Chapter 1

CW: weight gain, stuffing, bloating, extreme humiliation/degradation/teasing/bullying, (seemingly) forced weight gain, fat shaming, force feeding, slob, gas, downgrade, 2nd person POV, transmasc reader.

“Takeout again? I don't think I can handle much more of this, Nick.” You look at the grease-stained paper bags warily, hand on your fattened stomach. It gurgles in response, enticed by the smell of fried food despite your words.

Sucking his teeth, Nick simply opens the bags and takes out a seemingly endless supply of food, way more than what he would usually order for his boyfriend. His cravings are strong tonight. So it’s not about you thinking if you can handle it, it’s you handling it whether you like it or not. He says, “of course you can,” and places an oily burger in his boyfriend’s pudgy palms.

The other looks at it for a moment, face queasy before sighing and taking a bite out of it, a tired but pleased moan following after. “Nick, I can’t keep eating like this. All you ever get me is junk food and it’s… really, really starting to show.” You shift then, pants creaking dangerously around your waist as you pat your protruding gut.

“I thought you liked this kind of food?” Nick counters, eyes sharp as a hawk as you finish your first burger in record time. He quickly goes for another, taking a handful of oily fries and a large gulp of soda too. Despite your complaints, you seem eager to stuff your round face.

Mouth full of food, you swallow and release a small burp before muttering, “I do, but-“

“Then enjoy yourself. You work hard, you deserve it,” Nick interrupts, words eloquent and voice convincing. It makes his boyfriend pause, shoulder slumping in defeat before nodding and going right back to eating. God, Nick’s turned you into such a pig. And that was no easy feat, mind.

You used to be a bit of a health nut, constantly working out and counting calories, the epitome of healthy and fit. In that sense, they’ve switched places somewhat.

When the two of you first got together, Nick was a bit on the chubbier side, while you were all lithe muscle. Nick had always struggled with his weight, never being able to beat his cravings for junk food. When Nick got a craving, it hit hard. He couldn’t control himself, he had to buy it and eat it, gorge himself on it until he couldn’t move. It made it hard to exercise or do much of anything when his stomach was constantly digesting pure grease and sugar.

This is, unfortunately, where you come in. One night, Nick had ordered himself an entire pizza despite having just gorged on countless bags of chips earlier. His need to have the food outweighed his actual capacity for eating it. Unable to even eat a slice, Nick asked you if you would be willing to eat it; he hated leftovers and didn’t want it to go to waste. And so, the amazing boyfriend you were, you managed to eat the entire thing. Although you lightheartedly complained that Nick was ruining your diet. You’d ended the night with a hugely bloated, aching belly. And, settled beside you, rubbing away the ache he’d caused while finally having beaten his cravings, Nick hatched an idea.

If Nick could just… push all his cravings onto you, live vicariously through you, maybe he would stand a chance at getting in shape. Yeah, it was maybe a little backhanded and sneaky, but Nick never claimed to be a beacon of moral upstanding.

And so it began, though, not without difficulty. At first, you were resistant, kept denying the food, and needed a lot of coercion to eat, especially with the quantity and frequency Nick was buying junk food. Most of the time, Nick ended up hand-feeding you, rubbing your belly and murmuring how good you were being.

It was hard at first. Your stomach wasn’t used to so much grease and sugar. You’d often end up painfully bloated and gassy, tummy loud with indigestion. Nick took great care in making sure his boyfriend was all right.

Then came the next part of his plan. It turned Nick on. A lot. Seeing his boyfriend all gross-feeling and bloated, often gassy and whiney and pained… it was a lot for him, turned him on something fierce. And when you inevitably started packing on the pounds? Nick was positively defenseless. He had no idea he would react like this, but Nick’s self-control was always shoddy at best. So why deny himself this pleasure?

Nick thought if he could derive pleasure from it, why couldn’t you? Maybe that would make these forced stuffings a little less one-sided. And so he trained his boyfriend like one would a pup. Every time you were stuffing yourself or were bloated beyond belief, Nick would get you off, would rub and lick and fuck your pussy until you cried.

