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Janaina Medeiros
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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KIROKAZE
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Mike Driver
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titsay
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@roly-poly-pup
💜🐶🦴
After the first drink at the bar my head starts spinning, which is no surprise because what I planned as some "light pregaming" ended up in me having half a bottle of vodka in two hours.
I'm trying not to let the others notice but I'm not very secretive, the way I can't stop smiling and giggling. We do shots and I have two because why not? My eyes start to unfocus slightly and I can't really follow the conversation anymore, but that's okay, I'll just sit here quietly enjoying the booze in my system. Sometimes someone asks me a question, and I do my best to answer, but because I'm too drunk to follow the conversation, all that comes out is something like "uhh.. yesss! exact-llly that!" with some very enthusiastic nodding that makes my head spin even more, so much that I have to grab the person next to me to not fully loose control of my body.
i wanna get soooo drunk with someone we cant stand without slumping on each other or keep our nipples in our tops, tits hanging out of bikinis, slurring and giggling and staggering, falling onto the beach and barely realizing we’re on the ground halfway theu getting up
your intox dom takes you out for a day of errands followed by fun stuff. they control your booze intake as they drive you around, but the catch is you're not allowed to drink if you stop edging 🛑 while in the car. you can edge however you want, but you can't stop. they have picked out a specific type of underwear that they know will stimulate you the right way as you walk into stores with them, the post office, the bank...each destination a quieter place, each destination you're more wasted and needy. your dom has to remind you not to let your tongue stick out like that. your dom has to remind you not to squeeze your legs together like that. your dom has to shush you, when you think you're whispering.
they reward you by taking you to the movies, a theater a half hour away so you can drink and goon yourself stupid. you have no recollection of the movie later, just your dom groping you and shushing you in the theater as the pretty lights from the projector spun around.
your dom will tell you in the morning that you pissed yourself in the theater, and luckily they had brought you a change of clothes, because the night wasn't over. you had a dinner to go to with all of their friends and some of their family, after all! another half hour drive away.
@femme-objet
Thinking about how equally awesome and frightening the idea of an actual wg shake would be.
Imagine if you really could make a milkshake, one that could be easily drank in one sitting, packed with enough calories to fatten you by the second.
If you could literally FEEL your waistline slowly spreading out with each passing moment. Feel the tangible sensation of your pants tightening against an ass noticeably wider than it had been ten minutes ago.
If you could feel your breasts filling out your bra, OVERFILLING your bra, by the time you were taking down the last mouthfuls of the drink.
A single drink dumping 50 pounds if not more on your body, and the only thing stopping you from doing it again within minutes is prep time and a warning on the gain shake mix that says not to exceed a once-per-week usage.
That kind of thing is awesome to me for obvious reasons, but I think it's frightening for the aspect of impulsivity. It's easy to convince yourself to DRINK that kind of thing when you're all worked up, but maybe when you're more leveled out you wouldn't want to do something that hasty.
Maybe you're horny enough that, just to fulfill an indulgent fantasy, you drink too much too quick. 50 pounds giving way to 100 pounds, or 200, or more. It gets you off, but once that haze clears you realize you're immobile if not close to it --- you didn't consider the repercussions of more than doubling your weight in minutes.
A large share of my enjoyment of WG is in fictional settings just because it's those long-term consequences of actual gain that scare me conceptually, but at the same time, applying the rules OF realism to an otherwise unreal scenario can hit just as hard.
Drink so much you don't even try to sound coherent anymore, your words are slurring and you know it as they come out of your mouth but you just don't care. All you can think about is being taken home to be used. Somehow your thoughts are even more drunk than your body is. You know you shouldn't be thinking about those things in public but you are. You know you shouldn't want it but you do.
HAPPY PRIDE TO MY QUEER FAT BADDIES!!!1!!!!!! FREDDIE LOVES YOU 💖🌈🍑💕🏳️🌈💖
I would love to be at a party or something and have someone force me to drink, like they offer me booze multiple times and become more and more pushy about it until they put down a drink in front of me insisting i take a good swig,
constantly encouraging me to drink faster, refilling my cup,“cheers“ing me until ive got a couple glasses down, eventually im nice and tipsy so they pour me shots and invite me to play drinking games…
about 3h after me insisting i wont drink im too wasted to stand up straight, slurring every single word laughing at everything and drinking what im handed or refilling my own drink once i see its (half)empty while looking at it so drunk off my ass im squinting to even be able to see, crosseyed and smiling stupidly.
