Bob’s Gaining Journey - Part 9

The next day, I woke up when I felt tiny hands caressing my belly, only to realize that it was Oscar’s giant paws, feeling dwarfed on my immense body.

His belly massage felt like heaven. I could feel every new curve of my massive body. He even pushed his entire muscled-up arm inside my belly button to see how deep it was, and couldn’t even reach the end. He looked at me in the eyes and said, in a worried voice: ”Now what?”

He thought that I would express some form of regret, that we went too far, because I had become a helpless blob, unable to do anything.

But instead of mourning, I said two words that would illuminate his eyes like a kid at Christmas.

“Feed…me…”

He couldn’t believe it. I was willing to grow even bigger, and I officially chose him as my feeder. He was over-excited and continued to caress me for a while.

He took a month of vacation from the gym to devote his summer holidays to me.

Each day, he would cook and feed me from morning to evening,

I couldn’t stop eating. All day long, I would munch on food until my jaw hurt. The only pause I had, was when Oscar was out to the grocery store. He would come back with a truck full of food that would not even last a day. He would even call for pizza and chicken delivery.

I was gaining weight at an alarming rate. My fat was rising like dough. My belly and my butt fused together under me: I was floating on top of a sphere of fat, higher and higher as I grew.

One time, Oscar invited his gym friends to the backyard for a BBQ party. I heard them from afar.

“Guys, meet my friend Bob”

They all stopped in their tracks and dropped what they had in their hand, standing there for a full minute, doing involuntary sounds of awe.

“You know the slogan of my gym?”

“Grow until you’re satisfied!“, they all completed in unison.

“Exactly! Well, this guy wasn’t dreaming about muscles, but size is size, you know!”

Surprisingly, his friends were not disgusted by my body, but amazed by my mass, weight, height, and dedication. They all slowly approached and I felt a dozen pairs of hands thumping, pushing, feeling and caressing every part of my body they could reach.

All day long, his friends were fascinated by the fact that I would eat anything they would bring to me. One by one, they would push as many hot dogs, hamburgers and pitchers of beer they could get their hands on. Oscar had to make many trips to the grocery store that day, and even then, this wasn’t enough to make me full. I just slowly grew to accommodate it all.

At the end of that month of feeding, we both knew that I was slowly approaching my critical mass. My head was 10 feet above the ground, at the peak of my Titianesque mass. My hands and feet wouldn’t budge: they were enveloped in an extremely thick layer of fat. My body was emitting a deep groan 24/7. My skin was hard and textured like leather. It was so tense, so stretched out that Oscar had to apply lotion with a paint roller several times a day to keep it moisturized, to make sure it wouldn’t rip. The large and deep tunnel that was my navel was slowly shrinking as the fat was trying to fill every spot. My fat rolls fused together. Who knows how many tons I was weighing.

On the final day, a squeaking sound could be heard. I felt immense pressure in the middle of my stomach. Faint in the morning, but louder and more painful as the day went by.

The only food left was a barrel of gainer shake. Oscar wondered if it was wise to make me drink it, as I was looking ready to burst.

“One…last…push…”, I answered, in pain.

He plugged the hose inside my mouth and started to pump the liquid into me.

My cheeks were creaking. My ears were ringing. My eyes were bulging out.

The liquid wouldn’t go down my throat at all, I was full. So it just accumulated inside my growing cheeks and enlarging neck. And kept on coming.

I screamed out a muffled, deep roar, the most intense I had ever done in my life.

It opened my throat and the liquid was sucked down to my belly, which surged forward in a final growing spurt. There was no space left inside me.

The sound grew a lot louder, and so did the pain.

“Man, are you ok? What’s happening?”

In my now extremely deep voice, I would only say: “Belly… button…stretch…pain…”

The empty tunnel that was my belly button had always been a buffer to eat more: it would shrink when my stomach needed space to expand and return to its original size after my digestion. But now, the tunnel was slowly shrinking, emitting the sound of a balloon about to pop. Oscar was panicking, and I was groaning in pain, sweating profusely.

The sound reached its apogee as Oscar was looking at it closely…

Suddenly, with the force of a cannon, my belly button popped out.

“POP!!!!!!”

The shockwave sent all 400 pounds of Oscar flying in the air, 12 feet away from me. Confused, he got back on his feet and ran toward me to see what had happened.

My innie turned into an outie. The bottom of my belly button had detached itself and had been blown out and inflated into an outie the size of a tennis ball. Now that it popped out, I felt stuffed to the absolute maximum. The pressure inside me was trying hard to find a way to release, but there wasn’t any. My body was pulsating with each heartbeat. I couldn’t move at all. I was finally immobile.

We were both relieved that I didn’t explode, but we looked at each other and we knew that we had reached the end of my gaining journey.

We had to call the hospital: I was the fattest that I could ever be. I had to be taken care of.

The thought of being the absolute fattest version of myself gave me the best orgasm of my life. Somewhere, hidden in that mountain of blubber, there was a ballooned-up and ultra-fattened dick that exploded and shot gallons of cum.

To be continued