>>4239 oh damn it's been awhile since we've had a really good story on here and this story was amazing is there anywhere else you post stories like this?

Unfortunately no but I do wanna post more especially if people want it

>>4253 well I would love to see more of your work

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Rain paced back and forth in her room. She'd waited all day to try these new weightloss pills. Not cause she was trying to loose weight mind you, you see she had a deep passion. That passion was to blow up and pop like a cheap party balloon. these diet pills were taken off the market cause they caused rapid gas expansion. She bit her lip ring at the thought, rubbing her chubby stomach. Just a little longer than her roommate Ann would be on her way to work and she'd be free to blow. She took stock of her supplies. Vibe, check, weed and snacks, double check, pills, accounted for. She eyed her outfit in the mirror. She wore a elastic black romper that hugged her already round and soft curves, black x-ray thigh highs, and a thick leather belt that sat right over her belly button. Brushing her feathery pink bangs from her face she decided to get ready ahead of time. Gently she slid the toy between her legs. She smoked two quick bowls wanting to calm any last minute jitters, before eagerly popping the pills down her greedy gullet. Ann shouted bye as Rain heard the door click shut behind her, it was time! She quickly moved everything to the living room, giddily putting on the test videos that led her to these pills. Videos of women and men billow outward bigger and larger. Some pop, some don't, all get huge. She turned on the vibrator and began stuffing her face with snack cakes and sweets. The pills took effect and turned the excess food to gas in her stomach. Instantly her belly bubbled out to a thick dome, her flesh tingling as it stretched and grew. She felt her belt tighten as her belly dipped around it like a fluffy muffin. She whimpered taking a fat rip from the bong, her ass and thighs slowly wobbling fatter. Rain awkwardly rubbed her legs in tuned with the vibe, as her socks were forced down by her hammy thighs. Rain couldn't help but groan as the belt began to groan. With a mighty THWACK the belt split down its side, loosing it's battle against the young girls over blown body. She moaned her face flushed as she orgasmed. Still the greedy blimp ate and ate, happily gulping down yummy cakes that only led her towards her inevitably messy end. She cooed as her sleeves constricted her thick biceps, her boobs blowing against the buttons on her romper. With a wet splat a cute twink femboy exploded covering the camera with cum soaked scraps. Rain came again her body going more stiff as her knees and elbows fattened with gas. Even now she could feel her limits. So close yet so far. She needed it the release the test subjects got when they blew she craved it! Now taking up the whole couch putting sumos to shame, she could only listen as the sounds of lustful blimps filled the room. She flapped her hands and feet as she felt the couch slowly drift away. Her cheeks fattened as she developed three chins. The first was her own, her second had gone from slight to massive, and finally her neck thickened into a fat slab the bubbled around her head. She looked like an over inflated balloon of her former self. She drifted away from her weed and snacks desperately trying to eat a few more before she couldn't. Her feet fattened in her newly shortened thigh highs. Toes balling into chunky useless pingpong balls, barely able to wiggle. Her hands and fingers fallowed suit bubbling around her bracelets and rings. Her romper tore of her, leaving her a helpless half baked balloon on the ceiling in her undies and socks. Rain could feel it coming, her body started going numb a heat rising from her core. She groaned fighting to move any part of her former body, but everything was too fat too full only managing to jiggle and strain her quaking flesh. She couldn't stop cumming, her panties were soaked through dripping her lust on the floor. She tried to speak or scream in pleasure, only managing to get muffled moans and burps through her fat lips. Suddenly she heard the door rattle below her. She bobbed on the ceiling in panic, barely able to flip herself on the weather balloons she used to call an ass. She realized there was no way she could hide feeling herself get wedged between the coffee table and ceiling as she became a ten foot blimp. Slowly the door creaked open as Ann stepped in. "Hey so turns out they didn't need me so I got to come home. Wh-whaa..." She chirped before staring at the blimp once called Rain. "H-hey Rainy... Watcha been up too?" Ann asked cautiously poking her roommates puffy skin. Rain tried to answer but only a strained bassy burped fled her lips. A deep gurgle rumbled under her paper thin skin, Ann squeaked pulling her hand back. Rain's eyes darted around the room as she felt her body loosen, barely able to gulp before her skin surged forward. The table was crushed as her ballooned midsection hit the floor. Ann stared wide eyed as the balloon heaved and swelled taking up more and more room. Rain cried out screams fading into burps and farts as her body lost it's fight with the gas filling her. "Well rain I was gonna ask if you wanted food but your clearly full enough as is so I'm just gonna go." Rain watched on misty eyed as her head sunk deeper in the quaking mass. She felt gravid. Her hands and feet felt miles apart. Her fingers and toes spreading wider as they fought for room. A series of deep snaps signaled the end, her body bouncing with each one. The vibrator shot out her clit as her cum turned into a jet of air. Ann tripped screaming as her former roommates body swelled overtop her. "Rain your crushing me! Help helpmph!" She cried as warm flesh filled her vision. "Annie I'm sworry BUWARP I'm gwonna bwow!" Windows were blown out as Rain's blast could be heard for five blocks. The titan of a girl splattered all across the neighborhood hood leaving scraps and mess as far as the eye could see. Ann groaned wiping bits of the once cute girl off her face, before a lone lip ring landed in her forehead. "I should've stayed at work..."

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I wish this was more active

>>1285 How about stories involving fatties stuffing themselves till their tummies ache?

>>4749 and then explode

How would you guys feel about a Wonka weight gain story with chocolate? Male or female? 1st person or third person?

>>4828 I would love that I think a first person male story as long as a ends with a pop I don't mind what is in it

>>4835 [PART ONE] You want some of the chocolate from the river. Wonka said it's off limits, but no one is currently looking. Nervously you gaze down at yourself. What's on you is a latex suit, with a rubber corset of sorts, that shows every curve. If the chocolate is fattening, it will definitely show up. You decide it's worth the risk though, and quickly slurp some chocolate. Deftly, your tongue sweeps around your mouth, and with a wipe from your sleeve, no evidence remains. yet. The group advances through the tour of the candy garden. You cannot stop tasting the chocolate, soft, silent burps keep coming. In fact, you seem full, despite not having eaten that much yet. It's so GOOD. You let yourself daydream about having your mouth stuck to a pipe where chocolate is forced in, until you're a human balloon and pop. The feeling of stretching, latex chafing up against your skin, and rising dough are not figments of your imagination, however. A slow smile appears on your face before *URP* Everyone turns around to look at you. "looks like someone's enjoying the sweets" "you're gonna get so fat haha" "holy shit look he's already bigger, his ass was certainly not this fat" "uhh...I think he's still growing" "no way...just how big is he going to get?" The guests begin to poke and prod. You check on your ass, two orbs stick out. They were right, it definitely was not this fat, and it looked twice as wide. Ever so slightly, it was rising, and the latex in your buttcrack was pulling more and more. The rubber corset grabs your attention, it becoming skinnier, but stretching wider, pinching into your sides. Gradually, love handles are puffing up, the other guests poking this rising dough. Everywhere around you the chafing latex can be felt. Your thighs in particular feel squeezed. A strange arousal was overtaking you, a tingling sensation building down south. You were avoiding looking at your belly when suddenly a cane prodded your soft dome. "You ate some of the river's chocolate, correct?" A sigh came from Wonka. "if you had just told me sooner, this could have been avoided" "what's going to happen to him?" a nervous question came "The chocolate inside of him is replicating itself. The belt can restrain the process, but we'll see if it holds" "What happens if the belt snaps" Silence from Wonka. At this point, you've got to be 300 pounds. You dick is now hardening, and you ballsack feels claustrophobic. So warm a sensation surges through you, fat piling on faster. The taste of chocolate grows stronger, and you burp again. Bingowings the size of pool toys envelop your arm, the suit pinching around the arm pits. The belly in front of you keeps pushing out in every direction, As you feel your ass blowing out behind you. The most god awful pinch is around the waist, however. You're a pear now, The belt skinnier than ever, and bisecting your stomach and ever-bulging love handles. "H-help me" you ask, swaying trying to keep balance. You look back at them, softening cheeks on your face rising from below. Your arms keep coming up, your torso growing so much they stick out at 45 degree angles. More and more the wobbling comes on, eventually destabilizing you to fall backwards. *BWOMPPFFF* You wiggle and wobble, your stomach sloshing around the most. Slowly, an audible deep-sea gurgling emanates deep within you. "alright, Everyone stand back" Wonka says. "The fat's still piling on inside him, but the belt should stop the chocolate now." You are simply forced into an immobile position, and the lust is driving you mad. Your dick isn't just hard now, it's actually growing. More and more pressure fills the squishy folds. The feeling of an overripe tomato comes to mind. This arouses you to no end, and your phallic organ is shooting up, until it hits the belt You wake shortly from your stupor. It seems the tip of the organ had slipped under the belt of your belly. It pulled and pulled, until finally...*SNAP*