From there on out, Nick noticed that you would get horny on your own during stuffings, even if you were clearly ashamed of yourself. You didn’t initiate often due to that embarrassment, but Nick could tell. Oh, could he tell. You had tells when you were horny; your thighs would clench, legs would bounce, brows would furrow, your voice got whiney and your cheeks would flush. In one word, you got shy. And Nick was all too keen to take advantage.

It was easy to persuade you from going to the gym at that point. With a constantly queasy belly full of unhealthy calories, it didn't take much convincing for you to stay home.

It was motivating, in a sense, to see someone so fit and perfect fall from grace so badly. To see someone who swore by salads and vegetables take on all of his most unhealthy cravings. To watch a former gym rat barely deign to get up off the couch. To watch as you lost all manners and became something of a slob. To watch as a conventionally attractive bombshell turned themselves into an absolute blob.

And you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were always supportive and sweet over Nick’s weight. Always there for him despite how hard it was for him to show vulnerability, despite how catty Nick could be. You didn’t deserve to be turned into a whale against your will by his scheming boyfriend. But Nick couldn’t help it. He needed this. Needed to get control of his cravings, his health, his weight, his life. And if switching places with you is what does it, then so be it.

A hearty belch and moan interrupts Nick’s inner monologue. He focuses his eyes on the image in front of him, biting his lip. You’ve gotten your hands on two of the cookies Nick also bought. You have them sandwiched and dipped in milkshake, moaning around each mouthful. “Mm, so good,” you whimper. Nick notices your thighs begin to shake. Good.

Gliding his thin hands along your plush stomach, Nick rests them on the top, where it domes out hugely. He presses along the doughy flesh, kneading it as such. “I thought you didn’t want to eat it?” Nick teases, but there’s something serious in his tone; accusatory. He’s trying to get you to admit you like this.

It takes a moment for you to respond, your cheeks full of cookies. You take a hearty sip of your milkshake to wash it all down before saying, “I don’t! I just,” you paused to burp, chubby hand patting your belly after. “God, it’s just… I really shouldn't be eating so badly all the time. Look what you’re doing to me, Nick! I just…” Despite the words leaving your lips, Nick watches as you shove a handful of oily fries into your mouth. You're completely enslaved by your gluttony, mindless in the face of it.

Nick raises a perfectly trimmed brow at you, watching as your face, seemingly distressed, grows more frantic at Nick’s next words. “You just…?”

A whimper from behind a mouthful of burger and soda, then. You go to reply, but think better of it, choosing instead to stuff your bloated face with more greasy and sugary shit. And what a cute face it is. A thick double chin with a growing roll underneath, completely obscuring what was once a slender neck. Your cheeks are plump and sag gently into jowls. Sometimes, it looks like your cheeks squint your eyes and purse your lips. Nick’s never seen a face so soft and obscured with fat.

You used to have a model’s face and body. Ruining it and taking it for his own is Nick’s greatest accomplishment.

Slender, lithe, graceful; all words used to describe you once upon a time. You were perfect, handsome; someone to envy in your ethereal beauty. You were outwardly beautiful, of course; small but strong, muscles peaking along your strong bones. But you were also active, smart, responsible. You were the epitome of health and fitness, had great drive and motivation. Nick used to envy you.

Not anymore.

Using those words to describe you now is laughable.

Now when people describe you, it’s about how he’s changed; how much of a downgrade he’s become. You're morbidly obese, beyond just fat. You're lazy, a gross slob, dumb as a pig. You're a cautionary tale, a dodged bullet, what no one wants to be. You have no manners and sit on your growing ass all day, eating yourself fatter and fatter.

Where there was a flat stomach with abs now lies a huge sack of bloated fat. With a deep belly button and skin riddled with stretch marks, your gut is a site to behold. It’s in two rolls, creasing at your belly button. Though a slight one is forming under your sagging, once perky tits. And another huge pocket of fat has formed underneath your gut; a fupa that hides just about everything interesting down there. Not that anyone but Nick is ever going to want to look anymore.

Dainty hips turned into billowing love handles that muffin out ridiculously in your too-small clothes. Those fat sides cause the bingo-wings of your arms to rest funnily outward at all times.

The fat travels and plumps your body from your fingers to your toes, thickening and cratering your thighs and ass with cellulite. And your ass is more wide than round these days, no longer perky and firm. It gives you a distinct apple shape, most of the weight settled on your flabby gut. Unattractive as they come.

