Chapter 1 - More

You moaned as you rubbed your taut belly, the last droplets of the creamy shake yet lingering on your lips. You licked them clean, so not a single drop went to waste, not a calorie that wouldn't reach it's destination.
You felt heavy, you felt fat, weighed down by the contents of your stomach as you were. Yet you were barely more than chubby as of now, your belly having lost all its softness with how full it was, your thighs only having started a few weeks ago to be firmly pressed against one another. A cute little double chin was beginning to form, your boobs were overspilling any bra you owned.
Day by day the struggle to fit into your pants got worse, knowing you'd have to go up a size soon. Again. Your ass threatening to tear every pair you currently owned at the seams, showing all of the world your cellulite ridden cheeks.
Not quite fat yet, just a little more than chubby, that's what you were, but your feeder would make sure it didn't stay that way.

---

In your hands, you held your belly, barely daring to call it so anymore. A full blown gut seemed more fitting. You belched, as he crammed more food into your waiting mouth, hands exploring your bloated body while you were busy chewing.
Your legs were spread apart, for multiple reasons. One being to accomodate your gut, resting heavy on your thighs, folding into rolls in the middle, somewhere deep between them your belly button, hidden away between the layers of fat.
The other, main reason, was because your thighs had simply gotten so fat they were being pushed apart, because even like this they were still touching.
Forcing more junk down your throat he admired your wobbling double chin, once cute, barely visible, now threatening to swallow your whole neck.
He knew you enjoyed this immensly. Only having to sit back and open your mouth, your biggest work out chewing the ridiculous amount of food you both forced into your body. He knew how wet you were, somewhere deeo betwern your thighs and under your ever growing gut.
You'd gotten lazier and lazier too with each pound, barely leaving your beloved couch anymore, unless it was to go to the toilet or get more food on the rare occasions he hadn't provided you with enough to last you throughout the day.
The only pity was, with how rarely you get up, he barely got a chance to look at your magnificent ass. Two cellulite ridden, shapeless blobs of fat that had outgrown any normal chair long ago. You didn't wear pants if you had the choice, with how much of a hassle to get them over your ass they were. The only exception being when he dragged you to a buffet. As much as you hated leaving your couch, it was a great chance to show off just how greedy you were, often not going home before you'd either popped a button or your shirt had ridden up far enough for his liking.
What he did get to admire however where the sacks of fat you once called your boobs. Heavy as they had gotten they sagged massively, the only thing holding them up your fat gut. But they'd started evading even that, instead choosing to hang down further at its sides.
Your feeder liked to explore your body regularly, caress every role on your body, there being a new one for him to squeeze every other day.
Even your arms jiggled as you moved them to meet his hands, having long lost any and all definition and on the best way to grow as fat as the rest of you.
"More" you begged. Always more. And he was happy to oblige. If you meant more fat or merely more food, neither of you quite knew, but it's not as if you could have had one without the other.

---

You grunted, as you tried to heave your massive body off the couch. Sweat was pouring down your forehead, all from the effort of simply getting up. You'd tried before and had just finished your break. He'd been feeding "for strength" he'd claimed, but you weren't sure the grease he shoved down your throat gave you much strength. It was quite ridiculous to speak of you and any sort of strength, not when he'd had to feed you because your weak, fat arms had gotten too tired of doing so yourself.
Still you tried, and with his help through some miracle managed to lift your ass off the couch, its shape, or lack of shape to be honest, forever imprinted on the piece of furniture.
As you finally stood you risked toppling over, with the weight of your gut suddenly pulling you down, only balanced out by your ass, but even so the massive sack of lard was by far heavier.
Again you groaned, the massive weight of your body on your nearly unused legs more than you thought you could take.
He'd brought you a mirror, knowing you had to be curious with how long you hadn't been able to see some of your bodyparts. Despite knowing you had gotten absolutely massive you were still shocked a human being could even get this fat.
The first thing you noticed was of course your gut, it was hard not to. Roll upon roll it hung down to your knees, or at least where you knees used to be. Fat as you were it had gotten near impossible to bend your knees.
For a moment you searched for your boobs, only to realize the sacks of lard hanging down the side of your gut were your tits. You moaned as he came over, knowing full well what you'd been looking at, and you moaned as he played with one of your nipples, though horrified with just how low it was hanging.
You'd have loved to admire your body for hours, yet standing was more workout than you'd gotten in years, and somehow you had to make it to the bedroom.
Ever so slowly you lifted a leg, barely enough to be able to shuffle your foot forward, and yet you sighed with relief once you let it fall to the ground again.
The short distance from the couch to the bed seemed like a marathon, and you had to lean against the wall every few steps. Your feeder was there along the way to provide you with snacks and litres of disgustingly sweet lemonade.
Sweat was pouring from your body too as if you'd ran a marathon, even though you had barely walked a few feet.
Your heart was pounding in your chest and your legs ached from their massive load. Thankfully the doorway to the bedroom had been widened long ago, one thing less to get in your way. The only battle you had with your own body.
And that was a hard one as it was, aside from the weight of course being the main issue, there was your belly hanging so low it was in your way with each step. Even if that hadn't been, there was still the issue of your thighs being so fat it was nearly impossible to move one in front of the other.
And so hundreds of pounds of fat awkwardly shuffled to the bed, legs shaking by the time you reached it, heaving and panting for the exertion and you didn't hesitate to plop your massive body down, jiggling violently as you did so, the poor frame of the bed groaning pathetically. Yet it'd been reinforced to carry a weight much greater than yours, and you knew for good reason.
With his help you laid down, doing your best to get comfortable, as you knew this had most likely been the last time you'd walked at all.
You were delighted to see he had installed mirrors all around the bed, so you could see your own growth from every angle, at least until it got too hard to even turn your head, so engulfed by fat your neck was.
Your gut rested on your legs like a blanket, the fat filled bag of skin, riddled with angry stretchmarks, hiding how much worse your thighs still looked, stretchmarks, cellulite and angry veins decorating them. Your whole body a collection of rolls, heavier than any human was ever supposed to get.
And you weren't done. Not yet. You wanted more. Always more. So with a look at your feeder you spoke: "I'm hungry"