>>4842 oh I love it wish that was me

>>4842 [PART TWO] With a deep thunder and a following leather stretching sound, You ballooned at once. wobbles turning to tremors across the gelatinous bulb called your stomach. Though you could not see it, you could feel it, the bottom half of your fupa folding in on itself vertically, as your navel continued to stretch and deepen. You feel strangely compressed, but afloat, the multitude of flabs pushing on you from every angle. Every part of your body was swelling, your flanks, your dome tummy, you asscheeks widening and hoisting you aloft, backfat starting to nestle your cranium, and your arms getting trabbed in squishy tubes. The sensation information overload, the sugar rush, the chocolate, was a psychedelic blast. You surged past the size of a large van, your grip on realiting slipping. But what really caught people's attention was your-- "HOLY SHIT HIS DICK IS HUGE" "ITS LIKE A PYTHON" "i dont think all that quivering is from his fat wobble" Wonka sighed. "Chocolate is an aphrodisiac. Stop ogling get behind the blast shield." Blast shield? was there going to be a blast? Your brain was confused, but ultimately dropped it. The massages, the compression on your ballsack, two beachballs of their own, buried in shifting flab, were distracting you. Your pressured buttnut added its own cocktail of adrenaline, and ultimately culminating in an electric storm along your rubbed shaft. But the release did not come. The fat, however, did keep coming. You were unsure of just how big you were, or how much time has passed, exactly. Your brain only became more hyper aware of your fattening body conscience, gaining ecstasy and impossible libido. The gurgling sound, the stretching, were only becoming more violent, and you started to feel a bit tight around your love handles. You would have guessed they're the size of a room now, if you could have thought clearly. Suddenly the cold press of metal met your stomach, and an oncoming bumpy metal surface. The growing, sloshing dome had hit the ceiling, and was flattening against it. Metal groans cried from the ceiling. "This is bad" Wonka said " Why hasn't he popped yet?" "I wouldn't know, I've never had someone this big before" "he's getting pretty big, we should find a way out" "uhh...where?" The wall of flab, individual bulging rolls, surged towards them. You feel a soft crunching sensation on your right, before it hits another metal surface. Soon after the left side meets the wall, and you're feeling terribly tight. Structural integrity whines, groans, and finally fails, belaying the tight feeling, for but a moment. You were hyper ventilating with horniness, you were the size of a warehouse. The tightening feeling returned, the more bulging your stomach did, the odd stretching pinch came. You were going to pop! That did it. Finally, your great oak sized penis shotgunned cum, The pressure on your ballsack released, and a fountain of sticky white goo was running down the rest of your flab. Sentient thought was lost. just the words BIGGER BIGGER BIGGER over and over. The painful pinch of stretches were appearing everywhere now. Your ass was too fat. Your lovehandles felt impossibly pulled. Your back, your cheeks, your neck, but your tummy was the worst. The cumming kept coming, harder and harder, and then building the hardest shot of your life, only releasing when-- A large bomb noise was heard, buildings flattening under beige offal, squishy fluff, and your soul gone from this mortal plane.

>>4842 Hey do you have a writing account for more stuff? Or did you just write this, cause I want to see more of your stuff regardless.

>>4872 I could make a DA account in the future, next stories could be just weight gain themed in general. Want to write a more lighthearted warhammer story about a slaaneshi cultist battling other demons and imperial guard.

for some reason i wanna see a blueberry bursting POV where the reader is also wearing a blue tracksuit like in the 2005 willy wonka

"I wouldn't do that, I really wouldn't..." Mrs.Wonka warned sounding half asleep. She sat examining her black painted nails, her dark purple blazer barely covered her heavy chest and was offset by a black pleated leather skirt, her tights ripped and worn from her extra wide hips and thighs, as a velvet black hat sat upon her aburn hair. She toyed with the goggles round her neck as another drowsy warning flowed from her plump black lips. "Please the gum isn't really ready yet. The dessert..." "I bet it's to die for!" You quickly interrupt Wonka as you shove the thick blue square In your mouth. Loudly smacking away in your bright blue sweat suit. "That's exactly what I'm worried about... Oh well enjoy it while it lasts." Wonka lazily states as the rest of the tour badger you on how the gum is. "So what's it like, it tasty?" The resident stoner chimed in. You barely caught his name but your pretty sure it was Leo. "I want some!" some bubblegum pink influencer cried. You hadn't learned her name only calling her princess. "Are you sure this is a good idea dude?" Asked a shy blue haired girl. Her name was Charlie and she had an ass nearly as big as Wonka's. You've tried your best not to leer at them both but you've frequently failed. luckily they're none the wiser. "Why worry it's just gum." You mutter between smacks. Your already feeling kinda full by the time dessert kicks in, coming far quicker than you were expecting. A throaty moan escapes your soft lips as Leo gets a weird look on his face. "Uh am I just really high or is there nose turning blue?" He asks deeply concerned. "On second thought I don't want some." Princess says looking disgusted "No they're turning blue... Your whole body is violet!" Charlie cries. "Tried to warn you. Terrible fate really no matter what I do I can't get the blueberry pie filling to stop!" Wonka taps her foot annoyed at the thought. "What's happening?!?" You practically slurr from how much pulp and juice is in your mouth. "Your turning into a blueberry I'm afraid... Oh my your were already rather plump too this is going to get dreadfully messy." Wonka states suddenly sounding half asleep again. A sudden gurgle draws you back to your now wider midsection. You stare wide eyed still chomping away as you paw at your growing midsection. A fullness washes over your whole body as your tracksuit grows thinner around your thickening thighs and now bulbus ass. Another moan leaves you as you loudly gulp another piece of pie. "Ewww they're getting so fat!" Princess squeals. "Well several tons of pie will do that to you..." Wonka states twirling her hair in her own little world. "Someone do something! Call a doctor!" Charlie cries. "I know! Stick them with a pin!" Leo says clearly way too proud of his idea, before charlie chides hom down to size. "They'd pop dude!" "Oh it's already much too late to avoid that my lovelies" wonka flatly says glancing at you. "As stated the gum doesn't stop producing that delicious filling I'm afraid our blue friend here is on their way to a very bombastic end." "What!?!?!" You cry suddenly feeling infinitely more volatile. You wave your blubbery arms as your stomachs drops beneath the band of your sweatshirt. Chest now ballooned to be fatter then Wonka, the same goes for your rear. Fat blue cheeks rise like the sun from their elastic prisons. You try to look as they grow but wind up having to throw your arms forward so you don't tip like a cow. Your calves feel like sausages in your clothes as do your arms as movement becomes difficult without ripping free of your modesty. To them you probably look like the world's fattest sumo, but you only felt like a ticking bomb as a tight pulling sensation radiates from your belly button. "Wowsers they've gotten so big" Leo states poking your swaying paunch. You wince out a loud fearful moan as your body surges larger after he removes his finger. "Wonka if they're really gonna explode, I'm gonna need a poncho this dress is Gucci and there's no way I'm gonna ruin it by some fatso splattering me with their insides!" Princess howls constantly flicking her eyes back at you as if to check your progress. "My what a lovely girl. Not to worry the loompas are on their way..." Wonka states sounding very strained and annoyed. Charlie has been pacing around you gently rubbing and cupping various bulbs of blue stained fat. Occasionally letting a giggle escape when people weren't looking. Her touch was oddly soothing even if her glee at watching you swell akin some tick wasn't. Your libs were now super full and stubby, your thighs were little more than round bands softly drooping down your thigh thick calves, which in turn were oozing across your quickly swelling feet. Your arms were in a similar predicament, as your hands filled like doctors gloves. Another giggle escaped Charlie as your laces snapped on your Converse, feet far too swollen to keep them tied. "Jeez she's not gonna last much longer guys." Leo whined sounding rather afraid of your tightening middle. "Yeah poor baby feels ready to POP!" Charlie said sounding deeply concerned though the pinch she gave your ass told you otherwise. Wonka lazily watched, as your tracksuit started to split a clear sign of what's to come. You whimper as you gulp more pie, your unsure if the gums even in your mouth at this point as your mouth is simply too full of the delicious flavoring. The stretching feeling from your belly button now spreads cross your entire ball of a body. You whimper as your feet lift off solid ground your crotch pressing hard against the cold floor. A kinda painful growing pressure rises in your nipples before juice starts to trickle out of them too. In fact juice was leaking from you lips and belly button as well. The pulp felt like ice on your agitated skin, but you feel like a shiver would be enough to split your hide. The loompas appear in red vinyl hazmat suits which hug their curvy figures. Wonka and the tour watch in excitement as they surround your tightening body. The head loompa was covered with face piercings and had swoopy bangs. She approached Wonka for orders. "Sorry we're late boss. Things didn't go great with that German kid, been decontaminating the river ever since" she mimicked an explotion with her hands. "Ah Looma just in the nic of time! I was worried we'd be on our own... Now could you please try and roll this berry to the bursting room please. I'm afraid they may detonate before you get there so please stick to the scenic route as to avoid any of the machines getting damaged." Wonka then turned toward the group, giving you a delicious look at her plump soft ass. You swear you could feel yourself growing faster while you looked. "Alright kiddos sorry to cut this short but we should probably get going unless we want to share their fate so..." "Aww but I wanna see the fatty go boom! It's the least they deserve for blowing themselves up and disgusting me like that!" Princess cried stomping her feet. "Yeah it uhm feels wrong to leave them ya know..." Charlie says clearly looking for an excuse. "I dunno guys..." Leo hesitantly states watching the loompas work. "Alright fine we'll stay till the roll her out of here." Wonka sighs exhausted. Looma approached as the rest of the loompas very carefully ran a tape measure along you side. Looma herself took a small probe and poked your over packed side. With a loud beep she called to the loompas. "Alright girls! No time for a song their already splitting as we speak." You began to cry as you realize with utter horror your too fat for their ten foot measure. The tightness runs through your entire body as you swell eight feet tall. You try in vein to kick the water balloons breaking out of your shoes or flap your over pumped hand but you can hardly even manage to wiggle your fingers or toes. Causing violent creaks to billow from your body. Looma takes stock of your size an looks at the small double doors you came through grimacing. "Alright too late to roll them ladies get the shields up and find cover FAST!" You can't stop moaning your voice sending shockwaves through your own body. Your face fattens into an unrecognizable blob, as your tattered tracksuit stains a dark violet from your sweat. Your panting your body won't stop making ominous creaks and groans. The loompas have put clear plastic walls around four sides of you. The tour watches horrified except Charlie who smiles and waits patiently for your big finish. A sudden pang of relief hits what was ounce your thigh, then your ass as a familiar cold fluid dribbles from these new stretch marks. They begin rapidly appearing across your whole body some even sprouting from you apple sized cheeks. You feel it coming. That final release. It inches so close yet feels miles away. Your body pushes against the shields as several pops are heard across your body gaining in pitch. Juice runs from your torn shoe and a few fingers, your body suddenly feels ice cold, the pie is stronger than ever, as you spit up juice and cum huge wads of juice and pulps all over the floor. Your voice sounds impossibly deep and gutteral as you call one last time for release, barley catching Charlie and Wonka wave good bye. Wonka in her apathetic demeanor, with Charlie much more giddy and almost lustful as she bites her lip. "MMMMMPPHUMPHMOOOOOOOOPH!"

