Little King Terry

Hi! My name is Terry • 27 • Trans Man • He / Him • Gay Feede • Mexican Illustrator Multi Fandom, OC's, NSFW, Kink & WG •

[littlekingterry]

Okay guys, it's very likely I'll be getting laid off from my job soon, so I'll be doing commissions again ^w^ I'll update my price list with the new prices at the beginning of the year, but the old list is still valid for the rest of December ^w^

[whoopi-kush]

Caught sandwich-handed 🫢🥪

[littlekingterry]

It's always nice to see a big kid getting even bigger.

Commission for bumbonanza (twitter)

[me-gustan-gordos-deactivated201]

[begginerbelly]

Hey I’m a huge admirer here!! 😍I love and admire your body so much!!! Your body and size is my goal! Im slim now about 175lbs but I want to get fatter and I really hope I can grow to your size one day! I wish I could look just like you, to have that belly and those moobs, those thighs and an ass like that would be my dream. Any advice for someone starting that wants to gain weight and be as big as you?? How does it feel to be your size? x

Thank you so much!!!! Honestly it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for me and I love it so much 😍 can’t promise how you’ll look as that’s down to genetics I guess but the only advice there can be for this is eat more calories than you burn and you’ll grow. Make sure you keep food around you that you like and can eat whenever, build habits that help you eat more (I have at least 1 pizza every day off from work ontop of the rest of my meals), liquid calories like shakes really help an just enjoying the journey as you grow 😍 feeling my body swell and fold or jiggle and bounce as my clothes tighten and tear knowing the next ones won’t last long feels amazing and correct 😈 I was in the 160s when I started so you’re off to a good start 🤓

[begginerbelly]

Look at you, already carrying all that soft weight around and still acting like you’re not completely addicted to getting bigger. You’re going to keep going, aren’t you? Stuffing your face every single day until that belly drops even lower, those thighs get thicker, and your whole body swells up nice and heavy.

In a couple of years you’ll be properly enormous. That gut will hang so low it rests heavily on your upper thighs even when you stand, swinging and slapping loudly with every slow, wide waddle. It’ll be covered in deep soft folds, warm and sensitive, spreading wide across your lap the moment you sit down. Your moobs will be full and bouncy, resting on top of that belly, your sides spilling over in thick rolls, your ass massive and wide, spreading out and making chairs creak. Your thighs will rub constantly, your fat pad so deep and heavy that your cock is completely buried, your arms thick and soft, neck with warm rolls, and your face rounder with a proper double chin.

You’ll move slower, breathing heavier after just a few steps, struggling to fit in normal spaces, needing to turn sideways in doorways, getting tired way faster. Simple things like tying your shoes or reaching for something on the floor will be a proper production. But you won’t stop eating. You’ll still waddle to the fridge and stuff yourself because that’s what you are now, a greedy, growing fat boy who can’t help but keep expanding.

If I was sitting right next to you I’d have my hands all over that massive body. I’d lift that heavy belly with both hands, feeling how warm and soft it is, then let it drop heavily while I squeeze and grope the thick rolls on your sides. I’d slide my hand underneath that overhang, pushing between your fat pad and thighs, trying to get to your cock while you’re too busy stuffing your face to even notice at first. Once you’ve finished everything I’d slowly recline you back, push those thick thighs apart, and bury my head under that huge gut. I’d feel your heavy belly resting on my forehead as I move, licking and sucking while you’re still catching your breath from eating. Eventually I’d get you to hold that massive belly up out of the way so I can really get in deep.

If anyone deserves to be this big, it’s begginerbelly. I’ve never spoken to a gainer who wants it more. This pig needs to grow

These are the sort of asks I get on here that really help me stuff my face 🥵 Thank you for saying I deserve it as well. Honestly, there is nothing more I want in life than just to be made into the fat person I am supposed to be. The thought of being like that fuck me. That definitely gets me hard. I am actually getting a bit out of breath just thinking about it.

This is exactly what I want. I want to be that big. I want that heavy hanging belly, those thick thighs, the waddle, the rolls, the way everything moves and jiggles. I want to be a proper greedy, growing fat boy who can’t stop expanding. The thought of my cock being buried under all that fat, my belly resting heavily on my thighs, struggling with simple things but still stuffing my face… God yes.

Keep telling me how big I am going to get. I need this so much 😈

[littlekingterry]

Another work in progress, I love drawing chubby prince

[c4ndyc41n]

weeknight tinkering ✨

y’all mind if I repost some old jv art that never saw the light of day outside twt/bsky? 🥹

[tboytummmy]

🚨 Warning! 🚨 Fat Boy Summer has arrived!!! 🥥🌴🌺🌅🌊

[littlekingterry]

Voxybu is that you?

[littlekingterry]

big ass + cellulite = perfect match

[weepingwidar]

Anthony Hurd (American, 1975) - You Have This Hold Over Me (2025)

[littlekingterry]

Jayce has successfully completed his birthday feeding session, but now he's so full and excited that he urgently needs Viktor's hands on his belly and his c**k.

