Megan’s stomach clenched painfully, a mixture of nerves and excitement. She was finally moving out of her parent’s house, and moving from a sleepy little village to the big city opened a world of possibility for her. She didn’t know yet what she would do with all that freedom, but she was excited to find out.
The only problem was, her only having a starter job, that she had to have a roommate. She only had a starter job so, like most people moving out for the first time, there was nowhere she could afford to live by herself, so she was forced to move in with a near perfect stranger. She’d met him once before though, and he seemed nice enough, if a little quiet.
Megan set the last box down with a huff of exertion. She was generally pretty fit, from years of netball at school and college, but dragging all her belongings up 3 flights of stairs still took a toll. She collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, smiling at the thought that this room was all hers. She laid there for a few minutes, catching her breath, when there was a gentle knock at the door.
Megan sat forward with a jolt, brushing wisps of blond hair out of her face.
“Come in!” She half-yelled awkwardly.
There was a click, and the door swung slowly forward. Her new roommate, Tom, stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable with his shoulders hunched with his hands in his pockets.
“Hi Megan. I know you’ve had a long day, what with moving in and everything. So I, uh, made you dinner, if you want it.”
As he said it, her stomach growled quietly with hunger. Just a glance out the window told her that it was far later than she realised, and now she was starving. It felt a bit awkward, but she figured this would be a good way to get to know him.
“Sure, that sounds great, thanks.” She replied brightly, standing and giving him a smile. He returned it with a sheepish one of his own, turning and walking out the room. She followed, and as soon as she stepped out of the room, a mouthwatering scent hit her. Her stomach growled even louder as Tom led her through to the little dining table set up in the kitchen. Two plates were set up, loaded with vegetables, salmon fillets, and potatoes in a cream sauce.
“Wow, Tom, this looks amazing! You didn’t have to do all this.” Thinking back, he had mentioned something about working in a kitchen when they’d first met, but she didn’t think he was an actual chef.
“It’s no trouble, I hope you like it.” He said quietly, taking a seat. Megan sat too, giving him one more smile before digging in. She was forced to suppress a moan as the first forkfull hit her tongue. The salmon was cooked perfectly, lightly flavoured with hints of herbs and a zing of lemon. She ate quickly, forgetting about the awkwardness of eating with a stranger and letting her hunger take over. It didn’t take long for the plate to be cleared, and she let out a small groan. Megan has never had much of an appetite, and that heavy laden plate was more than enough to fill her small stomach, leaving her feeling bloated and tired.
“That was so good, thank you.” She sat back with a sigh as Tom gave me a shy smile.
“You’re welcome.” He started to stand, picking up the plates.
“I’ll do the washing, since you cooked.” Megan said, though at that moment even keeping her eyes open was a struggle.
“Don’t worry about it. Consider it a welcome present for my new roommate.’
"Okay…” she felt slightly bad, but was far too tired to argue about it. Instead, she just let her head droop back, eyes closed, one hand rubbing her bloated stomach absent-mindedly. After a few minutes, when she felt in danger of actually falling asleep, she stood up.
“Thank you again for the meal Tom, but it’s been a long day, so I think I’m going to have an early night.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he washed up the pots and plates at the sink. “It’s okay. See you tomorrow.”
I give him one last smile before immediately heading to my room and falling into my bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
…
The next few days continued much like the first. Megan’s work-from-home job meant she had quite a relaxed schedule, getting up most days after Tom had already left for work. That first morning, Tom had left her a note saying he knew she hadn’t had a chance to buy any food yet, so she was welcome to anything she liked. She was touched by the kindness, and surprised to see that, even if she had bought food, there wouldn’t have been anywhere to store it. The fridge and cupboards were at capacity, filled with such a wide variety of foods. Megan, who was initially planning on just having some toast, had woken up with quite the appetite and, upon seeing the feast before her, couldn’t help herself from making something a bit more substantial. Half an hour later she had made herself a greasy fry-up, complete with eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, the works. She sat down to eat it, not even thinking about how this was twice what she would normally have for breakfast, stuffing herself until the plate was cleared and she was left cradling her bloated gut. After a few minutes, she grabbed her laptop and sat in her room, deciding it was better to get on with some work rather than going through the physical exertion of unpacking. Then, barely three hours later, she was hungry again. Barely even thinking, she made her way out to the kitchen once more, making another meal far larger than she should be eating.
