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When I was a kid I wanted to be fat, not just big but awe-inspiringly large. I was big as a kid, always made fun of on the playground for having a little belly, not that I minded, I made my own lunches and I knew that what I was eating was less than healthy but I didn’t mind, I liked that I was too big even then, when we were supposed to run a mile I couldn’t even jog. I used to stuff pillows under my clothes, imagining what I’d look like if I were bigger. When I hit college I was a porker, the meal plan I had let me hit the 24 diner whenever I felt like it and that was as often as I wanted to fill my now sizeable belly. I was somewhere above 350 when I was a freshman, I couldn’t say for sure because my scale at home only went that high. I did know by that point where my tastes lay, I was hungry for not only food but a nice sausage as well if you catch my drift. It was weird at first, I felt isolated, alone in that I had this strange desire to be fat, fatter even since I was already quite the porker. I discovered online that there were others like me, that I was what some called a gainer, someone who ate with the intent of getting bigger. Though many wanted to simply end up at 300-400 I knew that would never satisfy me, I wanted to be a pile of lard, an utterly huge hog who took his gargantuan meals in bed, physically unable to get up under the weight of my own gluttonous behavior. I made fast friends with guys who were interested in the prospect of watching someone like me expand, and they enjoyed it when I told them of how much I consumed that night, or what my newest weigh in was at the local post office where they had a scale that they let me use. |
After college I found myself quite close to 450, by this point I would be considered quite large by most people’s standards but to me I felt puny, my weighty belly had begun to sag and I enjoyed the feeling of all that fat piled in one place, my waistline being quite expansive and my ass being the desires of quite a few guys I knew. I liked the idea of being a pig, and had to figure out a career to help me meet the goal of gaining plenty of weight. I had a degree in graphic arts so I started doing website design for a good company, it kept me in a chair for most of the day, not much I needed to do required any more than minute movements of my hands so I had plenty of ability to eat at my desk. There was nothing I enjoyed more than my standard workday, I’d come in with two dozen doughnuts from my favorite shop, they had a hot box of their glazed rounds ready for me every morning when I went in to pick it up, I’d eat the first dozen of them with a carton of whole milk on the drive to the office, the other half in the first hour or two, depending on how loudly my ponderously large tummy rumbled. I’d work for an hour or two on whatever needed my time, letting my belly digest it’s calorie laden breakfast before I’d move onto my mid-morning snack, usually a large sub sandwich or something easy to eat. I was given a 2 hour lunch which I used to hit a local restaurant for several lunch specials. There was a pizza place that did all you could eat pizza by the slice, I’d spend the entire time eating right by the register and getting more food, when I started by job I could only knock out maybe 8-10 slices before I was full, but after a year I was up to 20 or so, every time my belly felt so stuffed full, I could hardly get up to go back to work. Most people in my office found me strange, I was the big man in the office to begin with and after a year of eating I outgrew my chair among other things. I started the job wearing jeans that had actual measurements to them, 56 waist pants and a 4 or 5xl shirt, but I found that replacing my clothing was impractical as frequently as I had to do it, my fat ass just kept getting bigger and bigger.
I hit 500 when I was 26, I had found an encourager in my area who found nothing better than to admire my bulk, I gotta say I couldn’t argue with that either, anytime I got to see my lard in a mirror I was thankful that my belly covered my erection - the big pile of blubber had some uses after all. I liked that I could reach down to the bottom of my belly which was on my generously wide hips and lift it up like a sack, I knew that it was there through my eating, spending hour after hour, day after day shoveling food down my gullet, everything from piles of sweets to hearty meals that could feed a whole family, I ate to my heart’s content. My encourager did nothing but promote this behavior. He’d spend dinners with me seeing if I could fit just a little more into my ever expanding belly, when we were home he’d strip and sit on the couch next to me rubbing my sizeable paunch and I loved every second of it. I’d lay there, a food filled pile of fat, breathing heavily while my body worked to digest every calorie I put in it, he’d kiss me all over. He’d start at my soft thighs, my wide legs seemed to drive him wild, from there he’d rub my lower belly, it was nothing but fat and we both loved that, he’d grab it with both hands and squeeze it gently so that he’d feel how taught it was. Then press his hands into where my stomach was, get some oils and massage my food laden mass, hearing me groan and moan in deep pleasure from the sensations, what was even nicer than what he did with his hands was what he could do with his mouth, while he gave me a belly massage that got me going, he would kiss my belly, moving up to my swollen mantits, he’d suckle them knowing that they were a pleasure spot for me since I had more and more trouble reaching my, ahem, inner self. They had gotten large by this point, about an inch and a half across and when he licked them intensely, the pleasure combined with knowing just how much food I had consumed that night and his hands all over my belly got me into levels of pleasure that I could only wish lasted longer.
