His projected cravings

Chapter 2

“Ah, uh. I,” you’re stuttering in that way you do when your mind is blank, overtaken with nothing but pleasure. He’s used to hearing that when you two f*ck, not when Nick is actively making fun of you for your weight. “I got too fat,” you start, eyes meeting Nick’s, as if he’s asking to be humiliated for the story about to leave your lips. “They kept warning me, saying I was getting fat, the clothes were getting too small, and it wasn’t… wasn’t a modeling gig for pigs.” Whining, you lean back, stick your gut out further and make your double chins look worse. “They said I was ruining my body, ruining their brand. I got fired when…” You take a moment, shiver to yourself. “When my belly ripped out of my corset during a public photoshoot. There was an audience and everything, so many cameras. Uh, so many articles written about me, so much laughter.” You bite your lip and mewls, thighs trying to get at and rub your buried clit.

Nick cackles, he remembers that vividly, so many people had looked and asked Nick if he was okay, as if your shame, your ballooning waistline was something he had to be embarrassed about. He regales that, evil glint in his eyes. “And now, you just sit on your ass and eat all day.” A chuckle, then, “remember how people kept asking why I was still with you, if I was okay? Because being seen with you, being associated with you, was so disgraceful?” You nod vigorously, take the offered stack of burgers Nick gives you and start in on them. But Nick isn’t done with you yet. “Who else saw those videos of you publicly humiliating yourself? Hm?”

Mouth full of food, you whimper, “my ex and yours.”

“And what did they say?”

You gulp down the food and answer shyly, “your ex said, saying it was funny. That you got what you deserved for breaking up with her. Nn, then she ordered takeout to our house for me to eat. To make me fatter, to make me worse.” You look positively humiliated at the memory, at the victory lap Nick’s ex had taken at seeing you ruin yourself. But you look so, so turned on, keep bouncing up and down, seemingly hoping your fatpad will provide some friction.

“‘nd then mine. My ex, he… He posted the video and laughed at me, said I was a dodged bullet, that he felt bad for you for being with such a fatty. Kept going on that I got what I deserved for leaving him too. Ngh, it was so embarrassing.” You sob out, shoving your face into your food. “People were talking about it for weeks.”

A smug look is what you get in return. “Who are those tears for? You’ll get no sympathy from me, hog. You ate yourself into the blob you are.” Nick says, looking into your wet eyes. “God, you were even on some news websites, remember that? Your before and after photos plastered on the TV and internet. Even in trashy magazines. If only they could see you now.” Nick watches as you finish the burgers, leaving more grease on your face.

“They’d laugh at me.”

Nick agrees. “And you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?”

Shamefaced, you nod.

A loud, watery gurgle fills the room and you wince. Your stomach never has quite gotten used to your new diet of only junk food. You are always nursing indigestion or are backed up or something. It’s really embarrassing for you. Nick loves it. He recalls the one time you both went to the doctor’s because you hadn’t gone to the bathroom to relieve your gut in over a week. It turned out it was constipation caused by severe overeating and a bad diet. You had been mortified. Your doctor never truly stopped badgering you to lose weight. You've been your patient since you were a model, and now he’s a morbidly obese slob.

Grinning at the memory, Nick says, “and everyone always feels bad for me. Always wonder why I’m with such an ugly blob.” He offers you the last milkshake he bought, and the hog slurps on the straw right away. Never mind that your gut hates dairy. “People still flirt with me. Remember that girl who tried to pick me up in front of you? Said the choice was obvious.” You just nod and moan into your milkshake. You have a hand on your belly now, rubbing slowly as it bloats up loudly. “I mean, who in their right mind would be with someone who breaks scales just from standing on them? Who gets stuck in changing room stalls and pops buttons in public?” You, slob that you are, pass gas in response.

And speaking of buttons, the one on your jeans is creaking beyond loud. Just a little more and it’ll pop. They’re the biggest pair of pants you own. Bigger than Nick’s ever been.

Finishing the shake, you belch and whine when your head is tilted back and greasy fries are poured in.

