chapter 4

After this exchange it was like some barrier had been broken between the two housemates and the trajectory changed. Brax got more and more comfortable having what amounted to an extreme fat fetish. Carl lapped up the attention, the ridicule and of course, all of the food. Brax doubled down on what he was serving Carl. Making sure to get the most fattening foods, adding in weight gain shakes and the like. Brax began getting very frisky with Carl, possessive even. He’d suck the fatboy off and then fuck and blow his load into any number of Carl’s rolls. He was especially fond of fucking his neck roll. He felt powerful, lording over Carl like he was his fat bitch.

A year passed and Carl had practically exploded with fat. Wanton feederism and an unbridled desire to gain had pushed him into an unclassified level of obesity.

“Ishhh it - huff huff huff - you Brshh?” - Carl’s face was now so fat that his mouth almost constantly puckered. It impeded the proper formation of words.

Somehow his actual head was fat. His forehead had started to bulge outwards, the meat roll on the back of his head had continued to grow around, pinching his ears between that fat and the tyre of adipose that formed his neck. His eyes were barely visible, squinting from underneath cheeks that might have been holding tennis balls. Brax kept Carl’s head shaved. He enjoyed seeing the rolls get bigger and if he decided to shoot his load over some neck or scalp flab, it was that much easier to clean up afterwards.

His moobs were huge and saggy, the size of shopping bags. His belly was all over the place. His arms had ballooned to almost match his thighs. He couldn’t bend them. He couldn’t lift them. His hands had gotten so fat he couldn’t even wave. Thick rings of chub squashed up to dissect his wrists. There was nary a hint that any bone structure might be swimming in the mass somewhere.

His legs had struggled to pack on more meat, but had somehow accomplished it anyway. They were each like a humpback whale. Now the taper leading to his feet was far less pronounced as his lower legs had widened so much. The gelatinous cankles had swollen and covered up two thirds of each foot. Both of which now looked like giant Cornish pasties on top of them with pebble like toes which were at great risk of being merged into the flabby foot mass.

Neither of them knew how much Carl weighed. You could guess. 1600lbs? 1700? Did it even really matter?

Just talking made him wheeze. Cleaning him was a huge undertaking, both literally and figuratively. It took ages to sponge down that much flesh. He could not move, not even a bit. Brax had installed industrial pulleys around the bed to roll him over and clean out his massive arse. To heft up the ridiculously huge gut to cleanse and occasionally pleasure the boy’s dwindling sex organs.

Carl was humongous and he felt it. He felt so full and bloated. Every part of him ached and pressed on him. He was so tired. His heart was always beating so fast. His breathing was always quickened.

Brax listened to Carl.

“I thinshk - huff huff - l’mssh - huff huff - too fat” he managed to schlop out.

Brax had been waiting for this and could feel himself getting hard. He approached and surveyed his land whale. A hyper obese 28 year old, utterly and completely stuffed with pork from the tip of his fat-encased head to the podges of his buttery bloated toes. A glorious mountain of meat, spread eagle and almost overflowing a bariatric bed. He was utterly helpless and indeed, by every reasonable metric, much too fat.

Bending down so his mouth was level with Carl’s fad swaddled ear:

“Did you say, too fat?”

“Huuuh huff… hmmmmm ehhh”

Brax lay a hand on the boy’s vast expanse of belly apron. Soft and warm. Pushing into it he shook the great mass, causing the lad to wince and fart. He groaned. His body jiggled and sloshed like an excited blamange for several seconds.

“You’re still moving - meatball.”

Brax lightly nibbled Carl’s thick neck roll.

An intense feeling of dread and excitement filled his mind. At that moment he knew. Brax owned him. He was a meatball. He was going to keep eating and growing until it ended because only then would he stop moving… Deep within Carl’s FUPA his tiny buried cock was solid. Out squelched a dollop of sweet, greasy blob jizz.