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@greatbigfatguy
If a guy’s so big he struggles to get off the couch, that just means there’s more time during the day for me to bounce on his cock right? Or, well, you know. Attempt to.
Now that you mention it, it has been getting harder and harder to get up off the couch lately...
...pizza stuffed...
...ended up finishing 2 large pizzas
...pizza stuffed...
“I just don’t get it,” he complains from his dented spot on the couch, legs spread and belly pooling between thick, near feminal thighs. “I eat salads. I’ve even been exercising.” He gestures with his arm, indicating the fitbit pinching his wrist. “My steps are totally up. I just don’t get where all the weight is coming from.”
His feeder eyes him up. He’s reclined as much as he can be, and between his legs is a tub of chocolates he’s powering through during his rant. A family bag of chips lays discarded next to his hip. He needs the contrast– the sweetness to cleanse his palette from the grease and salt. What a refined palette he has.
“What’s the sensitivity on the watch?”
He huffs. “I put it on high. You know I don’t always move my arms when I walk. The dumb thing costs all that money, but it wasn’t even counting it.”
Waddle, his feeder’s brain supplies. Waddling isn’t in the code.
“Are you sure it’s not counting you putting your hand to your mouth?”
He glowers, wiping melted chocolate from around his mouth with a thumb, licking it off. “You could at least be supportive instead of being such a dick.”
“You’re right,” the feeder decides. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”
“It has to be all the chemicals they’re pumping into the food. The – uh – additives, or something.” As he rubs the stretch-mark addled side of his fat gut with his free hand, he adds, “America has a weight problem.”
“Because of the chemicals,” his feeder recites, trying their best to make sense of the truth.
“Yeah. At this rate, no one has a chance of losing any weight at all. Hey–”
“Yeah?”
“Can you get me that coke bottle from the fridge? I’m parched.”
“The… liter bottle? I thought you were on a diet.”
“It is diet,” he retorts. “Besides, everyone knows drinks don’t count. Everyone needs to stay hydrated. Staying hydrated doesn’t mean calories.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go get that now, okay?”
“On your way back, grab my pen too, okay? I think I left it next to that baking tray you used earlier. All that ‘America / chemicals’ talk has bummed me out.”
“Sure thing.” So the feeder grabs him his liter of coke and the weed pen from beside the empty brownie tray. “To dieting,” they cheers, handing him his requested items.
“God. Yeah. Wish me luck. I fucking need it.”
ib: greatbigfatguy
...I mean...this does sound like my kind of diet...
And you just don’t know how the pounds are piling up, right? It’s a mystery…
You're right, it is a mystery....also, this diet soda tastes weird, maybe I should just switch back to regular...
“I just don’t get it,” he complains from his dented spot on the couch, legs spread and belly pooling between thick, near feminal thighs. “I eat salads. I’ve even been exercising.” He gestures with his arm, indicating the fitbit pinching his wrist. “My steps are totally up. I just don’t get where all the weight is coming from.”
His feeder eyes him up. He’s reclined as much as he can be, and between his legs is a tub of chocolates he’s powering through during his rant. A family bag of chips lays discarded next to his hip. He needs the contrast– the sweetness to cleanse his palette from the grease and salt. What a refined palette he has.
“What’s the sensitivity on the watch?”
He huffs. “I put it on high. You know I don’t always move my arms when I walk. The dumb thing costs all that money, but it wasn’t even counting it.”
Waddle, his feeder’s brain supplies. Waddling isn’t in the code.
“Are you sure it’s not counting you putting your hand to your mouth?”
He glowers, wiping melted chocolate from around his mouth with a thumb, licking it off. “You could at least be supportive instead of being such a dick.”
“You’re right,” the feeder decides. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”
“It has to be all the chemicals they’re pumping into the food. The – uh – additives, or something.” As he rubs the stretch-mark addled side of his fat gut with his free hand, he adds, “America has a weight problem.”
“Because of the chemicals,” his feeder recites, trying their best to make sense of the truth.
“Yeah. At this rate, no one has a chance of losing any weight at all. Hey–”
“Yeah?”
“Can you get me that coke bottle from the fridge? I’m parched.”
“The… liter bottle? I thought you were on a diet.”
“It is diet,” he retorts. “Besides, everyone knows drinks don’t count. Everyone needs to stay hydrated. Staying hydrated doesn’t mean calories.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go get that now, okay?”
“On your way back, grab my pen too, okay? I think I left it next to that baking tray you used earlier. All that ‘America / chemicals’ talk has bummed me out.”
“Sure thing.” So the feeder grabs him his liter of coke and the weed pen from beside the empty brownie tray. “To dieting,” they cheers, handing him his requested items.
“God. Yeah. Wish me luck. I fucking need it.”
ib: greatbigfatguy
...I mean...this does sound like my kind of diet...
What do you think of the view? ...I'm not getting too fat, am I?
...or maybe I'm not fat enough?
So, how come you like being fat?😋
Well, I've been fat pretty much my whole life, so I don't know any other way to be lol.
As far as all of this stuff goes, I like being praised for being so fat. I enjoy some teasing (just not too mean, don't hurt my feelings too bad haha). I like being encouraged to keep getting fatter. And I love food and overeating (shocking, right?).
What do you think of the view? ...I'm not getting too fat, am I?
...or maybe I'm not fat enough?
What I see when I look down....my lap seems to be rapidly disappearing, not sure how that's happening....I am pretty hungry though, bring me a box of snack cakes?
"Hey, so, I know we just ate dinner, and it was delicious, but....I'm still hungry...I just can't seem to get enough lately...I know I've gained some weight recently, but I don't care. I want more...and dessert too..."
So. What are you going to bring me?
It's getting harder to hold my arm out long enough to get all of me in frame...
Lazy Saturday. In the mood to hear from some of you. How about leave some stuff in my inbox. Want to just leave some nice comments? Want to make some suggestions of what you'd like to see? Want to ask some questions? Want to tease me for letting myself get this fat? Want to tell me how much fatter you think I should get? Go for it, anything goes. Even if you want to be anon.
Think I'm gonna have to retire these gym shorts. They never once came anywhere close to a gym though.
garbage disposal ass boyfriend who you can always give your food to when you can't finish it and he's so polite he doesn't turn down even a full plate of stuff so he ends up with quite the round and taut belly but he knows it was worth it for the rubs at home
Hey, it's me. That's me lol.
Every time you reblog this post, 10lbs will go straight to your waistline.
....oooops....
I miiiiight have gained a little weight since I joined tumblr...
Lazy Saturday. In the mood to hear from some of you. How about leave some stuff in my inbox. Want to just leave some nice comments? Want to make some suggestions of what you'd like to see? Want to ask some questions? Want to tease me for letting myself get this fat? Want to tell me how much fatter you think I should get? Go for it, anything goes. Even if you want to be anon.
