Untitled @pragnart - Tumblr Blog

skinnychublover

When the bulk becomes a permanent change 😈 yeah, keep at it.

kekoa300

Bulk gone bad

hobbschor3

jdhshsifmvjdh

Stretch Marks

It drives me absolutely wild with lust when I see a big bloated guy and his belly is completely riddled with stretch marks. Stretch marks are when your skin can't keep up with how fast you are getting fatter, which means the guy is either:

a. A complete and total food addicted pig who has been overeating for a long time (or hell, maybe not even that long of a time). He is probably eating 2-3x what he should be at every meal. He has a sweet tooth and is constantly having sugary foods and desserts after every meal. He is so addicted that even the appearance of angry red scars on his belly doesn't deter him from continuing to over-indulge. His friends all joke about the portion sizes he packs away and makes fun of how fat he is getting-- they are completely shocked when they see him at the beach or the pool and see the damage he has done to his body. He even has bloated puffy arms that have their own small stretch marks, showcasing the blubber inflating under his skin, while his giant rotund belly sticks out a foot in front of him and hangs down over his swim trunks. Speaking of swim trunks-- those were obviously purchased quite a few pounds ago because they look like they are painted on over thick, chubby thighs, barely containing his blubbery ass cheeks.

or b. He's like one of you guys-- a horny kinky gainer who is also addicted, but not so much addicted to the food, but the results of what the food does. Which means he spends every waking moment packing more and more food into his gut because the only thing that makes him horny and gets him to an orgasm is the thought of getting bigger and fatter. Every morning, he wakes up and chugs 2,000 calories of weight gain shake, then heads out to go get a high calorie fast food breakfast. He then spends the rest of the day alternating between snacking and shoveling in processed slop. The stretch marks on his belly are not worn as an act of indifference or shame, but of pride, knowing that he did this to himself. He is slowly disabling himself under hundreds of pounds of blubber, making it harder to walk, harder to do everything. His dick gets hard every time he gets up off the couch and slowly waddles to the kitchen, feeling every roll of flab jiggle and bounce. Every time he tries to pull up an old pair of jeans and they get stuck on his growing thighs, he gets so horny he has to stop and masturbate, another activity that is getting increasingly difficult as he grows-- breathing heavy and grunting as he reaches around that bloated, stretch mark covered belly to paw at his increasingly fat pad covered cock.

futureblob1

Yeah i'm more of a B.

gain-stuff-eat

You haven't noticed, have you?

Your meals keep getting bigger.

You keep getting bigger.

I know why. You've been too busy stuffing that face. Haven't paid attention to anything else in weeks - well, months now - and it's pretty obvious. So focused on satisfying those indulgent cravings and that constant, bottomless hunger, all you can think about is more. You eat to feel full and full for you means overstuffed. You can't even help it anymore.

I can't believe you haven't even noticed that double chin you've been growing, the way it pushes and spreads against your neck when you're bent over your meal and shoveling down all that food. How your belly jiggles with every step and spills into your lap a little more everyday. The way your arms don't quite touch your sides that well and your chest swells and your thighs rub. You're so fat now, you don't even realize, either sitting down too engrossed in gorging on flavors and textures, or too focused on making it to the door for delivery or into the kitchen because fuck, you need more, right?

Did you think that button flying off the other week was a fluke? Or needing to unzip your pants after every meal is a coincidence? The seams straining and groaning trying to contain your widening form. You must be completely unaware of the fact you're constantly tugging down your shirts and readjusting those clothes that used to fit you so well. They still do, actually. Maybe too well, from the glances and looks you get from friends and family and strangers after you surface from finishing your huge portions already asking for dessert.

But I get it.

That mindless haze that takes over when you eat makes it hard to notice how fast your body - and mind - is changing. You must keep forgetting those moments of surprise when you catch your reflection or see a recent photo. At how big and soft you look now. You obviously don't forget how it makes you feel. The throb that runs through you, the hunger it provokes, and the way you need to eat so much more later because of it. Before-you wouldn't recognize the behavior of current-you, not the way you've fully given yourself to the gluttony and hedonism.

Now, instead of worrying about how much you've eaten, you just sit back and pat your stuffed belly with a satisfied sigh. Rub the tender fullness in big slow circles. You don't even think twice, or at all, as your hand drifts lower and lower greedily seeking more pleasure until you're rutting and writhing as much as your beached body lets you, only realizing then how truly full you are - of how you only want more of it. Accepting with every bite and every orgasm that it's the only thing that gets you over the edge anymore. That it's the only thing you crave.

You're so heavy now. Sensitive. Insatiable.

You haven't noticed, not really. Because, well, that's how you are all the time. You're lost to the bliss of this. You want more. You need more. You get more.

You can't help it. You've conditioned yourself so well.

It's unlike anything else, isn't it? So easy, so simple, so rewarding to let go and give in to that growing pleasure.

Keep eating.

It all feels too good to stop.