hedonisticfeedee
County Fair
Published: October 31st 2019, 11:31:00 am
The County Fair
Please get help! I need to escape. Just look at me! I can’t keep living like this! Please don’t be scared or leave. Let me explain how I got into this situation. Well, listen to what I know anyway. I’ve tried to replay it in my mind several times. I want to make sense of the puzzle in my brain, but I’m missing a lot of details. Sometimes my mind makes up memories and then shuts them down. I don’t even know what the truth is anymore. Your brain does that when you’ve experienced trauma. You want to shut out the intense memories and replace them with better ones.
It’s also hard to know for sure when you’ve spent your life in solitude. The room I was kept in had no windows. It felt like a basement. Days melted into months and months into years. I have no idea what year it is. I have no idea what age I am, but I think I might be 24. I just don’t know anymore. I promise to tell the truth as much as I can. I won’t lie and say that some of the truth doesn’t excite me. It’s what I wanted, or at least what I thought I wanted. I wanted to be fat and now I regret every second of this hell.
In the spirit of honesty, I want to redact that statement. Fat isn’t accurate anymore. I’m what any doctor would call super morbidly obese. Class III obesity is a BMI of over 40 by medical standards. I don’t know how much I weigh. I mean, theoretically I would if I could look at the screen behind me. Can you tell me what it says now? I can’t get up or bend my neck. I haven’t gotten up in years. I’m pretty sure I heard someone say my BMI was close to 200, which theoretically means I’m close to 1300 pounds. It’s that same kid who threw pieces of funnel cake at me while taunting me about just how big I am. Everyone thinks this is for show. It’s not. I’m really this big. It’s not a fat suit. I’m not an animatronic.
I used to be fit; I swear I was a twink. Okay, so maybe I let myself go to 348 pounds by myself on accident. Well, maybe not accidentally, but I was curious and feederism was a turn on. He’s the one who took it too far. I was looking at stopping at 400 pounds. Don’t look at me so skeptically. I’m being honest, I didn’t do this to myself!
The thoughts keep coming back. Some time ago I spent $15 for parking and $20 for an all day fair pass. A total of $35 for this fate by some fucking psychopath with a fetish. Or is it Sociopath? I don’t know and I don’t really care.
As you know, the fair always opens on October 25th and leads up to Halloween on the 31st. I used to enjoy the fair as a child to ride the rides like the ferris wheel and the tilt-a-whirl. As I got older and heavier the rides became more uncomfortable for me to fit in until I outgrew them all. However, I kept coming back because I wanted to watch all of the different competitions: baking, pie eating, art making, and showcasing of the best farm animals. Most of all, I loved the fair food because each year I would get to try all of the strange concoctions sold during the fall.
Let’s be honest: fair food is my absolute favorite. The greasy, sugary, disgusting abominations that can be made and sold at events are the best. It’s like people test the limits to see what can be combined and deep fried. This type of food always made me feel good inside, but it also made me kinda horny. Shit, don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m not the fucked up one here. Yet, that’s how I met Nate, I mean Mr. Pravus. That’s probably how you know him, if you do at all. That is right! The Mr. Pravus, the man who bought the fairgrounds several years ago and build a red house on the epicenter of the property. I didn’t recognize him because we hadn’t met before, I just knew his name from passing. He worked one of the most depraved grease traps at the whole fair, Daddy’s Fryin’ Wagon, and I needed my fix.
He was really sweet at first and really sexy. He sported a coal colored crew cut. On his face he had a bold, short beard wrapped around from one ear to the other. I’d say he had four inches on me, making him around 6’2”. His height complemented his bulging muscles. I was only 25 at the time, while I estimated him to be 42.
“What can I get for you, big guy?” he asked with a smile as I made it up to the concession stand.
I looked at the menu with caution before ordering; it all sounded amazing. “I’d like to try one of those double bacon donut burgers and the deep fried milkshake bites,” I salivated at him. His smile and drawl made my knees weak. It could have also been standing in the heat with my knee and back problems.
I paid him the $10 for the fair food while leaning up against the counter. He seemed to have noticed how weak I was because he responded with “comin’ right up, big guy. You can go sit at one of them picnic tables over there and I can bring ‘em to you soon.”