*BOOSH BAM SPLAT SQUELCH* You cum again before your body hits thirteen feet and promptly explodes. The sensation almost akin to belly flopping from a cliff after the best orgasm of your life. The shields toppple over as juice pulp and foam coat nearly the whole room. Everyone but Looma and Wonka get swept in the flood, as your scraps have their way with the rooms. Everyone slowly stands up the loompas frantically checking their suits for leaks. "O my god they really burst!... It's like a bomb went off in here" Leo says wiping some pulp from his mouth. "Ewww! Ewww! Ew!" Princess wails while wiping slop from her Gucci. "Uh oh... Mrs. Wonka I don't feel so good." Charlie softly says as her fat thigh turns a deep shade of blue. "Goddammit. Get the janitors here stat. Tell them their about to get over time." Wonka groans rubbing her temples. She stares at the three remaining guests as they too fatten and swell. An oversized tatterd tracksuit, shoes, their rapidly growing bodies, and a soaked swollen wad of gum the only sign you were there.

>>5285 >>5286 holy shit......that was amazing!

>>4817 Figuratively, no bursting, either.

>>5306 Or, just looking like they will explode, that's all.

https://www.deviantart.com/vinvilllian/art/Beckoning-to-a-Butterball-WG-Vore-Bursting-938090073

>>1285 General burst thread or should we seperate fat from inflation?

I vote general burst if it keeps the thread alive

https://www.deviantart.com/sourwaffleprincess/art/Diplomatic-Hospitality-Part-1-949870717 https://www.deviantart.com/sourwaffleprincess/art/Diplomatic-Hospitality-Part-2-949884295

Corngammer11 has a couple of stories with bursting. https://www.deviantart.com/corngamer11/art/Massive-by-Moonlight-3-3-STUFFING-WG-BURSTING-984567499

https://www.deviantart.com/brasbydesign had quite a few short stories that often end up with implied exploding. I knew they did "seasonal stuffings" years ago but was surprised to find more recent stuff

Anyone know the name of the story Im talking about? Its a madoka magica story that involves, hyper, imminent bursting/bursting against Madoka, Sayaka and Mami by force feeding them pastry filling. This force feeding is at an intensity that pushes them to the point that their skin becomes translucent and detaches their bones inside themselves from being stretched so far, all while they fill up the space of a building-sized pie tray at the will of the antagonist who is later Revenge killed by Homura after finding out what happens to her friend's

Not a lost story a lost author. If you're familiar with the name and story, would you also know if their pixiv or twitter is still open? https://gofile.io/d/PZauD7

Requesting Hilda unable to shake an intrusive thought give in go to a gas station take the tireflator stick it up her butt and inflate her belly - and the bad end's optional and if you do make it an alternate ending please.

https://www.deviantart.com/secret-fetish/art/Henrietta-feeds-the-Foxgirl-Popping-1195909649

https://gofile.io/d/tWHZfL

https://www.deviantart.com/debulbous/art/Ann-Extra-Juicy-Slice-1253819712 Couldn't find enough stories that fit this extreme niche, so thought I'd write one myself (and more in the future). Let me know what you think.

Interview: The Making of Matilda - Part 1 April 17 “I hate… to admit… it… to myself… but I’ve… given up… on… them… giving…up…” Matilda’s voice was little more than a quiet whisper, continually punctuated with strained, breathless gasps for air. To make things even more difficult, it was enough of a challenge just to get close to her. Well, in truth, getting close to her body wasn’t the problem, but the enormity of the rolls and mounds of fat that surrounded and buried her modest frame made getting close enough for conversation quite the test. Eventually, I was rigged up with a cherry-picker - a platform on a hydraulic arm - that could put me in polite talking distance with, quite possibly, the heaviest woman I had interviewed to date. Perched atop the platform, on a functional but comfortable seat, I felt akin to a mediaeval guard in a watchtower, surveying the rolling landscape of a dangerously over-engorged body. As my self-consciousness abated, however, I was met with a surprisingly warm and friendly smile from Matilda. As a young woman pushed well beyond her limits, I was keen to hear her story… “Whatever my destiny is, there’s little I can do to change it now. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would end up like… like this. What am I supposed to do though? They treat me more like a balloon than a real person, feeding and fattening me around the clock until… until what? Just how huge do they expect me to get? I’m not sure I can take much more!” I hate to admit it to myself, but I’ve given up on them giving up. I’m sure they know that, too. ‘More is good’, that is all they keep telling you whenever you question them or try to protest, and after a while, you start to believe it. After all, at this size, what else can I do? Being greedy was always in my nature, even as a kid, and it’s a trait they definitely took advantage of when I first volunteered for this program just a few years ago. Actually, I volunteered for a program being conducted at a private research clinic local to my home town, but I have a feeling they are simply a front used by the government, to wheedle out suitable test subjects for things like… like this. Maybe I’m being a conspiracy theorist, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things. Think about it, it’s not impossible, that’s all I’m saying. The initial trial by the private clinic was, well, a piece of cake, pretty much. I was given a diet to follow, a booklet to fill in with my progress, and each week for six weeks I would be required to check back in at the clinic to be weighed and measured, that kind of thing. I knew that the goal was to gain weight in some capacity, but at five foot six and around two-hundred pounds back then, I wasn’t too bothered about a little more. With regards to the ‘diet’ I was given to follow, well, it was pretty much an ‘eat what you want’ kind of deal, but I guess the research element of it took away a lot of the guilt people get from eating whatever they want, you know? You just had to write down what you ate, and when, in the little booklet they gave you. They even paid - about two hundred bucks a week - although you would only get it on satisfactory completion of the trial, of course. I was out of work at the time, and so the extra cash was a much needed bonus. By the end of the six week trial, I think I’d gained at least fifteen pounds! The research clinic seemed so impressed with my results, that they asked me if I was interested in doing another? I recall having mixed feelings, I’m sure, however it felt incredible just eating what I wanted, when I wanted, almost guilt free! Reasoning that I’d lose the weight after the next one, I signed up again. The second trial lasted another six weeks, and actually overlapped my 20th birthday. I vividly remember having to go clothes shopping in a hurry before my birthday night out, because all my ‘nice’ outfits were becoming noticeably too tight - that’s if they would fasten at all. My friends bought me a beautiful, big cake, and I took at least half of that home with me. I also bought myself a large sheet cake, just because I could, and proceeded to tackle it over the course of the next few days too. It was greedy, sure, but it was supposed to be for science, right? That was at least another twenty pounds by the time that the second trial came to an end. Once that one ended, that was it - I was paid, as promised - then went back to job hunting, albeit almost forty pounds heavier! It was a few days later, and as luck would have it, I was sitting, anxiously staring at my ‘phone, waiting for a callback for a job interview, when it rang. When I answered it nervously, it wasn’t the hiring manager if expected, but instead someone from another research department - a government attached one. They were reluctant to give too much away, but they stated that they had been analysing my data from the recent trials, and wondered if I would be interested in taking part in further, more in-depth research. Naturally, I expressed my concerns; I had already gained quite a bit of weight, and I was also struggling to kick some of the bad, indulgent habits that I’d picked up over the past few months. I had been chubby and plump throughout most of my teens, but I was beginning to feel ‘big’ - even my friends and family had begun noticing my recent gains - and I wasn’t sure how to process that. Part of me, I must admit, got a bit of thrill from seeing their reactions to my increased size. The other part of me, however, worried that if the floodgates were removed for too long, then there would be no turning back. I said I’d let them know. That hiring manager, the one for that job interview, never rang back. I hate when they do that. He wasn’t the first, either. Mood wise, I was beginning to feel super-low - rejected, bored and useless. I hated job hunting. Then, as I sat on the couch, scraping the hollowed out tub of ice-cream with a spoon for its last half-melted morsels, I just thought, ‘What have you got to lose?’ Indeed, it seemed better than sitting around waiting for no-hopers to call me all day and getting fat anyway. And, I reasoned to myself, if I didn’t like it, I could just quit, right? It sounds stupid in hindsight, I know, but there was just no way of knowing back then. When I called the department back, they were thrilled - actually thrilled! They wanted me! The assistant on the phone informed me it was a more formal trial, but I would be provided with accommodation and, of course, financially reimbursed for taking part. I was told to pack a bag for a week’s stay, but informed it may be a little longer if things went ‘well’. Oh boy, did things go well. So that was that; I packed my bags, said a few farewells, and left on the pretence that I was taking a much needed vacation. I suppose you could call it a working holiday, in some ways