We’d spend days together that were monuments to my gluttony, he’d take me to a restaurant and I’d end up sampling 4-6 meals for a regular person, all of it would neatly fit into the huge gut. I had come to love just how big I was getting, my walking had moved from a stride in college to a waddle at work to now a slower shuffle, gravity as they say was beginning to bring me down as my barrel thighs would rub against each other and my monumental behind shifted cheek to cheek. I had to have specialty furniture at work; my office chair was barely able to contain my gigantic ass. I’d spend all day eating, my 2 dozen doughnuts had moved up to 5, I’d shovel them into my mouth as fast as I could, the first 20 or so before I even got to work, I could barely wait until I got to my desk before starting on the other 40 for breakfast. My coworkers had some level of disgust at my behavior; I worked hard on my projects but not nearly as much as I did on my own self.
At 700 pounds I had turned into an unabashed glutton, I managed to get my work signed off on me being able to work from home; it saved me from all the bother of going out other than when I felt like it. My belly which hung formerly on my lap now took up so much space that it forced my wide thighs apart, it came in handy since the flab covered over my excitement of my size. Meals became monstrous portions of any treat I’d like, one night might just be 3 gallons of ice cream with whatever syrups I felt like drinking straight out of the bottle or lick off of my encourager who treated my body like a temple of worship, constantly running around trying to care for me. I’d sit on the couch and gorge on pounds of food, eating for hours on end, chasing a full belly became an obsession to me since it could now take more than 10 pounds of food to be sated. By the end of a meal I’d have food that landed all over my fat chest, I started wearing tiny shirts as a big to help keep myself more clean, though mostly it just worked to push my tits together, letting me rub them against the fabric and push myself into high waves of pleasure. Every day I became more and more like a hog, glutting myself until I’d be too stuffed to stand. I loved my blubber; I loved how when I walked around I could catch my fat sides rubbing on doorframes and narrow corridors and how in my shortness of breath I would grunt like a stuffed pig. I loved how even my 10xl shirts couldn’t contain my belly, the sagging fat of my lower gut hang out, covering my thighs and jiggling wildly when I walked bouncing off my legs and making me wonder how long until it covered my knees and would start hitting my shins, how fat I’d be then. I started using a cane to help support my weight, and I nearly came when I bent my first one under the strain of me putting too much of my mass on it. When I hit 750 I gave up walking for the most part, I picked up a mobility cart so that my poor fat swollen legs didn’t have to bear the burden any longer. My encourager kept my kitchen fully stocked and usually my desk too, or what I called my desk, I was too fat for any desk chair so I had taken to sitting in a loveseat and having my encourager wheel a table in front of me, it worked great since I have easy access to my computer as well. With less physical activity to burn calories my weight just piled on, the loveseat I sat in became too small, my giant legs and tremendous ass were wider than the entire 2 person seat. I soon began my journey to outgrow furniture, because clothing was far too easy. My sweatpants were required to manage the daunting task of covering my extremely fat lower half, the yard of fabric in my crotch and inner thigh area would always wear out quickly, I sweated like a pig so the fabric would get soaked in sweat very fast and any moving required the fabric to stretch and rub against my inner thigh. My encourager loved seeing me outgrow things, one time I bent over to pick something up while he was behind me, I tore my seams in my pants and I could hear him cum, unable to help himself and hump my fleshy behind while he howled in ecstasy.
