encouragement <3 keep those bellies full
encouragement <3 keep those bellies full
2023-06-02 21:39:45 +0000 UTC View Post
shawtythatluvsurgut activity
I need to shave hehe I hope you all have been eating well a..
I need to shave hehe I hope you all have been eating well and taking good care of yourselves! Keep those tummies full babes š and Iāll do the same Expect a new encouragement clip coming later this week!
2023-05-28 21:11:56 +0000 UTC View Postš My next post, Iāll be nude š
š My next post, Iāll be nude š
2023-05-26 18:28:28 +0000 UTC View Postafter yesterdayās stuffing š my hips are getting softer whic..
after yesterdayās stuffing š my hips are getting softer which makes me happy. i keep looking at the pictures I posted yesterday and I canāt stop staring at my hips. i hope they get bigger š©
2023-05-24 17:00:50 +0000 UTC View PostThe poll has spoken! From my ramen stuffing this morning :)
The poll has spoken! From my ramen stuffing this morning :)
2023-05-23 18:00:01 +0000 UTC View PostLet me know what I should focus on for my content! I want to..
Let me know what I should focus on for my content! I want to give you guys what you want to see!
2023-05-23 13:19:39 +0000 UTC View Post<3 can you see how my tits are growing out of this piece? i ..
<3 can you see how my tits are growing out of this piece? i love it š„µ
2023-05-22 17:03:04 +0000 UTC View Postgetting softer day by day ā¤ļø if anyone wants to send me a ti..
getting softer day by day ā¤ļø if anyone wants to send me a tip, iāll use it at the asian marketplace later and maybe iāll even record myself eating what i get for you hehe šš¤
2023-05-19 15:27:26 +0000 UTC View PostSorry for the low quality! But Iām back babes :) I hope youā..
Sorry for the low quality! But Iām back babes :) I hope youāve all stayed well-fed and are hungry for more š
2023-05-15 18:55:56 +0000 UTC View PostIām starting my thick era š starting to love my body and I c..
Iām starting my thick era š starting to love my body and I cannot wait to get even thicker. (Iāll have a new part to my story up soon, Iāve just been struggling to find motivation to write. Also, I wonāt be active for a few days because Iāll have company over. Iāll still be answering messages, I just wont be posting for a couple days. Iāll be back to posting on Monday, though! Thx for your ongoing support and understanding!)
2023-05-12 14:38:18 +0000 UTC View PostIāll send full nudes to anyone who wants to send me a tip he..
Iāll send full nudes to anyone who wants to send me a tip hehe š¤ā¤ļø
2023-05-11 04:16:25 +0000 UTC View PostIām getting chubby hehe I have this fantasy about becoming a..
Iām getting chubby hehe I have this fantasy about becoming a chubby, demanding, dominant feedee that makes you go fetch me food. Maybe thatās the idea for my next story š
2023-05-09 17:51:10 +0000 UTC View PostCan you tell Iām stuffed? Hehe Any tips will go towards more..
Can you tell Iām stuffed? Hehe Any tips will go towards more food š
2023-05-06 18:19:01 +0000 UTC View Post
swipe to the end šš° i hope youāve all been good and iāll sta..
swipe to the end šš° i hope youāve all been good and iāll start writing a new story soon. thank you all for your patience and ideas i received in my inbox! iāve been taking it easy because my job had worn me down honestly, so now that I have a break iām taking it. that being said, this week Iāll start writing a new story and Iāll have it uploaded sometime soon. Thanks for the understanding! Muah š
2023-04-28 16:40:11 +0000 UTC View PostIāll come up with a new story idea soon. In the meantime, he..
Iāll come up with a new story idea soon. In the meantime, hereās some pics to hold you over. Muah! Thank you all for your patience and support <3
2023-04-25 04:24:04 +0000 UTC View Posthey guys. iāll have a new post up later today. iām sorry i h..
hey guys. iāll have a new post up later today. iām sorry i havenāt been online much. this is embarrassing to admit, but i actually lost my job a couple days ago. i got dehydrated at work and they fired me because it made me sick which apparently caused a āsafety hazardā. idk itās bullshit if you ask me, but i work in the food industry so thatās to be expected. Anyhow, I guess now more than ever tips would be greatly appreciated if you can afford them. The bright side to all of this is that now I have more time to dedicate to making content for all of you! Any help/support is appreciated and hang tight for a new post from me later tonight. Thank you guys for your continued love n care! <3
2023-04-24 13:46:59 +0000 UTC View PostThe first thing you do is try to get your brain back online...
