Come to me before bed, swollen and shirtless, tugging your boxers down to spare your stretched belly even the slightest pressure from the waistband. Groan as you lower yourself into bed. We already know you're too full to cum, but that didn't stop me cumming twice, and you getting hard and desperate to watch me at it. We're both exhausted, but nobody is any less sexy.
So I beacon you over to my side of the bed. I want you to roll onto me, to lay as much of your weight on me as I can take. You're way too stuffed to lie on your stomach, but you can lie in your side, that impressive gut burying my torso, my breasts just barely squishing out to bulge into your hands. I can feel you hard and leaking against my thigh, brushing my cunt.
I want you to pant in my ear. Moan when I start rubbing you. Risk moving all the way over, risk crushing me. Show me how huge and heavy and hard you are. Tell me how you're going to rail me in the morning.
Close your eyes and drift off to the sound of me whimpering, still unable to get enough of you. You have done so much, given me everything, and I want more. Let me wrap my arms around you and whisper, over and over again like I'm possessed, that you have filled me, finished me, broken me. Let the feeling of being stretched to bursting, burying my little body with your huge one, and being held so completely that you're not sure where we begin and end, overwhelm every sense.
You don't have to understand a word I say, or understand why I am still shuddering, still trembling and grasping. You will just know. I need you like this. Your job is the easiest and the hardest in the world, but pressed into me, half way to oblivion, you know you couldn't be anything else, and I cannot accept anything less.
My good boy. My perfect darling. My fattened, fed beast. I don't want to see, hear, or feel anything but you, all of you, for me.
This absolutely amazing photo set is a series by the talented Studiofa on Deviantart. He has made some AMAZING sets about weight gain and just beauties of gaining in general. Once again, these are not mine, itās all of his work. Go check him out!! http://studiofa.deviantart.com/ I personally am in love with this set right hereā¦ God would I love to see that happen to someoneā¦
I want it so fucking bad. I need a feeder who doesnāt give a shit about limits, who sees how pathetic and greedy I already am and justā¦ keeps pushing.
I want to be trapped under hundreds and hundreds of pounds of my own soft, useless blubber. I want my belly to sag so heavy it pins me to the bed, rolls cascading over rolls, sweat pooling in every deep crease while I wheeze just from existing. I want stretch marks like lightning bolts splitting across my skin, red and angry at first, then turning silver as proof of how much Iāve surrendered.
I want to feel the tube shoved down my throat when my jaw gets too tired, thick calorie sludge pumping straight into me 24/7āshakes so dense they feel like cement, heavy cream, melted ice cream, oil slicking everything. I want my body to forget what hunger even feels like because Iām never empty. Ever. Just constantly bloated, aching, leaking, my heart hammering against layers of fat like itās trying to escape before it gives out.
I want my legs to fuse into useless pillows of cellulite, my arms too swollen to lift, my chins multiplying until I can barely turn my head. I want to be so immobile that the only movement is the jiggle when someone slaps my gut or forces another funnel session. I want my feederās hands sinking wrist-deep into my sides while they whisper how much prettier Iāll be when Iām closer to the edge, when every breath is a struggle, when my body is finally giving up exactly like I begged it to.
Iām already ruined for anything else. Normal life? Gone. Thin? Laughable. I donāt want escape. I want to sink deeper. I want to be their perfect, disgusting, dying pigāswollen, sweaty, horny and helpless, cumming from the pressure alone while my arteries clog and my organs drown in lard.
Please.
Make me so fat I canāt come back.
Make me so fat I stop breathing under my own weight.
Iām begging for it. Iām dripping just typing this.
Iām not leaving this path. Iām already too far gone. š·š¦š°
āAww, poor piggy. Did you eat too much? Thatās okay, we can take a break for now..ā
I canāt help but pity you a bit when you get like this. In too deep, flushed and struggling to catch your breath, stuck in place like a beached whale.
āYouāve been so good for me, piggy.ā I purr in your ear, playing with your hair. āAnd itās gotten me all worked up.ā I slip off my shorts and panties and, in a smooth motion, slide myself across your thighs so I sit straddling you. I reach a hand out to brush your stuffed gut and you whimper in pain. You would have flinched away if you werenāt weighed down right now.