I really couldn’t complain. I was flustered from talking to the handsome devil and he was making it easier on me, so I waddled to the table he pointed out. At that time I was probably around 412 pounds on a 5 foot, 6 inch body. I was always fat, but the last 100 pounds of that was slightly on purpose. Eating made me feel good mentally and the fat on my body made me feel good physically.
I sat down at the old table made of wood, the brown paint chipped after years of use. As soon as my hefty body pushed down on the seat, it groaned and sunk slightly under the pressure. My feet really needed the break, but the integrity of the seat made me nervous.
Two minutes later, the man came over to me with my order placed neatly on the tray. He was also carrying a tall glass of lemonade. He sat it down in front of me and said, “here’s your order.”
I was too excited by the greasy aroma of the burger to notice him staring at me at first. I grabbed the burger by the sticky donut buns and took a giant first bite. I put the burger down and moaned. He kept staring at me. When I glanced over at him our eyes met.
He was a real charmer. If our conversation took the form of text, he’d be the type to finish his sentences off with several kissing and laughing emojis. He had that cute southern drawl that he tried to hide behind a professional stature.
“Would you mind if I sit down with you? I need a break,” he said with his charm. I remember I blushed and nodded.
“Great! I brought you a sweet lemonade, just in case you told me no. A big guy like you needs to stay hydrated,” he said.
I mumbled “thank you.”
“I’m Nate. What’s your name, big guy? How’re you enjoying the fair this year?” he continued.
I take another giant bite of the burger. I didn’t know it would turn into a game of twenty questions. If anyone else were to ask, I would have told them to fuck off. However, Nate was just too handsome to ignore.
I swallowed my bite and gave him my name. I told him that the food was the best part of the fair and one of the only reasons I came because I couldn’t fit in the rides. Every detail enamored Nate. He could tell I loved eating and my size.
“I bet you love a man who will plow you while you eat,” he said with a mischievous grin.
I didn’t know how to respond. He hit the nail on the head, which caused me to blush. The whole situation seemed embarrassing and too good to be true. I should’ve known something was off. There’s no way he could have known how horny saying those things made me, but I ignored the red flag to flirt back.
“I’ve put on a shit ton of weight and it feels good. It is so good to feel helpless, but sexy. I’m just missing a chaser who wants all of this ass,” I said without realizing the gravity of the unfolding events. I thought it was just kinky talk from the vibes he gave me.
I shoved the burger in my face again. “No shit! Gaining weight on purpose? You’re the Ansel Adams of sculpting your body. Some, like myself, appreciate chunksters like you,” he replied with a grin.
“I like studs like you,“ I exhaled each word heavily as my member rose.
He got up from his seat and moved behind me as I ate the rest of my burger. The next moment I found him standing behind me. His hard abs and erection pushed into my back as he leaned forward to grab the milkshake bites. He pushed one of the bites in my mouth seductively. I chewed it as the sweet filling dripped on my taste buds living up to the name: they tasted like melted ice cream in a deep fried shell.
“I’m going to feed you the entire plate,” he whispered in my ear.
I looked around for bystanders. There were a few families eating at other tables and a couple of college fraternity brothers buying beer, but no one seemed to be paying attention to me being fed and fondled at the fair. Helplessly, I let him push bite after bite into my mouth. Each one burst flavors into my mouth revealing a chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla taste. I finished about twenty bites and inch forward to take a sip of lemonade.
“All gone, pig. I’ll tell you what, if you eat your way through the fair like the pig you say you wanna be, I’ll give you everything you deserve,” said Nate while giving me a wink.
The temptation was too great. I wanted him to bend me over and take me right there. I sighed heavily. “Do I really need to wait? Besides all that fair food will be expensive,” I replied back to him.
“If you want this, big boy, you’ve gotta earn it. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry about the cost. I get whatever I want for free. That’s the perks of owning the fairgrounds,” Nate said walking away.
It took a second for it to all click. This hunk of a man turned out to be Mr. Pravus. No one knew what he actually looked like. Some described him as an average executive business tycoon. Others denied this when meeting him and said he was more of a playboy type. Some said they met him and he was a much older man with gray hair and glasses. The last tale I heard was that he was a retired military vet turned into an average farmer. No one could peg what he looked like, yet there he was fulfilling my perverted fantasies and looking different than any rumor I had ever heard.
