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[chubbology]

The way you write obliviousness to weight gain, weight gain denial, embarrassment, and light humiliation is so wonderfully perfect. Its exactly the kind of soft, causal, just-snuck-up-on-you weight gain stories that I love to read and are so hard to find. Your characters are all well developed as well. I'm in awe of your talent.

:,) you put so many words I like in one concise paragraph

ty so much

[chubbology]

Taste Tester

prompt: as you practice baking for a competition, your wife gains weight as a taste tester

Abby jumps into your arms, telling you over and over Congratulations! You laugh and twirl her around in the kitchen; it’s easy when she’s so small and light.

You’re in. In the baking competition. The baking competition. “You’ll be on TV!” Abby says as if meaning, You’ll be knighted by the Queen!

All you can think about is this chance: to show off your skills, get your name out there, who knows what else; it’s your big break. Your chance to bake for an audience, a panel of judges no less - you like some competition.

You only have a few months before the flight out, but that’s more than enough time to polish your abilities and master your recipes.

“To be honest,” you say, “I’m most excited to have an excuse to bake things for you.”

“Oh!” Abby slams her hands down on your shoulders. It doesn’t hurt too much. “Oh please do those macaroons. And those chocolate eclairs again. It’s been ages. They were so good…” Abby dramatically closes her eyes, reminiscing.

“Of course.” You cup her kind face in both your hands. “You’ll be my taste tester, right? You have to be picky. My desserts can’t just be amazing to win. They have to be professionally incredible!”

Abby nodded once. “I’ll hold you to my highest standard.”

~

Her highest standard is pretty much just: sugary. She enthusiastically declares to love everything you make, great or just okay, but you don’t mind. She takes her job of taste tester seriously, and within a couple weeks, she’s practically bothering on the hour to make those cookies again, more of this spongy cake, that one thing, but make it pink? Pretty please?

Despite the show’s demand for variety, you can’t help but prioritize Abby’s preferences and whims. She likes soft and chewy things, and caloric, decadent things, and so you keep making them in a frenzy of productivity. Cakes and more cakes, and - really, it impresses you how much of it she eats. Not just bites. Finishing whole dishes off.

You keep waiting for her to get sick of it, sick of the sugar, but if anything, she starts to eat a bit…compulsively. She starts eating late into the night. Starts eating sweets early in the morning.

She starts to get softer.

Plumper. Chubby.

Her hips round and thicken, her thighs swell, her jaw loses its edge. You find yourself enraptured by these changes. Her breasts get bigger. Her chin gently doubles when she looks down.

Sometimes you forget who and what you’re supposed to be baking for.

You add too much cream and custard as pastry fillings because you want to hear her moan a little longer into those gushing bites. You add a little too much sugar because her belly is cute and pudgy and peeking out of her clothes and you’re hopelessly in love with it. With her. Why shouldn’t that belly get just a little bigger?

Weeks pass of your increasingly hard work and her increasingly hearty eating (now at regular meals too, not just with your desserts). Her weight gain picks up, gaining momentum, making her heavier. Wider. A tad bit slower. Your attention feels split in half between one-minded focus on making winning dishes and all-consuming infatuation with Abby’s oblivious yet unhesitating march toward…fat.

~

Instead of falling asleep to fantasies of winning the competition, starting your own bakery, and living in an idyllic future, you fall asleep to the comfort of holding your overweight wife.

~

A week before you’re off on the flight to the show’s set, you host a tasting party, making all your best pastries and cakes and baked dishes. It starts off excellently: No one invited flakes (and neither do your dishes), your house is bustling with energy and cheer and congratulations and good lucks, and Abby is being more endearing than usual, not so much tasting the different offerings as she was mechanically eating full meals-worth of food every moment she wasn’t talking with friends.

You try to be discreet about sneaking looks at her fairly enormous bubble butt, currently hugged very tightly in jeans that didn’t fit her anymore.

She keeps eating and eating, clearly oblivious to how much more she was consuming compared to everyone else.

A couple hours into the party, Abby lets out a jolly laugh at something someone says, and you look over as her pink-nailed plump hands cover her mouth to hide how full it was of macaroons.

