By Any Means Necessary (One-Off) (Patreon)

Author's note:  This time I posted the text and PDF.  A little over 6,000 words, this is a chunky October one-off.  I hope you enjoy.  In the spirit of October I went with what is usually a darker theme in WG fiction and tried to play around with it.  I'd love to know how people like this one.

Have a great weekend!  Thanks again for all the support!

-Polaris

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Description: A desperate office worker seeks to restore her body to its former glory through unconventional means (hiring a company to kidnap her and force her to lose weight, although something gets lost in translation…)

By Any Means Necessary…

By Polarisdreamer

On my way to catch up with an old friend for lunch, I had to admit, I was equal parts dreading this meet up and excited for it. I hadn’t seen Lindsey since I’d graduated from college five years ago. Back then she’d been my not-so-little freshman ‘little’ in our sorority. In personality and appearance, Lindsey was honest, introverted, outgoing, sweet and sincere. The perky, short, and plump blonde was careful about what she ate and hit the gym with me almost every day, but no matter what she did, she was always roughly 50 pounds heavier than everyone else in our sorority. Some girls are just destined to be bigger, and Lindsey was one of those girls. Despite our differences in appearance, we had a lot in common, large appetites, similar taste in music and TV, we even had an identical deepest darkest secret… She was like the best friend I always wanted, but never had.

Back then, she worshiped and idolized me. Probably for the support I gave her and the acceptance she felt around me that she didn’t always get from some of our more snobbish sisters. However, I think she also looked up to me because of my flawless athletic figure. In college, I’d been on the swim team burning calories just as fast as I could consume them. I had always been proud that despite my large appetite and tendency to drink too much at parties, I always stayed fit and healthy looking. My waist was slim and toned, my arms and legs had some muscular definition, and my bust was rather large for my naturally pear-shaped frame, I looked like a real sporty girl-next-door.

Then, after graduation, I started my office job. It paid well, but it was time consuming, and stressful work. I was fine for a year or two, but without the need to keep in shape for my sport, I was slowly losing my willpower to hit the gym. I started skipping workouts, snacking at work, and comfort eating at home. Eating more, moving less, and sitting sedentarily for so many hours every week took a toll on my figure.

It wasn’t noticeable at first. At least, I think it wasn’t. My flat stomach developed a slight curve to it. A soft layer of pudge began to form, but it wasn’t too much trouble to hide with the right outfits. So, rather than bite the bullet and sweat off my newfound flab, I just went on a shopping spree to cover it up. My bank account was blowing up faster than I was, so I figured it was a perfect solution. After all, I didn’t look or feel all that different all things considered.

However, after a few more months of sitting, and eating, the ‘right’ outfits I had purchased started to get a little difficult for me to squeeze into. My hips, thighs, and butt had softened, and grown plumper, and that slight curve to my stomach had snowballed into a clump of chubby fat. I’d gained 15 pounds, maybe 20… or 25... Either way, for the first time in my life, I could pinch more than an inch of fat around my burgeoning belly.

I told myself I’d get serious with the gym and sweat myself back to normal, but my best laid plans never came to fruition. Something always got in the way. Hanging out with friends, dates, new shows launching on Netflix… Even when I did make it to the gym on occasion, I was more likely to grab a protein smoothie and socialize rather than put in any serious cardio work.

As more time passed, my body continued to grow. It was still easier to buy new clothes in a size up than make it to the gym or turn down a dessert after dinner, so that’s what I kept doing. I was making good money, so it wasn’t like the cost was a problem. In my head, I convinced myself that if I just kept buying the ‘right’ outfits, nobody would be able to notice I’d let myself go a little bit. After all, the only places I seemed to be packing on some extra cushion were my stomach and lower body.

As months transitioned into 3 years, my butt lost all its former firmness and gained a lot of thick and chunky excess fat, a consequence of all the sitting and eating I was regularly doing. My stomach had finished its transition into a soft and rounded, low hanging pot-belly. Now even the ‘right’ shirts couldn’t hide the plump curve of my thick gut. I’d become undeniably overweight and chubby, my hips had widened, my thighs had thickened, even my once rock-solid calves had grown soft and plump. I was larger almost everywhere, except my face, arms, and regrettably, my bust size. My body had morphed from a toned pear-shape into a plump bottom-heavy blimp. A manageable 15 pounds of weight had avalanched into a 50… Okay… 60… Alright! 80 godd*mn pounds! Happy?

