A Gainer's Fantasy
Note: This "story" is 100% true. It is a nonfiction work based on my life. Please do not share or re-post without my permission. Thank you.
Every child has dreams. They want to be a firefighter, or a princess, or an astronaut. I had a dream of what I wanted to be, but it wasn’t a job. What I wanted to be was fat.
I can’t remember exactly when this fantasy started, but I was always fascinated by fat guys, even from a young age. When I began puberty, I realized I was attracted to them, but it wasn’t really in a sexual way. I was attracted to them because I wanted to be them. I wanted to feel what it felt like to have an enormous belly, to stuff myself full of food and not stop, to have to waddle around because my body was so heavy that I couldn’t even walk properly.
Fortunately for me, I was a 90’s kid, which meant that right around the time that I started having these realizations about myself, the Internet was right there for me to explore my desires. I used to Google “how to get fat”, though looking back now, it seems pretty silly. That question seems to come up a lot in the gaining community, but the answer really is simple: all you have to do is eat, and eat a lot.
Unfortunately, being an 11-year-old with no access to an unlimited supply of food - and a metabolism so fast that it wouldn’t matter even if I did - it was pretty hard for me to “get fat”. I was always skinny and slender, but surprisingly so, given my addiction to junk food like chips and candy. Around middle school, I discovered the glory of pasta, and quickly became obsessed with it. I was a picky eater, so anytime my parents would cook dinner that I didn’t like – which was often - I would just make myself a pot of pasta. This really helped pack on the pounds, but as I was still going through puberty, for every inch I would widen out, I would get two inches taller, making it impossible for me to get truly fat.
My freshman year of high school, I finally discovered that there was an entire community of people online with the same fantasy – or fetish – as me. I learned that I was what was referred to as a “gainer”: a person who gets sexual stimulation from the act of gaining weight. Right around the time that I made this discovery, I got my first job working at an ice cream/sub shop, which was the perfect job for a young gainer like me. Though my boss may refute this claim, I suddenly had free, unlimited access to all of the foods that could get me fat: ice cream, cakes, sandwiches, fried foods. I began picking up weight, but as I was still tall and skinny, all I had to show for my gaining was a small but prominent belly.
Despite my secret identity as a gainer, I was actually one of the popular kids at my high school, which made it hard to truly embrace my hidden desire to fatten up. I’d always been concerned with what my friends and peers thought about me, and I knew nobody would understand my fantasy. After all, that’s what fetishes are: sexual desires that aren’t considered “normal” by most of society. I decided to keep the “gainer” side of me to myself. As I became wrapped up in my busy social life (not to mention school and work), I gradually found myself becoming less and less fixated on gaining. I kept getting taller and skinnier, but my belly was always there, just waiting patiently for an opportunity to grow.
That opportunity came during junior year when I got my license and my first car. Suddenly, I had freedom to go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I would wake up early in the morning and go to Dunkin Donuts and stuff myself in my car. I’d get off school and hit up the drive-thru at McDonald’s or Burger King. I soon found myself weighing 190 pounds and having to upsize all of my jeans and shorts to 36's because my waist had gotten so wide. I had definitely gotten bigger, but still, the weight only went to my middle.
When senior year came, I hit the brakes on my gaining once again to focus on school and work and friends. I spent almost the entire summer after graduation soaking up the sun at my friend's pool, so I had to keep somewhat of a "beach bod", despite my belly and small love handles. But little did I know that I would never have a "beach bod" ever again. That summer was the end of my skinny days. Freshman year of college was about to begin, and that was when my gaining really took off.
Most people gain the "freshman 15" during their first year at college. But very few gain the "freshman 50". Between August and January of my freshman year, my weight soared from 190 to 240. The crazy part was that I wasn't even purposefully trying to gain weight. It just happened. I was so caught up in my classes and homework that I didn't realize how big I was getting. It wasn't until my yearly check-up in January when I stepped onto the scale at the doctor's office and realized that I had put on 50 pounds.
