you can call me plates, pet, or anything you want really. i'm just here to interact with nsfw content, especiallly erotic weight gain, tummies, slob, dehumanization, pet play, some non-con, and the like.
they/it pronouns are good for me.
also i am aroace. you can be mean and dehumanizing to me about it but only if you respect aroaces in all other contexts, thank you. i'm also autistic. arobreaking/orientation play blog at @broken-pet
not here to post pictures or anything, just to admire others.
feel free to send asks or DM me <3 you can fetishize me and objectify me if you want <3 or just talk as likeminded people
The concept of a guy so filthy rich and disgustingly popular becoming the most hedonistic asshole youll ever meet. He snaps at his colleagues, demands way more than reasonable from the casting crew, even blatantly insults his fans. And somehow that only drives his celebrity status upwards. Which, in turn, only agitates him more. The cycle repeats...
His helpers dress him, bring the colours back into his face so he can at least pretend like he isn't horrifically hungover, brings his coffee and cigarettes to him on command, anything to keep him satisfied. In turn he snaps, spits and degrades his employees without hesitation or remorse.
Over his career he gets increasingly bigger, having to have his clothes tailored specifically to not show just how fast he has been gaining weight as years go by. The alcohol and banquets have taken a toll. And still, his celebrity status increases..
fuck, i told myself i was gonna shower and put on clean clothes for the first time in more than a week, but i just kept eating until i passed out on the couch. i have no self control at all anymore. laying around and eating is all i'm capable of
Normal brain: awe I lost a bit of the weight I gained, no worries tho it happens
Feedist brain: hey you should- *makes me eat 3 Popeyes chicken sandwiches. 2 orders of the mac and cheese, a bottle of Fanta*
Normal brain: "Oh dang... Okay whew I'm pleasantly stuffed. But I should probably not eat for the rest of the day.
Feedist brain: yeah but wouldn't it be cute to- *makes me eat 3 hotdogs loaded with cheese and onions and a large handful of Fries*
Normal brain: "Oh god... Oh fuck... Okay okay, I really shouldn't eat anymore, my blood sugars are already dangerously hi-
Feedist brain: yeah yeah cool so like what if- *Makes me impulsively buy a cake*
Normal brain: No... No no n-
Mine and partners feedist brain: eat it on all fours without your hands. *Proceeds to do so*
Normal brain: fuuuuck -uuurrrp- *huff huff* okay okay, is that enough?
Feedist brain: *twirls hair cutely* so like you should- *orders McDonald's, gets the wrong order and this one comes with ice cream, large fries, a box of cookies and mcchickens. but partner is sad because they didn't get their chicken nuggets*
Normal brain: *barely functional at this point* o..kay, is thissss enoughhh? *Stomach gurgling, breathing shallow, barely able to move*
Feedist brain Soooo close you should actually- *orders 80 chicken nuggets, partner eats 40 of them while I slowly eat 20*
Normal brain:.....................
Feedist brain: hello? You good?
Normal brain:.....................
Feedist brain: uh oh, that can't be good. What if I just *Makes me wake up the next day the most ravenous I've ever been*
Normal brain: P-Plea-se.... N-no m-more....
Feedist brain: I get to decide when we're done. Not you~
Imagine a girlfriend who spends all day at home eating all the food and snacks in the house, and when you get home with a meal for yourself she eats all of it without a care. And if you try to complain she just burps at you and tells you you should've stocked the fridge better 🥵
Synopsis: Trystan has now moved in with Jared and life couldn't be sweeter. After all, what's better than living with your best bro?
Trystan was living the dream.
He almost couldn't believe how great sharing an apartment with Jared was. He felt like a teenager who'd been given permission to do whatever he wanted with no responsibilities; the sense of untrammelled freedom was a heady rush and it felt so fucking good.
He woke up, as he had every day the past week, late.
'YA-aawwn…' He stretched his shoulders back, feeling the joints click. Jared only had the one bed, and the couch wasn't the most comfortable of places to sleep, but Trystan was happy to put up with it.
He propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He'd been up late—again—gaming with Jared, but while sleep was tempting, his stomach was begging to be fed.
He wandered into the kitchen, scratching his arse crack through the threadbare boxers he wore as pyjamas (which Stacey had tried repeatedly to get him to throw away despite how comfy they were) and rummaged through the pantry for any food. The clock on the wall read 1 PM, but Trystan didn't pay it any heed as he grabbed a box of Frosted Sugar Flakes off the shelf and poured himself a bowl. He lumbered over to the fridge, looking for some milk, but the only bottle in there had the consistency of yoghurt and smelt sour.
'Ergh,' he grimaced, screwing the lid on and putting it back into the fridge. 'There's gotta be something I can use…'
His eyes landed on a can of beer.
Why not? he thought. There was no one to tell him he couldn't, after all.
He cracked it open, poured it into the bowl and spooned some into his mouth.