God, Nick can’t get enough of this. Of fattening his boyfriend up. The fact that you like it too is beyond wonderful. Everything is falling into place, into the perfect shape that leaves Nick on top and you at the bottom. To see what was once the epitome of perfection become effectively useless delights him beyond measure. Where you used to stand on the top of the pecking order, Nick now does. And Nick wants to share his victory, wants to see the look on your face when you realize what Nick’s done. With the way things are going, being the fat whore you are, you’ll probably moan. And if you’re upset, well, what are you going to do? Eat your feelings? Make your situation worse? You're too fat for anyone but Nick now. No matter what you do, you’ll end up bigger than ever.

“Want to know something funny?”

Your greedy mouth full of fries, you only grunt.

Nick smiles. “I fattened you up on purpose.”

Your eyes widen.

“And I’m going to make sure you never lose it.”

A moment passes in which you look positively stunned, eyes huge and face horrified. And, okay, now that his words are catching up to him, Nick’s realizing how f*cked this all is. He forced his boyfriend to become a morbidly obese mess. Cost you your job, social standing, body, mental prowess. It’s hot, but it’s a little, well, very messed up. But in Nick’s defense, isn’t that how most things that are arousing are?

Biting his lip, Nick feels a very real spark of fear that you genuinely are upset with him. But then, as he had hoped would happen, his boyfriend f*cking mewls. A high-pitched, warbling little thing that sends a shiver down his spine. You gasp, “y-you-? You fattened me up? Made me gain all this weight on purpose?” Another moan as you shake your flabby belly. You glare, but your eyes are heated, molten in their desire. “You ruined me!” You sob a little, stomp your foot and send your fat rippling. Nick remains silent, letting you have your little tantrum. “I was perfect, I had everything! Smart, skinny, popular, successful… everything!” You grope your sagging lower belly and bounce it, whining frustratedly. “Now I’m an ugly fatso who can’t stop eating!” And yet, as you say it, your cheeks redden, round and blushing, sweet as an apple. You’re horny. This is turning you on.

Nick ruining you is a turn-on.

And so with a grin as sharp as a knife, Nick grabs three large cookies and shoves them in your red face, laughing at an evil thing when you whine at you. “And you love it,” he growls. You simply chew your food, and every time you seem to get your bearings to protest, Nick’s there with more food to keep you docile. “You love what I’ve done to you.” You don't even try to deny it.

“I didn’t even do this for you, y’know,” Nick starts, pressing his flat stomach against the bloated ball that is yours. “I did it for myself. I was tired of being fat, of having these cravings and giving into them, only making my situation worse.” His voice is filled with venom, acidic and dire as he gets out years of frustration. “Hated how I was living, just a fat f*cking loser. But then you came along,” his voice turns cold then, but there is an underlying, thick note of pure love. As evil as he is, he loves you. So much. “Mister perfect. Perfect body, perfect mind, perfect life, perfect everything. And you fell for me somehow. Always so sweet, even though you struggle with it.” Even now, Nick is shocked at how he managed to bag someone like you. So sweet and kind and understanding underneath it all. “And I thought that maybe, if I pushed everything I wanted, everything I was, onto you, maybe I could change. Maybe we could change. An exchange of places, of lives.” He looks to you, at the pathetic thing he has made you into. “And you fell for it so damn easily.”

A manic laugh, then, as Nick grabs whatever food is left on the table and mushes it into your mouth, ignoring your sobbing little whimpers, ignoring the shaking of your thighs.

“Every time, you always said you’d work it off, or your metabolism would handle it… Said I didn’t need to feel bad about feeding you so much, about making you eat so badly. You called me beautiful, said I was fine the way I was. And when I started pushing it onto you, you were so patient. So easy. You encouraged me to work out while you sat there, digesting a mountain of calories.” Nick grins as he shoves the unholy combination of a cookie and nuggets into your mouth, followed by soda. “You taught me how to eat healthy while gorging on the junk food I was craving. You lost your modeling job and social status while people started flocking to me for being so fit and healthy.”

Nick hums, delight leaking from every pore, “you gave me everything.” Nick runs his lithe fingers over his modelesque body, a complete contrast to the bloated mess that your body is now. “And all it took was destroying you.” He presses a kiss to your messy lips. “Thank you, love.”

