belleee
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies

ellievsbear
tumblr dot com
Sade Olutola
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
Sweet Seals For You, Always
styofa doing anything
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
wallacepolsom
Mike Driver
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

roma★

titsay

oozey mess
NASA
Misplaced Lens Cap
Jules of Nature
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@dontmakethebichoose
belleee
Well...There's always a silver line to everything, right? :^)
the boys are out inflating in public >:3c
birdie and sil are @j-jstone 's and crow is mine
Look at how thick my double chin has become 😵💫🐮 this cowprint looks amazing on me, doesn't it? Christ, I've gained so much weight so quickly, I'm already at 410! It's almost scaring me how quickly my body is adapting to being completely useless at everything except shoving calories into my greedy mouth and turning it into greasy, disgusting fat lard that pins me down and turns me from a barely mobile, waddling cow to a mattress sized heifer that puts on 100lbs a year. And despite that fear, I am so excited to become a medically compromised, food addicted, greasy pig with a gut that touches the floor no matter my position 🐷🐷🐷
Fantasizing and talking dirty with my feeder is amazing especially when he tells me how he's going to breed me like the blue ribbon winning cow I am and keep me fed full of greasy, fattening foods, or in his words: "full womb, full arteries."
The fattest guy in the office, or anywhere really, is used to being called “big guy” and being cast a double glance when someone first sees him. He takes it in stride—says he loves to eat—but knows he’s not anyone’s type.
So he never goes for the plunge. He never picks up any signs – not that he thinks there’s ever been any.
He’s used to girls befriending him and he expects nothing more. He has a lot of female friends.
A new worker in the office befriends him, he thinks little of it. She’s a few years younger than him, a little less experienced in this field, so she’s always turning to him for help.
Little does he know she’s obsessed with him. She sees him across the room, shimmying between desks or struggling to grab something from the floor and she’s drooling around her pen.
Fight those glp1 supporters by feeding a fatty today. Only you can prevent a fatty from starving!
beached whale washing up on the couch
A Long Night
A little fictional appetizer to get things going.
-----
You lean back on your bed, desperate to relieve some of the pressure on your overextended gut. There’s a faint hint of sugar on your lips even though you finished the donuts hours ago. You groan a little before you even realize you’re doing it.
How many calories have you crammed into your greedy mouth tonight? The donuts alone were good for a few hundred at least. Then the burgers and fries really packed it on. And the shakes. You insisted on those. There was more, right? You lost track sometime after the pizza.
Looking down, it’s easy to see where each and every calorie ended up. You gently rub your hands along your overinflated gut — if you can even still call it a gut. That word doesn’t do it justice. Round, swollen, and firm to the touch. You’ve turned it into a taut balloon. You’ve packed it so tight you can practically feel new stretchmarks forming as it stretches to accommodate the meals you’ve put it through. You slowly circle your hands against your impossible mass before resting them on your soft underbelly. Somehow, it jiggles against your touch. Maybe you’re looking for a little relief, or maybe you’re just trying to help it hold all that food in. You’ve heard of ‘being a handful’, but this is ridiculous. Ten hands couldn’t keep you covered.
You could have stopped at any time, and yet you kept wanting more. It was easy swallowing those first few bites. Even the first hundred were fine. But you couldn’t control yourself, and you’re paying for it now. You’re stuffed so full you can’t even take a deep breath without feeling like you’re about to explode. Arching your back doesn’t help, but you do it anyway, looking for more space that your stomach doesn’t have.
Just as you start to relax again, from the doorway, you hear the words you knew were coming: “Who’s ready for dessert?” It’s going to be a long night.
waking up absolutely bloated from last night's stuffing.. still heavy, still rounded, still digesting,
and stumbling into the kitchen to snack while you figure out what's for breakfast
need to see a feedee's belly take up the sink with the faucet pushing inside their belly button
person who's been trying to lose weight but stuffing is just so, so addictive.
"diet starts tomorrow.." they breathe out heavily, with their taut belly poking out from their frame. a whole cake stuffed inside among other things.
rubbing that round belly, pushing their fingers down, feeling how firm it is from all that food inside. as if they haven't conditioned themself to be aroused just by rubbing their belly, or fingering their belly button.
it starts tomorrow, right? so they may as well have some more fun before then.. they may as well get back up and shovel more food into their hungry gut while they still can? this certainly hasn't happened a bunch. this definitely isn't their 50th "starts tomorrow".
aww you're too fat to do basic human things?
let me take care of it all whilst i grab your funnel <3
bed-bound cow 🥰 [OF discounts!!]
POV: Your pup treats every meal like it might be their last and every extra serving like a personal challenge
Your pup has already given up on wearing anything remotely restrictive. Their jeans were the first casualty, followed shortly by their shirt. Now they’re sprawled across the couch in nothing but their underwear, belly so swollen from their heavy greasy Mexican takeout lunch that it rises and falls with every slow, overworked breath.
You settle down beside them and immediately pull them into your arms. Your pup lets out a pathetic little whine as you drape an arm across their bulging middle.
“Goodness, sweetheart,” you murmur, rubbing slow circles over the taut curve of their stomach. “Someone’s been eating really good lately, huh?”
The belly beneath your hand answers with a long, unhappy gurgle.
Your pup just pouts.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, You stuffed your greedy little face with enough food for three people baby.”
A louder burble follows. Your pup squirms deeper into your chest, clearly hoping you’ll stop teasing them.
Instead, you lean down and kiss the top of their head.
“My poor little butterball” You murmur teasingly into their ear.
A few hours later your phone buzzes. It’s your aspiring chef friend. Apparently they’ve been recipe testing all afternoon and made far too much food. They’re dropping off several containers and don’t want anything to go to waste.
The second you mention food, your pup’s ears perk up. You stare at your big bellied pup in disbelief as you listen to their belly gurgle away angrily and say “Absolutely not.”
Another hopeful look.
“Sweetheart, you can barely breathe let alone eat even more” You say trying to reason with your spoiled pup.
Their stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a deep, watery slosh. Your pup has the decency to look embarrassed for approximately three seconds.
Then the food arrives.
Despite already looking like they swallowed a beach ball, your shameless little pup immediately claims they’re “just gonna have a “little” taste.”
A taste of course ends up becoming a plate. The plate becomes another plate. That then becomes an entire dinner.
An hour later you find them sitting on the couch with yet another container balanced in their lap.
“Puppy” You say admonishingly.
“It’s second dinner” they say as if second dinner was a normal occurrence.
“You already had dinner” You say with a mix of fondness and exasperation.
“That was regular dinner” they whine with the most duh tone ever.
You can’t even argue with their logic because they’re already stuffing another bite into their mouth. By the time the last container is empty, your pup is completely defeated.
They waddle over and collapse beside you with a groan, belly stretched impossibly round and firm beneath your hands. Every few seconds another overworked gurgle rolls through it as their poor digestive system tries to figure out what crime it committed to deserve this.
You rub the swollen mound affectionately.
“My sweet little glutton, your tummy is working overtime” You coo.
A miserable little whine is what you get in return.
“You know,” you continue thoughtfully, poking the curve of their potbelly, “at the rate your going that young pup metabolism of yours isn’t going to be able to save you.”
Your pup freezes.
“Oh yeah. Keep eating like this and this little thing?” You pat their belly like a drum. “Will become permanent.”
Their eyes widen. You immediately kiss their forehead before they can panic.
“Not that it would stop you” you tease as you smirk down at them.
Another loud gurgle answers for them.
Because honestly?
You both know that if somebody showed up with a third dinner right now, your spoiled, big-bellied pup would devour every last bite, consequences be damned.