IT STARTED (Gainer Fiction) (XWG, Dark-ish Ending) It start..

IT STARTED
(Gainer Fiction)
(XWG, Dark-ish Ending)

It started with a few skipped gym sessions. Work was picking up, and skipping some visits to Planet Fitness wasn’t going to hurt any. Slowly, though, skipping two or three days a week turned to three or four, then five or six. After a few months, I canceled my membership. It got pricey, and I could always work out at home. I gained a few pounds, but it was hardly noticeable. But then came the laziness.

It started with that new yoga mat I bought for my living room. It was so soft and welcoming. Yoga positions sometimes turned into napping positions, to be perfectly honest. And they were the best naps. After a long day at work, we all need rest, right? I slowly found myself a new favorite place to nap. But then I started putting on even more pounds.

It started when cooking got old. After my yoga mat naps, I would be too groggy to cook. Take-out was just so much faster. Plus, I was saving money from canceling my gym membership! Now I had funds for take-out. I’d walk out to my car, drive to the restaurant, walk in, pick up my order, walk back to my car, get home, walk back into my house… and then I discovered this thing called DoorDash! I could click a few buttons and have the food delivered right to me! Anything I wanted! My pants were getting tighter. I had a muffin top with a bit of an overhang. My doctor said I was about 100lbs overweight. It got worse though.

It started when I met my new boyfriend. We’d chatted before online, but I just wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He said he was more interested in chubby guys at that time. And that was okay! But now that I’d become sort of fat, he seemed to notice in my new photos. He asked if I wanted to go out to lunch with him sometime, and I was thrilled! Tall, dark, and handsome, the guy had bulging biceps, abs, and a black Irish charm. When we went out to lunch, he chose a buffet. He said it was his favorite. I met him there to see him sitting in a booth, plates upon plates of food already waiting for us… er, I guess me. He had a salad with lemon and olive oil. He had me try all his favorites though — the roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, mac and cheese, Black Forest cake… he had a whole smorgasbord of food laid out for me! I was starving after my nap, and went to town. I noticed his eyes glaze over a bit while he watched me eat, a small smirk creep onto his face. He seemed to be in a trance as he watched me wash down a piece of pizza with a gulp of my Coca-Cola. I told him I couldn’t eat like this often, but was glad I got to try all his favorites. He leaned in and kissed me and said, “You’re so cute. I love the new figure. Chubby guys are my favorite. I just wanna fatten you UP!” he said as he jiggled my cheek. And he did just that.

It started about 6 months into our relationship. At the buffet, I was 330lbs. Now, I was pushing up to 500lbs, heavier than I thought I’d ever be and in such a short time. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. My belly got in the way of my pants buttoning. My ass was rounder, and neither myself nor my boyfriend were complaining. Then my chest started swelling up with fat until I officially had breasts. He assured me he found me adorable. He was a total catch, and he liked me when having more flab on me. He said it was easier to hold onto during sex. It was perfect! I didn’t worry about the gym or my diet at all anymore. Another year into the relationship, and he had moved me into his place. By now, I was pushing 600, and he hated thinking of me living in my two story apartment all by myself. “Those stairs must be hard on you! Hey… do you… do you want to move in im with me?” he had asked, giving my belly a playful jiggle while he smiled, awaiting my response. “Of course I do!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t have been more happy! I did want to try to lose a few pounds, but in all, my life was going great! That’s when my boyfriend came out to me as a feeder. I wasn’t aware of the term, but I quickly learned.

It started when he moved me in. We had our bedroom, and he had a spare room that was completely empty except for a mattress and… was that tubing coming from the ceiling? “Oh, yeah. Long story. My ex and I would get a little kinky in here.” I looked at the mattress and the tubing and asked him, “What is it?” He chuckled. “Oh, tubby, you have so much to learn! Come here. Lay down. I’ll show you what the tube does.” I laid down on the mattress, huffing and puffing as I tossed my flab around in an effort to get comfortable. He put the tube in my mouth and fastened it with straps a little too hastily. I should have realized my fate then. He said, “okay, I have to head up to the attic. One second. Don’t move!” I heard him pull down the latch in his ceiling, and heard him stomping up a ladder. A couple minutes later, a thick, creamy substance started pouring down the tube and into my mouth. It tasted delicious! Was it cake batter? Melted ice cream? Both?! I didn’t know, but it tasted phenomenal. I thought to myself, “this is the life!”

