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New Gainer Story: "The Garbage Man"
🕑 Added 2021-12-25 06:16:39 +0000 UTC"The Garbage Man"
by Lardfill, December 2021
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WARNING: Probably my most disgusting and extreme story yet. Dark and filthy themes and depraved plot.
Contains: Extreme weight gain, immobility, death, gunge, mess and filth, unhealthiness, forced feeding, and just some sick and twisted shit. If you get grossed out easily, you should probably skip this one. You've been warned.
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The Garbage Man
by Lardfill, December 2021
"This fucking pig!" Rusty, the garbage man, mumbled to himself as he threw open the lid of the black garbage bin that sat at the end of the driveway of a rusted mobile home.
This particular house always had a trash bin filled to the top with bags of junk food wrappers, fast food bags, countless food boxes and crushed soda bottles. The amount of food wrappers and garbage coming from this tiny house was disgusting, and Rusty couldn't help but wonder what kind of person ate so much fattening garbage every single week. Whoever it was, they had to be a massive pile of lard. Lard, incidentally, was always one of the many empty food package wrappers left in this household's garbage bags.
"Who the fuck goes through ten bricks of lard in a week?" Rusty said to himself as he emptied the bin in the back of the truck.
He was about to crush the load when he spotted a bag of papers. He removed it and tucked it into a safe spot so he could take it home with him later. He could make out hand drawn notes and what could possibly be crude artwork and this piqued his curiosity - he had to know who lived there and ate so much garbage. He didn't want to ask anyone about the person living there, even if they knew who it was, Rusty didn't want anyone to know that he was interested in this gluttonous person.
Rusty continued on his day, collecting trash in a rural farming area just outside of the city. He was a rough man, strong and hairy with a beefy masculine body that just seemed to ooze sleazebag. He wore mirror sunglasses, a well-worn old wife-beater undershirt as his only shirt, heavy duty work pants and steel toed boots. His company cap was faded and tattered on the edges, and he usually kept a toothpick sitting in his red bearded-lips all day. He had tattoos on his muscular arms, his skin was tough and browned by the sun after years of trash collection, spending four days a week driving his garbage truck, exposing himself to the elements repeatedly. He wasn't friendly, he wasn't "nice" and kept to himself to an extreme degree, living a lonely life without feel lonely at all.
He lived in solitude on the old family farm and kept around fifty hogs, twenty chickens, and a few cows. There was a big barn on the sixty acre property that cradled the edge of a wetlands preserve so he had total privacy and that's exactly what he wanted in life. He lived alone and kept to himself completely, a complete outsider to society with his only contact with others being the bags of trash that they produced. His father had been the trash collector in the area and he had passed on the family business and garbage truck to him when he passed away two decades ago. He had withdrawn from the world and grown strange over the years, finding the waste that people produced to be far more interesting than the people themselves. It wasn't until collecting the garbage bags full of vast amounts of fattening junk food wrappers from this particular house that Rusty actually found himself wanting to meet the person that produced it all. Week after week, his curiosity grew.
Empty pizza boxes, greasy buckets that once held fried chicken, various sticky cheese-spattered foil wrappers from restaurant deliveries and from cooking, burger wrappers, empty chip bags, endless dairy containers, food wrappers of all kinds, and a shocking amount of empty wrappers from butter and lard filled this person's trash. There were huge amounts of empty cream, milk, and soda bottles every week, and then there was the occasional scrap of writing, shopping list, or receipt that gave Rusty a deeper peek into this gluttonous hog's life. The amount of fattening food was staggering, and it appeared as though this blob of a human's entire life revolved around eating.
As weeks of trash collection continued, Rusty discovered that the glutton's name was Joe Gibbs, he was twenty-three years old, and he lived alone in the house, surviving of disability checks due to his obesity. Rusty also discovered that Joe had purchased himself three dildos and a funnel mask, finding the packaging in the trash, along with a crumpled up little doodle on a sheet of paper with a list of kinky toys he was considering buying online - pig masks, a full-body pig suit, vibrators, nipple pumps, and a "fuck machine". Rusty couldn't help but jerk off over all of the trash multiple times, picturing the kind of perverted fat slob that Joe Gibbs must be. It wasn't until Rusty was out feeding his hogs a bag of old donuts when he got an idea that gave him an erection that wouldn't end.
Rusty's garbage collection territory included one business district - a collection of strip malls that were on the edge of the sprawling farmland. He did his waste collection for these businesses late at night, about an hour after all the fast food restaurants, coffee shops, and the two buffets were closed. He often hauled out the bags of day-old donuts from the coffee shop to feed to his hogs. There was nothing wrong with them, and they disposed of their entire stock daily into a clean bag, so he never worried about contamination. The hogs loved them, and Rusty felt like he was doing good by preventing good food from being dumped in the landfill. The rest of the strip mall disposed of over one hundred pounds of food waste a day. The two buffets had a special dumpster for just unused food, throwing out ten full bags of perfectly fine food every day. The discount grocery store was the worst offender, though, dumping out a massive dumpster of expired food products weekly. He often brought home a bag or two for his hogs, feeling disgusted that society disposed of so much perfectly fine food. He stared at his fattest hog who was gorging on a pile of donuts and grinned.
