I awake with a pig-like snort to find myself bound to a king-sized bed that I must take up three-quarters of. I pull on my restraints and they are rather loose and wholly unnecessary as I cannot possibly go anywhere under my own power, seeing as how I am trapped under literally hundreds of pounds of excess weight.
My feedress hasn't weighed me in at least a month, but I must be over a half ton now and gravity has me firmly rooted to this mattress, at least until my feedress orders her two strapping male helpers, each of whom looks like he stepped out a GNC ad, to get her prize hog to his fat feet. Then when they do, I will look back at the bed and see the huge imprint in the mattress where my king-sized body just was.
I have to admit that seeing how much of the mattress I displace gets my motor running, not that anyone can tell with my favorite plaything buried under at least 600 pounds of pure belly fat (being subdued at the hands of a feedress gives me time to muse about things like what my "base" body weight would be sans belly, which I have scientifically concluded is at around 400 pounds such that 60% of my weight is in my enormous belly.
Just the thought of it makes me lament that both of my pudgy hands are ever so loosely bound that I cannot reach under my belly properly. I'm so arouse I can really use two free hands right now. I'll have to talk to my feedress about that!
My belly? It is a freak of nature now. When I'm standing, my lower roll now hangs below my knees. And my man breasts hang about even with where my waist used to be. When I walk, which is hard to do now, both my bottom roll and my moobs swing pendulously from side-to-side, which drives my feedress wild with desire.
I glance over at the wall where my feedress has enlarged images of me in all my fatness. My favorite is one showing me standing and chugging a blender-ful of her special weightgain shake. In the shot, I'm all hanging belly resting atop proportionately much smaller legs and ass cheeks and, at that time at least, hanging down about even with my knees. Then there are my two fatty breasts resting atop the belly and two enormously flabby arms grasping the pitcher firmly and guzzling its fattening contents down with abandon.
This particular shot was from when I was chugging my third gainer shake in a row with my feedress taunting me "chug Fatty, chug Fatty, drink those calories down" just like it was a fraternity drinking game. And since it was the third one in a row, I was a bit messy with the pitcher's contents. In fact, in the shot, I look remarkably like a classic Broken Cassette drawing, with gainer shake dripping down my chest, stopping briefly at my belly button and protruding lower belly and then dripping off and pooling on the floor. I always loved that image when I was not so heavy and aspired to be like Broken Cassette's obviously half ton man. And now I'm living it everyday!
My feedress? She is far from cruel. Relentless would be a better word.
She pretends, and so do I, that I can stop this anytime. The last time I attempted to was towards the end of a massive dinner, where she served me ten massive double cheeseburgers, washed down by two liters of Coke. I was utterly stuffed and demanded to leave before she stuffed me with dessert -- four pounds of chocolate pudding loaded in two pastry bags so that she could just squeeze the goodness into my mouth like a fat baby greedily suckling from his mother's teets.
I had recently weighed in at 900 pounds and got it in my mind that I simply couldn't get any fatter (boy was I wrong). I attempted to extract myself from a feeding chair where I spend most of my time when not in bed, but I was so bottom heavy that I couldn't heave myself out under my own power. My feedress motioned her two strong helpers to each grab one of my flabby upper arms. They managed to get me about halfway up, while she pulled the chair out of the way and pushed my butt from behind to get me upright.
I first had to get my sea legs, giving myself a moment to achieve some semblance of balance with 900 pounds resting on my comparatively spindly legs. Then I started trying to walk toward the door, but my belly was slapping hard against my thighs with every baby step I made. I wasn't going to get anywhere fast like that so I started into an exaggerated waddle where I moved my legs more side to side than front to back! She was dying with laughter at my slow progress, as were her attendants, who finally each grabbed under my fat-encased armpits and helped me to the door. Even though it was only about 20 feet away it took about ten minutes for them to lumber me over.
As we got closer, I shook off their assistance, determined to make it the rest of the way on my own. Unfortunately, my belly had other ideas as when I hit the doorway I encountered a serious case of stuckage. I had been thru the doorway just three months before, when I only weighed 750 pounds (three-eights of a ton) and had encountered no problems. But 900 pounds was a different story and my feedress and handlers guffawed again at my expense, taunting me "come on Fatty, you can do it."
