HOME | DD

Description
"Do you remember the cheesecake?"

The words were the only thing to pierce the silence. They hung there briefly as vapors before they coalesced and condensed within his ears. His peaceful face contorted into confusion. Deep in his trance, he couldn't see the danger that lie ahead.

"What?"

Hunter had come in seeking therapeutic hypnosis for an overeating problem. Over the last year, he had glutted himself on thousands of extra calories and poured an extra forty pounds into his once lithe frame. The effects were dramatic: his clothes seemed to audibly creak around his swollen frame and clung to a round, protruding stomach--less like soft, flabby fat and more like he had put on weight so rapidly it all settled in his gut before it had the chance to spread evenly across his frame.

He came in with stories about nights where, after work, he would stuff himself out of idle boredom. With no hobbies besides watching television, and a lack of friends outside of work, he had simply taken up eating as a hobby. What had started as dinner with an occasional dessert became nightly desserts. What had been nightly desserts became desserts with snacks. He noticed his portions growing week after week even as his clothes visibly tightened against his swelling frame.

It was clear that he was not only getting fatter, he was getting fatter faster than he knew how to adjust.

And, I decided, this wasn't going to change.

"Do you remember the cheesecake."

His mind searched for something to connect to, but came up blank.

"No."

"Would you like me to remind you?"

Hunter nodded.

"It was one of your very first dessert binges." This was a lie. I knew it was a lie. However, in this susceptible state, there was just enough truth for it to begin to make sense.

"A dessert binge, just like the others."

"Yes, just like the others. Do you remember now? You said it was one of your favorite flavors."

Hunter slowly started to nod, as if remembering of his own volition. "It was… a vanilla cheesecake." A low grumble audibly rose out of Hunter's stomach and he instinctively raised both hands to rest on the upper swell of his gut, just below his chest. A feeling of fullness briefly manifested in the pit of his stomach. His face contorted into discomfort before another grumble from deep within his stomach rose into his chest, causing him to hiccup slightly.

He could taste the cheesecake on the back of his palate, like indigestion had forced some back up his throat. He sighed contently, as the sudden fullness passed--the memory of the cheesecake feeling fresh and vivid, despite being a falsehood. I smiled as I watched Hunter's hands return to his sides. I knew that, even though it wasn't noticeable yet, he was the slightest bit fatter and, even more important, completely suggestible.

"So, what did you do?"

As guilt flashed across his face, I understood how far his own imagination was willing to take him. "I… I ate the whole thing in a single sitting." I let out a hard, guttural sigh, as I felt my own cock begin to swell with arousal. He was already so far along that his mind and body willingly bought into the idea of eating a whole cheesecake in a single sitting. As I began to tease my hard member through the lining of my pants, I realized that he was already on the edge of being a true glutton--he just needed someone to push him past the point of no return.

"I bet that wasn't the last time you ate a cheesecake in a single sitting, was it?"

He shook his head, and a deep rumble from within his stomach ominously drowned out the silence in the room. Hunter instinctively brought his hands to his protruding gut again as a familiar fullness surged into his stomach. "That was the start. Then it was intermittent--I began to crave it, and, lately, it's spiraled. I've been eating a whole cheesecake…" He paused and his stomach audibly growled again, increasing in fullness until, finally, a deep belch escaped him. "Every week… Ohh," Hunter groaned, the fullness suddenly overtaking him. He released another, long, deep belch; the fresh, thick, heavy taste of luxurious cheesecake suddenly appearing on his tongue. "For the last seven months."

The fullness in his stomach sharply increased, and Hunter gave a pained moan and belched as his body suddenly went into overdrive to manifest his new memories. As if from nowhere, his body found itself suddenly inundated with months of cheesecakes worth of calories and all of his fat cells became possessed by a single directive: divide and grow.

I watched as Hunter's gut immediately began to swell beneath his own hands, forcing them further apart. The supple, protuberant flesh rose like an ocean tide, swelling out from under the hem of his shirt and sliding further across his lap. As the memories of his hedonism flooded his body, his gut swelled further out of the confines of the shirt - blowing up almost in an even circumference. As his gut advanced further, his love handles blossomed with thick, supple fat. His chest visibly rose against his shirt, and for the first time, the outlines of soft, supple nipples could be seen perched atop breasts.

As the fullness began to subside, Hunter released another belch and a soft, "Ooof," before pushing himself further back against the chair. His thickening thighs shuffled against each other, hinting that his ass was ballooning to match. I imagined firm, supple globes straining the fabric tight, and I finally pulled out my own cock and began to massage it while this man ballooned into the glutton he was meant to be.