"I'm going to need a bigger pig," he said to himself, his mind lost in a fantasy.
ONE WEEK LATER
Joe Gibbs woke up after a long night of feasting on a bag of greasy triple cheeseburgers and a large pre-bedtime mixing bowl full of instant mashed potatoes, gravy, with a full brick of lard and butter stirred in so it became a fatty slop that easily poured down his throat. He was groggy and bloated, letting out a long belch just seconds after waking up. He laid in bed with his eyes closed, feeling the weight of his body force him down heavily in the mattress. He was approaching six hundred pounds quickly and had been pleased with his rapid weight gain lately. It had only been a year since he moved into his uncle's old house after it was left to him in his will, and that year was spent living out a lifelong fantasy - to grow as fat as he possibly could.
Joe had wanted nothing more than to become too fat to walk since he was a kid, but had never been able to follow his dreams, working in the family business back home in Florida. He had hated it there and couldn't get out from under his family's thumb, but then his severely obese uncle passed away and left him everything. Joe had been the only family member who had treated him with respect and the two had written each other letters over the years where Joe had confessed to him that he was probably going to end up as big as him, and that he wanted it. Then, after his funeral, the will was read and Joe was handed a private letter from his deceased nearly-immobile uncle that told him to follow his dreams, leaving Joe his small rural house half-way across the country, along with $575,000 in savings to fatten himself with. Joe left town as soon as he could, moving into the small run-down house and cutting ties with his entire family. He would become the fat pig that he had always dreamed of being, but Joe never realized how much of a pig he would become.
Joe swung his leg over the edge of his bed but felt resistance. He furrowed his brow and opened his eyes slowly to see what was blocking his leg and was immediately snapped wide awake when he realized that he wasn't in his house. He wasn't even in his bed, instead finding himself in a large rubber hammock, like a livestock harness, suspended by four heavy metal chains that connected up to the corners of the ceiling of the small room. The walls were cement, the floor was cement and sloped just slightly towards a metal grate that ran down the middle of the room towards a wide metal double doorway. On the opposite wall to the double door was another metal door, but it was normal width and maybe too narrow to fit through. He tried to look at what was holding his legs in place, but he could see over the curve of his belly that nothing was restraining them. His arms weren't restrained either but there was very little that he could do with the heavy black rubber tarp cradling him in place, pinning him down simply by gravity pushing down on his soft doughy body. After managing to shift a leg briefly, he realized that there were was nothing he could do - he was just too heavy and soft to shift his weight out from the slight cradling slope of the rubber sheet.
On the ceiling, directly above Joe, was a square metal hatch doorway, and running along the side of the room was a few pipes that connected down to a large fire hose that was coiled up in the corner of the room. There was a single light bulb in the opposite corner of the ceiling that sent a harsh light down across Joe's mammoth naked body. He had no idea where he was and didn't know how he got there. Who would've brought him here? Why was this happening?
"Hello?" Joe called out, unsure if he wanted to hear a response.
There was a muffled sound of footsteps above him and then a squeak of metal as the trap door ten feet above his head opened. Joe looked up to see Rusty's grinning face peering down at him but he didn't recognize his face - hardly anyone would. He called out for help but suddenly it began to rain pies and cakes, followed by a torrent of spaghetti and meatballs, and then globs of macaroni salad. The food kept raining down without rhyme or reason. Fried chicken, cake, risotto, brownies, chicken salad, gravy, scrambled eggs, french fries, beef stroganoff... it was nearly an hour of constant food dumping down onto him, piling up in the suspended rubber hammock like it was a giant bowl. Joe was disgusted at first, but it was less than three minutes before he has begun to eat the food that was dropping down onto him. It was delicious and he couldn't help himself.
The food stopped falling once the rubber hammock was filled with a gelatinous pile of foods, like a giant sloppy mountain of food. The weight of it on top of Joe made him horny, despite of the fear over his unusual situation. The messy slop had buried his body, oozing down around him and making him feel like he was part of the giant mass of food. He scooped handfuls of the mess up to his mouth and swallowed. He gulped it down without question, his animalistic hunger overpowering his conscious and his worries. He couldn't help but gobble down more and more until all the food that was within his reach was in his belly. He swiped the mess from his bare skin and couldn't resist the urge to buck his hips against the weight of the remaining pile that remained on his groin. His tiny fat-buried cock throbbed as he felt gravy and grease trickle into his fat pad hole, the weight of the warm, wet food pushing down with just enough force to put resistance and friction on the one inch of fat-encased cock head to make him orgasm. He moaned loudly as he blew a load of cum into the pile of food that was had been eating from. His belly was full but he wanted more.