But I couldn't do it. My feedress sent her two boys through another door and they came around and started pushing my belly from the front while she tugged on my massive love handles from the back, until they dislodged me from the door frame. Once freed, she walked over to me and kissed me most passionately, all the while playing with my massive belly rolls and breasts, then whispered in my ear "my, my but you're such a greedy glutton that you can't fit through the door anymore -- I guess you'll just have to come back and finish your dessert like a good prize hog should ..."
Reminiscing about it has given me a raging hard on but my restraints have left me no way to deal with it. Besides, I'm totally starved -- it has been three hours since being awoken for my wee hours snack of three dozen donuts!
But my feedress knows these things and just a moment later came into my room, rolling a food cart loaded to the brim with breakfast pastries and donuts, scrambled eggs and bacon, and two blender-fuls of her special gainer shake, each containing a quart of chocolate ice creme, whole milk, and obscene amounts of gainer formula.
She sees the ravenous look on my face and asks me what needs to be addressed first -- my empty belly or my turgid cock. But again she knows the answer and has her lads each grab a hold of my bottom roll of blubber, pulling it back to reveal a painfully erect penis, albeit buried deep in my pubic fat pad. My petite red headed feedress comments that even fully erect it barely peeks out from the bed of blubber in which it rests! But she explores its blubbery nest and finally grabs a hold of my manhood with both hands, working it up and down vigorously for a couple of minutes, then starts licking and kissing and sucking, while her two handlers man-handle my big belly and keep it out of mistress's way.
With all my excess weight it now takes substantially longer for me to climax so I ask the handler nearest the food cart to use his free hand to feed me some donuts. About six donuts and ten minutes later my pixie-like feedress expertly brings me to climax and commands the handlers to release my belly, letting it flop back down with full force right into her face! She laughs and readjusts herself so she can envelope herself in my infinite vastness, her tight little body sinking into my flesh and her head resting between my two udder-like breasts. All the while, the two handlers shovel more donuts into me, alternating with strips of bacon which they teasingly dangle just out of reach of my open mouth then drop in to my utter delight.
Then my feedress says "I can just feel you getting fatter under me, keep eating, keep getting fatter for me. I'm going to make you the fattest man ever who ever waddled the face of the earth."
What a charmed life I lead ...
My feedress hasn't weighed me in at least a month, but I must be over a half ton now and gravity has me firmly rooted to this mattress, at least until my feedress orders her two strapping male helpers, each of whom looks like he stepped out a GNC ad, to get her prize hog to his fat feet. Then when they do, I will look back at the bed and see the huge imprint in the mattress where my king-sized body just was.
I have to admit that seeing how much of the mattress I displace gets my motor running, not that anyone can tell with my favorite plaything buried under at least 600 pounds of pure belly fat (being subdued at the hands of a feedress gives me time to muse about things like what my "base" body weight would be sans belly, which I have scientifically concluded is at around 400 pounds such that 60% of my weight is in my enormous belly.
Just the thought of it makes me lament that both of my pudgy hands are ever so loosely bound that I cannot reach under my belly properly. I'm so arouse I can really use two free hands right now. I'll have to talk to my feedress about that!
My belly? It is a freak of nature now. When I'm standing, my lower roll now hangs below my knees. And my man breasts hang about even with where my waist used to be. When I walk, which is hard to do now, both my bottom roll and my moobs swing pendulously from side-to-side, which drives my feedress wild with desire.
I glance over at the wall where my feedress has enlarged images of me in all my fatness. My favorite is one showing me standing and chugging a blender-ful of her special weightgain shake. In the shot, I'm all hanging belly resting atop proportionately much smaller legs and ass cheeks and, at that time at least, hanging down about even with my knees. Then there are my two fatty breasts resting atop the belly and two enormously flabby arms grasping the pitcher firmly and guzzling its fattening contents down with abandon.
This particular shot was from when I was chugging my third gainer shake in a row with my feedress taunting me "chug Fatty, chug Fatty, drink those calories down" just like it was a fraternity drinking game. And since it was the third one in a row, I was a bit messy with the pitcher's contents. In fact, in the shot, I look remarkably like a classic Broken Cassette drawing, with gainer shake dripping down my chest, stopping briefly at my belly button and protruding lower belly and then dripping off and pooling on the floor. I always loved that image when I was not so heavy and aspired to be like Broken Cassette's obviously half ton man. And now I'm living it everyday!
