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Abuse

I love abusing you. Watching your pleading eyes look up at me when I push more delicious treats passed your plump lips. The arousal that wakens inside of you from being full. Watching your taught stomach gradually bulge with more fat drives my need to feed you even more. You moan from overeating to the point of nearly bursting. Your intestines are so packed full of food from a constant state of indulgence that it hurts to move. You ache to be empty again but I won’t let that happen. Abusing your body gives me such a sense of pleasure. Seeing the difference from pictures taken every week. Seeing you give into my coercions and watching it affect your once delicate body. My sinful persuasions fattening you up. I always blame you for getting so fat, fully knowing its all my fault. I’m uncertain to where you want me to really stop, but I probably won’t anyway. Watching you glut yourself heavier and heavier keeps me in a almost an animal like state. Always craving to see you grow bigger. To watch your body spread out. Smacking and pinching every inch of flab that hangs off of your body makes you blush and squirm with embarassment. Such a fat pig. You always complain about having to climb stairs and growing out of breath quickly. Thats what happens when your body gets heavier. Moving starts to become difficult. Especially when you’re pushing four hundred pounds. Your doughy belly being the center of gravity makes it hard not to waddle. Your ass is also swollen thick with lumpy cellulite. When I watch you slowly waddle away from me its just so tempting to bend you over and violate you between those two gargantuan globes of wobbling fat. I love squeezing and jiggling them with your panties being sucked between your colossal asscheeks. What I wouldn’t give to watch your ass grow so big that it gets stuck in doorways and chairs. Only in due time though. I’ll just keep feeding you and feeding you until my desires have been met. I dream of watching you struggle to even roll over. Listening to the sounds of your rolls slap each other when you attempt to be even slightly physically active. I want to see your once toned arms overflow with heavy sagging fat, making your arms useless and weighed down. Once you begin to practically give up on diets and exercising thats when I know I have won. My non stop feeding, enabling, and pushiness will destroy you. Your body will be so bloated and full from being constantly fed that you’ll never want to move. I’ll just continue treating you like a toy, a pet, an object so my selfish needs are met.

Your Growing Boyfriend

He groans quietly, and you turn to look at him. He’s shifting in his seat a little, struggling under his new heft, eyes glued to the television. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. You smile, arousal at the sight washing over you. He’s perfect.

It started with larger meals, a less intense gym routine, letting go and having a burger once in a while. It took time, but he was amenable to the changes eventually. Then meals turned never-ending, his gym shorts gathering dust, fast food on the menu daily. He eyed off his growing figure with suspicion and concern but your positive reinforcement kept him going despite his better judgement - the more he ate, the better the sex. He couldn’t struggle against that for long. As his stomach stretched and he became used to his new lifestyle, he even looked like he was enjoying himself a little.

And now here he is, past the point of no return. He reaches to his side and grabs a fistful of fries from the paper bag next to him, cramming them in his mouth, still staring at the TV. Grease smears the sides of his mouth, his round cheeks glistening with it. He stifles a burp and goes in for more.

You can’t help but think about how much he’s changed. He breathes heavily now, even when he’s standing still. To hear him gasp for air while putting on a pair of pants you’d think he’d run a marathon. He slid into being unfit and out of shape comically quickly, you’d never have guessed he’d been a gym junkie if you hadn’t seen it with your own two eyes. Now he avoids moving where he can, begging you to bring his meals to him on the couch. Even now, just sitting, you can hear him breathing heavily. You imagine him trying to do a sit up and frown. It’s impossible now with that belly in the way.

Ah, that belly. It sits on his lap, spilling out of his shirt. He stopped pulling his shirts down when they’d ride up on the couch long ago. It’s huge, weighing him down and getting in the way. You make sure it’s filled as often as possible, handing him fried chicken and decadent cakes and huge bottles of soda; food and drink to keep him bloated, satisfied, and compliant. At first he was embarrassed by his increasingly flabby gut, but now he lies back as you rub it for him after meals, pacified by his fullness, surrendered to his size. It takes him a few tries to get up off the couch when he does decide to move - his gut pinning him down and obstructing him. It spills over the waistband of his jeans, swinging back and forth wildly when he’s in a hurry. You love watching it shift from side to side, real life proof of how well you’re feeding him and how much he’s let himself go.

