Weight Room Title Bar

 Torture from El
By Martin James.

“Aggh! I'm so big!”

My wife, Eleanor, had begun to scream again. She did this every morning; screamed when she saw the scale. I walked over. I already knew the inevitable conclusion: her weight wasn't that much, and, anyhow, she looked nicer with curves. She was standing in bikini bottoms, as she always went swimming in the house pool before breakfast.

I looked at the scale. Her little potbelly barely blocked the view as I read the measurement: 190 Ibs.

“You're not fat, darling; you're voluptuous and sexy…” I replied, fondling her.

She pushed me away. “Oh yes I am! Look at me!” She desperately tried to show off her tiny, yet significant, paunch.

I knew that she was only so big because when we married a year ago, she had decided to go to work while I took care of the house. Her job required driving to work and sitting at a desk all day, and she had been snacking in between meals. Many of her friends were fat, and candy bars were often passed around; it was rude not to accept.

“Aw, come on, babycakes… You're sexier than ever! “ She still pouted. “ Alright then, how about I change your mind…” I said, slipping a hand to her slightly expanded ass and squeezing the soft flesh.

She automatically turned around and kissed me. Then, we jumped into bed, forgetting about swimming, and made love for hours. Luckily, it was a Saturday.

After we finished, Eleanor grabbed her paunch and looked at me, comparing it with my red-headed, muscular body. (Whereas my wife was blonde, I was naturally red-headed.)

“I wish you were fat as well,” she moaned.

“ What?” I mumbled.

“Well, I feel fat when I look at your body, but I don't want to exercise. I was thinking - what if I made you look fatter, and me thinner beside you?”

“Hmm…” I thought. Having Eleanor fat was nice enough, but myself… The idea was intriguing. If I got bigger, then I could admire my body as well as El's…Plus, it would stop her from moaning about her own weight and just gain.

“Well, if it makes you happy, darling, then I'll try and increase this waist…” I said, trying to grab it.

“Oh, Petey! Let's start right away!” El took my hand and led me down to the kitchen. Immediately, she asked our maid, Rita, to get a breakfast that could make a man gain fifty pounds.

In mere seconds, a lavish feast of bacon and eggs, hash browns, pancakes, and lots more, were placed before my eyes. I offered some to El, but she refused, saying that she wouldn't touch a thing until I was the same weight she was.

I began to plough into the breakfast, munching away, until I had eaten half of the sumptuous feast. I looked down. My gut was already increasing, starting to stretch across my jeans. But, bloated as I was, I started to shove in the next stack of pancakes. Urged on by cries from my wife. Soon, I was so painfully stuffed that I couldn't bring myself to eat the next mouthful.

El, always quick to the draw, picked up the last forkfuls and made me chew them. I swallowed and swallowed, afraid my guts would burst, and then I had finished. El was overjoyed, and I was pretty proud too, cradling my now huge gut.

We quickly snuck upstairs, and I enjoyed even greater sex, adding weight by the milk from El's boobs.

Afterwards, we went to weigh me. I was amazed to see that the meal had added 53 pounds to my mass, making me now 173! I looked down at my gut. My knees, just beginning to take the strain, were becoming hurt. I shrugged, and we went and had sex all day.

A year later, this had continued, with us getting bigger and bigger. I had finally reached the 200-pound mark, El along with me, and I was relaxing in my couch. I was careful not to take too much exercise nowadays, as it would burn needed calories away. Then, suddenly, I heard the screams again for the first time in a year.


I walked (waddled) slowly to the bathroom, where my huge wife was again standing on the scale in nothing but her jeans (Rita, thankfully, was out.) I looked over her nice belly to see that she was now 20 pounds more than me.

“Oh, I'm such a pig!” she cried. “Look at this belly!”

I looked at it. I walked up, and, with slight difficulty, reached around and jiggled it up and down. “Oh, come on dear, you're not that big…”

“Yes I am! 222 pounds is huge!”

“Oh, but you always feel skinny next to me…”

“No I don't! Not any more!”

“Yes you do…in fact, I'll prove it to you!”

I rushed downstairs, dragging her along, and opened the fridge. El had recently had a birthday, and we got a chocolate cake each. I took them both out, as they were unfinished, and started to tear lumps out of mine. I stuffed my face with icing and cake, some getting trapped between my two chins. I took mere milliseconds to finish it, and then sat, panting, yet still starved. El pushed her cake to me.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Go on, piggy.” That was her pet name for me nowadays. I quickly began to polish off the second one, and then licked the bowl which Rita had made the icing in, which El was kind enough to give. Then, as I had 'paraly-bloat' (temporary paralysis caused by bloating), the scales were brought down. I looked down and smiled.