Eventually i black out and wake up somewhere (probably the bathroom) still dizzy and feeling pretty buzzed..its the early morning hours so me being still intoxicated i decide im not done drinking and find the next best bottle of liquor hiccuping and stumbling and happily wasted
I wish i was too fat to jerk off properly 😭 i want my pussy and thighs so fat just walking jerks off my tdick, i wanna hump pillows and a vibrator because i cant reach around my huge belly
Personally I think I should be able to earn a lot of money from just gaining weight. Each milestone is worth a certain amount and there are multipliers for weight that is packed on quickly. It'd obviously just push me to make the worst gaining choices possible, consuming well over 7,000 calories a day just to blimp myself up to earn more money. By the time I'm bigger than my mattress, immobile and dependent, I have amassed more than enough money to cover the medical costs of keeping me fed and alive on tens of thousands of calories each day
Daydreaming about how I was on Sunday, drunk off my ass at 2:30pm wandering around town looking for the next bar forgetting where I came from and how I was gonna get home. That should be an everyday endeavor forreal.
Short story #2
"Do you want to see a magic trick?" It was the last thing you said before snatching the freshly opened bottle from my hand and darting to the other side of the room.
You raised the bottle, your lips curling into a playful smile as the harsh liquid touched your tongue. But you didn’t stop at a sip. You tipped the bottle vertically, leaned your head back, and performed a move I’d never seen before.
Your throat seemed to relax, and suddenly the liquid poured straight into your stomach, bypassing any need to swallow. Tiny bubbles rose through the liquor as it drained rapidly. You raised your free hand, signaling for me not to interrupt. I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. I was mesmerized.
The bottle emptied faster than I thought possible, and when it slipped from your fingers, you let out the sexiest, breathiest gasp I’d ever heard. For a moment, you stood there, your gaze locking with mine, your expression daring me to respond.
Then the alcohol hit.
It started subtly: your head tipped forward, your shoulders softened. But within seconds, your posture collapsed entirely, and you stood there swaying, utterly undone.
“Goooodddd…” you murmured, your voice thick and languid - a string of drool slipping from your lips and disappearing into your cleavage.
You tried to steady yourself, but the alcohol was relentless. Your movements turned clumsy as you stumbled sideways, barely catching yourself. Your glassy, unfocused eyes met mine, and you attempted a smile - though your lips struggled to obey.
"Come here," I said, my voice low but commanding.
You took a single step before your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor. Crawling was your next choice, but even that was an effort. I could see how much the alcohol was affecting you, making each movement heavier, slower.
You were the most intoxicating thing I’d ever seen.
I moved to meet you halfway in a deep, hungry kiss. The taste of alcohol was strong and heady on your tongue, making me crave more.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I growled against your ear, my voice barely more than a heated whisper. “And after that, I’m going to come in your mouth. You’ll wash it down with another bottle.”
Your eyes widened, an startled look crossing your face. “I-I don’t… I don’t know if I can…” you slurred, your words barely coherent.
“You can,” I said, scooping you into my arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “And you will.” - inspired by my favorite Hachamachee story -
Sex is fun, but have you tried aggressively overfeeding your partner until they’re absolutely exhausted from the slightest movement, and any attempt at penetration is prevented by gelatinous mounds of fat, so you resort to further overfeeding to get yourself off?
It hits different.
A chubby wife who loses her job, but her partner is the real breadwinner anyways, so she's encouraged to relax and enjoy her days off. She's encouraged to let loose and indulge a little...
Several months later she hasn't been sober once and has put on tense of pounds, becoming a full time intoxicated stay-at-home hog
Booze? How much are you planning to drink today, hm? - ☕️
I wasn’t planing much but I drank lots. I
Intox mutual gaining/feeding where both parties get lit up and try to fatten each other up and ending with both being overfed to being practically incapacitated and desperately making out and playing with each other while barely able to move 😩👌