You witness it happen: the gust of her laugh finally straining her waistband past it’s limit; her jeans button popping off, landing with a tap on the tile floor a few feet away. At the same moment, ample lower belly surging through waistband flaps, its weight enough to force open the zipper to its base.

For a very long half second, you, Anna, and your mutual friends all stare at the hefty, fat belly cradled in her opened jeans. Then Anna sucks it in and flees, all high-pitched apologies and self-depreciations.

You follow, of course, opening your bedroom door to find Abby frantically changing into different jeans - presumably the first pair she got her hands on, because they aren’t well chosen. She struggles to get them up past her bulky thighs.

You let out a small sigh (trying not to get distracted by her artful cellulite). “Abby…”

“Nothing fits anymore.”

“Abby,” you try again.

She flings the jeans away and stomps to the closet, making many parts of her body wobble and jiggle on the way. She comes back out in a pair of leggings. Whether she was shamefaced because resorting to stretchy leggings would make it crystal clear to everyone at the party what her wardrobe situation was, or because the leggings weren’t actually stretchy enough, giving her a four inches or so of pure, fatty muffin top overhang on both her sides...you don’t know. You’re more concerned that Abby’s eyes are glassy.

“I’ve gained a lot of weight,” she breathes out, rubbing one temple. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged it.

You want to hold her pudgy hands and tell her: Honey, you’ve ballooned. Forty or fifty pounds at least. Instead, you say, “You look amazing. You just need properly sized clothes that fit you.”

She looks up at you, too innocent. You realize with a flash of insight that her body is finally as soft as her heart. “You don’t hate it?” she asks.

“The opposite. I love how I can see how much I love you, and how much you’re being loved.”

You mean every word, and it’s clear Abby knows you do. She’s not so self-conscious that she doesn’t pull you into one of her classic, crushing hugs. “You’re a good baker,” she mumbles.

You laugh.

~

(You get third place at the baking competition, and couldn’t be more proud. But even that is nothing compared to coming home to your excited wife, who, while she was gone, learned to bake a little herself, gaining another thirteen pounds all on her own.)

---

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

And thank you for their amazing GIF!!!! They would prefer to stay anonymous.

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[chubbology]

Lucky Charms Cookies

[chubbology]

working from home be like this

[chubbology]

Are you the same person writing under that ao3 username? If so, I love both your original stories and fanfics!

I am indeed! Thank you!!! :D

[chubbology]

[chubbology]

Absolutely LOVE your stories. Your post today made my day. Just amazing. Thank you so much for sharing!!

:,) thank you for reading!

[chubbology]

A Heavy Burden

prompt: weight gain after an injury resurfaces memories of an overweight adolescence

Only two months of working from home, and Fin was sick of it. He should be grateful, sure, that his career in marketing made it easy to keep his job despite his ankle injury, but being in his apartment’s dingy little office from morning to night, no coworkers to talk shit with, no pretty high-rise view, no free snacks…

Fin finished off another package of Oreos as he logged off for the day. Okay, so he still had snacks, and it was his boyfriend paying for them, but still. His computer screen went black, and Fin found himself staring at his dim, glossy reflection. The skin around his eyes looked strained and his face had a slight puffiness to it. He reached for another Oreo on instinct - of course finding only crumbs - and felt a prick of shame. Was he really developing a mindless eating habit already? He should have told Henry no to the Oreos. And no to the donut sticks. And no to the pizza bites and the Poptarts. What kind of self control did Henry think he had?

Using his three good limbs, he maneuvered himself up from his office chair and onto his crutches. They were a pain to use, but not nearly as much of a pain as putting an ounce of weight on his bad ankle. He’d had two surgeries back-to-back after shattering it, and his doctor was optimistically estimating twelve to fourteen months before a complete recovery.

He left the room, not intending to go to the kitchen, but that's where he found himself, taste buds jonesing for more sugar. To ease the craving, he allowed himself a couple swiss rolls. Not ideal before dinner, but what did it matter? Henry could only complain about ruined appetites if Fin conspicuously picked at his food, so Fin would just have to eat heartily at dinner despite now also fixing himself a thickly spread peanut butter sandwich on white bread. His taste buds sung in pleasure, and as he ate, Fin’s gaze roamed over the other goodies. What else? What else? His mind wouldn’t give him a break. Fin couldn’t blame it, though, not when Henry had gone all out with comfort food, pitying the double whammy of being injured and still having to work. The pantry had a rainbow of overly processed treats.

