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fatasmagoria · 1 year

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Author’s Note: I have 202 followers now which is frankly insane. I decided to write a little something to celebrate with you all! This idea has most likely been done before, but I wanted to put my own spin on it.

The Five Stages of Fatness

Denial

You sit on the edge of your bed, frustrated as you attempt to pull the flaps of your jeans together. They are separated by a generous handful of pudge that pooches out from your otherwise toned midsection. Lousy fast fashion. It must have shrunken in the wash already. Or maybe it was water weight. Or bloating from the fast food order you just inhaled? You scoop up the jeans and throw them over to the corner in a heap.

You grunt as you stand up, the heaviness of your body subtly weighing you down. You retrieve a stretchy pair of joggers from your wardrobe that slide up your thickened thighs and bubble butt with ease, although the waistband can’t stretch any further. But you don’t notice that. You’re already thinking about dessert, and the cinnamon rolls baking downstairs, the dough rising just like the numbers on the scale.

Anger

You slam the door shut behind you, rage barely contained. You were on a date with a cute guy, but he ditched you halfway through because you were catfishing him, or so he claimed. Your pictures didn’t match up to what was in front of him, of course. He was expecting a skinny person, but he was instead given a chubby piglet. You strip your tight clothes from your wider body. Your belly is laden with stretch marks and it has started to split into two rolls, with your tits sagging on top. Your thighs cover your genitals now, and your out of breath just from standing there.

You squeeze yourself into pyjamas and let your anger consume you as you, in turn, consume all the junk food in your kitchen. By the end of it, your body is screaming in pain, and when you slap your belly, it causes you to belch. But you’re too angry to really care. You spend the rest of the night feasting and burping, and you delete that stupid dating app too.

Bargaining

The scale read “300”, causing you to blush. Had you really gotten that big? You stare at yourself in the mirror and grab a handful of jiggling flesh. You look more rotund than human, and your face is red simply from the exertion of standing there. Your gut is hitting mid thigh. You know you have to get on a diet, and get a gym membership too. You tell yourself you’ll start tomorrow, and spend the entire day feasting to “get rid” of the snacks in your house. You even order pizza as your last meal before salads and smoothies became your food source. You’d go out for a run tomorrow, eat well tomorrow, lose weight tomorrow…

Tomorrow came all too soon. You wake up feeling sluggish from yesterday’s binge. You can’t even roll yourself out of bed. You tell yourself that the diet will start on Monday instead, given that it’s the start of the week. But Monday ends up being just as fattening. You eventually forget about your diet plans altogether.

Depression

You were let go from your job for breaking company property. You had sat down at your desk, only to have the armrests fly off and seat splinter as your saggy ass hit the floor. You were a liability to the company. You were simply too fat.

Tears and sobs force their way out of you as you collapse onto your sofa, bags upon bags of fast food surrounding you, giving you a small modicum of comfort. Food wasn’t the enemy, it was your friend. At least you’d get a generous payout after losing your job. At a whopping 450 pounds, your body took up most of the couch. You looked like a pile of flab. Your face, which had once been pretty and inviting, was swallowed up by a double chin that was quickly turning into a triple. You turn on some trash TV and let your brain turn to mush. Food was your friend. And now there was no reason to be separated from it.

You wipe your tears with a meaty forearm as you bite into a burger.

Acceptance

Corrupted by gluttony, your daily routine revolves around food and mind-numbing entertainment. Yesterday was a milestone; you’d hit 500 pounds and your feeder (a handsome man who loved to wait on you) celebrated by gifting you an entire wedding cake. You sit on the bed dumbly, licking frosting from your fingers. The skinnier version of yourself struggling to get their jeans pulled up may have screamed, but you knew that eating and growing was a perfect life. No need to worry about clothes or dating or work. You lived to consume.

Your whole body almost swallowed up your bed. You were likely still mobile, but there was no reason for you to walk when your feeder insisted on providing all your meals. Your whole body was cellulitic, covered in dimples as well as stretch marks. Your runny cheeks jiggled as your forced more cake into your mouth. Your tank of a belly growled with hunger, and your feeder set down another tray of cinnamon rolls on the bedside table, giving your heavy fat a good slap.

This was your life, and you couldn’t be happier.

#fatty #feedisn #female wg #wg teasing #male wg #mutual wg #wg text #nonbinary wg #fat belly #ssbbw feedee #wg stuff #make me fatter

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omgugotfat · 8 days

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Fatty on a nature walk up steep stairs. Hope I don't lose any weight getting out of breath.

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extra-stout-stories · 4 months

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Special Delivery

As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!

He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.

The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.

This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.

Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.

That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.

He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."

"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."

There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.

It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.

He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.

The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.

As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."

The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."

Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."

"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.

"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.

"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.

"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."

"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."

He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."

The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."

As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.

He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.

But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.

Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.

One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."

"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.

"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."

And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.

It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.

As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."

"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.

"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.

"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?

The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."

They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."

He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.

It was a look of love.

And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.

His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.

And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.

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

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indulgentjax · 3 months

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You're really not that small anymore. You used to be, but clearly my eating habits have rubbed off on you. When you walk in the room, you look sturdy and soft at the same time - to me, you've never looked better. But somehow when you're under me, you still look absolutely tiny. Probably because I'm three times your size now. Where your belly is small and barely hanging yet, mine cascades out from my body in waves ending in a low hang. Where your thighs are strong with a bit of tone, mine are overflowing with fat, starting to form rolls of their own.

As I begin to straddle you and struggle to heft myself on top, it becomes clear just how much bigger I've gotten. My thick thighs practically engulf your hips as I adjust all of my bulk in just the right way, to make sure you can really feel it. I feel so powerful here.

It used to be that my belly would hardly graze yours when I was up here. Now? It hangs and weighs heavily and reaches all the way out to your chest. I watch it fall and drape over your chest on either side, engulfing you. I wonder how it feels to be you, underneath all this heavy softness that you helped create. You know that with each pound you gain, you're inching closer to having a body like mine, and the thought turns you on. The fatter I get, the more powerful I become, and the more I help you to do the same.

You reach for the box of donuts on the bedside table with one hand and poke a finger deep into my belly with the other. "Did you work up an appetite after working so hard to get on top of me?" I nod sheepishly in response. You know how much deeper your finger has started to sink over these past several months, how each bite you've watched me take has slowly added to create this enormous belly. And you want to see it grow even more so your finger can sink even further to all that soft, squishy fat.

You lift the first soft, perfectly glazed donut to my lips, and I take a bite. Delicious. I see it on your face, you love watching me enjoy every bite. Savoring at first, and then eating faster and faster, unable to stop myself from what tastes so good. As I eat, crumbs and bits of glaze fall down onto my belly and onto your chest - a complete picture of true gluttony. I catch a bit of glaze with my finger, bring it to your lips, and let you have a taste. You smile as the sweetness hits your tongue, and you can't wait for me to crack open the second box. That one is all yours.

#feeding kink #feedee encouragement #feedee belly #wg writing #wg text #mutual gaining #gaining weight on purpose

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