reedrfeedr

[reedrfeedr]

story - ideal self

(we all have things we want to change about ourselves. but do we know what we really want? contains: role reversal, weight gain, weight loss, shrinking, growth, tf, mtf, some abuse / rough play.)

“So uh, when’s this supposed to start working?” The pig tossed the empty bottle on the bed, snorting in frustration.

“Hmm…says here ‘consuming this will transform the person into the owner’s ideal self after consumption.’ How long will that be?” scratching his chin, the small bear sat on the edge of the bed. “Anyway, wanna just chill in bed in case something happens?”

“I don’t think anything’s gonna happen, but sure.” The big pig jumped into bed, making the frame creak under his immense weight.

“Whoa-hey! Careful, big guy…I’m telling you, I’ve seen some crazy fucking transformations.”

“Those could have been photoshopped.” The pig skeptically skimmed the label again.

“Okay, but like, you could see in their eyes…it’s the same person, just….different.”

Suddenly, the pig bounced up onto his knees, and then, using his arms, pulled on the bear’s shoulder until he fell back onto the bed. What he lacked in strength he made up for in leverage. Scooting around with a huff and a bed squeak, he looked into the bear’s eyes. “I’m not noticing anything.”

The little bear could feel even from that display of agility, the pig was a bit more winded than he wanted to let on, and his fat hand pressed heavily into his shoulder. Big farm animals like his friend were always prone to roughhousing, and he could feel the warm, ragged breath in his lightly flushing face.

“…g-Get off me, you hog.” The small bear struggled a bit to wiggle free from under the arm reinforced with the big pig’s bulk.

The pig let out an involuntary snort, and hefted his torso back up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to.” The little bear sat up, and the pig did the same, shuffling to sit at the edge of the bed. “Forgot you’re such a lightweight.” the pig added, teasingly. He pushed against the bear playfully, shoulder to shoulder.

The little bear got knocked sideways with more strength than he expected. “It’s…” oof “fine, big guy.”

----

“Wanna get something to eat?” the pig said, almost as if fulfilling some kind of instinctual requirement.

“Are you kidding? We just ate dinner.” the little bear side eyed the pig, glancing up from his phone.

“…well, yeah…but I’m hungry. Think your little potion increases appetite?” the pig got a bit excited at the thought.

“I mean, maybe? I wonder if your body needs calories to process the change or something.”

“Good enough for me. Maybe the potion thinks I’m too skinny for a pig…” The pig inquisitively poked his belly.

“Practically wasting away, huh. By the way, you’re paying for my bed frame when you break it, right?” Said the bear, remembering the distinct creak when the pig dared to rest their weight against the bear’s bed.

The big pig panicked, and started frantically mashing on the screen of his phone. “UH, o-Ordering some pizzas, want anything?”

----

“God, when is that pizza getting here…” the pig mumbled, lazily refreshing the pizza tracker page on his phone.

“So uh, what did you want?” The bear blurted out.

“Huh?” The pig glanced up from his phone.

“With the potion. What did you want to turn into? The whole ‘ideal self’ thing.” The little bear bit his lip, looking down briefly.

“Oh, that. Man, I don’t think it’s-“

“I was just curious, that’s all.” The little bear flashed an awkward but genuine smile.

The pig smirked back. “I dunno. Is it a sorta…true self kind of thing? I suppose I’m pretty happy as is. Though…”

“What?”

“I dunno. I like being a fat pig, honestly. It’s nice to sort of….embrace being indulgent, I guess.” The pig traced the edges of his phone with a finger. “It’s weird talking about yourself…like, it’s nice to have something about you that you just know, that feels natural. I know some people would find that limiting, big gross dumb pig, whatever, but…I don’t know. It’s also kind of freeing. But…”

“But?”

“But…” the pig snorted involuntarily, “there’s that same indulgent part of me that kind of wants more.” The pig chuckled to himself. “There’s a part that doesn’t just want to be heavy, but heavier and stronger, more powerful too, enough to really control all that bulk.” The pig rubbed his belly absentmindedly. “Like, a big polar bear or something. Just MASSIVE.”

The little bear chuckled.

“What? This is YOUR thing, YOU asked-”

“Oh, sorry! It’s just…that’s what I want too.” The little bear pinched at the comforter pooled at his feet.

“You? But…you’re a little guy. Why would you…”

The bear raised his eyebrows at the pig.

“Fair point. Hey, uh, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine, really.” The bear glanced back down. “I’ve always…there’s always been this thing for me.” The bear sighed quietly. “I’ve always wanted to be one of the bears.”

“But…you are a bear.”

“I know. No, not like…like, picture a bear. Does that bear look like me?” The bear patted his chest to illustrate.

“I don’t think…”

“I know, I know. Bears come in all shapes and sizes, of course, sure. But like…c’mon. I am a bear, but I don’t embody a bear.”

The pig considered his words for a moment. “You’re…you’re a bear, of course you’re a bear.”

“Guess it doesn’t always feel like it…” The little bear slumped. “I just…I normally don’t really mind, I don’t. It can be fun to be the ‘little guy’, I don’t mind giving up control, I know my lot.”

The bear started getting incensed. “And I know it’s all bullshit too, that it’s not all genetics and size, that the entire IDEA of big bulky men barging in and taking control like some kind of stupid patriarchal paradigm is a fucking stupid goal. But…”

The bear’s voice quieted again. “I just want the choice, I guess…sometimes….I do want to be in control.”

The bear started breathing heavier. “I really…I want to make people look UP to see my eyes, not the other way around. I want to be the biggest guy in the room for once. I want the strength to get what I want and the power to never be told no.”

The bear looked right at their friend. “…and I want to push YOU into the bed, and I want YOU to have a moment where you wonder if I’m even going to let you free, because somewhere deep in your little prey brain you know it’s up to me now.”

The bear blinked rapidly and shook his head, as if exiting a trance. “Sorry. Sorry. I uh….I’ve been in my head about this whole thing for a while…I guess I’m just mad that I was stupid enough to believe it.”

“It’s okay. Really.” The pig flashed a smile and rubbed the little bear’s shoulder. “It’s like…we live in this world where all these little expectations and programming are placed upon us, and they tell us it’s bad, it’s outdated, we left it behind. But it’s still there, isn’t it.”

The bear nodded.

“Hey, you know-“

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“You hungry?”

“Fucking famished.”

----

The pig burped. “Ooof, maybe you were right, we did kinda just eat huh. That pizza is defeating me here…” The pig instinctively rubbed his belly to comfort it.

“OH MY GOD.” The bear became alert, as if forgetting something important.

“…what?”

“I can’t believe you’re turning down more food, that’s quite a feat for you.” The bear smirked.

“WOW. Funny.” The pig rolled his eyes in response.

“I guess I didn’t eat too much, because I’m famished.” The bear uncharacteristically took a large chomp out of another slice.

“Maybe it’s those bear instincts coming in…gotta prepare for winter, yeah?”

“We don’t hibernate.”

“I thought that was an all bears kinda thing?”

“Not all bears are alike.” The bear took another bite. “Obviously.”

The pig twiddled his hands for a moment. “Say uh, fuck the potion, but maybe…I wonder if you could, I dunno, bulk up a bit.”

“What do you mean?” The bear asked, a mouthful of cheese and grease.

“You wanna be bigger, yeah? I know it’s not the same thing, but you could work out a bit, dunno, maybe I could teach you how to dirty bulk, heh.” The pig snorted at his own joke.

“I dunno, pig, I see a lot of pizza left on your plate.” The bear took another big chomp as if to illustrate.

“Hey, it’s my stomach acting up, okay?”

----

“HELL YES. ALL ME BABY.” The bear gloated, almost throwing the controller on the ground before setting it on the cushion beside him.

“Okay bud. Not like you were using the best car or anything.” The pig grumbled.

“And the LOSER has to get me a soda.”

“Since when? Winner gets drinks far as I’m concerned. Besides…” urp “that pizza still isn’t sitting right in my stomach. Maybe they used bad cheese or something? Oof…” The pig slumped forward.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get it. I feel fine anyway.” The bear taunted, hopping to his feet and walking to the kitchen. “Want anyth…” There was a sound like a small snap.

“Just a 7-up if you got…hey, everything okay?” The pig sat up to look over the counter into the kitchen.

“Uh…” The bear just stared at his hands. The soda had landed on the floor. “It’s just….this shelf used to be taller.”

“What?” The pig rocked himself up to waddle to the kitchen.

“The soda shelf…I normally have to stand on my tip-toes, but now…” The bear slammed the fridge shut and ran to the bathroom.

“Oh fuck, it can’t…” The pig followed.

The bear stared into the mirror, watching his chest heave up and down from his breath. He darted his eyes across his doppelgänger in the mirror, trying to find the differences. Did his head come this close to the top of the mirror before? Was his chest that bulky looking? Did his belly stick out that much?

The pig rounded the corner and squinted. “You don’t…look that different to me…” The pig continued to scrutinize the two of them in the mirror. “Wait! I think you’re a little taller, big guy.”

“For real?” The bear started darting his eyes around even quicker, soaking in any details that may have changed.

“It’s slight, but I think so.” The pig stood up straight and turned his face left and right. “I must be changing too….fuck, we’re both going to be BIG BEARS now, huh.”

The bear turned to face his friend. “Fuck….we really are. FUCKING TOLD YOU.”

The pig smiled. “Fuck….wonder how much bigger I’m going to get…I do have all this mass already, after all…” The pig got even more excited about his prospects. “Do you have like…measuring tape? Maybe a-“

“Scale? Oh shit, yeah, in the bedroom.”

