a mall food court. The drive thru is the hub for our guilty pleasures. We import the world’s restaurants as status symbols.

I’ve never believed in denying myself anything unless absolutely necessary. You’ve seen how insatiable I can be. I can follow a big burger with an hours-long trip to the Chinese buffet. If an ad appears on my phone or I pass by a sign, I have to make a stop.  My appetite only seems to grow with every passing year. I call you and send you messages with food orders, and you pick surprises to leave in my boxes so even when I’m done eating, I can have a little extra. You refill the snack drawer at my work desk so there’s always a handful of my favorites to grab and graze on over hours. I'm addicted and you enable my every desire.

In our country, we’re accustomed to not doing things. Servants are a part of life. We pay people like you from across the continent to do all that we won’t. In the intense heat of the desert, we’d rather a life of being chauffeured from one air-conditioned building to another. We’d rather someone else do the heavy lifting of cleaning and cooking and construction and gardening.

It makes for a very relaxing life for us, and I’m willing to admit that I have taken advantage. When I was a kid, my parents had servants who did everything for our family. Now I have you all do everything for me. With every passing day, my legs and arms and belly get heavier and harder to move. I need help to put on socks and shoes as my stomach gets in the way. I need help to fetch things across the house, so I don’t reach my destination sweating and panting. I need some to go down all the corridors and doorways too narrow for me to slide through- the love handles got too wide and my ass sticks out too far. You always make sure I’m always taken care of.  And I’m only going to become more and more dependent on help as I grow older and bigger.

In our country, there are strict rules about how men can engage with women. There are places we cannot go together and so many things they cannot do. Even if you’re a married couple there are rules about how you can show affection. And so the men spend our days being mainly with other men, showing our affection to men, growing closer to the men in our lives. You can hold a man’s hand and kiss them in the street and it’s normal here.

Being gay might be a crime, but the rules leave lots of space for gay men to live full lives in the shadows. You always knew the power you held in the male gaze. You knew our country was filled with repressed men who dream of finding someone gorgeous and sweet like you. Oh it was so hard to resist you in the beginning; you always walk in the door with your muscles glistening from the sweat of the day, feigning you didn’t know how tantalizing you looked. You shared your irresistible smile all day as you did your tasks, putting the pieces in place to build a future where I fattened myself up beyond belief. The smaller my world girl, the bigger yours became. Migrant workers have no rights when they come, but I gave you access to as much as I could. My money became your money. My freedom became your freedom. My power became your power.

Now my life is simple.  I am four times the size of the average person. The servants burn all the calories that I would. My only outings are to gorge on rich fast food until they replace their tiny chairs with reinforced benches. I work all day to bring in money for you to buy yourself gifts. I fatten myself just as you want. I become, just as the old Persian tale says, a slave to a slave.

Yours,

Basit

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 10- Full Moon

It’s so important to take opportunities when they come to you. Scott and I decided to go to this fall festival at the shopping plaza by his house. It’s a cute couple’s activity where neither of us have to think too hard about what do we want to do. We can try some sweet potato pie and take cute pictures in front of an incredibly fake pumpkin patch set up. Scott tries his hand at some carnival games and wins me a cheap t-shirt.

The whole night is going great until some idiot walks straight into us. He spills the contents of his chili cheese fries onto Scott. His shirt is completely ruined. The guy takes the single napkin he has in his hand to try to clean it up, but Scott waves him off. It’s going to take a little extra to clean this mess up.

“You could switch t-shirts and put this one on. It beats walking around with chili.” I try handing him my new gifted shirt.

“No way! We’re nowhere near the same size.”

“Just give it a try.”

Scott shook his head and took the shirt from me. He pulled off his shirt and your eyes couldn’t help but be captivated. Scott had a big gut and milky white skin. His gut was wide and round like the full moon. It stuck out so far Scott couldn’t see his feet when he stood up. It shook when he laughed and jiggled when he stepped. The impression of stretchmarks could be seen by anyone who dared stare long enough.