As Joe waited for more food to fall, Rusty peered down through the hatch door that was built into a special work station sink that he had installed to dump food into. He was very pleased with how immediately that Joe had begun eating the food he had dropped down onto him. Rusty had watched as Joe humped at the pile of food on top of his flabby obese body and he knew that he had made the right decision to bring Joe Gibbs to his farm. He would make an excellent pig and would dispose of all of the waste food that was being discarded in the area.
Rusty had set up a special deal with the strip malls, providing them with new large bins to safely and securely dispose of all the un-bought waste food. He was averaging 200lbs of waste food a day, all for free and done honestly, informing the restaurants that all the food would be fed to his hogs as a green way to help cut down on landfill waste. They were generous with the food - if only they knew that the hog they were feeding was human.
At the end of Joe's first day in captivity, Rusty had dropped two hundred pounds of food onto him from above and Joe had consumed nearly twenty pounds worth of it. He was covered in a sludge of food, his tiny nub of a cock soaking in three loads of cum, his entire body embedded in food. Rusty entered the cement room wearing a full body rubber jumpsuit, his waste management company hat on, smoking a cigarette as he walked silently over to the double doors and pulled up a steel slot along the floor where the metal grating and gentle slope to the floors lead to. The smell of wet grass and a cool breeze drifted into the room. Rusty then walked over to the large water hose and turned a knob, making the pipes above creek a little as the hose inflated with water.
Joe watched from the rubber sling, too scared to say anything. He wanted to ask why he was here. Why was there food being dumped on him? What was happening? By the way that Rusty was looking back at him, Joe figured that asking wouldn't lead him to any answers... the man was eyeing him like a wolf looking at a helpless juicy pig. He watched as Rusty opened a panel door in the wall where a narrow closet held a bucket, several bottles and a selection of clean shammy clothes and towels. He watched as Rusty grabbed the hose and turned the nozzle, pointing it at the floor first to adjust the flow and let the water get warm.
"Ready, pig?" Rusty said with the cigarette lodged in his lips.
Before Joe could prepare himself, Rusty aimed the hose at him and began spraying. The water was pleasantly warm like in a shower, and he could feel the sticky mess of congealed food washing away and slipping through the slats in the rubber hammock. Globs of food washed away and fell to the floor, slipping through the grating and washing out in the underlying trench that led outside, pouring directly into the long deep trough in the pig pen on the other side of the double doors. Once all the waste food had been hosed away, Rusty turned off the hose and walked over to the double doors where the faint sound of grunting hogs could be heard, and he pushed down the handle he had opened earlier, closing the slot on the floor so the room stopped draining into the pig trough, and then pulled up another metal handle that directed the drain into the regular house plumping so it flowed into the septic tank.
Rusty filled a bucket with warm water and then squirted a thick glob of antibacterial soap into it, mixing it so it became thick and frothy. He began gently washing Joe's soft lard with a soapy shammy cloth, taking time to get into every roll and fold, running his rough hands over Joe's sloppy loose fat that felt softer than anything Rusty had ever felt in his life. It was so heavy and expansive but also so delicate. He licked his lips and pinched the tubby glutton's plump nipples, pulling on the fleshy chest to see how it stretched and then flopped back to place.
"Why am I here?" Joe asked, trying to cover up the moan that had escaped his mouth as Rusty tugged on his tits.
Rusty didn't say anything but he immediately turned his attention to Joe's cock, pushing his soapy fingers into the hole in Joe's fat pad so he could see if he was horny. His fingers slipped over Joe's erection and he began to chuckle to himself as he kept slipping his soapy fingertips over the nub of a tiny cock head that was buried in the hole. Joe squirmed and tried to stop himself from moaning but couldn't contain himself for long before squirting out a pathetic load of cum. With his guts stuffed full of food, Joe began getting uncomfortable, needing to ask another question that he was too scared to ask.
"I need to... you know..." Joe said, blushing and tearing up as Rusty slowly stroked and played with Joe's soapy mass of underbelly and thigh fat.
Rusty raised an eyebrow and grinned, looking down at the floor before simply saying, "...then, you know..."
Joe looked around and shook his head 'no'. He needed to use the washroom so badly, he had already pissed himself while buried in the food pile, but now he needed to empty his bowels and didn't know how. He could feel his ass hanging out from the slats in the rubber hammock but he couldn't just let himself go, especially with his captor in the room.
"Do it before or after I wash you, it's up to you," Rusty shrugged.
"Please, let me out," Joe pleaded.
"You're a pig, you need proper care," Rusty said, soaping up Joe's underbelly fold and massaging his guts slowly as he washed the deep fold.