'This doesn't taste as great as I thought it would…' he muttered to himself through a mouthful of cereal. He shrugged, and kept eating because, well, he was hungry and didn't have anything better to eat.
Just then, Jared entered the room. He had already been up for a few hours now because he worked from home—some sort of IT or programming job, Trystan couldn't remember which and since they didn't waste time with boring small talk like "how was your day?" he'd never bothered to ask.
'Yo,' Jared said, sticking his head into the fridge.
'Mfph,' Trystan replied mid-chew.
Jared pulled out a box of Chinese take-away, gave it a sniff to check it was all right, and tossed it into the microwave. The two of them sat in an amiable silence while it heated up. Suddenly there was a sound like a cross between a spit and a bang that came from the microwave. Jared hopped up and opened the door to find his food steaming, the walls inside the machine splattered with sauce.
'Damn, that's hot!' he said, gingerly poking his finger at the box. He pulled his food out, closing the door on the mess that was left behind to join the other stains and gunk from meals gone by.
Blowing on it, he grabbed a fork and began to chow down.
'When Trystan was done with his cereal, he tilted the bowl to his mouth, draining the remaining sugar-sweetened beer, and licked his lips.
'Belch, ah. That hit the spot.' He went over to the sink and added his bowl and spoon to the growing pile of dirty dishes that had accumulated in it.
Trystan scarfed down the last of his noodles, tossing the empty box to the side of the table and wiping his mouth on the already dirty table cloth. 'I've got another half hour for my lunch break,' he said. 'Did you wanna play some more of that Cry of Destiny campaign mission we started last night?'
'You can set it up,' Trystan said. 'I just need to take a leak.'
Being as it was his first piss of the day, Trystan's bladder was pretty full. He let out a jet of urine into the toilet bowl, the stream hissing and hitting the water with a loud splash. In his half drowsy, mildly drunk state, his aim was a bit off: some of it hit the rim of the bowl and dripped down to the tiled floor. But he didn't care. After all, it was just a bit of piss. It's a toilet anyway, it's supposed to get dirty, so why would you bother cleaning it up?
When he was done, he shook out the last few dribbles of urine. A droplet landed on his hand, but he just wiped it off on his underpants. Tucking his dick back inside his waistband, he turned and headed to the living room without flushing, let alone washing his hands.
Jared was slouched on the couch and slid over to give Trystan room to sit. Next to him was a pile of snacks and drinks for their gaming session: even if it was only going to be half an hour, they still needed the right fuel.
'Here!' He tossed him the controller.
Trystan caught it and flopped down onto the cushion. 'OK, let's play,' he said. 'And pass me a can of Red Bull and some of those Doritos.'
All set up, the two of them began the game. Completely focused on the campaign, they were perfectly in sync.
'Nice cover,' Jared said as Trystan blasted one of the enemy soldiers.
'No—urp—worries,' Trystan replied, finishing off his can of energy drink.
Jared nudged Trystan's knee. 'What was that?'
'What?'
'That burp. It was piss weak.' He smirked. 'Let me show you how a real man belches.'
Jared paused the game and sat up straight. He took a few deep breaths in, swallowing down the air into his stomach, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Then, he opened his mouth wide and let it all rush out.
'BEEE-eeellllchHH!'
He sighed with pleasure and gave Trystan a wink. 'Beat that.'
'Oh, I will.' He'd mastered the art of burping on command at the tender age of seven, and wasn't going to let Jared show him up. He took a deep gulp of air in, feeling it slide down his oesophagus and into his gut, then forced it back up. He worked his jaw, modulating the flow of air to achieve a fine vibrato.
'BO-AUUUURrrrRRRRrrrRRRPPP!'
But Jared was ready with his response.
'BURRR-OUUrrrrrrrpp!'
'BA-EEELLLLllllch!'
'BAURRrrrr-ellLCH!'
'Burrrrrrr-urrr-ARRRP!'
They went back and forth, each trying to outdo the other in loudness and grossness.
Eventually, Jared paused. 'Give me a sec…'
He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and then inhaled air slowly and methodically into his stomach. After what seemed to be an impossibly long time, he let it out.
'BEEEEEEEEE-OOOOOUUUUUUUUUUURRRRR-ARR-ELLLLCCCCHHHHH!'
Trystan was blown away, almost literally.
'Woah…'
He'd finally met someone who could challenge him for the title of King of Burps. He looked into Jared's eyes, awestruck. A strange feeling flashed through his veins and he could've sworn he felt his dick twitch.
Jared, too, seemed a little flustered. He quickly looked at his phone.
'Damn, is that the time?' he stuttered. 'I better, ah, get back to work. Yeah.' He motioned clumsily at the TV screen. 'Sorry we didn't get to finish the campaign.'
'No, uh, stress,' Trystan replied.
He held out his fist. After a split-second pause, Jared bumped his own fist against it, smiling.
'See ya when I'm done with work, bro.'
'Later, bro.'
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