If I had been gaining on purpose, I would have been thrilled. But since this was an accident, I freaked out. My doctor was shocked, and insisted that I lose weight. I went home and looked at myself in the mirror and realized that my "little belly" was now a full-fledged gut. My whole body was starting to soften. I panicked, and vowed to get healthier. I joined a gym for the first time and started going several days a week. I stopped eating fast-food and started eating salads constantly. By the time summer arrived, I got my weight down to 215. I was obviously still bigger than I had ever been, but I was comfortable enough with my body to go to the beach or the pool and not feel embarrassed.
It wasn't until summer ended that I realized what a mistake I had made in losing weight. Most gainers would be thrilled to gain 50 pounds in 6 months! If I had kept up the habits that had gotten me to 240 so quickly, I would have been pushing 300 by the time fall rolled around. Why was I so worried about getting fit when my dream had always been to be fat?
As my sophomore year of college began, I resolved to actually try gaining weight. I joined gainer sites like Belly Builders and Grommr in order to seek encouragement to keep me working towards my goals. Over the next two years, my weight bounced - literally - between 215 and 235. I flip-flopped between getting fat and getting fit. There were weeks at a time where I’d go to the gym excessively and eat right. But my gut was still there, no matter how hard I worked out or how many days I went without stuffing myself full of donuts or French fries or chocolate bars. I could hide it underneath of baggie XL hoodies, but I just couldn’t get rid of it. So I’d “relapse” into my addiction to gaining, hitting up fast food drive-thrus 3 times a day and shoving as much sugar and calories down my throat as I possibly could. I would step on the scale and see the numbers rising to 220…225…230…235. Anytime I would inch closer to 240, my fattest ever, I would feel that urge to stop and start working out again. No more fried foods, no more ice cream before bed.
I didn’t realize that this “yo-yo” dieting was taking its toll on my body. For every week I’d spend eating right and exercising constantly, I’d spend two weeks pigging out and lounging around gorging myself on all the junk food I could get my hands on. For every pound I lost during my “fit” stages, I’d gain 2-3 pounds during my “fat” stages. All of this back-and-forth was slowly adding more weight to my body, and pretty soon, it wasn’t just my gut that was getting bigger. I was getting bigger all over, especially in the middle, around my waist and my ass. I realized that much of my wardrobe, which consisted of L-sized T-shirts and 36-38” pants, was starting to get snug and uncomfortable around my growing body.
In the fall of my senior year, a wonderful thing happened: I turned 21. I spent almost every single weekend after my 21st birthday going out to bars with friends and getting wasted on mixed drinks. A lot of gainers use beer as a tool to develop their “beer guts”, but I was a fan of liquors like vodka and rum and tequila, all of which went well with a variety of sugary, high-calorie mixers like soda and mixes. Another reason most people gain weight while drinking is that the only food that most bars serve are greasy, fried foods. Almost every night I’d go out, not only would I order about 4-6 mixed drinks, but also gooey cheese fries or BBQ-smeared chicken tenders.
It’s no surprise that this was when I started noticing serious changes. I ripped the bottoms out of multiple pairs of boxers thanks to my widening ass. I had to begin wearing my work shirts untucked to hide my roll of spare tire that hung over the waistline of my snug khaki pants. Winter rolled around, and I found myself buying all XL-sized clothes for the first time ever. Another first? I was packing into 40” sized pants, something I never imagined I would be able to do. Even when I’d first started gaining, my belly got rounder and thicker, but my waist size stayed the same. Not anymore. I was getting softer and wider and thicker all over my body, and I couldn’t stop myself.
I had a yearly check-up, and learned that I had soared past my previous high of 240 and was pushing 250. The doctor asked me about the stretch marks that covered my gut and my sides and asked me to really reevaluate my diet and exercise routine. I was too ecstatic about passing the 250 mark to pay attention to him. That June, I was a groomsman in my friend’s wedding party. We had gotten our tuxes fitted back in January, but the store called us all about a week before the wedding to get our sizes checked just to make sure everything fit okay. Big surprise: I could barely squeeze into mine anymore. I had to get everything – the shirt, the vest, the jacket, the pants – refitted and express shipped in time for the wedding. After the wedding was over, I flipped through the pictures the photographer had taken and realized that, out of the 7 groomsmen, I was by far the fattest of them all.
