FOMO: Fear of Morbid Obesity (Patreon)

Author’s Note: Another fan suggested a story back in July.

[Content Warning: Force-feeding, immobility, health issue, blackmail, and humiliation.]

FOMO: Fear of Morbid Obesity

Rodney fucked up Colt’s life. He never should’ve messaged Rodney, let alone decide to meet Rodney after Rodney messaged him on a feederism app called Porkr. Rodney’s profile allured the Colt with dark fantasies that Colt developed himself over the years. Colt noticed Rodney wanted someone willing to be his hog, someone he could feed to immobility and beyond.

Rodney’s profile couldn’t be any more clear: Looking to be a daddy, a feeder, and a caregiver to a boy with no limits. I want a feedee to unleash the evil part of me, and someone serious that gets hard around bariatric equipment. I’m done being fake, nice mister feeder. I need fat in my face, in my life, and stuck in my bed. I’m a taboo encourager who refuses to shy away from the consequences of becoming circus side-show fat. Only message me if this is you. I don’t waste my time getting to know flakes.

Colt didn’t want to come across as a flake. That was the type profile that attracted him, and Rodney was a handsome, fit encourager. Even though Colt had a girlfriend, he needed an outlet for his fantasies that no one else understood. He figured he’d just get a big meal out of it with a stud, have mind-blowing death feeder sexcapades, and delete his profile before Rodney figured out the truth.

Colt hoped he’d attract Rodney with his first 30 pounds as an on-again, off-again gainer. Colt felt that it wasn’t as much about looks as it was about the message he’d need to send Rodney to get his attention. It needed to be as dark and taboo as Rodney’s profile. Colt wanted most things he wrote, but this was just fantasy with a stranger. “Hi, daddy! I’m a lazy fat boy who wants everything you described in your profile. The sky is the limit in terms of my weight. I’m aware of the risks and welcome them. I’m looking to be someone’s immobile, diabetic lard boy. In the right circumstances, I’ll give up my entire life to be someone’s blubber-bound food addict. I love to be teased, bullied, and blackmailed for my weight. Play with me as rough as you want. You might be the one to make our wildest dreams come true. I hope we can connect soon.”

Colt sent two pictures with the note. The first included his face, accentuating his medium-length dark hair, right pierced ear, and beard growing from his chubby cheeks. The second highlighted Colt sporting a pudgy belly that started to cover his fatpad when he sat, perky breasts, and fresh stretch marks streaking his pale flab. The message proved to Rodney that Colt wanted everything to happen the way it did; Colt got what he deserved to take his gluttony too far.

The message got Rodney’s attention, and the two met up at a coffee shop a few days later. Colt sat down in a gray short sleeve shirt and a pair of tight jeans. “The donuts are overstuffed, just like you will be once I’m done with you,” Rodney teased from across the table. Rodney insisted on the cafe because they had the best donuts. Colt took a bite causing the donut to burst with cream. Colt couldn’t control himself. The donuts were phenomenal, like Rodney said.

“I feel like I know a lot about you from our messages now, but I want to make sure this is what we both want,” Rodney explained to Colt.

Colt finished his donut quickly, causing Rodney to push another forward. Colt looked in Rodney’s eyes. They screamed at him to eat another. “How serious are you about achieving your goals?”

“I told you, I am an extreme death feedee who craves evil men and women to help ruin my body. I want to eat myself into the ground,” Colt said through a mouth full of fried dough and icing.

“That’s fine, and I love that, but if you’re going to be my pig boy, I’ve got expectations, and I need to know you’re dedicating everything to living this lifestyle.”

Colton munches on his donut. “I’ve gotten to 300 pounds by myself. I graze all day. I usually make gainer shakes out of cake batter, half and half, and chocolate syrup. I’ll do anything for you. What else do you expect of me?”

“Good, I like to hear you’ve made steps toward your goals. However, I expect real results, and there are consequences for not producing results. First, I expect you to gain a minimum of a pound per week. Second, you will take comparison photos or weigh yourself at my request at any time. Third, I’m a dom daddy. You will address me as such. Fourth, if you fail to get enormously obese for me, I will humiliate you. You should expect me to have access to your social media. I’m basically blackmailing you into gaining, or your photos will go public.”