For your part, you keep eating and eating, ravenous despite the revelations and your stomach audibly groaning in protest. Nick sees the empty ice cream gallons in the recycling and knows you were gorging yourself beforehand. You can say you hate your diet all you want but-

“I hate what you did to me.” You mumbles through a full mouth. You're eating everything Nick’s giving you at top speed. “I hate my diet, hate what a loser I am now, and I hate my fat body.” You shiver. “And that just turns me on so much, f*ck! I don’t know why!” Confusedly, you whimper, squishing your thighs together, begging for stimulation.

“Damn right, you do, you disgusting pig.” A bit of glee flutters in his chest as Nick shoves the last of the food in your blubbery face. Nick watches for a moment as you finish your meal, listens to your stomach groan loudly, watches as his once-dominant partner falls into submission next to him. He observes every fat roll and bloated mound of lard covering your body. His eyes trace every stretch mark, every patch of greasy skin, every pocket of cellulite…

And then, even more of his pent-up frustration comes pouring out, he sees what he could have been, what he perceived himself as, what others called him. What you are.

“God, what happened to you? You used to be so hot, now look at you!” Nick pinches your, frankly massive, double and triple chins. “Hard to tell there’s a pretty face under all this lard.” He smirks at your mewl, at how your thighs start rubbing together even harder. “Most people don’t have three chins. You fat, no-neck pig.” Nick places the last cup of soda in your chubby hand. You know what to do. And, lo and behold, a moment later you are sipping from the straw, groaning nauseously as your stomach visibly bloats out further. Your jeans creak dangerously.

Pinching your partially exposed fupa, then, Nick sneers, “God, look at this. Your pussy used to be so small and hot! I can’t even see it anymore.” Rubbing a little lower, he tickles his fingers over the tangible wet spot. “That big t-dick you were so proud of growing, all swallowed up by fat.” Nick pats the pocket of fat above your pussy. “You’re lucky I’m still willing to go looking for your fat cunt.” You start drinking faster, your tummy growing bigger and louder, your whimpers getting higher and higher.

Finally, Nick looks at your massive, fat gut. Your crowning achievement, always stuffed, always bloated with something or another. It is in a constant state of digestion, churning all the greasy, sugary shit you eat into more blubber. Nick slinks up semi-behind you and slaps at your belly like a toy drum, listening to the tight smacking noises it makes. You're full all right. You burp nastily in response, moaning in pain and pleasure, the masochistic, fat bitch you are.

“God, and look at this gut of yours. You used to have abs, your bones used to stick out all pretty.” He sucks his teeth and lifts your belly by your belly button. It wobbles, obscene as it settles back onto your chunky thighs.

Looking down from behind you, Nick sees your body the way you do. A mountain of fat bloating out your whole person, always growing, always gaining. It completely blocks his view of anything else. Can you even see around it? Nick kneads into the fat surrounding the hard organ of your stomach, smiles softly when you press your belly into his hands, mewling sweetly for him. You're so pathetic.

Nick continues, “now look at this thing. Always digesting, gurgling loudly as it melts all those empty calories you eat into more soft fat. Making you bigger…” Nick kisses along your flabby jowls, smiling as he sinks right in. “Even now. Everything you’re eating is slowly changing into more fat.” His voice is sensual, now; low and husky. You shiver. “It’s always making you so gassy too.” He squeezes your lower belly and delights when you pass gas loudly, ashamedly.

Nick goes on, “you’ve got this muffin top, these massive love handles… you look like a f*cking parade float.” Nick laughs to himself, pulling and bouncing the fat in his palms. Your jeans groan.

“Not to mention your tits.” Nick gropes them, a note of admiration in his voice. “They used to be so cute and perky. Now look at them! Saggy like cow udders.” He squeezes them, almost painfully.

“God, and you like it, don’t you? You like what a blob you’ve turned into. That you can’t control your appetite, that you can’t help but keep gaining weight, getting fatter and fatter.” Nick laughs to himself, watches as you nod, shamefaced and horny. “You like that your dumb piggy brain can only think of eating more and more food like an out-of-control glutton. You like that everyone makes fun of how fat you are. You like being a disgusting, fat slob, don’t you?”

You just nod.

By now, you have finished your soda, drop the cup with a hearty belch as you let Nick use your body like a fat toy for him to play with. You eye Nick’s skinny hands as they press into your thick fat; listening to his voice degrade you. Your belly is loud and you can’t stop burping and farting and moaning and you look like you’re going to f*cking cum. Nick can’t get enough. He goes on, “you know, it’s been funny watching you blow up like a balloon. People always laugh about you behind your back. Call you names, take pictures, point, and laugh at the fat freak you are.” You shiver.