I awkwardly sipped my lemonade until his return. He brought back cotton candy in one hand and a caramel apple in the other. He handed me both while he went back for more. In fear of disappointing this beautiful man, I did everything my instincts told me to do, which was to eat for him. The cotton candy went down easy due to its melt-in-your-mouth nature, but I really struggled to get myself at an angle for the caramel apple. Making a mess was inevitable, caramel smeared around my chin and cheeks, but I was eager to be done before he came back.
He came and went several times, bringing me a new delicacy from each stand. I downed funnel cakes, deep fried pretzel dogs dipped in cheese, walking tacos, and even some of his own creations like deep fried butter. I shit you not, he thought it would be cute to try to deep fry a stick of butter. It tasted much better than it sounds.
Time slipped away until he gave me one last task. I was determined to get him in my pants at that moment. “Damn, Hoss. You look amazing bloated and covered in greasy residue. You’ve just got one more item to finish to get your prize,” he teased.
“Noooooo,” I frowned and groaned in protest.
“Don’t worry, big guy. It’s nothing that out there. Just a bucket of deep fried chocolate chip cookies.”
A very real fear of vomiting entered my mind. My belly ached from the amount of food forced in me already. It pushed out from under my shirt from the stuffing. If I had a response, I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize it because every time I opened my mouth, deep fried chocolate cookies were shoved into my mouth.
The more he tried to give me, the slower I chewed the treats. I chalked it up to wanting to savor every bite, but the reality of the situation indicated my belly wouldn’t be able to hold much more.
Cookie after cookie slide into me. It must have seemed effortless at first on his end because of my eagerness to please. However, about 12 cookies in I felt stuffed enough to burst, or at least get sick. I looked around again and no one noticed our public display. Since no one paid attention, I begged him to unbutton my pants. He refused and instead pushed more cookies in me. He wasn’t about to let me stop shoveling food cookies. I let out a burp.
“Let me help with that, babe,” Nate said in his sweetest tone. He lifted my shirt up to my bulging tits and massaged my belly in slow circles. His hands transferred an inhuman like warm energy. I ignored it because it felt phenomenal. He continued until the very last cookie made it into my bloated body.
After I swallowed the last cookie, he leaned into my plump body and brought his face up to mine. He pressed his lips against mine and they tingled. The tingle turned to a burning sensation across my lips. I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but his lips radiated just as much heat as his hands. Sweat formed on my forehead as I kissed him back and his tongue explores my mouth. I felt his crotch growing against my belly.
Then, a sudden exhaustion washed over me. I really thought it was just the fullness. I broke the kiss and drowsily tried to stand up. “Thanks for the meal. You’re really handsome, but I think I should be on my way home now. I’m so stuffed that I just need to find my bed,” I said. I remember I felt dizzy.
“Come back to my place, babe. I live here on the fairgrounds. We just have to make it into the house. I have a bedroom on the first floor,” he coaxed.
“I-I shouldn’t,” I protested with heavy breaths.
“You’re full and tired. You’ll never make it home safely. Just come with me. I know you want me by the way you look at me,” he whispered and brought me back into his kiss.
I smooched him back for a moment and finally broke the kiss before giving in. “Fine, take me back to your
My breathing grew even further labored as I pushed myself up from the table. He lured me along the dirt path to the house with white siding. I stumbled forward as if I drank too much alcohol, but he continued to lead the way while respecting my pace.
Together we entered the house, his warm hands in my back folds leading me to a door. I don’t remember too much about how the house looked when I entered it, but the house was perfumed with a fair food scent. I imagined this is where he tried to make new recipes.
He opened a white door at the end of his house. “Stairs? I thought you said this room was on the first floor” stumbles from my mouth as my legs lethargically stumble forward. “Are you trying to lock me in your basement?” I asked jokingly.
He didn’t deny it, but instead reframed the conversation. “It’s the closest thing I have to a guest bedroom. I’ll help you down the steps.”
I held onto the rail with one hand, my other arm wrapped around his shoulders as he helps me down each step. The room’s walls exhibited a calming blue wallpaper. Despite the cool colors, the room disseminated heat. The incredibly warm room caused the beads of sweat that formed on my head to roll down my face.