Scott unfurled the size small shirt I gave him and knew immediately that there was trouble. The fabric settled just past his perky chest on the top of his belly. Every attempt at trying to make it go down only made it more resistant to staying put. The shirt looked like a bra with sleeves and his stomach was still proudly on display.

“I told you it wouldn’t fit,” he said.

I said, “I like the way this fits.”

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 9- Euphoria

Your young years are supposed to be filled with self-destructive decisions, at least that’s what TV tells me. I don’t think that they imagined what my friends are doing. I mean, I guess it’s a little cliché. Lots of kids move out of their parents’ house as soon as they possibly can to do all the stuff their parents didn’t approve of. Lots of kids move in with their friends thinking it will be the best time ever. A staggering amount of young people use how hot they are to make money online. I guess the difference is most of them are not over 500 pounds trying to concoct ways to get fatter.

I’m not sure it’s fair to say we’re like most other gainers either. After all, most gainers would hit 500 and wonder if they’re getting too big to function in human society. The question becomes: how do you support yourself?

“We don’t. That’s what the internet is for.” Robin was the pragmatic one who was good at planning. As a teen, he disguised his interest in gaining in sports.  He joined the football team and let the coach demand that he eat big and grow big. The whole time he knew that when he quit sports that his newly expanded appetite wouldn’t stop, but all the muscle he had gained would dissolve into fat. Now he’s so big that his old jersey wouldn’t even be able to cover the giant shelf of moobs that sit on top of his belly, but he is an absolute beast at eating contests.

Robin suggested turning our apartment into the perfect fantasy for feeders, chasers, and encouragers to watch. One glutton willing to show off every stretchmark of their six-foot wide belly already drives them wild, imagine four.

It all goes just as he said when we get our first viral clip. The four of us moving around on a bed frame turned the poor thing into tiny pieces of scrap metal in the middle of a stuffing. The sound of creaking things is practically ambient noise in a house where nothing is built to withstand the weight of even one of us. Why stop eating for that? We were enjoying  ourselves with bucket after bucket of fried chicken and fries. It was already so fattening that grease would drip down our fingers and mouths, then we had the nerve to start dipping the food in vats of cheese and gravy.

This was really Davie’s idea. He was a fat kid, so he’s been experimenting with the most pleasurable and wildest combinations of food for years. Finishing off a pint of ice cream by eating it with a couple stacks of McDonald’s pancakes? That’s normal for Davie. It’s also why his blood sugar levels are obscenely high. He doesn’t even care ever since he found out he can use insulin and turn all his worst fattening instincts to get even fatter. It’s his voice at the end of the clip, right after the bed collapses asking: “What are you guys thinking of for dessert?”

A house with four growing superchubs has certain logistical problems that have only gotten worse as we feed each other. All the walking required just to take out the trash makes it the least favorite chore in the house. But we’re also getting to the point where we need just to take care of ourselves. None of us can bend to the ground and tie our shoes. Even if we get most of our stuff delivered, someone has to be able to fit behind the wheel of the car- seatbelt extension or not.

“That’s where in person feeders come in.” Troy suggested. He’s the most conniving of the group. He literally wore his parents down until they gave up and enabled him through his teenage years. Now he’s 22 and considers a 5 minute walk an intense workout that should leave everyone out of breath and drenched in sweat like him. “Countless boys want to come experience the house. Let’s see who can really handle it. Encouragers will relish the chance to help you shower if you tell them it’s their opportunity to rub every square inch of your body and feel between your folds. They will jump at the chance to clean up if you tell them about how you made the mess by falling asleep after an hour long binge. If the price for a butler is that they call us fat ass pigs, which we already say to each other because it’s true, I think it’s worth it.”

