I met him in the fall only a few years ago, but it feels like an eternity ago. We met at a convention, a date we arranged online only nights beforehand. I was so nervous meeting him in person. He was so energetic and out, his hard, fit body a far cry from my out of shape bulk, but he enjoyed it. That night, I would be his fatboy. We went around town, openly talking about fat and gaining, about what we truly desired. It was a frightening, yet amazing experience to openly talk about wanting to weigh in excess of 500lbs in public over an amazing sushi dinner. He kept urging me to eat more but I kept insisting I didn't want more only out of fear of maxing out his card. Looking back, I could've eaten more. We walked the streets of downtown, stopping only to wait for traffic to pass. He held me close, his powerful hands on my bulging belly and wide ass. Fear and arousal shot through me, and an overwhelming wish that I were fatter for him. The night ended in his hotel room as he laid atop me, feeding me cheesecake. His hands caressed my bare body, exploring my curves. I felt so weak and that only made me want it more. "Make me fatter," I'd moan as he stroked me. "I want to be fatter. Bigger. Weaker." I never had such a powerful orgasm before. I should've stayed in bed with him, but fear gripped me again and I excused myself for the night.
A loud cracking sound stirs me from my memories, the fall that followed snapped me back to reality as my 400lb bulk hit the classroom floor. Another chair destroyed. I feel my face grow hot from embarrassment and arousal as the eyes of the class all focus on my quivering gut as it jiggles about in my turtle-like attempts to stand upright. I feel sweat forming in my rolls, showing as slowly spreading wet stains on my skin-tight blue button-down shirt. I manage to roll on to my gut, my ass in the air almost bursting out of the size 70 jeans that are like spandex on me, and slowly get to my feet using a nearby desk for leverage. I hear the teacher mumble something but I can't make it out for the sound of my heart pounding in my chest echoing in my head. I wasn't used to such effort anymore. Once class was over, I waddled as fast as I could to the vending machines, popping in a fistful of dollars and grabbing as many candy bars as I can get my sausage-like fingers on, shoveling them down without a care to what the students passing by thought. I probably looked like I lost my mind, acting like I haven't eaten in days. It was always like this though. I had an addiction that needed enabling. I needed to eat. I needed to grow.
And every night I could come home to my beautiful feeder, his body only grown more powerful taking care of my growing bulk. His eyes always light up as he hears my heavy footsteps heading for the home office. They grew a hungry look to them every time I'd squeeze through that door and stop for breath. His strong arms would wrap around me, my pale flesh oozing around them, and he'd lead me to bed. The shirt would come off with a quick pull, sending buttons everywhere. My gut would cascade down, free of it's tight constraints after a hard day of simply walking from class to class. He'd ease my fat ass into bed and crawl in atop me, spreading my fat thighs. Recently, spreading them has become a useless gesture. They always touch, but we love that. There are so many wonderful things about being so bottom heavy. My dinner always came in bed with webcams pointed at me. People pay good money to watch the naked fat guy get stuffed. After a stuffing that always left my belly looking like it was about to burst wide open, he'd reach between my tree-trunk thick sides to pleasure me, my cock almost completely buried in fat. One day I know that I won't be leaving this bed. That's usually my last thought before I cum and nearly pass out from the effort. He always kisses my chins and lips before fitting my CPAP mask over my face, letting the lullaby of heart monitors and the CPAP lull me to sleep.