mid 30s. trans man. alcoholic former-feedee who had gastric bypass. tried, but obviously couldn't stay sober. so now i take advantage of how little alcohol it takes to get me STUPID drunk.
Uptight, prim and proper to too drunk to sit on their own pipeline in the span of a couple hours easily one of the hottest things out there.
Someone so adequate, so intelligent and polite, sharp witted and properly dressed, refusing a drink a couple times before accepting the first one, unaware theyre gonna be losing face in just a few hours.
sipping slowly before being asked if they dislike the drink, and speeding up to not be impolite, getting a refill without asking. Ending up in a high social pressure type situation, where theyll continuosly get cheered, so they have to take a sip, theyre given another type of drink to try so they have to try that.
A couple drinks in theyre shirt is unbuttoned or disheveled, their hair a little messy, face flushed and eyes heavy lidded, lips red and wet from booze. Slur that theyre desperately trying to keep at bay getting stronger and stronger. They excuse themselves to the bathroom and walk a little too fast and unsteady, a slight stumble.
They return to a glass full yet again, this time not protesting and taking a deep drink, the afternoon progresses and they let out an unexpected hiccup, their clothes in dissarray, face red, eyes glassy, belly bloated and round from being full of alcohol, bouncing with every hiccup. They dumbly giggle as they hiccup into their drink. They can no longer say no to any drink, slumped in their seat, dumb drunk grin permanently on their face, everytime they try to get to the bathroom they stagger more and more, starting to bump into the walls. They can barely speak a straight sentence, speaking too loud, hiccuping, laughing too much, swaying hard while sitting, all dignity out of the window.
Unable to form a proper sentence before starting to nod off, glass in hand, every now and again having it raised to their mouth chugging while barely conscious, till they eventually pass out where theyre sitting...
I would love to be at a party or something and have someone force me to drink, like they offer me booze multiple times and become more and more pushy about it until they put down a drink in front of me insisting i take a good swig,
constantly encouraging me to drink faster, refilling my cup,“cheers“ing me until ive got a couple glasses down, eventually im nice and tipsy so they pour me shots and invite me to play drinking games…
about 3h after me insisting i wont drink im too wasted to stand up straight, slurring every single word laughing at everything and drinking what im handed or refilling my own drink once i see its (half)empty while looking at it so drunk off my ass im squinting to even be able to see, crosseyed and smiling stupidly.
Eventually i black out and wake up somewhere (probably the bathroom) still dizzy and feeling pretty buzzed..its the early morning hours so me being still intoxicated i decide im not done drinking and find the next best bottle of liquor hiccuping and stumbling and happily wasted
i want someone who needs me to get bigger. someone who looks at me finishing a mountain of junk food and feels like they’ve done something wickedly satisfying. someone who doesn’t let me stop. seconds, thirds, fourths, then dessert. they insist. they push me. they watch me gulp it down, belly stretching, skin tightening.
i want someone who hoards food for me like it's a secret, like i am their dirty little private obsession. someone who takes extra shifts, skips their own meals, just so they can come home and watch their greedy piggy of a girlfriend be too heavy to move properly. someone who gets off on seeing me slow down, groaning, soft, warm, helpless under the weight they've made me gain.
i want to feel consumed by them. like i am their growing, pampered, greedy little piggy. someone who watches my body change and takes notes in their head, smiling at every new curve, every jiggle, every fold. someone who likes that i cannot stop, that i want more.
i want to be addicted to their feeding. addicted to their eyes on me. addicted to their hands on and in my body. addicted to the way they make me full, helpless, and theirs.
i want to feel like i exist just for their pleasure, and my body, my hunger, my growing softness is a mark of ownership, of control.
What had begun as a fantasy and an unrealistic ideal were slowly becoming realised.
You had been supportive when I switched to buying my alcohol during my lunch break, rather than after work. After all, that meant I could start sooner and have more of my evening left to enjoy. Of course, you had questioned why I always waited so long stock up on supplies, as I knew how often I would want a little something in the evening. But the idea to hit the liquor store during my lunch break every day, just in case, had come from me.