āAw, itās okay, piggy. Donāt you want to make me feel good?ā The whimpers of pain begin to mix with pleasure as I lightly run my hand around your belly. āGood boy.ā
I rise onto my knees and start slowly grinding my heat against your fatpad. I brush lightly, just barely touching as I move up to your lower stomach, running my wet pussy up and down the line of your happy trail. I relish in every reaction you give me: every whine and moan, every whimper of pain and pleasure and overstimulation. You shake underneath me with pleasure and anticipation.
I stop for a second when I brush against your dick, rock-hard and half-buried in the soft blubber of your fat pad and inner thighs. Of course, your boxers are already damp. āYouāve really got no self control at all, do you?ā I muse. Pathetic.
I rub myself over your tip, teasing myself with slow, circular motions. The roughness of the material of your boxers against my swollen clit makes me moan with pleasure.
āYeah, you like that..?ā You murmur through panted breaths.
I slow, stop.
āDonāt pretend like youāre doing any work here, fatty.ā I start again, rubbing progressively harder circles against you. āAll youāve done is sit here and stuff yourself into a useless pile of lard. Thatās your role, big boy. Sit here, eat yourself even fatter and more pathetic than you were before, and let me get off on it. Donāt forget it.ā
You let out a loud moan as you soak through your boxers again. I donāt let up.
āToo- hard. It hurtsāā I interrupt your complaint with another donut shoved into your open mouth. You let out several muffled whines and moans through the mouthful as I rub myself against you 3 more times. After one final hard circle against your cock, I pull away and look at you.
You look huge. Covered in thick, heavy fat. Breathing heavily from the strain of your constant hedonism, the effects of your gluttonous habits are written all over your body.
Your eyes are fixed on me, silently pleading but half-lidded, like youāre exhausted. Your cheeks are round and smeared with chocolate icing. Your jaw is still working on the donut, and the chins under it jiggle as you chew.
You look pathetic. Your neck and shoulders are softened with fat, your arms round and flabby. Your chest has been buried underneath two fat man-tits, followed by thick rolls of fat that stretch all the way to your back.
Your stomach is the star of the show, though. The upper half, swollen from all the food you stuffed down, pushes up against your tits and upper rolls. From there it hangs forward, heavy and round and red, littered with stretch marks. It commands space in your lap, and stretches around your hips into big, puffy love handles.
ā
a/n: i might add more to this later (likee some actual sex šāāļø), but i like what i have rn :p . i cant keep waiting for everything to be perfect or whatever to post it yk.
You finish chewing and swallow with another whine.
āAre you ready to be a good boy?ā
You let out a small noise of agreement. Most days I would have forced a proper response out of you, but you look so dazed and stupid I donāt even bother.
āGood. Lean back, big boyā I instruct, and you oblige. I tug your tight boxers down, motioning for you to lift your hips. You grunt with the effort, lifting them just enough for me to pull the boxers under the plush of your ass before plopping back down heavily and letting out a sigh.
Your dick springs up when I pull the boxers off your front, and I grab and stroke it softly. The poor thing is now a few inches shorter than it used to be, surrounded by and buried in soft lard. I lower my head and give a light, tentative lick to the crease between your fatpad and your thigh, then a long, flat lick along the exposed length of your cock. This elicits a few increasingly pathetic whimpers from you.
āYouāre such a pig,ā I pull away and take in the sight of your huge body, my eyes filled with lust. āYouāve really let yourself go, huh?ā I bite my lip, walk my fingers up the side of your stomach. You nod quickly, half-lidded eyes pained with need and desperation. I climb onto your lap once more, motioning for you to hold your belly up so I can get closer.
āWhat a useless pig youāve become.ā I position my near dripping cunt over you. āSay it.ā
āIām a pigā Ohhh, fuck.ā You moan as I lower myself onto your cock. I take it all (all thatās left, anyway) and rest my hips on your plush thighs to give myself a chance to adjust. You let out a low moan when I slap your swollen gut. āMhmm. And what else?ā
āF-fuck. Iāmāā You struggle to focus as I start riding your cock. āI have no self-control. Iām ruining myself. I keep eating and stuffing myself and I canāt stop. Unnnh- Iām a fat, worthless pig.ā Youāre out of breath.
