Chapter 1

He was a mess, his mounds splattered all over the bariatric sized bed. But he kept shoving the chocolate donuts into his chipmunk cheeked face. His double chins wobbled as he chewed and shook with each bite. He crammed another, and another, and another. The noises he made while eating were slobbish, grunting and moaning and smacking with his mouth full. But oh, it was crispy and sweet and delectable. ‘More...more...one more…’ he thought to hisself, he felt his puny stick grow stimulated as he finished the second box. He jolted when the door open. His wife entered the room, scoffing at him.

“I’m sick and tired of you sitting here eating me at of house of home, you need to excersise.” she scolded him, but she sounded serious.
“Don’t feel like it, do it tomorrow.”

“Then I guess I will have to make you.”

“Oh really? How, huff...are you gonna do that?”

That’s when she snatches away the brand new box of glazed donuts, twenty a box to be specific. She snatched it away from his reach and cradled it. “Like so. Up.”

He groaned.
She was not kidding when she said she will make him exersise.
She adjusted the bed more so that he can sit up.

Carefully he started to make an attempt to roll over to reach the edge of the bed. Everything was so heavy and weighted on him, his flesh, that is. His winged arms were rippling as he realized he could not roll onto the side of his right cheek, he barely lifted off of the bed.

“Don’t worry, that’s why we have the medicle equipment to help you.” she commented plainly.

The slings for his legs and feet and ass were already positioned, and she pushed the buttons on the remote that hummed the wires to life to lift him, and adjust him to face the edge of the bed until his cellulite swallowed up calves hovered above the floor. He hadn’t been out of bed in lord knows how long, he could feel the consequences of binge eating and not moving for anything, not even for sex. IT was impossible now.But still he had to obey.


He managed to stand on his feet, feeling all the pressure of weight in his ankles, his calves completely swallowed up his ankles. As the weight shifted into a standing position the transition made him lose his breathe. His body took on a new form, from being splayed out, spread apart laying atop the mattress like a bed sheet, his cellulite now stacked on top of each other, his sides having several folds, his stomach jutting out two feet away from his sagging breasts and perky nipples, propped up by his first stomach, the last stomach sagging inches away from his ankles, past his knees, they flopped about as he moved about trying to figure out the best way to waddle to the door, panting from over exhertion. She grew inpatient, a look of disgust on her face watching him struggle, shaming him for the weight he gained. “You need to go to the scale, this is unacceptable.”

He started to whine in between breathes. “I can’t!”
That was when she pulled out a metal switch and wacked him on his bulbous behind, it jiggled profoundly and he blushed feeling it soften the blow, making him feel afeminine for having an ass now and boobs. That was motivation to keep moving. How ever he could not put one foot in front of the other, it was impossible, and so he swayed, left to right. The flesh on his arms practically propped up and gutting out from the stacks of plump soft rolls on his side shook and hung in the air loosely, he realized he could not move his arms at his side like he use to, for his own body was in the way, blocking his motion. It was a silly pathetic sight to see his stomach flop with each step, swing and sway, every part of him moving as he struggled. He made it to the hallway in ten minutes and could now stop, gasping for breathe.

“Maybe it will be easier for u to walk on all fours, since it is difficult. You want your treat don’t you? You will not be fed if you do not walk. So walk.”

His stomache felt empty, it rumbled, he desperately got onto his knees. “ahh- uh-snort-uahh-no- I- can. Huff wheeze* make it-” He regained his determination, and kept waddling away, flop flop flop. She spanked his ass for fun and every time she striked him he snorted gasping for air. He made it to the scale, Stepping onto the platforn. He could finally catch his breathe, but he was hungry.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and whinced. How?

His face, consumed by his neck, his chin smooshed into his neck, his chin sagging onto his chest, his breasts plump and hanging onto the rest of his soft stomach, stacked up, his thighs mooshed against each other, storing the fat all into his thighs, and fat pad, his quivering loose 3rd stomach covering up his thighs, his upper body felt the most suffocating.

He couldn’t see down, for of course his body blocked the view of the numbers.

759.lb

Now was the time for her to make it his reality. She squeezed his sides, she shook his flabby stomach that layed atop the other one, split into sections, he was so wide, “There’s so much of you, but there is always room for more.” his cock was shriveled up and hidden away. He caught his breathe and felt even more hungry than before. He missed the donuts he devoured. “I just want to go back to bed, mistress.”

“Oh you are tired? Well I have a better place for you to eat and rest. Come.”

That’s when she led him to the stair case. He couldn’t believe it, when was the last time he went up stairs? But he had no choice, he lifted himself up, his stomach in the way of his knees he bounced his flesh each step he took, and with each step of the stairs he slowly transcended onto his hands and knees , and felt relief on his feet, his arms barely did not reach the floor, but he crawled, his belly dragging, the two split upper stomachs hanging above, “Good piggy!”

“Piggy?” he huffed but it barely uttered out his mouth between the snorts that sucked in the air.

Then he made it, to the room. And flopped onto his side in exhaustion.