On my own, in front of a mirror, I could sometimes convince myself that I still looked okay now that my weight had eclipsed 200lbs for the first time in my adult life, but as I entered the quaint café Lindsey and I had chosen for our long overdue rendezvous, I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed that I’d let myself go so badly. I was fatter than Lindsey, my fat sorority sister, had ever been in college. It was horrible, but as a waitress brought me to our table, I secretly hoped that in the year since Lindsey had graduated, she’d let herself grow fat enough that I’d still be the skinny one by comparison.

Those vain hopes were dashed the moment I rounded the corner of the café and came face to face, with my former ‘little’. Lindsey hadn’t gained weight after graduation, quite the opposite. Somehow, she’d lost those stubborn college pounds, and I’d found them.

“Oh my gosh!  Lindsey! You look different!” I cooed, trying not to let my insecurity over the fact that I was now probably at least 80 pounds heavier than my former fat friend sour our reunion.

“Marisa! Haha, so do you!” Lindsey smiled widely, as she quickly got up and wrapped her arms around my bulbous gut, squeezing tightly. Back in the day my shorter friend’s soft squishy and cushy hugs had always tickled me pink, but now that I was the soft and cushy one, her rock-solid body felt uncomfortable squeezing into me. Thanks to her constricting my rounded gut, it felt like my fat stomach was suffocating me, “It’s sooo great to see you!”

“It’s great to… *gasp* see you too!” I managed to wheeze, as Lindsey realized her mistake and loosened her grip around my blubbery midsection.

“What’s new??” Lindsey hummed sounding interested, while she put her hand on my blubbery tummy and teased, “It’s safe to assume you don’t swim much anymore, huh?”

I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by what she said. She was right, I didn’t exercise anymore. It was mortifying enough when my heavy jiggly body caused me to lose my breath walking up a flight of stairs at work, I didn’t even own a set of workout clothes that fit me anymore.  Wanting to preempt and defuse any awkwardness surrounding my elevated weight, I swallowed my embarrassment and tried to roll with it, “Nope. I got too fat for all my old swimsuits. As you can see.”

Sensing my insecurity, Lindsey attempted to support me, “You’re not THAT fat. I was probably your size when I graduated last year. It’s not that bad at all. If I can lose it, you can too. You were always such a great athlete.”

“Not anymore, but wait… You lost 80 pounds?  In a year?? How???” I gasped desperately. I needed to know my little’s secret.

“No, not that much, but I did lose almost 60 pounds. And I lost it all over the summer.” Lindsey revealed seeming a little unwilling to get into details.

“You lost 60 pounds in like three months???  What the f*ck Lindsey!? How’d you do that? I need to know, I have my cousin’s wedding coming up next summer and I’m desperate to drop a few dress sizes.” I begged, probably sounding a little too frantic, “I don’t want to be the fattest bridesmaid especially since I used to be the fittest girl in my family.”

“I mean, I had help, and it wasn’t cheap… I’d rather not get into it right now. How about we catch up first?” Lindsey proposed trying not to blush for some reason.

Figuring she’d hired some expensive personal trainer or something, so I relented and allowed the conversation to move on to more relaxed topics. Even though it had been years since we’d last seen each other, and we’d both physically changed quite a bit in opposite directions, it was so easy to talk to her.

We ordered some food, Lindsey ordered a salad, and I ordered a meatball sub. I couldn’t help it. Even in front of my old friend, I couldn’t hide the fact that my self-control was nonexistent anymore. While we gossiped, I had to keep pausing and wipe sauce off my cheeks, but Lindsey didn’t care, truth be told, I was always a messy eater even before I got fat.

Lindsey wasn’t judging me for my size, just like I never used to judge her. We talked about my job, how she quit her old job and was starting a new one tomorrow, friends, current events, everything we could think of. As our friendly lunch together was nearing its end, Lindsey steered us onto the topic of TV shows.

“Soo Marisa, I have to ask, have you seen You on Netflix?” My glamorous looking younger friend, excitedly prattled, before enjoying the last of her meager salad.

