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Could you write a story about someone who takes an office job and then balloons in weight cause of it?

;) Thanks for the request! I want to add a CW near the ending where there's a little struggling, but as usual my characters are not going to be shamed for this from others.

9 to 5

Administrative assistant. Office peon. Coffee-getter. That’s you, or at least that’s what you nervously chant in your head as you walk through the door to your new office building. That’s your hope anyway. It’s a huge opportunity, a giant step up from your previous job, and you hope you’ll fit in well. You aced the first interview, then the next, now you’re walking up the steps to the second floor where your new boss awaits. You noticed the elevator right next to the stairs on the way up, and while it’d be nice to use to help with the welcome cupcakes you’ve brought with you, you want to get your steps in today. You’ve heard office jobs are pretty sedentary, and you don’t want to end up getting out of shape.

Your boss is the nicest, and she loves the cupcakes you brought. She’s a portly thing and she has several that morning while she introduces you to the rest of the office and gets you used to your new surroundings. You like your new desk setup, it’s an open concept cubicle, very spacious, and the computer chair is one of the nicest, cushiest things you’ve ever sat in. Your boss, between bites of cupcake, informs you the company spares no expense on their employees.

You definitely noticed, because the break room is stocked full of all kinds of snacks, a yoga/workout studio (you’re really hyped about that) and for lunch your boss has you order from the nearest Chipotle with the company credit card—and from Starbucks later on in the afternoon, too, for the entire department. There seems to be no shortage of resources here and you love it. It puts you at ease real quick.

Several weeks into your new job and you’re the busiest assistant there could be—you’re on hand at all meetings with your boss, taking notes and ensuring everything’s running smoothly. You’re the go-getter, the office mascot, the dependable one. You’re also incredibly overworked. As nice as your boss is it feels like you’re working through a never-ending list of tasks and requests. Good thing the break room’s always stocked, and when you order lunch for everyone your boss always tells you to get a little extra something for yourself so…you do. Munching through the work day does help with the stress, and who are you to deny free food?

In this economy? Never.

Two months into your job you’ve stopped taking the stairs in the morning, preferring the elevator for two reasons: one, you’re usually carrying in a huge order of donuts or bagels or some other yummy treat and two, you feel a little silly being out of breath when you take the stairs. Can’t walk up looking like that, it’s entirely unprofessional. Your work clothes have become a little more snug but thanks to your position you’ve got a healthy budget to get more clothes. Sizes must have changed or something thanks to the pandemic and inflation, you definitely wear a medium but it’s like all these new clothes have shrunk. Manufacturers must be getting stingy with their material.

Half a year in and, okay, you can’t deny it, you may have put on a little weight, but it’s not bad. Besides, what else could you expect? You’ve been eating almost nonstop while you’re a work and aside from hustling back and forth from your boss’s office to your desk you don’t get a lot of exercise. Still, it’s not bad, and you kind of like the extra chub. Plus it helps keep you warm in the entirely-way-too-air-conditioned office. Honestly you sort of mold into your plush chair, your widening hips getting closer to the arm rests and your tummy sitting quite nicely on your plump thighs. Your office chair is more comfortable than anything you have at home; it makes it too easy to just sit down for hours upon hours, mindlessly snacking away while you blaze through your workload.

A year goes by and your boss brings you a bouquet on your hiring anniversary…a bouquet of bacon and donut holes, because of course she knows breakfast treats are your absolute weakness. You devour the whole thing in under an hour, and still order your usual from the nearest cafe for ‘brunch’ because it was just a lot of sugar and salt and that really didn’t fill you up. No one bats an eye at you as you complete two breakfast sandwiches and a heaping pile of hash browns, moaning a little as your bloated tummy struggles to digest everything that morning. It’s a good feeling though; you feel appreciated and rewarded in your position and your boss knows exactly how to motivate you to work even harder!

