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supexpat

Not quite deep enough to fuck yet, but getting closer.

supexpat

Soft fat surrounded by soft blankets and pillows.

supexpat

Honestly? My dick is effectively an internal organ now.

supexpat

It's gone.

Just a hole now.

supexpat

I love being obese, I love how it makes me feel weak. I love how submissive it makes me.

Make me fatter. Make me need you.

supexpat

You see me waddle ponderous into the room like this. What are you doing after you see me?

adepsmagnum

Will we see a side by side of you fit vs now? Even if your not ready to show us your current size I'm more curious seeing your fit days. If you don't mind.

Then and now...

adepsmagnum

Big but not big enough

adepsmagnum

If I ever caught sitting back on the couch with your belly sticking out, filling your lap, stuffed to the brim, my first instinct would be to rest my head on the shelf of it listening contently as your belly processes all those calories into more fat for your growing body 😮‍💨✨✨👂🏾👂🏾👂🏾

After a big meal the couch really is the perfect place to just lean back and let everything settle.

adepsmagnum

Confession time…

As many of you know, I’ve gotten pretty big. My belly has grown a lot, and the fat pad around my pelvis has gotten thicker too. Because of that, things don’t always work the way they used to. Reaching down isn’t exactly easy anymore, and when I lean forward my belly presses into my chest and I run out of breath pretty fast.

So sometimes I’ve needed a little… creativity.

When someone else helped me, it was amazing. I could just relax, play with my belly, feel its weight, and imagine how big I might become one day. If they whispered things like “look how huge you are getting” while feeding me chocolates at the same time… well… let’s just say those moments were unforgettable.

But of course, you can’t always have someone there to help.

Recently I realized that if I sit on my office chair with my legs spread wide, my belly settles right down between them and rests heavily on my chair. My apron belly presses down on the fat pad and everything underneath it.

Then if I slowly rock my hips back and forth, my belly starts to wobble.

And wow… almost effortless, the feeling that creates is something else.

The pressure and movement from my own belly creates this slow, building sensation that gets stronger the longer I move. Watching it in the mirror makes it even better, seeing my huge belly wobbling and rolling while I move my hips.

Sometimes I make it even more indulgent. I’ll grab a handful of chocolates, pop them into my mouth and happily gobble them down while watching myself in the mirror, letting my belly wobble and do all the work.

It becomes a mix of pleasure and indulgence. The soft fat around everything down there creates such a warm, soft pressure that it almost feels like being wrapped in something...

Sometimes I sit there afterward, catching my breath, wondering how intense it will feel when I’m even bigger.

So now I’m curious…

Do you think a belly like this should keep growing? 😉

adepsmagnum

Sometimes I sit back and really look at what I’ve been deliberately building.

Every meal, every late-night indulgence, every layer of softness is part of the same process, turning fat into art.

A massive, soft dome of blubber, growing heavier and rounder with time. I love watching it spread, swell, and take over the frame when I look down at myself. The belly doesn’t just sit there anymore, it expands, it becomes the center of gravity.

A slow blobification.

Layer after layer of warm, heavy softness accumulating.

More blubber, more roundness, more presence.

There’s something deeply satisfying about feeling that mass in front of me, knowing that every pound added is part of the same transformation. Watching the body blur into one big, fat blob.

It’s becoming an expanding blob of softness. I turned abundance into form.

And honestly…

I’m only getting started.

adepsmagnum

With Every Bite

Lost in thought, I sit at my desk in my home office and work. My home office is also my bedroom, with a stash of snacks not far from the kitchen. Of course, I always have something to eat within arm’s reach.

At the moment, I love ratluk, lokum — a Turkish specialty made from sugar, starch, and patience. Slowly cooked, stretched, cut. A concentrate of pure calories. With walnuts, it loses any lightness. What would otherwise be just sweet becomes dense. Heavy.

On the tongue, it begins sluggishly. It doesn’t melt immediately; it yields. It sticks, clings, forces me to truly eat it. Every bite is pure energy. Sugar, instantly available. Walnuts, fatty, rich, high in calories.

And then my favorite snack: čvarci. Cracklings from Croatia. Rendered pork fat, reduced to the essentials. Golden brown, porous, threaded with fat. The first bite is dry and crunchy, but immediately the decisive element follows: pure fat.