From the lard shrouding your face to the bloated look of your cankles, you are no longer the pretty model you once were. And you never will be again. All thanks to Nick.

Each pound you gain is as good as permanent. After gaining too much to be a model and after a certain incident at the gym, losing weight is an impossibility.

Nick remembers the one time you tried to go to the gym, only to come back soon after, completely quiet and flushed; humiliated. You’d initiated your first binge session then, all on your own. Had raided the fridge for leftover takeout and cake, gorging yourself until the fridge was empty. And after hours of prying, Nick finally got you to admit your old gym friends had teased you for letting yourself go, at being unable to do half the workouts you used to be able to, at your obviously too-small clothes. And that had subsequently led to you eating yourself even bigger.

He’d fucked you stupid afterward, shushing your whimpers when he’d burp from being jostled around too much. With your big gut sloshing and wobbling between them; your tits and fupa bouncing with every thrust… and the angle making your already prominent double chins even bigger; It was some of the best sex you’d both ever had.

Nick takes great pleasure in ruining his boyfriend. He revels in your humiliation, the switch of their weights and habits. And the best part? You seem to be in denial that you like it too.

Which is why it’s so easy for Nick to get you to eat. Deep down, you love letting go, love how he’s ballooning and love the slob you have become. Nick has either genuinely conditioned you to like it; or has unearthed a hidden desire. Either way, it makes Nick want to ruin you even more.

And so Nick stops you from eating, steels himself against the puppy eyes and glare and says, “what were you going to say?”

You shiver, bite your plump bottom lip, and, with your deepened, once sensual voice, admit… something. Your mumbling is hard to decipher. When you try to reach forward and take more food with a piggish grunt, Nick pushes you back down with ease. He smirks as the lard on your body wobbles almost comically. You really are cartoonishly fat.

“Answer me properly.” Nick’s voice is demanding, taunting you. “Or no more food.” A smirk falls into place and he pushes the wrapped goodies away.

Indignation floods your expression. “Huh? What do you mean? I can literally just get it myself.” Scoffing, you glare. It would probably be more effective if your face wasn’t so ridiculously fat.

Smiling sweetly, Nick says, “then get up and get it. Or are you too damn fat?” His smile turns malicious.

With a growl of, “what the hell, Nick?” You try to get up. You plant your chubby feet on the floor, pudgy hands on your thighs, and lift. You get about a quarter of the way before you slam back down on the couch, wincing as it creaks in warning. You try again, one hand on your belly to prevent it from jostling so much. All this attempt elicits is a mighty belch from the pressure. “Come… ngh, on!” You huff, round cheeks turning red from exertion.

The more you try, the more aroused you look. You keep licking your lips, keep mewling in the way you do when Nick rubs your clit hard enough to bruise. You're enjoying this. And so Nick decides to push just a little further.

“Are you even trying? Fat*ss.”

With one final heave, you fail and slam back down into the couch. Only this time, the couch lets out a loud snap as the whole thing lowers substantially. Silence.

“Did I just…?” Your voice is a mixture between need and mortification, a delicious concoction Nick wants to drown in. You can’t believe it. Nick can’t believe it. His blob of a boyfriend just broke their couch.

“Break the couch? Yeah, you did. You’re too heavy now.” Nick bites his lip, feeling his cock harden almost painfully. Fuck, nothing gets him off more than humiliating the lardass in front of him.

Left speechless, you sputter, hands going to your belly when it growls loudly in hunger. You look to Nick then, eyes wet and pathetic. The same look you get when you really, really want a cock in you. Only this time you seem to be begging for food, like a dog.

“And yet, you’re still hungry.” Nick whistles lowly. “You say you don’t want to eat this shit but,” he grabs a burger and shoves it in your fat f*cking face. “You can’t stop, can you?” He shivers when you moan around the mouthful, and watches with heated eyes as you meekly shake your head. Nick sucks his teeth, “say it,” he demands. “Admit that you can’t stop stuffing yourself, can’t stop fattening yourself up bigger and bigger. Admit you’re just a fat, greedy pig who likes being a fat slob,” he snarls.

