hmmm,,, orb,,,

Mid-Twenties, He/Him Bi. Just an autistic guy with Several Orb Pondering Kinks.

[theorbpondertron]

aw hell I should probably do a pinned post

🪄Hello! I’m Orb, but you can also call me Wiz or something I still gotta think of an alias or whatever <3. I use this account mostly to express whatever horny thoughts come to mind and all.

🪄I’m a cis man, bi, AuDHD, a switch with a dom-lean, and in my mid-twenties! I try and keep age a little vague for privacy purposes. If that makes folks uncomfortable I understand.

If you are not 18+ then do not interact with this Blog. Minors DNI.

🪄Asks and DMs are open! I’m okay with horny asks, but I reserve the right to be picky about my DMs and all.

What I’m into!: feedism (I’m a feeder, fond of both gentle feedism and mean stuff!), inflation (air, water, slime, uhhh probably a bunch of others idk how to categorize stuff), blueberry stuff, pregnancy (normal, rapid, hyper), lactation, hucow, pet play, clothing malfunction, intox (alcohol, haven’t tried weed yet), micro, slurred speech, force feeding, teasing (I enjoy teasing others but if you tease me at all I will enter sub-mode instantly), mobility struggles, immobility

I’m probably forgetting some stuff! This list may change as time goes on tbh

As far as Non-Kink goes, I enjoy gaming, TTRPGs, fantasy, and a few other things! Feel free to chat about non-horny stuff too sometimes, i might be down!

Apologies if I am a horny mess it’s admittedly 99% of what I post on here. Might also use the account to vent post and delete promptly afterwards! Idk yet though cause that might be embarrassing idk idk.

Finally, DNI if you’re homophobic, transphobic, racist, Zionist, or pro-Trump. Free Palestine, Black Lives Matter, and Trans Rights are Human Rights. Any failure to recognize those things means you probably aren’t welcome here, and you’re better off blocking me and moving on.

[theorbpondertron]

also just real quick cause I’m an anxious alan: I’m still working on those asks!! Just things have gotten mad busy for me IRL, so pardon how long it’s taking to get to some of yalls stuff! Bear with me, and thank you for your patience!!

[bibbowlz]

INHALES

IWannaBePutInACardboardBoxAndFattenedUpUntilTheBoxBreaks.

👉👈

please

[floritaria]

It's only natural that after gaining a few hundred pounds, it gets harder and harder to reach... But it seems I'm too stubborn for my own good :3

[theorbpondertron]

tell me what you’d want to do with me ;3

Absolutely INSANE first ask for the prompt oml. Everyone to send bunny a ton of love btw! Gonna try writing something out inspired by this little post of yours :3c ALSO gonna be chipping through the asks I have and trying to force myself to write, but asks will still be open for prompts till this coming Sunday! With the bookkeeping out of the way, lemme try and get this started,,,

———

TAGS: Pregnancy, Pregnancy Struggle, Clothing Issues, Attempts at a gender neutral POV but I’m new at this so forgive me, a chubby momma bun!

The camera jerked a little, the person it was strapped to adjusting its position on their forehead over and over again. Partially to get the angle juuuust right, and partly just because the strap could be so damn uncomfortable. I huffed grunt of ‘good enough’ was the only affirmation that its wearer was satisfied with the way it squeezed ever so too-tightly around their head. The camera steadied, focusing on an empty doorway leading to a lit walk-in closet, hangers burdened with dozens of outfits that looked like they hadn’t been touched in months, with a small section of hangers more recently emptied.

“We’re rolling, you ready BunBun?”

The person behind the camera was met with silence, an almost imperceptible pouty huff coming from the closet’s occupant as they kept the camera trained on its doorway. “Do we have to?” The voice inside whined. “We already know nothing’s gonna fit anyway…” her protests were betrayed by an audible smile, one her partner shared as they shifted in place.

“I’m sorry, but wasn’t it a certain chubby bunny that posted, and I quote ‘I’m so excited for the day I get to share my pregnancy with you all! I’m gonna be sure my breeder tak-‘“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it!” Interrupted the closet skulking figure, their shadow lumbering toward the doorframe. “Still, I’m not sure what they’re expecting asking for this…”

A few ponderous steps could be heard, muffled by the carpet as the closet’s occupant entered view. The very first thing to enter frame was the pale, taut dome of Bunny’s belly. Each slow, waddling step revealed just a little more of her gravid swell, its surface was adorned by faint stretchmarks and an outie belly button (one she was eager to spend the morning posting about when it had finally popped some months ago).