That little tidbit is how we started getting other men in our house. The feeders would come do everything for us just as Troy wanted. Muscular men would come through the house and put down cinderblocks to reinforce the couch and clean the kitchen. The prices ended up being a little flexible. It could just be a tease here and there. Sometimes they did it to feel the folds of our belly on their head while they sucked our dicks. We would make videos with them and they would charm us completely.

The problems started when Robin and one of the feeders started getting really close. They were texting all the time and he was coming over a lot. Robbie had gotten attached, and it was evident to everyone but him. He did everything but make Pinterest boards for the wedding. The feeder wasn’t nearly as interested; he was just looking to live out some fantasies.

So it didn’t mean anything to him when Robin was gone but Troy answered the door one afternoon. It didn’t mean anything to him that he fed Troy a buffet of McDonald’s. It didn’t mean anything to him when Troy kissed him and seduced him and fucked him. It didn’t mean anything to him that they did every day of the rest of that week. But it meant something to Robin.

When Robin saw that Troy had uploaded a video of the two of them to his page, he was distraught. He chewed out Troy who could only defend himself by saying that the feeder didn’t think they were exclusive. He had a hard and heartbreaking conversation with the feeder who never once thought about how he would hurt Robin. Lastly, he came to me with a gallon jug of ice cream and a tote bag of toppings to cry on my shoulders.

The hard parts of life were fully my domain in the house. I couldn’t start trying to gain until I could support those dreams myself. At 16, I got a job at fast food chicken place and spent my checks and my late nights in high school and college munching on all the greasy food I could handle at once. The more time I had to work, the more money I had in my bank account, the more I was eating. The boys had appointed me the dad friend, and I was the one up late at night mindlessly eating a pie and paying bills with sticky fingers. I was the one who balanced the house’s budget in the morning and relaxed with a beer at night.

When boys start acting like teenagers, you need an adult to step in. I consoled Robin until the early morning, letting him eat his feelings until he fell asleep in my bed. I shook Troy down until he felt some remorse and apologized. When it was all over, Davie brought me a small bowl of ice cream, wrapped his arms around me and said,

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the drama of a Euphoria episode, but you’re a good enough friend that we never worry about that stuff.”

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 6- Possession

If you want to see what I can do with Possession, check out my story "The Legend of Dylan", a story about a god of gluttony wreaking havoc on his hometown when the mayor rejects him. Read about the kind of power he can have over a whole town of men right here !

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 8- Plugged In

I've been playing with this idea for a while because as ridiculous as it seems it's practically non-fiction at this point.

+++

It is like the worst kept secret in the gainer community that the guy behind the rewards program on the Sparks Bros. app is a feeder. It’s a little too easy to use. I’m not a fast-food fan, but my friend Charlie liked Sparks Bros. before he downloaded the app. He tried it out over a year ago and ran an experiment.

Charlie was barely over 200lbs back then. He was struggling to get all his bills paid every month. He didn’t have money to pig out the way he wanted to. He needed the discounts anyway. That’s when he started to get the notifications. Triple cheeseburgers are buy one get one free! Combos are 50% off! Get two free apple pies with any order you make on the app! They come in at all our hours of the day, but they don’t last long. A deal is only good if you take advantage of it. Charlie didn’t mind it because Sparks Bros are everywhere: next to his job, down the street from his apartment, on his commute home.

In just a few weeks, he realized that he was eating more than ever while spending less on food than ever. He got to the end of the third month almost 25 pounds heavier than when he started. For the first time in his life, there was more than a little pudge that bulged out when he sat down.

The trick of the app though, is that it logs just how many times you passed by the drive thru or walked in a store or ordered delivery. And every single time it racked up more points, gave you more discounts, handed out more free food. Charlie was slowly but surely replacing all his meals with Sparks Bros fries and chicken nuggets and gallons of soda. The next 25 pounds came in half the time, thanks to the eyewatering amounts of grease, sugar, and sodium he was putting into his body. With all the money he was saving, he could afford to replace all the clothes he was outgrowing.