Hunter seemed to relax, and the swelling stopped. His rounded cheeks and smooth jaw line looked almost jovial to have suddenly gained so much weight, but likely he was genuinely glad to no longer feel so full. A double chin was beginning to come in, and below that, his supple breasts strained the shirt so badly you could see cleavage. The hem of his shirt rested almost comically just under his chest, leaving his stomach bared--it was maybe 40 pounds, but the shirt was tight enough initially that I wasn't surprised. An ominous creaking sound filled the silence, no doubt the sound of the seams on his clothes pulling taut.

I licked my lips, surveying the plump sausage in front of me. That sound was slowly getting to me--edging me closer to excitement, but at the same time denying me the climax I so badly wanted.

"Was it always just one cheesecake a week?"

"I.." Hunter started, again feeling fullness overtake him. "I guess it's obvious," he gave a nervous chuckle that dissolved into a polite burp. "It started out that way, but…" His gut released another growl. "For the last couple months, it's been at least twice a week--sometimes--" his own body interrupted him, and with a loud forceful belch, his body began to bloat again, "even three times a week."

"Ohhhh, fuck," he moaned as he again gripped his swollen middle. I watched as the lazy eye of his bellybutton rapidly advanced another couple inches further. Stretchmarks manifested on his love handles even as his soft breasts began to swell and sag. Below, his chubby thighs stretched tightly against his shorts and finally, an almost angelic ping sound reached my ears and I knew that, beneath that quivering, overfed balloon of a belly his shorts button had blown off and gotten trapped.

I bit my lips, almost on the edge of climax. What kind of glutton goes through multiple cheesecakes in a week? Hunter's swollen, cherubic cheeks belied a hedonistic gluttony that I only wanted to explore further.

"Well," I still had to play my role. "I’m glad you came clean about the cheesecakes, but, what about the ice cream?"

"The ice cream?"

"Yeah, you had mentioned that it is your… regular dessert."

"Oh, I… Yeah, it's my go-to dessert. You know it's so easy to just…," His hands reached down to his swollen, round stomach and he began massaging the supple fat, almost reflexively. "Lose yourself in a pint, you know? Like, you just start eating, and…" his hands pushed together from either side of his gut, forcing his fat to artificially bloat further out, narrowing his belly button into a lengthwise slit. He ran his hands up along the broad, supple curve of his gut to clamp tightly onto his bosom. "Before you know it, you're finished and you're fuller than you realized."

Almost to emphasize the point, he gave a polite burp before sliding his hands down the curves of his overfed torso. The chubby man who entered earlier, demure while uncomfortably adjusting his clothing to cover his body, had been replaced with a man not only teetering on the edge of obesity, but eerily comfortable with being a glutton. The extra fifty pounds of the last ten minutes was not only enough to bloat him out of his pants, but his shirt had rolled up to his chest, displaying entirety of his prodigious gut. It swelled wide and broad, less like it was filled with fat, and more like it was bloated with water. The best indicator of its softness was the belly button, which sat dead-center in the middle of the widest circumference of the beast--forced into a lazy, horizontal slit by the weight of the fat above it.

His shirt strained over his chest and shoulders, chafing his armpits. His breasts looked small, but full, and his softened, stretched nipples visibly strained the fabric in way that I could only imagine would be deliciously pleasant. The way his thick thighs spread out and further strained the fabric of shorts vaguely outlined his own crotch, but more than anything, it hinted that he perched on thick, supple orbs of overfed flesh.

And I… I knew I could fatten him up, sure--but, he seemed to have transitioned to the point where, instead of just remembering eating the food, he enjoyed the memories of eating. He enjoyed being a glutton. If I could potentially help him expand on this, or even, tie it into sex, then, he'd cross the line. He wouldn't just be obese when he left today--he would find himself tethered to fullness--to food--destined to fatten himself up into a prodigious superchub.

"Your clothes are uncomfortable." There was no need for the suggestion. It was a simple fact.

"Yes."

"Take them off."

"Is that okay?"

"Of course," I smiled.