Following that pudgy pregnant bump was the woman it was attached to, a radiantly adorable Bunny, bashfully smiling as she spilled out of a t-shirt and shorts combo that honestly may have been a little on the small side before she had gotten knocked up. If one would say she was spilling out of the outfit before, she had very throughly spilled out of what was left of it. Softened thighs and widened hips forced those pants to be nearly sheer against her body, the zipper and button not even close to coming tighter as the faintest hint of maternity underwear could be seen peaking from within. Her rear made the these pants look almost painted on, and if bending over wasn’t more trouble than it was worth there may be concerns of a tear in the seat of those shorts.

The camera going up the curve of her pregnancy revealed how her chest had grown in tandem with her belly, turning a once small shirt into little more than a makeshift bra, chubby arms hugging the sleeves as a hand rested gently on the top of her swollen middle. The camera could just barely pick up the faintest hints of movement as a kick danced across the surface of Bunny’s heavily pregnant belly. With the considerable swell and low hang of her middle, there wouldn’t be any denying at this point that she was nearly overdue.

40 weeks with twins was already a miracle all its own, but coming up on that 41st week meant the happy couple spent every moment relishing Bunny’s pregnancy in the time before they’d get to welcome their little one’s into the world. The nursery was furnished, hospital bag ready, all there was to do now was enjoy each and every moment that was left of this pregnancy before the two happily became parents. A fact that made both Bunny and her partner behind the camera endlessly grateful that they’d spent so much time documenting every moment of her first pregnancy together. Taking in that fact, the camera lingered on the poor Bun stuffed in her pre-pregnancy wardrobe, taking in the stunning sight of their gravid partner as the hung in the doorway.

I breathless sigh of exertion brought the person behind the camera back to earth, Bunny huffing as she moved both arms under her heavy swell to support it as best she could, her body gently having a slight adorable jiggle as she shifted to lean against the doorway and take just a little weight off of her swollen feet.

“Honestly, I don’t know if anything else in here is gonna get much smaller than this… I mean, there was this skirt, but honestly I’m pretty sure community guidelines would absolutely NOT be happy with it.” She said while fruitlessly trying to tug the old white t-shirt down the expanse of her middle, an effort that proved only briefly fruitful before it promptly slid back up moments later. With a cheery giggle, she looked up and past the camera and at the person it was strapped to with a smile. “How do I look?”

Stunning. Beautiful. Like an angel. All of these and more were what first came to mind as they stared wistfully at the pregnant bun before them. None of those words, however, were what came out.

“Heavy.” The person behind the camera thoughtlessly remarked under their breath, just barely loud enough to be heard by the camera and definitely to be heard by the now blushing Bunny in the doorway.

“And whose fault is that?!” They shouted with a laugh, beginning the arduous journey from closet to bed as she waddled across the room. The camera got an excellent view of a chubby bunny pressing her belly against her partner’s waist, her face locked in a pout (they’d have to blur her face out later, but that’s what editing software is for anyhow). The firm surface of her belly squished ever so slightly due to a layer of pretty pre-pregnancy pudge that padded her prodigious frame. The camera could catch the gentle shine across her middle, those faint stretchmarks kept at bay by all manner of oils and lotions applied nightly. Bunny reached and grabbed her breeder’s hand, pressing it to her side as she spoke. “Not my fault your babies are this big.” She remarked candidly.

Her partner grinned in response, gently rubbing Bun’s side as a small kick greeted their hand. “To be fair, I don’t think this is all baby. How many times this week have you had me restock those strawberry pop tarts you like?” They asked, feeling another kick against their hand as they rubbed a wide circle across her middle. Two gentle pats left displayed how taut her middle was, showing off the gentle layer of padding that jiggled softly at their touch. “Five times? And the box next to the bed is nearly empt-”

The waddling assailant’s blush was clear as day on camera, a hand reaching up and covering the camera shyly. “Okay! That’s enough now!” She insisted, eliciting another laugh from her partner as they shot the recording off. Bunny gave a little pout, face still flushed. “You’re awful.” She stated with a soft smile.