By the third year you’re definitely not the thin little waif that tottered in ages ago. Each morning you lumber in with bags upon bags of decadent treats ordered by either yourself or your boss clutched in your chubby hands, all of which is meant for the whole office but is usually finished off by…you, if we’re being honest. Still, no one seems to mind because a happy, well fed assistant is the best kind of assistant anyone can have. Every day you squeeze your fattened body into that same chair from when you first started, it’s a bit of an effort now but it’s still just as comfortable and to be frank you kind of like that it squishes you together and minimizes how much you can move. It’s easier to finish all your work when you know it’s too much effort to get up and walk around. Nope, you’re the most dedicated worker bee in the history of your company, spending almost the entire day at your desk surrounded by heaps of takeout provided by the company.

Admittedly you were a little concerned about how sedentary you’ve become but you secretly love it. It feels good to be praised and rewarded for all your hard work, and all you have to do is sit down and snack away while your cute, chubby little fingers type at 85 WPM. Sure some things are more difficult, like seeing around the large, overfed gut you’ve developed to the keyboard and struggling out of your chair when you have to go talk to your boss in person about something, but those things are minor compared to how comfortable you feel in your body. No one in the office is as big as you now but you’ve definitely noticed your coworkers have all plumped up a little too during their time here. No one makes ugly remarks, no one acts like it’s a crisis; everyone’s simply happy to come to work and be given all kinds of delicious food for their efforts.

The day you break your chair comes five years in. By then you’ve ballooned into quite the massive whale and you definitely knew it, but so long as you were doing your job you didn’t mind. It happens one morning when you laboriously waddle up to your desk, wheezing from the short walk from the elevator and dumping more containers of mcmuffins than the average person would ever dream of consuming on your desktop. Already exhausted and it’s not even that late, you drop into your chair which…is such a mistake. Normally you know you shouldn’t do that, mostly because you have to stuff yourself into it anyway, but you were just too tired from standing and needed to sit down immediately so you could catch your breath. Nope, the chair wasn’t having it. It creaks, groans, and snaps and you experience your first real flash of terror and shame as your tumble to the ground with it.

For the first time in years you realize just how big you’ve become as your still beautiful but extremely massive body jiggles and quakes while you settle in the wreckage. Your jelly-like stomach comes untucked from your shirt and pours one way, pulling you with it’s weight and causing you to struggle. Your face goes red from both embarrassment and effort, you need to get up before anyone sees, it would be so horrible if anyone saw, but it’s futile. You feel like a poor turtle on its back, helpless and vulnerable, large wobbling limbs flailing but getting you nowhere.

Luckily your boss finds you after ten terrifying minutes and gathers several coworkers to help right you. The crisis is averted and no one shames you for breaking the chair, actually your boss immediately puts in an order for a new, larger one, and everyone is more concerned about your well-being than some flimsy, cheap chair anyway. Don’t worry, the company will accommodate you by whatever means necessary and that comforts you greatly. For now they set you up on an industrial bench which isn’t as comfortable, but you do have to admit it leaves quite a lot of space for you to spread out on. You do like that, and it means you won’t have to worry about feeling too pinched in your chair like you usually do later on in the afternoon, when you’ve put away more food than an average person does in a week.

It also means you can keep going down the nice path you’ve made for yourself, happily stuffing yourself through the day, the week, the next couple years maybe,  and continuing your award-winning work ethic.

You do have to wonder though how long the new chair will last though once it arrives. Maybe the bench is a better option for now. You know, it’s not as uncomfortable as you initially thought, and it’s easier to get up when you’re finished with your first wave of snacks. Not like you have to get up much anyway, your smaller coworkers bring you whatever you need…

And you do need a lot of help, especially when you’ve grown to the size of a horse from all these company sponsored treats.

-SB

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i wanna say this just to be clear, i dont think fat people should be fetishized. if you only interact with fat people to jerk off to them, you arent thinking of them as people and youre disgusting. finding fat people attractive, enjoying being fat, and gaining weight are normal aspects of people's lives. purposefully gaining weight to be fatter because it *turns you or someone else on* is a fetish. stuffing yourself silly is a fetish. calling yourself and pretending to be a pig is a fetish. im getting fatter because it turns me on, because i want to, and because i find food erotic. im essentially giving people permission to only interact with me for horny purposes. but for the love of god leave normal people alone!!!!