You were not surprised when I reasoned myself to sneak a few drinks in precisely 20 minutes before leaving work. It takes roughly 20 minutes for the alcohol to hit, so it wouldn’t affect my work anyways. Indeed you were happy to see me happy as early as possible. We had discussed flasks and such so I could begin drinking already on my way home, but these two innovations could easily be combined and you saw and let me understand the benefits for me, and how self caring I was to come up with such a system.
The idea that I have my pizza with a beer on the pizzeria probably came from you, to be fair. You knew how much I enjoyed people seeing me get drunk and fat publicly so it was really as suggestion of kindness. My addition that I should always buy two pizzas, so I could have one to go for the night made us both giddy. I had to empty my flask before the pizzeria to really feel buzz while there, but I seemed more than happy to do it, on a daily basis.
While I had been having a few drinks in the morning, to get the day started for quite some time I had usually been able to abstain until I almost left work to drink anything more. But it was almost inevitable that I would need a couple of shots during lunch to fight shakes and other withdrawals and function well in the afternoon. Yes, my face got flushed. I perhaps got a little loud, but it was not like my nose and cheeks and ears weren't red all the time anyways. So, after extensive discussions, comparing photos, and even my speech, we agreed that I actually looked less drunk, and got more work done, if I had exactly three shots during my lunch break. It was kind of a boon for my workplace.
Of course, you knew that I sometimes sampled the wine I always seemed to be carrying around in a large Sprite can, but you were also very aware that sneakily being more drunk than I pretended to be was part of the appeal for me, so you didn’t mention it.
Sick days became more frequent. I either was too hungover to function, or got too drunk from my morning drinks. Of course, I ended up getting fired. I had been caught drinking at work and got a warning and would be enrolled in a programme. Unfortunately, I didn’t show up when the programme started. I got another warning. Just a couple of days later, I had another sick day. My boss and an HR representative came to my home only to find me butt naked, my huge belly swaying wildly and almost covering my little shockingly hard dicklet, sticking out from its fat pad. Vodka bottle in one hand, and a dildo sticking out of my ass, I staggered to meet them, slurring of how much i wanted to fuck them at the office.
You had never seen me so aroused and happy as when I tried to tell you about the incident after they left. Finally free. <3
BEEP BEEP BEEP. I turned off my alarm clock. It said 6.00 a.m. I felt groggy and nausiated, and had no idea why it rang so early. I noticed I had a message on my phone.
"Good morning Sweatie! I hope you slept well and feel great today! Make Mommy proud and take three large swigs from the Absolute you put next to your bed. You know I just want you to feel good! After you had your refreshment, I want you to write me and tell me how much my big boy drank, and then I want you to get back to sleep again. Okay Sweetie? Xxxooxxx"
I couldn't remember putting a bottle next to my bed. Truth be told, I couldn't remember getting to bed at all. But I checked, and of course Mommy was right. There was a bottle of Vodka with 2/3rds left. Mechanically I picked it up and screw of the lid with clumsy finger. Three swigs. It didn't even burn a lot on the first. But I felt a fimilar warmth in my crouch. I wanted so bad to make Mommy proud. On the third swig, I tried to drink as much as possible, but my stomach upproared and I had to stop. I lay there, helplessly gulping air and tried not to throw up, like a fish on dry land. Finally I was able to write.
"Go mornin momy. I tried to drink you prou og me but almost got sick. Sory"
After that, I must have passed out.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. My alarm again. I dropped my phone and fumbled before managing to turn the sound off. My vision swam and I felt desorientated. 7.00 a.m. I had a message on my phone.