The dark thought swarmed Colt’s brain. Something felt erotic about being exposed for his gluttony. “I want people shocked when I get my first nude humiliation photo leaked online. I’ll be covered in food and red all over from my blood pressure spiking, daddy. It’s only fair if I disappoint you.”

“Alright, well, let’s start now,” Rodney handed Colt his phone opened to the Facebook app. Colt stared at the login screen for a moment. It wasn’t supposed to get that far. He only said it because it turned him on at the moment. This was a fantasy, not a reality. He wanted to eat his donuts, get fucked, and leave. “Right now? I just met you. Maybe we should go on another date first,” Colt danced around the offer.

“I said I’m serious about making a 1,000-pound pig. Put in your email and password,” Rodney’s words were a demand, not a request.

Colt grabbed Rodney’s phone, smearing the screen with chocolate syrup from the donut still in his hand. He input his information on the phone and handed it back to Rodney.

Rodney wiped the chocolate off his phone with his finger and, without hesitation, put his finger in Colt’s mouth. Colt blushed, sucking on this stranger’s finger in public. “Don’t be so shy. You love sucking the chocolate off daddy’s finger, don't you?” Then, Rodney cleaned the rest of his phone with a napkin and scrolled through his pig’s personal information. “I won’t be as abrasive to you if you’re a good fat fuck. This is the long haul, son. As long as you do everything I say, you’ll enjoy the rest of your short, obese life.”

Colt finished his last donut. “I should be going now. I promised my mother I’d help her plant flowers. I’ll message you later,” Colt excused himself. He needed to change his password so the device would log Rodney out. Colt started to leave, but Rodney stopped him.

“Oh, and Colt?”

“Yes?” Colt asked nervously, holding his taught belly from the fullness.

“My profile said not to fuck with me. We’re going to be in a serious feederism relationship. Your Facebook says you’re in a relationship with some poor girl named Jessica,” Rodney informed him. Colt’s heart sank. Shit, Colt forgot about his relationship status until after he willingly gave Rodney access to his account.

“I can explain,” Colt felt nauseous because of the stranger peaking through his personal information.

“I’m breaking up with her right now as I pretend to be you. She’d be disgusted with how fat I’m going to make you anyway. This will save you the heartache later,” Rodney took control without asking Colt how he felt.

Colt didn’t know what to say. He loved Jessica and intended to propose someday. Colt’s heart pounded as he responded the only way he knew how after Rodney explained his expectations. ”Y-yes, daddy,” Colt gulped. He got a taste of how controlling Rodney would be during their relationship, and it excited and scared Colt at the same time. His cock leaked like the donut while he walked out of the coffee shop. When he got home, he decided against changing his password. What's the worst thing that could happen? Something about being dominated felt right.

In no time, Rodney convinced Colt to move in with him. Colt acted apprehensively at first. Did he really want all this? A random encounter to get off on Porkr didn’t go as planned. Yet, Rodney poured his resources in transforming Colt, feeding him, and making love to him like a wolf preparing a pig. Colt couldn’t help but say yes as Rodney made his heart melt with the dirty talk.

Rodney knew how to get results with around the clock feedings, calorie-laden treats, and minimal exercise. Colt ballooned fast, much more than he could ever gain by himself. Rodney couldn’t keep his hands off Colt as he earned a minimum of one pound per day as he promised. Sensitivity developed around Colt’s body. When Rodney explored his body, he caressed Colt’s thighs, cupped his thick tits, and ran his fingers down Colt’s expanding stretch marks.

Rodney conditioned Colt, rewiring his brain to associating food and sexual pleasure until they became one. The link between food and orgasm strengthened so much Colt got his tiny dick hard when looking at pictures of greasy food or ordering a heart-stopping meal on Grubhub. Colt’s dick leaked pre-cum at the sound of pizza delivery drivers knocking on his door. When Colt was alone, he’d stuff himself to the point of nausea before masturbating. When Rodney came home, he’d force Colt to eat like a pig on all fours while he humped Colton’s expanding ass. Rodney called it Pavlov’s piggy style.