When Charlie hit the six-month mark of his experiment, he had successfully added 70 pounds onto his once small frame. His thighs and hips were much thicker and wider with stretchmarks going down from his ass. A giant yoga ball of fat sat in his lap, permanently placed on his waistline. The results spoke for themselves. Unfortunately, some might say, Charlie had also completely developed a fast food that clawed at him at all hours of the day.

The app was willing to keep going with him though. It was still sending him cheeky messages that only fed into our suspicions. You’re looking hungry! Have one more bite. You know you want it. What’s life without dessert or two? It was all just enough to keep us intrigued and opening the app. The feeder behind the code knew just what to say and do. After all, he managed to put another fifty pounds on Charlie in the next six months of the year.

Now Charlie was the resident fatso at all his local Sparks Bros. He was the guy who waddled in and worried the cooks. He was the guy who took over a booth and moved the table back so he could fit his belly in front of the table. He was the guy who always walked out with giant overloaded bags and greasy wrappers everywhere around his car. It didn’t matter what his doctor might have to say, Charlie was sure the Sparks Bros was the best thing to ever happen to him.

And crazier still? There are lots of fat gluttons like Charlie who let that app transform them.

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 7- Magic Mirror

He caught me on the right day. I’m tired and defenseless at a theme park having a family vacation with my husband and our two boys. This is the kind of day that they are going to remember for the rest of their lives, and I feel absolutely empty inside. It’s been three days of sweating in the Florida heat. I have a lot of time standing in lines to think about how I got here. When the man in the cheap costume comes up to me asking me if I want to see what my life could have been like with a few different choices, I’m expecting a fluke. I’m expecting something laughably bad. I’m not expecting to see my dreams play out.

I step into this booth where an ornate mirror is leaning on the side of the tent. The man comes in and whispers the magic words: “Mirror Mirror on the wall, reflect my greatness instead of my fall”.

The background behind my reflection fade to white. Then my facial features start to inflate; my cheeks get puffier, my jawline fades, a second and third chin appear, my neck disappears. I take a step back and my reflection follows. I can see its torso now. My fit biceps and pecs are replaced by pillowy arms and moobs. A soft expansive round gut was overshadowed by the giant ass wider than a monster truck tire and tree trunk thighs that would rival an oak tree. I looked sexy as hell; I haven’t felt that good since I lost all that weight when our oldest was born.

An extra arm appears in the mirror with a spoonful of chocolate cake. I suck it off the spoon seductively and gaze lovingly at the person holding it. I pull them into views and it’s my husband, just as fit as ever but with his naturally silver hair instead of the bottle blonde he keeps to shut up the PTA moms. I gave him a kiss and it’s magical watching us together just like old times before our lives and schedules got so complicated.

Colors begin to fill in the background of my reflection. Our bedroom came into focus with a few changes. The giant board with our family to-dos was replaced with a fridge. A CPAP machine sat on my nightstand. Our mattress has all of these dents from where my fat ass has spent too much time. There were pictures of the two of us at all or life accomplishments where you can see me pile on the pounds over the years. I was living the life I had always dreamed where a hunky man fattened me into oblivion.

The attraction employee comes in behind me and says, “It doesn’t have to be a one-time deal. For just $14.99, you can have this medallion and visit this reality whenever you like.”

It’s finally within reach. I don’t even think twice. “Do you take card?”

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 5- Tea Party

When Derek, the smallest person in our friend group hit 600 pounds, we knew we had to do something special. It’s not every day that a man gets that big. We have to celebrate that kind of accomplishment. Derek suggests something fancy and elegant. “What if we tried one of those tea houses downtown?” Not the usual pig out, but okay, I guess.