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sequence commission for @/bastardapple on twitter

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Hemlock gets so fat that he has trouble levitating (It doesn't make sense cause he's incorporeal but it's cute imagining him struggle to float)

I'm too lazy to fully color this rn but I am obsessed with this idea, poor thing can't get off his big belly..

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If you’re still taking requests, maybe a very chubby Naegi getting grabbed and teased by Byakuya?

Remember to tease respectfully friends! (Unless you've discussed otherwise with your partner.)

Mini psa over, this was super fun to draw. Even if To.gami's face gave me a lil trouble. While I was draeing made myself chuckle thinking about To.gami "apraising" his boyfriend's chub, gently holding itand flustering poor Nae.gi.

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Extra chubby Ka.muku.ra for all of his fans out there~ 

He’s definitely a bored eater. 

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"Honestly, you do this every time," By.akuya sighed, adjusting his glasses. "One starts to believe you actually enjoy being stuffed beyond reason." He poked a harsh finger into Ma.koto's tummy, which was round and hard from being full of chocolate. The world's savior tended to get loads of chocolate from people all over the world, and (after they were tested for poison) he ended up working his way through all of it in a few days. He tried his hardest to eat all of it, never wanting anyone's work to go to waste, or to make anyone feel bad. 

Which is how the world's savior ended up on the couch with a couple empty boxes and wrappers strewn about him, one hand on the swell of his stomach as he groaned.

"Ow!" Ma.koto whined. "Heyyy…"

"That's enough of that," Ky.oko sighed, shooting By.akuya a withering look. "Go get some water and ginger ale for him."

"Very well," By.akuya sighed, as Ky.oko knelt and began to gently massage Ma.koto's stomach.

"T-*hic*-thanks, Ky.oko…" Ma.koto blushed and pressed into her hands. "Sorry to cause trouble…"

"Your goal is admirable, but you shouldn't overdo it," she scolded him. "You can only fit so much."

"Yeah…"

"And this is all such low grade chocolate too." Bya.kuya set the requested drinks on the coffee table and picked up a piece of chocolate to eye critically. "You could at least gorge yourself with something better."

"People made and bought those for me, they worked hard and put thought into it!" Ma.koto protested. "Don't call them low grade!"

"He's only jealous you didn't eat his first," Ky.oko chuckled. "Now come on, drink a little and then let's give you a chance to rest."

The two of them stayed long enough to get Ma.koto comfy on the couch under a blanket, then once it looked like he was dozing off they left.

… which was when Ma.koto's other partner entered the scene.

"Oh… sorry, I didn't know you were sleeping," Na.gito whispered as he entered, the sound causing Ma.koto to sit up and yawn. He felt a little disoriented from falling asleep so full and then being woken up.

"S'okay," he murmured, opening his arms wide because he felt like cuddling and while Ky.oko and By.akuya usually needed some warming up to affection he knew Na.gito was starved for it.

As expected Na.gito slid onto the couch with him and cuddled close, kissing his cheek.

"Hm?" He reached under his side curiously and pulled out a chocolate wrapper. "What's this?"

"Oh, it's from those." Makoto gestured to the over laden coffee table covered in candies. "Ky.oko and By.akuya just scolded me for overdoing it," he chuckled. "I got too worked up trying to make sure everyone felt appreciated, which is silly cause how would they even know?"

"It is silly."

"Yeah…"

"You're the one who needs to be appreciated."

"Huh?"

Na.gito took Ma.koto's soft cheeks in his hands. "You're being so kind and thoughtful, but remember these are gifts for you! Because of all you've done! You're a hero to these people, you deserve to eat as much as you like!"

"W-well, I dunno…" Ma.koto blushed, but before he could argue any further a chocolate was pressed into his mouth.

"Does it taste good?" Na.gito asked with a smile.

Ma.koto moaned at the flavor and nodded enthusiastically.

"Then, would you like another?" Na.gito's grin widened as he held up a box of chocolates.

"Mmnn…  maybe just some…" 

Maybe just some soon turned into many, and before long Ma.koto was leaning back against Na.gito so his partner could rub his growing stomach with one hand and feed him with the other. As he did this, he also lavished him with praise.