Colt gained weight easily, almost like he was born to blimp up. Rodney quickly noticed, and their terms changed. Instead of gaining one pound per week, the pair decided Colt should be obligated to gain two pounds per week. While Colt held up his bargain, Rodney still created progress photos and videos to leak if he needed to do so. Sometimes Colt wondered if he didn’t meet a goal if Rodney would seriously post his pictures online for his friends and family to gawk at his size. Colt avoided his family because he didn’t know how to handle their potential reactions. Occasionally, he accepted a call from his mother, but he turned down opportunities to attend family gatherings. After all, two years of steady weight gain, he barely recognized the fat man staring back at him in his mirror. Going from approximately 300 pounds to just over 500 was a dramatic jump. His eyes worked up and down, taking in his immense size. How would his parents and siblings react?

Colt found out the following summer when his sister, Alexis, called him. “Please come see mom. She always talks about you and misses you. I’m afraid she’s wondering if you hate her,” Alexis pleaded with Colt. Colt wasn’t happy with the idea, but Rodney became excited and decided they’d attend a family barbecue at the park.

A week later, Colt struggled to walk across the parking lot to Hogan’s Park’s Pavilion, where his family decided to meet. Rodney and Colt started the trip to the area. Colt’s feet pounded against the pavement in the sun. His body immediately sweated, and he grew short of breath. Colt noticed his parents were staring at him from across the lot. They tried to break eye contact. As he got closer, they still didn’t recognize their son thinking two strangers tried to invite themselves to their barbecue. “Just ignore him, and he’ll go away,” Gayle whispered to John.

“He’s still coming this way. The fat bastard wants our food, doesn’t he?” John whispered back while he grilled.

Colt got closer. Gayle glanced at him with disgust before she realized the obese man struggling to walk was her son. “John, that’s Colten.” His parents looked at him with wide eyes.

“It can’t be Colten. He’s too fat to be our boy,” John said in disbelief.

Colt made his way up to the table, gasping for breath. “Hi-huff...mom....h-dad,” he wheezed.

“Colten, it’s been so long,” John yelled from the grill.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” Gayle looked at him with sad eyes.

“Fine. Nee-huff... need to sit,” Colt breathed.

Rodney unpacked Colt’s special camping chair, rated up to 700lbs. Colt finally sat down. His thighs, hips, and ass filled the width of the chair. He spread his legs open to make more room for his pendulum belly to drop downward. “Who is this? One of your friends?” Gayle asked politely.

“This is my,” Colt stopped mid-sentence. He suddenly realized seeing his parents wasn’t a good idea for more than one reason. His parents didn’t know he slept with men and women.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Rodney smiles at Gayle.

Colt found more disappointment in his mother’s eyes, but she tried to be polite. “Oh, I see. Colt has only brought around women. I thought he was engaged to someone. Regardless, it’s nice to meet you,” Gayle quickly walked to the grill to whisper to John. Then, his brother and sister entered the pavilion. Alexis and Ben freeze with their first glance at their brother, but Ben laughed a few seconds later. “This is fucking crazy, bro, how did you let yourself get this fat?” Ben laughed and walked over to poke his brother’s gut. “Mom and dad should’ve spelled your name differently. Colten? More like Col-ton.”

“Stop being a dick,” Colt continues to sweat in the humidity.

His siblings sat down at the table. “Food will be ready soon,” John said with evident distress.

“Thank god. I’m starviiiiiing,” Colt whined.

“Why don’t you snack on some celery or carrots. There’s plenty of vegetables,” Alexis offers.

“I’d rather starve,” Colt lowered his head to the table as his stomach growled.