I hit 800 on my 31st birthday; it was an important milestone for me because of what happened on my birthday. I had been gorging like a madman trying to reach it before the day I was a glutton before but this was me forcing myself even harder than my usual. I’d still eat my 3 meals a day but when each one took 3 hours my entire day was spent stuffing myself like a bottomless hog, I was getting lazy with my personal grooming too, I hadn’t shaved in 8 months or cut my hair in somewhere over a year, so I even looked like a beast, a big fat hairy animal who dug into his fattening feasts with more grunts from gasping for air between huge mouthfuls of a rich pasta or handful of pie being crammed into my bloated fat face than I ever said words. The night of my birthday was especially memorable, I hit 800 the night before and after my overfed body finished digesting all I had given it and turning it into even more fresh fat to surround my poor strained skeleton and went out for the first time since I had started trying to get to 800. My encourager took me to a Brazilian BBQ restaurant where despite the food being so delicious it was all you could eat, and I indented to test that. We got into the restaurant at 4 for an early dinner and didn’t leave until 9, I sat at a booth with the table removed laying with my back against the wall and my tremendous mass of a belly on my lap. This proved useful as I had them add plates to my table like paunch, the soft fat allowing the heavy plates a good resting spout before I put it right before my face and shoveled food in with my hands, silverwares for someone who doesn’t eat for more time then they spend sleeping in a day, I needed my 30,000 calories a day. I knew my shirt was getting stained from all the excess that my hands let fall before I could cram it into my mouth, the delicious sauces covering my shaggy beard and making me wonder if it’d really be worth it to replace my 12-xl shirts. I’m so fat I’ve transcended from being a normal human to something else, I really have become an eating machine, putting on more weight every day and soon walking would become too much, my weight would start climbing like never before. After 5 long hours of cramming food into my gullet I was finally sated, I knew my blubbery face was a mess, and my shirt was literally wet with a mix of sweat and sauce but I had a smirk on my face showing just how satisfied I was with my display as a hog. I managed to transfer to the scooter after letting some of the massive quantity of food I had consumed digest, my encourager was happy to help, pushing hard on my engorged belly with both hands and still barely able to get any use from the massage with all my bellyfat in the way, but I loved it, just like I did him. The problem occurred when the scooter stopped moving after 5 feet, the motor was no longer strong enough to move my lard which was bad news, each of my hips were bigger than my encourager, which given his size meant a lot. The restaurant managed to find a pair of canes and I barely made it to the van, having to painfully fight fatigue and the amazing colossal weight that was my body. Every muscle I had strained to keep me up and slowly moving, my paunch pushed out so far I couldn’t reach the front and it sagged all the way to my knees. I was disappointed in my ride home, I probably burned a few thousand calories in the slow walk to the van, I couldn’t have that anymore. That night would be the last time I went out, ever.
A year later I emailed my boss my resignation, immobility was everything I had hoped for. With the bare minimum exercise almost everything was excess calories which are a step forward for me, not in the literal sense of course but I was quite close to my goal of the legendary half ton. The decision to stop working was an easy one, when you’re my size you discover that work cuts into your eating time. Unemployment would be able to pay for food for a long time and after that there are other financial aide services I can apply for. My boss understood when I quit; he wished me the best of luck in my endeavors and strangely asked for a photo so he could see how I looked, so I had my encourager snap a few shots of me. It was interesting seeing what I looked like from the standing perspective, I have become a tremendous beached whale, while sitting up my back fat sags down where it lands on top of my love handles, this flab alone hangs about a foot and a half off of my shoulders and the fat roll is so thick you could stick your hand between the two mounds of flab and end up completely covered. My belly reaches to my ankles when I sit, my cock now deeply buried under many pounds of pure man fat. When horny all I have to do is stick my arms under my belly apron and jiggle until I cum, it feels amazing to have that hot fluid spray all over my underbelly rolls. You could hardly see my eyes in the photograph, I had let my hair grow now for almost 3 years and my beard was bushy and able to cover my spare tire of a double chin, I had a neck once but it disappeared over time and poundage. The photo I sent him had me wearing my last pair of pants I ever fit into; I had run out of clothes and any need for them, after I overflowed from those black 15xl sweatpants I figured there really was no point to clothes anymore, my smooth stretch-mark covered skin was all I needed, I figured I would leave this world the way I came, in my birthday suit and slightly larger than the average person. I still dream of the day when I can be crowned the fattest man in history, a wheezing helpless blob completely immobilized by the only thing I can do anymore… eat. A handful of people have managed to get to how big I am now, 1,248 pounds is quite a lot but I wonder how far I can push myself, could I reach the full ton? Could I actually end up so fat that I couldn’t raise my arms anymore, or keep my eyes open. My friend puts a feeding tube in my mouth attached to 3 full gallons of gainershake, with any luck I’ll be over 2000 in about two years…
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