I always have a pot of them next to me, additionally seasoned with Cajun, paprika, curry, cayenne. Intense. Salty. Heavy. Pure fat in chip form — maximum energy density, minimal resistance.

And while I work, I eat.

Continuously.

On the side.

Sweets and fats alternating. Lokum, čvarci, then lokum again.

The perfect cycle: sugar for the rapid spike, fat for sustained storage.

The body understands immediately.

Insulin rises.

Storage begins.

The belly takes it in.

It stretches.

Becomes fuller, rounder, heavier.

I feel my stomach filling, expanding, yet still demanding more. No clear signal of satiety, but rather a drive for more of exactly this state: full, warm, taut.

My belly works. It grows.

I feel the warmth inside, this dense, satisfying heaviness. Calories that stay. Settle. Fat cells fill. Create new substance.

Every reach into the pot, every piece of lokum is no longer random. It is an ongoing process. A conscious continuation of feeding.

More sugar.

More fat.

More mass.

And as I keep eating, I feel how my body responds. How it changes. How my belly slowly, but inexorably, becomes bigger.

Not someday.

But now.

With every bite.

And that is exactly what makes it so hard to stop.

Because you’re not just eating.

You become more — and that is beautiful.

Mit jedem Bissen

Gedankenversunken sitze ich an meinem Schreibtisch im Home Office und arbeite. Mein Home Office ist zugleich mein Schlafzimmer, mit Snackvorrat nicht weit von der Küche entfernt. Natürlich habe ich immer etwas zu essen in meiner unmittelbaren Nähe.

Zurzeit liebe ich Ratluk, Lokum – eine türkische Spezialität aus Zucker, Stärke und Geduld. Langsam gekocht, gezogen, geschnitten. Ein Konzentrat aus reinen Kalorien. Mit Walnüssen verliert es jede Leichtigkeit. Was sonst nur süß wäre, wird dicht. Schwer.

Auf der Zunge beginnt es träge. Es schmilzt nicht sofort, es gibt nach. Es klebt, bleibt haften, zwingt mich, es wirklich zu essen. Jeder Bissen ist pure Energie. Zucker, der direkt verfügbar ist. Walnüsse, fettig, gehaltvoll, kalorienreich.

Und dann mein Lieblingssnack: Čvarci. Grieben aus Kroatien. Ausgelassenes Schweinefett, reduziert auf das Wesentliche. Goldbraun, porös, durchzogen von Fett. Beim ersten Biss trocken und knusprig, doch sofort folgt das Entscheidende: reines Fett.

Ich habe immer einen Topf davon neben mir, zusätzlich gewürzt mit Cajun, Paprika, Curry, Cayenne. Intensiv. Salzig. Schwer. Pures Fett in Chipsform – maximale Energiedichte, minimaler Widerstand.

Und während ich arbeite, esse ich.

Kontinuierlich.

Nebenbei.

Süßes und Fettiges im Wechsel. Lokum, Čvarci, wieder Lokum.

Der perfekte Kreislauf: Zucker für den schnellen Anstieg, Fett für die nachhaltige Speicherung.

Der Körper versteht das sofort.

Insulin steigt.

Speicherung beginnt.

Der Bauch nimmt auf.

Er dehnt sich.

Wird voller, runder, schwerer.

Ich spüre, wie mein Magen sich füllt, wie er sich ausdehnt, wie er trotzdem weiter verlangt. Kein klares Sättigungssignal, sondern ein Drang nach mehr von genau diesem Zustand: voll, warm, gespannt.

Mein Bauch arbeitet. Er wächst.

Ich fühle die Wärme im Inneren, diese dichte, satte Schwere. Kalorien, die bleiben. Sich ablagern. Fettzellen füllen. Neue Substanz schaffen.

Jeder Griff in den Topf, jedes Stück Lokum ist kein Zufall mehr. Es ist ein fortlaufender Prozess. Ein bewusstes Weiterfüttern.

Mehr Zucker.

Mehr Fett.

Mehr Masse.

Und während ich weiter esse, spüre ich, wie mein Körper darauf reagiert. Wie er sich verändert. Wie mein Bauch langsam, aber unaufhaltsam größer wird.

Nicht irgendwann.

Sondern jetzt.

Mit jedem Bissen.

Und genau das macht es so schwer, aufzuhören.

Weil man nicht nur isst.

Man wird mehr und das ist schön.