Not being able to reach properly to masturbate is actually so so so so so fucking hot. Like the gluttony youâve brought on yourself is now the same reason why you canât reach over that soft gut and itâs so good. Itâs like those old myths and tales of how oneâs greed can come back to bite you in a much more hedonistic horny way. Its poetic and hot and I love it
I think more people should whimper and moan after they stuff themselves too full, so turned on you can see it thru their panties or boxers. I think more people should feel their brains go fuzzy when they walk and feel their fat wobbling and bouncing. I think popping buttons or seams on clothes should get them close to cumming I think that
In love with the idea of someone gaining weight to help alleviate dysphoria only to have it spiral out of control. Transmasc who canât wear binders trying to even themselves out by gaining to make their chest look more like moobs, but years later they find they donât really need top surgery because their breasts look tiny compared to their huge gut. Transfem who wants to boost her chest growth on E ends up 300 pounds heavier and giddy at the idea of getting so big her dick is basically just a clit sandwiched between useless roles. A little weight as a goal transforming into near endless hedonistic indulgence, transitioning not just in terms of gender but into something larger, rounder, heavier. So huge that no one questions your gender ever again, only how big you can possibly get in the future.
fat tboys everywhere i love you. never lose weight to satisfy the expectations of people who shouldn't mean anything to you. take up space. you deserve to take up space
I fantasize a lot about perma-intox feedist scenarios. A feedee whoâs 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 whoâs into the same thing and makes enough to allow them to turn into a weed-addicted pig who canât even focus long enough to count the number of pizza slices theyâve eaten. Just constantly high, hungry and horny, gaining pounds by the hundreds each year until theyâre 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
It's really slutty when restaurants call their menu items shit like "belly buster burger" or "butter drenched dough balls" yknow like that's just really slutty of them
itâs okay to like fat people. itâs okay to like it when people get fatter. itâs okay to want to get fat or get fatter. itâs okay to like to be fat. itâs okay to be open about what you like.
itâs also okay to have doubts, itâs okay to feel bad. itâs okay to let the pressure society throws at us get to you. itâs okay to not feel ready for certain things. itâs okay to be human.
but never, never force yourself to live an unauthentic life. live your truth, and do the necessary work so that you can experience everything youâve always wanted to. you owe it to yourself. because itâs okay to be yourself.
I have no fancy title for this piece - this is just a shameless self insert one shot for my piggy and I to enjoy
Kinks: weight gain, degradation, pet play (puppy, piggy, hog), mistress/slave elements, T4T
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The puppy sat nervously on the bed, shuffling a bit in the shorts. They cut in, not uncomfortably but definitely noticeably so, at the hips. An old picture of him in the same pair of shorts lay beside him on the bed - feeling like a different lifetime ago, and yet not so far away that it stirred a feeling within him about the change that had occurred in that length of time: he hoped it would have the same effect on her.
âCan I open them yet?â The voice of his Mistress sent a shiver down his spine as he sat and tried to pull the shorts down just a bit further as they hugged his thighs. She was stood not too far in front of him, one hand covering her eyes, the other dug in the roll on her hip as she seemed to get impatient at having to wait so long for her puppyâs surprise. He loved having her tower over him like this. Admittedly, side by side there wasnât much difference in their height - in fact, he had the upper hand on that front. But that did not matter when he was down on all fours for her.
Playing about with the positioning of the photo, he ultimately decided to hold the photo in his hands as he took a breath to try and settle his nerves. She made him so nervous - sometimes the sweet butterflies-in-your-stomach kinda nerves, other times the genuine fear-for-your-life kinda nerves you would most expect prey to feel in the presence of their predator, but thatâs exactly what got him off the most.
âOkay, you can open them now.â He tried to not let it show that his hands were shaking as he pressed the photo into his lap as her hand dropped and her eyes zoned in on her puppy sat beneath her. Eyebrow raised, she snatched the photo from his hands which caused the puppy to bite his lip. Her eyes scanned the photo - undeniably the picture depicted a much younger version of her puppy, donned in a pair of yellow and white checkered shorts. She doesnât seem to recognise the shorts from his usual wardrobe, so that definitely dates the photo. And in the photo, her puppy too is visually different. Not thin by any means, she canât be blamed for everything! But definitely not packing the heat heâd piled on since their perverted partnership. Barely an inkling of a roll starting to form at the waist as his hand in the photo seemed to cautiously lay atop the fat laying there. Their tummy just lightly covering the waist band, and the softening of the jawline just about evident.
