chapter 1

“How fat are you gonna make me, baby? Tell me how out of shape you’re gonna make me.” Your 350 pound girlfriend knew this is what got you off, and by god it was working.
It was hard to really focus with her riding you, but you had been thinking about it for a while.
“You’re not gonna be walking baby, that’s for sure.” You exclaimed.
“You’re gonna make me immobile,” she said as she grabbed a donut from the nightstand next to your bed, “I kinda like that. Just feed me all day. Cum in my rolls all night. I could get used to that.”
You had trouble holding on now, the pressure of an orgasm building up.
“Let’s do that baby, make me your fat, immobile pig. Show me a big bad feeder.”


3 years later

“Hon...honey.....please no....more....I’m too.....too.....fu-“ another pastry is forced between her lips, and she painfully chews despite nearing the end of a 3 hour long feeding.

It’s not like she has much of a choice these days on whether she eats or doesn’t. At almost 1000 pounds, she’s far too weak and obese to stop you, a constant gym goer and fitness freak, from forcing whatever you want down her throat. It’s cute when she tries, though.
“It’s getting....harder to.....breathe.....now.....my chest...always hurts.....I don’t.......wanna.....get another....heart...att-“ And another pastry is forced into her mouth, this one deep fried and filled with cream.

“Baby,” you say before getting more food, “we’ve already discussed this. If you DO get another heart attack, then I’m doing my job as a feeder. You’re not gonna gain weight with salads and lean meat.” You look her dead in the eyes.
“Everything I feed you is going to make you fatter. It’s not good for you, it’s not good for your heart, and it’s not good for anything other than piling more lard on you. And that’s perfect. I’m not running a health clinic here. You’re almost 1000 pounds, babe. You can’t be remotely healthy at this size. You haven’t left our home in an entire year, you haven’t walked a foot in almost as long, and you’ve been eating pure junk since we started dating. So what if you get another heart attack? I’ll make sure you’re ok, besides, you’re still on the small side. Once we get you up to 1400 or 1500, maybe I’ll be a little more careful about what you eat.”
You lean closer in.
“And when you cum, too.” Seeing as her last heart attack was caused from one of your nights of passion, you definitely were gonna be more careful. Although, you did leave the silver bullet on for probably too long. One minute she’s moaning in pleasure, the next she’s flatlining.
“Baby....I’m already......fat....enough.” A look of anger comes over your face. “I can’t....make it.....to....1500.....pounds.”

“Honey,� �� you begin, “it’s been a long time since I’ve had to tube feed you your food. You know I love doing it by hand, it’s more intimate, but I have no problem hooking up the feeding tube. I can set it to the highest setting and just leave you on it for a week. If you mention not wanting to gain again, I’ll hook you up to it and just leave you for a few weeks. Remember, you’re the one who wanted this, not me.”


While across the house in your den, you hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. ‘She’s not being subtle about this anymore,’ you think. Into the den walks Tara, a woman you’d met at the gym nearly a year ago. She walks right up to you and locks you in for a kiss. Your hands roam free, feeling the damage you’ve done to her.

It was a year ago when she was sucking your dick in the locker room of your gym, the 320 pound brunettes body driving you wild. It wasn’t hard convincing her to spend less time at the gym and more time with you. Now, she was a bonafide SSBBW, 430 pounds of soft, tan, jelly like fat. She was an extreme hourglass, with massive tits that hung down to a hanging belly, rounded off with an ass that was fast approaching gargantuan proportions.
“You can’t just walk in here, my wife is-“ she cuts you off.
“Your wife isn’t gonna do a damn thing. Last I checked, she’s almost 1000 pounds. That blob of lard can’t even stop eating for a minute to notice anything. And who cares if she does? What’s she gonna do, chase me out?” She drops to her knees and begins undoing your belt. Your penis flops out, already hard.
“You need to hurry up and get rid of her,” she says as she begins sucking you off, “that shouldn’t be too hard. Give that bitch another heart attack already.”
“Look, that’s still my wife, and-“ she cuts you off.
“I don’t care. She can’t do much for you now. I can, and I can make you cum far harder than she ever will.” As you feel the pressure rising in your penis, she shakes her ass for you. Watching her cheeks ripple brings you over the edge, and you blast load after load into her mouth. You lay back on the couch to recover.
“I know I’m not her size, but I’m fine with adding a few hundred pounds to these curves.”