“Oh yeah, I binged watched it religiously. Penn Badgley was sexy as Dan in Gossip Girl, but lord, Joe is a... Whole. New. Level!” I gushed, unable to withhold my enthusiasm, as I reached for the donut I’d ordered to replace the meatball sub I’d devoured half an hour ago.

“I’d let him kidnap me in a heartbeat.” Lindsey blushed with a joyful knowing smile on her thinner face.

“Haha, me too. Me too…” I blushed along with her, equally knowingly, before my insecurities reared their ugly head yet again, “But he wouldn’t want a fatty like me.”

“You’re not that fat. I bet if he saw a picture of how perfect you looked in college, he would capture you, and force you to get back in shape.” Lindsey voiced her imagination with some excess enthusiasm in her voice.

“Haha! That would be a dream come true. That’s exactly what I need to get my fat ass back to my former glory.” I laughed, resting one of my hands on my big belly and feeling a little bit better. If you couldn’t guess, each of us harbored secret sexual fantasies of being kidnapped. It was our commonly held deepest darkest secret, and something we’d bonded over long ago in college.

“Imagine it. Feeling helpless… The bondage, hand cuffs and sh*t. Losing control of what you can wear, do, and eat… Getting punished or rewarded sexually… Trying to escape but failing.” Lindsey vividly explained, toying with my twisted imagination, before she continued, “Delicious, right?”

“Duh! The thought of it turns me on to no end!” I responded enthusiastically, “You know that.”

“Yeah, but do you think you’d enjoy it, like if it happened to you in real life?” Lindsey clarified, as I raised an eyebrow. She was suddenly acting a bit suspicious.

“In real life I’d never want something like that to happen to me.” I replied without hesitation. In my mind, fantasy was fantasy, and that was that. It was something I could think about during sex to help me climax, nothing more.

“What if you could experience it safely, through like a simulation?” Lindsey suggested looking like she had more she wanted to say.

“Like roleplaying, with a boyfriend? Yeah, I’d be all about that.” I admitted, although I’d never shared such a personal detail with anyone I’d dated thus far.

“No, that’s not what I mean… Have you heard of… ‘extreme kidnapping?’” Lindsey asked notably quieter than she was a moment ago.

“No. Why? What is it?” I replied unable to conceal my curiosity.

“It’s where you literally pay to have yourself kidnapped by a service that creates high-stakes, simulated kidnapping experiences, complete with whatever add-ons you want. How exciting would that be?” Lindsey revealed joyfully much to my surprise.

“Exciting? Umm… I don’t know. Is it safe?” I muttered quite caught off guard.

“It’s perfectly safe.” Lindsey replied with an odd grin on her face.

“How would you know?” I questioned suspiciously.

“How do you think I finally lost weight so quickly?” Lindsey winked causing me to connect the dots.

“You didn’t!” I almost laughed, unable to contain my curiosity and excitement.

“I did! And it was everything I ever dreamed it would be!  It’s why I wanted to meet up after all this time, I can’t talk about this stuff with anyone else, you know?” Lindsey prattled uncontrollably.

“I know! Now spill the beans!” I demanded, giving her a little nudge.

“Okay, I stumbled upon the company online one night, read about it, thought about it, and decided to kill two birds with one stone. My job was getting stressful, I wasn’t happy with my weight, I just needed someone else to take care of me and put me on a strict diet, so I didn’t have to be responsible for myself for a while and besides, it’s what turns me on more than anything else. So, I went for it. And you know what? It was worth every penny. Scratching that itch was unlike anything I’ve ever done before ever!  Totally worth it.” Lindsey confessed sounding relieved to share her experience with someone who understood.

“Ah! Okay, so how did it work?” I giggled, probably sounding a little too desperate to know more.

“They have a website, you need to fill out a pretty detailed pre-experience questionnaire, but then you can arrange your very own kidnapping experience or fantasy. You can have a team of henchmen or an all-woman squad take you when you least expect it. The company will avoid crowded places so that your fake kidnapping won’t get reported to the police. Then you’ll undergo… Well… Anything you asked for on the website… The experience can last a few hours, days, weeks, even months if you’ve got the money for it. The services are perfectly legal, you can even have a safe word to end the experience early if it gets too intense for you.” Lindsey finished explaining.

“I NEED more details. What did you ask them to do to you?” I begged, needing to know.