The group made awkward small talk until John brought over a pile of hotdogs and hamburgers to the table. Gayle uncovered the sides to reveal coleslaw, potato salad, grilled corn, baked beans, a vegetable tray, and a pan of brownies. Everyone takes small helpings and either a hamburger or a hotdog. Colt was the only one to put three hot dogs and two hamburgers on his plate along with mountains of sides. Everyone watches him dig in as they eat slowly. In no time, his plate was almost empty. Every few minutes Colt wiped his greasy hands on his oversized shorts. He practically forgot to chew when he gripped two more hotdogs from the plate.

“Slow down, bro. This is a family barbecue, Colten, not a hot dog eating contest,” Ben laughs.

“You are what you eat, Colt. That’s a lot of pig!” Alexis taunts Colt.

“Alexis!” Gayle exclaimed.

“I’m kidding, mom! Mostly,” Alexis snickered back.

“Your brother has a serious eating disorder,” Gayle told Alexis.

“Colten, your mother and I’ve been talking. You can do whatever you want or be with whoever you want, but damn, I don’t know what to say. You’ve ballooned, son.”

“It’s just a little weight. I’m fine,” Colt retaliated and reached for the tray of brownies.

“My friend’s son is a specialist. I think he is an endocrinologist or something like that. I want you to see him because he treats a wide range of disorders, including diabetes, thyroid diseases, cholesterol disorders, and metabolism issues. Gaining this much weight is not normal. I mean, you can’t really walk,” Gayle looked at her son with concern.

“I said I’m fine,” Colt grunted, shoving a whole brownie in his mouth.

“Colten, you’re not fine! Everyone can see you’re wrecked. We’re concerned. We’re disturbed! You’re huge. You can’t walk or breathe. We’re terrified and want to help you lose weight. You look like you’re going to die soon,” Gayle almost broke into tears.

Colt felt scared and sad for his family. Telling him, he would die should’ve made him feel terrible enough to stop and accept their help. Instead, it turned Colt on, and he lost control. Colt didn’t respond with words. Instead, he took the plate of brownies and shoved brownie after brownie in his mouth, trying to chew and breathe. His family sat back and watched him shove more brownies down his throat with shock until Colt finished the whole pan. “Thanks for the food. I’ll call you later, but I need to get going,” Colt told his family as Rodney made Colt a huge to-go plate.

As soon as the pair found themselves back in the car, Colt couldn’t help but tear into the to-go container. After all, eating less in front of his family made him hungry. Colt didn’t even care for utensils, scooping up potato salad with his bare hands. Rodney grinned, watching Colt make a pig of himself. “Your family is concerned about you. You know that, right?”

Colt blushed in return but continued to bring food to his face. “They are about to disown you for what you’re letting me do to you.”

“D-do you think...” Colt almost climaxed again, “they no-noticed how turned on I was at their comments, fuck, while I ate?” Colt asked before deep throating a hot dog, the vibrator still pulsed in him.

“Oh, Colt. Everyone can see the mental pleasure you get from food, or sex, or me on your face. No worries though, no one could tell you were hard if that’s what you’re asking. Your cock is too small in all that fat pad. It’s buried like a pig in a blanket; a tiny sausage covered in dough,” Rodney teased as they went to several fast food joints on the way home.

Something about the dark side of gaining excited Colt the bigger he became under Rodney’s devious influence. Rodney teased Colt by whispering dark thoughts in his ear. “I will start making a list of all the fast-food joints we’re going to hit after you’re wheeled out of the hospital on a chair collapsing under your weight.” Colt often made comments back to keep Rodney in the mood to destroy his body. “I want you to post snapchats of me at the buffet, binge eating not even an hour after being released from the hospital. I’ll shove pizza and wings in my bloated face with my bare hands. Everyone will notice the hospital bracelet bulging from my thick wrist, destroying the buffet like I’m almost begging to be carted back in a bariatric ambulance any moment.” The pair created videos with playing out the twisted fantasies.

That’s the shit that made them cum multiple times; The thought turned Colt on to no end, but the fun never made it online. Sure, they both found a niche market for death feederism, but the videos only served two functions. First, the video became a threat of punishment for Colt. It provided accountability that Colt gain weight every week to satisfy Rodney. What better way to motivate a rapidly growing obese man than threatening to leak porn of himself acting like a pig to his family and friends? Fortunately, Colt gained every single pound Rodney asked of him. Second, the videos made phenomenal masturbation material for the men. If the porn one craves is so niche, it’s difficult to find, make it yourself.