"Oh hello there little one! You began drinking at six already? Your such a little rascal. thirsty today? Are you still in bed, and do you have more supplies next to you? If so, I want you to have three large swigs. You know I just want you to feel good! Write afterwards, and take a little nap. Love, Mommy xxxooxxx"
It was something with the message that gave me a bit paus, but I couldn't understand what it was. Had I been drinking? But she was right, it was a bottle on my night stand. Less than half of it's content was left. I reached for it and almost tripped it over. Damn, I wasn't steady. I tried again and secured the bottle. Fuck it felt SO GOOD everywhere. My body was a warm numb blob. I felt so horny, and wanted to be the best pup for Mommy. With one hand jerking my little cock, I drank. I wasn't hard, but the little worm was warm and touching myself was more than a habit, it was just what I did. The liqour went down so easy. I was utterly surprised when the bottle was suddenly empty. I was unsure how much it had been in there, but I had probably drunk quite a lot. My belly began hurting and it felt like it was on fire. I collapsed on my side, suddenly covered in sweat. I didn't know how long I was lying there gasping before I felt steady enough to write on my phone:
"I hadd there st off drink haha i love y me cocl is so small bhu bfeel good almist puke ilo veyo"
I blacked out.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. It took me a long time to come to, and even longer to turn off the bloody alarm. I had no idea what was going on, and whan I tried to sit up, my head lolled and it the world twisted and turned around me. I crashed back into the sweaty damp bed. I had a message on my phone. It took me quite some time to read it.
"Haha, oh Sweetie! Dead drunk seven in the morning! So, let me get this straight. Drunk as you were yesterday, you still managed to bring a bottle to bed. I know you opened it and drank from it before sleeping at 2 a.m. Now it is five hours later, and you have finished it? You must feel SO GOOD now, you might as well get up and get your day started! I want you to go to the bathroom and do your morning toilet, and while you do, I want you to delete this conversation without reading back anything. You know I don't mind it when you binge, but I don't want there to be a paper trail of my support. Can you do that for Mommy? I call you in 15 minutes so I can see your beet read face, your growing body and your little wee wee, and set you off for the day! Xxxooxxx"
I felt my dicklet get warm again. I loved it when Mommy saw me in a drunken state. I fumbled with my phone to delete the conversation. When I finally suceeded I tried to get out of the bed, but crashed violently into the nightstand and fell into the wall with my head first, and slid down on the floor. Drool dropped down on the floor from my slack jaw. I felt complete. This would be a fantastic day.
intox × hypno × somno × whatever tf else it is when someone's trying to speak but their words are all soft and slurred and they're trying to say something but everything's all happy and fuzzy and they feel so good they can't be bothered to try to speak any clearer and eventually it just turns into sweet mumbles and little groans because there's nothing else in their empty little head
god i want you to touch me when im drunk. want you to get me or come in on me touching Myself while drunk . the way you do
yknow .
pressed up close next to me, nearly over me while Im layed wastedlyon myback hand on my dick so needfully , eyes half-lidded and boozy andd face flushed, mind so gone , so possessed withj how it feels , want you to ask me low and quite like that "How does it feel?"
nd I wanna slur n mumble back is that itsso much better, feels "gh fuck hhah, so much better," than does when sober with a blushed n lost smile cross my face I can't evebn notice , only half looking n unfocused but head simply tilted toward you, n your voice andthe heat ofyour body and breath and that you smell So good "godd you smell soojgood,"
need my hands to go limp when you give me another shot still laying there hot and flushed and hard like that nd beg you throbbing to help me now Pleasefuckkj ' dont i smell good too, cant you-don't you feel this pull like a magnet too orr am I justt waste d ?
No- nonnonoo im- Im Finje imm fine, reallyy km . mmhmmfuck k . uhh uhhmn '
at first we meet at a bar, very casual, but I soon realize that you have more intentions with me. you keep ordering shots and every time I try to pay, you decline, saying things like don't worry puppy, don't think about it, just take the drinks like a good boy. good boys don't decline drinks, they are eager for then. good boys keep drinking until I tell you to stop. good boys don't stop drinking until they can't stand up anymore because they are so drunk. good boys get wasted on purpose. good boys get wasted in public spaces just to embarrass themselves. good boys stumble home, and if they don't stumble, it means they have to drink more. good boys are never too drunk, they can always drink more. good boys need to lean against walls in dark alleys because they are too drunk to keep walking. good boys are so wasted that they can't get up from the floor anymore. good boys just lay there, enjoying their spinning head from the booze, unable to go home. good boys take videos of themselves drunk, so they can get off on them when they are sober again. good boys fantasize about drinking all the time. good boys never decline drinks. good boys slur their words, and if they don't slur, they have to drink more. good boys edge themselves not on purpose but because they are too drunk to keep the vibrator steady on their clit and it keeps slipping because they are so wet.