“I’ll only share if you try it for yourself first. I don’t want to spoil your first experience.” Lindsey smiled before giving me the company’s information.

It was like she knew my interest had been peaked beyond the point of no return. I never understood why the fantasy of getting kidnapped turned me on so much. My therapist told me it might be because I crave the thought of letting go of all my agency and being completely submissive, but who knows? Even if it is a bit of an extreme fantasy, I don’t have control over the fact that it turns me on, so I figure why should I be hard on myself about it? Lindsey’s talk of living out my fantasy in a safe simulated environment struck a chord with me.

That night, I looked up the company online, and decided to sign myself up for my own custom kidnapping fantasy with the help of some liquid courage. Okay, a lot of liquid courage, I downed almost a full bottle of wine and got well and truly drunk before I worked up the courage to fill out the pre-experience questionnaire.

From what I remember the questionnaire was detailed. Very detailed. I had to write down how I’d learned about their company. How long I wanted my experience to last. I specifically remember having to check off that I had no known allergies, phobias, and whether or not I was okay with being stunned via stun gun. I even had to list a safe word, just in case the experience got too intense for me.

After submitting the questionnaire, I got to submit a script of what I wanted my experience to entail, so I let my creativity run wild. Unfortunately, I’m not that creative. I was also too drunk when I wrote it to remember to copy and save it for my records, so this is more or less the outline of what I submitted, probably with a lot less drunken typos:

---

Setting: In this fantasy, I’m a chubby office worker so unhappy with my current weight that I hire your company to kidnap me and force me to reach my goal weight of 150lbs by any means necessary.

Scene 1: I’m sleeping in by bed and suddenly I’m awoken in the middle of the night by a group of athletic masked men swarming my bedroom. I’m picturing about four or five guys, all wearing black face masks, black t-shirts, and black pants. They don’t say much, just rip me out of bed and put a hood over my head, so that I can’t even see what’s happening to me. My arms and legs are tied up. They put some tape around my mouth. I’m truly powerless. They force me out of my townhouse and into the back of a van where they drive me god knows where.

Scene 2: I pass out from the excitement and wake up in some sort of basement or cellar with equipment designed to help me reach my desired weight. Day in and day out, my captors relentlessly force me work toward reaching my goal weight by any means necessary. I want to be teased and humiliated, punished with spankings, and rewarded with oral sex. I want my captor to be a female. And I want her to threaten to only let me go if and when I reach my goal weight.

Scene 3: When I reach my desired weight, I want to be drugged, and dropped off back home in my bed without warning.

---

Yeah, I wussed out a little bit. As much as I would have loved for a man to be my primary captor, I felt safer going with a woman and although I needed to lose 80 pounds, it would have cost me an arm and a leg to pay the company to kidnapped me for that long. Losing 50 pounds was a still massive goal, and I was willing to take a three month leave of absence from my job for it. Losing 50 pounds would be enough for me to look hot again for my cousin’s wedding. So, I submitted everything I needed to, signed every disclaimer and waiver. I got the bill the next day and pulled some money out of my savings to pay for it. It was expensive, very expensive, but Lindsey had promised me it was worth every penny, and I trusted her.

On my receipt, it mentioned that the company reserved the right not to follow all my instructions to a T in order to heighten the experience for me. For the illusion to really work, the script I submitted would need to be tweaked at points, but if I was ever uncomfortable, I could always use my safe word to pause or end the scenario.

So, just like that, the deed was done. I told Lindsey about it and she enthusiastically wished me all the luck in the world. We agreed, that once I was released, we would hang out again to talk dirty details. That night I went to bed, hoping I would be promptly snatched away, but nothing happened. Until I was awoken in the middle of the night by a group of athletic masked men swarming my bedroom!

Shrieking with both fear and excitement, I attempted to run into my nearby closet, but my chubby body was far too slow to escape. They grabbed me, put tape around my mouth, tied my arms and legs and threw a hood over my head before forcing me out of my townhouse and into the back of a van. As I lay there, my heart pounding, the thrill was too much for me. Feeling both powerless and horny for what was to come, I passed out…

The next morning, I woke up in a bed that wasn’t my own with my hands and feet secured by cuffs. I was still wearing my pajamas and didn’t have any covers over me. It was dark and chilly, but light enough to see I was in a basement of some kind and that I wasn’t alone. A silhouette of a strong looking young woman wearing a highly decorated half-mask, a black t-shirt, and black pants, the mask only covered the woman’s eyes, cheeks, and nose, but it was enough to intimidate me. I thought picking a woman as my captor would make me feel safer, but I was wrong. She was standing to the side of the bed holding some sort of tube. I quietly began to freak out. I couldn’t move. I was helpless. Control was slipping from me, just a bit, and doubt began to creep into my mind with surprising ease.