āGood boy,ā I praise. I grab onto your love handles and the rest of your body jiggles with them. We continue on like this for few minutes: me grabbing at and playing with the fat hanging off your helpless body as your whimpers and moans get increasingly louder and more pathetic between each struggling breath.
āFuck. Fuck. Iām gonna- Iāmāā I feel the heat rush inside of me before you can finish your sentence. I slow to a stop, resting on your thighs as your cum dribbles out of me. You continue with your panting, big gut rising up and down with each breath.
After a minute, I lean over your belly and turn your chubby face towards me. With your eyes glazed over, you almost look like an animal.
A dumb pig.
āThat was pretty quick, piggy. Seems like you have even less control over your dick than you do over your appetite.ā I smirk. No response from you; youāre too tired. āAw, maybe I should cut you some slack.. Sitting there and letting me do all the work must be soo exhausting.ā
I pull off of you and stand up. Still no verbal response, but you whine softly when I pull away. āWell, I hate to break it to you, but you still have some more work to do.ā You turn your eyes towards the box of donuts on the end table next to you; there are still four left. You let out a pathetic whimper.
āDonāt whine, big boy. Be a good piggy and finish these up for me.ā š
ā ā ā
a/n: my first post is getting a little attention (yayy!) so that inspired me to wrap this part up :) thank you guys :p
The dorm room at Riverdale University was a cluttered haven of textbooks, empty energy drink cans, and the low pulse of lo-fi music from a laptop. Late Novemberās chill lingered outside, but the radiator made the small space stifling. Noah, a lean biology major with dark curls and a tendency to overthink, sprawled on his bed, half-reading notes. Lucas, his blond, broad-shouldered kinesiology-major roommate, lounged across from him, exuding easy confidence. Their friendship, over a year strong, was a rhythm of shared meals, late-night laughs, and pranks. But tonight, fueled by exam stress and a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka Lucas had smuggled in, the air crackled with tension.
āDude, you ever wonder what itād be like to justā¦ let loose?ā Lucasās voice cut through the music, low and teasing, blue eyes glinting.
Noah glanced up, brow furrowed. āWhat?ā
Lucas leaned back, hands behind his head, T-shirt riding up to reveal toned abs. āSomething wild. No consequences. Just feels good.ā
Noahās cheeks warmed, but he played it cool. āLike stealing the mascot costume again?ā
Lucasās laugh was warm, his gaze intense. āNah. Something real. Somethingā¦ raw.ā
The vodka loosened their tongues, spiraling the conversation into crushes, fantasies, secrets. The room shrank, the space between them electric. Lucasās knee brushed Noahās on the narrow bed, and neither pulled away. Lucasās hand found Noahās thigh, igniting a spark that burned away hesitation. Noahās breath hitched as Lucas leaned in, their lips crashing in a hungry, vodka-fueled kiss.
Clothes hit the floor in a frenzy. Lucasās hands roamed Noahās lean frame, rough and sure, guiding him onto the bed. Noahās heart pounded as Lucasās cock, hard and thick, pressed against him. Lucas took control, lips trailing down Noahās neck, hands spreading his thighs. Noah moaned as Lucasās fingers teased his ass, slick with spit, preparing him. The first thrust was slow, Lucasās cock filling him, stretching him, the sensation raw and electric. Noah clutched the sheets, body arching, every nerve alive as Lucas moved faster, deeper, their breaths syncing in a primal rhythm. When Lucas came, his cum hot and pulsing inside Noah, it triggered Noahās release, spilling across his stomach. They collapsed, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, Lucasās grin lazy and satisfied.
As Noah caught his breath, a strange warmth spread through his coreānot just the afterglow, but a deep, visceral pressure in his gut. He brushed it off as nerves or vodka, but something felt different.
āØThe next morning, Noah woke with a throbbing head and shuffled to the bathroom. His reflection stopped him cold: his face was softer, cheeks fuller, jawline blurred. The scale read 175 pounds, up from his usual 160. āWhat the fuck?ā he muttered, trying again. Same number. His jeans dug into his hips, denim snug across his thighs, T-shirt clinging to a soft curve at his stomach. Panic surged. Heād been meticulousālean proteins, veggies, no binges. Fifteen pounds overnight was impossible.