Casually caretaking my intox bottom while they're too gone too realize I'm doing it... Grabbing the door before it slams open too hard on them when they tipsily open it. Catching the glass they drop that nearly shatters on their feet. Hands on their waist to steer them away from the wall when they can no longer walk straight. Tipping water down into their mouth while I coo about how good they are, stroking their throat to encourage swallowing as their eyes flutter shut.
Want them in the best shape possible at the end of all of this so they want to do it all again tomorrow.
You're at a party, some house party your friend is throwing. It's alright, nothing special, early in the night, nothing's gotten too wild yet. Someone's set up one of those unofficial little bars, and it looks like one of the hosts friends has claimed the title of unofficial bartender. You watch him carefully yet efficiently make some kind of moderately complicated cocktail for someone, chatting the whole time. Maybe he's a bartender just as his day job? He finishes the drink, hands it off, and looks up at you and smiles.
"Were you wanting a drink?"
You startle a bit, blushing as you realize you'd been staring.
"uhh maybe, I don't- I don't usually drink. I don't like the taste very much." you give an awkward, apologetic half laugh.
The mans smile broadens. "Oh! I love it when people say that, if you'll tell me what kind of flavors you like i can mix you up something with barely any alcohol in it that will taste delicious, I promise."
He winks, and you find yourself blushing again.
"Uh, sure, I guess?"
You fumble through a list of the kinds of drinks and flavors you like. He listens attentively, nodding along, and once you're done talking he starts reaching for various bottles. He holds one up and tells you its just a pre mixed non alcoholic mixer, and it will make up the bulk of the drink.
You watch his hands as he works, moving quickly and efficiently. Within a matter of minutes he hands you your drink and waits expectantly for you to try it. You hesitate for a second, you really don't drink much, and you're worried about getting too drunk somewhere, but there's an impatient little line forming and people are looking and well he *did* say that it was going to have barely any alcohol. You take a cautious sip, and it's actually good! You can barely taste any alcohol, and it mostly just tastes like your favorite juice, slightly minty somehow, very refreshing.
You raise your eyebrows at him in surprise. "It's...good!"
He laughs "Yeah of course it is, I told you I'm good at this."
He smoothly moves on to the next person in line and you move away, absentmindedly sipping your drink. You finish it quickly, not even thinking about it.
About ten minutes later, you find yourself stuck in a conversation with a guy you wish had never been invited. He's not predatory exactly, just can't take a hint, and he's got you backed into a corner droning on about his...Bitcoin stocks or something, you don't know. Then like a light at the end of the tunnel, the bartender appears behind him.
"Hey man! Good to see you, man you've gotta be really happy about this recent upturn in the market huh? Listen I hate to interrupt but could I borrow them real quick? I promised them another drink and I just totally lost track of time!"
He quickly and smoothly ushers you away, and you let out a little sigh of relief. You feel a little...fuzzy almost, just pleasantly happy, and it feels suddenly very good to see him.
"Thanks for that." you blurt out. "I don't know how I would have gotten out of that one."
He laughs and assures you it's no problem. "I really did want to make you another drink though, come on I've got another one I really think you'll like."
You consider it and well, why not? It feels like a great idea all of a sudden and well he's so very nice, and he did just rescue you from an awkward situation, why not take just one more drink? He's pouring light, it'll be alright.
He makes you another drink and it goes down just as smoothly as the last one.
The next couple of hours go much like that, he just pops up periodically, offers you a new drink, chats for a bit. He seems really nice. As the night goes on you start getting more and more flushed, and everything just starts feeling great. You're more social than you've ever been, you're loud and happy, you stumble a little when you walk but you chalk that up to being a lightweight. Finally it all really starts hitting, it gets hard to think, and you wind up sprawled out on the couch in a pleasant, sluggish haze.
