Buried (Patreon)

Step back up on that scale. Can you make it? Your huge jiggling body is making it harder to keep track of your progress. Good. There’s no going back now. Come on, I know you can make it. Your already out of breath?? Ok fine, take a break. Its literally ten feet from the bed. What a fat shit. Yep, lean against the wall to catch your breath. I’ve made you quite heavy these last few months haven’t I? Feeding you day and night. Rubbing your big fat tank of a gut so it doesn’t hurt to much. Its a lot of work but when I see the numbers slowly climb I just need to see them grow higher and you grow fatter. Are you ready? Ok keep walking. Just put one lardy leg in front of the other. The way your bulging belly sways and slaps your thighs when you walk makes me so excited. Large rolls of fat sagging between your legs, rubbing and wobbling with every step. Come on, almost there. It's a miracle this scale hasn’t broken yet. Now lets see how fat you have gotten. Five ninety three…incredible. let's push that to six hundred. I know you are struggling to get out of bed now because of how big you are getting. I can see how much you love it though. You beg me to feed you more and more every day. Your stomach is stretching out from being stuffed with so much bread and carbs. I love tying your arms and legs down and watching you squirm as I pump you full of calorie filled shakes. Your bloating body vulnerable and open. Cramming food into you non stop is what I live for. Pushing your addiction on you is so easy anymore and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Not until you are completely helpless and reliant on me.

But I had to move you somewhere so I got a little help from a few feeder friends and we set you up in a secluded warehouse. Your body rested upon twenty two king sized mattresses. You weren't quite that big yet but I was determined to feed you until you spilled over them. I had to set up a large vat and funneling system to pour your slop into. I also had to install tubing for the copious amount of waste you produced. That was quite a chore.

After my set up was complete I could tell you were ready for a lifetime of feasting. You were my human scrap bin, eating everything I dumped into you. Turkey leftovers, cake, pie, hamburger, mayonnaise, ice cream, pasta, bacon grease, chicken. You just kept sucking down the slurry of fatty foods like a gross hog would. I pumped so many calories into you I was sure your heart would burst. But your body kept bloating outwards every day. I loved rolling your saggy heavy fat around and slapping it while you ate mindlessly. Lifting up your fat swollen arms and watching them drop to your sides. Wobbling your massive ball off a gut and listening to the distressed sounds of your stomach struggling to digest the slop. You were incredible.

Your massive body kept swelling up bigger and bigger, filling the mattresses underneath your girth. I began to worry how long you could keep eating this much but you never slowed down. Listening to every gulp and gurgle only made me feed you more. I’d make you exercise by forcing you to jiggle your body for me while you could still move. It was hypnotic I and couldn't stop groping all of your fat, jiggling, bags of lard that hung off your sides. Your tits laid on top of your chest sitting sloppily around your burgeoning gut.

It was finally time though. Your body was running out of places to store too much fat. You were growing so huge and you kept swelling up wider, and taller. Large globs of flab had enveloped your limbs completely. Your hands and feet were stuffed full and barely visible as they were sinking into your massive arms and legs. Your skin had red marks where it was getting irritated from being too plump. I had to get a ladder just to climb up to your blubber framed face. Installing a breathing mask was needed since your lungs were essentially being crushed. You were so incredibly obese and still kept filling the room non stop.

Bathing you was an absolute chore. Three hours every day just to keep you from developing rashes and sores. After almost a year of funneling pure fat into you, your hands and feet were completely buried in the bulbous rolls of fat that used to be arms and legs. I couldn’t tell what was spreading out so much. Your poor body was being crushed by your monstrously obese frame. I could press my ear to your tank of a gut and hear the roaring of your stomach turning slop into fats and wastes. A literal feeding machine I made of you. Every now and then I could hear you whine from possibly a belly pain or cramp but there was nothing I could do since all of your limbs were buried under piles and piles of fat.

Then it happened. Your swollen fatty face began to sink into your sea of neck rolls. I could see the hose sticking out of a large pile of lard that used to be your face. You were being sucked into your own sea of obesity. I watched helplessly day in and day out as my sexual addiction was slowly killing you. My desire to watch you fill up the warehouse had taken you to the extreme. Your body pulsed as your skin was stretching far past its limits. I rubbed and squeezed your sickeningly pale mounds of lard and could feel it blowing up underneath my embrace. I stared at your head as your body slowly engulfed you and the feeding tube. Now it was a matter of time before you were basically crushed under your own weight.

Your body was like an ocean of sacks of lard. You looked completely inhuman. I was satisfied with my sick accomplishment. I kept you heavily drugged and turned the pressure up on the funneling machine. I could hear faint moans of a mix of pleasure and pain emanating from where your mouthhole once was. I ached for your body to fill faster and spread to the walls of the small warehouse. I was backed into the wall as a wave of lard began to press into me. I could feel your huge sea of fat pressing on me and pinning me to the wall. I loved it but I began to worry about being smothered and tried to move from your weight. Slowly my body began to be overtaken by your gluttony and I screamed for you to stop. I was really fighting to get out of the pile of blubber you were swelling into but it was useless.

I was pinned into the wall suffocating under your warm, heavy, cellulite riddled mass. I could hear your skin straining to hold everything in as it grew. As I was fighting to breathe in my last moments I listened to the sound of your body bursting from being crushed by the immense weight and compression of being buried under thousands of pounds of uncontrollable gluttony. My poor pig had succumbed to my demise as myself was too, buried alive.