Lucas was out for his morning run, so Noah headed to class alone, hyper-aware of his heavier steps, thighs brushing together. At the dining hall, his appetite was feral. He piled his tray with pizza, fries, and a milkshake, devouring it all, the gut pressure easing into euphoric fullness. That night, Lucas returned, sweaty and radiant. āYou good?ā he asked, noticing Noahās unease.
Lucas smirked, skeptical. āYou look fine, man. Stress, probably.ā But when Lucasās hand grazed Noahās arm, that electric heat flared, and Noahās resolve crumbled. They were kissing before he could think, Lucas tugging off Noahās too-tight shirt, revealing his softened belly. Noah dropped to his knees, eager, sucking Lucasās cock with a hunger that surprised them both. Lucas groaned, fingers in Noahās curls, guiding him until he came, his cum flooding Noahās mouth, thick and warm. Noah swallowed, the act addictive, the warmth spreading again. They moved to the bed, Lucas fucking him hard, each thrust driving Noah wild, his body craving more even as the gut pressure grew. When it was over, Noah felt heavier, sated but unsettled.
The scale read 190 the next morning.
Over the next week, Noahās life unraveled. Each encounter with Lucasāfrantic, cock-driven nightsāleft him heavier. By weekās end, he was 220 pounds. His jeans wouldnāt button; sweatpants strained at the seams. His shirts stretched tight across his chest, his once-flat stomach now a soft, jiggly belly. His face was puffy, a double chin forming. Walking to class was exhausting; his thighs chafed, and he was breathless after one flight of stairs. Lecture hall desks pinched his hips, and he caught classmatesā whispers in the dining hall. His biology professor, Dr. Hensley, asked if he was āfeeling okay.ā Noah mumbled excusesāstress, medicationābut he knew the truth: Lucasās cum was doing this, some impossible, hyper-fattening magic. The thought was absurd, but the evidence was undeniable.
Worse, Noah craved it. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to lose the weight, to figure out why this was happening. He tried cutting calories, hitting the gym, but nothing worked. The weight clung, and the hunger for Lucas grew. Every kiss, every suck, every thrust fed an addiction he couldnāt explain. It wasnāt just physicalāLucasās touch made him feel alive, desired, whole. Each night, Noah would beg for more, Lucasās cock filling his mouth or ass, the cum triggering that warm, heavy rush that left him both sated and ravenous.
āØBy early December, Noah was 280 pounds. His daily life was unrecognizable. Getting out of bed took effort, his mattress creaking under his bulk. Showering was a chore; the dormās narrow stall felt claustrophobic, his belly brushing the walls. He avoided social events, dreading stares, and skipped classes when he could, hiding in the dorm with delivery pizza and Netflix. Lucas, still fit and unaffected, seemed oblivious to the cause but noticed Noahās changes. āYouāre lookingā¦ cozy,ā he teased one night, poking Noahās belly playfully. Noah flushed, torn between embarrassment and a thrill at the attention.
Their encounters grew more intense. One night, Lucas pinned Noah to the bed, his hands gripping Noahās softened hips, cock teasing his ass before thrusting deep. Noah moaned, his belly jiggling with each movement, the sensation heightened by his growing bulk. Lucasās cum filled him, the warmth spreading faster, more intense, as Noah came hard, his own cock trapped against his heavy stomach. The addiction deepened, Noah begging for Lucasās cum nightly, swallowing it or taking it inside, each load pushing his weight higher.
āØChristmas break loomed, and Noah dreaded it. At 300 pounds, he was returning home, where his family would see his transformation. More terrifying was three weeks without Lucasāa dry spell that could break him. The night before he left, they fucked with desperate intensity. Lucasās cock drove into Noahās ass, his hands gripping Noahās thick thighs, cum flooding him as Noah trembled, the warmth overwhelming. The next morning, the scale confirmed 300 pounds. Noah barely recognized himself: his face round, neck swallowed by rolls, belly a massive dome hanging over his waistband, thighs wobbly. Packing was a nightmare; he resorted to oversized hoodies and stretchy joggers from a big-and-tall store.