You slowly realize that someone is standing over you, and you squint up at them. Oh hey! It's that nice bartender again. You smile blearily up at him.
He chuckles down at you. "You look like you could use some hydration. Go ahead and drink this quickly."
He holds out another cup to you, and you take it and chug it without thinking. Then slowly list over sideways, the room spinning gently. Everything is so nice. You say it out loud.
"You're soooo. so. Nice."
He laughs again. "Yeah I sure am, come on, let me put you down for a lie down."
The other people around you, those that aren't also blitzed out of their minds, kind of laugh and then go back to their conversations.
He gently helps you up and then guides you back into the house. You vaguely realize he's taking you upstairs when he starts coaxing you up the first step. Even in your hazy state, this strikes you as odd.
"Hey aren't, don't. Don't most people go to the-the guest bedroom...? that'ssss downstairs....righ?"
"It's already full, I'm just trying to get you some privacy. Ah dear I didn't realize you were such a lightweight, I'm going to have to carry you okay?"
He scoops you with one arm behind your back and one arm under your knees.
You giggle. "Princess carry!"
He laughs "That's absolutely right!"
You kind of doze off and then wake up a little again when he sets you down on a bed and starts taking your shoes off. You lie back against the comfortable mattress, staring up at the ceiling with your arms outspread.
When he reaches up and starts tugging at your waistband, you look down with some concern.
"what-what are youuuu doing?"
"You're drunk enough you'll probably piss yourself during the night, don't worry I'm just trying to save your pants."
You give up trying to figure out if that's normal or not, and just lift your hips to help him get your pants off. you lay there blinking again, and then become aware that he has crawled up on the bed beside you. You slowly and painfully turn your head to look up at him.
"heyyy whats-you coming up here?"
Without saying anything, he suddenly straddles your chest, clamping one hand down on your mouth. Not that it would have mattered much, you're too out of it to even be able to process what is happening to you. You struggle feebly, but he doesn't even seem to notice. You hear the sound of a zipper, and then his hand is removed and replaced by something else.
"Open your mouth." His tone is completely calm, somehow almost indifferent.
"No what-what are you-"
He reaches down and pinches your nose shut, and when you reflexively open your mouth to breathe, shoves his cock inside.
You go completely still, brain unable to process what is happening.
"And don't even think of trying to bite me, or you'll really regret it."
Without any preamble, you feel him make a hard thrust as far down your throat as he can force it and you gag and struggle harder. He thrusts hard in and out of your throat and you feel tears leaking out of your eyes. It's painful and violating and it's making you really panic. You feel the edges of your vision start to go black and only then does he pull out to let you take a breath.
You choke and sputter and gasp for breath. "There we go, if you hold still I'll let you breathe, alright?"
Dumbly, you nod, and he shoves his dick back in your mouth, fucking it like a pussy.
When he finally pulls all the way back out you feel a sense of relief, okay it's over, it's done. When he rolls you over onto your stomach you just lay there limply, completely out of it.
You swim back into reality to the feeling of him between your legs and something pressing against your hole.
"N-no no wai-" you mumble. In one smooth stroke he bottoms out in you and you let out a gargled wail at the sudden violation.
He lays down on you with his full weight and presses your face into the mattress, fucking in and out of you at a brutal pace. You scream into the mattress, it's all too much too hard too fast. You feel overwhelmed and helpless.
You don't know how long he fucks you for but you start feeling him fuck into you harder and he grunts out. "'m gonna fill you up now you fucking slut. Take it fucking take it."
You whimper and fruitlessly try to wriggle away. More than anything else you don't want that to happen.
It's no use, in one last thrust he plunges all the way into you and you feel his cock twitching in you, filling you up. After he cums he pulls out and gets up while you lay there in a stupor. You hear a camera click a few times and then the door opening and closing.
The next thing you remember it's the next morning, and everyone at the party thinks someone else invited the bartender. No one knows his name.
skinny. mad about it. [VERY not sober anymore] @fatlush - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