He ungracefully shuffled himself forward in the chair, the heavy bulk of his stomach swaying side to side as a single mass as he wobbled to his feet. With a content sigh, just a few feet away from me, he struggled slightly with his shirt before pulling it up over his new double chin, past his fattened cheeks, and finally over his head. I watched him unceremoniously dump it on the floor, and then focused my attention entirely on the wide open gap between the edges of his pants. His fat flesh bulged through the gap, and the garment clung tightly enough to his legs to accentuate the bulge of his groin. I marveled at the heavy crease of his gut just above his pelvis, and watched, hypnotized, as he slowly shimmied his shorts and underwear down to the floor. The heavy ball of overfed dough rhythmically bounced to either side and the tumescent bulk of his love handles barely yielded even as his body sought to crease.

I was mostly toying with myself now, just enough to keep myself hard, but I'd had a burning curiosity I wanted to satisfy before we finished.

"Turn to face your right."

As he obediently shuffled to face the other direction, I got to take in his engorged profile. My expectations were met: from the front, his stomach led like an over-inflated balloon; but from the back, apparently to counterpoint, his ass had swollen and filled with enough fat to almost rival the bloated curves of his gut. The bulges of his body made him look like an inverted S. I sighed contently, and began to stroke myself harder. I was ready--not just to cum, but to finish creating a new overfed fatass with no impulse control.

"How about you lay down on your back?"

Without hesitation, he sat his plush rear on the floor before finally laying back. As his belly rose above him, I wondered whether, had he looked down, would he still be able to see his own dick? Or, had he ballooned so much already that someone could handily give him a blowjob and not be visible over the curve of that hill?

I licked my lips lightly, still gently playing with myself. I wondered how far to take him, or whether he was ready.

"Are you feeling a little horny? Don't you want to masturbate?" His fat cheeks dimpled as a broad smile crossed his face. "How did you know?" he laughed, causing his stomach to bounce. He slid his fattened hands over his thick sides and groped handfuls of his bloated body as he sensuously exhaled. "Is it okay if I masturbate?"

"Not yet."

He sighed in exasperation and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm going to anyway." One thick hand slid down and began playing with his hardening dick, while the other one began to ferociously grope his overfed torso. He let out a gentle moan as one hand dug hard into his fattened chest and the other clasped his testicles.

I smiled, watching the scene unfold in front of me. He was ready--completely self-indulgent.

"Are you hungry?"

A smile crossed his face, almost to match mine. His body responded to the suggestion easily, and his stomach growled loudly enough that I'd swear it shook.

"Wow, I should have guessed: a big boy like you is always hungry." He groaned outwardly, still lightly tugging on his dick.

"Does it make you feel good when you're full?"He nodded."Does it feel good when you masturbate?"He laughed, "Of course it fucking does.""So have you ever done both?""No. Why would I?"
"Yes, you have."

For a brief moment, he stopped tugging on his dick and the hand which was roaming his body came to pause on top of his stomach. "I have?" He asked, puzzled. "Yes," I continued, "you have."

"It started small. Remember? One night, bloated and stuffed on cheesecake, you found yourself masturbating."
"I--" he tried to speak, but instead, he was interrupted by a small belch.
"And you found out how much you liked it. You found yourself panting afterward, cum covering your own bloated stomach as your stuffed gut arched above you."

Hunter groaned again, the false memory becoming stronger within his own mind. His hand slid down to his dick again and began furiously tugging as the flashback played out. He could remember how good it felt to pull his erection into the bottom of his soft starter belly; how euphoric the tightness in his stomach felt; how hard his heart raced and how his lungs flooded with air just to constrict against the mass of cheesecake in his stomach.

"Fuck," he groaned, tugging furiously on his hard cock, forcing it up and into the fat of his protruding stomach. "You're right; I love that shit." His free hand aggressively slapped his own fat gut before giving it a hard grab and a jiggle, "That's how I got this fat this fast."

I smiled, beginning to pull harder on my own erection--the show was about to start.

"I know, fatass." Hunter huffed on the floor, furiously stroking himself while fondling his fat, waiting for release. "And you've become addicted to it, after all this time. Months of constantly stuffing yourself just to recapture that high. You're so used to it now that you need it--you can't cum unless you're stuffed to the brim."

"Oh my God," Hunter was audibly panting as a low grumble emanated from his stomach. "I know, I've been such a--" the grumble in his stomach gave way to a small, polite belch, "pig." I smiled--this was going better than anticipated. Hunter took to the fantasy like a fat-kid to a full fridge.

"Come on, Hunter. How much have you been eating just to fucking get off? What's your favorite?"

"It's ice cream. I--" Hunter's story was interrupted by a small, but growing sense of fullness. "I eat the stuff by the pint to get off." A low grumble emitted from Hunter's stomach, as the memories of his gorges began to materialize. His sense of fullness grew, and a low, long belch erupted from him as he could vividly recall the subtle taste of vanilla.

