chapter 15

15.

Dom got started on feeding Mac again straight away. Now that he had given in, any concept of restraint was thrown out of the window. Food was paraded toward Mac nearly all day, which with his appetite was almost needed to keep hunger at bay. Clothes were outgrown, or simply burst off of his growing body with shocking speed.

Every morning Mac woke up feeling fatter. The simple task of getting out of bed in the morning had become an increasingly difficult endeavor. So weighed down in lard, there was no hope of leaning forward. Instead, Mac would roll himself to the side, the sensation of all his rolls and folds squishing against the bed and each other enough to get him hard. His gait had become a permanent waddle. Getting his massive frame to the donut couch each day counted as his ‘workout,’ which left him wheezing and red faced for fifteen minutes afterward. Mac grew and widened, taking up more space as he rocketed toward 400 pounds.

Mac knew this fetish had stolen control of his life. He knew what he was doing was dangerous. It didn’t matter, the pleasure was too great. He shut his eyes and ate. His entire body had turned into an erogenous zone. A simple flick to his nipple or poke to his pendulous gut got him aroused. Mac wondered if he would ever get used to being this way, or if he’d eventually tire of the sensations, wanting more. He had these moments where all he wanted to do was get bigger. The broken chair at his parents' place had awakened that hunger and brought it to a new level. Still, for now just the simple act of walking had him lost in a lusty haze. His thighs rubbing against his belly and fat pad, his arms and tits and back rolls swaying with each step. All of him was huge and fat and made him extremely horny.

“Gurglelele,” Mac's stomach complained. He snapped his eyes open, rubbing at the gut that pushed out close to his knees. Dom had purchased a car that specialized in moving large people around. A van-like contraption, Mac was the only passenger. His seat was reinforced, could swivel, and the height of the cab adjusted to make getting in and out easier.

“Somones hungry,” Dom cooed from the driver's seat, his grin wicked. Mac chuckled. It was hard to believe how intense his hunger pains could get. He had eaten less than an hour ago, yet he felt as close to starving as he ever did when he was thin. A sudden thought dawned on the fat man.

‘Even if I didn’t have this kink,’ Mac thought, ‘there’s no way I could lose weight now. This is just too much discomfort to deal with all day.’

For the first time Mac felt bad for obese people, and thought of himself as one. He reflected on the times he had been less than nice to those bigger than him, right until the car stopped at McDonalds. Mac’s face lit up, his stomach growling as the side door slid open. Sun poured in around Dom’s bearish physique.

“Ready to celebrate 400 pounds, my porky prince?”

Mac nodded his head so fast his chins jostled. Dom put out both hands and grabbed Mac’s, needing serious effort to get the whale to his feet. Dom looked him over approvingly. He truly was a bag of lard. Mac poured out in all directions. His thighs were as wide as his waist used to be, his ass far too large for most seats. A wide ball of a belly drooped over his waistband and pooched out from under his shirt, slapping into his thighs with each step. Everything was covered in inches of fat, even his fingers looked like sausages. Dom laughed.

“Excellent. You haul your fat ass inside, I’m going ahead. Your first order should be ready when you waddle in.”

Mac had to stifle a moan. All of this was so expectant and humiliating. Already he was getting stares from the drive through line, a growing occurrence.

“Wait, but-”

Dom waved and jogged to the front door. Mac frowned and got one overinflated trunk of a leg forward, then the next, the force from his thigh fat slapping almost enough to throw him off balance. Mac half raised his arms to gain balance, his bingo wings wobbling wildly. He let them fall to his side rolls, the weight of his added fat too much for his atrophied arm muscles. Mac wheezed his way toward the door, which looked alarmingly small. A patron looked on horrified as Mac shuffled in sideways, but he did get through relatively easily.

“Over here!” Dom called, casually sitting at a booth with four loaded up trays. Mac wiped his sweat drenched forehead and got moving again, but not before his stomach sent out a fresh round of groans.

It was fair game inside the McDonalds. High schoolers openly stared, their parents not doing much better. Mac was so out of breath by the time he reached Dom he thought he might faint. He looked at Dom then the booth again, incredulously.

“I- huff, can’t- huff, fit in there!”

Dom looked like an excited parent about to give their child a holiday gift.

“I measured, and yes you can. Cram yourself in there fatty.”

Mac cursed his groin for agreeing and awkwardly lowered himself into the seat. His thighs trembled with the trouble of keeping his huge body from falling, only moving his bulk onto the plastic platform with seconds to spare. Mac pushed on the floor, his gut already pressing heavily into the table. He pushed over an inch at a time, eventually sitting, more wedged, into the seat. Mac’s hands sat atop his planet of a belly, breaths short and ragged.

“You really should get back to the gym, you have no muscles to move around all that lard.”

Mac scowled.

“I got in here, didn’t I?”

“After like ten minutes.” Dom pushed the trays close enough for Mac to grab over his belly. “Whatever. Time to eat, big boy.”