My feedress? She is far from cruel. Relentless would be a better word.
She pretends, and so do I, that I can stop this anytime. The last time I attempted to was towards the end of a massive dinner, where she served me ten massive double cheeseburgers, washed down by two liters of Coke. I was utterly stuffed and demanded to leave before she stuffed me with dessert -- four pounds of chocolate pudding loaded in two pastry bags so that she could just squeeze the goodness into my mouth like a fat baby greedily suckling from his mother's teets.
I had recently weighed in at 900 pounds and got it in my mind that I simply couldn't get any fatter (boy was I wrong). I attempted to extract myself from a feeding chair where I spend most of my time when not in bed, but I was so bottom heavy that I couldn't heave myself out under my own power. My feedress motioned her two strong helpers to each grab one of my flabby upper arms. They managed to get me about halfway up, while she pulled the chair out of the way and pushed my butt from behind to get me upright.
I first had to get my sea legs, giving myself a moment to achieve some semblance of balance with 900 pounds resting on my comparatively spindly legs. Then I started trying to walk toward the door, but my belly was slapping hard against my thighs with every baby step I made. I wasn't going to get anywhere fast like that so I started into an exaggerated waddle where I moved my legs more side to side than front to back! She was dying with laughter at my slow progress, as were her attendants, who finally each grabbed under my fat-encased armpits and helped me to the door. Even though it was only about 20 feet away it took about ten minutes for them to lumber me over.
As we got closer, I shook off their assistance, determined to make it the rest of the way on my own. Unfortunately, my belly had other ideas as when I hit the doorway I encountered a serious case of stuckage. I had been thru the doorway just three months before, when I only weighed 750 pounds (three-eights of a ton) and had encountered no problems. But 900 pounds was a different story and my feedress and handlers guffawed again at my expense, taunting me "come on Fatty, you can do it."
But I couldn't do it. My feedress sent her two boys through another door and they came around and started pushing my belly from the front while she tugged on my massive love handles from the back, until they dislodged me from the door frame. Once freed, she walked over to me and kissed me most passionately, all the while playing with my massive belly rolls and breasts, then whispered in my ear "my, my but you're such a greedy glutton that you can't fit through the door anymore -- I guess you'll just have to come back and finish your dessert like a good prize hog should ..."
Reminiscing about it has given me a raging hard on but my restraints have left me no way to deal with it. Besides, I'm totally starved -- it has been three hours since being awoken for my wee hours snack of three dozen donuts!
But my feedress knows these things and just a moment later came into my room, rolling a food cart loaded to the brim with breakfast pastries and donuts, scrambled eggs and bacon, and two blender-fuls of her special gainer shake, each containing a quart of chocolate ice creme, whole milk, and obscene amounts of gainer formula.
She sees the ravenous look on my face and asks me what needs to be addressed first -- my empty belly or my turgid cock. But again she knows the answer and has her lads each grab a hold of my bottom roll of blubber, pulling it back to reveal a painfully erect penis, albeit buried deep in my pubic fat pad. My petite red headed feedress comments that even fully erect it barely peeks out from the bed of blubber in which it rests! But she explores its blubbery nest and finally grabs a hold of my manhood with both hands, working it up and down vigorously for a couple of minutes, then starts licking and kissing and sucking, while her two handlers man-handle my big belly and keep it out of mistress's way.
With all my excess weight it now takes substantially longer for me to climax so I ask the handler nearest the food cart to use his free hand to feed me some donuts. About six donuts and ten minutes later my pixie-like feedress expertly brings me to climax and commands the handlers to release my belly, letting it flop back down with full force right into her face! She laughs and readjusts herself so she can envelope herself in my infinite vastness, her tight little body sinking into my flesh and her head resting between my two udder-like breasts. All the while, the two handlers shovel more donuts into me, alternating with strips of bacon which they teasingly dangle just out of reach of my open mouth then drop in to my utter delight.
Then my feedress says "I can just feel you getting fatter under me, keep eating, keep getting fatter for me. I'm going to make you the fattest man ever who ever waddled the face of the earth."
What a charmed life I lead ...