It started when I couldn’t shift my body to roll over like I usually did. It had been a few years, and about a year and a half since I was moved to the feeding bed full-time. My boyfriend had convinced me to quit my job. He made plenty for the both of us, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Going from 600lbs to 700lbs had proven to be quite the adjustment. I don’t recall whether or not I ever even wanted to get this big. I just remember… doing it. He’d watch me suck down the weight gain shake and tell me how much he loved and cherished me. He’d slide into one of my many rolls, and I’d feel his hips clap against my blubbery body, sending me sloshing all over the place. In those moments, I’d forget my worries. I loved this guy, and he loved me. And how lucky was I to have landed a beautiful, buff man like him? I needed help getting up and down, sure. I couldn’t find shirts that fit. And now, I was finding I couldn’t roll over to adjust my layers of fat to a better position to get comfortable. It was a bit difficult, but he made it so worth it! But as the year progressed, things began to change.

It started when I’d become harder to care for. At this point, I was 100% dependent on him. I’d let him fatten me up to 950lbs. Balloons of fat rolls dangled from all over me. My hands were somewhat overtaken by some very big wrist rolls, and my cankles had grown down to my feet long ago. My moobs weighed heavy on my chest with nipples so stretched out that you could barely tell where the areola stopped and the skin started. My belly rested on my… knees? I think those are my knees, yeah. They used to be, at least. Fat deposits had begun to burgeon from my thighs and calves, like giant appendages of wobbling lard. There may have been some swelling, but I was pretty sure it was at least 90% pure adipose. I hadn’t stood up or bared any weight in well over a year. My boyfriend had a hoist to move me, and an oversized motorized wheelchair he could plop me in. A few weeks ago though, one of the wheels on the wheelchair had broken off under my weight. I toppled to the floor like jello. Thankfully, I was okay. Just sore. He said he’d get me a new chair soon. In the meantime, he was going to hire an in-home nurse to stop by and take care of me when he had to go out.

It started when the in-home nurse first arrived. He was a husky, burly kind of guy. Dirty blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He seemed fairly friendly. It didn’t last long, though. He would get perturbed whenever I’d ask for help getting my DoorDash order brought to me, or when I needed something from around the house, I told the nurse that I could do some of this by myself, but we needed a motorized wheelchair. The nurse told me they were on back order, but that he and my caretaker were working on it. Caretaker? “That’s my BOYFRIEND,” I corrected the nurse while he massaged my legs for circulation. “Oh… right, of course. I thought Jerry was his boyfriend.” I was perplexed. “Who’s Jerry?” I asked, as he began to lift my rolls for skin inspections. “I guess he must be a coworker,” he said, “They go to lunch here and there. A buffet on the other side of town.” My heart sank. The nurse smiled. “Is it sinking in yet, fatboy?” My spine ran cold. What did he just say? “Is it sinking in that he’s looking for his next pig?” Oh my god. It felt like the room was spinning. “Your boyfriend hired me for his first pig, years and years ago. And I’ve seen a few since, including you.” There was a ringing in my ears. I was furious. I was devastated. I was angry and hurt. What was he saying? What did he mean? He gave my belly a good shake, and laughed as the ripples caused my rolls to slosh back and forth, clapping together and making the most comical of sounds. “Im sure there’s love there — don’t get me wrong. I mean… there must be, right….?” The way he asked me made me wonder, myself. The nurse slid the sling under me, walked to my other side, and pulled it out from the other side of me, hooking the hoist up to the sling and lifting me from the bed. “Gotta change the sheets — hope you don’t mind hanging out for awhile! Hahaha.” I was bundled into a giant mass of fat, compressed into myself and stuck in the sling. I hated how uncomfortable and embarrassing it was to be squished into myself like this, suspended and helpless. I could barely talk as my fat pressed against my neck and mouth. Then, the nurse lowered me back onto my home — my bed. “He’ll probably be out late. Try to get some rest. Night, fatty!” The nurse left the room, leaving me in the dark room to ruminate on everything I’d just learned.

It started as a bit of laziness. A little DoorDashing, gaining a few pounds, and dating. Now, here I existed — a gargantuan pile of flesh and rolls, realizing that even if I was angry, furious, hurt, and outraged, all I could do was lay here at my ‘boyfriend’s’ mercy.

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Written by Fatboy 🐷