So, that became their routine. Megan making herself two large meals and Tom making her a third, even larger one when he got back from work. Each time he would insist, and would tidy up afterwards, and she noticed that he’d kept the cupboard stocked and not even asked for food money. It was even worse on his days off. Three home-made meals, all so large they barely fit on the plate, leaving Megan so stuffed for the whole day that she couldn’t even function. Not to mention the snacks he would bring her as she ‘worked’. She was so allured by his amazing cooking that she didn’t even notice the difference in their portion sizes, how he was giving her more than the lion’s share. And she spent so much of her time stuffed and bloated that she didn’t even notice when her clothes started getting tight for other reasons. She spent so much of the day eating that she didn’t realise that her stomach was no longer flat when empty, but instead formed a soft, doughy paunch that just rested on her lap whenever she sat down. She didn’t think about how painfully tight the waistbands of her trousers would be, because she spent most of her time in pyjamas or joggers. She had little reason to go outside anyway, not when there was more of Tom’s cooking to eat.
After a month or so, Tom started leaving leftovers as well. It seemed like all he did when he was home was cook, so much so that there were full meals left in the fridge for Megan to enjoy when he was gone. Not to mention that he’d also taken up baking, so there were constantly cakes and cookies left around as he practiced. Megan felt a bit of pride in that - she was an excellent taste tester, always having a large sample so she could give an accurate assessment, and he was getting better everyday.
This was all fine for Megan. She quickly grew to love the indulgent lifestyle, so much so that she didn’t even register the rapid changes her body was undergoing. It was easy to blame these changes on how full her stomach was. Of course her shirts won’t fit over her stomach, she’s just bloated, it will go down once she’s digested. Of course rolling out of bed is getting tiring, she’s still full from last night’s meal. She was so in denial that she didn’t even register how much her gut filled her lap now, or how she had to squeeze her growing ass into even her loosest joggers. It’s hard to think about that when she spends every day stuffed to the gills, rubbing her aching gut and wondering when Tom will bring out the next batch of cookies for her to try.
…
Tom had started buying her new clothes now. He said he must’ve shrunk them when he washed them, that’s why Megan’s trousers ripped when she was eating dinner last night, and that’s why her blouses wouldn’t even button up anymore. She couldn’t blame him, he was kind enough to do that for her while she was busy with working and eating. In fact, he was doing nearly everything for her, making sure she didn’t have to move a muscle. Every morning, she would slowly roll out of bed, sitting on the edge for a few minutes to catch her breath and prepare herself. Then, she would rest one hand on her nightstand, the other on her stomach, and slowly lift herself up. It was a bit of a struggle, but nothing that couldn’t be solved by being a bit more active. She should start to get out more. Tomorrow.
Then, she would waddle slowly over to the door, not wanting to strain herself so early in the morning. She would take a quick break, leaning against the wall, to catch her breath again, before squeezing through the doorway (why were city apartments so small?). Her hips had started digging painfully into the side, so she found it easier to turn, very slowly, and ease herself through sideways, though even then her ass and belly would brush the edges slightly. Tom would be in the kitchen, already cooking her breakfast with a smile on his face. Megan would make her way to the couch, exhausted by the time she arrived. She took the middle seat now, the end seats making her feel squished. She guessed such small apartments didn’t have space for full sized furniture. Then, Tom would bring over her meal, four loaded plates crowded together on a large tray. She would rest it on her belly, now acting as a very convenient table, and dig in, the first of many meals each day. Tom would make sure she was always eating, somehow bringing out whatever she was craving at that moment, massaging her belly whenever it started feeling bloated again. Even the act of eating would get tiring, by which point Tom would take over, bringing the fork to her lips so quickly she barely had time to swallow each bite. He looked after her so well, always making sure she felt welcome in her new home.
