Chapter 1

I know what you really want. Not what you claim to want, not what you tell your partner you want, but what you actually, truly desire. What you’ve been insatiably craving for as long as you can remember, what you refuse to acknowledge because of the impact you know your little admission would have on you. What it would do to you to finally, finally give in. To finally let yourself go.

I bet you think you can go the rest of your life ignoring this, huh? I bet you think that roleplaying as a feeder when you’re secretly a feedee will keep you satisfied, will satiate your little fetish just enough for you to get by. But if that’s the case, why are you still thinking about it?

Meeting your partner, convincing and feeding them into gaining 30 pounds, it should be enough for you. You should be happy with their tubby, untoned little belly, their newfound curves and softness, and that should be where you leave things. They’re willing to grow for you, they know how much you like it. They think it's cute. Anyone who was just a feeder would be thrilled, they’d know they hit the jackpot. They’d have everything they want. But you’re not just a feeder, are you?

You certainly look the part. The 6 pack, the muscles definition all over your body, nobody would look at you and think about fat, about any extra weight. Nobody would look at you and think for even a second that you’re anything other than a gym-going health nut. Nobody would ever know that you fantasize about blowing yourself up till you’re unrecognizable, till those rock-hard abs melted into a blubbery, overfed potbelly. Everyone thinks you’re normal.

And you try to pretend, don't you? The cardio, the weight lifting. I bet everyone you know assumes that you have your dream body. They‘d never be able to guess, never in a million years, that your real dream figure is one piled under mounds of fat, one that waddles to the front door to pick up another pizza delivery and struggles to bend down to grab the box, your belly too big to allow you the mobility you once took for granted. That's your dream, isn't it? A dream you can't stop yourself from thinking about at night, a dream you refuse to share because you’re afraid of the power it has over you.

You think you’re in control. That's what all the exercise, your strict diet, that's what it's really all about. A desperate, ineffectual bid for control over your truest desires. You think you're stronger than your impulses. And maybe you have been in the past. Maybe you’re still stronger today. But that strength won’t last. It’ll falter, and all you’ll need is a split second of inattention, a few instances of letting your guard down, and things will quickly grow out of your control.

That's why I’m so confused. Why are you fighting this so hard? You know it's an inevitability. You can pretend it isn't, pretend this is just one small element of your life, but you want it to take over. You want to relinquish control. You know you want it so badly.

You take any little excuse to create situations where you could finally put on a few, finally grow the way you’ve always wanted under some pretense. That's why you agreed to your partner's request, isn't it? Sure, they said they just wanted you to have a little more muscle, keep working out while you put on weight to be a little less skinny, but you and I both know that for someone like you, bulking is dangerous. You and I both know that no matter what you promise yourself you’ll do, no matter what goals you originally set in the beginning, you’ll be obsessed with the way packing yourself full will make you feel. You’ll feel your body get heavier and it’ll make you want to be lazier. You’ll wake up and go to sleep thinking about your next fattening meal, the next time you can order another bacon cheeseburger from Two Star Bar and scarf down the whole thing before scouring the kitchen for snacks.

I’m sure you’ll start with nutritious foods, lots of proteins, healthy fats, but you know your willpower will erode quickly. Calories are calories, right? So it doesn't matter if they come from a protein smoothie or from your sixth slice of greasy, cheese-covered dough, you're just gonna work it all off. Turn it all into muscle. And you're gonna keep telling yourself that until it's too late. Until the changes all over your body are obvious, until your partner is teasing you, poking and prodding your belly like you do to theirs with comments about how you're starting to let yourself go.

Can't you just picture it?

I know you can.

I know you do.

I know you get all worked up thinking of the way you could look a year from now, your little bulk completely devolved into an uncontrollable, unstoppable gain. Because that's the real problem. That's why you struggle so hard for control. You know you wouldn't be able to stop. You know you’d eat until you grew a bloated gut that protruded heavily from your middle, pushing out the fronts of all your shirts and bumping against your desk while you down thousands of calories of junk during your workday. Using those newly tubby fingers to type at your desk would be the most exercise you’d get and you’d be eating nonstop, completely unable to control yourself no matter who was around.

Everyone in your life would notice. Your old gym buddies would make jokes and comments but their underlying tone would harbor real concern. ‘What happened? How could someone that fit and toned let go like this?’ They'll have no idea that your former figure was only a testament to how badly you wanted to get this fat. That the only reason you maintained that 6-pack for as long as you did was because the only other option was morphing into a tubby, burping fatty who wears their lack of self-control all over their soft, wobbling body. 