"You can let me go and I won't say anything, I promise.. I'll just-" but then Joe's words were interrupted by a deep wet fart that he had been trying to hold back. "Please, hurry, I need to go!"
"I'm not letting you go," Rusty grinned, rocking Joe's nearly 600lb body with his hands pushing into his underbelly.
Joe grunted and moaned, feeling the massive load inside of him push further and further towards the only way out. Joe was panicking, he couldn't hold it in any longer and began to cry as he lost control and felt the twenty pound feast that he had gorged himself on slide out of his ass and fall heavily to the floor.
"You're never getting out of here, pig," Rusty whispered with a sneer before turning the hose on and washing away the oversized log that had been birthed from his new livestock.
Joe couldn't say anything, feeling his cock twitching to life again. He had no idea why, but he found his current situation intensely sexual. He felt disgusted and powerless, but had never felt such a rush before. His cock was oozing pre-cum as he lay silently, completely defeated, and Rusty washed his ass crack with a new mop head on a pole like he was some kind of animal. Rusty spent an hour inspecting Joe's body, studying every stretch mark and crease, probing every fold and hole, giving him a deep scrub and then rinsing him off before drying him with towels and applying powder in his folds. He even clipped his nails and tended to the dry skin on his feet. Joe had never felt more pampered in his life, despite the dire situation that he was in. He fell asleep while Rusty rubbed lotion into his skin and massaged his soft lard belly.
He woke up the next morning to the sound of the metal trap door squeaking and then a breakfast buffet rained down on him. Trays worth of scrambled eggs, ham slices, sausages, buttered toast, porridge, waffles and pancakes dumped down on Joe's body. Then the trays of Chinese food began to fall, and the mashed potatoes, and buttered corn kernels, and a dozen trays worth of day old bakery items began to drop down, immediately covered in copious amounts of fried rice and Swedish meatballs in sauce... it didn't stop raining down for forty five minutes. There was one huge pile of food after another, and Joe found himself racing to eat as much of one thing as possible before the next thing began to rain down. He felt his dignity and humanity slipping away in embarrassment when, at the end of the dumping, Joe kept gorging on the mixture of foods as they combined into a messy slop. It was a disgusting mess of so many different types of food but it was warm and fresh and it was either eat it now or let it just sit on top of him and cool down so it was practically inedible. Joe had zero will power to stop himself and he was starving to fill his belly, so he ate.
Hours passed and he had once again eaten out a large crater in the food pile, eating everything within arm's reach. He was bloated with food and groaning to himself as he ran his sloppy hands over the slippery expanse of his food-smeared flab. Suddenly, the hatch opened and immediately began dumping a giant torrent of pulled pork in a tangy sauce. Thirty pounds of it slopped down heavily, filling in the entire area that Joe had just eaten away, bringing the pile back up to his chin and almost pinning his arms in place. Creamy scalloped potatoes and macaroni and cheese casserole began dumping down, and Joe began to fear that he would drown in the growing pile of slop, so he sucked at the lip of the growing pile in an attempt to swallow enough to keep from being buried.
Five sheet cakes dropped down and caused the pile to melt down to Joe's mouth, literally forcing the cake into his mouth. He furiously chewed and swallowed, eventually bringing his arms up to the surface to push food into his mouth. He needed to make more room inside of his stomach and stopped holding in the building mass of waste in his colon. He didn't have time to worry about dignity or humanity this time, he needed to make room for more food or else he might not survive the night. He pushed his mouth full of the mixture of foods, forcing it down his throat as he felt himself push out the previous meal underneath of the rubber harness with the same force. As if to respond to his animal-like behavior, more food began to rain down as a reward... piles of muffins and chicken wings, gravy and several hams landed heavily, spraying out food and making impact craters in the slop. Melted ice cream poured down next -ten gallons of it.
Joe was like an animal, racing to diminish the sloppy three hundred pound pile of food that buried him. He loudly slopped and gobbled at the food, not caring what he was eating. Each mouthful was different but there was no time to savor any one flavor, he just had to chew and swallow. The mixture was delicious to him and he couldn't stop, in more ways than one. Hours passed and more food rained down. He kept gorging the entire day, enough to fill and empty his guts five times before Rusty finally came downstairs and into the room to clean and inspect his pig.
"Day two and you've already decided to drop this human 'act' that you've been doing. It's good to see a pig learn his place so quickly," Rusty said, blowing cigarette smoke into Joe's face. "Let's get you cleaned up."
They repeated the process from the previous night, washing off the remaining slabs of the food pile and rinsing it away into the drain and out into the pig trough where the hogs would devour it quickly. He then soaped him up again, taking time to caress and pleasure Joe, diving his fingers into his fat pad and also spending some time fingering his asshole, pushing his whole fist into the tight hole, making Joe squeal like a pig while he forced his hand in deeper. They did this every night, and it didn't take long for Rusty to start seeing changes in his captive hog's body.