On the day I was expected to start the trial, they even sent a car to pick me up. A nice car! It was an early pickup - around 5am if I remember correctly - yet the driver was enthusiastic, friendly and chatted away for much of the long drive. I often wonder if that early start was, in fact, deliberate, as part way through the journey I fell asleep, and only woke up when we reached the facility gates. To put it simply; I know where I am, I’m just not sure how I got here. Perhaps I am just being paranoid, but either way, it doesn’t really seem to matter anymore. I’m not exactly about to get up and leave, am I? In preparation for my fake-cation, I had downloaded loads of nice looking holiday snapshots to upload to my social media accounts, and message people I knew with over the next week or so. I hadn’t told a soul that I was essentially getting paid to gain weight, even if it was for science. So, I had a story figured out in my head, ready. In the end though, it didn’t really matter, as I was required to surrender my phone for the week. In truth, what with all the fruitless job hunting, a week without my phone sounded like bliss, and I willingly handed it over. To this day, it is probably stuck in a locker somewhere! I was given the rest of the day to settle into my new digs, which were really nice. It was an actual suite, with a huge, plush bed, lounge area, its own small but fully stocked kitchenette and a generous bathroom with a big, sunken bathtub in the middle. This was far nicer than any hotel I could have hoped to stay in, that is, if I was actually going on holiday! It was hard not to be impressed, and I had to admit, it sure beat starting at any of the other crummy jobs I’d been applying for. Then came the briefing, and it was pretty simple: Finishing a meal would mean that I was entitled to also have afters - either another helping, or dessert, as well as snacks and treats before the next main meal. However, failing to finish a meal meant, as they phrased it, ‘withdrawal of edible privileges’ until the next main meal. I was told to do with that information as I wished, and that I would be weighed and measured at the end of the week. Well, despite some initial hesitation, it didn’t take long for my greed to kick in, and it kicked hard. Just the thought of being denied an extra helping that I was entitled to immediately pushed my buttons, and I knew it did. It pissed me off. There was some reasoning, too; I was only supposed to be at the facility for a week or so, and with that in mind I decided to make the most out of not only the well-appointed apartment, but also the incredibly delicious food…” At that moment, I began to feel the platform on which I was standing begin to slowly retract, and I could do little except give Matilda a pleasant, if slightly awkward smile. She smiled back - she seemed used to this. When the basket reached the ground, I was politely ushered out and a slim, befreckled nurse took my place, taking with her the end of a long, soft hose that undoubtedly connected to the impressive pair of nearby feeding pumps. From ground height, it was almost impossible to see Matilda’s head. In fact, even her hands were barely visible amongst the mounds, and even the tips of her toes struggled to be seen, as her feet threatened to disappear into the ever deepening swells of her over-fattened legs. Another nurse - small, plump and soft cheeked - appeared beside me, “I hope you don’t mind, but you can continue your interview in a little while. Matilda is an ongoing subject of ours, you see, and she needs to be fed. I’m sure you understand.” “Needs?” I questioned, but the nurse didn’t bite. Instead, she continued about her duties, busily checking her tablet computer. For a few moments I mused in my head about the sheer insanity of a girl like Matilda needing to be fed anything else, ever. There must be a point when enough is enough, but clearly they weren’t there yet. The steady, pulsing hum of the feeding pump coming to life brought me out of my thoughts, and I watched as the feeding hose wriggled and stiffened its way along the side of the huge bed, and up and across the vast, bulging body to its feedee. There were faint moans, and gentle ripples in the monstrous flanks of supple flesh. Then, everything calmed and settled. Matilda’s offhand comment about being treated like a balloon didn’t seem that far from the truth, in a way. Yet another nurse approached, this time pushing a sturdy trolley, laden with buckets of soapy water and an assortment of cleaning equipment, from sponges and towels, to cleansers and moisturisers. “You must be the interviewer, right?” the pale, slender nurse ventured, “and let me guess, they told you she’d be a little while?” I nodded dumbly. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Come with me, I’ll find you somewhere to get a strong coffee and a bite to eat…”

April 17 “One… week… turned… into… three… then four…” Matilda wearily gasped, cheeks flushed and brow still glistening from her continuous five hour feeding session. She was exhausted, but still seemed eager to talk - perhaps relishing the company of a new face, or someone who would actually listen without a biased ear. “I couldn’t help it, I really couldn’t; the nice accommodation, that incredible food, and all I had to do was just have a good time and eat. Heck, I was supposedly getting paid, so even my money worries melted away. The only thing I had to worry about really was, well, my weight, but without the critical gaze of my friends and family, that too seemed like something I could deal with at another time. That was future Matilda’s problem, y’know? Week by week, I was pretty sure that the portions were subtly beginning to increase, but it was hard to be sure. I guess it was a test of sorts, and greedily I would continue to indulge myself, just to unlock the next course. Whatever they were trying to test, I’m pretty sure I passed, whether I liked it or not! I just couldn’t help myself. Even with the nice apartment and friendly staff, homesickness was beginning to gnaw at me. I’d been away, and out of contact, for four weeks at that point, and I just wanted to let everyone know I was okay. However, I had also gained at least another twenty pounds in just one month, and I was getting ever more anxious about returning home. Everybody expects you to put a few pounds on during a vacation - but not that much! My phone was still surrendered, but I was allowed to make a few calls using the department’s landlines - although, due to the ‘secrecy of the project’ I wasn’t allowed to say what I was doing - although I’m not sure I realistically would have done. The calls were monitored, and they threatened to null any pay I had accrued if I did - although, again, that doesn’t seem to matter now, it was a very real threat back then. I was still technically out of work, and as far as I was aware didn’t believe these trials were such a permanent solution! That was the last time I spoke to my family, as far as I can remember. I miss them dearly, but I wouldn’t want them to see my like… like this. My mother disliked me being chubby, so I dread to think of her reaction to me being this big. I’d rather she didn’t know if I’m honest. Thankfully, the staff at the department are incredibly friendly, and I made friends here from the get-go, pretty much. There was always someone to talk to, or hang out with, or have food with. After a while, I didn’t even miss my phone that much. Having plenty of people around and things to talk about beat doom-scrolling, alone in my room, any day. So, when given the option to continue, I did - even though it meant signing up for a minimum of three months. As far as my family were concerned, I was working away - which wasn’t a complete lie - and well, I’d have to worry about the extra weight when the time came to leave. Besides, I reassured myself, how much weight could I really gain in just three months? It turned out to be quite a bit, actually. However, three months seemed a long way off, and that greed that I tried so desperately to suppress, just took over. I felt like a dog let off of its leash, and I began to indulge just for the sake of it. With it came gushing praise from the nurses, many of whom I began considering friends, and they would encourage my overeating and commend me on my results - which were for science, of course! The weeks just rolled by in a blur, and with it my waistline ballooned. I’d been so lost in my new little world, I had lost track of time, and now that three month extension was almost up, and I was seventy-five pounds heavier. None of the clothes I had arrived in still fit me, so I was relying on the soft, loose clothing that the department provided. I just couldn’t go home looking like that, and at over 330 pounds, I really didn’t want to face my family, or friends! So, I begged. I actually begged to stay, and do another extension, or some other testing - anything that would buy me some time to lose at least a little bit of the extra weight. They told me I didn’t qualify for any other tests, ironically due to my obesity levels, and they had nothing short term, but they did have a one year extended trial they ‘needed’ to start, and that I would be perfect.