We pick a Saturday to get all dressed up and meet in their parking lot. Looking at us you can clearly tell that this friend group is getting to the end of an era. Someone thin trying to get in character might put on a suit with a vest, maybe add a top hat or a cane if they wanted to be funny and over the top. At our sizes, black pants that we can get on without holes or rips are fancy. Putting on a shirt with buttons is fancy. Three-piece suits are for people who will go out to wear them multiple times before they outgrow them. Even with these lax standards, our group isn’t quite up to snuff. Half of them are wearing shirts small enough that their belly hangs out the bottom, half of us have holes along the thighs from chub rub. All of us look daunted by the substantial walk from our cars to the front door.

Fifteen minutes after we arrived, we made it to the door. I wish I could have taken a picture of the hostess’s face when we arrived. Shock and horror don’t do it justice. The sight of us showing up must have been incredible. Eight of the largest and fattest men you have ever seen waddle and wobble in, completely drenched in sweat from the walk from the parking lot around the corner. The sound of their panting drowning out the specially curated soundtrack to your Instagrammable experience.

Derek took the lead and asked for his reservation. Clearly flustered, she tried to be polite. “I don’t think we have a table big enough for your party.”

Derek insists; he made the reservation over a week ago. Any restaurant should be able to accommodate a party of eight, right?

After nervously jumping from excuse to excuse, the hostess finally told him the flat-out truth. “I don’t think our dainty furniture is going to make it through an afternoon with you all. The tables aren’t wide enough, and the chairs aren’t strong enough. They’re tiny and wooden and you’re all going to be very uncomfortable.”

Derek refused to take no as an answer. He storms off to an empty table and honestly, he looks like a dad playing with his daughter’s play set. The table isn’t spread out nearly as wide as his love handles. (I can’t imagine how we would put our food on the table- we need more than a cup of tea and a saucer with a couple cookies.) He pushes two seats together and drops his body on them. Immediately the wood creaks loud enough so everyone in the spot can hear it and it doesn’t stop. Derek shifts his weight just a little bit and we can hear the warning sign for what happens next. Derek plummets to the ground surrounded by the tiny shards of the chair.

I walk over and pull him off the ground. “If you’re attached to having a Chinese tea experience for your celebration, we can call Mr. Jung- he can probably set it up by the time we get to the buffet.”

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 4- Leashed

This one is a glimpse into a much larger story I want to tell some day, so I hope you enjoy.

+++

Why would I bother with chains?

You could never leave but you won’t ever want to. This is a cage you will grow to love.

Think about it. You’re in your late 20s with nothing good to show for the last few years of your life. You’ve ruined everything by being a gluttonous pig. You haven’t said no to food in over a decade and your whole life revolves around sitting on the couch. Now look at you: over 500 pounds and wider and rounder than you are tall.

The fat on your arms and legs will keep you from moving better than any cuffs. The pendulous gut around your middle with its insatiable greed can’t fathom going without. There is only so far you’re willing to go without a meal in your mouth and a snack in hand. It’s a ball and chain as good as any other. Especially once you see the amenities, you’ll love it.

This might be a cell, but it’s much nicer than that ratty tiny apartment you pay too much for. This has a mini fridge next to your bed, a minifridge next to the couch and a full sized one- all of which will always be fully stocked no matter how much food you pull out. We also stock the many snack drawers and bowls around the room. There are snacks in the top drawer of that dresser and in a bowl in the bathroom. We will bring you whatever food you want with just an over an intercom within minutes. There are ice cold pitchers of the most milkshake ever concocted. Sure, there’s no pool or gym, but you don’t use those. You’ll get much more use of the brand new 4k television we have in here.

Can’t you picture spending time in here? Letting afternoons go by with a couple boxes of pizza on the couch while playing your favorite games. You could pop doughnut holes in your mouth while lounging in your brand-new luxury bathtub that’s complete with jets. Yeah, it is a pretty good deal. Just come live here. Feel at home in your cell and don’t think about how big you’re getting. There’s no one to care if you stain something with all the food you eat, pop a button on your shirts while pigging out, rip a seam apart with your ass or outgrow your clothes. We’ll take care of that for you. There’s no one to judge you when chairs and couches and bed frames bend and break under your weight. We’ll just fix them for you. Just relax.