The first thing you do is try to get your brain back online. Breathe. You need to breathe. Your brain interprets this message as āYou should inhale once as deeply as you can and suck your gut in and maybe Nico wonāt notice youāre fat.ā Even as you do it, you know itās ridiculous. For one thing, Iāve got a handful of your belly flab in my iron grip. And besides- you can suck in a little pooch, maybe, but a gut that fills your entire lap, that falls between your thighs and presses into table ledges and rests on counters? A belly so wide that your hands barely come together underneath it? Is not suck-in-able. Still, the abs you once had must be somewhere, buried underneath all that fat, and when you suck in, your tummy moves back a few inches. Embarrassingly, itās still touching me, still pressed against my small frame and flat stomach and the sharp lines of my stupidly visible hipbones. āRelax, baby,ā I say, and I loosen my hold on your tummy fat, giving it a gentle little pat instead. You can feel your belly jiggle under my hand, and your whole body sparks with burning arousal and shame. You exhale, and your gut flops forward again. If you could roll onto your tummy and bury your red face in your pillow, you totally would. As it is, though, thereās no room to move- and youāve been too fat to lay on your tummy for the better part of a year, anyway. I pat your belly again, a curious little tap that you canāt quite read, and then look you directly in the face, my eyes sparkling even in the gloom of the bedroom. āWell?ā Seriously. So fucking pushy. āI donāt know, Nico. It justā¦ā You trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. āIt just happened.ā I raise an eyebrow, and my mouth curves up into a little smile that makes me look so cute itās almost unfair. A stupidly pretty girl, staring up at you with an expression that manages to be both cocky and utterly earnest. āIt just happened that you gained a hundred pounds?ā I glance down at your belly doubtfully, and you know Iām thinking- rightly so- that itās probably quite a bit more than one hundred, even. Fucking Nico. Bane of your existence. You should have never answered the goddamn door. You clear your throat. āI was hungry,ā you finally say. āOh, well that explains it then,ā I chirp, my little smile splitting into a sarcastic grin. āMakes perfect sense.ā You shrug. What else could you say? You could say that your work-from-home job left you with a lot of free time on your hands and that itās not your fault that you have a big appetite. You could say that you were bored. You could say that you really liked to cook. If you were feeling particularly confessional, you could even say that youāve always liked food, that even in high school, sometimes youād eat too much, just for the white-hot little thrill of it; that you can remember times when you would have pocket money and spent it all on candy bars, walking home and eating them one by one until your stomach hurt. You sometimes still do that, and then lock yourself in your bedroom and have the most shockingly intense orgasm of your life, surreptitiously jerking off and staring down at your distended belly, feeling your forearm bump it with every stroke. You could say that you started doing that secret thing where youād stuff yourself until it hurt to move and then jerk off in painful, bloated misery and acute, mind-blowing pleasureā too often. Daily. Until it had become a habit, until youād gained and gained and gained. Until you were fat, and fatter, and fatter. But you donāt say any of that; you canāt say any of that. āIāwell.ā You pause, shifting a little and laying your hand on my firm upper arm. It seems acceptable to touch me; after all, Iām still resting my own hand on your gut. āI guess I just like how it feels to be weighed down.ā You give my bicep a squeeze. āIs it weird thatā¦ā I trail off, biting my lip in contemplation. āI want to feed you.ā You smile. āOkay,ā you say absurdly, as if thatās all that needs to be said on the subject, as if itās that easy to dismiss. I slide my hand up, from the side swell of your belly to where your ribs would be if you werenāt so fat. You hold your breath again, and I slide my hand up further, further, until my cool, thin fingers are resting on your cheek. āI missed you,ā I whisper. You grin, trying not to indicate that your heart is pounding out of your chest. āShit, Nico, I missed you too.ā And then itās just right there, the precipice of this thing weāve been moving inexorably toward nearly all this time, over months and different time zones. In the end, itās just another ledge to jump from, but you donāt have the nerve. Itās me who moves those few inches forward and kisses you, just like youāve always known it would be. Iāve always been the dominant one. My mouth is soft, and even though you can tell Iām nervous- Iām practically vibrating with tension- I donāt hesitate. Of course I donāt. I never do. I kiss you firmly, my lips just slightly parted, and before you can even quite wrap your head around whatās happening, Iām sucking your lower lip into my insistent mouth, tugging you into the kiss with the same demanding nerve that had landed me on your doorstep a month ago. It doesnāt take you long to get with the program, though. You slide your hand up to the nape of my neck, pull me closer and deepen the kiss a little, taking control just to see what I will do. I begin to shift my hands to your belly as to claim my territory as the dominant. It makes me want