I didn’t hesitate, however, I vowed to regain some control and try to get back to a state that I felt comfortable returning home in. To my shame, two, maybe three days is what I managed to last, before I crumbled and gave in, glutting myself and, quite honestly, enjoying it. A year was also a long time! With a year stretching out before me, I began saying yes to everything, I just couldn’t contain myself. It was all so good, so delicious, and with encouragement and positivity from my nurse friends, I found myself eating to please both myself and them. Soon, mealtimes went from being something that fitted around other activities, to actually becoming the activity, and I found myself eagerly waiting for whatever treat came next. In the first six months I managed to crest 500 pounds - I felt enormous. None of my own clothes came close to fitting anymore. I began to waddle, and to get out of breath easily. The task of trying to lose a few pounds had risen to now trying to lose a few hundred, and I just couldn’t see how that was going to happen. Not here. I had to accept that I was here for the long run, and so I decided to just make the most of it, and let myself go. After all, just how fat could they actually want me to get, right? I have asked that question to myself many times over during my stay, and I still don’t have an answer. I just keep on getting fatter, growing bigger and bigger, heavier and heavier, and somehow it is never quite enough. At the end of that year, I was beginning to wish that I had exercised at least some self control. Weighing in at around 700 pounds, give or take, I’d been burying my fears under a constant barrage of self-indulgence, and it showed. You get to a point where you’re so fat, so big, that each individual pound doesn’t seem to make a difference. The only way I could tell my weight was really soaring, was as my mobility started to dwindle. Walking any sort of distance was exhausting, and even standing began taking some serious effort. I began to enjoy staying in bed. Even back then I could see that this was becoming a very slippery slope, but what could I do, really? By the time the trial ended, I think I weighed just over 730 pounds. I say think because it didn’t really end. Things just seemed to carry on, and with it they gained momentum. That’s the first time I remember seeing a feeding machine…” Once again, I began to feel the platform below me start to retract, and a gentle hubbub of activity took place around Matilda’s massive body. As the basket reached the ground, another nurse took my place, once again carrying the hose of the feeding pump. “Another feeding so soon?” I questioned. The slight, five-foot-nothing brunette nurse smiled with a tilt of her head, “Matilda is on a light schedule today, due to your visit.” “Light?!” I spluttered. “Sure. Every other day she’s hooked up to the machine pretty much none-stop…” Before I could decide upon any one of the dozens of follow up questions running through my mind, the nurse gradually began to move away on the platform, and focus on attending to her gigantic feedee. I knew my place this time. Smiling politely and nodding in recognition as I passed various members of staff going about their duties. My visit so far had been comparatively brief, but already I felt as though I were an old hand in this department. With the now almost familiar sound of the feeding pump whirring to life in the background, I once again made my way back to the canteen for more coffee and contemplation, eager to learn about the next step in Matilda’s journey…

“Where… were… we?” Matilda gasped as she recovered wearily from another lengthy feeding, “Oh yes… the feeding… machine…” “I do miss solid foods. I still get them as a treat, as a reward, if I gain enough, but I wish I could have them more often. Most of my intake comes from the machines - thick, creamy, delicious milkshakes…” Matilda swallowed hard. “I know that they’re ridiculously fattening, and filled with additives and supplements that, well, have enabled me to get this huge in the first place. It’s a vicious circle. They’re so delicious, so satisfying that I actually start to crave them if I go long enough without - I actually start getting withdrawal symptoms. I’m hooked, helplessly addicted. I still miss real food, though.” At that moment I remembered that, tucked in my battered reporter’s satchel, I still had half of a flapjack bar from my second visit to the canteen. Cautiously checking my peripheral vision, I slowly reached for it, pulling it out and holding it in Matilda’s line of sight. I smiled, “Treat? It’s not much but…” “Please… yes, please…” I was surprised at Matilda’s urgency. She looked uncomfortably full from her very recent feeding, glutted even. Yet despite her predicament, she showed little hesitancy. I broke off a piece of flapjack, and as subtly as I could, offered it toward Matilda’s plump, expectant lips. There was a brief moment of hesitation, and then she pecked her head forward and bit hungrily, as though she hadn’t eaten for a week. She chewed for only moments, before swallowing hard with a satisfied, airless sigh. “More?” I ventured. “… More…” As she eagerly devoured the penultimate piece of flapjack, I couldn’t help but agree with Matilda’s sentiment; she was hooked, and helplessly so. She knew what was happening to her, she knew that she was too big, but she just couldn’t stop. She’d just been stuffed, and the remainder of this flapjack wasn’t even part of her mandatory intake, and yet, she could no longer help herself. Matilda briefly heaved for breath, then tentatively whispered. “… More…” As I offered the final piece towards her crumb-lined mouth, I could hear Matilda’s belly give a deep, guttural rumble. About to bite, she paused momentarily and swallowed hard. Her large, beautiful, cow-like eyes looked up at me, before she gently bit into the remaining piece. This time, she took a while to chew, before swallowing with what seemed like caution. Other than her heavy, laboured breathing, we both paused in silence, seemingly waiting for something, but I wasn’t sure what. There were a few further deep grumbles emanating from within Matilda’s over-fattened figure, and then things seemed to settle down. “Sorry… yes… the feeding… machine…” Matilda finally continued, “I can’t… say… I was… a fan… to begin… with… In fact, if I’m being totally honest, I found it a bit horrifying. I was already struggling with mobility to some degree, and my goal, at least, wasn’t to actively speed that issue up. However, the cards on the table were pretty limited. I could go home, but the shame of letting myself get like this, and the reality that my own parents would probably have to help look after me like a big, fat baby until I managed to lose a significant amount of the weight. I just couldn’t swallow my pride on that one, I was still super self-conscious about how big I’d become. So, I guess, the only other option was to enrol for further research, but the feeding pump would be necessary, so I was told. Talk about a rock and a hard place - either go home and be ridiculed as the fattest girl in town, or stay and concede to potentially being fattened further, by a machine! Well, you know the choice I made. I did try though; I refused the machine at first, I begged for a more steady, traditional method. To my surprise, they actually agreed.