Watching him struggle shouldn’t be so much of a turn on for you, but you can’t help but love watching him try in vain to button jeans you only bought a week ago, or stop halfway through the long waddle to the bedroom to catch his breath. You dutifully tie his shoes for him and buckle his belt (it sits below his belly, only accentuating his huge weight gain - he can’t see it and soon won’t be able to reach it). He’s massive now, and it’s impossible to hide your excitement. You take him out to dinner in button-up shirts and order for him, waiting for the satisfaction of seeing a button fly off in public. Sometimes you’re granted other gifts instead: the fabric of the shirt tearing instead, or that time he got stuck in the booth. He takes it all in stride with a good natured chuckle, accepting of the fact that he’s a fat guy now. Well, he’s past fat. He passed pudgy, and chubby, and fat, and merely overweight a while ago… He’s obese now. Morbidly so. That’s what their doctor confirmed with shock and concern. His reward for sitting through that appointment was a stop at the buffet where he ate until he had to unbutton his jeans.

You smile at him again, your sedentary hog filling out the couch. As though he knows you’re watching, he gives his belly a little shake, jiggling the soft flab, and groans again. God, he drives you crazy. You know that when he finishes his meal he’ll doze off as he digests, the meal turning to pure lard beneath his skin, his body not having exercised in months. He’ll keep expanding through his routine of lazy overeating, fattening himself further and further, becoming heavier and heavier, huffing and puffing just between bites of food.

He slaps his gut and you’re stirred from your daydream. He’s finished his fries, time for his reward.

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My toy

You've been so good submitting to me. I'm proud to have earned your trust. You told me every little dirty secret you kept and expected me to deliver. Now I have.

Your body is totally ruined now. I'll just put that out there. Our special relationship has costed us both. But this is what we live for. For you to be my pet, and for me to be your master. You've given up so much but by your own will. You let me do whatever I wanted.

So I filled you. I filled you every single day. I still am. I watched your body shift, grow, and change. I made accomodations for your growing. I couldn't keep my hands off of you as you gave yourself to me. I caressed you while you feasted, making sure you were secure. With every pound you gained it was a celebration.

It turned you on so much. Me whispering for you to eat more. When I rubbed your swollen gut after long hours of stuffing. Reminding you of how amazing you are..you loved it. I know I was firm sometimes but I knew you enjoyed it. You wanted to be my pet. So I treated you like one.

When you got on your hands and knees for me I felt so strong yet so caring. Pushing your head into a bowl of various mixed cakes was invigorating. You were only three hundred and fifty pounds then. You stuffed your face so sloppily and quickly. I made you my own pet piggy and my goal was to grow you into an even bigger hog.

That was my favorite thing to do, do messy stuffing sessions. Watching you turn into a slob right before my eyes. Leaving you naked on the bed with food down your huge fat tits and gut. I'd let you set like that too.. Sticky and coated in grease and crumbs. I couldn't wait for your fat belly to pool onto the floor filling the space between your hands and knees.

You ate so much for me. Impossible amounts of calories. Your feeding tray would sit atop your round tummy after you hit four hundred and sixty pounds. That was cute and a bit convenient, and the tray only got bigger along with your gut.

The more you ate the slower you became. I lived for it. Your body weighed down by hours upon hours of gluttony. Your limbs swollen and puffy, jiggling with every slow lazy movement. I couldn't stop myself now, you needed to be so much bigger.

Your will became strong though for some reason. You wanted to slow your gaining down. Struggling to get dressed and even roll yourself out of bed struck fear into you. The looming reality that being incredibly obese has its downsides. I was ready to break your will. I craved the numbers on the scale to grow, along with your waistline.

So I seduced you. Again and again. Kissing and rubbing your vast frame. Feeding you and fucking you just for my own sick pleasure. I needed you bigger. Wobbling and lifting your huge belly while we cuddled made me squirm for more. Your plump thighs were beginning to turn into two thick rolls of fat. Warm and soft. Your weight was definitely getting out of control all thanks to me.

