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Small Steps
By Doughtub, 2010 It's safe to say that a six hundred pound man cannot run. Perhaps a sumo wrestler with a muscular frame buried under the expanse of blubber could get a stride going, but a person who has never seen the inside of a gym and has spent a year confined to his bed had no chance. Four hundred pounds ago, he had a beefy body that was fairly strong, but now every step felt like he was carrying two more of himself on his back and front. His steps were painfully heavy and it felt like knives were in his legs. His heart was pounding so loud it was all he could hear - that, and a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He felt like that next waddling step would cause his heart to explode in his chest, but he had to try. He made his way down the narrow hallway that led away from the door to the basement where he had just spent an hour climbing up the stairs to get away from the room he had gotten so fat in. There were no railings to help hold up his body here, although the walls were only a few inches from his bare love handles, so he could lean against them to rest himself, but it didn’t take the strain off his feet. He cursed himself for not fighting back at the beginning. He had laid down in the bed with straps for his arms and legs, excited to have some fun. He ended up getting so much more. The man had been so charming at the bar, ruggedly handsome with sharp blue eyes and salt and pepper hair cropped military-style. They went to his house and stripped down to go into the man's secret chamber. It was hot, that first time, being fucked like he was an object, being filled with cum and then having his ass played with until he shot a load from the slightest touch of his erect cock. He had no control and he loved the feeling. Then the tube feeding began. He had woken up with a tube going into his nose and down his throat. His arms were still strapped down and he felt dizzy, his mind a blur. That was how he spent the year. The man who held him there had been feeding his new toy the worst foods that he had running through the tube. The boy had a rough guess what flowed through the tube by the occasional belch his body let loose, it mostly smelled like a deep fryer. The boy had been getting a daily dose of the man's finest concoction - a mix of oils and animal lards, mixed with emulsifiers and enough junk and fast foods blended up so fine it would drain through the tube. By the end of each day, the boy had digested enough calories to feed six people very well for a day. He almost put on two pounds every twenty-four hours by basically running a deep fryer through his body. He could feel it now, those millions of calories that had turned his young healthy body into a disaster just ready to happen. He waddled unsteadily through the dark house, the sunlight blocked by heavy curtains everywhere. He noticed commercial-sized drums of lard, shortening, weight gain powders, and several blenders lined up on the counter top. His heart seemed to react at seeing the junk that he had been consuming unwillingly, and he needed to sit and rest. He pushed two stools together at the unused kitchen nook and plopped his massive ass down. The stools groaned loudly but held up his bulk, which hung down over the seats like he was a melting ice cream cone. He had no idea why he woke up without the straps on, but he had heard his captor's garage door open upstairs and a car drive off, so he jumped at the only opportunity he had been given to escape before it was too late. It had taken so long to get a distance that a normal sized man would have gotten in less than a minute. The boy gasped for air as his heart tried to slow down, sweat dripped from his head like it was raining, and his feet were now burning with pain. He was only ten feet from the front door, but it may as well have been the Sahara. He waited until his chest stopped hurting and eased his feet back to the floor. He cried out loud as he felt the weight on his feet escalate to the point that he thought he had broken something in his left foot. He took very slow steps, half leaning on the wall to support himself. It was like being an infant walking for the first time, the muscles not used in this way before - everything seemed so hard to do. He felt sick when he felt his cock pulse to life, buried deep in a hole that his captor enjoyed to fuck while sloshing his belly around like a waterbed. He was dying for a foot rub, something the man did at least once a week. The boy knew the man did it just to feel how chubby his feet were getting, in fact he inspected and rubbed every inch of his pet's body every week, counting the new pounds of lard that were swelling inside of him. His dick throbbed again picturing those blue eyes staring into his drug-hazed eyes; that wicked grin that glowed with pride after massaging the rolls of fat he had grown on his boy. He knew that staying meant death. Then again, what would his freedom guarantee? He stopped dead in his tracks when his plump fingers touched the doorknob. He had no idea where he would even go. He was naked and so obese he'd surely cause a scene. Would his heart even survive the shock of being re-introduced to normal life? He