Sandwich gone, Fin blew out a long breath and told himself to sit on the couch, lay down in bed, read a book, check social media, do anything other than hesitantly fondle the bag of jumbo marshmallows on one of the shelves.

He wanted to open the bag. Indulge a little more. He wanted to so badly that Fin forced himself to take a good look down at his body in an attempt to curb the feeling. He cupped the bottom of the belly he’d developed over the last two months - hell if it wasn’t as soft as the marshmallows. He had love handles now, too. The green polo he was wearing, once his loosest and most comfortable, clung to his curves in a way that made Fin close his eyes in defeat. He wasn’t just a pound or three heavier; he was actively gaining weight.

Those two words made Fin go pink in the face with frustration and embarrassment.

Some guys stayed so thin without trying, but not him! All his life, weight gain had plagued him. Mortifying family photos were burned into his brain, sequencing how he’d ballooned from a normal toddler into an ever fatter child, incurably greedy despite his parents' attempts to keep his diet under control. When bullying kicked in as a tween, he took the internet’s advice, stopped drinking soda, and lost weight. But then, puberty. It seemed in middle school like every bite of ice cream made him gain five pounds. He hated having to buy fat boy pants with his mom and tug down big shirts that clung to his tubby breasts.

Eating less and skateboarding more seemed to do nothing for his shape, and in the summer after seventh grade he gained so much weight (he had a bad crush on a boy), he’d been genuinely terrified his butt wouldn’t fit in the seats at school. It did, though it hung off the edges a bit, but the stress made him resolve all through eighth grade and the summer afterward to lose the weight permanently.

By high school, he was only chubby, which he decided he could live with. Then in college, he worked out more and became more beefy than chubby, which was even better. He had a couple boyfriends here and there who made him try even harder to cut the fat, and sometimes he was successful - unlike the relationships. A couple years after graduating, he met Henry, who liked to cook and take care of him and buy a crap load of junk food when he wasn’t feeling great. Who liked when Fin did things for himself (demanded he do things for himself).

Who probably could see plain as day that his boyfriend was chubbing out. But Fin didn’t mention it, and neither did Henry.

A week passed. Fin tried to eat normally at meals and cut down on the snacks, but his mind rebelled, as if not having chocolate-covered pretzels while editing a commercial clip was some unbearable deprivation. Fin thought that having an injury would hinder him from getting up and going to the kitchen to graze, but if anything, having an injury meant he lingered longer there, taking more than he needed so he wouldn’t have to make a second and third trip when his cravings started acting up again.

His efforts to cut down routinely failed, and his workload routinely increased, and he shoved the awareness that he was gaining weight to the back of his mind like a normal, overwhelmed adult.

The next month came and went. Several did. Fin kept finding more junk food in the pantry, and he consumed it all, almost like it was his duty. He couldn’t find it in himself to tell Henry to stop buying so much. And everyday it got more difficult not to take seconds of Henry’s decadent dinners, then eat dessert for three after.

His body couldn’t get enough. Fin tingled head to foot to fingertip in anticipation of eating, even as his ass grew engorged and heavy, spilling off his office chair. He craved to overeat even as his hips squeezed the armrests, and his belly and thighs jiggled like crazy when he used his crutches.

One evening, Henry was brushing his teeth and Fin was patting his face dry when reality hit: his double chin, which used to only poke out sometimes, didn’t go away anymore. His cheeks were full and bulbous compared to Henry’s. His jaw didn’t really show…at all. Fin stared at his body, swollen with fat into a wide pear shape, pajama shirt not quite covering the lowest inch of his belly. His forearms and upper arms too were big and pillowy with excess fat, muscle completely hidden. Fin swallowed.

“Really let myself go, huh,” he muttered.

Henry spit into the sink. “Don’t even start. You’re hot.”

“Right.” Fin shook his head at his reflection. Luckily, he didn’t feel afraid of becoming so fat, like he had as a kid. Now, he just felt like it was his fate.