"These are basically like offerings to a god, hm?" He mused as he fed Ma.koto another piece and gave his stomach an affectionate squeeze. What had started as a slight curve under Ma.koto's t-shirt was now a swollen expanse resting in his lap, his shirt well past having ridden up. 

"Nn?" Ma.koto's tongue lolled out to accept the piece as he made a dazed sound of confusion.

"You're so beautiful like this, when you let people treat you the way you deserve," Na.gito sighed dreamily. "Hm. I should keep you this well fed everyday, you seem to enjoy it." There were practically little cartoon hearts whirring about Nag.ito's head as he squeezed and jiggled Ma.koto's stomach with both hands.

Ma.koto burped and groaned. "Y-yeah?"

"Ahem."

The two former lucky students turned their heads to the doorway, where Kyo.ko was raising an eyebrow at the scene.

"Oh! Hello Ky.oko!" Na.gito greeted her cheerfully. "Did you want to feed Ma.koto?"

"I wanted him to get some rest so he wouldn't get sick," she replied. "... but at least he looks happy…" she blushed slightly. 

"Yes, I think so too." Na.gito rubbed Ma.koto's stomach, his smile growing somewhat amused as Kyo.ko approached to kneel by Mak.oto and feed him another piece.

#AAAGBBFBFBGBVB #<-(POSITIVE)

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I’m surprised you haven’t done Aoi stuffed since she’s the canonical biggest eater in Danganronpa

Truly a shame I haven’t posted anything with one of the best girls yet. Let’s fix that shall we?

She:

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Three Types of People Gaining Weight

The Pouter

The Pouter resents the effect food has on them. How just one little bite of something can lead to a full blown stuffing, making them feel helpless to the weight they’re putting on in droves. They’re the type who displaces blame. It’s the brain’s fault. It’s genetics. It’s the genetically modified food that is making them too fat to walk without waddling a little. Healthy food is too expensive; junk food is too divine. Exercise is too time-consuming; sitting all day is a required part of their 9 to 5. They pout their way through the day at their desk, sucking on their daily venti frappe, which they carefully don’t realize has been fattening up their ass so badly that it doesn’t really fit in their chair anymore. They pout when their clothes don’t look quite right and blame the dryer for shrinking them. They get angry when the elevator goes out of order, forcing them to pant and heave their way up the stairwell. Then they get irate when there’s nothing good left in the pantry to fill them up once they finally get to their apartment in the evening. The only thing that soothes their nerves is take out, and so they eat a lot of take out. The trash bin is full of take out containers, along the coffee table, and the countertop. Sometimes they reach the bottom of a container, so full but still needing to consume more, so they get take out from somewhere else. They wake up heavier every morning, but they don’t know that. All they know is that (because their arms and chest have blown up so big with flab) it’s getting hard to cross their arms when they’re annoyed.

The Blusher

The Blusher is the type who effortlessly gains a few dozen pounds in winter weight and doesn’t even notice until the weather warms. They happily pack away their winter clothes, pull on a well-worn pair of shorts, and…with a sharp pang of dread, find they can’t even tug the denim all the way up their bulkier thighs. Even without anyone around to ogle their thighs, or their chubbier face, or their larger love handles—which their shirt can’t quite seem to cover—they flush pink. A little ashamed and a lot embarrassed. Because how did they not realize? They gently touch their belly, thicker and curvier than it should be. They look in the mirror. And…whoa. They’re girthy all over. Their limbs are large and heavy-looking and they just look so big. They gained weight and were totally oblivious. Oblivious to how all those special-occasion splurges and one-off binges added up. With whispered curses and last-ditch tugging attempts, the Blusher tries on more clothes and outfits, hoping against hope that they’re not as big as they look and feel. Except almost nothing fits. And their belly keeps jiggling when they turn and bend and stand. And the dusted-off scale is showing them a number they can’t possibly believe. No, no, no. They can’t be that fat. With tubby fingers, they search and calculate on their phone to see…to see that they are teetering on the far end of the Overweight box in the spectrum. Just to the right, the more ominous Obese box lies in wait, colored a deep red. They blush that very same color, down to their second chin.