The endless feasting all day and complete lack of exercise had caused Joe to balloon in just two weeks. He was gaining at least five pounds of pure lard every day, and as his capacity expanded with the forceful eating, so did the calorie counts. He was eating like a pig, keeping his belly full from the second that the food began to fall until the end of the day when Rusty would enter the room to hose him down. Each day, the blob of soft fat that was unearthed from under the slop pile was bigger and hungrier. He had grown from 580lbs on his first day to 650lbs by the end of week two. He was riddled with stretch marks that outlined the constant round bulge of his upper belly, while the rest of him was filling with delicately soft lard that hung low and spread wide in all directions.
After only two weeks, Joe's mind had begun to slip into an animal-like state where his survival was tied to his over-eating. If he didn't eat like a wild animal, he would be buried in the ever-growing food pile and drown in it, so all he could do was try to keep the food pile inside of his body as much as he could. He couldn't let it pile up and threaten his life. He needed to gorge and stuff his fat face as much as he could. There was no time for anything else and it was all he could think about. The strange part for Joe was that once he was washed up and given time to sleep without being buried in food, all he could think of was that hatch opening up. He dreamed of that beautiful squeaking sound of the hatch door opening and lusted over the piles of food that would drop down through it.
Rusty couldn't have been happier with how quickly Joe had accepted his new life. He didn't even struggle. He truly was a hog, and this made Rusty sure that he had done the right thing. Everyone was happy and he wasn't doing anything wrong - he felt good about locking Joe away and putting him into a life that better suited him. Joe was a born pig and Rusty was the farmer that he never realized he needed. He dumped a weekly treat for Joe down into the hole with a smile - 100lbs of rendered pork lard from one of his hogs that he had slaughtered. The white greasy slop poured down and flowed all over the pile of food that was burying Joe and he watched from above as Joe sucked the lard down like he was drinking soup from the lip of a bowl. He sucked down the slop of lard along with any globs of food that were caught in its flow, loving the taste and feel of it as he consumed the lard from an entire hog and transferred it directly over to his own body.
Weeks passed in a blur and Joe had become unrecognizable. He was defeated and owned, his mind a slush resembling the pile of food that buried him daily. There was no humanity left, he was entirely a hog now, and he already had stopped thinking about the world outside of his small feeding room. His mind had been corrupted and destroyed while his body swelled with new lard constantly, and he had embraced every second of it. The endless food was his biggest fantasy come true, and his spiraling fate played right into that, tugging at his libido and pulling him in deeper and deeper. He wanted more and more food and nothing else. It drove him wild with lust and greedy for more. Even when there was a revoltingly huge pile of food crushing him, he secretly wished more would dump down so he would be forced to eat for his life.
His cock was now so deeply buried that nothing was left but a hole - he no longer had a penis, the pig lard had swallowed it so deep that it could never push out from its depths. Rusty fingered the hole which had gobbled up Joe's cock, but he was no longer able to stroke the shaft and head because they were basically internal organs now. He had begun to enter the feeding room naked, armed with a raging erection, and would climb up into the harness with Joe, sinking into the pile of food so he could fuck him at his most disgusting point in the day. He would sometimes fuck him in the fat pad hole, but more often, he would simply sink into the mess of food and lard and fuck wildly at the blubbery mess before cumming and adding to the slop.
Night after night, week after week, Rusty could feel Joe growing and each time he fucked him, he could feel the uncontrolled expansion beneath of him. Joe filled more of the livestock harness, his legs completely useless from the rapid gains and shriveling muscles while his arms were quickly heading in the same direction - barely used and piling on the hefty weight of buttery soft fat at an alarming pace. His belly pooled deep between his legs and his chest had grown so much that they pushed back into his double chin. He hadn't even tried to escape the slight incline of the harness - something that Joe thought he would've at least attempted to do at least once.
At almost nine hundred pounds, Joe marked his two month anniversary in the feeding room. Rusty had slaughtered and roasted five hogs for the occasion, dumping nine hundred pounds of pulled pork mixed with enough lardy pork gravy to make a wet mountain of slop. It poured down and surrounded him, waking him up with a splattering of delicious savory gravy and tender, melt-in-your-mouth pork meat. He frantically gobbled it down, opening his mouth and catching globs of it in his mouth as it fell and pushing fistfuls of it into his mouth. The growing pile of pork slopped down over his flesh and began marinating him in its juices. He ate all day as the pork slurry poured down over and over, eventually piling up so high that he simply had to open his mouth and let it pour in. He stopped chewing and just began swallowing, like he was trying to drink an entire pool.