to laugh, makes me want to shout with joy, when you surrender, letting me lead again without even a moment of hesitation. So I do, sliding into the driverās seat and kissing you with a sprawling, lazy kind of intensity that makes you absolutely mindless. Unsurprisingly, Iām pushy in bed, too- I pull you closer and closer, my hands gripping your soft biceps and tugging; dragging you forward until more and more of your weight is resting on me. You let me do it; let me pull you closer and closer, shamelessly needy, until youāre propped up by your own fat belly spilling onto my lean torso; the weight of your gut heavy between us. Itās the first time youāve fooled around since you got quite this big, and you arenāt really prepared for what it feels like to do this with so much fat in the way. Itās a little awkward. Your big belly keeps you from being as close to me as youād like, and the easy, graceful way youād moved with old lovers, easily shifting against another person, is impossible now. It should be embarrassing- and it is, a little- but fuck, itās sexy, too. I can feel your dick through your briefs, hot and hard against your bare lower belly, your t-shirt rucked halfway up your gut. And I can feel my own pussy, too, throbbing in my underwear. Itās weirdly, frantically sexy, the way your belly connects us and separates us at once. āFuck, fuck. Oh my God.ā I moan and bring my hands back up to your wide bicep, squeezing gently, the sensation reminding you that even your arm has gotten fat. āRoll over, babe,ā I whisper. āOn your back.ā You donāt move for a second, and I bite my bottom lip anxiously. āPlease.ā I could ask you to go to the moon right now and youād do it. So you do, pulling me with you as you flop down onto your back. I roll with you, as graceful as you are ungainly, and then Iām straddling you, and itās just like I had pictured it; my legs spread wide to accommodate your fat belly, my clit pressed up against the fattest, softest part of your gut. I donāt move for a moment, just gazing down at you in the darkness. āTake this off,ā I demand suddenly, tugging at the hem of your tight t-shirt. Fuck. A million excuses spring to your lips. Iām cold, or I donāt want to, or just plain no. But Iām looking down at you, earnest and sweet, blue eyes wide as saucers. āPlease,ā I whisper again, like I know you canāt say no to it. āOkay.ā You push yourself up on your elbows, considering. āMake yourself useful,ā you mumble, gesturing for me to tug your t-shirt up. The truth is that you canāt quite pull yourself into a sitting position without rolling onto your side. Your tummyās in the way- and Iām on your lap which doesnāt help, either. I grin at you, wide and sunny and just the slightest bit predatory- not a look you had expected from me, although you probably should have. Iāve always been like this, relentless in the pursuit of something I want. I run one hand over your exposed lower belly, my touch so gentle that you gasp with it, feeling like there must be a direct line between your belly and your cock. Then I smile again, carefully pulling your t-shirt up. āSit up a little more, baby,ā I say when I canāt tug your shirt any higher because itās pinned under your back. You feel your cheeks heat up. āI canāt, not when youāre on top of me like this.ā āWith this in the way, you mean,ā I murmur, my voice casual, almost off-hand, as I pat your tummy. You contemplate spontaneous orgasm or sudden death, and I lean forward, gripping your elbow and tugging you up by an inch or two, freeing the back of your t-shirt and dragging it over your head with absolutely zero finesse. āThere,ā I say, tossing the offending shirt onto the floor and staring down at you, my eyes glued to your newly exposed midsection, my gaze so intense that you feel a little like a bug pinned under glass. A very fat bug. It goes on like this- youāre frozen, Iām staring- so long that you can hardly stand it, until I look up at you and lean down, dropping my lean midsection against the bloated curve of your belly, one hand coming up to cup the softness of your chest. āYou feel good,ā I mumble against your neck, gracelessly pushing my clit against your belly again. You grin in the darkness, relief pounding in your heart, and bring your hands up to my hips, tugging me closer. āYou do, too.ā Later, when weāve kissed until our lips are chapped; when weāve ground our hips together until you think your lower belly might actually be chafed from the friction of my soaked panties rubbing against the lower curve of your gut, we caress each others bodies like thereās not belly in the way. Except itās not exactly in the way because we both know see how badly I want it there. You ask me if I want you to touch my wet pussy with your hand and I push it down into my panties. I use my free hand to push your fat tummy out of the way to touch your cock. When itās over, when I am sprawled across your gut and weāre both sticky with cum, panting and sweaty, itās me who finds my tongue first. āThis better than writing a letter?ā You nod, trying to conjure up some words āYeah,ā you pant. āYeah, so much better.ā (Part 6)
2023-04-17 17:43:08 +0000 UTC View Posti screenshotted these from a video i took a few days ago and..
i screenshotted these from a video i took a few days ago and i figured you guys might wanna see ;) a new set of photos with this dress will be uploaded soon!
2023-04-14 21:58:37 +0000 UTC View PostāScoot over,ā you say, tugging at the hem of your shirt, whi..