The Lip-Biter

The Lip-Biter is the type who stands in the kitchen, stuffing their mouth with a fifth donut as they press their heavy belly a little firmer against the counter. They’ve gotten fat, really fat, and they know it, but they nevertheless put off getting new clothes using money excuses, telling themselves that it’s not a big deal if they stretch the seams a little. Except eventually it’s not just a little, and the Lip-Biter, swallowing hard every time they get dressed, knows that. The truth is, they feel a rush when they notice their buttons strain over their breasts and torso. They hold their breath when they sit down slowly and aren’t sure if something’s going to rip. They sneak candies and chocolates at every opportunity, wondering idly how fat they’re going to get if they keep their bad habits up. They bite their lip at the thought of getting so obese that normal daily routines become difficult. They’re already not as fast as they used to be; they already sweat easier. After work some days, they buy a cake of some kind for a fake occasion and eat the whole thing at home, forkful after forkful, lacking any will not to gorge themselves. They spread their thighs apart a little more and let their clothes slowly stretch and snap as they eat. Lick their lips and squirm in pleasure.

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[hasn’t made any content in ten fucking years]

have another chubbiaki. but chubby bunny.

[leaves for another ten years]

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i am the provider of ha.jim.e tummy now

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WHY THE COMMUNITY IS TOXIC

(this post is gonna get so much hate but here goes...)

Today there's been a lot of discussion about toxicity in the feedism sphere, and why we have so much doxxing and unsolicited reposting. I won't go into details as to why this conversation has emerged out respect to the individuals involved, but I do hope that, hopefully, this can be a teachable moment. Let's stop this happening again.

Let's talk about why it seems so many feedists are incels.

For a moment, I want you to imagine you are a straight, white, American 18 year old boy. You play Destiny, you rant about the Star Wars sequels online and you listen to Takeshi69. You are also a fat admirer.

You've seen "cringe compilations" of gainers on YouTube. You've seen feeders portrayed like pedophiles on TLC. You believe that your kink is disgusting, that fat women are disgusting. But they're the only thing that turns you on.

So you can't have sex, because you're too fatphobic, too fragile, to be seen dating a fat girl, not that you have a clue how to talk to women anyway. You have to keep your preferences secret, because if anybody found out, they'd be disgusted by you. And repressing your sexuality like this makes you angry. It makes you feel entitled, entitled to as much feedist porn as you want, because it's not like you'll ever have "real" sex. And if you're denied it... You take it out on those feedists brave enough to be reasonably open about their kink.

The reason so many feedists are incels is because society teaches that feedism, and fat in general, are disgusting. That means feedists feel they have to repress their kinks, repress their sexuality, and that is not healthy for them mentally. Maybe it's because they're scared by their kink that they turn to far-right incel culture in the first place, overcompensating for what they see as a sin by hating on everyone "guilty" of similar sins with vitriol. Maybe they're already neo-fascists when they learn about the community, and their bigoted assumptions about fat women lead them to treat them like dirt. It probably varies between person to person, but the real underlying cause here is society's fatphobia.

Fatphobia is also part of the reason doxxing has such a catastrophic impact. Sex workers are often stigmatised by their friends and family when their careers in the sex industry are discovered, but if they have a weird kink that stigma is so much worse. Many gainer will have already received shit from family members about their weight, so if those same families members find out that that weight was gained on purpose, they're going to be an absolute nightmare.

So, the real issue here, isn't the incels, although they are scum. The issue is that fatphobia turns teen feedists towards incel culture, by making them feel like they can never have fulfilling sex because of their fetish, and by encouraging them to suppress their sexual urges. We can't annihilate incels from the community altogether, but we can take some steps to alleviate this problem going forward:

- Campaign against fatphobia. Not just in fetish circles, but IRL and in public

- Campaign for better rights for sex workers. Write to your Senator or MP or whoever it is that could take a stand. Get sex work on the political agenda. Get people talking.