But damn. He looked like he couldn’t go five minutes without shoving a Twinkie in his mouth - which wasn’t even far off the mark anymore! He was eating at least eight or nine sweet things a day, not including the binges that were happening a couple times a week now, usually around three in the morning.

Henry’s expression became serious. He met Fin’s eyes through the mirror. “You’re as beautiful as you’ve always been. That’s a fact to me. A subjective fact, but not one you have any right to argue with.”

Fin smirked at Henry’s haughty tone. “Okay, okay.”

Henry wasn’t satisfied, though. He stepped up to Fin and slotted his hands against the narrowest point of his waist (which wasn’t narrow at all), just above where Fin’s gut really expanded out to full blubbery glory. Henry smoothed his hands downwards, as if trying to caress the expansion. “You’ve gotten big,” Henry said quietly. “You’ve been so good.”

Fin hardly dared to breathe. “Good?”

“Eating your fill. Letting yourself indulge.” Henry pressed his fingers into Fin’s weight. Could he tell that Fin had crossed the line into obesity? At the very least, it was clear Fin was losing control. “You haven’t talked about it much, but I remember you saying that all through school you put a lot of effort into keeping your weight down. You don’t have to anymore; you know that right?”

“I…”

“I loved how you got a little overweight a few months into dating.”

Fin went beet red. He’d been sure to diet as soon as he noticed. “Because I really liked you, and it made me nervous.”

Henry laughed and kissed him. Then again, and again. He groped Fin’s ass. “If you still really like me, you’ll keep eating as much as you want, and you’ll tell me what you actually want for dinner instead of what you think you should want.”

Fin let out a wistful breath. That sounded amazing. “I’ll get way too fat. Way, way too fat.”

Henry hummed a pleased sound next to his ear. “Promise?”

Fin could imagine himself gaining all the weight he’d tried not to growing up, becoming as big and heavy as his body desperately wanted. Gorging himself everyday, perpetually overfed, loved and enabled by his thin boyfriend. Even struggling to walk a bit even after his ankle fully healed because his legs weren’t used to carrying so much fat without crutches.

Fin’s mouth started to water as he imagined Henry feeding him in bed. “I’m hungry,” he blurted.

Henry patted his love handle, making it quiver. “Good boy.”

---

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[chubbology]

snacking

[chubbology]

[chubbology]

Just wanna say I'm v happy you write non binary weight gain fiction. It makes me and my relationship feel so welcome and validated. <3

:D

[chubbology]

(source)

[chubbology]

The Right Path

prompt: just wholesome and sweet wg

Jay knew he wasn’t the most remarkable guy. He’d never gotten the best grades in school; he’d never been great at sports. His hobbies were humble things like reading science fiction and playing fantasy games and going on walks late at night.

Moving back to his hometown after his college graduation, he struggled to find work. He ended up doing sedentary graveyard shifts that allowed him to eat on the job, and as a result, he gained almost forty pounds, becoming chubby for the first time in his life. It bothered him, getting too thick for his clothes. Working at a job he didn’t like. Being alone most of the time.

He felt sorry for himself, but he didn’t complain to his friends online; he just hoped, as he ate fast food on the way home again, that things would get better soon.

Of all places, he met them at a bookstore. Their name was Devon, and they dressed androgynous and plain, although their personality was like sunshine. Jay, an unconfessed romantic, just smiled wistfully as Devon told him a dozen reasons why the book Jay just picked up was the best he’d read in years. Devon, while not especially short, was lithe and cute, and - it was too nerve-wracking for Jay to ask for their number, even if only to keep in contact with a potential new friend. Instead, he thanked Devon and bought the book and got a milkshake on the way back, damning himself for being such a coward.

Later at home, he snacked on too many chips, then made himself a microwave mac and cheese dinner. He unbuttoned and unzipped his painfully tight jeans as he ate; he would have changed clothes first, but sometimes the anticipation of eating overwhelmed all thoughts in his mind. Including thoughts about Devon, thankfully. Forgetting he’d had a milkshake already, Jay found a bag of Halloween candy in the back of his pantry and started to work his way through it, right there in the kitchen. He ate chocolate after caramel chocolate with a one-track mind: to eat away his thoughts. It mostly worked, although sometimes he had to eat two or three at once. His shirt rode up a little, and he touched his distended belly. Even when the bag was empty, he craved more. His hands itched to eat. His tongue yearned to taste. Even with his button and fly undone, his jeans squeezed him.