That’s when she spoke…

“Good, you’re awake. Time for breakfast Marisa.” She coldly ordered, as she reached her hand toward my face, opened my mouth and stuck a tube right into it before barking in what sounded like an Eastern European accent, “You’ll swallow everything or next time I’ll shove the tube down your throat. You got it piggy?”

Blushing in response to being called a piggy, I hummed in a way that I hoped conveyed that I understood her demand and intended to comply. I couldn’t believe that this was really happening, but I quickly calmed down and warmed up to the scenario I had requested.

My capture looked strong, and I was growing excited for what was to come. I heard something click, and then a cool liquid began pouring into my mouth from the tube, it was really tasty. Which was surprising because I figured it was probably nothing more than a low-fat protein shake. As I started gulping down my scrumptious breakfast, I wondered what form of exercise I would be forced to endure afterward. At least, I did until a few minutes of this forced feeding passed and I began to feel quite full.

Seeing me struggling, my captor asked, “Need a break?”

“Mhh-Hmm!” I hummed, but this response only made my captor laugh.

“Two more minutes piggy. Then you can rest.” She replied, as she stepped forward and placed a hand on my rapidly swelling belly. The slight pressure she put on me was enough to cause some discomfort. I tried to struggle against my restraints, but only succeeded in rattling my cuffs and spilling some of the protein shake.

“What did I tell you about spilling piggy!” She sternly chastised me with a firm pinch to my rounding belly.

The pain motivated me to keep swallowing, desperate not to spill anymore of this delicious creamy substance I was being completely stuffed with. Gulp after gulp, I drank more, filling my gut well beyond the point of pleasure or comfort. After a few more minutes, my breakfast was over. I’d never felt more stuffed in my life. Not even on Thanksgiving or Christmas.

“Good piggy. Now you take a little nap and sleep it off.” She commanded, as she uncuffed me and left me alone in the room.

Anchored to the bed by my swollen gut, I adjusted myself onto my side, and got comfortable. As full as I was, I was feeling very tired all of a sudden. It was a food coma overtaking me. Doing as my captor said, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke, I slowly rolled my swollen self out of bed and curiously waddled around my new surroundings. The basement had a bathroom, lights, carpets, a couch, TV, refrigerator filled with soda and desserts, a pantry filled with junk food and some narrow rectangular windows with bars on them toward the edge of one of the walls.

Things weren’t adding up.

I didn’t understand why there wasn’t any exercise equipment. Not even a treadmill or a stationary bike. Perhaps they intended to force me to do bodyweight exercise? I wasn’t sure. But reflecting back on my breakfast, I realized the creamy substance had consumed tasted more like a milkshake than a protein shake. And all the food and desserts I now had access to were not healthy at all. I wanted to lose weight, not gain it. Nothing was making sense, until it hit me.

My captor intended to force me to eat all this junk food so I’d grow completely sick of it. After that, they’d probably shift my diet to something more low-calorie and bring in some exercise equipment. I couldn’t believe my good luck. Such a strategy was brilliant, by killing my junk food cravings once and for all it would ensure that once I regained my freedom, I wouldn’t regain all the weight I’d lose during my experience! The fact that it was out of my control somehow made it even better.

I decided if I was to be spoiled, even for a short while, I would do my best to sit back and enjoy the ride…

It was difficult to keep track of time without access to a calendar or clock, but I think my first few days in captivity followed a similar pattern to my first. I was awoken in the early morning for a pre-breakfast tube feeding. Sometimes I was fed a chocolate shake, other times it was vanilla. My captor never stopped until my stomach was completely filled. Then I’d go back to sleep and get woken up again a little bit later, this time for real food. Chocolate chip pancakes, waffles, French toast, scrapple, bacon, sausage, and all manner of fried potatoes. If I refused to finish my food, I was fed by force. If I ate well, I was rewarded with oral sex and the freedom to enjoy my confined dwelling however I liked until lunchtime. If I didn’t eat well during breakfast, I was confined to my bed and edged to the point of losing my mind over and over again until I accepted more food.