- Promote liberal educational resources, so that impressionable teens can see the far-right for what it is

- Remind your followers on fetish sites that their kink is healthy and ok. Show new feedists how feedism can be practiced safely and consensually.

- Campaign for better sex ed in schools. Let's teach kids that kinks are okay as long as they're consensual.

- Support feedist content creators. Seriously, almost all of them are great people and they deserve your support. Buy clips from their preferred sites (you can always ask), and always leave reviews. Even if you can't afford all their clips, just send them an ask telling how much you appreciate them.

- BOYCOTT PORNHUB AND OTHER ILLEGAL REUPLOAD SITES

Please, we can all do our part. We can all be better. Let's do it.

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they make these outfits too tight!!!! here’s august’s animation! featuring the illustrious Sydney from kipteitei’s ‘No Lunch Break!’

Patreon 

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Remember that ask I got a few days ago about Hin.ata and Orange Juice? 

Welp I finally delivered. I was taking a lil brain break earlier today and this was what I drew to help get my mind all refreshed before studying again. I hope you guys like it even if it’s a lil bit rough haha.

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rewrote an old weight gain/stuffing fiction, done in the style of imagineyourfeedistotp  

Imagine your favorite character is out on a leisurely walk. On the way a tiny old house slowly comes into view and just as they were about to walk past the home the door caught their gaze; it hung wide open as if inviting them in. Curiosity got the better of them and they peered in to see a cozy living room full of thick cushioned couches and recliners. Despite the well condition and overall warm atmosphere, the lack of pictures or personal items indicated that no one lived there, or at least not for an extended period of time. 

The doorway matched the house in small size making it a tight fit to get in. The little living room lead into a similarly sized dining room, and it seemed the only thing that wasn’t small was the table. They couldn’t believe what met their eyes. Every inch of the table was taken up by multiple large dishes of food. There was roast, turkey, ham, casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing and pies. It was as if all the holiday meals had been combined and set out on a single table. How in the world could someone make that much food and not even be in the house? It couldn’t be for a large family dinner either, there were too few chairs.

They had just walked in on a dream.

It couldn’t hurt to try some. A scoop of mashed potatoes would not be noticed from the hefty bowl they sat in. So they took a plate from the counter -figuring they would just clean it afterwards and put it back- and glanced around for any hint of other people but still found none. With the coast clear they plopped a decent scoopful of potatoes onto their plate, after all there was no such thing as bad mashed potatoes. Even so these managed perfection. The consistency was not too thin or thick, the texture wasn’t too gritty or pasty, and they were far from bland. With mashed potatoes this promising, and the rich sent the other dishes gave off, the whole table was bound to be food heaven.

Oh they really shouldn’t. There was too much work put into this feast to have someone come along uninvited and dig in. No, that was incredibly rude, not to mention it would leave evidence of breaking and entering. Although they didn’t break in; the door wasn’t even closed, much less locked. Honestly who leaves their door hanging wide open and expects everything, especially magnificent food, to be untouched? If not them flies or animals would have gotten into the food and what a shame that would have been.

They took a large portion of everything, their plate barely able to carry it all. Now to see how well their stomach would fare. They sat down in one of the wooden chairs and started with the roast first before alternating with the others. Everything exceed their expectations. Food in such a modest little home was worthy at the dinning table of a royal family.

With food that good they tried to savor it and make it last, but the intense flavors spiked their hunger and they ended up stuffing their face and swallowing barely chewed bites. Their stomach soon filled up, creating strain for their waistband. By the end of the plate their pants dug into their sides as the button struggled to keep fastened. Relenting to their gluttony and comfort they undid the button and zipper, allowing their belly to surge forward.

They should have stopped then but instead they gathered another plateful. Half way done and each bite became more difficult to swallow, but enamored by the taste they forced the rest of it down, rubbing their belly during the last few bites. Their belly bulged out further than they knew it could, having pushed up their shirt during its expansion. It was incredibly taut too; there was no way they could fit anymore food without bursting like a balloon filled with too much air.