doubted it. "Fuck," he said to himself, his voice was actually beginning to sound like a stranger's. He looked back at his steps and his eyes locked on to the drum of lard with a cartoon pig face winking at him. Next to it was the plastic bucket of super weight gainer powder displaying bulging muscles that he would never have for himself. The man who fattened him was fairly buff himself, and he would spend hours working out in front of the boy, flexing and posing for him with that dark grin. The boy's cock would always be oozing precum by the end of this display, and the man would usually end up fucking him in his fat folds or the hole his cock sat at the bottom of. The boy moaned, letting go of the doorknob. He was addicted. He knew his only chance to go was now. He could leave and expose the man for what he had done to him - but he couldn't do it. He could just feel his stomach gurgle just looking at the barrel of animal fat. His cock was straining to rise, and the blubber pushing it back down was making him even hornier. His belly roared with a cry for food, it was the first time in a year that it hadn't had a steady stream of fat draining into it. He hated himself for wanting to open the drum and just start shoveling the tasteless white slop into his mouth, and despite himself, he took a step back towards the kitchen. He was at the drum before he realized it, ignoring the pain in his muscles, and the amount of energy it took just to waddle a few feet. He got to the drum and threw the lid off. The pure white solid grease inside had several new holes dug into it - if each scoop was a daily dose, then he was eating over a gallon a day. He felt so angry inside but it just made him hungrier. Everything he felt made him hungry. He looked at the lard with a smile that he didn't put on his face. He dug his fingers into the fat and felt it melt slightly against his skin as he pushed deeper. Cupping his fingers, he pulled his arm back out with a sloppy suction of air that followed - he remembered the same feeling when the man fucked his belly button. With a ravenous bite, the boy immediately swallowed the white melting paste that filled his fist. Handful after handful he ate. He was a disgusting pig now. He had given himself over to the man who had taken him and had completely turned into the fat-addicted slave what the man wanted. He was scaring himself by how turned on his was, leaning into the barrel so that his huge hanging expanse of belly flesh would squish his buried erection around as he swallowed the blubbery goop like a fat hog. By the time his mind cleared from the feeding frenzy, he had cleared out a huge hole in the lard and his belly was aching from the pure fat stuffing it. He needed to lay down and sleep. He felt heavy and tired again, worse than before. His belly felt so full. His back was beginning to ache. To make the situation worse, the man was home. The car pulled into the garage and the door began to lower behind it. A door opened in the next room and the boy felt his blood run cold. He was terrified at what the man would do to him, catching him out of his room, so close to the exit. "Well, what do we have here?" the man called from the other side of the room. The boy froze and looked at the man in fear. He had lard smeared all over his hands and face, which was bright red with embarrassment. He knew then that going outside would've been too big of a shock - if he felt embarrassed being caught eating lard in front of a man who had been forcing it into him for a year, than stepping outside naked in a strange neighborhood and so obese he could barely walk would surely raise his blood pressure to the bursting point. The man didn't look mad, in fact, he looked impressed. He walked up with a confident strut and sunk his fingers deep into the boy's soft underbelly. The boy could feel the man's rough fingers push and prod until it reached the slimy discharge of semen that had been oozing from his sunken dick. The man looked up at the exhausted boy's face with a giant, toothy grin. "You want me to take care of this?" the man asked. The boy nodded. "Do you need my help in finishing this?" the man asked, thumping his knuckles against the metal drum. The boy moaned and nodded, despite himself. "Then we're going to get you back downstairs and make sure that you get so fat you won't need the straps to keep you there," the man promised. "You sick piggy." The man happily led the unhealthy blob of a boy back down the hallway and down the stairway. By the time they reached the giant bed, the boy was kicking himself for not getting out while he could. Just the walk back alone was more than enough to make sure he would never try leaving again. He laid down with a sigh of relief and submission, looking at his keeper with teary eyes. "Those feet most hurt," the man said, rubbing his hands down over the boy's calves and down over his feet. The boy smiled and wiggled his toes, feeling the soft comforting grip of the man caressing his aching feet. "Let's get this feeding tube back into you and top you off while I work on these pathetic legs, OK Piggy?" The boy nodded and felt his dick let a squirt of cum out deep in his growing flab. | |
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