And surprisingly, with an orgasmic whine, you acquiesce. “I can’t stop eating.” Shame drips from every word, arousal swimming in your eyes. “Can’t stop blowing up like a f*cking balloon. I don’t know why, I don’t want to be this fat, to eat this much all the time.” You jump up when Nick pushes the food closer to you again. “I can’t stop!” You cry out, shoving more greasy food in your bloated face.

He genuinely can’t stop, Nick realizes with a bone-deep arousal. You're addicted to this, completely at the mercy of your greed and gluttony. Nick did this. Nick ruined your body, your life, your everything and you're both getting off on it.

But you're not done, now that the gates have burst open, all that’s left is a flood. “Oh my god, it turns me on so much, being such a fat slob, such an ugly pig.” You whimper and finish your burger, getting grease all over yourself. You reach for a cup of soda next, moaning out between mouthfuls, “I don’t know what you did to me… I used to hate junk food, loved being active; people used to look up to me! I was perfect.” You shudder. “And now look at me.” You wobble your gut, watch as the sack of lard jiggles almost endlessly. “I’m a whale.” With a massive belch, as you finish the large cup, you turn to Nick and say, “all because of you.” Nick swallows thickly. Holy shit.

“You ruined me, Nick.”

Nick molds himself to your blubbery side, kisses your oily lips, and licks into the sugary wetness of your mouth, hand gripping your gut painfully. He can taste everything you just ate, can hear your stomach gurgling with everything that’s been crammed in there, can hear swallowed-back burps and held in gas, can feel grease from around your messy mouth. It should repulse him, disgust him. But it just serves to turn him on even more. He pulls away with a gasp and wipes his mouth free of oil. You cringe in shame, and try to apologize, but burp instead.

“Look at you. Such a fat mess.” He smacks and bounces your belly meanly. It jiggles like jello, soft and squishy as a marshmallow. Nick tries to go in for another kiss then, tries to grind on your hip, but your stomach growls in hunger. The fat*ss turns away, and has the gall to say, “mm, no. Please, feed me, Nick. I want more. ‘m so hungry.”

All bets are off.

Nick growls, a feral thing, really, and shoves a handful of fries into your mouth. He doesn’t wait until he’s finished before shoving in more. Nick ignores your shaking head and panicked noises as he pulls your greedy mouth open and dumps the rest of the large package into it. He pinches your nose and smirks when you struggle to chew all that’s been shoved into your mouth. “What’s wrong?” Nick says sweetly. “I thought you wanted more?”

Barely waiting for you to finish your mouthful, Nick releases your nose and pushes the straw of one milkshake between your greasy lips. “Drink, you’re the one who would rather eat than fuck.” He delights in the little shiver that runs down his boyfriend’s roll-filled back. “You’re in no place to deny sex, with how you look. You’re lucky anyone even wants to fuck your lardass.” Nick’s really letting loose, letting out pent-up sexual desire and frustration. He says what he felt about himself, what he feels about you now, except now it’s tinged with heat.

“Do you even have a hole to fuck? Your pussy’s completely covered!” Nick roughly grabs your fupa, the large chunk that can no longer fit in your pants. “You used to be a model, for fuck’s sake. Your body was your everything.” He pulls away the finished milkshake container and cringes when he gets a nasty belch in response. “Now look at you,” Nick smacks your gut again, wobbles your sagging tits for good measure. “Disgusting.”

A whimper is what he gets in response, then a loud fart partnered with a shy look. Nick sneers at you, “really, that’s all you have to say for yourself?” He picks up a burger and waves it near your face. Pinching your wobbling, drooping chins, Nick presses, “c’mon, fatboy, what happened to you?”

The name makes you throw your head back and groan, hands going to soothe your growling belly. “I don’t know,” you start, voice frantic. “I just… feel so hungry all the time, love being so full. I like getting fatter, I don’t know why! I’m ruined!” Nick laughs and shoves the burger into your mouth, whole.

“Fuck yeah, you are. You ruined your life because you couldn’t stop eating and gaining weight.” With a deep breath, Nick asks, “remind me, pig, how did you lose your job again?”

Looking down in shame, you chew your food and seem to lose yourself in the memory, eyes going hazy like he’s fading into a type of subspace. Nick sucks his teeth, grabs you by your puffy cheeks and snarls, “answer me, you dumb pig.”