At home, his familyās shock was palpable. His mom suggested doctors and diets, his dad made awkward jokes about ācollege weight.ā Noah retreated to his bedroom, binging on holiday treatsācookies, pies, lasagnaāto dull the gnawing ache for Lucas. The cravings were relentless, food a poor substitute. He texted Lucas constantly, each flirty reply fueling his need. By the end of the break, heād gained another 30 pounds, hitting 330. His childhood bed groaned, and he avoided family photos, ashamed of how his body spilled over chairs.
The night before returning to Riverdale, Noah lay awake, consumed by thoughts of Lucasās cock, his cum, the rush. He texted Lucas, fingers trembling: *Miss you. Need you.* Lucasās reply was instant: *Same, man. Dormās too quiet.*
Back at Riverdale, Noahās cravings exploded. Seeing Lucas, lean and grinning, ignited a feral need. They barely spoke before Noah was on his knees, sucking Lucasās cock with desperate hunger, swallowing every drop of cum. Lucas fucked him after, Noahās massive belly pressed against the bed, each thrust sending ripples through his flesh. The scale read 350 pounds the next morning. Noahās body felt foreign yet thrilling, his addiction stronger than ever.
āØBy February, Noah was 400 pounds. Daily life was a struggle. Walking across campus was a marathon, his breath short, sweat beading. He switched to online classes, unable to fit in lecture hall seats. His dorm bed sagged, and heād broken a dining hall chair, the humiliation burning. Eating became a ritualāpizzas, burgers, gallons of ice creamāto chase the high Lucasās cum provided. Their sex was relentless: Lucasās cock in Noahās mouth, cum coating his throat, or deep in his ass, each load adding pounds. Noahās belly grew massive, his thighs thick, his arms heavy with fat.
Lucas remained attentive, his hands lingering on Noahās softened body, teasing, āYouāre all mine.ā Noah tried once to stop, skipping a night with Lucas to diet, but the withdrawalāshakes, sweats, a clawing hungerāwas unbearable. By midnight, he was begging, tears in his eyes, Lucasās cock filling him as the warmth returned.
The conflict tore at Noah. Heād stare at old photos, his lean frame a memory, vowing to stop. But the addiction was stronger. Lucasās cum was his drug, each load a hit that made the weight feelā¦ right. He stopped going to the gym, stopped checking the scale, stopped caring about stares. All that mattered was Lucasās touch, the cum, the rush.
āØBy April, Noah hit 500 pounds. He was barely mobile, his days spent in the dorm, propped on pillows, surrounded by takeout containers. His belly dominated, a heavy mass spilling across his lap, making tasks like tying shoes impossible. His face was buried in rolls, his chest heavy. Getting up took minutes, each movement laborious. Lucas helped, bringing food, adjusting pillows, his affection unwavering. But Noah saw worry in his eyes, a flicker of guilt they didnāt address.
Their sex adapted to Noahās size. Lucas would climb over his bulk, cock sliding into Noahās mouth or ass, the act slower but no less intense. Noah craved every drop, the warmth fueling his surrender. Heād given up fighting, the addiction his world.
āØBy May, Noah was immobile at nearly 600 pounds. The dorm bed was reinforced, paid for by Lucasās job earnings. Noahās body was a landscape of rolls, his belly pinning him in place. He relied on Lucas for everythingāfood, water, hygiene. The addiction had won. Each encounter added pounds, Lucasās cum a constant craving. Lucas stayed, loyal despite the strain, bringing trays of food, sitting for hours, their connection deeper yet heavier.
Noahās life shrank to the dorm. He dropped out of in-person classes, grades slipping, friends gone, family calls dodged. But surrender brought peace. Heād fought and lost. This was who he wasāimmobile, dependent, consumed by want. As Lucasās hand rested on his massive side, Noah knew heād never go back.
āAww, poor piggy. Did you eat too much? Thatās okay, we can take a break for now..ā
I canāt help but pity you a bit when you get like this. In too deep, flushed and struggling to catch your breath, stuck in place like a beached whale.