I’d tried the milkshakes here before. They were usually a treat, or an accompanying drink with another meal. They were nowhere near as thick as the ones I get fed now, however they were still irresistibly delicious. Soon, they went from a treat, to a staple of my diet, served with every meal, and in-between. I wasn’t going to complain, they were one of my favourite things to guzzle down. The serving sizes grew from a modest glass full, to a half-gallon cup with a nice long straw, so I could place it to one side whilst gaming or reading, and just sip away. Needless to say, I swelled beyond 800 pounds in no time at all. Machine or no machine, I began to get really heavy. That extra sixty to seventy pounds was a lot for my modest frame, and hit my mobility hard. I was by no means stuck, not yet, though it took me from barely independent, to dependent. My hope of walking out of here, free and easy at some point, began to wane with my manoeuvrability. Some time shortly after, perhaps within another fifty pounds or so, I began to give up and face what was happening to me. Jade, a nurse I was, and still am great friends with, put it to me this way, ‘You can either get fat and be upset about it, or you can get fat and enjoy the ride.’ That stuck with me. If I had to keep gaining weight, I might as well enjoy it, right? I don’t resent Jade’s advice, no. She was right. With that, I began to enjoy the process much, much more. I relaxed, I gave in, I let my walls come down. Whatever I was being fattened for, was for science after all. That gave me purpose, and the thought of sitting at home, alone, waiting for callbacks made me begin appreciating that here I was the very centre of attention, and surrounded by friendly faces. So, then I tried the feeding machine. It wasn’t as big or intimidating as the pump I use now, but I was still wary of a machine that was designed to effectively keep me very full. I love food, and I adore eating, but I was also very fond of those milkshakes. The pump I was first presented with was quite modest, by comparison; it had a gallon hopper on top, and sat on a small trolley that could be parked alongside me, usually by my bed. Getting used to it took a little while, but once you get the hang of it, it’s all about rhythm. It ‘pulses’ mixture into your mouth, giving a brief pause for you to swallow, and of course breath! It was similar enough to my recent intake of milkshakes, except instead of sucking it through a straw manually, this machine would do it for me, constantly, and like clockwork. There’s a sensor on the feeding tube that picks up on a chemical signal in the saliva that changes when I’m full, or something, and shuts the machine off for a little while until I’m… well, my stomach is ready for more. There were a few initial milkshake-through-the-nose moments, but after a fair bit of use, I began to get the hang of it. At first it was used alongside my main meals, as a way to keep me full in-between, but as time passed, it has gradually become the only way I’m fed, save for the occasional treat. I had two-dozen amazing, cream-filled doughnuts yesterday and, oh golly, they were divine! I’m not sure what the treat was for, but anyway… As my use of the pump, and my intake increased, predictably so too did my weight. Within six weeks or so, I had smashed 1,000 pounds! I was putting on pounds per day. Leaving bed became a brief and exhausting procedure, and whilst I tried to take stock of the situation, it was all just moving too fast. I lay there, keeping myself busied with television or books, as the very last traces of my once plump but shapely body were lost to billowing swells of soft, squishy fat.

My last stand was at about 1,100 pounds, I think. Held up by a nurse on each side, I even made an attempt to walk, but my legs were spread so far apart, not to mention also being so heavy, that I almost passed out. Part of the reason for that upheaval, as far as I remember, was to relocate me. I was to be moved from my generous suite that I had grown quite fond of, to a larger, more spacious solution, that would make life for both myself, but mainly the nurses, easier. With life now almost entirely in bed, there would be no need for a couch, or a table, or kitchenette to get in the way I guess. The move to a larger ‘suite’ also made way for other changes. With bathroom visits near impossible, and bed based attempts getting trickier by the day, I was hooked up to a ‘discreet pump’ - designed to take my waste away without the need for a dedicated break. The feeding machine also received an upgrade, or rather, was replaced with a more substantial model. I don’t know the specs, but its capacity alone was significantly greater! The irony of having both a machine to fill me, and a machine to help empty me didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it seemed so ridiculous that I would often expect to wake up, as if I were stuck in a bizarre dream. With what I later learned was a move to the ‘main’ facility, the real process of fattening my poor body began. My feeding schedule intensified to such a degree that I learned how to take cat-naps whilst the feeding machine kept on feeding. With only a few hours a night dedicated to actual sleep, I needed all the rest I could get as I fatigued from almost constant digestion. It was exhausting, yet by the time I woke up, I was practically begging for more as my appetite grew increasingly insatiable. I don’t recall if I ever stood up on my own feet again after the move, but it seems unlikely. Either way, as I grew accustomed to a life on my back, my mood swung rapidly between remorse and feigned ignorance. There was little use wishing I could turn back the clock, and I didn’t dare think too deeply about my future. For the most part, I just tried to live day-by-day, focusing my thoughts on enjoying the chance to self-indulge - Nurse Jade’s comment still very much keeping my attitude largely positive. Despite this, my heart would still race with panic whenever I overheard a nurse talking about how much I weighed or recently gained. Even though I was struggling with my growing size, my brain just couldn’t comprehend what it heard. I don’t really think the human body is designed to understand that it weighs, say, 1,500 pounds - it’s just too far out of its design scope. I can tell you now that it is a lot for one girl to weigh, and yet, it wasn’t enough for the department. That was it. From then on, the department found ways to feed me more, feed me faster, improve the formula, the efficiency, the timings, you name it, they tweaked it, and there was little I could do except lay back and guzzle. Occasionally the pace would ease off as the team tried to overcome some scientific hurdle or another, but it usually didn’t take long before I was being pumped and stuffed around the clock once more, gaining more than ever. Do I think that this trial will come to an end? Well, like I said earlier, I’ve given up on them giving up, if you get what I mean? In my heart of hearts, I hope that they do though, and soon! I really don’t know how much more I can cope with, my body feels fit to bust. I’m being swallowed, pulled and crushed all at once, but my protests go ignored. They only care about one thing, and that is that I keep gaining, growing fatter, and fatter. I have to keep trusting that I’m in good hands, I guess!” With that, I could sense the steady swell of activity in the room once again, and, sure enough as I bid my polite and grateful farewell to Matilda, the access platform slowly began its descent to ground level for the final time. I looked over my notes, and whilst I still had plenty of questions for the gigantic gainer, many of them didn’t seem that relevant, really. Asking about plans for her future - or at least her plans for her future - seemed almost an insult. Even asking about the trial ever ending seemed to provoke a slightly sharp, frosty response from the seemingly laid back girl. Standing back and observing for a moment, I watched as the freshly cleaned hopper of the feeding pump was brimmed with yet more thick, fattening mixture. A team of nurses with cleaning equipment, and others with tablets and clipboards scurried about. Meanwhile, a plump, blonde nurse ascended on the platform, once again with the familiar feeding hose in hand. For several minutes I stood and watched, in my mind wondering how much longer this incredulous charade would continue for; days? Weeks? Months? Just how much bigger could poor Matilda get? Maybe one day, I would be able to find out…

Just One More Year (Extended Ending) Believe it or not, the idea to arrange a follow-up interview wasn’t actually my own, but in fact came from Matilda herself. Or, at least, the department that ‘looked after’ her contacted me, on her behalf. Even from the assistant I dealt with, there seemed to be an air of urgency to Matilda’s request, and so immediate flights had been arranged for me, seemingly before I had actually agreed. It didn’t feel like there was a moment to lose. During my flight, I tried to gather my thoughts and imagine what another year of extreme overindulgence would have done to Matilda’s already burgeoning body. Yet, even I was unprepared for what I was about to see, as I was led into a new, even larger hall by a fast-trotting, quick talking nurse. Matilda had been gigantic, the sheer size of such a girl imprinted vividly in my memory. Now, however, the word gigantic didn’t seem even remotely adequate. She was, by definition, too big. Easily several thousand pounds heavier than the last time I had seen her, the challenge of defining the base features of a human became almost impossible. Rolls of fat fought one another, and formed deep, fleshy caverns. Mounds of soft, over-plumped skin jostled for space beneath a vast, spreading belly. I felt both keen and apprehensive to venture further, as I observed the state of the girl that, only twelve months ago, had confided in me that she didn’t think she could take much more. Yet, here she was, easily weighing tons, and significantly heavier than ever before. My trepidation was easily outweighed by my curiosity, however, and I had enjoyed my previous meeting with Matilda - she had come across as easy-going and positive, despite her situation back then - and I only hoped that attitude had survived what must be an incredulous and punishing weight gain routine. This time I was not raised on a platform, but instead lowered down on one, suspended from a large gantry crane that straddled the cavernous, warehouse-like space of a new, even larger testing ‘suite’. As the platform gently lowered, I peered down at Matilda’s head, sunken into its fatty surrounds of chest, back and shoulder flesh, her ginormous belly towering threateningly in front of her. I tried to bury my shocked expression with a smile, and gave a shy wave with my finger tips. Matilda smiled back weakly. I looked for a wave, but quickly realised that her hands, much like her feet, had since been cocooned within the greedy swells of fat. Briefly, I could just make out the very tips of her fingers wiggling, but that was about it. At our last meeting, she had at least been able to use her hands, but this was just another reminder of how much the gainer had grown since. Finally, the platform halted, and I knelt down, doing my best to reach a comfortable eye-line for us both. Matilda gazed at me with those big, beautiful eyes. There was silence. Heavy, breathy silence. Then she cracked another weak, but genuine smile. “It’s great to see you Matilda,” I ventured cheerfully, “but look, I don’t have any more questions to ask. I mean, I do, just not in an official capacity, and, well… oh heck, I’m rambling…” “Kiss me… please,” Matilda begged. Her voice was faint, and she gulped desperately for air between words. “Sorry?” “Please… kiss… me… it’s been… so… long…”

