I’m Wyrm!
I am an adult, this is a kink blog
Here there’s mostly weight gain with the occasional other thing thrown in. But mostly weight gain. because its awesome
I’ll put this here too

oozey mess

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Not today Justin

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@dragontummy
I’m Wyrm!
I am an adult, this is a kink blog
Here there’s mostly weight gain with the occasional other thing thrown in. But mostly weight gain. because its awesome
I’ll put this here too
when the big full fat boy falls onto his back and his belly goes blurmp
something about going "oh this has too many calories" while you're eating it with zero intent to stop anytime soon and also perhaps grabbing another one
Its funny how the way to become a fatass is to act like you're already a fatass. It's like fatness is a mindset, not just a physical quality.
Ask yourself, would a fat person skip a meal? Would a fat person walk up all those stairs? No? Then don't do it, and you can be fat too!
In fact, you're already fat; the rest of the world just doesn't know it yet. Skinny people don't stuff themselves, don't sit around all day snacking, don't dream of outgrowing their clothes.
When you talk about your big belly, or your fat ass, or complain that you're too fat to do things, people will be confused at first. But keep it up and they won't be confused anymore.
Your feeder attempts to pinch your flat belly, saying how soft and big and round and jiggly it is. Each time it becomes softer, bigger, rounder...
The XS shirts are much too small, you need the XXL like a proper fatty. You drown in it at first, but months later... see I told you it's the right fit!
Your chair is "too small" so you get a bigger and sturdier one. Soon enough you fill it out perfectly, and your old chair creaks and strains.
You "need" to get two seats on the bus to accommodate your wide frame. You're embarrassed at first, but you're grateful when you press against the armrests.
"Wow you got huge!" people say. What do they mean "got"?
(flirting) you got soo fat you really have been letting yourself go haven’t you?
not proofread
All you can eat buffet that keeps giving you larger portions
Walking through the food selection area and spying all the different meals, beverages, and desserts, all ready to be served to your table at a moments notice. You point out a few, mark them on a card, and hand it over to the person clearing tables. They give it a quick once over, grin and then scamper off back to the kitchen to relay the news, while you sit down, unaware of what's to come
The first wave of food is exactly as you ordered it. An easy cup of water to wash stuff don, large dinner plate of assorted meats and cheeses, slathered in a sauce that makes them shine in the light of the private room you're seated in. A few smaller appetizer plates sit nearby, breads, and fruits adorning them. What makes you blush is when you spot the dessert plate you'd ordered before hand. With eyes seemingly bigger than your stomach, you let out a hiss of air between gritted teeth as you observe the glistening glazes that lay atop the cake slices, the nearly transparent flakes that just barely hang on to the pastries, and the trickling drizzle that is dripping down the sides of your ice cream bowl.
When you finish, you pat your stomach as a joke while the waiters clear that table. Joking about how they'll have to roll you out of the room. Though you're quick to nod when they offer a repeat service.
You sit back and await the next set of platters, shirt a bit snugger than before, and belt actually feeling as though it's holding you back. But you ignore the sensations, sit up, and set your napkin back in your lap.
The second set makes you raise an eyebrow as it's set out in front of your. The plates a bit smaller than you remember, or maybe simply more covered in foods and their assorted juices as they cram together for space. The appetizers seem to confirm your suspicion, as their plates are upgraded from small side plates that let them fit nicely in the center cup, to larger platters that they now cover most of. The dessert set makes your stomach grumble, low and practically pushing out your skin as the cakes brush and land against each other with small sticky sounds as their glazes and frostings catch and unstick to one another repeatedly. A whine catches in your throat as they set down the water and ice cream, having been upgrade to jug and bowl respectively.
-
The table is cleared and you do your best to stifle the burp that builds in your throat. How many services is this? You lost count a while ago. All you know is that the tables smeared with crumbs and drips of whatever you've managed to spill while eating. Your shirt has a similar treatment, drops of assorted colours and pieces of food from assorted natures cling to your bubbling gut with such fondness as you tilt your head down to look. You can see the corners of the napkin, still laying in your lap but now squeezes by the protruding mass of your gut, small silk corners barely peeking through from where they hang off your knees. You reach down to touch at your stomach, domed like you've swallowed a beach ball, and tinged different hues where the skin has begun to strain. The consistent cup, pitcher, and now galloon jug of water they keep bringing out has left your stomach feeling less stuffed, and more fit to burst. Where the food sits like a heavy stone low in your gut, the water pushes, demanding expansion and demanding your attention when the slightest movement makes an audible slosh that leaves your face red, and some of the servers trying to conceal giggling or their own blushing.
You attempt to sit up, but your belly has no give. Seemingly no extra space in that rumbling mess of a gut, and when you trace your fingers over the skin, you feel just how little give there is. Those stupid, big, balls outside of the shopping center would probably feel more pliable than your belly as gurgles and bubbles spawn deep in your guts. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you ballooned. Pants seam squeezing and then popping as you ate, and they now sit barely hanging on by a thread. Your shirt ridden up and straining against your chest as your gut sits heavy. Engorged. Like you're somehow 9 months pregnant with twins- no, triplets that eagerly want out if the noises of your stomach are anything to go by.