Lunch involved sandwiches, cheesesteaks, and fried chicken, and dinner involved pizza, Chinese food, and other forms of fattening take out. I was bombarded with food, sexual rewards and punishments, all while my beautiful captor teased and humiliated me for my gluttony and corpulence. I’m not a lesbian, but I’d never experienced anything hotter in my life.

However, as the days continued to pass, and eventually turned into weeks, my routine continued to remain the same. Probably a month into my experience, I realized something horrifying. I wasn’t getting sick of eating so horribly, I was getting addicted to it! And even worse, I wasn’t losing weight, I was gaining it at an alarmingly fast rate! Stuffing my plump stomach day in and day out increased my capacity for how much food I could consume, in response, my captor forced me to eat even more!

Too passive to voice my concern, I kept convincing myself that this fattening fate that had befallen me was just all part of a larger plan. I kept quiet, stayed obedient, and let my captor continue to inflate me like the lard balloon I was rapidly turning into. My gut was growing, as were my thighs, hips, and butt. I was expanding in every direction. Walking around my confined dwelling was growing more difficult. I was getting fatter and weaker each passing day.

With more time ahead of me in captivity, my need to know what was happening grew along with my ever-expanding backside… I didn’t get it. I specifically said in my script that I wanted to reach a goal weight of 150lbs, not 250lbs!

Unless… my dumb drunken ass submitted a typo…

After the thought crossed my mind, I needed to know if I f*cked up.  So one day, after my lunch, while I remained tied up and helplessly bloated in bed, I worked up the courage to beg my captor for an answer, “Excuse me… *burp!* Ma’am? What’s my goal weight?”

“What did I tell you about talking out of turn? Eh Piggy?” My captor growled, as she continued to massage my sorely stuffed globular gut.

“I’m sorry, I just need to know if there’s been a mistake. I wanted to lose weight, not gain it!” I rapidly expressed myself, while avoiding eye contact. I was ashamed I’d waited so long to finally ask. The truth was, even though fattening up was the last thing I wanted for myself, I was loving the process, it checked all my kinky boxes.

“Slow down your speech and make eye contact. Be polite. Try again.” My captor growled back at me before giving my vulnerable belly a little hearty slap.

Doing as she said, I tried again, “I just need to know why you keep fattening me up. This isn’t what I signed up for. I know the company reserves the right to change some things to make the experience more realistic, but this is a major change. I wanted to lose weight. Not gain it.”

“If you wanted to lose weight, why’d you list your goal weight as 350lbs?” My captor nearly laughed at my concern.

“I was too nervous to fill out the application sober! I was drunk! It was a typo! I wanted to lose 50 pounds, not gain 150lbs!! That’s crazy!” I gasped, while I felt a sinking feeling within the depths of my enlarged stomach.

“What’s crazy is that you’re only bringing this to my attention now. I’ve been fattening you up for almost three weeks. Why haven’t you spoken up until now?”

‘It’s only been three weeks???’ I thought to myself fearfully, “If I keep fattening up at this pace, I’ll be a blimp by the time they let me out of here!’

“I… I’m just…” I stuttered unable to voice the truth.

“Enjoying this too much? Piggy?” My captor teased, with a pinch to my love handles, “It’s okay, maybe this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s what you want now, yes?”

“I… I don’t know.” I managed to reply blushing fiercely.

“If you want me to stop, you have your safe word. Until I hear you say it. We continue. Piggy.” My captor laughed, as I realized something truly horrifying.

Falling into a deep silence, I weighed my options. I was being ruthlessly fattened up like a pig for the slaughter, but I actually kind of liked being completely submissive to my stern captor. The food, and the treatment I was receiving turned me on to no end. I realized then. It wasn’t my choice anymore. I’d lost control. I wanted more, regardless of the consequences.

The realization gave me peace and my silence gave my captor the answer she was looking for. From then on, if I ever tried to complain, it didn’t matter, any voice of opposition on my part was met with more food and electric orgasms, I was helpless to resist.