My only goal I had set for you was to be bound to my bed, only your weight pinning you down. Helpless to follow my every command. Not that I would be very demanding, just let me fuck you and feed you. Simple rules. But you were persistant. You huffed and puffed your way around. I watched you, red faced and out of breath reach the top of the stairs from my bedroom. It was only a matter of time before your wide fat filled ass would get stuck in the doorway.

Pushing you down into my bed was my favorite thing to do. You had no muscle mass and were so out of shape it was easy to dominate you. Your massive body falling back, I was certain you would break my bed. I loved to wrap my legs around you and hold you down to force food into you. Thick cream filled donuts and snack cakes...you could barely resist. I know it excited you anyways. I grew strong pushing and rolling you around and could take charge easily. This made forcefeeding you almost effortless the heavier you became.

Soon after you swelled up to seven hundred pounds you practically gave up on telling me no. Then my fun really began... I soon learned you loved to be picked on for being a fat slob. The words that would escape my mouth would make anyone else cry. But you just took it and wiggled with delight. "My god so you ever stop eating? You're a literal blob now! A lard encased blob of a person! If you get any bigger your knees are going to snap when you stand!" Your face would run red but a faint smile would spread between your plump cheeks. "I know you're too addicted to sugar to stop me from funneling it down your throat too, piggy."

So many humiliating things had started happening. That happens when you've been fattened up so big you can hardly move. You accidentally fell back onto the bed and snapped it right in half. Whoops! You finally did it! You also broke my supersized scale. Saw that coming. So I had to buy a bariatric sized bed and an industrial sized scale for your massive body.

You no longer went out in public since you could barely manage to walk let alone get through my front door. Your ass would more than likely get stuck, then we would have a real problem.

You ballooned right up to nine hundred pounds easily. Lounging on my couch was your full time job. Your body was getting so big I had to buy an oversized one. My fridge was fully stocked at all times thanks to your thousands of followers who graciously donated to your cause. That made it easy to push you passed one thousand pounds.

The day you were nine hundred ninety pounds I spent eight hours funneling food and slurries of slop into you just to get you to reach your goal. You stayed so stuffed you almost had tears in your eyes. But you did it. "Once you hit your target goal you can cum." I persuaded.

Your body kept growing too. Almost like it had given up and your metabolism was non existent. I forced your stomach to stretch so much that you were practically never really full. I made you into a truly obese pig.

Once you swelled up to fifteen hundred pounds you started wheezing and struggling to breathe. Hundreds of pounds of fat pressing down on your chest will do that though. So I had you fitted with an oxygen mask. "There's no turning back now." I would whisper in your ear only making you more eager to gain.

You were completely immobilized at this point. Your arms and legs were so heavy you would break out in a sweat and grow out of breath just attempting to lift them. The amount of fat encasing your body was unreal. I had you right where I wanted you.

You were my toy. My eating machine. My project. Your sex drive never died even after I forced you to get to two thousand pounds. Trying to fuck an inhumanly obese blob was getting hard to do though. So I had a hammock installed to hoist your massive gut on while I pleased you.

When you met twenty five hundred pounds you could barely move even a finger. You couldn't sit yourself up or turn your head. Your arms rested atop a mountain of fleshy rolls and your neck was buried under pounds of fat. I no longer fed you real food. Chewing became tiresome and a hose was attached almost permanently to your face.

You were filled eighteen hours a day. You wanted food more than sleep. You needed it. You wanted to reach five thousand pounds without stopping. I was nervous but accommodated your needs.

Your stomach made the most awful noises. You even demanded I turned up the speed on the pump. I did.

Gorging yourself to three thousand pounds you broke the bariatric sized bed. I couldn't help you off of it. You insisted it was where you were going to stay. You didn't want to stop until you got what you wanted.

You became a pure hog. So greedy and demanding for more every day. As I kept your followers posted on how big you were growing they had donated thousands of dollars to see you reach at least five thousand pounds. Some even donated vats of lard to help you get there.

You were a ticking time bomb. An unhealthy mess ready to collapse. An obese slob equipped with a heart monitor, catheter, oxygen, and you were still glutting yourself heavier. There was no stopping you.