“Oh my poor little pig boy, you must be exhausted, and thirsty, aren’t you? She cooed at him, rubbing and massaging his soft flesh, petting his hair, loooking at him in his mooshed up face and cheeks and open mouth that cramped in wrinkles to his triple dropping chins. “ahhh,-I-I”

He couldn’t get a word out. He was starving.

He made it to the pig pen, The contraption was already set up. She strapped him in, using a machine to pick him up, and set him into the feeding machine. This was where it begins, There’s a mirror in front of him, a scale below him, he can see the goal weight on the screen displayed from a far. She typed a way at a computer and the sling lifted him up. Out came the breathing and feeding tube. She strapped it onto him, the tube into his mouth, resting on his tongue so he can taste the concoction to make him grow. She looked into his pleading eyes, he was starving. He whimpered, groaned, he fussed about making hisself shake. “Yes good boy, you will communicate to me by begging, I made it your favorite flavor, glazed frosting. “ The machine turned on, the sling lifted him above the scale, then the thick cream pumped into him, when the cream hit his tongue he groaned, eyes rolling back instantly, his cock came to life, throbin, he began to greedily slurp and suck, thirsty, it tasted estatic, it made his body buzz and become sensitive, his breathe slow and steady now. Perfect.

“Glug glug glug” went the pig, slobbering all over his chins, the faster he drinks the more he will gain. Steadily thrroughtout the day, when the machine stopped he would be in a drug induced sleep, that is when the fat would pack on. He would wake up and feel his entire body prssed against the scale , he thought he was on the ground again, but it was truly his two stomachs that stretched out to rest on the scale. 900 pounds, it says, he sees the numbers, he wriggles his toes, puffy and swollen, his thighs comfortably hugging onto his fupa, he felt like he was in a cradle, being rocked to sleep, he squirmed and shifted a little bit, his ass streched out, blimping up nicely, shaped to perfection.

“mmmm,” The machine wurled to life once again, the saddle raised up two feet from the scale, he no longer can feeel the metal against him, he can feel more of him hovering, his arms, he shifted to position them better, for they filled up heavily, “Oh god what’s happening to me?” he thought to himself, the mirror was shaded, guess she does not want him to look quiet yet.

The pump suddenly went back to life, he curled his toes, he rested his hands atop the rolls near his breasts, squeezing his hands, his eyes shut, oh thank god, he thought, he gulped, he instantly gulped, greedily, “hmmm,mmmm. Mmmm.” it made him feel good, relaxed, safe, he focused on the flavor, slowing down after chugging mindlessly for 20 minutes straight, his mid section swelled up more unnoticable to him, “mmf,mf” he mumbled on the tube, comfortable with the constant flow of pleasure. There was no voice in his head telling him to stop, in fact, he couldn’t think of anything at all.

Then, for what seemed like forever, it stopped, and she came into the pen. He almost forgot she even existed, nothing existed while he was being fattened up to perfection. When the machine stopped he seemed to slowly gain back awareness, he saw her and immediately felt embaressed. “Don’t-” he would plead, for he knew what she were to do. Degrade him, slap his ass and watch It shake. She made him shake his body to and frow an oink for her, beg to be fed, He was humiilated as he felt every part of him billow. He started to cry, then squeel, Why? He doesn’t want to become a pile of fat, he knows she will push his body to the ultimate limits.


She dialed and adjusted the settings on the machine, changing the feed to increase the growth and capacity. It was time for an examination to determine what parts of his body she wanted to blimp up first. She first chose his arms, it needed to fill out more, so that he will be unable toreach his face. He was forced to glug it down, tears streaming down his eyes, the sound of his chugging began to sound like oinks against the tube. He felt as if he were a fat baby, drinking his mother’s milk and being constantly nursed. His arms began to tingle, warm up, he panicked, arms going limp. Biceps packed into his shoulders, they began to take form and slowly filled up to shape and locked his arms into position. He didn’t have to look in the mirror, he knew they were stuck. He wanted to scream, in fact he did scream, but his desperate cries of helplessness were again muffled, she shushed him, increased the feeding intake, he fought against it with all his might.

This was not food, this was torture.

“Now let’s ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

“Noo” a muffled whine, he grunted, thrusting to fight against the restraints, all it did was swung his body around, “she laughed.”

“shake piggy, shake. “ she teased, the machine wirred, a different flavor. Ice cream,

“ahhhh-” he slobbed, began to drool, the cream dripped, he sucked rapidly,
“mmf, mff.,mff” he couldn’t slow down, he felt his jaw sink into the sides of his neck fat, sucking him in, his cheeks puffered up and filled out, he choked, his voice became deeper, it was as if his entire face had retreate into himself, and there it rested, He fussed, shaking his head as if to shake it off, only the fat of what were now his chins flapped around, dripping the slop onto his soft chest, amongst his hanging moobs sitting atop of hisself.