As my fattening journey continued, I often wondered if I had secretly wanted this. My fate  could have been the result of a simple typo, or something else deep within me that I might not have even known was even there. Despite my horror over the fact my body was being made to grow fatter each and every day, I was enjoying the process, the sex, the lack of control, even the food. The only thing I didn’t like was getting fat, yet here I was, much fatter than when I had started this experience and reluctant to resist what was happening to me.

As my gluttonous days continued to fly by, laziness, gluttony and sexual satisfaction won out over my worries, and I committed myself to seeing my experience through. My captor was stern yet was beginning to show a softer side to me. If I’m being honest, I was warming up to her in a big way. After a big meal, if I’d done well, she’d gently massage my swollen belly, and even reward my growing gut with kisses to help me drift off to sleep. The constant forced feedings swelled my stomach outward around my upper abdomen, but when the food settled, the newfound fat would accumulate around my lower belly and my expanding exaggerated pear-shaped frame.

I was growing heavier and softer all over. Ballooning in size would be an understatement, I was exploding outward in size. I was feeling fatter every day, and I’d lost track of time. It felt like weeks were going by, but I didn’t know, I just ate whatever was put in front of me and enjoyed all the attention my captor paid to me.

My belly was expanding into a globular shape, beginning to sink lower under its growing weight. My ass was growing into a plump rounded shelf, and my hips were softening and widening to the point it felt like the door to my bathroom was shrinking. My prison lacked any mirrors, so I couldn’t see my once thin face getting fatter, but I could feel a double chin starting to form, I could feel my arms, start to jiggle with excess flab, and I could unquestionably feel that my breasts were growing larger and more sensitive.

Months of inactivity and overindulgence were changing me drastically and the fact that I had no control over it continued to turn me on to no end. As much as I hated the knowledge I was being turned into a helpless heifer, I didn’t want this experience to end. I wanted my captor to continue fattening me and pleasuring me forever and ever. In my brokenly lustful brain, I decided I would try to grow so fat that the company I had hired to kidnap me, wouldn’t be able to remove me from my little slice of heaven without some serious help.

However, just as unexpectedly as my kidnapped journey had started, one day, I went to sleep in my prison and woke up in my townhouse. It was over…

Being back home, lying in my own bed felt like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. I was so hungry I could barely stand it. I called for my captor, I missed her, I needed her, but nobody came to feed me. I realized I needed to take care of myself for the first time in a long time and it felt horrifying. I wasn’t ready for my newfound fattening fantasy to end.

My bed was much softer than the bed I’d been confined to for the last three months. I sank into it so much that I couldn’t actually roll my inflated self out of it. I tried, you can be d*mn sure that I tried, but I couldn’t do it. So, I just lay there, accepted the stinging feeling of reality and thought about how I might turn back time.

Eventually, whatever tranquilizer they’d pumped me full of wore off, and I was able to regain my limited mobility well enough to charge my phone, and call Lindsey. She agreed to ditch her job, pick up a pizza and come over right away. I didn’t tell her what had happened to me during my experience, I wanted her to see for herself. She was my only hope at this point. Maybe I could garner some pity from her and convince her to help take care of me for a while?

Waddling over to my closet, I searched for clothes that would fit me now that I was so much bigger, but every outfit I tried wasn’t large enough to contain the girth of my gut or my butt. So, I settled on wrapping myself in a towel. Once upon a time, they were an adequate size for me, but not anymore. I had to hold the towel in place with my chubby arms, otherwise my expansive naked body would be on full display. The realization that I was going to need to order some clothes online for I left the house again was a hard pill to swallow. So, I waddled downstairs and rested my big butt upon my wide loveseat, it was just barely large enough to contain all my widened girth.

Within the hour, Lindsey arrived at my door with an excited knock, and yelled, “Marisa! It’s me! I can’t wait to talk details!”

I opened the door and noticed to my pleasure that my friend was holding not one, but five pizza boxes.

Upon seeing me, all 350lbs of me, Lindsey’s jaw dropped, “Marisa?? You’ve gotten sooo soffft! What happened?”

With a guilty smile, I could only respond, “I lost control. I think I’m gonna need your help taking care of me for a little while.”

“Sure, I’ll take care of you…” Lindsey promised, as a stern smile escaped from her lips, and she added in an all too familiar Eastern European accent, “By any means necessary, Piggy.”