“Honey, I've gotten to 220; I've gained 20 pounds!”

El screamed with joy and hugged me from behind, cradling my belly as I had earlier. It was like jelly. Nowadays, it didn't put as much strain on my knees, but I was proud of it, just as I was proud of my man-boobs. I was sometimes topless, but often El bought me new bras, pink and frilly, and I liked seeing my former muscles as a woman's chest, bouncing up and down, always wanting to snap the cord.

After a peaceful sleep on the couch, my wife and I each enjoyed a 24-pound steak, even eating the fat afterwards. Then, it was more playful sex, and sleep.

Then, in four months time, She was back in front of our wide mirror, complaining.

“Look at me, piggy! I'm sooo fat! I'm a blimp!” She never called me Petey anymore, just piggy; but I liked that, it was a cute name.

“You're not, I am!” I replied, sticking out my massive paunch. It was true. My gut now had a huge measurement, and I had developed breasts. Now, I wore large, over-sized jeans, with big, revealing white shirts. My jeans were tight around the legs, making my gut look all the more bigger.

“Anyway - you've lost 20 pounds! I don't want my girl to be that small.”

She smiled nervously. 'Yeah - well, just to calm me down, please weigh yourself.”


I stepped on the new, reinforced, computerised scale. It read at 305.

“Oh god! You're the same weight!”

I thought about how this had happened. Was my body changing, adapting to the constant food? I had no idea how my stomach was taking it all. I burped casually.

“Ah, don't sweat it. I'm just evening out.” Still, she looked worried. Then, suddenly, her fat face flashed with an unknown idea.

“We'll see!” she huffed, turning tail. I was amused at her anxiety, but not worried. I was still big enough.

Yet in the next two weeks something odd happened. Though I still had an increased food intake, I gained no more weight, and El had started to giggle in an evil way when she left the room. I was worried what she was doing, and worried that she had lost another ten pounds, becoming 200 once more, and her clothes were beginning to hang off her. She nowadays wore a nice farmer's overall, blue with red braces, a black shirt with a star inside, and a baseball cap with matching colours.

One morning, I awoke on our oversized, reinforced bed, to discover - I couldn't get up! I was somehow chained to the bed! I tried to wriggle free of my bonds, but even my fat arms couldn't break loose.

El walked in, humming delightfully. She looked at me, and beamed even more. I asked what was going on.

“Oh dear, piggy, haven't you clued in yet?” Evidently I hadn't, so she continued. “Thing is, I was NEVER interested in being fat. I merely wanted to lose it all, fast and painless. Then, when you made your great offer, I was entranced with a vision of you huge, my big beached whale, large enough to satisfy my every need. But you haven't lived up to that vision yet.” She suddenly held up a large metal thing, which had been in her pocket. “So I decided to speed things up a bit! This device, when I plant it in your mouth, will remove the genetic code of all the recently gained fat in your body, and add yeast to it, turning it into a mass of dough. I'll explain further in a minute. Hold still, piggy baby.” She shoved it in my mouth.

I was aware of an electronic sensation, then suddenly I felt all my fat pulsing, splitting, and then suddenly coming together again. When I looked up, El had left and was re-entering the room.

She was dragging a huge, wheeled thing with a hood over it. 'Your fat is now all dough. And you know what happens when dough meets water? Good Piggy, it rises. Now, what is this?”

The curtain was ripped aside. There was a computer, with loads of tubes on its bottom, but mostly a huge tank of water!

El quickly flipped a switch, and the tubes came to life. Coiling like snakes, the computer drove them over to my body, where they would enter the large orifices.

I saw the first slip toward under my belly, and felt it slip into my butt. It would bypass the intestines, instead taking it to the dough-substance, pumping it full of water.

One slipped into my belly button, and there as only the slight amount of pressure as it went right through. Two smaller ones did the same to my chest.

Finally, I saw one with a rubber-strapped muzzle slip toward my head. I tried to wriggle away, but the computer matched my movements and slid itself over my tongue. Then, El walked over and fastened the straps.