"For months I--" the grumble in his stomach grew louder, and another belch escaped him. Fullness was beginning to overtake him. "Oh, fuck, I want to come. For months I've been guzzling pints of ice cream before bed to masturbate. Sometimes I'll--" another loud belch escaped him and the fullness peaked, "Melt it in the microwave so it's even easier to eat. I just want to be full, so badly, I--oh, fuck." Hunter groaned, panting with effort, and brought both hands up to the top of his fully bloated gut. "I'm gonna---Oooohhh, fuck, I--URRRRRRP," as yet another long, deep belch rocked Hunter's form, his body finally gave in.

Fat cells awash with fresh calories suddenly doubled and re-doubled, and like a sail beset by the wind, Hunter billowed. He groaned and reached back down to ferociously tug at his cock as he grew into the fat pig his memories had made him. His free hand pulled and pleasured his nipples as fresh fat stretched them wider and thinner, forcing him to moan in ecstasy. As he groped at them with his thickening fingers and fleshier palms, he felt his tits swell up to fill then overfill his hand.

I watched, absorbed in lust as the fat boy on the floor ballooned before me. As countless calories suddenly materialized onto his frame, his double chin came solidly into place and thickened--almost fighting for room against his growing chest. His stomach grew wider even as it grew higher, looking almost like a balloon rapidly filling with pudding--or, more appropriately, melted ice cream. Hunter continued to aggressively tug on his dick, pulling it hard into the bottom of the soft, rolling curve of his stomach. The sensation of his sensitive head probing into his swelling fat was driving him closer to climax as each second he felt his cock get smothered by more and more fat.

I moaned, watching the display--I was so close. Hunter was panting constantly, moaning like an animal in heat as fat further overtook his frame. The bloated sensation had not subsided, and Hunter felt not only constantly stuffed, but close to climax.

"Melted ice cream? Just to drink? No wonder you're such a fat fuck."
"I know, I--" another belch rolled out of his throat; I watched the tire of his second chin continue to inflate.

"So once you're stuffed, you masturbate." Hunter's stomach bloated further--higher. His single large love handle split before my eyes, forming a second roll at his side just to accommodate the expansion. His breasts ballooned further, earning a whole roll in their own right, and I watched as his thighs spread wider, allowing more room for them to grow so that they weren't crushing his testicles.

"I don't just masturbate. I'll rest my hard dick on the counter and fuck my hand. At least--" another belch as his free hand groped a handful of his stomach fat--"I used to. But once I was three hundred, I realized I was big enough that--Oh, fuck, fuck--" Hunter's hand was ferociously working overtime, the sensations of his skin stretching with new fat and the head of his cock fighting against a growing belly were getting to him. I could see the pearlescent stains of precum dotting the base of his stomach, where he was fucking his own belly to get off. His whole body shook with the effort, as though his rapidly pumping arm were cradling his gut as it grew. I watched wave after wave shuffle up through his torso, rippling all the way up to collide his expanding double chin.

"Now, though, that I'm so big, I'll lean over and rest my fat, stuffed gut on my dick and--ahhh, fuck--I fuck my own fat until I come--" Hunter released a loud belch, "just like I'm about t---ahh, oh my God! Fuck!" Hunter reached an explosive climax, as he released yet another guttural belch. Long strings of cum rose in the air majestically, like water from a fountain, before landing as though a crown atop his massive, overfed stomach.

With heavy breaths, I came, watching the bloated whale on the floor finally subside his own fantasy. Freshly fed, Hunter shuffled his cottage cheese thighs as he struggled to regain his breath while his hands continued to explore his bloated frame. As the release of orgasm overcame him, his sense of fullness abated and his growth slowed to a stop. His stomach sloshed high above him as he spread himself eagle to recover, and his expanded double chin seemed to fight with his chest for room to grow. With less ceremony, I grabbed a kleenex from the chair side table and cleaned up my mess. Hunter--who had entered my office in the neighborhood of the solid, early 200s, was going to leave in the solid, early 300s--took the fantasy entirely within himself, but, that last bit of growth seemed to be too extensive for a pint of ice cream every night.

"Hunter, was it just a pint of ice cream?"

Hunter smiled and shrugged his shoulders, forcing the fat of his double chin to bulge outward as the motion compressed it from the sides. "It started that way--but I have to be full. A pint started to be too little, and I eventually graduated to two, and recently--," his stomach gurgled, and he released a small, content burp, "sometimes, it's even three."