āScoot over,ā you say, tugging at the hem of your shirt, which I am disappointed to see that youāre still wearing. Your belly, freed from the tyranny of your tightly-belted pants, cascades over your boxers and out from under the cotton of your t-shirt, and no matter how you pull it down, several inches of soft flab are visible. I look to my right, where there is approximately one inch of available mattress space. āScoot where?ā I ask drily. You glance over at me and sigh. āThis bed is small.ā I blink. Youāre big, more like. I smile a little, elbowing you and then holding back a gasp at the way your side squishes and yields, your ribs buried under all those thick inches of pudge. I can feel you start relax, your plush, padded back pressed into me. Even through the thin cotton of your t-shirt, I can see- and feel- the way your love handles wrap around your body, the way another thick, soft roll forms under your arm and stacks on top of it, so much extra fat that itās literally piling up. Itās all I can do to resist the urge to sit up and look you up and down; see what your tummy looks like when youāre on your side. Big. It probably looks really big, all spread out andā āMaybe youād be more comfortable on the couch. You can-ā I immediately hold up my hand. āI hate sleeping alone.ā I admit. āAnd youāre nice and warm.ā āThat why youāre here now, Nico?ā I ponder the question. āIām here because Iām sleepy,ā I lie. āThen go to sleep,ā you say, your voice a little tough, a little sweet, like you canāt quite decide which you want to be. ā¦ I am quiet for five minutes. Ten. Iām frozen, completely aware of the heat of your body; how warm and close you are; the way my shoulder is pressed gently against the aching softness of your back. Twenty. āTurn over,ā I finally say. You clear your throat. āWhy?ā āBecause I know youāre awake.ā Thereās a beat of silence that goes on so long that Iām not sure youāre going to do it, but then you start to move. I hold my breath, watching in the dim glow of the streetlight through the window as you heave yourself over, using your hands to push yourself first onto your back, then rolling slowly onto your side so that youāre facing me. Itās not particularly graceful- a little like a turtle on its back- and when you flop over to face me, your belly fills all the available space between us, squishing up against my arm and ribs and hip like a warm, heavy pillow. āNot enough room this way,ā you mumble, and I can see the blush stain your cheeks even in the dim light. āYes there is,ā I say immediately, making absolutely no move to scoot over at all. Thereās nowhere for me to go, anyway. āItās fine.ā I shift, turning so that Iām facing youā so that your fat, fat stomach is pushed up against me, from my chest all the way down to my pussy, which I seriously hope you canāt feel due to how wet I am. Your body takes up so much roomā spills into my space so muchā that it almost doesnāt even feel like a big deal, when I place my hand very, very gently onto the side swell of your enormous belly, where itās spilling out from under your inadequate t-shirt. It feels so soft, like butter beneath my hand, malleable and thick and warm, that I can barely breatheāand you quit breathing altogether. āSo how did all this happen?ā I ask, keeping my voice even through sheer force of will. We might as well be talking about the weather. You inhale harshly, and your tummy rises like dough under my hand. My grip tightens around a side-roll automatically. Suddenly Iām not just touching your belly, but pinching a generous handful of it. If your dick wasnāt hard before, it is now. (part 5)
2023-04-10 12:58:31 +0000 UTC View PostWeāre both six beers deep, the shark documentary long ended ..
Weāre both six beers deep, the shark documentary long ended and given way to a special about arachnids, when I yawn enormously, sprawling back even further against the sofa cushions. The beers seem to have relaxed us a little; drained away some of the tension. āWanna stay here tonight?ā You ask, the words falling out of your mouth without any consideration at all. You immediately wish you could pull them back. I stare straight at the tv, as if Iāve never seen anything more engaging than the spider on the screen. āDepends. Do I have to sleep on the couch?ā You swallow hard, thinking about your own bed now, how much of the full-size mattress you take up all on your own. How the bed sinks under your weight. How your tummy spreads out beside you on the mattress, undeniably and embarrassingly fat. āWhat, youāre too good for the couch?ā Youāre staring at the spider, too, watching an unsuspecting fly buzz into her web. Trapped. Stuck fast. I scoff, glancing over at you. āIām not sleeping on the damn couch. I want to be close to you.ā I stubbornly insist. You inhale and your heart flutters. Youāre not so sure you and I will both fit in the bed, either. āPrima donna.