----

“Alright, hold still. Okay, so you were that before, so….you’re up a good three inches….fuck. Now see if you can do me.” The pig said, excitedly.

“Sure….you said you were that, so….huh.” The bear looked perplexed.

“What?” The pig turned around.

“It’s just…I think you’re down a couple inches.”

“You’re probably not holding it straight, try…” The pig stopped talking when he noticed it. He was still looking down at the bear, as before, but it wasn’t nearly as low as before. He could feel his neck fat bunching up less from craning downward, as clear as reality yet foreign and strange, like losing muscle memory.

“…w-what about weight? Maybe you’re turning into a more thorough pig or something? Like you said, it could be a sort of ‘true self’ situation.” The bear was genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, lemme just…” The pig hopped on the scale. “…I’m….down 20 pounds? But I just ate…” Now the pig was looking at himself in the full length mirror in the bedroom, hefting his belly and trying to find any noticeable changes.

Meanwhile, the bear quietly stepped on the scale, and was up 30 from just last week. Involuntarily, he let out a huff.

The pig started breathing faster, panicking. “what is happening…”

“Hey buddy, maybe it’s just a temporary thing? It’s not like you’re not still huge…”

“What the hell did you give me? Stupid fucking potion magic bullshit. You got some defective black market shit, and it’s fucking me up now.” The pig was still staring at himself in the mirror as the bear approached him.

“I didn’t do anything on purpose! We even drank from the same potion, remember?” The bear put a comforting hand on the pig’s shoulder.

“Don’t you-“ the pig turned to face the bear and was mortified. They saw eye to eye now. Quickly, as if by instinct and to not draw the bear’s attention of it, the pig slumped his posture and slinked to the bed to sit down.

The bear noticed.

“Hey, buddy…” The bear walked over and sat next to the pig, the bed creaking from the strain of both their weight.

“It’s just…I don’t know what’s going to happen.” The pig admitted, his hands rubbing his thighs.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” The bear put his hands on top of the pig’s. They felt large against his leg.

The pig looked up at the bear. “Okay.” He took another breath to center himself, and stood back up.

“Well, there’s only one thing we can do now.”

“What’s that?” The bear asked.

The pig turned around and smirked. “Obviously, if we’re getting new bodies, we gotta compare dicks.”

The bear blushed. “Y-you sure?”

“This is fucking happening. When are we gonna get to do this? You’re probably gonna rip out of your clothes before long anyway, bear, might as well rip off the bandaid.” The pig resigned himself. If this was what was happening, he’d at least have some fun with it.

“Okay fine.” The bear stood. He was solidly a few inches taller than the pig now. “You first.”

“Fuck, you’re getting big.” The pig snorted. “Well, if I’m losing a bit of weight at least I’ll….oh fuck off.”

The pig kicked off his boxers, revealing a small cock with a set of tiny balls. “I SWEAR it wasn’t like this before.”

The bear chuckled despite himself. “You sure?”

“Fuck you. That thing about pigs having thick cocks and big heavy balls is….was true for me. But now…fuck…” The pig sucked in his gut to get a better look at it. “Anyway, your turn. Better not be shy now.”

The bear closed his eyes. Thoughts started racing through his head - he was a grower, not a shower, he was a bit small but not THAT bad for his size, right, he wondered if it grew in proportion, will it-

The pig interrupted the train of thought. “C’MON.”

The bear pulled his tight boxers down, revealing a thick cock flopping over a heavy ballsack. It started chubbing up at it’s own reveal.

“Of fucking course.” The pig groaned.

The bear was feeling himself. “Sorry pig, got a bit of size envy? I’m sure lots of folks would be happy with…all that you got.”

“Shut up, man…” The pig trailed off.

With the pig turned around, the bear got a look at the pig’s large, round ass. From this angle, it looked even bigger than normal, but then again, he’d never seen his friend naked before.

“Well, at least you’re getting some other assets…” Without thinking, the bear gave his friend’s ass a generous smack, “quite the backside you got there, rump roast.”

“Wha-huh? I thought I was getting smaller, not…” Sure enough, the pig turned sideways, and a more stout, but more bottom heavy pig looked back at him. His ass, once a wide flabby cushion, now looked more like a shelf of pork that stuck out enticingly. As if to match, while his stomach has shrunk from it’s previous apron, his tits had picked up the slack for his front, giving him a more pear shaped appearance for the formerly masculine pig. Even his nipples seemed to grow with the rest of his chest, becoming faded, fleshy targets at the ends of his fat boobs. He was still shrinking though, and started to feel truly dwarfed compared to his friend.

At the same time, the bear was also getting a good look at himself. His head was now out of reach of the full-length mirror view, the one he had purchased when his proportions had been more diminutive. His pot belly had grown into a thick gut, rounded and perky, with a soft layer of give being held up by a more sturdy core of muscle. His arms had thickened as well, going from the flabby untoned specimens of someone who didn’t have the patience for a workout into bulky, powerlifing arms, strong with muscle and fat. His chest…tits…pecs had followed suit, heavy mounds of chest fat bulging with a structure of muscle underneath. His cock would be huge if not for the fact that the rest of him grew to match.

“Holy fuck, I’m…” the bear flexed an arm, “massive.”

“and I’m….” The pig pressed his fat tits together. “…a fucking freak.”

The pig waddled as fast as his stout legs would carry him to the bed, wanting to jump onto it but only managing a roll to heave himself onto it, burying his face in his hands, very upset. “I don’t know who’s ideal self this is, but it’s not fucking mine.”

The bear walked over to the bed and picked up the bottle. Rereading the words, he knew who’s ideal it was.

“You’re right, pig, it’s not yours.” The big bear walked over to the bed. He looked absolutely massive to the little pig.

The bear held out his hand as his hands grew, claws extending. “It’s mine.”

“What? Did you…mean to do this?” The pig stammered.

“Not at first, no. But who’s to say we can’t enjoy it?” The bear stretched his neck as he grew another inch all at once, his belly bulging further, cock beginning to throb.

“I don’t…I don’t think I want-“

“But I do. And us, the both of us…we’re not done changing yet.” The big bear shoved his arm into the little pig’s shoulder, pinning him. The little pig wasn’t sure how much to fear his friend, wasn’t used to being so outclassed. He saw the big bear’s muscles bulge outward again, felt his claws just barely start to dig in. “You’re not meant to be a pig anymore.”

He felt something strange on his head, his ears were growing longer, softer. Across his body, tufts of white fur began to sprout along him. The little creature felt warm, unfamiliar with this new exterior growing in. The white fur ran up the bear’s arm too, consuming his former fur. The big bear grew again to match his new color.

“I’m the big scary polar bear….and you’re a cute little rabbit.” Suddenly, they felt the big bear’s hand grab their new ears while their other arm gripped into them tighter. The thought barely entered their mind to even struggle. It felt natural, almost freeing to be overpowered by the stronger, more deadly animal.

“Cute little rabbits don’t get to say no to big scary bears, do they.” The rabbit nodded her head no. The big bear lightly ran a claw over her nipple, and cupped the other hand gently to her soft chin. She felt his warm, moist breath trace her countenance, her little breaths being swallowed up by his warm air dominating the space between them. He looked like a different type of being compared to her, something powerful and terrifying and absolute, his arms may as well have been the weight of inevitability for as much as they had control over her, even as they held her tenderly for the moment.

“I’m in control now.”

The little rabbit looked into the big bear’s eyes, and she didn’t recognize them.

#story #role reversal #weight gain #transformation #wg #fat #size difference #shrinking

[reedrfeedr]

story - pavlov

(Giving into indulgence has lasting consequences. weight gain, food play, second person.)

You should have known you were fucked the first time it happened.

It was so innocuous, you almost didn’t notice it - staring at another spreadsheet at work, rubbing your eyes to keep from passing out, the morning coffee wearing off too early to carry you to lunch…lunch. There’s that new wing place across the street…you glance at the menu flyer they left in the lobby. You haven’t had any in a while, but still you could almost taste the way the vinegar bite of the hot sauce cuts through the savory fat of the fried skin, the addictive mix of crispy on the edges, tender on the interior, greasy fat giving way to juicy meat…maybe if you ate quick enough you could get a bit more than a dozen, maybe some fries too…and you felt a tent in your tight work pants.

Your brain scrambled to rationalize the errant reaction. You’re tired, maybe you had an involuntary dick flex, almost like you were sleeping. You rubbed your eyes again and blinked enough to try and focus on the screen again. 20 minutes, then you could get lunch. 19 minutes….

That day, you came back from lunch 15 minutes late with a sauce stain on your collar.

The second time (that you noticed, anyway) felt more like a pattern of behavior.

You were glancing at your fridge, as you’ve made a habit of recently, trying to find something to eat. You were eating out more often at work, and you had to stop burning money on takeout, but you felt like your groceries weren’t quite stretching as far as you’d like anymore.

You opened the fridge door and saw the last two frozen pizzas. A thought entered your mind, one that felt unfamiliar. Could always just eat two pizzas. Gotta go shopping tomorrow anyway. Not giving yourself a moment to reconsider, you slid them out and plopped them on the counter.

That wasn’t what took you over the edge, though. That wasn’t what made you this way.