“They make bets on how big you’re going to blow up to, how much more lard you’ll inflate with. There’s an ongoing bet about your weight right now…” Nick chuckles, asks, “how heavy are you, by the way?”

You shrug, to which Nick furrows his brow, “we just got a new scale, fatty, and I saw it lying around. So how much does my fat piggy weigh?”

A small mumble.

“Louder.”

“I don’t know!”

Nick looks at you, baffled. So you explain, “the scale caps at 400, and when I checked today it… it said ‘error’… so I don’t know.”

It only takes a moment before Nick is on you again, kissing you roughly. He growls into your oily mouth, “you disgusting, fat f*ck. Made yourself into such a pig that not even a scale can tell you how fat you are.” He rubs at your belly more aggressively, shakes it, and delights when he feels gas bubbles build inside. “You had it all, but you threw it away for nothing but greed.” He kisses you again, but you try to push him away, Nick can hear your stomach roar desperately. He smirks and presses down harder, and-

You burp into his mouth.

Nick pulls away, gagging, but his cock is rock-hard. You’re whimpering, mortified as you burp at Nick’s face and fart loudly. Nick grips your fat face and snarls, “you gross hog.”

Your pants are making a horrible stretching noise now. Just a little more and they’d pop. Eyes scanning the table for something to shove in your mouth, Nick notices a lone cookie, half-eaten and hidden by wrappers. That simply won’t do. Grinning maniacally, he shoves the cookie in your ashamed face, shuts up your frantic apologies and whines.

“Shut up,” Nick says. Smacking your belly. “God, you’re disgusting. Just a fat slob, aren’t you? F*cking pig.”

You swallow the cookie as you hum out little noises of pleasure and agreement. A loud tearing noise fills the room suddenly, and-

The button on your pants finally pops off.

Your belly and fupa flooding forth, you wail, “‘m such a fat pig!” Your body goes taut, jiggling with little shivers and whimpers. Your face is one of pure ecstasy.

Nick stares for a moment.

Did you just cum? Untouched? From having your belly played with and with Nick degrading you?

When you continue to seemingly cum, Nick whispers, “that’s it. Cum for me, pig. This is all you are now. Just a dumb, useless pig who eats and gets fatter, a hedonist who wants nothing but pleasure. All. For. Me.” He feels his cock throb in his pants, grinds frantically against your side, loses himself to your buttery rolls as he growls, “you’re mine. My pig. I did this. I ruined you. You hear me?” When he gets a frantic nod in return, Nick grinds faster, he’s close. And so he snarls, “say it.” He wants to hear it, to have you admit it.

And you do. “I’m yours! Y-your fat pig! O-oink! Your dirty f*cking slob. Yours to-o ruin and make fun of and fa-fatten up. I’m yours, Nick.” And Nick cums. It’s one of the best orgasms he’s ever had.

The two of you take a moment to calm down, panting and riding your highs. Still rubbing your belly, it’s Nick who breaks the silence. “That was amazing.” He turns and kisses his boyfriend hard, resting his forehead against yours for a moment. You nod, still panting heavily.

But you are never this quiet for so long. So Nick hedges, “are you okay?”

You simply laugh, breathy and sweet. “I’ve never been better, Nick. F*ck. That was so hot. I can’t believe you! You’re insane!” You scowl at him, but it quickly fades to a tired smile. “But also so f*cking hot. Ugh, it feels so good.” As your eyes begin drifting closed, Nick blinks at your serene face.

“You’re not mad?”

He gets a laugh in response. “Not really. You just gave me the best orgasm of my life and f*cking… unlocked some weird kink I didn’t even know I had. F*ck.” You open your eyes and smirk lazily at Nick. Nick’s heart flutters. “Now c’mon. There’s a cake in the fridge and a bed with our name on it.”

Nick stares at you, face red and shocked.

You continue, delighted, “you better make good on your promise.” You burp and lean back into the cushions, “you’re gonna make me so big,” you hum.

And Nick smiles.

“Bigger than you ever thought possible.”