Submission and domination

marakinsis:
You thought you were lucky when she told you that she wanted to make you fatter. Just a little bit, she promised. You agreed. It's what you always wanted.

She cooks, and you eat. Every meal drips with butter and oil. She wants more, and you agree. You quit your job. She tells you that she's prepared the basement with everything you need. It's struggle getting down there, but you rejoice - no more stairs, at least not today. She brings you meal after meal, day after day. Every morning you get up to shower, and every morning it is a little harder to hold yourself up. She watches as you spend ten minutes shuffling yourself out of bed, and back in.

You're sure the days are becoming shorter, but you only have her word to go by - there's no window down here - and you've not yet needed to go upstairs. She keeps bringing you food, and you struggle to raise your arm to your face to eat it. She sighs, and takes over. Your arms stay by your side. You try to get up to shower and feel your legs quivering, sharp pains shooting up your legs and your spine. You sit. She tells you it's okay. You look wistfully towards the stairs and know that you will never again see them from the top. She tells you to get back into bed.

It's only been a few months, she says. You know that's not true but you say nothing. She stopped hand-feeding you and now each meal is liquid, entering you with a tube, bypassing your mouth and pouring directly down your throat. You don't recall the last time you chewed. You wonder what your family thinks. She assures you they don't mind. Every day seems a little shorter and she has started injecting you with something to help you sleep. You suspect the world thinks you're dead. You suspect it might soon be right.

The fatty sludge keeps coming - it stopped tasting of food long ago - and she insists it's always been like that. For once you say no. You've had enough, this has gone too far, she's lied and manipulated you for too long. She says you're just moody. She injects you with something, says it will calm you down. You lose focus. Your vision becomes blurry. You agree. You keep sucking down the sludge. She puts you to sleep a little sooner every day and in the morning you consume. She keeps the drugs topped up. You are not aware of how much time is passing.

There's the occasional moment of horrifying lucidity, when the drugs wear off and you're able to look down and recognise what you've become. You are sweat and flesh, a haulk of fat that spreads over what used to be the bed. You are decorated by dark patches, every fold is highlighted with irritated red skin, and she's put bandages where the skin has split down the sides of your lumpy legs that have long since turned grey. Sometimes you're lucid when she rolls you over onto your side, and you suffocate as your weight crushes your lungs and windpipe, physically unable to complain as she rubs some liquid into the folds on your back that stings like sweet hell before she drops you and you fall back onto the bed, raising a cloud of damp dust that fills your lungs as you try to catch a breath that always eludes you. You try to say something, but you can't - your mouth is rusty, the muscles have atrophied from never needing to chew or speak. But she notices your feeble attempts and, with no change in expression, she presses a syringe into you somewhere that you can't feel it and your mind recedes back to that blurry place.

You have become her plaything, nothing more than a mouth to feed and a body to grow. You try to raise your hands to your face - it's instinctive - and can't, your arms locked to your sides in the sticky embrace of your fat and gravity. You cannot call for help, your vocal chords have long since withered. You cannot remove the tube from your mouth. You desperately want to quit her game but you cannot. She has checkmated you. The only way out is to keep playing until she wins.

GrowingLoveHandles: You need to post this as a story.

chubette:
Being kidnapped and chained up in an empty room, while my captor shows up for daily stuffing sessions, sometimes leaving me with a tube down my throat which slowly fills me with fatty chocolaty cream.

I helplessly watch my body grow fatter, bulges oozing out day by day. One morning I wake up to find myself unchained, and I make a dash for freedom. My body jiggles with every move, but I make it the only opening avaiable - an oval shaped hole in the padded wall.

I dive through, wriggling desperately to gain freedom, but my newly gained flab betrays me. My overfed paunch won't fit, and eventually I'm trapped, my belly caught in the opening.

Once my captor shows up he finds my lower half in the room, and I suddenly feel him shoving and pushing, kneading my fat belly through the wall. Thinking I'm finally being released I push on... but with a soft thumping sound, my belly is replaced by my massive hips and ass, surging up against the wall inside like a cork in a bottle.