You feel ready to pop when you see what you can only hope is that last set of plates get brought out. The food sits on top of platters now. Long, ornate platters that would seem at home in some kind of fun house caricature of how a king would be brought his meal. The food stacked atop it only seems to drive home that idea. The steaks brimming with veins of fat and sputtering out juice as the waiters begin to cut them for you. The loaves of bread, empty calories with a thick crust lay nearby, soaking up the meats juice as the waiters drop heavy slabs of butter that begin to melt and slide off the golden brown edges. The fruit has long since been abandoned, instead replaced with gravies and other sauces to smear onto the meal.
Your brows knit together to form a face akin to distress as you watch them drop the jugs onto the table, liquid sloshing and awaiting, chilled before hand to practically sting as it goes down your throat. But this part that makes you whine is the desserts. Full cakes adorned with slathers of whipped creams, seated next to what you can assume to be thick sheets of brownies, coated in fudge and still puffing off smoke as if they'd come fresh from the oven. That'll burn. But the next dish placed in front of you has been the one you've been begrudgingly awaiting. Dreading but also eager, simply to see how they up their game. Ice cream runs down the sides of the glass in thick globs, only stopping in spots where it meets the hot fudge and turns stationary. Creams adorn this one as well, in different shades and styles as they begin to droop from size and losing their fruitless battle with gravity. Luckily, they fall onto the thick, pizza-sized cookie they set the glass in the middle of.
You're about to insist you can't take another bite, can't possibly swallow anymore, you can barely reach the table regardless, when a waiter sits down next to you, practically squashed against the wall from your gut, but they work despite that. A fork in their hand that seems utterly insignificant compared to the sizes of the foods, but they still move, feeding you bite by bite even as you hiccup and moan and they cautious rub your distended gut as though worried you'll split from the touch.
-
Sweat, grease, crumbs, and thick globs of food coat you and the table. A straw in your fattened lips as you try to drink up the last of the melted ice cream. Your gut rumbles, and you feel the waiter shift in response. They're now pinned to the wall as you fill out the entire private booth, arms and upper body resting atop your bloated gut, but besides that, everything else obscured beneath your fat. The same can be said for you. You're not sure, but occasionally you feel something touch the bottom of your gut and you're almost sure it's the floor. You touch tentatively at the mass of fat you've trapped yourself under, only to hear the groan of your guts at, a gurgle that rumbles low in your stomach as you attempt to stop yourself from burping.
When a different waiter comes by to clear the table, you hiccup and surprises another burp before attempting to speak through food coma sleepiness, that you "Definitely didn't order all this."
Change your mindset
Im too full -> just one more bite
My shirt is snug -> neat free crop top
My jeans won't button -> sweatpants are more comfy anyways
My stomach makes it's harder to situp -> doordash and couch snacks
There's so many snacks to choose from -> one of everything please
I don't fit in booths anymore -> takeout baby
My partner can't wrap their arms around me anymore -> I make a better couch anywaysw
wearing clothes you outgrew as you waddle out of breath down grocery store aisles picking up junk for your next binge
Wizard sex, where I cast a spell on you that makes you swell up with fat as we're fucking
The thing about gaining is that it makes everything erotic. Of course the obvious—eating, walking, showering, getting dressed. All of that is turned up in heat until it's unbearably arousing, but that's just the surface. But try, say... washing the dishes, with your new belly dragging down, bumping against the edge of the bench or resting on top of it, wobbling freely as you try to just simply scrub a pot without losing your mind. Or getting a new drivers license photo, and feeling your hips and ass squeeze through the arms of the chair as you sit down to wait, wondering if the flustered blush across your fat new face will show up in the photo. Having a weight gain kink and choosing to go through with it turns your whole life, every minute of it, into erotica. The most innocent tasks become lascivious, the mundane becomes provocative, and your modest, unassuming body begins to strain with eroticism—permanently.
Join me
Roommates Some friendships are built on shared interests. For these two? Food - glorious, never-ending food! #fatfur
carcupholder, 04 jun 2025
Settling In #fatfur
carcupholder, 07 feb 2026
got any bigger sizes?
sweets pipeline 🍰
Enabling obesity
It's time to enable your bad habits, so you can finally error out the scale. I know you have been talking about how hard it is to gain. That's why I am going to make it so you never have to worry about being skinny again. Welcome to your new room. I added a mini fridge filled with sugary drinks, ice cream, and a few cakes that will be restocked throughout the week. I don't want to ever hear that you are too full to get more food. If you can't waddle your sexy blubber a few inches to open the fridge, then you are finally at the perfect size. I also added a dresser that is your new snack drawer. From top to bottom is sweet, salty, sour, and savory food meant to fill you up with empty calories that pile up to the point where you can't ever work them off. If you have any doubts, yes, I want you fucking huge. I am doing everything to make sure you get bigger. I don't want you losing weight or even feeling hungry. I want you waking up in the middle of the night, thirsty and downing half a liter of soda before going back to bed. I want you watching tv while you pig out on multiple bags of chips before lunchtime. You were always a fatass, but you are going to be shocked by just how bigger you can get when you surround yourself with the worst food for losing weight. The last thing I got for you is 2 new monitors. They will be blasting videos of other fatties gorging on slop 24/7. I want you horny to eat no matter what you are doing. Play games, watch movies, or even read if you want. You will be hearing and seeing the pinnacle of obesity, reminding you that you are not fat enough. I want you spending more time in a horny sweat with your vibrator, sucking down melted ice cream, then moving anyway. You always said you wanted to get fatter. I hope you don't regret your wish when you are too fat to get off anymore.
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