āYouāve been so good for me, piggy.ā I purr in your ear, playing with your hair. āAnd itās gotten me all worked up.ā I slip off my shorts and panties and, in a smooth motion, slide myself across your thighs so I sit straddling you. I reach a hand out to brush your stuffed gut and you whimper in pain. You would have flinched away if you werenāt weighed down right now.
āAw, itās okay, piggy. Donāt you want to make me feel good?ā The whimpers of pain begin to mix with pleasure as I lightly run my hand around your belly. āGood boy.ā
I rise onto my knees and start slowly grinding my heat against your fatpad. I brush lightly, just barely touching as I move up to your lower stomach, running my wet pussy up and down the line of your happy trail. I relish in every reaction you give me: every whine and moan, every whimper of pain and pleasure and overstimulation. You shake underneath me with pleasure and anticipation.
I stop for a second when I brush against your dick, rock-hard and half-buried in the soft blubber of your fat pad and inner thighs. Of course, your boxers are already damp. āYouāve really got no self control at all, do you?ā I muse. Pathetic.
I rub myself over your tip, teasing myself with slow, circular motions. The roughness of the material of your boxers against my swollen clit makes me moan with pleasure.
āYeah, you like that..?ā You murmur through panted breaths.
I slow, stop.
āDonāt pretend like youāre doing any work here, fatty.ā I start again, rubbing progressively harder circles against you. āAll youāve done is sit here and stuff yourself into a useless pile of lard. Thatās your role, big boy. Sit here, eat yourself even fatter and more pathetic than you were before, and let me get off on it. Donāt forget it.ā
You let out a loud moan as you soak through your boxers again. I donāt let up.
āToo- hard. It hurtsāā I interrupt your complaint with another donut shoved into your open mouth. You let out several muffled whines and moans through the mouthful as I rub myself against you 3 more times. After one final hard circle against your cock, I pull away and look at you.
You look huge. Covered in thick, heavy fat. Breathing heavily from the strain of your constant hedonism, the effects of your gluttonous habits are written all over your body.
Your eyes are fixed on me, silently pleading but half-lidded, like youāre exhausted. Your cheeks are round and smeared with chocolate icing. Your jaw is still working on the donut, and the chins under it jiggle as you chew.
You look pathetic. Your neck and shoulders are softened with fat, your arms round and flabby. Your chest has been buried underneath two fat man-tits, followed by thick rolls of fat that stretch all the way to your back.
Your stomach is the star of the show, though. The upper half, swollen from all the food you stuffed down, pushes up against your tits and upper rolls. From there it hangs forward, heavy and round and red, littered with stretch marks. It commands space in your lap, and stretches around your hips into big, puffy love handles.
ā
a/n: i might add more to this later (likee some actual sex šāāļø), but i like what i have rn :p . i cant keep waiting for everything to be perfect or whatever to post it yk.
For starters, Iād like to get you nice and comfortable, like on a comfy couch kinda vibe. Blankets, pillows, something nice on the TV. Then, Iād like to go get some of your favorite yummy treats and put them in front of you. Except instead of āsomeā I mean āa lotā. And while youāre munching away, I wanna make ā or go buy ā your favorite meal(s), which I will happily serve to you while you keep relaxing. And when youāve nearly finished that, and youāre leaned back into the cushions, starting to feel full, I wanna ask if I could get you some dessert; maybe ice cream? Iāll bring you a huge bowl, sprinkled with toppings, and some cookies; I know you didnāt ask for cookies but we do have a bunch of your favorite kind so.. Itās okay if you start slowing down as you fill up, just make sure youāre satisfied and are enjoying yourself. But keep going ā I wanna start vocalizing some mock dismay over the size of your appetite; surely a girl canāt be this hungry, right? Thereās no way you can really be such a glutton ā presses on full tummy, eliciting a soft groan ā you havenāt actually been this much of a greedy lil piggy, right? You must be hiding food somewhere, like under the couch.. right? Itās just not actually hard to believe youāve really eaten all this food so far, and are still going. Oh, speaking ofā¦ getting so full itās hard to keep lifting more yummyness up to your lips? Thatās okay, I can help you. Just open your mouth and let me keep filling it with more bites ā be the greedy, good girl we both know you are. I just wanna see you keep eating nā stretching out your stomach til youāre about to burst is all.