————————————————————————

Anyway if you like cute domestic preg stuff go follow @softroundbunny ASAP

Hope this was good! And not accidentally a character assassination tried to keep Bunny’s vibe as best I could!

[bloopityart]

Happy fork of July, and god bless obesity

[chnkydog]

photosynthetic blueberry who freaks out whenever they’re in the sun. works a night shift job and rushes home as fast as they can before the sun comes up otherwise they’ll end up a big round blueberry. they don’t exactly need to eat, as long as they get enough sun (as long as it’s not Too Much sun) despite this they still drink a lot of energy drinks

[professorchatwin]

July 4th really is a feedism holiday and here's why:

1. Socially acceptable to go eat a ton at the cookout and it's usually stuff that's carb heavy and adds up fast.

2. No one is looking twice over extra dessert. Of course you need that extra ice cream baby, it's hot out. Have a popsicle too.

3. Drink so. Much. Beer.

And 4. All of the above are usually indulged in minimal clothing.

[theorbpondertron]

Okay, so I think I have an idea on how to handle the follower milestone with the help of some moots. Essentially, i wanna invite yall to send me some asks and prompts about some of yalls favorite tummy stuff, and I’ll pick my faves out and try and write something short about them this weekend!

Few things: obvs if I don’t write yours it’s not a personal slight, it could be for any number of reasons. I’m esp busy en so I’m gonna try and get to most of the ones I fw! And admittedly if you play into the kinks I’ve listed I’ll be more likely to write about yours/if you send an ask with kinks I don’t fw than I likely won’t write anything. That said, feel free to send me some prompts or asks or requests and I’ll try my absolute best to get around to them!! Go nuts!!

[theorbpondertron]

oh god oh fuck what do i do now

Thank y’all so much! I’m glad enough folks enjoy my sporadic horny ramblings!! I wanna do something special but I literally have no idea what to do so uhhh stay tuned maybe possibly

[livesinastomach]

Me when I see a completely normal-presenting blog with normal interests start following my freaky fetish blog

[bigger-and-rounder]

I fantasize a lot about perma-intox feedist scenarios. A feedee who’s ultimate fantasy is to turn off their brain completely by being high 24/7 and lying in bed stuffing their face all day. Finally getting a feeder who’s into the same thing and makes enough to allow them to turn into a weed-addicted pig who can’t even focus long enough to count the number of pizza slices they’ve eaten. Just constantly high, hungry and horny, gaining pounds by the hundreds each year until they’re near bed bound from complete inactivity, not aware of the date or time and just seeking out their next hit, their next meal, their next orgasm. Brain turning as soft as their body is while their loving feeder eagerly enables every moment of it, ensuring absolute comfort for their stupid, fat pet, baking weed into every dessert and ensuring their mouth is always full of food or a blunt. Permanent, endless indulgence and hedonism brought to life in the form of pillowy rolls and heavy stretch marks from years of nonstop eating, eyes bloodshot and underwear stained with the remnants of countless orgasms from rutting into their fat gut while their feeder uses their huge body to get off. God

[theorbpondertron]

Imagining a culinary student and her roommate that she’s designated as her food disposal taste tester. At the start of the semester she’s not as confident in her cooking abilities, but her roommate dutifully tries it out and gives feedback. Of course she’s a bit ditzy when it comes to halving her portions, so she encourages her roommate to finish the rest of the course.

Over time her cooking improves, and with it, her opinion on her roommate’s taste. Barely even taking a few taste tests of her own food, she instead lets her roomie eat the whole meal. She’s already past the Freshman 15 at this point, and have already gone onto Baked Goods for the last half of the semester. Each attempt to refuse any more bites are met with sad eyes and guilt-laden words about food being needlessly thrown out. By the time the semester ends, she’s managed to pass her classes and her roommate has had to get a whole new wardrobe after going up two whole sizes during finals week. Already she’s imagining how many more techniques and recipes she’ll learn for the next four years along with how big her roommate might get…

I know I say every ask I get is super mega awesome epic but tbf yall keep sending me insanely hot concepts so like what else am I supposed to say?