Waiting for the oven to preheat, you fell back on your fridge gazing habit. A second thought entered, much like the first. If I’m going shopping, might as well use the rest of the lunch meat too. Before you realized, you already had the sandwich made and half eaten. You just licked your lips clean when the pizzas finished up, and you were suddenly hit with the smell of them - cheap, greasy cheese, fatty pepperoni…you could imagine the way the soft, lightly browned crust would collapse like a pillow in your mouth, the almost saccharine pizza sauce tempering the salty cheese and meat…and your dick chubbed up at the idea. Something about the sight of those two pizzas, all for you…it excited you.

You ate those pizzas so fast they nearly burned the roof of your mouth.

From then on, things were different. You weren’t focused at work, but you reveled in the opportunity to try new food in the city. Your work clothes were barely fitting, and you even had to size up once or twice already, but you thrived in those lunch breaks…you stopped coming back from lunch late not from eating any less, but eating faster. It became like a game to you. How much food could you experience in 30 minutes? You’d order an appetizer, a couple entrees, maybe a dessert for the walk back, and got there immediately to savor every bite. And in between, you’d fantasize about it. The rich, creamy sauces, the crispy, crunchy bread, the salty, savory meat, the sweet, rich cakes. You stopped caring so much that it was strange that it excited you like it did.

Forget a hobby, eating was your real full time job, the one you spent your time planning and day-dreaming about.

It stretched into your free time, too - you’d find places to get food on the way home, and spend the commute imagining how those flavors would play together. It didn’t even matter if it was particularly masterful - every meal was delicious, filling, exciting to you.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before you mixed your pleasure with your passion.

You were pent up. Sure, you had your profile on the dating apps, but you’d already updated your profile picture once, showing your fuller, flabbier face, and the connections already began to dry up. And with your new interest, you had an even fatter face to meet them with now, not to mention the bloated, overstuffed body you had along with it.

You were jerking off to some amateur porn when something flashed in your mind…melty, gooey cheese. Then, the rich whipped cream of a tiramisu. You never thought to actually do it yet, like…you could enjoy yourself, but the moment you actually tried to mix the two, it was real and you couldn’t turn back. Still, that night you were feeling particularly indulgent, and you had made a habit of acting on indulgence already.

You sat back up, walked to the kitchen, rummaging through your mostly empty fridge again, and found a mostly full bottle of whipped cream you had knocked over in the back. Simple, sugary, one handed. You plopped your thickened ass onto the couch and started stroking, with the other hand working the nozzle of the can.

Stroke. Spray. Stroke. Spray. You got caught in the rhythm of it, and in moments all the sensations blended together, like a well balanced dish. Mouth full. Sated. Cloying sweet cream. Fat coating your mouth. Stroke. Sticky fingers. Rolling your tongue, feeling the cream deflate in your mouth. Stroke. Sugar. Fat. Sweet. Decadent.

Shot.

Your relationship with food had finished changing, and left you with a gluttonous, decadent body to show for it.

You knew it was irreversible when you had finally gotten a message from one of the apps, a simple ‘hey’ flourishing into a spirited conversation about your (former) interests and hobbies.

Then, he asked the question. “Wanna go out tonight?”

You had already begun the daily ritual, scrolling through the pickup spots and settling on your favorite Thai place for pickup on the way home - you could get some pad Thai, their chicken satay, maybe a couple orders of dumplings and some sticky rice. The tang of the sauce, the silky noodles, the crunchy spring of the bean sprouts.

“Sorry, busy tonight.”

#story #wg #fat #xwg #weight gain #gaining #short story

[reedrfeedr]

story - pop the cherry

(a little vignette about growing outward in every direction. contains: weight gain, muscle growth, dick growth.)

It starts, of course, with your gut.

Just a little at first, like you’re bloated, your belly puffing out and making you look filled in, ’what have you been eating lately’ sized, starting with the round curve at the top and spreading down, those burgeoning love handles getting more grabbable, that overhang going from perky and rounded to starting to sag over your waist just a little…then it starts to fill in past the point of a bloat. The space between your love handles and your tit-shelf (did you even have one of those before?) starts to fill out, mounding and puffing outward before collapsing into a generous roll on each side, dividing the top half of your chest from the bottom where your belly is still oozing outward in every direction.

You never needed to define the size of your body so granularly, but then you’ve never been quite this fucking massive.

Your chest, or maybe more accurately your tits now, have kept pace too, and how could you miss them - especially now that they occupy the bottom of your view now, stretching out wide and deep, terminating in two large, wide areolas perfect for sucking.

Your gut is no pushover either though, and grows out and down past the view of your tits, a massive wall of flesh now, somehow equally soft and doughy as much as it is round and imposing, stretching far down your…longer torso?

It’s almost hard to tell from your perspective, especially because you’ve been filling in faster than than you have space to fill, but you’re definitely growing taller now, too. Your belly has grown from a paunch to a wall of flab stretching upward and outward, keeping some structure as it fills in your enlarging frame.

You start to feel it, a feeling you’ll eventually have to get used to - you’re starting to feel like you’re taking up too much of the room. the ceiling seems to shrink underneath your growing frame, and the interior space seems to feel more suffocating with each passing moment as you’re growing in three dimensions, almost exponentially.

It’s hard to take everything in at once, but the rest of you has plumped up to match. Your hands feel massive, ending in thick sausage fingers that stretch further than they used to. (Much better for grabbing what ‘a mouthful’ of food is for you now.) They’re attached to thick, plump forearms, but it’s your upper arm that’s received the most explosive growth - a massive ham-hock slab of fat and muscle, two bowling ball biceps hauling a thick, sturdy layer of flab - just enough give to feel a bit of softness before you reach the firm wall of muscle underneath, carrying it all.

Your other appendages haven’t lost pace either - two giant, girthy thighs stuffed with fat and muscle are holding you up now, almost thick enough to impair your movement, with just the right mix of fat and muscle to haul the body you inhabit around while still having enough soft, suffocating plush to smother anyone between your thighs, not that there’s much room left between them now.

Your dick, as if catching up to your growth elsewhere, has grown too, a thick, fat cock stretching outward that doesn’t look dwarfed by the rest of you as much as the rest of you making it look ‘normal’ until you’re face to face with the actual bulk of it, with a generous few inches sunken into fat pad - just like everywhere else, an ample layer of fat only partially obscuring the muscle, anchored by a thick, heavy, hanging sack of fat nuts.

You can feel your growth settling down, feel your hunger start to take over for your continued growth, and even at your towering mass you still feel it’s not enough yet. Your bigger than you thought possible, furniture wrecking, hole destroying, room filling, ‘biggest guy in the room’ securing, crush smothering, ‘let me finish that’ earning body is yours and you want more.

#weight gain #xwg #body growth #dick growth #story #wg #fat

[reedrfeedr]

story - big bear

(A new roommate has a draining effect on your life. Size theft, weight gain, reality alteration, furry. Buckle up, this is my first longer story.)

(CW: some disturbing imagery, degradation)

“Guess I should have known it was you when I felt the ground shake, big guy.” Aster remarks, shuffling their way in with a handful of bags.

You move out of the way and let them in.  “How was the flight?”

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. Thankfully I’m not super tall so they’re not as cramped as it would be for you.”

You met online, and though the initial interest was about your belly and your appetite, you quickly formed a friendship playing games together and watching movies.  Though they could be a bit of a fanboy at times, you liked their friendly company and didn’t mind the positive attention, even if you weren’t all that interested in them romantically. So, when they finished up college and needed a place to stay for a while to get their next steps together, you were a natural fit.  And thankfully, they had rent money saved up for a while, so you didn’t expect them to be much of a drain or anything.

They drop their bags and lean in for a hug. “It’s good to finally meet you in person.  And…fuck, I’m going to say it. You’re definitely bigger in person.”

You chuckle, having gotten used to hearing it.  They weren’t wrong either. Your bear stature made you a fair amount taller than their more diminutive bat proportions, but those differences really get accentuated by how fucking fat you are. A pair of massive thighs, doughy slabs with just the hint of thigh roll near your crotch, a double wide, loveseat filling backside, just below a great, heavy gut-love-handle roll - spilling over your tits in a wide, round, filled teardrop shape, with a set of heavy tits sitting on your sloping belly, arcing around your sides and fighting for space with your arm fat, crowned with a greedy, sunken bear snout smothered by a ring of chin fat, not a neck in sight.  When they lean in for a hug they have to lean over the arc of your belly fat and rest their head into the top of your gut. 

You hear your gut grumble, and responding to its command you prompt “you hungry?” They smile, having felt the rumble just being pressed against you.

Maybe it was those bear genes that kept you with an appetite like you were about to hibernate, ballooning up in weight after college, so thankfully you love the feeling of getting fatter - seeing your massive form set yourself even further apart from your smaller, less dedicated peers, feeling like an entirely different type of beast with the mountains of food you can put away, and the increasing area you take up and keep warm like a space heater. You love being big.

“I’m sure you are, big bear.” You blush a bit despite yourself. As much as you hate to admit it, you love being fat for an audience.

Aster drops their bags in the entry, walks over to the couch, and slumps into it.  They are a little chubby, not nearly as fat as you, but with a fair level of softness packed onto their squat frame - a little pot belly and a chest that sticks out only a little from their shirts atop a curvy set of thighs. “Know any good places?”

“…and an order of potstickers - wait actually two orders - yeah that’s everything now.” Staring at the menu while ordering from the neighborhood Chinese place always makes you get a bit more - you’d say you don’t need it, but it’s hard to find an amount of food that will keep you sated for any length of time lately.

Before long the food gets delivered, and you bend over to grab one of the bags with a huff. “Lemme help you with that!” Aster excitedly hops off the couch to grab the rest, lured by the sound of an oversized bear overexerting himself.