The thing about that degree of control? It’ll never last. It can't, especially when you’ve surrounded yourself with people who are already as gluttonous as you wish you could be, who already packed on weight from their little stuffing habits. When you introduced one of your old buddies to your partner, you knew you had ulterior motives. Sure, you could claim that you just thought they’d like each other, and they did, but that’s not the only reason you’re so glad they became fast friends. Your old pal is huge, and the more time they spend with your chubby, growing partner, the more their habits rub off. See, that kind of weight? It's contagious. At 350, your friend is less than 20 pounds shy of being double your partner’s weight, and that makes everything your partner does, everything they eat, every item of clothing they outgrow, seem less consequential. When your old friend can put away more than the two of you combined, your partner’s growing portions don’t seem so bad, still seem meager in the face of theirs.

Your partner may complain about their weight at times, may struggle to tug their pants up and frown in the mirror, but their future is already cemented too. That first 30 pounds is just the beginning, and they know it. You know it. It should excite you, but instead, you're more excited about something else. You're more excited about the thought of your bulk spiraling out of control, the thought of starting off with fitness goals in mind and ending up too fat and stuffed to heave yourself off the couch without panting from the effort.

Do you know how many people would pay anything to have the body you have right now? And yet, you get off thinking about piling on so much weight you’re unrecognizable. That's an easy goal for you. Just 30 pounds, 30 pounds like your partner gained, and your body will look entirely different. It's what you want. What you really want. And you can't keep denying yourself, it's driving you crazy.

You have a perfect, enviable life, and yet you fantasize about being someone else, about being bigger. Your coworkers make fun of your overweight boss and his doubly overweight wife, but to you, that would be paradise. Letting your partner retire just so they can grow and grow, getting nice and fat yourself, and finally eating the way you want to, finally feeling the way you’ve always wanted your body to feel.

I know you wish you could just sample the level of obesity you really want for yourself. Just spend a day lumbering and waddling around just to feel your whole body jiggle. Think of how hot it would be to sink your fingers into a gut so round it looks bloated even when it's empty. You can have that. In fact, you will have it. You can't deny yourself, your truth, much longer. If you know this is all inevitable, why are you fighting so hard? Why are you making yourself miserable, knowing you’re just a few months of gorging away from the person you really want to be? The person you need to be.

You claim you don't want to actually get fat, you claim this is all just a fantasy that’ll stay in your head, but you keep sabotaging yourself. Packing weight on your partner, constantly hanging out with them and your old friend, agreeing to a bulk when you know that you’re addicted to your own fantasies? C'mon. You don't really want to be thin. You don't want to be fit. You don't even want to be big and muscular. You want to be a tubby little blob. You want it so bad that your subconscious is working against you. And that kind of internal struggle is impossible to defeat. You know you’ll never win. Let go. Let yourself go.


It's a slippery slope, and the thing is, you’ve already slipped. You agreed to bulk knowing exactly what a loss of control would mean for your waistline. You can't keep pretending like this, this inner contradiction will eventually tear you apart. Don't you want to save the trouble and just admit to yourself that this isn't a fantasy? Admit to yourself how badly you want to balloon?

Do this for me, just give it a week. One week of eating like you're on a bulk but skipping the gym. What damage can you possibly do in a week? If at the end you genuinely don't think all the pleasure was worth it, if you genuinely didn't feel more alive, more yourself than you ever have while stuffing down thousands of calories knowing they’ll turn to fat instead of muscle, then you can just stop. Easy as that. Because if this really isn't what you want, you’ll be able to stop.

Why does that idea scare you? Because you know you won’t be able to stop? If you can barely control yourself now, what makes you think that resolve is ever gonna strengthen? As your partner grows, as they bring more and more junk into the house and eat bigger and bigger meals, you’ll be tempted. And that temptation will infect all your thoughts, have potent impacts on your entire mindset.

First it'll be a few extra pounds, then a few missed workouts, then a pair of pants that just won't button anymore. It's going to happen. And if you don't accept it now, you’ll just torture yourself. You won't be able to enjoy it. That’s why you need to give yourself permission, allow yourself to just sit back and enjoy this.

It's gonna happen either way. You’re destined to be a bulging fatty who can’t stop growing, and you can’t escape destiny.

Good luck with your little ‘bulk’. I give it a year, two tops, before you can’t see your toes. But you know yourself even better than I do, you know all you’d need is a few months to jumpstart a lifetime of blubbery gluttony.

Let me know when it finally happens. I wanna see what you’ve turned yourself into. What you look like when you finally get what you really want.




*I hope you enjoyed this little POV commission! When I take commissions I include an option for people to submit images of themselves so I can more actually describe their body type and this commissioner is literalllly modelesque (the descriptions of the six-pack were entirely unexaggerated lol) which was so fun for me! Getting to picture and describe an extremely fit person blowing up is now definitely among my favorite requests to create. I removed all the names/pronouns to make it gender neutral so everyone can enjoy, and now I'm thinking it might also make a good audio? I'm not sure lol, let me know if that would be something anyone would like to see! You can find more on my profile here on FF, thanks so much for reading:)*