He felt himself needing to use the bathroom in the process, there was a hole beneath him on the floor, a toilet perhaps, he emptired hisself onto the floor, flooding his fupa with urine. He grunted, pushing on purpose like an animal. His cheeks turned red, His captive typed into the computer and activated the cleaning mechanism. Out came the house that flushed into his cheeks, and a scrub slipped in between and scrubbed in and out, cleaning him thoruogly. The same for his fupa, squeezing in between and dosing it with water and soap, all while he continued to chug. He was losing his mind as he kept growing, he forgot what he was so concerned about. Where were his thoughts? There were none, he only felt his blob of a body. He didn’t look at the rising number of the scale.

950.

The machine hissed, turned off, the tube removed, there was slobber all over his chins, his hair a mess.
His eyes dropping. He licked up what he could off his face and groaned, he was no longer fighting the feeling of being pumped full, both his stomach and his flesh. The muscles in his arms felt completely limp, dead, lifeless. He took slow breathes, labored, heaving, so heavy, how could he move like this?

She approached him, looking at him as he dangled his body above.

“Yes, you look a lot better, this is a good start. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

“uhg-” he grunted.

His toes twitched, his ass was piled on immensely on the back of his thighs supporting the weight, his legs were less spread apart in the position he was in, but as the cradle adjusted to carry him into his bariatric bed to lay down, He saw the damage done, or really only saw what he could see of himself. His triple stack of a stomach spread his legs all the way apart to where is feet were slung over each side of the bed, He had to be sat up to keep the weight off of his chest. The slings on the bed had to lift his oversized legs in the air by lifting his feet, he was fitted into a diaper. Too much effort for a bed pen, she would have to fit in a catheter and suction tube into him later, but she wanted him to feel as ashamed of himself as possible for his new weight, for his stomach layed flat across the entire bed, hish mid section reaching over, and the a shelf for his moobs, his sides a resting place for his arms, oh how useless they sat atop of him. She even tested to see if he could lift them this maul. She had 12 triple pattied cheese burgers with cheese and toppings and of course laced with drugs and laxitves for motivation. He drooled when he saw them, He reache d out to grab one, even when he lifted up his arms they still pooled over onto hisself, they ached when he fed himself, so he tried to eat fast before they would give out on him. He sloppily devoured what he could, and after the fifth burger his arms flopped onto hisself, his body bouncing back.

So she fed him the rest, he moaned in pleasure, chewing savoring each bite, she made him whine for his bites, made him beg, mashed each one into his face, he hated how good it tasted, how good it made him feel, he forgot how destroyed his body was, for he forgot of himself. “mmmmmm”

he moaned, then started to pant. He was tired, winded. He didn’t want to stop eating.

He ended up falling asleep, puffing out his diaper, filling it up to the brim with his mess. So degrading was the display, he was unaware of what he was turning into, for the drugs sedated his thoughts, his feelings, his sense of self, his speech. What was to become of him.


He awoken twice his size, he set in bed rest for two days to consume real food, his flab spreading everywhere. Back to the machine he goes, his cradle suspending him even more higher into the air, He saw his goal weight on the screen: 3,000lbs
His current weight read: 1200 lbs

He still could not yet see his reflection, he had some what of some sense of consciousness, he could feel his skin hanging losely, his arms sunctioned into cellulite like an accordian, today is leg day. Something new added to the set up, a pump for his cock.

It took him by surprise, the tube to his throat churned, a slow pace but large amounts, he would gulp has hard as he could, completely obsessed. After the first vat, she walked into the pen to refill the second vat, in revealing lingerie. That seemed to awaken something in him. His bulb throbbed and gerked to life, the sling seperated and lifted his fupa up, and she attached his short stubby coke to the pump, fastening and securing it snugly. It felt warm, it felt comfortable, it fit like a glove. Instead of the mirror a tv screen flickered to life playing porn, his eyes lit up, the vat cut on, he suckled quickly, the milking machine vibrated and stroked him, if the tube wasn’t in his mouth he would be wailing aloud, but his cries were muffled. All of the skin on his body trembled vigurously. “Yes, my pet, consume, cum, repeat. You’re turning into my perfect little pig.”

“Wahh,wahh, wahh” He cried over and over with each stroke, he sucked long and hard on the tube, wanting to breathe instead of swallow. He came shortly, and profusely. He fell asleep with his cheek aaginst the creases of his neck flab, the machine still pumped him full of lard.



Next was the swing contraption for bathroom use. He was fitted into an extremely over sized diaper with plenty of space, he was repositioned into a seated position, where his many rolls and folds made him appear tall, seated as if he was on the toilet, legs spread, feet propped up onto his second stomach. He was very backed up. He pushed and grunted and filled his diaper up beyond maximum capacity until his load toached the floor. A bell rang, signaling that the diaper was completely full, lumpy and loaded. He was winded just from defocating such a tremendous amount at once. “Uhhgahhhh.” he heaved, pushed once more, the mess piled up all the way until it pressed against himself, and the squirming he did was amusing, for he could not escape his own dirty diaper and piles of flesh to get away from the nastiness of it all. “Heghh--” he wanted eat, with his stomach flabby and empty, he cried out to be once again. The process repeated itself until he blimped out all angles far and wide, a zombie to hisself and to the world, he was drowning in his own prison. But still, he needed to be fed.