You take a heavy breath from the effort of bending over.  “Th…” you wheeze, waddling back over to the couch and dropping your fat ass with a slam and a creak into the pair of crushed cushions that make up your usual spot. You're still open mouth breathing, but now you manage to eke out a “thanks,” finally.

It takes a few minutes to get everything unpacked, but before long you’re shoveling fried rice down the hatch with an egg roll in your other hand for novelty. You haven’t had a roommate before, and it’s…hard for you to hold back when eating nowadays.

Aster’s mouth is agape for a moment before they try focusing their attention on their single order. They poke at their food with a set of chopsticks. “You’ve ever had this before?”

“Actually no, I haven’t tried that. Any good?” You glance at their food with the same hungry, glazed over glare you gave after you settled on this place. “Mind if I try some?” 

Not waiting for an answer, you reach a hungry set of chopsticks over and grab a large morsel, stuffing it into your mouth before grabbing another bite to hold onto while you’re chewing before you catch yourself getting carried away. You manage a mumbled “sorry” through a mouthful of food.

Aster chuckles. “It’s fine, really. I probably won’t even finish this anyway.” They poke at their container again. “Man, I WISH I could put it away like you. I’ve been wanting to get fatter but it feels like I never have the appetite to really push myself.”

Your subconscious taking it as an invitation, you grab another oversized piece from their order and shove it in your mouth. “Maybe my bear appetite will rub off on you.”

They snort. “Hope so.”

You grab the last of the potstickers you were meant to share. “So, what’s the plan for you?”

“I’m hoping I find some work close by - anything will do for now, but maybe I’ll get something in programming and put my degree to use. I don’t want to be a burden on you or anything.” They take a small bite, “damn, it’d be a dream to get a work from home job like you. Then maybe I could REALLY get fat.”

“No reason to be in office if all you’re doing is sitting on your fat ass all day coding, right?”

“…right.” Aster picks at their food again.

🌒QUARTER

Heavy footfalls. 

Feet in mud.  

Paced intake of air. 

Running. 

Something coming. 

Flushed face. 

Cold wind bracing. 

Ragged breathing. 

Ducking through trees. 

Strides shortening. 

Head throbbing. 

Erratic gasps. 

Terrified. 

It’s approaching. Turn to look. Darkness. Moment of respite. Warm breath on shoulder. 🌒

You awake from the soreness of your back - maybe you need a new bed, you think as you heft yourself into a sitting position. “Or less gut to carry around.” You mumble to yourself, mockingly. You chuckle.

You groggily rub your neck as you get a look at yourself in the mirror - you tend to sleep naked because you overheat - and take stock of your appearance. You’ve been trying to eat a lot and ignore the scale so you don’t get discouraged with your gains. 

Though you aren’t as tall as some of your family, you still have a decent bit of that bear height, with thick, broad thighs, and a even layer of muscle from hauling all your bulk around, framing a soft, plush fat pad with a pretty substantial dick accenting the center. Above it sits a generous orb of a gut hanging off your wide torso, a perky set of tits bulging out, and your wide face with just a hint of heck underneath the slope of your chin, not quite folding over.

Ever since Aster moved in you’ve been trying to keep up with their eating, but they can really pack it away, especially now that they’ve moved out of their dorm and can smoke weed freely.  During a particularly drunk and horny night for them, they even said they wanted to ‘bury the rest of it’ in six months. You get kind of nervous at the idea that unless you really up the ante, they’re going to catch up to your size and then some. 

The thought makes your belly grumble.

You enter the room to the sound of a gurgling, bubbling sound and a hacking cough. “Hey, big bear.” They cough again and clear their throat. “Wanna get like, a fuckton of breakfast?”

“Hell yeah.”

You can’t help but stare while holding a forkful of pancake to your mouth watching them eat ravenously. You could’ve swore they were noticeably smaller than you when they moved in, but in just a few weeks you’ve never seen them not overstuffed and bloated, like they’ve spent every second here consuming and growing ever larger. They’re pretty tall for a bat, not looking too out of place next to you, but they were certainly filled in - a set of fat tits that put yours to shame, sagging and mounding on a big, doughy, flabby belly, fresh with angry red stretch marks, with rolls accentuating their sides and folding into their wide love handles, smothering their flabby, cellulite pocked thighs. And you were always jealous of their almost comically hanging double chin smothering any hope of a neck on the fat bat, which they had even when you looked at pictures of them mid-college when they were smaller.  Even their cheeks were puffy and jowly, giving them a rotund, fat all over appearance, like they’ve never done an ounce of work in their life, working overtime wobbling as they shoved a mound of syrup and butter drenched pancake into their greedy mouth.

Not bothering to fully swallow, they remarked, “can’t keep up with me if you don’t eat, bear.”

“Y’know, for a bat, you eat like a pig,” you scoff, stubbornly shoving the entire mound in your mouth in one go, giving you chipmunk cheeks. “It’s a good thing you’re hot.”

“You kidding me, bear? I’m stuffing my face so I can look HALF as hot as you do - GOD I can’t wait to get to your size,” they licked their lips, looking you up and down for just a moment before scraping the rest of the food off their third plate.

“I dunno, for being a mutual gainer-roommate situation I feel like you’re doing most of the gaining lately,” you grab the syrup to top off the pancake for good measure.

They chuckle. “Lately I swear I’ve been eating like I’m preparing for hibernation. It feels like it’s never enough.”

“That’s just the weed talking. Just don’t feel the urge to take a drink of my neck when you get hungry.” You poke at the remaining chunk of pancake.

“HEY. That’s offensive.” They smirk. “See, this is why you need a double chin, protect that neck with a nice layer of blubber,” they let out a burp and slap their chest, rippling their tit-fat. “Say, you gonna finish that?”

🌓 WAXING

ＹＯＵ　ＦＥＥＬ　ＩＴ’Ｓ　ＴＥＥＴＨ　ＳＩＮＫ　ＩＮＴＯ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＦＬＥＳＨ　ＹＯＵ　ＤＩＤ　ＮＯＴ　ＫＮＯＷ　ＹＯＵ　ＣＯＵＬＤ　ＦＥＥＬ　ＦＲＯＭ　ＩＮＳＩＤＥ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＳＫＩＮ　ＩＴ　ＨＡＳ　ＭＯＲＥ　ＦＩＤＥＬＩＴＹ　ＴＨＡＮ　ＡＮＹＴＨＩＮＧ　ＹＯＵ　ＥＶＥＲ　ＦＥＬＴ　ＥＶＥＮ　ＷＨＥＮ　ＴＨＥ　ＯＴＨＥＲＳ　ＵＳＥＤ　ＴＯ　ＴＯＵＣＨ　ＹＯＵ　ＡＮＤ　ＡＤＭＩＲＥ　ＹＯＵ　ＦＥＥＬＩＮＧ　ＴＨＥＭ　ＲＩＰ　ＹＯＵ　ＡＰＡＲＴ　ＹＯＵ　ＷＡＩＴ　ＦＯＲ　ＴＨＥ　ＭＯＭＥＮＴ　ＷＨＥＮ　ＴＨＥ　ＬＩＭＢ　ＤＩＳＣＯＮＮＥＣＴＳ　ＦＲＯＭ　ＷＨＡＴ　ＣＯＮＳＴＩＴＵＴＥＳ　ＹＯＵ　ＷＨＥＮ　ＴＨＥＹ　ＥＸＰＯＳＥ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＩＮＳＩＤＥＳ　ＴＨＥＹ　ＵＮＤＥＲＳＴＡＮＤ　ＹＯＵ　ＩＮ　Ａ　ＷＡＹ　ＴＨＥ　ＯＴＨＥＲＳ　ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＣＯＵＬＤ　ＴＨＥＹ　ＡＤＭＩＲＥ　ＹＯＵ　ＩＮ　Ａ　ＷＡＹ　ＴＨＥ　ＯＴＨＥＲＳ　ＣＡＮＮＯＴ 🌓

You wake up feeling nauseous. You can’t tell if your nightmare was due to the bad stomach feeling bubbling up all night or just feeling discouraged, but it puts you in a bad mood all the same. You slump out of bed and stagger to the mirror to splash some water in your face and move on with your day. 

God, you wish you were bigger.

You stare at your own groggy, lanky face, and follow it as it looks down - you were always pretty stout for a bear, and though it should make things easier trying to grow a belly, you’ve never seemed to get too far, and your job lifting shipping boxes all day probably doesn’t help either. At least it keeps your toned arms from looking lanky, placed between a chubby, domed pot belly and a set of beginner tits that stick out only a little from your shirts. At least your thighs are curvy for your size, between them a dick on the shorter side that’d be a shower if there were much to show. At least it’ll be easy to bury, you sigh, if I could manage to pack on anything.

You stumble into the living room and remember why your stomach feels so sour - the smell of stale pizza and weed fills your nostrils, and the view of empty pizza boxes and the mound of fat that is your roommate Aster comes into view. You remember getting really high with them (your tolerance is nowhere near as high as theirs) and trying to stuff yourself like them, pushing to match their consumption. Your memory is a bit hazy, but you remember groaning about being full at about half of a large pizza and having them finish it for you.

“I’m getting takeout, you want anything? I’m fucking starving.” They remark, fiddling with a bag of chips to hold them over in the meantime, having to grunt and wheeze to heft their bulk into a seating position to reach. 