âSo, whatâs this photo about puppy? Feeling nostalgââ She hadnât managed to finish her sentence as she finally got a look at her puppy, and the pieces started to fall into place. There her puppy was sat, donned in the same yellow and white checkered shorts. Only now, the tie for the waist band was almost completely hidden by the overhang of his gut that had clear evidence of being rather well-fed between the time of the photo and now. The once much looser shorts now fitting much more comfortably as there was much less give in the fabric, most of it clinging to the tops of his fleshed out thighs. The puppy felt his cheeks start to burn red as he felt the eyes of his Mistress stare down at his soft gut, taking in the shape and size of his body, her eyes flicking back between the photo and himself.
Not only had the size of his tummy grown, but there were definitely extra inches on his arms and his thighs too. The once soft jawline carried a now clearly defined extra chin. Once visible collarbones now hidden by a soft layer of fat on the surface. Her eyes darted once again, comparing the once cute and small belly button which was now much deeper and squished by all the extra fat on his gut. It was her turn to bite down on her lip, fighting with herself to keep up her composure as she noticed the once smooth sides of his waist in the photo, compared to that of the puppy sat on her bed with a definite crease at each side of his enlarged stomach.
âI found them when I was back home this weekend. I vaguely remembered a picture Iâd taken in them, and thought I could put on a nice before and after for you, Mistress,â he couldnât quite meet her eye as he played with the ends of the shorts in his hands, âor maybe, I should say this is my during? I know your work isnât finished with me yet.â He teased her at the end, hoping to rile a reaction out of her. Her eyes darted right back to him as she bit down on her lip harder now, fearing sheâd draw blood if not for the fact all of it had rushed right down to the mess throbbing in her pants at that moment. âYouâd be right with that assumption.â She managed to get out, in a voice so low that it was akin to a growl.
She placed the photo down next to him on the bed, in clear enough view that she could still continue to study and compare as she got a good view of her puppy sat before her.
âGrab your stomach. Play with it. Show me just how much youâve put on in your desperate attempts to impress me.â
And so it began. Heâd got the reaction he wanted. Trying to ignore the shakiness, he brushed it off by grabbing firmly at his stomach and kneading it in a way he knew she found the most gratifying. One hand played with the doughy fat at his sides as the other played around his lower stomach, occasionally digging a thumb into his belly button as he grabbed at his gut.
âYouâve definitely grown some, piggy. Definitely changed compared to that photo. You can feel it, canât you? How much extra fat makes up your gorging gut now. How much your unadulterated gluttony combined with your pathetic desire to be a good pet for me has irrevocably wreaked havoc on that poor gut of yours.â
Her words sent shivers down his spine and he couldnât help but let out a whimper as he looked down at his fat gut in his hands. The soft fat was intoxicating. The feel of it was so satisfying and incredibly erotic as he couldnât help but think about her influence as he played with it. It was true that he not only wanted to get big, he so desperately wanted to get even bigger for her. It didnât matter what he thought was right, when he thought it was best to stop. If she said carry on, it was bite after agonising bite. In spite of protest, whines, cries that he was beyond full - she got to decide when they were done.
âYour face, your arms, your thighs, but most of all that fat stomach of yours - all evidence of your perverted desire to become so unimaginably big for me, arenât they, pig? You mustâve put on, what? 30, maybe 35 pounds since that photo?â
âAbout 40.â He whimpered in response, digging his thumb deep into the crevice of his belly button now as he squirmed on the bed. His Mistress fought hard to fight back a moan at the amount gained as she took a step closer to the bed now.
Hands gripping into his thighs, with minimal effort she shoved her puppy further down the bed so she could position one knee between his pillowy thighs. This caused a gasp out of her puppy, as his hands fell back behind him to keep himself steady.
âDid I say you could stop playing with your belly?â She questioned, ready to raise a hand to bring down harshly atop the exposed flesh. Those nerves rising in him once again, the puppy quickly put his hands on his gut and started to rub once again - making sure to shake and jiggle the fat to put on a good show for his Mistress.
âYou were right about my plans for you, by the way. I donât intend on stopping here. This comparison was incredibly gratifying and erotic for me, so I praise you for knowing me so well. But I donât think youâre prepared for what I have planned for you, yet.â
She dug her knee in at the utterance of that nerve-wracking yet, and he let out another pathetic whimper, âSo⌠What do you plan to do with me, Mistress?â He asked sheepishly. He believed too that he wasnât prepared for what she had in store, didnât mean he wasnât curious or desperate to hear about it though.
âWell, for starters, youâre barely tipping close to the size I was at my prime, so thatâs a good goal for us to begin with,â she said, an evil smirk spreading across her face as she grabbed the fat of her own stomach and squished it against his body, causing a whine to fall from her puppyâs lips, âbesides, we both love a good contrast, so it is paramount we make you even *bigger*.â This caused a moan to fall from her puppyâs lips as he grabbed deep at his stomach now.