Another red flag should have been the bed he lured me into. I was too full and exhausted to consider why he had a California King bed held up by cinder blocks. The mattress all but invited me with the right balance of soft and firm with feather filled pillows and silk sheets. I flopped down on my back with a heavy grunt. My breathing caused my chest and belly to jiggle while rising and falling.
“Put your hands behind your head and let me blow your mind,” he commanded. My half conscious mind thought that he’d give me an amazing blow job after I met his demands. My heavy limbs swung back to the headboard of the bed and he took off my shirt and pants before I passed out.
I woke confused up in the same position I fell asleep in: flat on my back and my hands above my head. My brain spun as if I took a sedative. My whole world turned to black. At first I thought it was just really late at night before I realized a blindfold obstructed my eyes. I tried to move, but couldn’t budge my body. A velcro-like fastener wrapped around my wrists. A chain connected the cuffs to the bed frame leaving my body tethered to the bed. My rapidly beating heart and the rattling chains from my handcuffs were the only noises in the room. I couldn’t see it, but I felt some device strapped on my face keeping my mouth open. My screams were muffled against it. I tried everything I could think of to escape my fate. I wanted to kill Nate. How could he do that to me?
Before I could scream again, a liquid entered my mouth. In that moment, I realized the device on my face was a funnel. I tried to prevent the liquid from coming through the funnel, but the pressurized flow forced my mouth to accept everything poured into it. The disgusting taste became familiar. The thick slurry tasted oily and it had a gritty texture. I almost gagged at the flavor and chunks floating around when I figured out the taste. Nate kept dumping used fryer grease from his fair food stand in my funnel. Every time I wanted to throw up, the mixture pushed its way in my mouth preventing anything from coming back up. Some time later it was over, but it happened again and again. I lost track of time, but the funnel feedings happened frequently.
My skin violently stretched after every session. It felt like my stomach ruptured when I couldn’t take anymore; The pain of being full would be unbearable, my body would feel like an organ burst, and then the pain would go away, but I was still alive. Occasionally other parts of my body hurt too: legs, feet, heart, and lungs. This would happen several times per day, or at least I’m assuming per day. I couldn’t keep track of the time. It seemed to never end. Until it did.
One day the blindfold came off, but the funnel did not. I woke up after a feeding and I could see the blue wallpapered room again in the dark. Then, I looked down at my own body and attempted to gasp in horror. Before I met Nate I was big, but not this grotesquely obese. My whole body pushed out over the edge of the mattress. My belly was riddled with red stretch marks from gaining rapidly. They look like they could burst open at any moment.
My neck and chest wrestled against each other trying to choke me out. They probably would have won if it weren’t for the oxygen cannula serving as a referee. I noticed several other devices that were not around when I was pig-napped. The beeping I heard during feeding sessions came from a monitor behind me. I couldn’t see it, but I recognized little white electrodes stuck to my throw pillow sized tits. Some kind of catheter like device came out from my body at the end of the bed. An insulin pump installed on my expansive belly, where I believe my pancreas should be, but it would be incredibly hard to tell otherwise.
Nate entered the dark room, a red glow radiating around his body. My fat cheeks and massive belly in front of me hindered my full vision. Just looking at him made me angry. How did I think this man was sweet? I was too busy thinking with my dick.
“Don’t you just adore my work? Some might call me an artisan, my medium is oil, and you, my lover, are the product of my intensive methods,“ Nate said as he walked in to the warm basement.
I could’ve sworn his eyes turned red. He looked as handsome as ever, but I became angry at the sick pervert before me. I couldn’t do anything. My heavy legs prevented me from kicking and the funnel being filled with more oil muffled any screams. Every time I tried to yell my mouth filled with grease.
“It’s time to begin. We’ve been through several county fairs since I captured you. This year I want you to see how much disgust you provide others, the effect of your growing body on others. Tonight you get to see where you’ve been all along: My Hell House. There are others in different rooms who’ve also been tortured for their sins, but you are by far the best attraction. You’re also the sexiest, if I do say so myself. It’s such a shame this year will be the final year for you,” he laughed.