“I’m sure you are, fat bat.” Simply put, they were massive.  Almost freakishly tall for a bat, you remember being taken aback by their size when they moved in - you figured from pictures and their species that they would be fat as hell, sure, but you didn’t expect them to be so…scaled up to match.  So when they embraced you for a hug you were almost startled by how your head didn’t reach up past theirs, nestling into their flabby wall of chest fat, flanked on both sides by heavy tits that equally stuck out from the rest of them and mounded up on their even bigger belly, almost doubling over in rolls growing from their sides and tracing to their back, their fat ham-arms smothering you in their embrace, almost drowning you in blubber. 

“Like you DON’T want to see me get fatter, big bear,” - they grab a big pawful of chips from the bag - “tacos?”

You were surprised that they even messaged you back in the first place - you remember them mentioning that they needed a place to stay for a bit because a previous roommate situation fell through, and that they had a cushy work from home job so rent wouldn’t be an issue, so you dropped a comment about having an extra room, not knowing whether they’d bother responding to some follower. You were always a fan of seeing them blow up over time, and they were a big inspiration to making you wanna get fatter yourself. 

“You just gotta bring up those portion sizes over time, but don’t overdue yourself.” Aster stuffs a street taco in their mouth and gets a gulp of horchata - “no use stuffing yourself if you can't eat for a day or two afterward.” They let out a low, growling burp after parting the cup from their lips, “sure you don’t want any?” They add, halfheartedly, only a couple half eaten tacos remaining in the last opened box of takeout containers next to the stack of five now empty, closed ones.

“I’m fine.” You try and scoot away uncomfortably from their warm, sweaty flesh, though it’s hard when they take up two of the three cushions of the couch - not to mention how they spread out once they start eating, almost like they’re trying to consume the rest of the space between you two. Normally, being pressed up against their whale-sized body is a turn-on, even if it’s by accident, but right now you still feel sick and small and envious.

They let out another sharp, loud burp as their meaty hands grab the two remaining tacos and stuff them in their mouth in one bite greedily. “You’d think those bear genes would help you bulk up, but maybe you just haven’t grown into them yet. You’re still too small for a bear.”

You pout, and now that Aster’s done eating for now, they feel the awkward energy in the room from their heavy words. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re already fat and you’re gonna get even bigger, big bear.”

“Yeah-huh.” At first their nickname for you was endearing, even encouraging, but after a few weeks you’ve started to feel it weigh down on you shamefully, like clothing you can’t fit into anymore.  The gulf between you two just feels impossible to ignore - how much they put away every meal, how much more space they take up (they have to be at least twice your size at this point, maybe more) - you can’t help but feel you’re losing progress to them, even when you’re just standing still, treading water on your gains.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you too much last night - I just really do want you to get fatter.” They try and bring the cup to their lips again but you can only hear ice crunching as it rolls down. “God, I wish you could just…take a bit of this. Not like I’d even notice much.” They give a belly laugh, only managing to jiggle the top of their belly and tits as their love handles and overhang sit heavily.

“That would certainly be nice. I just want to know what I’d look like if I were as big as you,” you say, gripping your gut that feels so tiny in your hands, especially sitting next to them - “I feel like that would push me to really stuff myself. Maybe even catch up one day.”

“I’m sure you’d be - I’m sure you’re GONNA be fucking huge, big bear.”

🌕 FULL

˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥˙llıɟ sʇı ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇsɐǝq ǝɥ⊥ 🌕

You grunt as your alarm goes off. Sitting up is rough on your back; the divot in the couch from where Aster sits in the center is deep enough to make your sleeping position kind of awkward. You sigh, hopping up and making your way to the bathroom for your morning piss before they wake up and end up stationary for most of the day in the living room - there’s not much room for you on the couch anyway. 

You fish your dick out of your boxers - you’re not even a third the size of your roommate, but you still gotta aim your tiny dick over your balls to reach the toilet. Fuck, why do you gotta deal with fat pad problems without even having a fat pad? It’s not fair. 

You wipe the sleep from your eyes and stare at yourself before washing your face - you look almost malnourished, especially for a bear. Your gaunt face with baggy eyes stares back at you, looking down to your skinny-fat torso, a trace of loose fat just barely sagging off your stomach, under a flat chest, with lanky little legs holding it all up.  At least you’re not tall, like a bear should be, or your unsubstantial frame would be even more stretched thin.

You didn’t think you could ever get really fat - your metabolism and lack of appetite made sure of that - but you’d always wanted to at least be a little filled in. At least feel a bit more bear sized, even if you couldn’t reach up into the trees like your ancestors could. But it’s made even more impossible when living with a hedonistic glutton like them, the kind who swipes food off your meager plate for the crime of not eating it fast enough.

You walk out to the living room and they’re already there, sitting on their makeshift throne, love handles nearly touching the arms on each side - you figure it won’t be long before they have to replace it, but you can’t tell whether they’ll outgrow it or break it to the point of un-usability first. “Hey, big bear,” they coo mockingly, “gimme my donuts.”

“Shit, right.” You don’t know when it happened, but a couple months in and you’re their de-facto feeder when they want more food and don’t want to heft their fat ass off the couch - something which happens often and never, increasingly. 

It started off innocently enough - you needed a place to stay, stat, and they had a spare couch, and you had some shared interests in games and frequented a lot of the same interest spaces. But when you got there, you actually saw them - the biggest, most overfed, largest bat you’ve ever seen - their massive, triple chin adorned head reaching up for the ceiling, and head to toe just caked with fat. Seeing them for the first time took your breath away, and not just because when they came in for a hug they pressed their gut into you with so much momentum it knocked the wind out of you. Their belly spread out in every direction like a massive sack of trash, with two shapeless mounds of tit fat that felt almost as large piled on top, and thick fucking thighs that matched, with a couch smothering ass that didn’t find a piece of furniture it couldn’t make groan. They were clearly getting off on it too, constantly ordering more food and moaning and burping between mouthfuls as you sat in a rickety, broken chair they’d long outgrown next to them - it was fucking disgusting at first, but there was also something unrepentantly confident about it, that they were so eager to be the biggest fucking pile of fat. 

You had no idea how a bat could get that big, that fat - you’d heard before how bats could actually drink from other animals, and how rich and nutritious that would be for them, but that was just a rumor, and doesn’t explain the sheer height and size difference between you two. 

You hadn’t quite lined up a job yet, so they offered to let you stay without rent in exchange for taking care of the house - cleaning up the piles of takeout containers, washing dishes, that kind of thing. But it quickly escalated to taking care of them - making food runs, getting the door and hauling in the bags of food from delivery drivers - ‘is that for you?’ Nope. It was degrading, but there was something about them that demanded it, almost expected it, and you were too weak to say no. You didn’t know if you even could. 

“Here.” You drop the extra dozen donuts and a carton of heavy cream you had purchased with last night’s food run on their belly shelf - the coffee table was a bit too far to reach for them without sitting up - “this should hold you until the delivery gets here.”

Messily, they begin shoving entire donuts in their mouth. Not missing a beat, mouth full, they bark “Now suck me off.”

“…W-what?” You stammer nervously, already starting to sweat - from their space heater effect on the room or from your flushed embarrassment, you can't tell.

“Suck me off, shrimp.” They make the massive effort to heft their ass off the couch and pull down their boxers before spreading open their legs - you expected to see a buried nub; you know fat guys lose some length when they get fat, and they were the fattest person you’ll ever see, so you at least felt some kinship in the size department between you and their assumed size. But to your surprise, their dick is fucking massive - at least as big as the rest of their frame feels compared to you, engorging and growing thick and heavy, pushing out from their generous fat pad, flush with color against the flabby walls of their thighs. They don’t stop eating. 

Somewhere deep down, you don’t want them to waste all those calories pulling down their boxers for nothing. Your breathing gets short, and you lose the words to disagree.

You crawl up to their feet - even at this position, with the sagging couch, their ass fat raises their crotch area at right about eye level for you - and gingerly open your mouth and start trying to surround their cock head.

Just as your lips press against it, they grab your head and shove it in, and you choke from the sudden mouthful of meat, desperately getting the coordination to breathe through your nose as they begin face fucking you. 

They burp from the effort, and resume taking mouthfuls of donut dough into their mouth as they taunt “you’re really short for a bear, aren’t you?” Crumbs start rolling on top of you as you begin to move your head to the rhythm. “Scrawny too. You need some meat on your bones.” 

They shove another donut in their mouth. “God, you’re fucking pathetic - serving a fucking whale that you’re supposed to be bigger than.” They lick their lips. “You’ll never be as fat as me, even if you wanted to. Even if you spent your whole life trying to get there.” They take a chug of heavy cream from the carton. “I can’t even imagine what you’d look like with an actual gut, wimp.” 

You feel absolutely claustrophobic, trying to focus on your breathing as their massive dick presses into your throat. You’re trying to do more of the work for them but your mouth is already full.  Their thighs are rhythmically pulsing with each thrust, wobbling and slapping against your cheeks as fat slaps against you, then continues pressing into you until your head feels like it’s being crushed for just a moment before the wave flops back, unsticking from your face from sweat before repeating the process. It’s dark from their fat pad consuming the space above their dick, bulging out and pressing into you softly but heavily, and your head is held in place by their overhang now - so close you can almost hear those donuts churning into more fat, more bulk to smother and suffocate you with.

“This?” They slap their belly, the shockwave almost knocking you back - “I deserve all this. I fucking earned it.” Their chuckle reverberates through the fat pressing against you. “And you deserve to serve me, shrimp. I’m gonna use you to get even fucking fatter, suck every last drop of effort out of you making me as big as I want.” 