And when you want to complain about how hard it’s getting to move, just remember it’s much better than chains and a leash.

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 3- Creepy Cookies

They just showed up on his desk.

A large brown paper box filled to the brim with cookies. There was a tiny note that said “Hope you enjoy”, but no name. The cookies were soft and filled with fudge on the inside. Culinary perfection. Cookies never hurt anyone; Justin decided.

The next day, more cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. No note, just an incredible smell that promised something as good as the day before. Why look a gift horse in the mouth.

So in went every single day. A box of cookies on his desk with his explanation. Justin ate them every single day without question. Well, no questions until about 3 weeks in, when he caught a glimpse of his reflections in his car window. He was looking a lot rounder than usual around the middle. Justin knew his metabolism had slowed down with age, but a single box of cookies shouldn’t be able to do this kind of damage that quickly.

He decided to cut back. He printed out a diet online, prepped some meals, and vowed to get herself back in shape. When he walked into work, he pushed the new box of cookies aside and left the container of vegetable sticks in their places. But as the day wore on, his stomach began to growl. It was used to having a lot more food to entertain itself during the doldrums of work. He turned around and saw the box of cookies still setting there, just as tantalizing as ever. For a whole half hour, he debated cheating, but the pangs in his stomach had already decided. Finally, Justin relented.

Just one cookie. Ugh, the first bite was intoxicating. It was the best thing he had all day.

Okay. Maybe two. The second was just as good as the first. It’s probably better to just move the box over so he didn’t get distracted from his work. Fifteen minutes later, the box was empty, and Justin was ready to abandon his diet altogether. Life was too short to deprive himself of the little pleasures.

Justin was faithful to his cookies after that. He ate them every day they showed up. They had him in a vice grip. He didn’t care if it made him a little round. If the price was moving the seat back in his car a few inches, that was worth it. If it was getting a seatbelt extension when he flew on planes, that was worth it. If the price was twenty, fifty, eighty pounds padding out his ass and giving him a nice round gut, then he was willing to pay it so he could enjoy his secret treat.

On the one-year anniversary, Justin got birthday cake cookies. At almost double the weight he was on the day he got the first box, he truly felt like he had earned his box of cookies by the time he saw them each morning. He had survived the walk from his car which seemed to grow longer every day and had without a doubt turned into a waddle where he fought to minimize how much his thighs rubbed together. Even though the chair protested every time he sat down in the chair, well at least he enjoyed his cookies.

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 2- Masquerade Ball

“You know the point of a masquerade ball is so no one knows who you are.”

I shoot the man a dirty look. I couldn’t identify the voice, but I knew I didn’t really want to be lectured by anyone at the moment. They left the buffet table open for seconds and I was absolutely going to enjoy this plate until my heart’s content. “I’m sorry you can’t switch me out for the other fat dudes pretending like their half a salad satisfied them.”

“Well, I’d take you over one of those guys any day.” It was a shameless come-on. I let it slide because chasers like him are the only one who give me compliments lately. Most guys would flock to my friends who look dashing in their suits, not the dude shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

I considered this night a waste about twenty minutes into the ball. We were invited by friends of friends who had only ever seen me knocking back beers at the bar. I was not the kind of guy who was ever in a lot of places with chandeliers and a wait staff in button downs. Everyone in the room outclassed me, having conversations about things that I had only ever heard about flipping past public radio. It didn’t help that I was also one of the biggest people in the room, while the rest of them looked like models on the red carpet.

I haven’t worn this suit in three years since my older brother got married. And it looks like it. The sides of the suit jacket won’t even approach each other with my gut in the way. The fabric of the shirt was pulled so tight there were gaps in between each of the buttons where you could see my undershirt underneath trying to maintain my dignity. My suit pants were so tight around my thighs that I had to put my phone and wallet in my jacket because they wouldn’t fit in my pockets. My pants also weren’t really buttoned; they were being held together by a rubber band that you couldn’t really see under my overhang. The whole outfit had a lifespan that could be measured in seconds, and it had to make it to the end of the night.