Mac ate greedily, grabbing at the wrapped burgers and chicken sandwiches like they were prized property. Each food item was shoved unceremoniously into his maw, the hunger demanding. Even while eating his stomach howled for more.

‘Stupid burgers aren’t nearly big enough,’ Mac throught, squeezing one and fitting the entire sandwich in his mouth, ‘it’s like I’m throwing food down a well.’

Everything fell away as Mac gorged. He ate and ate, at this point doing it out of legitimate hunger as well as to arouse himself. The stares and laughter, the discomfort of the table pushing into his gut, nothing compared to the joy of shoving sandwich after sandwich between his lips. Anything to satisfy his black hole of a stomach. Mac went on, not noticing Dom going back up once, then again. Mac only knew how to reach out a fat hand and get another fried treat. After nearly an hour of this, Dom leaned forward.

“You're probably wondering what your gift was for hitting 400, huh?”

Mac nodded as he stacked two apple pies together and took a huge bite, syrup dribbling down his chins. A belch erupted past his cheeks. The food was finally catching up to Mac now, his stubby hands rubbing at the massive expanse of fat around his middle to relieve the bloat.

“I’ll give you a hint. Go on, try and get up!”

Mac rolled his eyes and finished the pies. He loved how Dom exaggerated how fat he was, but this was ridiculous. Mac put his hands on the table and pressed down. It was muscle memory left over from a far thinner time in his life. The only thing Mac felt was additional pressure on his loaded stomach, the table stopping any movement.

“Having trouble?” Dom whispered, unable to contain his glee. Mac let out an incredulous cough and tried again, this time pressing to the side. Again, his stomach smushed against the table, but nothing happened. Mac groaned. He ignored how victorious Dom looked and tried using his feet. He scrambled against the tile floor for purchase, pushing with both hands and legs in an attempt to heave his blob-like body from the booth. His fat bunched up as he pushed, sloshing back to normal once Mac ran out of steam. He was sweating now, breathing heavily. A look of true panic reached his eyes as he realized exactly what his situation was. In one last attempt Mac heaved himself to the side, the only reaction to the move a belch and thunderous fart.

Dom leaned over the table, a hunter's grin on his face. He reached up and flicked Mac’s nipple, producing a laugh from the high schoolers across the room.

“Aww, did someone have a bit too much to eat?”

Mac’s face went bright red. His erection was throbbing, yet the real world consequences cut through the lust.

“This isn’t funny!” Mac hissed, grunting as he tried to push himself yet again, “I’m stuck, everyone's staring.”

Dom didn’t stop.

“I think it’s extremely funny. Former twink ate himself so huge he’s totally beached. This McDonald’s contributed to more than a few of those pounds pushing onto the table. Very fitting. And what’s worse-” Dom pulled out one last burger, a triple quarter pounder with cheese, and pushed it close enough for Mac to reach. “You can’t stop eating.”

Mac swallowed. This was further than they had ever gone with their feeder play. If Mac ate this it was certain the restaurant would need to remove the bolted down table. If Mac just sat and digested for a while he could get back out in time, but he knew Dom wouldn’t let that happen.

“They're gonna need to call a technician to get you out anyway, unless you want to sit here for hours,” Dom said, as if reading Mac’s mind, “go ahead, eat the burger. I know you're still hungry.”

Mac felt like his skin was going to burn he was so flushed. Patrons had begun to realize his predicament, the incredulous laughter only adding to his humiliation. Mac squirmed. He couldn’t reach his manhood even if he wanted to, but the fat pressing on all sides of it edged him mercilessly. His stomach growled. Mac looked from Dom to the burger, sweat leaking down his temples.

‘I can’t eat this, I just can’t. I can get out of this booth myself, I’m not that fat yet. There's no way,’ Mac thought. Seconds later though, his cock won out. Mac leaned forward as much as the table allowed, his hand inches away from the last burger. Dom chuckled.

“Can’t even reach halfway across the table. You really need to go on a diet, fatso.”

Mac let out a whimper as he came into his fat pad. Dom relented, pushing the burger forward. Mac ate it in four huge bites, the pressure of the table edge on him momentarily forgotten.

“Oof,” escaped Mac’s fat lips. As soon as he finished, Mac felt the pressure return doubly. If there was any chance he could get out before it was gone now. Mac met Dom’s gaze sheepishly.

“I thought so.”

Dom got out of the booth and moved to the front of the restaurant. Loudly, as if annoyed, he pointed to Mac and explained the situation to the manager. Occasionally, Dom would meet Mac’s eyes, cruel lust staining them. Mac eventually had to close his eyes from shame as two burly looking men came and removed the table. The din of laughter and talk at his pathetic display dominated the restaurant as Dom and Mac waddled out. Before they reached the car Dom slapped Mac’s ass.

“Well, piggy? Where to next?”


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