WHERE is the tall sexy person who walks up behind me, wrapping their arms around me and groping and massaging the heavy hang of my belly, kissing and nibbling my fat neck, whispering into my ear, goading my appetite. feeling up the sides of my stomach as I eat til I’m so stuffed and bloated I can barely stand
breakfast in bed but your partner just keeps bringing you more food, making it an all day feast and not letting you move an inch, just keeping you stuffed and utterly pampered from the moment you wake up to the moment you succumb to your food coma
concept: (soon to be chubby) king and a doting consort.
the king often becoming too wrapped up in paperwork and legal matters to remember when to eat, so of course his loyal, loving consort makes sure there’s always a fresh plate of food on his desk at mealtime. if the king is too busy, they’ll hand feed him, ripping off pieces of thick bread, pushing it past his lips, spooning him bites of rich stew. they make sure the king eats until he’s satisfied and agrees to take a break, to which the consort takes him to have a second dinner together.
pampering their king with decadent desserts in bed, refreshing wine during hot baths, the sweetest fruits hand delivered to them during meetings. everyone can see how well the king’s consort is taking care of him, with his hidden jawline and softening figure, no longer jagged lines and hard muscle. he’s more peaceful, more at ease now that he has them by his side.
the consort tending to their king after feasts, sending him teasing glances during the meal, urging him to try this or that, piling his plate high and giving him an encouraging pat to the thigh as he works through his load. taking him back to their shared chambers and stripping him of the tight garments he’s wearing, massaging away any aches in his belly.
that diet of yours was going great back in….september? you were slim, down 30 pounds, and look what happened to you. october came around and you told yourself you could have just one cheat day, right? except one led to two which led to three and then you swore you’d get back on your diet after halloween, a couple pounds could be shed quick.
but then november hit and you kept making excuses on why you weren’t going to the gym as often, why you slept in through your usual morning runs and ate a late breakfast instead. you said once you had all the shopping done for thanksgiving you’d hit the treadmill, but then you couldn’t stop sampling all the desserts you made and then wonder why those jeans you bought back in august won’t zip up anymore.
at the beginning of december you decided it was finally time to get back on track with your diet, except you couldn’t run down the block without having to stop for air, and that’s if you could even manage to get your running outfit on. so you said you’d go get new exercise clothes, but you didn’t and instead you picked up a cake and decided to treat yourself. and you thought there’s no way anyone could blame you for slacking when all the christmas candy looked so good, and you put everyone to shame at the dinner table on christmas day when you finished off seconds, thirds, and fourths before you started to pant. what did it take, six plate fulls before you couldn’t stand up, pinned under your own fat? and those jeans you swore were saved for your “fat” days didn’t last past your third plate of dessert, but you didn’t care, did you?
now its new years eve and you’ve put back on those thirty pounds you worked so hard to lose, plus 20 pounds extra, for good measure. i wonder how heavy you’ll be this time next year.
your partner knowing you’re a little stressed recently so they start baking your favorite treats and bringing them to you when you’re not feeling the best, just to see a smile on your face.
(those sweet treats start to add up, but who’s complaining?)
coming home or waking up to fresh, filling meals because they know you had a hard day and don’t feel like cooking. them always adding just a little more then necessary to your plate, because nothing makes them happier than seeing you full and blissed out in your seat, a sated look on your face.
taking you out for romantic dates at restaurants they know you love and treating you to whatever you feel like, and however much you want. not judging or laughing when you order seconds, then thirds, then a dessert just to top it off. they even hand over their leftovers to you when you scrape the bottom of your plate, grinning because you haven’t look happier than you do right now.
coming up behind you while you’re standing around the house and admiring their work, one hand slowly drifting under your shirt while they press a lazy kiss to your neck. something about your new softness entrances them.
they can’t ever keep their hands to themselves now. during movie night, they lay their head on your soft belly, content to slowly drift off to the lazy sound of your stomach digesting and the occasional crinkle of wrappers as you snack on the candy they had gifted you.