I picked up a drink off a tray from a waiter that had a tip glass. I fished out a couple dollars from water, but they slipped out of my fingers and landed on the ground. He looked at the ground and then at me. I looked at the ground and then back at him. He obviously couldn’t bend down with a tray, but if I tried to bend to the ground in these pants, they were not going to leave the ballroom in one piece. I took a few more bills out of my wallet and left those on the ground. That’s the price of dignity, I guess.

I took my drink and scrambled to find my seat. With a sigh of relief that no one else would see me tonight, I blew off two buttons right at the widest part of my stomach. I looked around trying to find the missing buttons and heard squeaking sounds come from under me. I lifted the covers on the chairs and saw that this fancy establishment skimped out and got the “cutesy” wooden ones that did not traditionally like bulks like mine. I needed a game plan. I leaned back in the chair and hear the squeaks get loud before it gave way underneath me.

In a moment the attention of the room was focused on me. My friends came rushing over asking me if I was okay and trying to find a new and better chair. All I could think about was how I was officially the elephant in the room- but everyone would talk about it instead. After that kind of embarrassment, I no longer cared about how I came off to people. I was going to enjoy myself.

Which is why I was three plates into this meal, trying to forget the misery I endured. I wanted the masked man to go away, but he refused. He pulls me up out of my special metal chair they pulled from a nearby office.  He brushes the crumbs off of my clothes, and I notice how his had moves slower as it moves over the softest and widest parts of my body. He pulls the fabric from between my folds and underneath my moobs and smooths out the shirt. He tucks the flaps at the bottom back into my pants. The masked man pulls at the ends of my pants. He foolishly pushes the string out of his way to do the button. He pulls and pulls with all of his strength and tries to keep my overhang from getting in the middle. We’re close enough that I can feel him get hard trying to mess with my fat. He yanks one more time and the seam at the back of my pants rips loudly enough that a few people look over. It went from my ass and down my thigh and I was certain you could see the cellulite dimples through the hole.

“Time for you to earn your stripes little chaser,” I say with a sly smile.

[cellu-lightreading]

Kinktober Day 1- Farmer’s Market

They say you can find all kinds of interesting things when you visit the Farmer’s Market. I mean they say that, but the kinds of interesting finds they’re usually talking about its like artisanal soap made from goat milk or zucchini blooms. When I say “interesting” this time, I really do mean it.

I was walking down the aisles when I see a giant pink sticker with a pig face that said, “Pig Feed for Growing Boys”. It’s on the front of a small sack to the side.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I asked the farmer when he finished with the customer in front of me, “What is this stuff?”

He freezes. “Um, well, you see- it's a special concoction I use on the farm. I have a few specialty customers that I see when I come into town who really love the stuff.”

“But what does it do?”

“It’s a- It's... for... accelerating growth.”

The poor farmer was saved by my boyfriend Chase who came up to me sweating and panting. “Babe, I don’t know how you keep that jacket on; it’s so hot outside.” It was actually chilly outside, but Chase wouldn’t know. Chase walked around covered in over two hundred pounds of insulation every moment of the day, most of it compounded into a gut that would’ve kept last season’s coats from zipping up in the first place. If that wasn’t enough, having to walk around for a while always leaves him struggling. “Anyway, I saw that the apple cider donuts are back in stock for the first time this season and so I bought a dozen- which I ate. I also got an extra one for you and ate it on the way over here.”

“It’s okay; it’s the thought that counts. Did you get enough, though?” I asked him.

“I could’ve had a few more.” Chase said.

“Then go eat another dozen and I’ll meet you over there.” I turned back to the farmer and said, “I know a thing or two about growing boys myself. He's still got a long way to go before he’s done.”