Colt never thought Rodney would go through with posting the fucked up fantasies they role played in bed. Things changed. Fantasies become realities. Even the sickest fantasies can go too far with too much of a push from someone with bad intentions. Colt became too big to do anything, including stopping his lover, his executioner, from doing whatever he wanted to do to the poor piggish man. At one point, Rodney wasn’t sure how Colt managed to still get up from the bed to go to the bathroom. Sure, the experience provided pain and agony, but the fact he could even do it within 20 minutes pissed Rodney off enough to funnel gainer shake into him non-stop.

Colt forfeited his mobility, his health, and his human dignity for a stranger on the Internet. The greedy glutton played with fire, and he got burned. Colt spent his entire time in bed and eventually lost the ability to leave the comfortable space. Colt should’ve been terrified of losing his mobility, but instead, it excites him. If he reclined, he’d suffocate under blubber. Colt stayed propped up, only able to survive on oxygen. Colt’s belly eventually grew past his knees and spread over the width of the bed. “Smile for your friends and family. I bet mommy is watching! It’s on Live, fat boy. They’re all going to watch your eyes glaze over while your heart explodes,” snickers Rodney.

“P-please don’t! I thought I made the goal you gave me. I’ve made every goal you’ve given me up until this point,” pants Colt, the reality of his situation finally set in his mind.

“Don’t be like that, Colt. Don’t you want to put on a good show for everyone? You said this is what you wanted,” Rodney grinned as he stacked boxes of greasy cheeseburgers on Colt’s belly. Rodney took no time in feeding Colt the burgers on camera. The view count increased with Colt’s friends’ morbidly curiosity in his obese body and showcased kink. Colt ate the first few half a dozen burgers with ease. Suddenly, pain overtook him. He sweats profusely as his arm grew numb.

“My chest, it’s so fucking tight. I don’t know if my heart can handle this much tonight!” Colt chocks on a mouthful of burger. “Rodney, please.”

“No, no, fat boy. That’s not what you call me,” Rodney prepared to shove another burger in Colt’s mouth.

“Daddy! Daddy, please! My chest hurts. No more food!”

“Colt, this is what you wanted all along. There’s no going back now.”

“I don’t want to die anymore! I’m scared and so full, daddy! Help me, daddy!” Colt begged, grabbing his chest in the hope of relieving the pounding sensation.

“I’m not the one who did this, greedy pig. It’s not up to me. You’re the one who willingly let me feed you. I can’t stop the damage you’ve done to your major organs. I’m just here to feed you more and fuck your fat folds.”

Colt’s breathing became as rapid as his heart rate, but it didn’t stop Rodney from cramming another burger in Colt’s mouth. He had no choice but to chew and swallow between breaths trying to make it through the intense pain. If only he could make it out of this alive. Rodney read Colt’s mind. “Everyone is watching. You’re not the first pig, and you won’t be the last. You’ve eaten yourself this big, this unhealthy for your fetish. I know you hope you live, but maybe death would be easier. Then, you won’t have to face the embarrassment in the morning when your mom calls you up disappointed in you after watching the video of you calling me daddy and revealing all your dirty fetishes. That fate is probably worse than dying from a massive coronary.”

People only post good things on social media. They have FOMO, a fear of missing out, and showing their lives are exciting and rewarding online. A fourth of the 264 befriended individuals on Colt’s Facebook watched in horror. No one watched the stream and thought they wanted Colt’s life. If anything, they feared Colt’s life. It inspired fear of morbid obesity, not missing out. Colt got what he thought he wanted. In the end, he found himself with a death feeder who had some kind of magical control over him. Colt also learned the truth. His kinks should’ve only been fantasy because the reality was terrible. When everything is said and done, we all have that, “oh shit, what have I done to myself?” moment. As his eyes went blank, everyone, including Rodney, saw Colt’s fear of morbid obesity.