They let out another wall rattling belch. “And you’re gonna love it too, you little fucking simp. You’re going to love stuffing this greedy fucking belly even fatter, even more drastically bigger than your weak, poor little body. “

They are thrusting even harder now. Even at their weight, the size difference between you two means that every thrust feels powerful and forceful against your light frame, choking and slurping as you try and pinch your little dick to jerk off despite yourself. Maybe they are right. It just feels natural being underneath them, working on making them even fatter and more powerful compared to them. You wish you could be even smaller compared to them so they could feel that much bigger, you wish you could have been fatter, so that they could have somehow taken that from you too. In that moment, you loved feeling so small.

“I like having you around, shrimp.” They throw a donut in their mouth. “Makes me feel big.” They pop a donut in their mouth. “Makes me feel fat.” They shove a donut in their mouth. “Makes me feel powerful.” They press a donut into their mouth. “I normally get off to how much of a fat fuck I am, but now I have something to compare to.” They drop another donut into their mouth. “Maybe I’ll let you stick around for a while.” They let out a monstrous, guttural belch, and put the last donut in their mouth. “And you’ll get to keep serving me,” an unsteady huff from them, “just..."

Like...

This.

Your mouth starts to fill with their seed as you start to choke again, having no choice but to try and gulp it down as you cough and gag in your mouth. As your dick manages a little spurt to match, you wonder if this fat fucking pile of lard’s cum is more calorie rich than you’ve had in a while, and you wonder if it’s a waste going inside a wimp like you.

Above you, you hear them grunt and snarl with satisfaction as the doorbell rings. They toss the empty box of donuts to the side and rub another burp out of their belly. “Good timing. Clean yourself up and go get the food for me. I’m still hungry, big bear.”

#weight gain #weight theft #size theft #size difference #story #wg #xwg #reality alteration #degredation #furry

[reedrfeedr]

story - first kiss

(watch out for size-stealing kisses)

You're roughly the same size when you mutually lean in for a kiss, at first.

Your bellies squish into each other, fighting for space, fat faces compressing, lips and tongue dancing together, the two bodies already beginning to warm up from the skin to skin touch.

It feels so fucking good to finally feel him against you, your bodies embracing by consuming the space between them, his warmth and softness actually vast enough to cover most of the space you take up. Your arms reach as far as they can and grasp the back of his love handles.

He's just as lazy as the body he's earned, but it feels like he's starting to lean into you, his weight feeling a little more smothering than it did a few seconds ago. It drives you wild, & you press back against it with your bulk, trying to take back the non-existent free space.

But he feels like an immovable wall against you, a right earned from his immense body. You thought your own bulk would serve as decent leverage, but you only feel a slight yielding from his soft torso as you press back. It feels like the edges of his belly surround you.

Feeling his weight makes you dig your fingers into the edges of the sides of his love handles - he feels so immense, it's like you're struggling to reach around every inch of him. His warmth feels intoxicating.

You pull away from him, and a set of fat cheeks looks back at you. You swear they're even bigger, but you've never been this close to his face before. His hot breath seems to fog your vision, and his hazy visage just puts into perspective how much he's made of round, soft shapes.

You feel like you're nuzzled into him, which is a difficult feeling to feel when you're as big as you are. You feel like you're looking up at him dotingly, and before you have any other thoughts you smash your lips into his fat pillow of a face, and make a soft landing.

Another long kiss that lasts forever and not long enough, another pull back to admire him, and you notice it. You're looking up at him. You first looked eye to eye, but now his face looks distorted from this new angle, sunken eyes peering down over plump cheeks, his features accentuated in shadow, double chin wider in perspective.

Or maybe his double chin is just wider. His features look stretched from before the first kiss to now, but he just feels....big. Bigger. You feel the way his gut completely surrounds you, like his sides could stretch on forever past your reach.

Even without him pressing into you for a kiss, his tits feel like they could drown you in fat, and the thought briefly scares you. Your hands feel like they're swimming in his love handles, fingers reaching, only pinching the front edge of them now.

He kisses you again.

Another kiss is almost enough to induce a fit of amnesia, to forget those changing details, but not quite. You start to notice it now. You feel him getting even bigger, his face increasingly craning down to reach your lips, his big, warm, pudgy hands feeling larger pressed into your smaller, lither frame, overstuffed digits pressing into yielding flesh.

You try and push back, and his massive body doesn't yield, but he senses your discomfort and backs off anyway. You're craning your neck to see him. He feels so fucking big.

You feel so fucking dwarfed, nestled against him.

"It's been a long time since you've felt small, hasn't it?"

#weight #weight gain #fat #short story #story #xwg #romance #wg #size theft #weight theft #size difference

[reedrfeedr]

oh hey, it's my tweet. glad to see it's inspired such decadence

Story - Advice; Stay small!!

“Man, wouldn’t it be really hot if you got unrecognizably fat and permanently turned yourself into a lardass?

you should do it”

No.

Trust me you don’t. Suddenly you’ll wake up and bam you’ll be as fat as me. You’ll need a bar just to pull your morbid obese body out of it’s bed and the only reason you’ll ever want to get up is to head to the kitchen to find something greasy, lard filled to ease your stomach from it’s excessive rumbling. Yeah, that double chin you’d used to feel only when you’d lean your head forward was just always there now and your rolls on the back of your head will become fat enough to slide a credit card through. You’ll struggle to stand yet alone walk with all the balance-wrecking sacks of lard you have to carry around. You’ll get tired from just having to prop your huge body up in the kitchen waiting for the microwave to “ding.” As you do so, you’ll see a unopened packet of Oreo’s on the worktop, and you’ll snatch them greedily like someone else might steal them….even though you’re in your own apartment. You’ll develop the “fat guy” habit of rubbing his huge belly as he eats. It’ll become a new default for you, and it’s embarrassing especially when you’re out in public. You’ll struggle to stand in such a obese body, as you weight for the food in the kitchen you’ll eventually give in to the throbbing pain of standing and perch your gargantuan ass on two stools (oh yeah because one is never enough for someone so fucking huge as me).

And don’t even get me started on sex life. Your type has to change, no chubby “I just started” gainer will want to fuck you, no, you have to make do with the sadistic insane fat-fuckers. You’ll ask a lot of them, I mean they’ll have to dig through your elephant-like thighs, your crotch fat and any other fat rolls which are sure to have grown from your excessive, uncontrollable eating. All whilst holding your bulging belly up. Never mind going to the gym, it’ll take a workout just to get you off!

So take it from me, you don’t want to get this fat. You don’t want to be at the stage I’m at, where no amount of fat you already have is enough. You always want to be just that but fatter, soon I’ll be immobile….but I won’t want to stop there.

[reedrfeedr]

New story available now! The Djinn.

As a Harvard freshman on a water polo scholarship, Elliot seems to have it all. But Elliot is plagued with shame and guilt over his secret lust for the massive fat guy in his math class. Then one night in a bar, he meets a stranger who grants his wish to end his suffering, but the consequences are far more than he could have ever imagined. Elliot soon learns that wishes come true…but they don’t come free.

Get it now on Amazon

[reedrfeedr]

story - catching up

You don't always stay the fatter one. (wg, some elements of humiliation)

Maybe we met online, you wanted help getting started, and I saw that drive that would help get you huge one day.

You didn't quite have the means to really pack it on but you did your best & got into skinny fat from your formerly slight frame.

You manage to land a sedentary work from home job that pays well enough, & it's exciting. You talk about being able to put on a ton of weight now. I hope you're right.

The first few pounds come on easily, & you start to fill out, crossing over into chubby. You love the changes.

You don't wanna stop. You wanted to get fat enough to be fat, but those habits have fully entrenched, and you just want to keep growing. You quietly adjust your goals, and your 'ideal shape' pictures you send me inch bigger and bigger over the months.

Maybe it's the net result of all those changes piling up, or just something inside you, but something clicks & you're suddenly stuffing your face constantly now, spending free time researching calorie bomb shakes to chug before bed, ordering multiple meals at once without shame.

You just start fucking blowing up.

It's hard to nail down your weight exactly because you keep weighing yourself when full, but your number keeps ticking up, and that keeps you eating, and it starts being pretty noticeable.

At first, it's hard to tell over the internet - is that a new tit roll or are you just sitting forward? - but in 3, 6, 12 months comparisons, it comes into focus. You must have been really pigging out, because you're starting to look like someone else.

Before, you saw what you looked like with some weight on you, but now you get to see what you look like as an obese, overstuffed version of yourself. You're growing so fast that you don't just look fat, you look too fat to your eyes - & you wanna make that even more noticeable.

Other people start to notice too - you can't place exactly when, but at a certain point your Twitter blows up just like your waistline - people start retweeting those weekly shots of you with a donut in your mouth that you've always taken. The angle didn't change, your body did.

You still keep growing, too - you're thoroughly leaving 'fat' and starting to inch into 'superchub', little by little. For now you're kind of in between, but everyone can see the trajectory you're headed in.

People know we talk and at least casually associate, and people start mentioning both of us in the same breath - the implication if not that we're the same size, than at least the same size class now. It feels weird to be put in the same bucket as someone you aspired to.

You never believed you'd get to this point at first - I dig out a couple of old photos you sent me before you blimped out (you didn't like taking pictures of yourself much then) for you to share around. You get the reputation of someone thoroughly committed to getting fatter.

Still growing. You make a porn account for the occasional high effort video that won't fit on Twitter anyway, and you make some money. It's not enough to completely supplant your food budget (you're much too gluttonous for that), but it makes it much easier to justify splurging.