I whimpered as best I could through the funnel mask. Each day of the fair passed, but no one attempted to help me. Most guests didn’t believe I was a real man. That ones that did believe thought I did this to myself and therefore deserved to be anchored to a bed and humiliated. Sometimes guests would throw food at me. They’d tell me how disgusting I look and warned their children this is what all the fair food would do to them. I became the lesson for them all: over-consuming isn’t just a sin, it’s one of the seven deadly sins.
My round, bloated cheeks are stained red from my astronomically high blood pressure. My skin is lumpy with cellulite, cottage cheese dimples on my lower abdomen and my thighs. Other parts like my legs are hard and swollen from water retention. These are things I heard in passing from the guests.
I cry out for help, sounding more pig than human with grunts and oinks. If only I were in the pen for the hog growing competition I’d probably the fattest of them all. I’d be on my side behind a fence with a blue ribbon tied to it. The difference is that pigs are praised for their girth and fed to immobility for fun. I faced humiliation, and was subjected to wretched consequences.
Thankfully, now I have help! I passed out from the pain and woke up to you. My funnel is off of my face now and you’re here listening to my story! You can save me. Please take off my handcuffs and call for help! Get me out of here! This sick fuck is going to feed me to death.
The figure in front of me vanishes into thin air. I’m confused and scared. “Fuck! Come back!” I cry. I told my story and convinced myself that someone would save me. You were some kind of optical illusion.
A slow clap comes from behind the bed. Seconds later Nate appears on the side of my bed. “What a wonderful story you’ve told. It’s exactly how I remember it,” says Nate as he snaps his fingers. The blue wallpaper catches on fire and moves up the wall. The ashes fall from the wall, revealing a concrete and the room gets even warmer.
“What the fuck...,” strains my voice.
“Haven’t you figured it out, my pig? You’re literally sitting on a portal to hell. And I’m the demon that sat you there.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, in sheer disbelief at what he is telling me.
“I’ve told you before. You’re a sinner and must be punished for your gluttony. I’ve seen some real morbidly obese human pigs, but you take the cake, if you catch my drift,” he laughs.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” I shout.
“You can’t kill me. I’ve told you, I’m a demon. Shut up and listen. I was sent here to find depraved people and torture them until they eventually die. Then, they get sent to hell for even worse pain and suffering. I had to find one person who exemplified each of the seven deadly sins. I added you to my collection. When you walked up to my booth that day, I knew you were the one,” he paused.
“I didn’t have to do anything except make sure everything was in place. You were fat and enjoyed it before coming to the fair; The seed was planted within you way before I came along. I didn’t force you to eat all that disgusting fair food, I just provided incentive to pack it away. I didn’t force you to come into my Hell House. You more than willingly came in without questioning the potential consequences. Then, you were stupid enough to tell me that I had complete control. That verbal contract sold your soul to me. Humans orchestrate their own torture. It’s like you’re all designed to self-destruct and live slow painful lives while your bodies are taken over by disease. The human body is so fragile and the soul is so susceptible to sin. Sometimes it’s even better than demons just dragging you down to hell and going full force. You made this so easy for me. This whole thing has just been one colossal mind fuck for you, hasn’t it? Feel free to ask any additional questions.”
“Am I still alive then?” I ask.
“Not for much longer, but yes, your clogged heart is still barely beating. Once it gives out, this house will plunge down to hell and my mission will be over,” he replies.
“How much time has gone by here?” I ask as my second question.
“Time is such a silly social construct created by humans. Time exists and also doesn’t exist here. I guess if we’re trying to equate this to the Gregorian Calendar, you’ve been here gaining weight off of used fryer grease for three years.”
“F-fuck off,” I pant. “You won’t get away with this. I can still be rescued from this house.”
“That’s the thing. I will get away with it. There’s too many variables. First, even if someone reports that there’s a disgusting, dying half ton man at the county fair and you report me to the police, they’ll never find me. You’re only seeing me as you want to see me. I exist and don’t exist at the same time. You see me the way you do because that’s what you find sexy. That’s part of why it was so easy to seduce you. I look different to every single person who sees me. Second, you can’t walk up these steps by yourself if someone did try to help you. Third, I’m an immortal demon. No one can stop me. I’m starting to get a little frustrated with your attitude. I think Halloween night is the perfect time for you to go to hell,” the evil force I know as Nate tells me.