Joe didn't know it since he had no concept of time or ability to tell what time of day it was, but the pork feast lasted for three days straight. He consumed all nine hundred pounds of pork and gravy, with fresh warm batches being dumped in hourly. He ate until it hurt and then kept eating, taking no time to notice when he emptied his bowels or drained his cock. He had even cum a multitude of times during the three day-long feast but hadn't noticed - he was too busy focused on eating to worry about anything but keeping up with the steady pace of swallowing. He didn't even realize that he hadn't slept in three days but by the time that he was finished the pile of pork, he was unable to even form words when he tried to thank Rusty for the delicious fresh food.
"Spurrr... blat..." the non-words bubbled from Joe's mouth before a powerfully deep belch erupted from his mouth. "uhhhhm..." he mumbled, his eyes rolling back into his head as he passed out from exhaustion.
"Good pig, good pig..." Rusty whispered, stroking Joe's bloated fat cheek and neck, rubbing behind his ears and in places that he knew that Joe couldn't reach on his own anymore.
He used the greasy mess of gravy that covered Joe to finger his fat pad hole and cause a hot eruption of cum to bubble up from the depths as he snored loudly. Rusty washed him clean and cared for his stressed and stretched skin, gently tending to any redness or burdened stretch marks to prevent it from growing inflamed. He needed his pig to be able to keep stretching without issue. He kissed Joe on the lips as he slept, kissing down over his clean blobs of a chest flesh, sucking on the nipples and able to smell that the spices from the pork had soaked into his skin. He cradled in next to Joe and began to gently hump his swollen hip, his cock finding a deep crevice where Joe's ass fat reached around from his behind. He needed him fatter. It was all happening so quickly that he knew he could double this pig's weight before his body realized what hit it and became overcome by the stress of all the new lard.
The next month went by in a blur of food, more and more each day as Rusty's hog-food donations began to come in from other restaurants who wanted to help. Ten more restaurants, including three other buffets outside of his trash collection area had offered to donate their waste food to feed Rusty's hogs, and the results were outstanding. Joe was kept at an eat-or-drown level of food, his capacity and drive to eat growing in response as the food intake doubled, and then tripled. Food had begun to pour over the lip of the rubber harness tarp, keeping Rusty at a point where he could only open his mouth and let the slop flow into his body. He had no other choice. Every hour, the food would pour down for at least ten minutes, making it impossible for him to keep up with the pace, and driving him to go nearly mad with the wild appetite that both kept him alive and buried him deeper in the pile of lard that would drown him from the inside. He was doomed no matter what he did, but he chose to keep this disgusting life going as long as he possibly could. He needed more, lots more.
One thousand pounds passed by in a flash, and 1200lbs came faster than expected. Rusty found more and more donors for his "Feed the Hogs" cause, quadrupling the amount of food he collected in the next month. The harness was kept overflowing and Rusty often would skip the nightly wash-up so Joe could keep eating. He ate as long as there was food, and so Rusty kept dumping food in. Joe filled more and more of the harness with his own body as the weeks passed, but it was when Rusty was offered the daily waste fryer oil from a local chain of fast food burger restaurants when the next level of Joe's fattening began.
Joe woke up with a thick tube that filled his mouth and throat and ran down into his stomach, which was so swollen and full that he could barely concentrate. He moaned and snorted, and felt a heavy sludge of greasy goop push slowly down his throat, keeping his belly so full that it had no choice but stretch and grow to accommodate the constant pressure. The fryer oil filled two large drums and since the burger chain used a 50/50 blend of vegetable oil and lard, the mixture was partially congealed and resembled a caramel-tinted pudding. This fatty oil slop was the perfect consistency to flow down the garden hose-sized tube and this method of feeding quickly became their new tradition for Wednesdays. It was time for Rusty to show his pig how much more he needed to eat while also giving him a break from the exhausting effort of swallowing all that food by himself. Rusty was in complete control, and he had no limits to how fat his pig would grow.
The days that followed the tube-fed oil and lard slop regimen were extra hard on Joe. He felt exhausted and greasy, like the fryer oil was seeping out of his pores. He could smell it all over him like it had soaked into every inch of his body, and it had. Rusty was so pleased with the results of their Wednesday tube feedings that he began draining the oil and lard mixture down the trap door with all the other food, soaking it into every bit of food that was dumped down the hole and running down the slopes of the food pile like rivers. Joe slopped it all into his mouth, mindlessly eating because it was all he knew how to do now. There was no escape, his body was never going to allow him to do anything but grow more lard - and the amount he was growing was skyrocketing daily.
Months passed and Joe had lost his ability to move his arms or fingers. His neck was locked in place and he resembled a blubber-filled balloon, stretched to its limits. He was frequently passing out and sleeping for an entire day and when he was awake, he was barely conscious, his mind not churning out a single thought for hours at a time. He was gasping for air and had no control over his body. His fat folds were getting too deep and his gigantic bloated rolls kept Joe's frame suspended in soft, constantly-overheating lard while also crushing his lungs and making his oversized heart pump frantically. He was strained to his absolute limit. Joe's lengthy sleeps were causing the food to back up, and Rusty no longer had the luxury to stretch out the length of time he dropped food down the hole - now he just dumped as fast as he could to empty the room of the bins and barrels he had brought home.