"More!" That's all you seemed to know what to say anymore. I had the pump to the vat turned all the way up. The hose wobbled and the creamy substance flowed down your throat for hours every day. I imagined how absolutely colossal your insides were by now and how swollen your heart was. You would be a medical miracle if people had known.

Forty five hundred pounds.

You were struggling now. Your whole body was spread out and your fingers and toes were gone under a sea of blubber. Your skin was taut and your stomach churned and gurgled constantly. I could hear it groaning for relief to not be overworked. You moaned and huffed through the hose determined to reach five thousand pounds.

I had upgraded my machine with an even better model vat. It was faster and pumped way more through the tubing. I assembled it and showed it to you. Your eyes wide with excitement.

I had removed the old tubing and connected the strap around your head, which was difficult to get to considering how massive you were. Your head stuffed between the rolls on your neck and the fat building up around it. You instinctively began sucking even before I filled the vat. "You are a fucking piggy!"

The machine roared. The tube jolted and the thick weight gain mix flowed yet again. Twice as fast. You moaned again and I could see you trying to wriggle with glee, but let's face it...you were far too fucking fat.

I finally had some help come in to get you onto a few king sized mattresses and remove the bed you were growing around. Those sat on top of an even bigger industrial sized scale. My fellow feeders marveled at your mass. Long feeding and fucking sessions were their reward. You loved it. You loved being a helplessly obese piggy for everyone to use. I loved watching.

Now you were in the home stretch. Forty nine hundred pounds. You were amazingly massive. So helplessly bloated and slovenly. I knew what I wanted to do for your big gain. With a little help I had a large machine operated didlo made. I had you slowly lowered down onto it, fitting it into your tight ass. I attached nipple clamps to your fat tits and prepared you for the biggest orgasm you have ever had. My feeders massaged your corpulent body while I turned up the pressure on the vat and let it fill you.

You were going to gain one hundred pounds within twenty four hours.

The pulsating cock thrusted slowly underneathe you while you fed. Tongues flicking your sensitive tits and grabbing mounds of your flesh. You moaned and your stomach blimped out. My feeders wobbled and jiggled your body teasing you. "You know you'll pop right? If you keep eating like this!" They rubbed your gut soothingly.

But they were nearly right. Your stomach was distancing more than usual and you began sweating. I sped the cock up and you shook, your massive body rippling. "Good...eat. Eat yourself fatter..." They tugged on the clamps.

Forty nine hundred and fifty pounds.

Your face was beet red and you were soaked in sweat. Your belly bloated from the rest of you. I had your gut hoisted up to help my feeders fuck you. Your weight was climbing and so was your blood pressure. I set the cock to full speed.

You moaned and sucked with all you had. You knew it was coming.

Forty nine hundred ninety pounds.

"You're gonna pop!" One of my feeders yelled. "You're stomach is getting huge! Slow down!" But you didnt. Your ass was throbbing and so was the lining of you stomach and your heart. You were shaking and groaning from being fucked and getting so painfully full.

"Almost there..."

You huffed and shook knowing you were reaching your ultimate goal. My feeders pleasing you as your body weight reached five thousand pounds.

"You finally did it."

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Make me your fat fucktoy

I know I can be difficult and whine when you force so much food into me. My belly hurts after 10,000 calories. You're ruthless and hardly give me breaks. My tummy staying big 90% of the day. Every day. I've tripled in size the last few months. I'm so big I'm out of breath just by walking a few feet. You follow me and stuff donuts and cakes into my mouth even when I'm walking. You stop me just to push me against the wall and feed me more. Your hands rubbing my bulging belly, tickling and jiggling it as I moan from being so full. You tease me when I waddle around the house. Yes I'm aware I might get too fat to fit through the door...

I'm getting so out of shape that I need at least 15 minutes just to get myself out of bed. Rolling myself over takes quite a bit of effort now. Shifting my heavy fat encased legs is a workout in itself. I feel myself getting weaker because of you. Always telling me to eat more every day. I've destroyed myself and can't stop. A gluttonous pig I have become. You used to hold me down just to feed me, now I'm growing too big to even resist. Just feeding myself fatter until I have no choice.