You're getting close to my weight now, & feeling all the effects of piling it on so impatiently. It just makes you want it even more. You stuff yourself nearly sick as you close in - maybe I've had an illness and make an excuse that I'm not at my highest, but you're catching up.

I pack on the weight I lost and then some, but you're still growing consistently. You tease me about when you're gonna actually cross over and beat me - 3 months? A month? 6 months? Equally as likely with a (slow) moving target.

People notice that hedonistic drive. They start to ask you the same sorts of questions you used to ask me, as someone who's shown themselves so good at getting fat. They start to assume you're the bigger one - maybe you're a bit shorter, or just carry it a little differently.

You stop weighing yourself for a bit. That time estimate gets a little on the long side as you hit a plateau, and it's discouraging you and making you not want to stuff yourself as relentlessly as before, so in ignorance you push yourself to make the next weigh in a good one.

By the time you weigh yourself, I'm in another break, a little down from my new highest weight trying to keep up with your explosive growth, and it's definitive. You've got at least a couple dozen pounds on me now, and no reason to stop growing.

If you already looked fatter than me because of your body type before outweighing me, it's even more true now - every inch of you flares out with a layer of flab that's missing on me now, and you're still getting fatter.

Something clicks in you again - maybe it's outgrowing me, or just settling into the mindset of someone that heavy, but you get more demanding and greedy. You just want more, and why shouldn't you have it? You're clearly better at getting fat, you deserve the extra weight.

You're thoroughly superchub sized now. Your clip releases become more event like in the gaining community, you're a celebrity - you're massive and you did it so quick. You have the pictures to prove it.

You're bullying money out of me and teasing a visit you may not even bother making - you got at least a hundred pounds on me now, and you got plenty of hotter, fatter friends you wanna visit first anyway.

I'm just another fawning DM in your inbox about your latest picture & weight milestone - you get so many now - you look at my belly and can't even imagine being that small anymore. You think about how much better of a gainer you are - you gained twice the weight in 1/2 the time.

Every so often you humor a conversation & talk about all the sensations you get as a megachub, ask how much I can eat at once & put my appetite to shame, talk about how much money you get for a couple minutes of wobbling, & get off thinking about how I'll never be as fat as you.

#story #wg #weight gain #fat #xwg #humiliation

[reedrfeedr]

*hands you the fat furry tf weed*

happy late 4/20

"Yo, what's even in this?" you say, giggling as your glasses fill with smoke, making your dry eyes blurry. You always get hit hard with the...sativa? Indica? Can't remember which one is which.

"Fuck if I remember," he chuckles back, fumbling with the lighter as you hand him the bong. As you put up your hand to cough it obscures your vision more than you remember, so fuzzy...

You look up at your friend and he reminds you of that draw-over he commissioned, his cute frames peaking over the furry wolf sketched head. Is he in the same position? Same clothes? You can't place why it reminds you of it, but it's cute. "you look cute," you stammer, your mental censor weak.

"I feel so fuzzy," cough, "when I get high," he slightly chokes out, mind still catching up on whether you mumbled something or not.

"Me too," you reply. You feel warm against him. Were you always against him? You always feel like you take up more space when you're high.

"GOD I'm hungry," he blurts out, slightly too loud for the room. He's a fucking dork. He's fucking cute.

"Pizza sounds fucking good. Are they still open?" You have snacks here, but you feel big, and fuzzy, and a big hungry bear like you needs to eat.

#story #weight gain #tf #vingette

[reedrfeedr]

How to encourage your friends to get fatter

“What’s a good way to encourage friends to grow fatter? I wanna see some friends fill out nicely.” - @hazelcocky on Twitter

I occasionally get this question, and as someone who likes to encourage AND receives encouragement, I have a little perspective on what tends to work.

Appreciation

For one, point out the ways in which they are already big, and how much you appreciate their size, especially if they’ve gained some weight on purpose. Being pointed out features you appreciate, especially if they weren’t there before, can be super affirming. Point out the little details they might not notice, or the specific ways their body has changed as they’ve put on weight. Sometimes that outside perspective can help make those changes feel more real.

Encouragement

Though it can be hot, don’t treat their appetite as an inevitability, treat it as something to encourage. Sometimes it’s hard to find the energy to eat extra, or even at all, even when someone is already fat. Remind them of practical ways to have more food around. What kind of snacks do they like? Where do they spend most of their time that they can keep food around? Often, reducing the friction of having a snack can make a big difference in their intake, and it can be fun and playful to encourage that kind of thinking.

Goals

Instead of encouraging weight goals, remind them of more specific milestones that you or they want to achieve.

“I can’t wait to see your thighs close up that gap.”

”I wanna see your double chin swallow your neck.”

”Those rolls on your sides are just about to droop over your love handles.”

Seeing weight tick up slowly, or not at all, can be discouraging, so it’s important to also set goals that have strong imagery that is easier to focus on.

Pushing Limits

Instead of suggesting an amount of food to them that sounds like a lot to you (too much and it could discourage them, too little and you’re not pushing their limits), instead listen to how much they usually like to eat and try to push them to eat just a little more than normal. This requires paying more attention to what they eat, but shows more consideration to their limits, as well as setting manageable but expanded goals.

Your Voice

One other thing to note is that while going into the cliche 'encourager voice' can be horny, it's important to just be yourself, and not always give a performance. Encouraging can be goofy and fun and weird and flirty and playful, and that's okay!

Most importantly, it doesn’t have to be aggressive, or feel like a chore. Just keep it fun, with gentle reminders and playful encouragement. Keep them happy and in a state where they can think about indulgence more, because that’s ultimately what it’s all about, right?

#fat #weight gain #encouragement #essay

[reedrfeedr]

story - someone new

(You don't have to be yourself forever. CW: weight gain, humiliation)

I want to turn you into someone else.

Are you an adventurous type, someone who likes to stretch their legs and get out and move? What if I turned you into a reclusive shut in who prefers being comfortable on a couch because it's the only seat that still fits their massive ass, someone who hates going outside because standing isn't sustainable anymore? Someone who'd rather order in some garbage and mindlessly shovel it in while half watching youtube than spend it waddling around behind a group of people with far more energy than they'll ever have?

It's not just the end result that's hot to me.

Are you an introverted, shy type, someone who doesn't want to get in the way or be too noticed? What if instead you were a big brazen fat fuck, burping indiscriminately and crashing into people because you're never used to the size of your loud, constantly growing body? Someone who wears brash, ill fitting t-shirts with catch phrases like 'I'm fat let's party' and isn't afraid to demand more food when they want it?

It's the change from where you started and where you ended up.

Are you a confident, energetic type, someone who's charm endears everyone around you and who's magnetic personality keeps them engaged? What if you turned yourself into a mousy, lardassed gamer, spending hours playing impossibly complex tactical games with a pile of junk food always near your messy desk, uncouthly babbling details to your discord friends in between mouthfuls of empty calories, too shy to even show your sunken, double chin adorned face in your dim room through your webcam?

I like watching you grow unrecognizable.

Are you a subservient, doting little submissive? Someone who likes being told what to do? What if the last command you ever listened to was to become a fat spoiled tub of lard, too lazy to bother getting on your knees anymore, using your immense size to bully everyone smaller than you into keeping you stuffed and watching them do all the work you used to do so willingly?

I like watching you become someone old you would envy.

Are you a confident, strong top, someone who likes asserting their dominance and feeling powerful? What if I took that from you and replaced that with feeling out of control and weak instead, stuck with a recklessly indulgent food addiction, your proud cock buried under a pile of no self control, someone who reminisces about what they used to be as they let someone with a stronger will than you're left with take control, as you know it should be?

Because there's something powerful about taking control of who you are, isn't there?

Are you a clean, articulate person, careful to choose your words and present yourself? What if you became a big proud hog, stuffing yourself for the sheer pleasure of it as you snort with a hand down your pants because you've never told your body no to what it wants, deep down, because you're a pig and that's what pigs do.

There's something powerful about becoming who you really are.

#weight gain #tf #story #xwg #wg #fat

[reedrfeedr]

Your New Years Resolution: You should get really fat.

(a conversation on your impending weight gain revelation.)

I think I know you. At least, a part of you.

There's something within you that you like to hide. Maybe you only chat with people late at night about it. Maybe you flirt with local strangers occasionally but freak out when it comes to actual plans. Maybe you've never spoken to another soul about it.

Don't worry, I can keep a secret.

I see how you spend your time - ogling pictures of fat guys on Tumblr or Twitter, not of admiration but of envy. Imagining what it'd be like to feel that heavy and soft and BIG.  While you're busy, you daydream about your ideal feeder/feedee dynamic. Maybe it's sadistic, maybe it's doting and comforting, I won't judge.

But something stops you. That line between fantasy and the cold hard clinical reality, the one that your ‘regular’ interests have to fit into, the one where you have to face your friends and family and strangers in. And that fear of unknown splits your mind. You compartmentalize. You might feel weird even saying the word 'fat' in a positive way, your mouth has never uttered it like that.

Maybe you're waiting.

Career prospects need to line up first, you're waiting for that ideal partnership like you imagined in paragraph four, some nebulous sign to tell you NOW, okay, it's time to just fucking go for it.

And I'm really happy to tell you that this is your sign, right now.

You've been on the edge, but it will feel really good to give in, to allow yourself to pursue what you really want in life.

You don't know how people around you will react, but people get fat all the time, without trying. You can do it on purpose if you let yourself.  You may have other priorities in life but if you've read this far, you know how important it is to you. Shouldn't you be able to focus your efforts on what will make you happy?