The next time Jay saw Devon at the bookstore, he was another thirty pounds heavier. His hips and belly spilled over his waistband, stretching his t-shirt. His thighs naturally pressed together and his butt protruded quite a bit. He felt as overweight as he looked - even more so upon seeing that Devon looked as thin as ever.

Yet, despite Jay’s insecurities, Devon was the one who seemed shy as they talked, discussing books, then games. They migrated to the sitting area of the bookstore and Jay had to tug down his shirt a few times. His butt didn’t really fit in the narrow armchair, and his thighs warmed up quickly with his belly resting atop them. Jay worried that his moobs - which had grown particularly chubby in the last couple weeks - might be off-putting, but Devon kept talking with him like there was nothing more he wanted to do.

Even though Jay had already made up his mind to ask for Devon’s number this time, it was Devon who asked. So Jay, flustered as he was, gave it to him and tried his luck by asking them if they wanted to get something to eat. Devon agreed. Even better, Devon didn’t pick some health-food place, but claimed to be as ravenous as him. So they ordered two pizzas for delivery back at Jay’s apartment.

Jay nervously ate his whole pizza that night, then most of Devon’s - but only because Devon insisted. When Jay made one little self-deprecating comment about always eating too much, Devon said nonchalantly, “I say go for it. People should eat as much as they want. In my opinion, it’s not a bad thing to gain weight.”

Jay was so stunned he couldn’t even reply. They enjoyed the rest of the evening, talking and gaming and, in Jay’s case, snacking again later. Jay suspected this was the beginning of something.

They hung out more. And more. Soon they had their first kiss and started going out officially. As Jay got comfortable with having Devon around, he got comfortable with eating more often around him, too. As a result, Devon got comfortable with offering him food, bringing him food, encouraging him to eat more, to eat again - sometimes even talking Jay into eating when he wasn’t hungry. Jay wasn’t oblivious to what it all meant about Devon’s preferences, but he didn’t have the guts to confront them about it. Plus, he was happy to not hold back, and his cravings for sweets and snacks had only become more intense.

Jay never denied Devon anything, and so he outgrew his clothes again.

This time, though, Jay found he didn’t mind. Devon praised his body constantly, and only encouraged his hearty diet. Eventually the two of them did have a conversation about Devon enjoying feeding him, and of Jay enjoying being fed, and Jay got bigger from multiple stuffings throughout the weeks, he got happier, too. Even when he eventually got so heavy that waddling and panting became a way of life, he was no less happy: he and Devon laughed at diet commercials, learned to bake together, had sex after Jay got stuck in the closet doorway. In a deep, visceral way, the two of them revered the experience of Jay letting himself go completely.

For the first time in a long time, Jay felt truly accepted and loved, and as the months and years passed, he found a better job and left his old one. He didn’t ignore his family and online friends so much. He stopped with the sad internal monologues about the trajectory of his life and started telling himself that he was on the right path. Because he was. Regardless of any high weight or low income, if he was supported, and supported himself: he would do well in his life.

“Wow,” Devon said one Saturday morning, as Jay put away his fourth stack of pancakes. “You’re amazing.”

They were enjoying a big breakfast and the warm, springtime weather out on the patio of their new apartment. They’d both gained significant weight over the winter, but while Devon was only just entering chubby territory, Jay had to spread his legs to allow his belly to hang between them. His second chin sat out fat and permanent. Jay felt like a new person. Someone who didn’t try so hard to conform. Someone he honestly liked.

“I know,” Jay shrugged, smiling as he took another bite.

---

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[chubbology]

Do you take writing commissions at all? Your work is really well done!

Thank you! You know, I’ve been considering commissions for a while, but I was too nervous to actually put up any kind of shop. Now that you’ve asked though...I’m doing it! I’m not gonna think too hard about it! It’s up! Someone commission me, mostly so I can have a monetary excuse to spend more time being horny. 

https://www.etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[chubbology]

Oh No… He’s cute…

[chubbology]

rapid weight gain animation for your consideration