ā āI donāt snore,ā I offer, draining the last of my beer. You watch my throat move with each swallow. āFine, fine. Always so goddamned pushy,ā You say, your delivery pleasantly blasĆ©, as if your heart isnāt thundering in your chest. ā¦ā¦ The magnitude of what it means to stay overnight, to sleep in your bed doesnāt hit me until itās actually happening. I hadnāt really thought about it- about how frighteningly intimate it will be- until Iām sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to emerge from behind the closed bathroom door, and I realize I have no fucking idea what to do with myself. It had seemed as easy as breathing, agreeing to sleep over. Iām half convinced Iāll break apart with nerves before you walk back into the room. Finally, I just swallow hard and tug my shirt over my head and kick out of my skirt. āMaybe he will strip down, too,ā I think, and immediately feel guilty for it; for the rush of instant, white-hot arousal and curiosity and aching, torturous desire that flits down my spine at the thought of you sliding out of your t-shirt, revealing your big, soft body, the outrageous rolls and curves of it. That big belly. Fuck. Every torturous masturbation session Iāve had in the last month, every moment Iāve spent in agonizing contemplation of every additional pound packed onto your strained frame, comes rushing back to me in shameful clarity. Before I can really work myself into a proper fit of arousal, you amble out of the bathroom in that weirdly seductive, rolling strut you have now. You walk like a cowboy, legs spread wide, gait sprawling and loose-limbed, your enormous belly and thick thighs dictating every step. Youāre still fully clothed, to my perverse disappointment, but your hair is freshly brushed, and the minty-medicinal scent of toothpaste wafts in with you. āMake yourself at home.ā You say sarcastically. You give me a pointed look up-and-down, your eyes lingering on my tits for just long enough to make me blush. āCanāt sleep in clothes,ā I say, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my bare chest. āItās a thought,ā you say awkwardly. I cough. āYou were never this shy before.ā You blink, looking at me for a second and then looking away. The āI was never this fat before,ā goes unspoken. āMove over, thatās my side,ā you finally say. Obligingly, I shift back onto the bed and scoot to the opposite side, feeling painfully awkward and hating it, barely resisting the urge to pull the sheet up and over my face. This shouldnāt be so fucking hard. Iāve slept next to people Iāve been attracted to before, many times. So why should this be different? Because heās different, I think, staring helplessly as you pad across the room, your fat belly leading the way. You stop at the edge of the bed, legs spread wide to support yourself, and you look so fucking big, so wide and fat and plush that I donāt think Iāll ever get tired of looking at you. Thereās just so goddamned much of you now. You stand still, almost frozen, for so long that I open my mouth to speak. Before any words can come out, though, you seem to come to some kind of internal decision. You turn off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in shadow, and then shrug the tiniest bit before reaching down to your waistband. Which means, of course, that you have to reach under your stomach. Which means that you have to lean forward and tilt just a bit sideways in order to get your hands beneath the dome of your enormous belly, where the roundness of your gut gives way to buttery softness. I realize, with something like awe, that itās a chore, just maneuvering around your belly to get undressed. Fuck. Thatās hot. From my vantage point on the bed, I can see the way your tummy spills over your waistband; hangs over your beltā and I can see the way you have to heft it out of the way with one hand and flick open your belt buckle with the other. The way your soft, wide gut gets pushed up by your hand, all that soft, tender fleshā fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I finally throw my arm over my eyes, leaning back against the headboard like Iām exhausted, just to keep from staring. Just to keep from doing something I regret. If you notice my avid interest, you donāt comment on it. Youāre silent, and the only thing I can hear in the room is the jingle of your belt buckle as your jeans drop to the floor; the slight hitch of your breath as you lean forward. Over your tummy, probably? I squeeze my eyes shut tighter beneath my arm, willing my own breathing to stay even. The images of you Iām conjuring in my mind- you leaning over your enormous tummy, slowly resting a hand on your swollen belly, short of breath from four plates of fattening, rich, creamy pasta and half a dozen beers and a few bottles of Coke thrown in for good measure- are probably even worse for my composure than actually watching you in real life, when youāre just trying to get into bed like a normal fucking person. Before I can even peek out from under my arm and sneak a look at you, see if the reality of you undressing is anywhere close to the earth-shatteringly sexy sight Iām imagining, the bed dips dangerously to the left. You flop back against the headboard with a sigh, your soft side pressed against my bicep; your padded hip and fat thigh smashed into mine. Youāre touching me everywhere, taking up all the available space and spilling over against me. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. This is more than I was bargaining for when I demanded to sleep in your bed. This is exactly what I was bargaining for when I demanded to sleep in your bed. (part 4)
2023-04-09 01:16:51 +0000 UTC View PostWhen you had volunteered to cook this evening, throwing it o..