“Matilda, I don’t understand…” “So long… since your… last… visit… I couldn’t… stop… thinking about… you… please… just one… kiss… before… our time is… up!” Matilda’s straining voice had a further urgency to it. This was only supposed to be a quick drop in, not an interview slot like my previous visit. Time was of the essence. Whilst it didn’t seem very dignified, I lay down on my front, hanging over the front of the platform in order to get close to Matilda’s supple, plump pout. I had spent many restless nights thinking about Matilda, and so there was very little hesitation. Our lips pushed together, and I could feel her soft, fattened cheeks push against my own. Her skin was unimaginably soft - well nourished of course, stretched, and sheltered from the sun and its relentless radiation. I reached forward a hand and gently caressed the side of her face, once again admiring its tenderness. Our moment was interrupted by the sound of a bell briefly ringing in the distance. I looked around, and when I looked back to Matilda I realised that the platform was beginning to move away. My face must have conveyed panic, but Matilda simply threw me the best smile she could, with tears forming in the ducts of her eyes. As I lurched unsteadily to my feet, platform swaying, I traded places with another platform being lowered, as mine was rising up. On it were two nurses, equipped once again with the hose from the feeding machine, that was now routed across the gantry. I exchanged a brief and awkward look with the nurses, but they simply replied with a cheerful wave. “Sorry,” the slimmer of the two nurses exchanged, “We need to keep Matilda on schedule…” Before I could find the words to retort, they disappeared further below, and I reached the top of the gantry crane, now even more confused than when I had first arrived. Once back on the ground, I was greeted by a short, plump nurse with mesmerising freckles and strawberry-blonde hair held in a sturdy, long plait. Her bottom and hips were just a little too large for her smock, and occasionally she would tug at it awkwardly. She began to take me on a tour of the facility, around the gigantic, heavy duty platform and the incredible girl that manages to fill it to near-capacity. In the background I can hear the sound of the feeding pump humming into life. The nurse explained to me the cleaning regimes, the medical care Matilda received, and all the intricate processes of this monstrous operation. As we slowly navigate around the huge platform, I still find it almost impossible to comprehend that all that flesh belongs to just one girl. Frustratingly though, I find myself with one big, unanswered question. “So, what is the purpose of this research project?” I tentatively ask the young nurse.

“Well…” she begins, but before she can continue we both freeze as an urgent sounding klaxon begins to ring out across the enormous, echoing space. Warning beacons above the doorways begin to flash and strobe. The nurse doesn’t answer me. Instead, she looks around in hastened agitation for her colleagues, and then grabs my hand. “Wait here!” She barks, “No, actually, come with me! Quick!” Almost immediately there was a sudden and increasing bustle of bodies, moving with urgency as the klaxon continued to sound. “What’s… what’s happening?” I blurted, as the nurse dragged me to an emergency exit that was already swarming with staff running both in and out. “We told them!” the nurse huffed, “We told them she was getting too big! They just don’t listen, ever. They just want more!” “Who does?! What’s happening?!” “They do! It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter… If we’re lucky, this is just an early warning sensor that has triggered but… but if not, we really are in trouble. Oh heck!” “Is… is she choking?” “Worse - overinflating!” “Is that even…?” “Unfortunately, yes,” the nurse confirmed, checking back eagerly toward Matilda and the ant-like activity that surrounded her mountainous body. She continued, “Matilda’s body is balancing on an absolute knife-edge, and it has been for quite some time. The heavier she gets, the harder it is to keep that balance, even with all the additives and supplements we pump into her. We’ve known for a while that until there are further developments - significant developments - in the formulas we use, Matilda was already far exceeding her limits, and our calculations, and we have really been pushing into the unknown. That’s why they called you in, and fast.”

“Me? What’s so special about me?” “I guess you listened to her. Let her tell her story. Plus, she thinks you’re kinda hot - so I’ve heard, anyway. I can sort of see where she’s coming from with…” “Thanks, thanks, but… but why now? What’s going to happen to her?!” “Like I say, if we’re lucky, this is just an early warning sensor being triggered. We’ve had several of them over the past few weeks, and she’s been fine, so it could just be that…” “But?” “If it isn’t, then she’ll start to gain weight - rapidly! We call it ‘Fatspansion’, but really it is an extreme metabolic reaction. It could be a few pounds, it could be a few hundred, or it could be much, much more. There’s no way of knowing, and no way of controlling it…” “And if that happens? Then what?” I asked, my eyes darting to both Matilda and the crowd in search of clues. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but, she could, y’know, potentially… explode…”

“Explode?!” “I said could! Not will!” The nurse snapped, tension in the room running higher than ever. The room continued to scurry with bodies, activity focused around the gargantuan mound of woman that formed its centerpiece. Trollies laden with equipment were hurriedly both into, and out of the exits. Pockets of commotion arose, and then died down, only to make way for others. The great, unrecognisable swellings of fat would occasionally wobble and ripple, before seemingly becoming somewhat still again. I tried several times to inch closer, away from the safety of the outer walls, but each time my wrist was firmly clamped by the anxious nurse. There were a few climatic moments of creaking and heaving, some jostling and jiggling, and heightened panic from the crowd of support staff, but eventually stability seemed to reign over, and the room slowly emptied of urgent white coats and exhausted nurses’ smocks. In fact, everyone seemed exhausted, myself included, and no one more so than poor Matilda. Yet another dangerously close call only highlighted just how near the huge feedee was to her limits. Whilst the plan had been for me to visit and then leave, senior staff decided it would be better if I stayed the night, and met with Matilda again the next day, to keep her spirits up. It was an offer I felt that I couldn’t refuse. As another young nurse led me to the accommodation block through a maze of almost identical corridors, my mind puzzled at the thought of, potentially, having the world’s heaviest girlfriend. And, well, that nurse did say that Matilda liked me, right? The accommodation was comfortable, but functional - the kind of room a student nurse or doctor most likely stayed in. The air was stale, but crisp and disinfected. That night I barely slept. Since that first interview around one year ago, it seemed that my inner feeder had been awakened. Those brief moments sharing that part eaten flapjack had been on repeat, over and over again. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact forces in action, but just the thought of that already enormous body becoming even bigger, heavier and over-burdened had kept me restlessly awake for many more nights. I had to feed her again. The morning was spent being given another impromptu tour of further areas of the sprawling facility, although I was carefully whisked past many doors that remained private. All the while, my mind kept flitting back to Matilda and her enormity. Heck, the only reason I was being given this tour was because they, whoever they were, wanted to keep up Matilda’s routine! Despite the warnings, despite yesterday, the department were still feeding her. “Could I make it, y’know, more of a ‘date?’” I asked the nurse with timidity, as I was finally escorted to Matilda’s vast, warehouse-like room. “A date?” She rattled, stopping dead in her tracks. I almost backed down. “Well, maybe more like a picnic, or something. A few snacks, one of those check tablecloths from the canteen… uhm…” The nurse, quite a heavy woman herself, frowned her glowing brow and adjusted her big, weighty bosom. My mind scrambled for backup, “…uhm… because, well, she said how much she liked her treats when I interviewed her last year, and, and… well, doesn’t she deserve a little treat after what happened yesterday?” For a moment the nurse sucked thinly at the air, and then rolled her eyes, “Why can’t my husband do thoughtful things like this?” “So, it’s… it’s okay?” “Sure. Sure, it’s sweet. We’ll swing by the canteen on the way there. Not too much though, Matilda’s just been fed!” A short while later I found myself standing on the familiar, suspended platform, trying to ignore the lofty height, and instead focusing on the modest selection of treats that I had obtained, wrapped in a small table cloth, reminiscent of a bindle. I waved to Matilda, and her smile grew between those big, over-indulged cheeks as my platform made its way down to a more friendly height. Once stationary, I knelt down and then unfurled the tablecloth, draping it over the edge of the platform, the furthest corner of it resting on the exquisitely soft flesh of her fattened chest. It perhaps wasn’t the romantic picnic scene many would imagine, but it was at least an attempt. “What’s… this?” Matilda husked. “A picnic,” I stated, before realising how ridiculous that sounded, “well, kinda. Look, I… I like you Matilda, and I just thought you deserved something a bit special, maybe like a little date? Just us two - well, in close range, anyway…” Matilda smiled, and nodded as best as her sunken skull would allow. I held up the flapjack bar and grinned. “From our first da…” I stopped myself, “…from the interview, you remember right?” Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard, still nodding. I then held up a small bag of filled doughnuts oozing with cream, and then a dense, icing-laden cupcake. There were also eclairs, millionaires shortbread, and a few large cookies, generously coated in chocolate chips. “Which would you like first?” I ventured. “The… flap… jack,” she gasped, “… but please… only a… bite… I’m full. She sounded full, both in her voice, and from the gentle heaving and creaking sounds her body seemed to emit, interspersed by gurgles and rumbles of industrious digestion. No sooner had I unwrapped the flapjack and offered it up to the greedy girl, than she took a bite, and then another. My heart raced faster as she hungrily chewed and smacked with steadily increasing indulgent pleasure. As she swallowed, I held the remainder of the flapjack bar up and smiled, dutifully trying to override my own desires and, in turn, respect her wishes. “Well, it wasn’t much, but it was a nice treat I bet?” “… More…” Matilda breathed. “More?! But you said…” “Please… just a little…” She took a bite, and then another, and then devoured the last piece, her eyes rolling back with each eagre mouthful. “… So… full…” she whispered airlessly. “Well, we can leave the rest and, well, talk about things and…” “… More… Please…” Much like the monster that was Matilda’s inner greed, I also couldn’t say no to assisting this gorgeous girl into excessive over-indulgence. So big - too big by far - and yet even at this incredulous size and weight, she just could not say no. She was perilously full, even by her own standards, but whatever was inside her kept on pushing for more. “… More…” Matilda begged, helplessly. First a doughnut, and then another. “You… can’t beat… a real… doughnut!” She munched. My plan had been to talk a little more - indeed, those treats had been for both of us - but with each snack heartily consumed, she was almost immediately expecting the next. “…More…” “…More…” “…More…”