I used this photographic evidence of my bulging body to motivate me harder. I was out of school and working a full time retail job Monday thru Friday, so I had plenty of time and money to continue ballooning up. My gym membership card sat and collected dust for months. I’d wake up with enough time before work to go to Dunkin Donuts and order a fresh dozen of creamy, glazed treats. Just in the 5 minute car ride between there and my job, I’d have half of them already gone, getting myself covered in crumbs and flakes of sugar. Hours later, I'd leave work on my lunch break to head to McDonald’s or Burger King so I could order value meals – yes, more than one - and wash them down with a milkshake (or two) before I had to head back to work. On weekends, I'd lounge around all day long, watching TV and stuffing myself full of pizza and bacon cheese fries and foot-long steak-and-cheese subs.
I could literally feel myself getting heavier. That spare tire I had gained was blowing up. I began feeling that familiar snugness in my clothing, but this time, it was XL’s that were too tight. I once again found myself ripping boxers right up the back. I had to order new work uniforms because I couldn't button up my shirts over my bulging gut, and I was bursting the seams of my khaki pants. I was literally swelling with every passing week. I’d look in the mirror and see visible changes. I used to be able to hide my gains beneath a baggie XL hoodie. But now, I couldn’t even squeeze those same hoodies over my fat, swaying gut. Folds of fat began forming that separated my huge stomach from my plump man tits, which had swollen into their own beefy roll of fat that hung beneath my armpits. My thighs and ass grew thicker and wider, constantly straining even my biggest pairs of pants. My face was round and I grew a deep double chin that covered most of my neck.
As my body expanded, so did my appetite. Suddenly it took more and more food to truly satisfy me. My trips to Dunkin Donuts now consisted of two dozen donuts, not one. I used to only be able to eat about 5-6 slices of pizza in one sitting, but now I was polishing off whole pizzas at once, and then wandering into the kitchen in search of more food to snack on (usually entire family size bags of potato chips, or maybe a whole container of double stuffed Oreos). Nearly all of my paychecks went towards food.
My whole body continued to inflate, and the numbers on the scale ticked up past my wildest dreams. I'd hit my "peak" of 250 in June, and, at the time, I thought that was huge. But by the time Christmas rolled around, I had blown past 270, and was forced to upsize my wardrobe to XXL shirts and 44" pants. The red sweater I'd worn the previous Christmas clung to my gut like spandex; the tan dress pants I'd worn last year couldn't even slide up past my jutting ass. After the holidays, I made a half-ditch attempt at going to the gym. I used to be able to run a mile in 7 minutes; now, I couldn't even walk half a mile in 20 minutes without sweating and feeling weak. My doctor said that it would be hard for me to do cardio activities like I used to because I've gotten so huge that my legs can't handle the strain of physical exertion. My solution? To just cancel my gym membership and use the money towards some more donuts.
My friends, family and co-workers started commenting on my weight, which had never happened before. I'd passed the point of being able to hide my gains, and I was too focused on getting my next meal to really care about what anybody thought about me. Lots of people put on weight in the years after high school. So what if I've gained almost 100 pounds in the 5 years since graduation? Everybody has the big, fun, fat friend who's always up for dinner and drinks. I would just have to embrace that role and accept my fate.
It's now April, and I just hit 280. Pretty soon, I'll have to go summer clothes shopping. This will be the summer that I hit 300 pounds. It will also be the summer that I upgrade to 3XL clothing. 5 years ago, I was just a tall, skinny kid with a belly who excitedly read gainer stories and dreamt of becoming as fat as the main characters were. Now? As you've just read, I've been living my very own gainer story. I still have many pounds to gain, but I can proudly say that I'm fat, and I'm only going to get fatter. Can you say the same for you?
Gotta go. The pizza guy's here.
"As you've just read, I've been living my very own gainer story. I still have many pounds to gain, but I can proudly say that I'm fat, and I'm only going to get fatter. Can you say the same for you? Gotta go."
I can say all the same things about myself. I'm very fat, proud of it and I'm getting fatter