Just imagine ending up with this sort of roommate! You head to your dorm, strike up some conversation to get to know each other, and invariably the topic shifts to diplomas. You explain you’re going into business, just number crunching for a nice and secure job. Yeah, a little soul-crushing, but at least you’ll be able to afford whatever you need and not have to worry about any terribly hard work (heavy lifting wasn’t really your style anyhow). She explains she wants to go into culinary, going on an on about how badly she’d like to open her own restaurant or even just a food truck. Her one hang up though: she’s worried she’s not quite good enough. You try to simply reassure her, eventually promising you’ll taste test all her food. I mean, couldn’t be too hard, right? Plus it means you can save on credits at the mess hall every other meal or so. She loves the idea, maybe a bit too quick to wrap you in a warm embrace as she thanks you considering you’ve only known each other an hour or so.

Within the first week you begin to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s not that the food is bad, far from it! The first meal she made you was fantastic, if a little under seasoned. You were sure to let her know that, and you kind of wonder if that’s what set her off like this, because once she heard that she quickly yolked the plate up from in front of you and made adjustments. They weren’t crazy ones, considering the food was already done, but all the same you could see her reseasoning the food before placing it back in front of you. Thus began the little dance the two of you did. You’d give criticism, and she’d be quick to adjust to try and meet your standards.

At first they were table-side adjustments, little things that certainly improved the dishes she made, but only slightly. Soon, however, you’d find yourself clearing one plate to have another placed right in front of you, your roommate eager to pick your brain. This wouldn’t have been such an issue, had she not seemingly been so insistent on you clearing your plate. She was sweet, but just a little air-headed, and took any thing short of a spotless plate as a statement about the quality of her food. You’d try and excuse yourself, only to look up and see her standing there all misty eyed; sniffling as she asked if there was something you didn’t like. So you grew used to finishing your plate. Your often heavy plate. Which was fine! You got used to hitting the gym the following morning anyway, especially once you noticed how all the fatty and starch heavy meals were cleaning to your once lithe frame anyhow. However, now you were being asked to finish another meal, give another opinion, and when you tried to insist you were full she’d look as if you personally had sentenced her childhood hamster to death. So you ate.

And ate.

And ate.

And ate.

You knew you should’ve drawn the line once she started stacking a third plate after your meals, and then a fourth. You wanted to say something, honest, but maybe you were interrupted by an errant burp in a futile effort to make space. Or maybe you were too focused on the way your pants dug into your pudgy belly to say no. Or maybe you were simply too dazed to speak, let alone lift your arm and shovel in anymore food. Soon meals changed, became these sorts of all-day affairs where you’d sample dish after dish. Eventually you had very little to criticize, her cooking was certainly only improving with each meal. The same way your stance was widening after each one. Your body jiggled with each step, your belly rested atop the widening space of your lap as your thighs pressed together all the way to your knees and then some. Your chest fattened and softened while your neck produced a prominent extra chin, your arms growing from toned to flabby as they were pinched by your ever-shrinking shirts. Your cheeks grew soft, cutely forcing your mouth into an almost permanent pout (whenever it wasn’t stuffed with food), and your ass turned many of your classes uncomfortable seats into cushioned thrones. Which would’ve been a delightful plus, if you weren’t spilling out of them.

You knew you had to say something. You stopped going to the gym once you started waking up nearly as full as when you went to sleep. Even talking on the treadmill for 5 minutes had you either panting or your tummy cramping, so you abandoned that little effort. Your old clothes don’t come close to covering your body anymore, and even the replacements you’ve bought leave little to the imagination. You could have stopped everything, put your foot down, and started dieting properly. You fully intended to do so when after the day you felt the seat of your pants rip when you bent down to grab your bag during class. You marched down the hall to your dorm, red in the face as you felt the hoodie wrapped around your waist slowly undo itself as your belly tugged at the failing knot with each ponderous step. You planned on telling your roommate that you couldn’t do this anymore. You swung the door open, your jaw hung open and forming the words ‘I’m done’, only to find something sweet and fruity steal the words from your mouth. Strawberry shortcake. You stopped and swallowed in shock, all that embarrassment and frustration fluttering away as the rich pastry disappeared on your tongue. And there your roommate was, hugging what she could reach of you and telling you finals were here, and she couldn’t be happy to have a friend like you helping her out. So, instead of going on a diet, you ended the night in a food coma, so throughly stuffed with sugar and pastries that your belly rose up before you like a wobbly dome as you collapsed in bed.