That's when I realize it's all part of his plan - my belly now sags down on one side, nearly touching the floor, and effectively locking me in place... trapped between it and my jiggling backside, halfway through the wall.

There I am utterly helpless to my captor, who now has complete access to my naked backside. And the feeding won't stop - with every stuffing, my body grows fatter, oozing further around the wall, trapping me more tightly and hopelessly each passing day.

And I eventually succumb to my new trapped existence, and embrace it... as if I had a choice.

Bigbellieddreams:
This is kind of weird but what if instead of those auctions for dates with either a bachelor or bachelorette, they auction off bellies without consenting. The people who buy these "bachelorettes" are all dominant feeders. All throughout the night the bachelorettes are being stuffed to measure how big the potential the bellies can be. They have their hands tied about their heads and they are all wearing button up dresses. One girl has a funnel in her mouth and a hose with pudding flowing into her belly. The buttons on her shirt start to strain as her belly rounds out. The crowd is going wild screaming for the buttons to pop off. They speed up the food in the funnel traveling to her belly. The buttons finally pop off and her belly is round, tight, shiny ready to bust open. Her belly button is getting shallow as the auction bids keep raising. The auctioneer starts chanting pop out that bellybutton. After a few minutes of chugging her belly button almost pops out. The man with the highest bid walks up and makes her drink a gallon of milk. He starts sucking her belly button encouragingly. Her belly button pops out and he stops and just rubs her round overstuffed belly. Then he takes home his prize to stuff her more later.

finickyfeedee:

Once I finally get chubby, like maybe around 160 pounds, not quite fat but big enough for people to notice and start making negative comments, I would tell everybody that I was going to go on the keto diet and lose all the weight. Any time I was in public or near other people, I would carefully follow the diet requirements, avoiding all carbs but still eating many calories of the fatty foods that you eat on that diet. It would be easy to have more calories without it seeming like much since fatty food is so dense. No one would question the presence of heavy cream in a keto fridge. If I could figure out a way to secretly put lots of carbs into my fatty diet food, like maybe weight gain powder or pure sugar, I might do that, but otherwise I really would eat the diet things.

Then, any time I was alone, especially at night, I would binge on as many carbs as possible, preferably thousands of calories worth. When I was too full to eat any more food I’d chug heavy gainer shakes until right before the limit of being too full to keep it down. Because of all these binges, I’d not only never go into ketosis, I’d gain a huge amount of weight from all the stuffing and increase my capacity over time until I could shovel things down like a competitive eater.

Any time people asked why I was rapidly gaining more weight instead of losing, I’d tearfully insist I had no idea why the weight wouldn’t melt off even though I was following my diet completely perfectly. I’d maybe try saying things like maybe my metabolism was just completely destroyed by my years dealing with my eating disorder and now I’m stuck fat. I’d wear too-small clothes until I could no longer squeeze into them at all, and claim that I didn’t want to buy new, bigger clothes because I was totally going to lose all the weight, because the diet had to start working sometime, right? People would ask me about it all the time because I’d be gaining so fast for seemingly no reason, and they’d want to try to find out why, find out what was happening to cause me to blimp up despite eating such a seemingly small amount.

The goal would be to stay on this fake diet, insisting to everyone that I was following its requirements religiously, until I went from a little chubby to obese. Then, once I got really and truly fat, I’d “give up on the diet,” and no one would ever know I hadn’t ever actually been dieting in the first place. When I stopped pretending to be on the diet, I’d start stuffing with anything available all the time without hiding it, telling everyone that after depriving myself for so long I just couldn’t control myself around food. Since my capacity would have increase so much, I’d be able to eat massive amounts of food. I’d pretend to be upset about that for a little while, too, before “accepting it.”

In addition to how humiliating this would be, I think it might have the side effect of discouraging bystanders who witnessed it from trying to lose weight. I mean, would you want to starve yourself for months to lose weight if you’d just watched somebody else do it “rigorously,” “following all the rules,” and balloon dozens of pounds in a matter of months instead of getting thinner, and then watched them quit the diet only to discover their appetite had permanently increased so much they were never satisfied unless they ate thousands of calories in every meal, dooming them to never be skinny or even normal ever again?