When you had volunteered to cook this evening, throwing it out casually on our way back from getting coffee, it had felt like a little bit of an offering. It had felt intimate, somehow; domestic in a way that made my heart skid pleasantly along in my chest. Sort of like how watching you amble up the stairs to your apartment, heavy and slow and oddly graceful, had made my heart race, too. Sort of like how just being next to you makes my heart pound. Sort of like how right now, watching you casually chopping onions, is enough to have me practically beside myself. Fuck. You look beautiful, standing there in your little galley kitchen. Youāre looking down at the counter, concentrating on chopping that damn onion like itās your job, the knife in your hand moving so quickly that I think vaguely that maybe I should be concerned that you might lose a finger. Youāre looking down, and it makes your double chin look enormous, a soft ring of pudge that, combined with your very full cheeks, makes your handsome face a perfect circle. And your bellyā Fuck. Your belly is resting heavily on the counter, several inches of t-shirt-covered tummy flab spilling onto the counter. You donāt have a choice; it just sort of flops there, filling up the available space. I swallow hard and remind myself not to stare. āWhat should I do?ā I ask, coughing to hide the way my voice cracks a little, like Iām a teenager again. You peer up at me from under the little curtain of loose hair falling over your forehead. āPut some water on to boil?ā You jerk your chin toward the cabinet beside you. āThe pot is in there.ā I smile. āAll you want me to do is boil water?ā āIāve eaten your cooking. You boil everything. You should have a natural aptitude.ā Youāre looking back down at your work, but I can hear the smile in your voice. I step behind you, moving around you to reach into the cabinet as instructed, and my chest brushes against your broad back. Itās unavoidableā in your narrow kitchen, you take up most of the available spaceā and it makes me inhale so hard I end up coughing. You feel soft, so fucking soft, and even in the .3 seconds it takes for me to slide past you, I can feel the way your plush love handles wrap around your back, the extra weight you carry on your midsection marching all the way around your torso and forming rolls of soft, plush fat that ring your entire frame. Jesus Christ. Why does it matter to me so much? Why is it all I can think about? Why is it all I can feel? I try a few more times to offer my assistance, but you mostly wave me off, and I find myself standing in the corner of the kitchen, just watching you work. You dice chicken thighs, your knife again moving with a fearful kind of quickness. You sautĆ© onions and garlic, throwing them into a skillet with oil and butter and spices, while penne boils on the back burner. You grate cheese, measure cups of heavy cream, and throw additional chunks of butter into the pan for no apparent reason that I can discern beyond whim. Itās sort of mesmerizing, watching you cook, and I am struck by the quiet confidence of your movements. You hand me a plate of buttery, indulgent-looking pasta, drenched in cream sauce and tossed with chicken and mushrooms. Thatās all you, shooting me a cocky smile. āTold you I could cook.ā āI didnāt think you couldnāt,ā I say, my eyes darting down to your belly before I can stop them. You raise an eyebrow but donāt say anything, just waddle out of the kitchen and past the little table by the window, flopping down in your customary corner of the couch and flipping on the tv, settling on a documentary about sharks. You rest your plate on the arm of the sofa, a perfectly reasonable thing to do, but I wonder perversely if you prop it on your belly when youāre alone. You certainly could, if you wanted to. Itās big enough. The conversation over dinner slips seamlessly from past to present, from reminiscing about the old times to harmless gossip about new drama surfacing. It feels easy; comfortable between us, so much so that I donāt even hesitate when you scrape your plate clean. I just reach out and grab it, heading to the kitchen and refilling it without asking. I put my own plate in the sink and grab two beers on my way back. When I hold the plate out for you, thereās a slight hesitation, just long enough for me to hold my breath, but you eventually reach out and take it. āThanks,ā you say. I shrug it off, and this time I sit down a little closer to you. Not quite next to you ā still far enough away for propriety ā but closer. When you finish your second plate, I reach out again, wordlessly, and you hand it over. The fourth time it happens, you shake your head. āIām good, thanks.ā āYou sure?ā I mean for it to come out casually, but the words feel like they catch in my throat somehow, suddenly feeling weightier than they should be. You raise one wide shoulder a few inches. āNot exactly wasting away over here.ā āThank god,ā I mumble, and then snatch your plate and make a procedure out of rinsing and stacking it in the sink, desperate for something to do with my hands. (part 3)
2023-04-07 22:13:01 +0000 UTC View Postmy hair is now black š¤ Iāll add a new part to my story in ..
my hair is now black š¤ Iāll add a new part to my story in the next post āŗļø
2023-04-07 02:58:22 +0000 UTC View PostYou glance over at me a few times as we amble down the sidew..