I mean.. You do crave the feeling of being overfilled ā knowing that deep, encompassing fullness is gonna lead to you gaining, getting fatter ā you canāt help but get wet thinking about it. And I love that. I love enabling you, teasing you, praising you; itās not my fault that your tummy looks so fucking good when itās filled to the brim with calories.
It might be a little bit my fault that youāre so fat, though. Oops.
For my closing thoughts ā after youāve done all that hard work eating way more than a dayās worth of calories, I wanna play with you. It wouldnāt be any fun if I didnāt, right? I wanna feel that belly that youāve done such a good job filling up for me. Iāll lay my hands on it, press on it, rub it; really just enjoy how heavy and firm your belly is, trying my best to help the fullness feeling that has you practically comatose. Of course, Iāll touch everywhere, not just the tummy. I wanna feel those fat thighs and hips, your titties, maybe your arms or that chubby neck. And your pussy. Iām going to make you feel really, really good. Iāll make you cum, as many times as I can. Iāll use my hands, Iāll use toys, Iāll fuck you. Breed you. I will make you feel so good, so much more than good, that you canāt wait to stuff yourself again for me. Knowing that every single time you do, Iām gonna make you feel a level of ecstasy that you canāt get ANYWHERE else ā itāll just be too tempting.
But ya know.. maybe definitely not really I could want something else.. just theorizing is all. Thanks for asking, cute stuff š
I wanna sit with you as you stuff yourself way too much. Work was stressful, you're tired, but comin home to do this? Makes it so much better. I bet you were aching all day to feel like this. To fill yourself up like this, to the point it aches and you can't stop the little burps and hiccups.
Your tummy is just so full and tight, isn't it, baby? Let me help you feel better. I wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie we barely can pay attention to - you because you're so full and achey and me because I'm so focused on you. Let me pop your button open on your jeans. I don't even need to unzip your zipper, the way your belly pushes out instantly as that awful button is undone unzips it for you.
I'd rub your poor belly, which I can feel is gurgling and churning under my fingers. You reallllly did eat too much, huh? Maybe you feel a little nauseous- you're so greedy, just couldn't help yourself, hm? It's okay, you look so good like this.
Don't try and hide those burps or hiccups. Your belly wants relief, and you can't help it. I can help them along too, pressing my fingers into the taut dome of your stomach, making you whine and moan from the pain, till you tell me to be more gentle.
My fingers gliding under your shirt, feeling how tight you are. The way you've rounded yourself so nicely for me... Protruding out from your hips. I'd be so turned on by you... And I know you're turned on too. Slowing tracing my hand down to those undone jeans, slipping my hand carefully past them and to your underwear.
God, you really are turned on, aren't you? Dirty. Let me touch you. Feel how much you want it. Are you close? God, you're so sexy like this. I want to be on top of you or have you on top of me. You can let go in my hand, baby. You achey little mess.
Isn't this everything you've ever wanted? A fat belly resting on your chest while you feed it more and more. You get to actually feel it get tighter. Watch it jiggle less and less while you fill it up beyond its natural limit.
Meanwhile I'm moaning and burping in your face.
This is everything I've ever fantasized about. I just want to keep growing.
Ryan, a.k.a. BigBoi has a long history of shirtless dancing videos. He was on and off YT before starting a patreon with similar videos.
Damn. The size difference.
I remember him getting unexpectedly chubbier in 2016, about 260 pounds or so, then time passed by and he somehow got to over 275.
He was active on patreon in 2021-2022, never revealing his weight, but you can tell there was growth spurt hitting in.
He admittedly changed from L in High School to XXL that time. I wonder if those 2X-s are still enough to contain that gut.
BigBoi doesn't mind the attention. He likes to show off his enormous body.
He has recently (very recently) reactivated his Patreon, so hopefully he will stick around this time. Just like the calories sticking to his stomach.
Patreon: Bigboifunnyfilms
feed me into death @fullfatbabe - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
areudirty
2087
stormborns
theartofmadeline
izzy806