You couldn’t find the heart to speak up after that. The next two weeks felt like a maelstrom of sweets, a full on caloric assault with your metabolism and waistline as the victims. You wish you could speak up and say you hated how you ended every night so throughly bloated and stuffed you were panting like you’d ran a marathon, but some part of you insisted it wasn’t so bad. Sure, you could feel your hips graze the doorway when you waddle out of your dorm, but it stopped feeling so strange. This was also around the time your roommate began getting used to you growing so tired during your feedings that you’d just sit there in a haze, so she started feeding you. The first night that happened you both felt your faces flush as she wiped some icing from your chubby cheeks.

Last day of the semester, and you thankfully passed all your own exams. Most were online, thank god, because you weren’t so sure you had anything to wear to keep you decent. You tried some shorts the other day, and just getting them up your thighs was a massive battle. You barely managed to button them, only for the button to ping off across the room and crack a mirror as soon as you managed to sit up (an affair that took you about 10 minutes all on its own as you rolled too and fro like a turtle on its back). Your eyes looked at the damaged mirror and could hardly recognize the reflection.

All of your tops were makeshift bras at this point, impossible to pull down more than a few inches across the vast expanse of your stretch-mark laden gut before bunching back up. Your arms were permanently pinched by your sleeves, the slightest movement rolling them up as you struggled to sluggishly move them too and fro. Your hands and fingers had even gotten pudgy, softened with fat. Your thighs spilled out and filled most of your bed, letting your belly spill out in your lap like pudding as it flowed across it. Your eyes were permanently squinting at this point, and your actual chin was almost totally subsumed by your second one.

Just standing up was a chore that took a Herculean amount of effort, and staring at your reflection you almost wondered if you should just lie down instead. Some friends wanted to go out and celebrate the end of the semester, but you weren’t sure you could muster the energy. That was when your roommate burst in, happy as ever to announce she passed her finals. She practically sunk into your plush frame as she thanked you endlessly, certain she’d of failed without you. You couldn’t help but smile and laugh as you congratulate her, almost failing to notice the subtle blush on her face as she appraised your body. You felt her hand linger on your lovehandles just a few seconds longer than you’d expected, but you weren’t terribly opposed to that either. She told you the chef only took one bite out of what was a massive sheet cake, and it was your turn to blush when you heard your stomach growl in response to the mere mention of food. You told her you could try a slice, already planning out the excuse to text your friends to cancel your plans. The idea of finding something to wear out to the bars sounded exhausting, not to mention all the walking. You watched your roommate cut a slice from the cake, and as she did you tested trying to stand on your own, swinging yourself forward to gain some momentum only to have her insist she could bring it to you. That was good. Heavy lifting wasn’t really your style anyhow.

[speckoflust]

I've been given a new order: I have to leave this post up for one week. I am allowed to come for the duration, but once that time is up... For every like this post gets, I have to edge a full day. Please be kind 🥺 This puppy isn't sure how long they'll hold on for if they're stuck as a leaky, messy pet!

[tipsystar]

hey no offense but if i feed you a drink. Nd then another drink. and another drink and then some food. and tell you how cute you are when you’re tipsy and stuffing yourself and then i keep doing that till you’re sloppy drunk and so full you cant stand up woukd that be cool

[greatbigbellies]

Errs on the side of hyper preg shenanigans, but if you’re given a magic d20 that knocks you up with as many babies as you roll do you think you’re gonna take that gamble?

YES Even on a crit fail I get what I want, anything past that just makes it all the sweeter. If I genuinely managed to crit success and get 20 babies in me, that'd be the dreeeaaam.

[chnkydog]

the idea of going out with a usually very reserved feeder friend and them getting hammered and just pushing food onto me and slowly becoming more bold and shameless is a concept that i absolutely LOVE btw…. intox + feeders is something we should talk about more imo