them loving you no matter what size you’re at, and just appreciating you for who you are. they love you in your entirety, and if you gain a little weight? well, that’s just more for them to love.
i want to touch you. i want to run my hands across your belly and your wide hips, and ask how you got so big? i want to watch you squirm and whimper under my touch as i pinch and squeeze every new ounce of fat on your softened body. i want you to met under my touch like warm, gooey chocolate as i hand feed you treats and worship your soft, jiggling belly. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be so full and so turned on you can’t help but whimper and cry out, begging me to give you the release you need, since you’re so full you cant even sit up to finish the job yourself. i can just imagine what all those extra calories would do to your body, and how much softer you’ll be under my hands next time.
you know the rules. you don’t get to come until i’ve finished all my food. i want you to sit here and watch me eat all this food, unable to touch yourself or get off at all. if you’ve followed my rules, maybe i’ll let you cum by the end of the night. if you decide to break my rules, i won’t let you come and you’ll have to sit and watch me get myself off, and you won’t get to touch, understand? once i’m full and satisfied, i’ll let you use my leg to get off, but you have to wait for me to cum first, okay baby? can you do that? i’d hate to have to cut my stuffing short because you can’t behave. you want me nice and fat don’t you? then sit there and behave like a good little baby.
do you really think i’ve gotten fat? i know i’ve put weight but it’s not that much! just a couple pounds, water weight basically! i know my clothes don’t fit as well anymore, but it’s probably just because of my old washing machine. just because these jeans won’t button anymore doesn’t mean i’ve gotten “too fat.” besides, i always have sweatpants i can wear…even if they’re starting to feel a little tight too…what do you mean, its because i’m overeating? im on a diet! well…im starting a diet tomorrow, but still! i’m not a fucking pig, just because i ate that whole cake, okay? it would’ve been too much of temptation during my diet! so what i had a couple cokes, they’re not that bad for you…besides, it’s not like i don’t have self control around food. i only got two burgers today from mcdonalds as a snack instead of three! i went to taco bell for lunch so i didn’t need to eat that much! and for breakfast i only had one donut from dunkin instead of two. no, i’m not going on a run with you tomorrow, it’s not like i need to or anything. yes, my workout clothes still fit, just because they’re a medium doesn’t mean they won’t fit. sure, i usually wear a 2XL now but that just means they’ll be a little snug, so they won’t fall off. i could lose it if i wanted, but it’s not even that much, so why would i bother wasting time running when i could be eating? keep telling yourself that, but i’m not fat….
aw, you’re full? that’s cute. maybe you should’ve thought about that before you went and stuffed your greedy little mouth full of that whole pie i just made. maybe if you had a modicum of self-restraint you wouldn’t be so full now, would you? if you’re so greedy, you’re gonna have to finish these other two pies i made, since you obviously can’t control yourself in front of food. you’re such a fatass, are you seriously drooling right now? does the idea of being so full that you can’t even stand up, literally being pinned to your chair by your own gluttony, get you turned on? you’re gonna eat all this, and you’re gonna like it, i’ll be the judge of when you’re “full.” if you still have room to suck in, you’re not full. maybe next time you’ll think twice before touching what isn’t yours. or maybe you’ll eat it just because you’re that fucking greedy that you can’t help yourself, and you know you’ll just get more food as a punishment, won’t you?
two best friends who help each other gain weight <3
having little study dates where they pick up each others favorite snacks and spend the night studying and stuffing, until they’re full and too sleepy to continue reading
going shopping together and teasing each other when they try on an outfit that just isn’t going to fit, but still trying to make it work anyways. having to help each other button up tight jeans or tuck in shirts, pull up stubborn skirts or unforgiving button-ups.
sending each other pictures of their meals just to make one another jealous over how many calories they’re about to eat, and how much bigger they’re gonna get than the other one.
having little competitions on who is going to gain more weight that month, whoever loses has to buy them a big dinner to commemorate the occasion. helping each other finish off the giant meal, and laughing at each other as they struggle to pull their stuffed selves out of the seats and back to their car