“Oh, you can probably get really good use out of this stuff. He’ll pack on the pounds almost overnight. Plus, it’s pretty tasty; he’ll devour anything you sprinkle it on. The boy will turn into a pig before your very eyes.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

“No, the results speak for themselves. I’ve used it on exes, my husband, even a few of my farm hands.”

“Farm hands? Don’t they need to stay nice and strong so they can work for you?”

“Maybe, but- look at these from the start of the summer.” The farmer showed me pictures of these sweaty scraggly guys loading stuff into crates. “Sure, I need guys who can do all that hard work, but if I do a good enough job, I can afford to keep some eye candy on the farm doing some less demanding things.”

“Well how thick is the eye candy now?” I asked.

The farmer motioned for me to come closer. He pulled back the curtain of his stall and there were three absolute porkers chowing down with piles of takeout containers scattered around. The straps of their overalls couldn’t button because of the giant guts that had become the new focal points of their bodies. Their love handles spilled out of the sides. Their once bony faces were now round with double chins that eclipsed their necks. The group had gone from flat asses to backsides wide enough to require the assistance of a second chair. The extra support didn’t inspire anymore confidence that the flimsy plastic was going to hold them up the whole day. These pigs were quadruple the size of the people in those pictures.

I told him, “I’ll take two bags right now. And you said you’ll be back next week, right?”

[cellu-lightreading]

I'm late, but this could be fun! Some of these will almost definitely be clips of story ideas I haven't written. If you like something you see, let me know. If you don't like these, at least you know that these will be over in November and we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming.

Fatguarddog's Feedist Kinktober 2024

Back again for another year! A creative feedist community project for everyone and anyone to take part in, here’s 31 days of 62 prompts, meaning you can do one, both or something that combines the two for each day!

Art, writing, photos, audios, feel free to express each prompt as you’d like to in relation to feedism, belly kink, indulgence, inflation and more! Please tag with '#feedist kinktober' and/or '#feedist kinktober 2024' so that everyone can share and see all our community’s creativity!

Transformation 🔀 / Farmer's Market 🌽

Latex Love 🖤 / Masquerade Ball 💃

Date Night 🍾 / Creepy Cookies 🍪

Leashed 🔗 / Hologram ✨

Cannibal Campers 🥩 / Tea Party 🫖

Ocean's Delight 🌊 / Possession 👻

Magic Mirror 🪞 / Donut Devotee 🍩

Ren Faire 👑 / Plugged In 🔌

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖

Full Moon 🌕 / Containment Breach ☢️

Theatrical 🎭 / Power Play 🔃

Candy Crush 🍬 / Eldritch Nightmares 👁️

GoTHICC 🥀 / Stitched Together 🪡

Pumpkin Spice 🎃 / Alien Abduction 🛸

Slasher 🔪 / Guardian Angel 😇

Runway Ready 👠 / Crystal Ball 🔮

Gaining Gamer 🎮 / Dungeon 🏰

Cult 🧑‍🤝‍🧑 / Artist's Muse 🎨

Invasive Vines 🌿 / Sweet Shop 🍭

Haunted House 🏚️ / Supersized Stoner 🍁

Chained Up ⛓️ / Silky Soft 💕

Exposed 😳 / Bewitching 🧙‍♀️

Bonfire Bash 🔥 / Rotten Core 🪱

Ritual 🫀 / Wardrobe Woes 👕

Olympian 🏛️ / Kaiju Attack! 🐙

Satanic Panic 😈 / Ice Cream Dream 🍦

Boozy Belly 🍺 / Dragon's Hoard 🐉

Plagued 🐀 / Movie Star 🎥

Spider's Web 🕸️ / Theme Park 🎡

Bulging Bimbo 💝 / Ancient Spirit 🪦

Monster Mash 💀 / Black Mail 💌

Don’t let my emojis sway your thoughts, they’re just there for visual interest! Please reblog to spread to more people, can’t wait to see what you all come up with ❤️