Joe wasn't the only one getting overfed - Rusty's hogs outside had grown enormously fat from all the waste food that was rinsed into their trough. They had grown so heavy with lard that their bellies dragged on the ground and their appetites had swelled just as large. He planned to enter the heaviest ones in the state fair agricultural show, and would use the others to make rendered lard. There were several pregnant sows to replenish the passel of over-fattened hogs, and Rusty was happy to see all the garbage food getting such a productive afterlife.
The piles of food being dumped down on his personal hog were growing massive, and with Joe's body now filling the entire rubber hammock, he now found himself fighting the growing pile with more urgency than ever. The curved rise of Joe's belly sent the food pooling out horizontally, and his giant flabby tits just funneled the onslaught of fatty slop directly to his face. He opened his mouth and let it pour in. He couldn't move his arms from the massive weight and deep folds that locked his limbs in place, so the pile of food melted down to his face without any way of controlling the flow. He was at the mercy of Rusty, and Rusty wasn't showing any mercy in his feedings or his care over Joe's health. He wasn't going to survive this lifestyle much longer, and Rusty decided to end it all in the most fitting way possible.
To mark the one year anniversary of Joe's captivity, Rusty started the day early by starting to drop food down the hole but the flow was a torrent and it didn't stop. Joe was too large to weigh, but he had to be the fattest man to ever live, by a large margin - if you could call him a man. He was just lard now, a hole endlessly sucking down food, growing bigger, and almost constantly dumping waste out below. He was barely even a mammal anymore - animals had thoughts and personality, but Joe just stared ahead blankly, his eyes almost pushed shut by the swelling fat that filled his face, not a single thought running in his brain.
The food rained down for hours as Rusty dumped bin after bin, barrels and drums of oil and lard, piles and piles of food that grew in layers over Joe below. He was gulping down a river of sludge when he heard the pile begin to slop down onto the floor below, but the food kept pouring down from above. Hours passed and the pile had continued to slop over the sides of the harness and piled up on the floor below, along with a growing pile of turds that kept growing in massive heavy dumps that occurred every thirty minutes.
The food didn't stop. Joe had never experienced this before and had fleeting moments of fear as the pile on the floor began to spread out to accommodate the constant flow. It was only after twelve hours of a steady pour of food that it finally stopped. The pile on top of his belly spread out wide, sloping all the way down to the floor where it had spread out six feet in all directions around him. The weight of it was crushing, and he struggled harder than ever to pull in enough air to stay conscious, but he passed out from exhaustion after the slop stopped flowing to his mouth. He was caked in the mass of food - his face poking out from a congealed slurry of gravy, mashed potatoes, fryer oil, cheese, and a random assembly of foods that had been caught in the flow.
Rusty didn't come downstairs to wash him off. He woke up still buried in the pile of food as it began raining down again after only an hour of sleep. The flow of food was the same as the day before, but this time there was already a pile of food waiting below the trap door so the situation escalated much faster than usual. Joe woke up to a sludge of cake and pies pushing into his mouth as Rusty began the dumping with a bakery's donated waste food. He sucked at the mass of pastry and cake, happily gorging on the delicious sweet slop. Then the burgers and hotdogs and nacho cheese started raining down... and then all the mixed foods from the buffets. The pile kept growing and Joe couldn't stop eating it or else it would bury his face within seconds.
The food pile was touching the walls and pooling over the entire floor to almost a foot deep, and the mountain of food that Joe was trapped in towered six feet above him, with one of the rivers of food flowing down to his mouth like a glacier making its way to the sea. Rusty only let him sleep for another hour before starting the dumping up again. He had enough food to keep up this pace of dumping for two more days, but he wanted to end this in just one day. This third day of building the pile of garbage food was going to be intense and Rusty was fully prepared for it, but he doubted that Joe would be prepared for what was coming to him.
Five drums of fryer oil and lard poured down, one after another. The heavy pour of oil split the mountain of food and caused it to slip down like a landslide. Joe's face managed to be missed by the flow, but then the food began to pile up fast, with less and less of a slope to carry it away down to the floor, the food piled up high and grew increasingly unstable. Joe left his mouth open and swallowed, barely taking time to chew unless a large piece of food like a burger or a slice of pizza was carried with the stream of slop into his waiting mouth.
A few hours into the rain of food, Joe felt something under him, gently pushing back at his ass cheeks that hung out of the hole in the rubber tarp that let him shit freely. He didn't even realize that he had just taken a massive shit, but the pile under his ass had grown so large over the last three days that there was no room left under him for it to all go. He kept gulping down food, there was nothing else he could do. The room was filling up, three foot-deep with a sludge of food, and it would soon be at the level of his body, leaving no room for the food to go.
