me tryna be chill about needing to make you hard as fuck, dripping with need.
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@fuckingellex
me tryna be chill about needing to make you hard as fuck, dripping with need.
Iād like to earn being able to collar you. To have you submit at my feet. All of your fat pooling around you as you desperately seek approval. Then tie you up on the bed so you can hardly flinch, then funnel you until you canāt take another drop. Iāll tell you what a fattened worthless sow you are as I explore every inch and fold of you as your forced to guzzle down thousands of calories. I slap you if you slow. Iāll pinch at your nipples and thigh rolls. Iād prove that your submission was worth the payout for you as I let you go foggy and dumb, and use you however I wish. Fat fuck pig. š·
always teasing me with a good time šµāš«š¤¤
The Boat Studio (1876) by Claude Monet
My love language is giving head
oral fixation goo mmmmm.
in the mood to struggle, in the mood to beg.
and the lust just grows and grows. I want my throat full.
been more overwhelmed than inspired but you could change that
Iāve been stuffing so much the last few nights, and the top of my belly has been swelling up soo much itās been brain melting to watch. the creaks of my chair šµāš«šµāš«š¤¤šš
happy dff, bimbo hours have already begun š¦š·š
in a mood to beg.
if youāre gunna send me a slutty video, at least keep the audio on. asking to hear me beg and not having audio while you cum? come onnnnnn.
this man just told me good girls gag and now I wanna be the best.
I want to give you a goal weight, something distant enough to keep you reaching, but close enough to trap you in false hope. Not too high, nothing that generous. Just a number youāll never actually see, because your gut will hang too far over the scale to read it anymore. Your body, swollen and swollen again, will eclipse any trace of progress. But Iāll be there, every time, whispering lies youāll desperately want to believe.āØāYouāre almost there,ā Iāll murmur, slipping another cream-filled pastry past your lips. āJust a little more. You're doing so well.ā And youāll nod, chewing mindlessly, lost in the haze of sugar and salt and slow, deliberate ruin. You might suspect, eventually. You might feel the creeping dread when you try to rise and your body groans under its own weight. When walking feels like wading through wet concrete. When your stretch marks redden like overripe fruit and your skin folds over in new, decadent ways. But then the smell hits you, hot butter, thick syrup, melting cheese, and any fleeting clarity is drowned in the next bite.
You donāt resist anymore. Why would you? Every day you give yourself a little more to the hunger. Every day it claims another piece of you, your mobility, your dignity, your will. Youāve become soft in more ways than one. You're so close to your goal weight, remember? Just like you were last month. And the month before that. But still, you eat. You gorge. You grow. Because in truth, there is no goal. Thereās only the fall. The consequence isnāt health, or shame, itās pleasure. Pure, sick, hedonistic pleasure in your decline. And now, the only thing left in your head is the hunger. The need. The desire to keep going. To fill and be filled, to be bred and swell and give in, completely. Youāll eat until I stop feeding you. But you know, in that bloated, blubber-heavy husk of a body, that I never will. So open wide, pig. You're still so close.
fuck me.
opening wide, but for you, I could open wider.
It was so damn empowering to watch you regress as he fucked you. Every thrust into your wet, needy pussy pushed out your thoughts, filling you with his cock and watching your personality melt away until you looked up at him with dull eyes and a hazy smile. His Elle. His good pet.
But it wasn't enough. He wanted you entirely dependent on him, stripped entirely of your autonomy and your independence.
And so he fed you. And fed you. And fed you.
You were already chubby, but under his guiding hand your weight and your body ballooned. Gainer shakes blended with cake and donuts. Fast food feasts that would normally feed a family of seven or eight, all forced into your rapidly expanding belly. The fat clung tight to your body, filling it out, inflating you, turning you into a quarter-ton heifer.
And he got front row seats to your degeneration. He got to watch as your thighs thickened and your hips widened and your normal walk. turned into an awkward jiggling waddle. Each heavy footfall sent ripples upward through your unending rolls and flab. As your mobility worsened, so did your flexibility. That hanging gut made it hard to reach anything on the other side of it, whether that's your shoes to be tied or your needy, plump pussy between your legs. Just moving your belly left your heart racing and your breathing heavy and ragged, let alone the effort to actually fuck yourself like you so desperately needed.
And it wasn't stopping. The more you ate, the worse it got. It didn't take long before simple things like sitting up in bed and rolling over became Herculean tasks, sweating and huffing just from lugging your own obesity around. Fat inflated every inch of you, from your sagging tits to your flabby arms to your chubby fingers, all the way down to your ankles being swallowed up in softness. The frequent aching in your chest and just how hard your breathing could get would have been worrisome if it didn't feel so fucking good.
When he fucked you and you were able to let go of your thoughts, it felt so fucking good. You could feel every lard-filled inch of your body sloshing in sync with his hips. All you had to do was lie there and take it, though there wasn't much you could have done regardless, so pinned down under your own weight. All you had to do was keep eating. Keep gaining. Keep inflating. Keep being his good girl. Just let all those worries float away. Be Daddy's good heifer: eat and grow. Eat and grow.
ā¦ā¦.
ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦.
ā¦ā¦ā¦..
it actually hurts to post this. I said I was insatiable not immune you guysss š
when I get anons this fucking good, Iām suddenly able to reach sooooo good and honestly I shouldnāt have to, why arenāt you here I literally need š«
Any good recommendations for learning more about Dom/Sub things?
It sounds like you had some in-depth hands on training... I'd like to learn more about those dynamics...
Shit, Iām kinda verbose.
SO. I had to think about this because Iām not a Dominant (lol) butā¦I think it can come down to education, exposure, and experience.
Education: putting yourself in positions to learn more: I learned a lot from online spaces, some that I wouldnāt recommend, but Iād still recommend Fetlife. There are writers, artists, teachers, and people who love to teach and provide solid information on SSC practices within BDSM. A lot of those online relationships move to IRL and you get practice with safe people. I wouldnāt have discovered my masochist side without education.
Exposure: The Dominants practiced submission first. Not because they were submissive, but because they understood that the power exchange isnāt something to take lightly. If you want to learn more about being a good Dom, submit. Youāll know what it feels like to be on your knees. If you canāt do that, you probably donāt wanna be a Dom for real. Being able to do this opens up a compassion for your submissive and can help keep you from becoming abusive.
Experience: going back to Fetlife, there are a lottttt of local scene Munches you can go to and theyāll have classes on things like shibari, sensory play, rigging, flogging, etc. There are swinger events, dungeons, play parties and meet ups. You can find a lot of these events on there, and the community on Fetlife has definitely become even more diverse in the last few years.
For submissive and slaves, it can be a little different, and I feel like I wouldnāt be able to break this down in a way that hits everything that matters to me. Even in power exchange, submissives are the ones with all of the power in the dynamic, and that needs to be remembered, and reiterated.
Iād say to the subby besties to trust your gut. If you donāt know, if you feel uneasy, if the answer isnāt a yes with your whole ass chest, then the answer is ALWAYSSSSSSS NO. Being a submissive is a vulnerable dangerous position, espescially if you have trauma / are young / need therapy / are neurodivergent / just donāt know shit. You should not be playing dice with your submission. Be fucking picky, please. So many people call themselves Doms and Masters but so many have no clue what the fuck theyāre talking about š
This isnāt conclusive, Iāve been a sub/slave for over half of my life so Iām missing things for sure. But I hope this helps a littleeee ššāāļøāļøš§æ
(Doms and Dommes please feel free tag in, yall know Iām a bimbo brain) š