Anyway... Happy Birthday to my beautiful Jayce <3 UwUr

[bbencourgr]

I Can't Stop Eating

by Ben Courger

Just a tasty one-off tidbit to whet the appetite...

I can’t stop eating. Look at me. I’m so fat now, and I keep getting bigger and bigger. I haven’t been to the gym in over a year. I mean, I know I was fat before, but…

When we started going out, I was like 280 or something. I thought I was fucking huge. You remember? And you’d take me out to dinner. Come by after work with dessert, or wake me up with breakfast in bed. My friends all warned me. Showed me pictures of me before and after I met you. Six months of dating you made me 80lbs fatter. And now… fuck, they were so right… it’s been barely two years, and look at me now! I can’t believe what you’ve done to me. Did you know this whole time I was going to be a fucking blob? I used to be scared I would end up like this, but even when you’re not around, I can’t stop eating. 

I stuff myself before bed, but I’m down in the kitchen in the middle of the night… I feel my rolls of fat jiggling with every step down the stairs, and it just gets me even hungrier. I’m ploughing through whatever I didn’t finish at dinner, and I hear you on the stairs. I see you looking at me. Looking at what you’ve turned me into. Does it make you proud? I see you smiling at me, stuffing my face even though I’m so full I’m in pain and can barely breathe. I know it gets you hot. Please, I’m begging you… Please, I can’t stop eating. You gotta promise. You know how much this scares me, but you gotta push me. I can’t stop eating. I need to be fatter. I need to be heavier. I need to push myself every day. And you need to push the food into me if I say I’m full. I can’t stop eating. I gotta eat all the grease. Drink all the sugar. Just like you said, as much as I can. Every day. 

I can’t stop eating. It’s not enough. I need to drop more muscle too, I know. Get weaker. I need to really tank my stamina. I’ve seen you watch me struggle to get up the stairs. Do you know how that makes me feel? I feel like crap that I can still do that. I hate disappointing you. I promise, that’s gonna stop. I need to be way too fat to do shit like that. And I want people to know it when they look at me too. They should hear me huffing and puffing… see me sweating and out of breath just standing there talking to them. That’s who they need to see… But I’m too small now. Too strong. That’s why you gotta keep pushing me. Please. I can’t stop eating.

If you like what you've read, see Ben Courger's complete library available on Amazon Kindle (Kindle is free to download)

[fatlich]

I've been very lazy and distracted lately, but here's some Cassius pretending to be a water balloon.

[fattndup]

relationship weight

[fatlibrarian]

Too Fat

Synopsis: Some goal weights are meant to be passed. Some are not - but they’ll get passed anyway…

When people ask what it’s like, being my size, being so big? I always tell them the truth:

I’m too fat to get to my bedroom now.

There’s other problems, sure, but that’s the one that really makes people’s eyes bug.

And I don’t mean that getting fat got me lazy, or that I get too tired climbing the stairs to the second floor of my home. I don’t mean that I have to waddle sideways to get through the door. I don’t mean that my bedroom’s too small to be comfortable moving around in it.

I mean that I can’t lift my super-sized legs high enough off the ground to use the stairs.

It’s not a chore to get to the second floor of my own damn home - it’s physically impossible. There aren’t that many people who can say that. “Yeah - I’ve effectively trapped myself in my own living room because I got too fat to lift my feet three inches off the ground.” That’s no one’s life but mine.

And yeah, you heard me right - trapped in the living room. There’s a bit of a raised lip to get to the kitchen, and if I don’t focus and push myself to actually lift my feet, I’ll trip on it and be stuck on the ground until a few of my friends can come over to help me up. Thankfully the bathroom is level with the living room.

Sure, I can also “technically” leave the house - but the front door has a step. I’d be stuck outside if I ever did. Plus, I’d probably be arrested for public indecency because I don’t have any fucking clothes that fit.

You know 300 was my goal weight? My first one anyway. I was 160 when I graduated high school, real lean, but just a bit of softness around the middle for my height. Gained 25 pounds during undergrad, lost it, gained it back, plus an extra 15. Plateaued for a few years. Long enough to start to see 200 as my base weight instead of 160. Realized I liked the weight. Like, really liked it. Figured I could gain some more. Just to see. 300 is 100 pounds heavier than 200, so it seemed like a good enough number as any.

And fuck, getting to that number was fantastic. I denied myself nothing. Drive-thru visits every day, finishing all my friends' leftovers. Feeling myself get softer, jiggling my gut in the mirror, stressing out all of my jeans. Hearing my friends’ jokes and comments about my fat body as I grew to be larger than every one of them, as I grew to be ‘the fat friend’.

And I could feel it tax my body. More than two flights of stairs got me winded, and I needed a break climbing the steps to my friends’ apartments. I sold my bike after a year when I realized my ass had outgrown the seat. I had just gotten fat enough where my thick thighs were starting to modify my walk into something resembling a waddle. Spending anything more than an hour on my feet made them sore when it used to take most of the day. I was constantly hungry when I used to be able to go hours without eating before. And it was hot, feeling all of these changes, feeling myself turn into something different. Feeling fat.

But not too fat.