“Don't resist, piggy,” she said, “Or I'll have to be forcible. I want you to enjoy this. Now, just go to sleep as the moisture washes into you. Go…to sleep…”

Immediately, the machine began to pump the warm water into my body. It tasted nice and sugary, perfect for my taste. It began to wash over my tongue, and nourish my body. Within minutes I had begun to feel full. I caught sight of El leaving the room, and saw that she had gained back a little weight, as the dungarees were now tight on her again.

With the hum of the machine and the warmth in my belly, I was getting light headed. I started to drift off into a dreamless sleep, my mind wandering and almost fading out of consciousness.

Some time later my thoughts were brought back into the real world - the machine was gurgling and grinding, expelling air from the tube and into my stomach. I became desperate for more - I was still starving! I moaned for El, and moaned again. She rushed in quickly, and saw my predicament. Quickly, she programmed the computer to remove the tubes.

“C'mon, piggy, let's look at you.” She pressed a button on the bed, which lifted on hydraulics. I quickly slipped to the floor, my feet resting on it. I hadn't got my glasses on, and El slipped on some double-size ones over my face. I looked in the mirror.


I was a mammoth! My weight had tripled in size!

My belly, round as a globe, seemed to stretch across my body. It was the largest thing I had ever seen. It seemed to defy gravity, hanging up and down, and rippling when El patted it. My chest had world record breasts, probably requiring home-made bras, as no store would have my size. My legs were almost as thick as oaks, my arms the same. They hung loosely at my sides, all the fat trying to use gravity to get me down. I shifted round. I saw my nice ass, the two huge masses of flesh jiggling every time I moved. My face was surrounded by a mass of flesh that moved in creases when I turned my head. My cheeks were stuffed with fat, hamster-like, making it difficult to speak. My face was now unrecognizable. I tried to reach across my belly, but couldn't. I couldn't even reach halfway! My sausage fingers could only barely grab it, as the fat cushioned their dexterity. I tried to look down, and realized that my genitals and feet would never be seen by my eyes again.

My stomach formed huge love handles, which El playfully squeezed. I started to shuffle around, and my thighs, like two pieces of play dough, squished together. I found that no matter what my movement, I was always hindered and slow, only shuffling, and that always some part of my body would squeeze or ripple or make some sort of reaction. I was like a beach ball inside a tiny box.

El was amazed at her artwork. “Oh my, piggy, what did I do? You're a whale!” She pushed me, and I fell onto the bed. I kicked around like a turtle, and she calmed me down. The sight of my body had given me an orgasm, and she grabbed my cock and pulled her pants down. Stroking my cock, she fell onto it, and moved up and down until she had fully absorbed my juices.

Getting up, El pushed the button and I slid down again. She beckoned me to follow her, and I smelt something cooking downstairs. I got stuck in the door, and El had to pull me out, but we eventually squeezed through. El giggled at my slow waddle, and the fact that I had to lift my legs slightly to stop them rubbing.

After 15 minutes of negotiating, we were downstairs. I saw too ready-cooked chocolate birthday cakes on the table, and rushed towards them. However, my belly, like the huge doughball that it was, got stuck. I kept flailing slowly, trying to ask El to give me some, and she relented and put one in my hands.

She sighed as I stuffed myself. “You are amazing!”

“Thngg, urp, sno, urp, burp?” I asked. (Think so?)

“Yes dear. I like seeing you so stuffed, bloated, and helpless!”


“Yes, now you are totally dependent on me! You may have a slightly less developed intelligence, but you still understand that without me, you will be unable to do a thing!”

I gasped. She was right! My Mistress might leave me! I didn't want Goddess to go! I grabbed my belly in both hands as a signal. Tears welled up.

“Oh, don't cry. Goddess is here. All I want you to do is be a good piggy, and eat everything I tell you, and never even think of moving. Promise?”

I tried to nod, but my chins got in the way. She understood.

Soon, she had kitted me out in a pair of jeans that were tight and helped movement, my favourite type of bra customised, and shorts in my favourite colour made of ultra-elastic. I soon discovered, too, that the stairs now had a transporter attached, so I didn't have to climb, and to get around the house were a pair of scooters.

I had everything I wanted: fat, food, laziness machines, and my beautiful, loving sex goddess feeder, the beautiful El. Now, I lie all day, and wait for her to return to her beloved devotee, and feed him to his heart - and belly's - content.

(But can El cope by herself? Find out in: "The Servants" - coming soon!)