This is just a stupid set of words on a stupid website, but you can give them power.

Here, let me help you.

There's going to be a sentence, and if you read it, you are committing to a life of gluttony just like you've always imagined. But don't read it if you're not ready - these words will have power because you will give them power, and I ask you not to take them lightly.

Are you ready? If you truly want to commit, say the next sentence aloud, even if just to yourself, under your breath.

I commit myself to indulgence, and I will grow fat.

Did you feel it? That tingle of getting what you want, those veils over what you're willing to do to achieve it, what is acceptable for how you think of yourself, start to open up?

Good.

Now, you haven't committed yet to a life of excess, because these are but words until they are reinforced with actions. This phrase is going to live in your mind, and it might take a bit, but as it grows you should start to feel the influence of your commitment take hold.

The next time where you have that moment, where your fantasy spills into reality, and you think what if I ordered twice the amount I usually do, or what if I just ate the rest of this or what if I got a shake on top of that - next time that errant thought enters your mind naturally, instead of pushing back, compartmentalizing, hiding if, instead reinforce it. When you do, that phrase engrained into your head becomes a little bit stronger, and it's not just a platitude, it's a commitment you're living up to.

When you find yourself at that crossroads and choose indulgence, you have made that commitment permanent in your mind. You will find that commitment growing larger just as your body will start to.

As you solidify that commitment into your lifestyle, I want you to comment that sentence below this post. Don't worry, people probably already see what kind of sizes you reblog anyway, it's a safe space here. But don't do it before, wait until you've backed up that promise with action, and you've already put yourself on a path towards making that statement a reality.

Then, a year or two from now you can look back on this post, hopefully with fond memories of turning that simple set of words from a stupid internet blog into reality, into permanent pounds affixed to your growing frame.

And isn't that what you really want?

#fat #weight gain #wg #gaining #essay?

[reedrfeedr]

story - the haze

(c'mon fatty, just another few pounds. CW: weight gain, humiliation, health issues)

I hate the in between.

The milestones are great. Even when you can't feel a difference between 399 and 400, something about those round numbers really feels satisfying to read back on a scale, the easily braggable numbers that roll off the tongue so effortlessly, (especially since I'm not one for over-exertion anyway.)

Seeing a few straight weeks of that digital readout tick upward compounds the satisfaction, the objective reality of those numbers reinforcing the nagging sensations you notice but can't verify, the oh fuck, I put on 16 pounds in like, a month. No wonder I feel really sore getting out of bed.

Suddenly, that errant thought of ‘wow, did my belly always stick out like that when I bend over?’ gets pulled violently into reality. Yes. You are that fucking fat now. Those little mental notes you've built up all crystallize at once, and it feels empowering to notice all that new weight you forced onto your frame on purpose affect you materially.

Yeah, that double chin you had when you leaned your head forward is just...always there now. All your shirts do that thing where it looks like your tits are sticking out because you just have big tits. Remember when you got lightheaded climbing that tiny hill, and had to do the whole 'hands on knees, bent over catching your breath' move? Yeah, turns out you're an out of shape fat guy, and that's about the extent of what you're capable of now. The soft pop your knees make when you haul yourself out of bed happens more often than not, and you're just gonna have to hold your breath while you tie your shoes from now on. This is the new default for you.

But then you just...get used to it.

Your completely shot stamina doesn't feel exhilarating anymore when you're late for work and oh god the fucking elevators aren't working, fuck, two flights is so goddamn exhausting, fuck, should I wait in the hall to catch my breath fuck that will just make me even more late-

It stops being a horny sign of progress when all your clothes don't fit and more of a massive inconvenience because what the hell are you going to wear out that doesn't make you look like a stuffed sausage, and even then, every over-sized tent shirt you gotta buy to hide your flab-wall is seemingly priced by the yard and there's a few extra yards to cover now. Not to mention each ever larger garment cuts into your growing food budget. Oh hey remember when three burgers were a treat and now you need three just to stop being hungry?

It's not as hot to struggle to get out of bed when you haven't eaten in 4 hours (you have the appetite of a big fat guy now, remember?) and the thought of even standing by the microwave to heat up some garbage sounds way too taxing. 

Maybe I should have attracted a feeder back when I was cute and chubby and not some overgrown fat needy dependent whale. Y'know, get them acquainted with the fat needy dependent whale you're gonna grow into first.

In that middle place, that haze of slowly struggling to eat more and not yet seeing the fruits of that labor, it's hard to stay on track. You don't feel fat and overstuffed anymore, you feel simultaneously too small and way too big, like all those sacrifices weren't even worth it because you're fat and out of shape and don't even feel fat. So you just

Kinda.

Mindlessly.

Eat.

For a while, because that's what you made yourself good at. You haven't checked the scale in...I dunno, a month or two, because why bother. You saw the number tick down once and your poor overworked heart can't take that number retreating again.  

But eventually you're curious.

You use your foot to slide your dusty scale out because bending over became untenable two or three milestones ago and you're afraid to see the number and it keeps jumping up and down and God this was a bad idea and you hear that shrill beep and-

Oh.

You're up 23 pounds.

You stare at the familiar, brand new doughy over-fed fat fuck staring back at you through the mirror.

Was that undermoob roll always so noticeable?

#fat #weight gain #xwg #wg #story #humiliation

[reedrfeedr]

If you like this tweet, you'll love the rest of my twitter tbh~

[reedrfeedr]

story - yeah, but,

(C’mon, don’t you wanna take the next step? CW: weight gain, health issues, humiliation)

Yeah, you're cute, but you don't want to just be a hot fat bear, do you? I bet you'd rather be the kind of fat fuck that gets those concern trolling health comments, a lardass who trades nudes for junk food, a fatty with what looks like a death wish.

Wouldn't you rather trade your tastefully bearded face for a piggish, sweaty, heavily cheeked one with a neckbeard that can't even hide your sagging double chin? Trade your fuzzy lightly taut gut for an uneven mass of pasty, useless flab?

Let's trade your thick arms that could be mistaken for having muscle with a set of ham arms, your flab wing spreading down into your crowded side-tit fat even as you raise them above your head.  

Why not turn that dick you show off when you're horny with an embarrassingly dwarfed nub, a little button surrounded by soft fat that you gotta fight to push back just to jack off, hundreds of pounds away from ever topping anyone again.  Surely you find the thought of eating away a sexual position enticing.

You could trade your 'thicc', two C, clap emoji chest with a set of fat tits that sag into your mess of a belly. Turn your 'I'm fat let's party' sized form into something much more massive and sweaty and inconvenient.  Take your diet from 'big eater' into 'the fuck is wrong with you.'

I bet you want to know what it feels like to turn those anonymous stares from objectifying lust into pure disgust, to take one look at you and assume all the bad habits you must have picked up to get to this point, and know that they're right. Aren't you just a little curious how that feels?

Being hot is fun, but you could be the bad example people point to instead. 'You don't want to end up like that person.' ‘At least I’m not THAT.’ 

And the best part? 

Nothing's stopping you. 

Hungry?

#xwg #wg #humiliation #gaining #fat #story #weight gain

[reedrfeedr]

(meta: quick update)

I've had fun with this on Twitter, so you can ask me a question on here now. Leave your questions in the question box thing and maybe I won't ignore them

[reedrfeedr]

story - let me borrow you

(a feeder borrows your body and brings new meaning to the word ‘self destructive.' CW: extreme weight gain, humiliation, body swap, non-con)

Running into issues getting fat? No problem, just let me take over for you for a while. I promise I'll leave it unrecognizable, stuck with enough sedentary and gluttonous habits to leave you locked in a perpetual cycle of weight gain.

Getting fat is so fucking easy when it's not your body you're ruining, believe me. It's not my face I'll show at the drive through window ordering for four. Not my reputation I'm ruining when your coworkers see you grow out of your work clothes in near real time.

It’s not like it’s my friends and family I'll tell 'I just love food' when they ask why I've been eating so much lately. (And it won't be a surprise when I make this body into one that's the stereotype for that statement.)

It's not like I care how much this body looks like a fat slob, with ill-fitting clothes and a piggish, slovenly face. Or whether people give this body an angry look when I rudely burp in public with it unashamedly as I’m stuffing your fat face like you’re starving.

I'm not the one with the stubborn pride in this body's dick size, and I don't give a fuck how pathetic it's gonna look buried under a couple hundred pounds of lard.

I don't care how this body ends up distributing it's fat, either. I don't care if it ends up flabby and unflattering and doesn't fit in any clothes, or if it ends up with an embarrassing set of tits you weren't sure if you even wanted.

I'm gonna look in the mirror and giggle as I'm fattening this body up, tracing its stretch marks you might hate and laughing at how low that double chin hangs and wobbles as I chuckle.

I'll stick this body’s chubby digits into its deepening belly button and see how far I can swell its form before I have to return it.  I'll raise these increasingly flabbed arms and see how much more I need to go before I can completely bury the visible muscle.

When I finally decide to give this body back to you, I don’t know if you’ll even recognize it. You might end up filled with shame and arousal, thinking 'okay, maybe it's hot, but is that even me? I'd fuck them, but would I want to be them?'

Because the truth is, this isn't your body anymore. I’ve filled it with enough bad habits and permanent scars from my indulgence to mark it forever. It’s mine, I'm just putting you into it. Hopefully you like your new home, because you aren't going to be able to escape it again.

#xwg #story #short story #wg #fat #gainer #tf #body swap