I didn’t want to stop. That was my real problem back then. I hit a weight that I was comfortable with. I was fat - often, but not usually the fattest at any store or restaurant, but not fat enough to have “real” fat people problems. But it felt too good. I didn’t want to stop eating. I probably could have at that point, but it felt too good to stop.

Plus, 320 pounds was so close, and then I’d have doubled my starting weight. Might as well, right? And I did. Overshot it by about 15 pounds (Foreshadowing for later, I guess). Figured, I was close enough to 350, might as well go for it. Overshot that goal too, and gained a few worried glances from my friends when I started breathing heavy just trying to keep up with their skinny asses. Started avoiding my friends who didn’t live in buildings with elevators. Wasn’t trying for 400, but ended up getting closer to that then 350, so I said, fuck it, might as well.

Overshot that too.

By that point, being fat was really starting to impact my life. I was relegated to big and tall stores, and their limited styles. Started wearing slip-on shoes because my fat feet were outgrowing sneakers, my fat legs were too heavy to bring my fat feet up to my fat lap to tie shoes, and my fat gut was blocking my fat arms from reaching my fat feet when they’re still on the ground. I had to fucking change careers, for god sake, because I needed to stand up for hours at a time, and I couldn’t fucking do it. And then, I broke my desk chair at my new job and had to get a bigger one.

And I was still.

Fucking.

Hungry.

I wasn’t even trying to hit 500 pounds when I blew past that. Seeing an error message on a plus size scale sent me spiraling. You know you’ve gone too far when shit for fat people stops fitting you anymore. And that was when big and tall stores still carried clothes in my size!

Of course, I have a good group of friends, and they wanted to help me out. None of us were athletes or gym people, but we made a commitment to help work some of this weight off. They joked about needing to lose some pounds themselves, but we all knew that hanging out with my fat ass is why most of them were over 250 pounds now. I was grateful to have such good friends. Shame none of us new jack shit about weight loss.

None of us had a gym membership before, and it was only after getting us all set up with one that we realized that treadmills have weight limits. So does the stairmaster. And the rowing machine. I could have probably fit in the squat rack, but none of us knew how to weightlift, so we weren’t doing any of that either. Walks in the park seemed like a good alternative, except for the strategically placed benches, all of the food vendors along the way, the nearby pubs and restaurants, and my alarming inability to avoid stopping at each of them.

It turns out that losing weight is actually pretty difficult when you’ve purposefully destroyed your metabolism, ruined your tastebuds with grease and salt, and gotten yourself addicted to sugar and chocolate. Who knew? Because the truth is, I probably could have dropped some weight, or at the very least kept myself below 600 pounds, if I didn’t get hard stuffing myself. Or if I hadn’t been jerking off to how fast my gut was growing for years. Or if all of the fat rolls that had covered up my cock, jiggling violently with every pitiful workup attempt, weren’t getting me hard like the vibrator I had started using after I couldn’t reach it with my hands anymore.

You know, if I hadn’t already made myself too fat.

After every activity we tried that someone half my size could do without thinking, let alone struggle with to the point of exhaustion, I gorged myself on take-out afterwards. After another failed attempt to touch my toes, or, let’s be honest, touch my belly button, my gut would rumble with hunger.

And my friends, god bless them, tried to get me to eat healthier. Starve me to death is more like it. Offering me slim-fasts and watery smoothies instead of soda and beer, replacing our usual bar hangouts with trendy health-food shops and trying to do more things that don’t revolve around food, no matter how hangry I got.

It was almost a blessing when I found out that most of them were stopping off at the usual drive-thrus afterwards. Turns out even they were sick of arugula and spinach and low-fat yogurt. Of course, I found out when we all ended up trying to go to the same one, meaning they knew I was stuffing myself despite their efforts. Well, they’re hypocrites if they bring it up, and it ended up really deflating their efforts to keep me fit enough to participate in society. Oops.

We all still hang out. All the time actually, especially since I’ve kept getting fatter and can’t always stand up or take care of myself anymore. I wouldn’t have been able to set up my living room with a bed, or move all of the stuff I needed from upstairs. Hell, If they weren’t in the house with me when I, shall we say, “failed”, to go upstairs for the first time, things could have been bad.

And that’s my life. Basically an invalid in my own home. My friends transformed into my caretakers, even as they hang out with movies and games, joining me in feeding their own fat bodies, as well as mine. I don’t go outside, my world becoming increasingly centered on my bed, wrapping a too-small blanket around myself to preserve my modesty from people who need to set up an inflatable pool for me because I’ve outgrown my shower. There’s nothing I do to fill my day other than eat and wait for more food to eat.

There was a point where I could have had both. A fat body to play with. Thick thighs and back rolls to explore. The feeling of a straining, stuffed gut full of food. But also hanging out with friends at a bar. Going out for walks in the park. Probably would have done some more dating, too. Back before I tipped the proverbial scale too far in one direction. Before I couldn’t let myself enjoy it because of my desire for more. Before I got too fat.

And honestly, as I lay on my bed, recovering from my failed attempt at standing, coming to the realization that it’s been a few weeks since I’ve left my bed without someone helping me, which means I won’t be able to grab a toy to relieve my hard, straining cock, I can a feel a part of me that still wants more.