You glance over at me a few times as we amble down the sidewalk, only half-listening to what Iām sayingāsomething about foodāin favor of just enjoying the sound of my voice. I sound happy. I look happy. Itās been a month now, since I showed up uninvited on your doorstep. A month of weekly visits, occurring like clockwork every Saturday morning, with me showing up on your doorstep, still looking like a kid on a date, although you try to disavow yourself of this notion. Itās hard, though, when I always have my hair done and my eyes all earnest, and i usually have some little offering tucked under my elbow. A dozen donuts in a bakery box; a six pack of dark beer; fresh bagels and coffee. At first, you had hesitated every time I handed over whatever Iād brought with me, but I had always just waved off your concerns and shoved over whatever form of carbs I had happened to have brought that day. Today, though, is the first time weāve done something besides sit in your little apartment, locked away from the world. Itās just a walk, a short ambling stroll to and from the coffee shop a few blocks down from your house, but it feels like itās bigger than that; more significant. This is what normal people do. They go get coffee on weekend mornings, basking in spring sunshine. Itās bright, the sky an endless sea of blue. Itās the kind of day that makes you squint, makes you want to tug your jacket off even though itās still 50 degrees. Itās beautiful. And it feels good, you walking up the sidewalk next to me, past all these pretty old mansions. Theyāre full of apartments now, quirky old buildings full of students and poor families, artists and couples. I like it here. You adjust your grip on your caramel mocha, watching the steam rise into the air. Itās sugary-sweet and rich, the exact opposite of the Americano Iām holding. You wonder if I ever thought about that contrast; if I noticed it the way you had when weād placed our orders. Itās such a classic Nico thing to do, to order the blackest, bitterest stuff on the menu, as if Iām doing penance for something. You wonder if I think about those things. If itās always in the back of my mind, all the contrasts between us. Maybe Iām right about us not always talking, because we havenāt said a word about how fat youāve gotten, not since that first day. Itās just been the elephant in the room. The thing that you canāt talk about. The thing that I also canāt stop thinking about. Like now, as weāre climbing the three flights of stairs to your apartment. I canāt stop thinking about the way your cheeks are probably flushed with the effort of it, the way your breath is a little short, the way your heavy belly touches your thighs with each step, turning your gait into something perilously close to a waddle, although you studiously avoid even thinking that word. You donāt always feel as fat as you are, but climbing the stairs is always a swift reminder. Itās hard not to realize youāre fat when your bellyās brushing your thighs. I, meanwhile, am practically skipping beside you, like itās taking all of my restraint to slow my steps and stay next to you instead of bounding ahead. When we get to your little balcony, you pause a minute to catch your breath, looking down at yourself, the way your sweater clings to your tummy; the way your tummy sticks out between the two sides of your jacket that havenāt met since last fall. In contrast, I look like I could sprint another twenty flights without breaking a sweat, and my jacket is neatly zipped to my chin. (pt. 2) (sorry for the wait, Iāve been celebrating my bday) (the next post youāll see of me, Iāll have black hair)
2023-04-02 12:54:19 +0000 UTC View Post
Your apartment is on the third floor of a Victorian mansion,..
Your apartment is on the third floor of a Victorian mansion, a gorgeous old house judiciously cut up and turned into little apartments. Narrow flights of stairs have been attached to the back of the house, a zig-zag of white-washed steps leading up to what had once been a grand balcony, and is now apparently your front porch. Thereās a little charcoal grill and a snow shovel propped up beside the door, and it makes my heart clench with an absurd fondness. Look at your house. Look at your domesticity. Iām nervous, when I knock on the door. I donāt want you to feel overwhelmed, or frustrated, or angry with me. I should have let you know I was coming. After all, itās been a few years. I even have your phone number. I could have called. Why didnāt I call? Thereās no answer for a few long minutes, even after I knock a second time, and then again a third time. Then, just slightly, the blinds in the window move. āHey,ā I say, clearing my throat awkwardly and feeling sort of stupid, speaking to a closed door. āIāIām sorry to surprise you, but Iām freezing my ass off out here.ā Thereās the sound of footsteps, and then nothing. I wonder, briefly, if I have the address wrong. Then I wonder if youāre just going to ignore me; just refuse to open the door. I open my mouth, not sure what Iām going to say but determined to say something, when your voice, familiar and comforting as an old t-shirt, drifts through the door. āGoddamn it, Nico.ā āGood to see you, too,ā I say sarcastically. āWhat a warm welcome. This feels great, standing on your fucking porch in front of a closed door andāā The door swings open, and I immediately shut my mouth. And I let it fall open again. And shut it again. āHoly shit,ā I blurt out. You areāwell. Thereās no tactful way to say it, except that you are fucking huge. And not like, āOh, I see youāre taking steroids and youāre unnaturally muscle-yā huge. Like āWow, I think you doubled in size and swallowed a personā huge. You are frozen in the doorway, neither telling me to leave nor inviting me in. Youāre just standing there, very very still. I think wildly that if you hadnāt spoken before youād opened the door, Iām not sure you would be recognizable. Thatās how much weight youāve gained. Your features are blurred; your high cheekbones buried under pouches of chub. Your jawline, never razor-sharp even when you were skinny, is completely gone now, invisible beneath a double chin thatās threatening to triple. Youāre wide, filling the entire doorway. Your belly is enormous, almost comical, and I feel absurdly, crazily guilty for dropping my eyes to your swollen midsection, but Iām completely unable to keep from looking. I inhale, bringing my gaze back up to your face, looking you in the eye. And there, thatās something recognizable; a blush spread across your cherub face as you look away. āIām sorry. I should have called, huh?ā I say, because Iām not sure what else Iām supposed to say. Whatās the protocol here? Dear Abby, the man I love and havenāt seen in years blew up like a fucking balloon. What should I do? āIt would have been nice to have some warning,ā You say mildly, and before I can stop myself, i nod in agreement. āYeah, a heads up would have been useful,ā I say, wishing I could swallow the words as soon as they fall out of my mouth. āI needed to see you, I guess.ā You just flush. āCome in, I guess, you pushy shit.ā You move out from where youāre standing in the doorway and I canāt help but imagine that one day Iāll make it hard for you to fit. (pt 1) - note: i may end up writing less in April because thatās a busy month for me + iāll be 20 and celebrating. I will, however, keep posting my normal content. thanks for your patience and understanding!!!! :)
2023-03-24 15:43:09 +0000 UTC View PostHey guys! Iāve been pretty busy lately, so I havenāt written..
