The App #Maroonican - Real Wish to Slob!

maroonican asked:

I wish that I accidentally become and 800 pound middle aged smoker slob against my will

The App #Maroonican

That’s a brave wish. No accident’s there mate. You look at your phone screen as you enter your wish into the text box and hit send. You wait for a while, sat in silence, the screen still red and showing just your name and age. You start to look your body up and down, checking for even the slightest changes, but find none. Frowning, you start wondering if the app was even real. “This is silly, nothing’s gonna-!”

‘CLICK, CLICK’

The front door rattled, you slowly stand, walking around to get a view down the corridor. Watching in curious terror as the latch undid. Someone with a key, other than your only copy, was opening the door. A moment later, it swung open revealing a huge, beefy man in full construction gear. His muscles were huge and his skin was covered in dirt from working all day. In each hand he carried a large shopping bag, throwing them down as walked in. He stood up this full height “Ay baby, what you doing up? Thought we agreed you stay in ya chair” You try to answer back, tell this guy to get out, but you just nod slowly. He approaches, his musk is so strong you barely register as he places a huge, hairy hand onto your shoulder slowly turns you around, leading you back to the 2 seater sofa. Once seated, he pulls out a cigar and hands it to you. “Spark up, that’s an order babe” “I-I don’t-MUMPH” You struggle but he thrusts the huge cigar into your mouth, once there, you stop trying to talk back. Your lungs fill with the heavy smoke. “COUGH COUGH!” “Haha, you’ll get used to that, keep smoking” You do, you can’t stop. Your eyes water and your world starts to become hazy from the thick fog gathering around you. Your flat and clothes would stink like this, probably forever. You watch, smoking non stop, while the man unpacks milk, butter, lard, sweets and more in an almost endless supply he’d brought with him. He quickly threw a pile onto a tray and brough it through.

The tray was huge and so full of sweets, fast food and shakes that you doubt you could lift it. “Stop smoking man, eat” you immediately take out the cigar just before it hits the end and stub it out onto the sofa arm. Without a breath you take the nearest bottle of milk shake and start to down it. “MUMMMPH!” You strain to stop, even for a second to gain your barings but your wish was clear. Once you’ve downed one “Another, now” you drop the empty bottle and grab a burger, stuffing into your mouth as fast as you can. Huffing loudly as you feel a hot pressure building in your gut. The huge man walks behind the sofa and positions his arms around your sides. He sparks up his own cigar, his arms resting around over your shoulders, thick smoke bellowing from his mouth around your face and into your food. His heavy musk, his thick smoke and the stench of fatty food he brought for you blend together. You feel a twitch between your legs.

“Awe yeah-“ he growls into your ear, teeth gripping his cigar, all the while rubbing your gut as it expands under your shirt, unable to stop stuffing yourself. “Faster piggy” you speed up. Arms moving quicker than you can eat. Food misses and drips down your front. Your moobs began to flop sideways, your gut balloons outwards as your forced to reach further and further for the food. “Look at that belly, your gonna be massive and I’m gonna make you do it, you’d like that wouldn’t you” Mid way stuffing a doughnut into your mouth you nod mumbling mindlessly “Y-yes-s-sir” between swallows.

“You what? You don’t speak pig, you fucking oink!” and with one move he grabbed both his tits with his strong hands. Kneading and pulling them, stretching them even bigger before your eyes. “O-OINK!” You naturally squeal as you keep eating. “OIIIINK!” You try with all your might to say anything else, but needy sequals and guttural grunts are all that come out between bites. You gut keeps growing, your legs now being forced apart from the fat pad absorbing your dick. Your arms are heavy and you can barely sit up. “Good pig, here” and your feeder reaches past your huge gut with ease. He grabs the largest bottle, a 3 gallon tank of milk. He stands behind you to lift it above your head. “O-OINK!” you look up in horror but he doesn’t care “Open wide, do it bitch!” and you do. He lowers the keg, and opens the tap.

What follows is hours of feeding, smoking and eventually your feeder trying to find your dick as you struggle to move in your new chair home. You can’t sit up now, or move your arms far. Your gut it so huge and round it presses against you from all directions. Only able to oink, your new man provides everything you need and more. “Good boy” he says, dropping the last of the chocolate wrappers. “Smoke, all of these by the time I get back” He thrusts a 24 pack of XL Black Cigars onto the table, next to a 50Gram pack of baccy and skins. “When you smoked the cigars you smoke the baccy, you only fucking stop when I get back and tell you” You immediately grab the cigars and start to unwrap them. “Oink?!” you moan, questioning where he was going. “You need more food, and your gonna run our of smoke, gonna take your card and spent everything on it making your new life just the way you wanted it. Immobile fat slob, keep smoking until I get back” You do, you only ever do as your told now. He feeds you, forces you to smoke, when its all gone he gets more. Last weight check you were 600, but your hunky feeder said he had plans for 1000. “Eat, Smoke repeat! That’s your life now pig! Get the fuck to it”