They would have remained leaned back in the chair but the recliner in the living room seemed so much more comfortable now with a huge meal weighing them down, so they heaved themself up from the chair and waddled into the living room, taking precautions as to not upset their stomach. They sank into the recliner and leaned back.

They had eaten themself into a food coma, that along with the warmth of the house eased them into sleep. After dozing for a few hours they found their stomach to be much less uncomfortably full, although not without some squishy fat taking the food’s place. At least now they could button their pants, even if their soft flesh protruded over the waistband more than previously.

They should head home, people were probably wondering where they were, and if they hadn’t been found by now they surely would be if they stayed any longer. But just as they were about to leave they caught a glimpse of the dining room. No longer did a feast take up the table, rather breakfast did. No, they really should head home. Though an extended break would be nice, they needed some more time to indulge themself, besides no one left evidence that they were angry about the food being eaten as they had left more out in the open the same way. Not to mention it had been a while since they enjoyed a breakfast worthy of being called breakfast.

They sat themself at the table again with a clean plate. The table was an all day breakfast restaurant, with pancakes, french toast, waffles, bacon, sausages, eggs, hash browns, grits, biscuits, and gravy. Like last time they couldn’t help but have some of everything, piling food onto their plate until it could hold no more. With an empty stomach growling for food they dug in, this time not even trying to savor the flavor. It took less time this go around for their waistband to become unbearable, and they undid their pants with a sigh as their belly fell into their lap, jiggling as it did so. They went for seconds, filling their stomach into throbbing tightness. Once more they leaned back and massaged their engorged gut.

The recliner was put into use for another time and they quickly fell asleep under the aid of a stomach filled to the brim with warm food. They woke, vaguely aware that their situation wasn’t a dream as they sat leaned back in the recliner. They were in the same cozy little house with extra pudge around their torso. This time fastening their pants their belly spilled over the waistband and peeked out from a tight shirt. If they weren’t chubby before they certainly were now.

Being constantly full of food and sleeping was such a relieving change of pace from the normal day to day routine. Their worries had been sent off and replaced with an abundance of food, what could be better?

Like they expected the table was stacked with mass amounts of food, different from the last time, but no less appetizing. They sat down in their usual chair, but as their abdomen compressed and their belly was forced outwards their pants gave in and the button snapped off, letting their soft gut loose to flood forwards. They didn’t give it much thought other than reckoning that buttoning their pants would be one less thing to worry about.

They piled a portion of everything onto their plate and quickly downed it, finding it didn’t fill them up as much as a whole plateful would normally. After stuffing themself repetitively their stomach must have expanded and was now expecting and craving that same amount of food. A second plate gone and their belly was well rounded, bloated with food and padded with fat, yet as full as it was, it wasn’t uncomfortably full; they could manage to gorge themself on one more plates worth. Gorge themself they did. They groaned and rubbed their belly as they forced down the last bits from the third plate. Somehow even just a spoonful was too much. Their skin was stretched and pulled tight over their stomach; it was a wonder they didn’t rupture.

They struggled to get up from the chair without puking and placed a hand underneath their distended belly as they slowly made their way to the recliner. Their stomach ached terribly but they were soon taken over by a food coma and slept it off. The ache they slept off but definitely not the weight. They woke up to love handles spilling over their waistband and a large soft belly having cascaded into and overtaken their lap, their belly button long gone. Even permanently unbuttoned their pants antagonized them, suffocating their thighs like sausages despite being ripped at the seams. Their shirt could now only serve as a crop top, a skin tight crop top at that.

Perhaps they should head home before they ended up completely indecent. But upon reaching the exit they found that their abdomen had grown wider than the doorway. It had been a tight fit in. It seemed there was no way out, as there was no back door and windows were out of the question.

Being stuck there wasn’t too bad though, far from bad really. Unlimited food, no responsibilities, invite a few friends over and it would be a utopia. A utopia where everyone would be fat and happy.

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Thinkin about... him....

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M…Ma.koto… I think you over did it bub.

I swear I have a problem and I like this boy way too much. There’s gonna be a lot of art of him on my blog… 

also I’m coming into my own with this art style so it might take awhile for me to get it consistent, bear with me