You've gotten more aggressive now that the scale reads 600 lbs. You seem to be driven to forcefeed me to immobility and its working... I can hardly get out of bed without your help, which...you don't always assist me, just push me back into bed and stuff pizza down my throat. You love teasing me. Spreading my blubber riddled legs apart and rubbing me. You know how to get me going by stuffing a tube down my throat and stroking me until I'm nearly cumming. Then you stop. I know I'm not allowed to cum until I gain at least a pound in a day. You're so wicked sometimes.

That just makes me want more. 600...850...900 pounds later I'm still filling myself for you. My arms weighed down with big bags of fat resting against my sloppy overlapping rolls on my sides. My globular moobs drooping down my huge belly. I know I'm hardly recognizable I'm so obese. A literal ball of fat unable to stand anymore. My cock buried under a massive mound of lard that also resembles a roll of fat under my burgeoning gut. You've pushed me so far and so much that I can't stop consuming. You used to use a funnel to fill me but upgraded to a tube and vat. Sickening to think of.

I can feel my health declining. I wheeze when you roll me over onto my belly to fuck me. I don't resist at all. I can't. I'm so goddamn fat and unhealthy I would grow out of breath just by wiggling so I lay there as you push yourself into me, spreading my colossal ass cheeks apart. Even when you fuck me I'm eating. Always eating. Mindless and dull I suck down thousands of calories while you pleasure yourself. I can feel my whole body wobble with every thrust. My heart and head pounds from being so massive. You struggle to find my cock as its already wet from pre cum.

After you're finished with me you always roll me over and stroke me while wobbling my huge gut. You remind me of how big and useless I've grown. Now I'm just your fat fucktoy. God I love it. I must be over 1,300 lbs now. My whole body shakes when you jerk me off and I sweat profusely. I can't help it anymore. You tease me and rub my big tits, slapping them while degrading me. My heart pounds and the fat on my chest is slowly suffocating me. Choking me. You force me to lay on my back and my head pounds from the pressure. I wheeze and gasp with every stroke. You kiss my swollen gut and roll it around. It hurts from getting so taut but you just keep feeding and stroking me. I sputter with my mouth filling and my throat working down the slop. "Keep eating pig, eat until you're about to burst. I want you bigger...heavier...completely bedbound." I'm throbbing now. Soaked in sweat. "Work for it pig." You squeeze my swollen thighs. I'm so close.

My stomach hurts now. I can hear the churning deep within. I've eaten way more than I ever have. Its hard to breathe. My chest is pounding and my legs are shaking. My throat is sore from swallowing. I'm huge. I can't see past my full belly. My tits bouncing with every stroke flopping and jiggling. I'm growing dizzy from being worked up and struggling to breathe. Yet you keep forcing more into me. "Thats it...fill yourself. This is your best stuffing session yet. Stretch your stomach for more." You tap my belly and its taut as a drum. I'm ready to blow. My face hot and I grip the sheets. Gurgling noises are now audible from my gut. I'm almost scared that I truly might burst. I whine and wiggle for you to stop. "Just a little more..." Your hand slows and you tease my sack. I know its growing increasingly difficult to reach down there. I grunt and groan from the pain building up deep inside me. I huff and wheeze from behind the tube and involuntarily grind against your strokes. "You're getting big piggy. Almost there."

I attempt to stretch my legs out for you but they're so heavy that I can't. "Stop wiggling pig, just swallow. Eat for me. Grow for me. You're so obese you can't stop. Soon the only thing you'll be able to do is eat yourself to an early grave." And there it is. I finally cum. Hard. The tube empty as well and my stomach is hard from every inch of me being filled. I'm in so much pain from being stuffed to the brim I don't want to move. You leave me groaning and burping, softly rubbing my overstretched gut. "Good hog, I'm proud of you. I'll clean you up."

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Regan Grimes.

I’ve been meaning to post this for ages: 200, 250, 300, and 350 in the same shirt.

A large scale anonymous weight gain commission I have been working on over the past few months.

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