Hey guys! Iāve been pretty busy lately, so I havenāt written anything new yet. Please enjoy these while you wait and Iāll have a new story uploaded with the next set I post! Thank you :)
2023-03-21 17:26:16 +0000 UTC View Postimagine me feeding you š imagine how big I could make you š
imagine me feeding you š imagine how big I could make you š
2023-03-17 18:46:33 +0000 UTC View PostMy hands are shaking as I reach for the first dumpling and b..
My hands are shaking as I reach for the first dumpling and bring it to your parted lips. You grab my hand and force the dumpling in with one bite, chewing quickly. āCmon, Nico, why are you so nervous?ā You ask while grabbing a second dumpling and popping it into your mouth. I sit on the question for a moment and ponder it, then answer, āI never thought Iād get to do this. I am having trouble knowing whether or not you really want this.ā You grab my face and hold it in your hands. āIf I didnāt want this we, wouldnāt be doing this right now. A king is supposed to be fat, and one day Iām supposed to be a king. Plus, I need to train my appetite. Lady Heidi of Riverside keeps sending me food and Iāve been struggling to finish it, which isnāt like me. So, I think I need help.ā You snake your hand up my shirt and feel my flat tummy and I shudder out a breath. I nod and trust in what you are telling me. I reach for another dumpling and feed it to you. You chew it quickly and demand, āFaster. If you want me to finish all of these, you need to speed up.ā I nod and pick up the pace, now feeding you two at a time. You moan in ecstasy as you continue to eat and I am practically drooling from the sight: you, sprawled out beneath me, one hand rubbing your growing gut and the other placed on my hip, growing impatient and reaching for another dumpling. You grab one and eat it eagerly, chewing fast in preparation to eat the next one from my patient hand. You are halfway through the tray when you begin to feel your own erection. āHelp me with this?ā You ask me, pointing to your lap. Your fingers are tapping against the slope of your round belly. I smirk and move the dumplings to the table to get better grounding as I reach for your clothes. āTake these off. Itāll help you make room.ā I insist, and you lift your hips with a groan. I pull off your pants and watch as your protruding gut falls into your lap. I canāt help but reach forward to grab the princeās soft, doughy stomach. You shake with pleasure from the sensation of my cold fingertips on your warm, taut belly. I pick up another dumpling and feed it to you. āIāll help you with that,ā I nod down to your cock, āwhen you finish your food.ā My sudden surge of dominance causes your cock to throb uncontrollably and you throw your head back with a growl. āTell me what you want me to do and Iāll do it.ā You plead eagerly. āPlease, Nico, keep feeding me.ā You moan. I feed you another dumpling, and then another, and you eat each one obediently. Your hands are running across your aching belly frantically by the time you reach the final dumpling. I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead and pick up the dumpling, but then decide to set it back down. I reach out my hand and place it firmly on your stuffed belly, eliciting a moan out of you. āMore. I need more.ā The prince pants. My eyes turn into slivers and a devious smile spreads across my face. āThatās my good boy.ā I poke you in the tight, stuffed middle of your gut and you whine high and loud. āYouāre such a greedy little pig. So used to always getting what you want.ā I tease with a flame rising in my eyes. āI know you want me to touch your cock, donāt you?ā āP-Please. And I want you t-to feed me even more. Make me your greedy king.ā You shudder, beginning to grind into your palm beneath the table. I grin and disappear down the hallway and into the kitchen. You let out a sharp moan and rub your hand over your pulsating cock and then over your big, fat belly. You pant and wonder how exactly you think youāll be able to fit more food in there. If anyone will find a way, though, itās Nico. (pt 2)
2023-03-14 00:30:18 +0000 UTC View Post