âI mean. It is pathetic how badly I can tell you want it. Every time I catch you staring at my body with not just lust, but a sense of longing. I can tell you want to be big like me. But not just as big as me, even wider. You want to be such a fat fucking pig for me, overstuffed gut constantly bloated and weighed down by your own layers of lard youâve packed on. It feels shameful to desire such a level of hedonism and gluttony, but deep down - I know itâs what you crave, right piggy? To gain pounds upon pounds, feel yourself grow larger and wider, taking up so much space your fat and size is inescapable.â
Her knee was grinding in circles now, and her poor puppy was holding back tears from how turned on he felt. He knew heâd get a rise out of her, but never anticipated itâd flick this sort of switch off in her.
âWell, you wanna know what I want, pig?â Her knee dug in closer and started to grind deeper now, âFirst of all, these pretty shorts of yours?â She pushed him back onto the bed and he collapsed in a writhing and whimpering pile. With one hand, she dug for the waist band of the shorts under his stomach and pulled them back to get a good look at the red marks imposed on the skin from how tight they were, âI need these to barely get over the fat caking your thighs. I want to stuff you so huge, they start to tear at the seams the next time you attempt to put them on. I want the tie to become non existent, lost in the fabric as it has to expand that far to fit around your distended gut.â
The image she was forming was causing him to become light headed with how desperately he needed it. Admittedly, not only because of how much she wanted it - but because, truly, he craved it too. He wanted so badly to surpass her, to grow even bigger and fatter in a form of devotion to her. Every pound of fat and lard an offering of his adoration for her glory and power over him. Each roll, every stretch mark, the extra chins - all telling of how much he worshipped her every beck and call like the obedient pet he was for her.
âItâs honestly kind of disgusting the lengths youâd go just to satisfy me, piggy,â she smirked down at him, and finally he felt her hands on him and it felt like fireworks went off at her touch, âhow much youâd debase yourself and lose yourself in fat and lard. How, deep down I know you crave nothing more than to become my obscenely obese plaything? Youâd never actually admit to it, but I know itâs true. I can feel it deep in there. Secretly you want to gain so, so much more. So much more people canât ignore it anymore. Canât chalk it up to happy relationship weight, or maybe the normal weight youâd see start to creep up on you when your metabolism slows down. No. I know that deep, deep down that thereâs that depraved part of you that wants to become unrecognisable in your devotion to me. Drowning in layers of extra fat, so fat all you can do is get your face stuffed and your fat fucked silly by your Mistress, day in, day out. Because thatâs all youâre good for, isnât it, pet? Being my prized fat hog, no longer just some silly piglet showing off how his shorts are a tad tighter. I want, no, I need you to outgrow not just these shorts, but all the clothes you own. Make you embarrassed by all the clothes you burst out of, and tease you for how fucking worked up it makes you each and every time.â
He was completely gone at this point. Any semblance of coherent thought had left as he delved deeper into the fantasy she was painting in his precious head. Whimpering and writhing beneath her touch, he didnât even comprehend how badly he was grinding up against her knee at this point - lost so deep in a trance that he hadnât even noticed she wasnât moving anymore, all the motion was coming from his desperation. Pleas fell from his mouth as he begged with her to force him to come over this. He wanted nothing more than to succumb to the depravity of his desires.
âTell me youâll do it,â she grabbed his face and forced him to look up at her now, the grip rousing him just enough to pay attention to her words, âTell me youâll actually do it. Become as fat as I crave, break not just these shorts but also your mind as you become my own personal fat fuck toy. Say youâll be mine.â
âIâm yours, Mistress! All yours, every bit. Please, you can do what you like to me, anything at all. Make me so fat, Mistress. So fucking fat.â He just about managed to get the words out as he continued to hump her knee, trying to press his stomach up against hers.
Whatever he said seemed to work, as she pressed her body against his, and revelled in her feast. She may not eat pork, but she sure loved devouring her pig.
Every overindulgence is a permanent reminder on your body of your greed. Trying to move your body around leaves you in a state of breathlessness as you are simply too weak to carry the burden of your own gluttony. The people around you could not possibly imagine the sexual arousal fueling your food (fat) addiction, getting turned on at the mere thought of overstuffing yourself far beyond your limits. Every time you eat you always manage to overdo it and youâre left in a moaning, whimpering comatose-like state, stuck to the spot you began in as you couldnât possibly manage to stand up on your own. But nothing else turns you on, now doesnât it? Addicted to being my greedy âlittleâ piggy jiggling about in ill-fitting clothing practically bursting at the seams, never having anything that fits quite right. Such inconvenience is worth it for the beauty that fat brings đŤŚ