Slowly but surely the collection of calorific treats began to dwindle as Matilda, and perhaps myself to some degree, lost control. It now seemed that within us both, there were monsters that we would struggle to tame. Soon, there was just one large, chocolate chip cookie left. As I held the cookie up, Matilda fixated on it, with wide, suspicious eyes. She panted heavily, gasping for air under her mountainous excess. Her cheeks and brow were flushed, and they glistened with exhausted perspiration. So very gently, she did her best to shake her head. “… I’m… full…” Matilda said aloud, in a way that almost felt like she was reminding herself, “… I don’t… think I’ve… ever… felt… so… stuffed… I… I feel… fit to… burst…” There was a moment of silence as the huge feedee desperately tried to catch her breath. However, as I gently lowered the cookie back toward the blanket, I couldn’t help but notice that Matilda’s gaze remained locked onto it with a hawk-like side eye. She still wanted it. Inside her mind, there was an incredible battle taking place - one in which I’m pretty sure she’d lost the ability to win. In vain I tried to spark up conversation to try and get her attention, to distract her, but she barely responded, and her eyes remained greedily hooked on to the large, delicious cookie. Matilda swallowed hard. “Go on,” I ventured, holding the cookie a little closer, “it is the last one.” “I’m… full…” she moaned feebly, doing her best to shake her head, “…I …can’t…” I leaned forward gently, and held the cookie closer still. Matilda’s gaze was glued to the delicious looking snack. “How about just one tiny bite?” I pushed, my own greed to see this vast girl keep on eating steadily taking over. “M-m-maybe…” she squeezed, “…just one… little… taste…” The desire to satisfy my curiosity didn’t take much more convincing. I held the cookie up to Matilda’s plumped, pouting lips, and her large, cow-like eyes changed their focus from the cookie, and instead turned to look up at me. Matilda bit fiercely into the chocolate-chipped treat, taking far more than many would consider a reasonable mouthful. Then she chewed, and chewed, her eyes flickering back. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this Matilda,” I cautiously began to reveal, “but I think you look super hot when…” “…More…” Matilda gasped, cutting me off. Of course, I readily obliged. Once again, she pecked forward and greedily removed another filling mouthful of cookie. I continued, “I… I just wanted to say that I think you look really hot when you’re eating. Really hot!” “…That’s… good…” she munched, her tone only half joking, “… because it’s… about… all I… can… do…” “Well…” I began. “… More…” Matilda begged. She took a bite, unstoppable greed coursing through every incredible inch of her gigantic body. “… More…” Then her chewing began to slow, from gluttonous insatiability, to a cautious concern. Her enormous body continued to provide a subtle backing track of heaving and creaking, with accompanying vocals from deep, grumbling digestion. Slower and slower here mastication became until, finally, with wide, worried eyes, Matilda swallowed. For a moment there was near-silence. The huge feedee closed her eyes, and held her breath. Neither of us dared to move so much as a hair on our bodies. Then, her eyes flicked open with a sudden, desperate intake of air, and she lay panting. The grumbling sounds intensified for a second, and then subsided to their usual chatter. I gave a warm grin, and then held up the last, modest mouthful of cookie. Immediately her eyes locked back onto it, her gaze stubbornly fixed, as though something inside of her had to consume it. “I’m… full…” she breathed once more, “… Really… full…” Held within the tips of my fingers, I slowly offer the cookie just a touch closer. “… Why won’t… anybody… listen… to me?… Any more… and… I’m going… to…to… explode…” Still Matilda’s stare was focused on the last crumbling crumb of cookie in my hold. She swallowed, hard. “… I… I can’t… I mustn’t…” she reasoned with herself, “… What’s wrong… with… you… Matilda?” Inside my chest, my heart pounded aggressively against the confines of my ribcage. This superstructure of a girl before me had eaten, and stuffed, and glutted herself to the absolute limits of what her body was capable of, and yet here she was, on the edge, still unable to leave a morsel. Unable to say no, even to herself. Matilda’s eyes flick up to mine, then back to the last piece of cookie as I carefully positioned it closer. “It’s just one last, little bite.” I offered with encouragement. “I… know…” she whispered hoarsely, “…but… I’m…” An intense pause followed. With it Matilda tightly shut her eyes with a soft-browed frown, and then began to take deep, heavy gasps for air, much like an athlete preparing for their next record-breaking event. Then suddenly she seemed to return, her eyes once again locking onto the final remains of our ‘picnic’. “Heck… to it!” Matilda gasped firmly, “As you… say… it’s just… one… little… bite…” “You sure?” I quizzed, only out of politeness, my hand now trembling with anticipation. She nodded with subtle, reluctant affirmation, “What’s… one… more… bite… huh?” “Well, exactly.” I agreed, savoring every moment as I slowly pushed the cookie forward towards the adorably helpless gainer.” “… More…” she moaned, “… More…” And with that, the cookie was pulled into Matilda’s expectant maw, clamped and then shattered between her teeth, plump cheeks furiously rattling. “… Mmm…” she moaned. “I told you that you look hot when you’re eating, Matilda.” I whispered to her, as I leaned over the platform and gave her glistening forehead a gentle kiss. Matilda didn’t seem to notice, instead consumed by whatever crippling self-indulgence made it possible for this to happen to her. She chewed on steadily, working the cookie dough hard with her jaw. In my mind, I was already contemplating how I could get an opportunity to do this - to feed Matilda - again, and soon. Helping someone so big, so gluttonous continue to over-indulge pushed buttons in my brain that I never knew existed. I’d find a way to buy more treats next time, or smuggle them in, somehow. The steady chewing slowed gradually to a cautious, tentative crunch, and Matilda’s brow creased between her eyebrows. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, glowing worry. Her beautiful, glistening eyes stared with concentration through the great belly that blocked her view, to something deeper. Something seemed wrong.

Finally Matilda swallowed, slowly, and with a quiver to her laboured breathing. Her body grumbled under the small yet ever-increasing load. “Anyway,” I began, trying to rouse the overfed girl from her concerned gaze, “What I really wanted to ask was, if you don’t think it’s too forward an’ all, but, well, I sense there’s a chemistry between us and, thing is, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr…” “Oh… shit…” Matilda coughed, cutting off my heartfelt, if somewhat rambling proposal. We both fell into a stunned silence for a moment. With it, it sounded like the now familiar creaking of her colossal body, and the low, guttural growls from within were growing louder. “…I… I… don’t… feel… so…” Matilda seemed to wriggle uncomfortably within her own enormousness, although it was hard for her diminutive frame to have much effect on the monstrous bulk of her corpulence. Then the movement grew gradually more intense, as though she were being jostled from beneath, sending sloshing ripples through her gargantuan flanks of fat. “…Oh… shit!… Oh god!… I… I think… I’m… starting to… get… bigger…” “Surely you’re always getting kind of bigger?” I tried to comfort, lightheartedly. There was no response though. Matilda just looked at me with wide, panicking eyes. As the jostling intensified further, her gaze instead began to dart around, fearfully observing the ever so slowly swelling of her already engorged figure. She was indeed getting bigger, and heavier, and at a steadily increasing rate. And then, the klaxon once again began to sound, and before I could give Matilda a reassuring touch to her cheek, the platform began to lift, rapidly. “W-What’s… what’s happening… to… me…?!” I stumbled and fell back giddily, then quickly attempted to stand and brace myself on the handrails of the swaying platform. I peered over the edge, back down to the helpless girl steadily swelling, her voice growing ever more faint as the hoist whisked me away, and the commotion in the room began to grow. “Help!… please… some… one… help!… I’m… I’m blowing up!” Hurried footsteps clattered on the catwalk of the gantry crane above, as the impossibly large girl swelled even larger. “I’m getting… too… mmpphhh!… big… please… mmpphhh!!

>>13784 boy it was good to re-read that. The making of matilda is legendary