Rusty emptied seventeen white plastic drums of potato salad and twenty drums of macaroni salad that were donated by a local wholesaler. They were enough to cause the room to fill to the point where the food sludge began to encroach on Joe's face from all angles. His body was fully surrounded by food and waste and the food kept pouring down. Rusty didn't stop, dumping fifty bags of food from bakeries, coffee shops, restaurants and fast food places. Barrels of lard slop poured down, followed by a large batch of beefy stew and fried rice. He hadn't even taken time to look down the hole into the room to check on Joe for three hours until he finally took a break to rest his muscles and chug a gallon of water.
He looked down the hole and didn't see anything but food. He focused and stared for a minute before finally spotting a hole in the sludge where a sloppy flow of comfort foods was pouring in from all sides. It looked like a drain in the mess of garbage, but Rusty knew it was Joe's mouth, still sucking in food. Occasional sputters and bubbles of air blew the wet slop away from his nose and mouth, but the mass of food kept falling in towards the hole. Joe was doomed now, even if Rusty stopped dumping food, but this only fueled his desire to dump more.
Dripping with sweat all over his naked body, Rusty shoveled food down the hole with passion, spending the next six hours dumping enough waste food to feed a whole city for a night. Joe gurgled and struggled to keep swallowing, but the flow was increasing and he couldn't find a pace of eating that allowed him to breathe enough. He moaned and groaned, food flooding into his mouth, tasting like a slurry of all his favorite meals, and he kept swallowing, making it his priority over breathing, causing him to gulp down slop for as long as he could before taking a quick gasp of air in the fraction of time before the food poured over his face again. He would blow out that single lungful of air to splatter away a crater long enough to take in another breath and then open his mouth to drain more food into his belly.
He couldn't tell where his body ended and the food began - it was all part of the same sloppy mass of garbage now. He had to strain to push out his the next log of shit since there was no room left for anything to go. His piss flowed out too, draining down somewhere into the wall-to-wall sludge. The room was five feet deep in garbage now, and the hole to his mouth grew deeper and deeper, building up wobbly walls of partially solidified foods that threatened to tumble down into the hole, burying his mouth and ending this blissful torture.
The mountain of food was receiving a heavy load of pulled chicken and gravy when the slope facing Joe split apart and slid down towards his mouth hole. The food gathered more and more mass as it slipped towards his mouth, over-topping the rim of the hole and breaking the walls of food that kept Joe from drowning. Like a mudslide, the mass of garbage food poured into the hole and filled it instantly. A sputtering geyser of air bubbles burped from the hole and for a few seconds, it looked like the slop was going to drain down into him again, sinking a few inches, but the flow of food poured in to refill the depression in the slop and kept building up on top.
Rusty didn't even notice, he just kept dumping food long into the night. The next time he looked down the hole, the room was at least eight feet deep in a sludge of food. Joe was just part of the deep cesspool of garbage now, buried deep in the mess and completely hidden from the rest of the world. Rusty couldn't help himself and jerked off into the hole before taking a long piss down into the slop and then decided to squat over the hole and take a shit to show his dominance over the situation. He looked down at the disgusting mess that nearly filled the room below and spit down the hole to judge how far from the ceiling the food pile was.
Later that day, after giving the food pile time to solidify and congeal, Rusty went outside to the pig pen and unlocked the metal double doors that led out to the trough. The hogs were hungry since they hadn't had their daily flood of waste food in three days and were very interested in what Rusty was doing. When the doors swung open, the gooey mass of food filled the entire doorway like a wall, bulging out heavily before beginning to crumble and ooze out like the giant disgusting slab of garbage that it was. The hogs gathered around and ate at the slop aggressively, happily squealing with excitement as they filled their bellies. Rusty then went to work, collecting garbage on his usual route like nothing had happened.
A week later, Rusty was busy dumping bins of donated food into the pig trough outside. He looked around at his hogs, proudly eyeing the ten largest hogs who were now too fat to move after gorging themselves on all the waste food that the world had disposed of so carelessly. They were the fattest hogs he had ever seen, or, almost the fattest, but that special hog was gone forever. The cement room was now completely empty and the hogs were as happy as Rusty.
It was almost too easy. He was already planning where to find his next special hog. He had noticed another house on his garbage route that had a lot of junk food and fast food wrappers in the trash, including a multitude of empty 'Very High Calorie' meal replacement shake containers - a good sign that there was a fat-obsessed pig living there. He waited patiently, collecting artifacts from the trash week after week, learning more about the gluttonous slob so he could decide if this hog would be as successful as the last, and then he would go and collect his trash.
Comments
I've cum to this about a dozen times lol