My body is the demon’s playground. We both know my human body won’t keep up for much longer. I can sense his sexual tension and urgency to make it all end because the end is just the beginning for me.
The demon of a feeder disappears under the reinforced bed frame. I come up with a not-so-bright idea. I try to bounce my body up and down as much as I can in hopes that the bed will collapse under my weight. If this works, my king size body will crush him flat. I don’t know how I’ll escape, but I’ll figure it out later. It’ll at least buy me some time. I realize it’s only wishful thinking as I try to arch my sweaty back folds like a sit up, something I’ve not done since high school, and bounce. My fat never leaves the mattress as I’m too heavy to even move the accumulated fat; my body leaves me anchored only causing a few fat rolls to sway back and forth. That much effort already drained my energy.
Then, I feel something long and hard digging through my wide and deep cheeks. A moan slips from my lips, but I turn it into a cough to disguise the fact that for the first time since getting snatched up, I’m becoming aroused. He said three years: 1,095 days since I’ve been able to eat something solid, get fucked, or cum. Despite the situation, I can’t help but need what he was doing to me.
He appears beside me again, but I still feel a length in me. I understand as soon as I feel the length pulse inside me. He uses a vibrating dildo by turning on the function controlled by a remote. I didn’t know that I could feel any less vulnerable than I already felt.
Nate unzips his pants and takes his shirt off. The tightness of Nate’s lower body highlights his arousal; his jock strap accentuates a bulge in the front and toned globes in the back. He climbs up on my poor, battered body of blubber, causing it to jiggle and move in waves like it is a deadly mountain with avalanches of flesh to be conquered. Once at the top, he sits on my aching diaphragm. His weight on top of my own large body pushes the bottom of my lungs like an industrial rolling pen, cutting my oxygen faster than the cannula can pump it into my overexerted frame.
“You’re going to love this, fat ass,” Nate sneers at me. The vibrator tremors deep inside me while my heart palpitates. I gasp as he turns it up a setting and my cock precums somewhere within my folds. He picks up a tray of of deep fried balls the size of my fat thumbs. “I’m experimenting on a new item to serve all of those tubby guests at the fair and wanted to test them on my resident lard dumpster. Eat or die! Well, I guess you’re going to die anyway,” he says as he gives me several units of insulin at once.
After administering a lethal amount of insulin, he turns back to the tray. The tray is full of light brown, golf ball-sized chunks sprinkled with powdered sugar on top. Nate shoves one under my nose. Somewhere under all the lard, my cock twitches at the sweet aroma before he puts one in my greedy mouth. I’ll admit that they are delicious. The puff erotically bursts in my mouth. The golden outside is crunchy while the middle is soft and creamy. I recognize the taste: deep fried cheesecake. I’m slightly fine with this because at least this time the food is more or less solid. It’s a treat and a relief considering I’m usually forced to drink used fryer grease straight from the grease trap of his stand. I greedily eat the bites hoping that my body will last another day.
He pulls his hard, 10 inch cock out of the jockstrap and pushes it into my mountainous chest. My breasts are big enough for him to do exactly what he wants: fuck them.
“You’re a fat filled freak! If you were going to last longer I might have turned you into a traveling sideshow across the globe. Your life and situation was carefully crafted by me. I have the power, my plump piglet.”
He moans in short pitches while feeding me more and fucking my tits. He continues: “Your legs are useless, but even if there was a chance you could roll your bulk off the reinforced bed, your heart would be too weak to survive the exertion of 12 stair steps. That’s right, there are only 12 stair steps between you and freedom. That’s significantly less than a stairway to heaven. I’m sure the wood would splinter underneath your heft.”
I gasp for breath between the deep fried food he shoves in my gluttonous mouth. I want to object, but I’m too exhausted to protest further. My begging and pleading always falls on deaf ears as he pushes me past my limits. There’s no way hell can be any worse. He turns the vibrator to the highest setting. My heart pounds harder and harder, struggling to pump blood through my arteries. My vision starts to blur and the room is burning up. My cock bursts with cum in my folds as my heart seizes up.
“P-please, no,” I gasp in a last ditch effort.
“Welcome to hell, hog,” he says as I black out from the pain.