#I’ve gained weight. but only in my hips and thighs

[lesbiansanemi]

I think… I have figured out the reason I never get gendered as a guy anymore and it’s making me have…. A lot of really complex feelings

[f0point5]

Lando Norris x reader Masterlist

Only rumours ‘bout my hips and thighs - News of Y/N and Lando’s budding “relationship” hits F1 news

It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got - Rumours about Lando and Y/N heat up. Meanwhile, Y/N is skeptical about Lando’s friendly overtures

You will take the long way - Y/N discusses her secret, and Lando lets out his frustrations with Max

At least I’m trying - Y/N catches up on the new season of Drive to Survive, while Lando makes another effort to befriend her

Gain the weight of you - Y/N ties up loose ends as the stage is set for the relationship to go public

You told your family for a reason - Y/N arrives in Bahrain, and the deception deepens

The jury’s out - Y/N meets more people in Lando’s life with mixed reception, and attends her first race

(They) find something to wrap (their) noose around - Lando is subject to some controversy, which means Y/N has to step in, whole fighting to stay in her comfort zone

You don’t know how nice that is…but I do - Y/N attends the race where she makes an immediate connection with Oscar, and Lando makes an ill-advised move to impress her

You don’t feel pretty, you just feel used - Y/N finds herself in high demand, much to her dismay, as she heads to Australia for the next race

I’m feeling like I don’t know you - Lando’s feelings about how Y/N is spending her time in Australia bubble over

New to town with a made up name - Y/N does a Q&A

Every time you shine, I’ll shine for you - Lando secures an amazing result at the Australian Grand Prix, while neitzens discuss his new relationship.

That old familiar body ache - Y/N is forced to get back to work, which includes seeing Lando

The rust that grew between telephones - Y/N’s campaign debuts while she and Lando are in Japan. Lando searches for answers for what happened in Monaco

It’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound - Y/N skips the Japanese Grand Prix and puts her job in jeopardy

Did you see the photos? No, I didn’t but thanks though - Y/N is forced to defend Lando from gossip, while her position as his girlfriend remains precarious

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you aware - Max F weighs in on Lando’s troubles, while Lando finds he and Y/N have a common interest

Lights, camera, bitch smile - Y/N puts on an impressive show at the Grand Prix. Lando’s jealousy gets the better of him, leading to a frank conversation

Don’t you worry your pretty little mind - Y/N reaches out to Lando when he is the subject of online trolling to offer support

I did my best to lay to rest - Y/N and Lando get closer in Miami, but the increased publicity may lead to things being unearthed that Y/N would like to stay buried

I was grinning like (he’s) winning - Y/N watches Lando become a Grand Prix winner

You can’t talk to me when I’m like this - Lando wins the Miami Grand Prix, but a misstep means Y/N is not part of the celebration

I never grew up, it’s getting so old - Oscar steps in to help when Y/N and Lando aren’t speaking

Can (he) see right through me? (I) see right through me - Y/N takes Oscar’s advice and opens up to Lando

Our secret moments, in a crowded room - Y/N and Lando spend time together while Monaco hosts the Historic Grand Prix

They’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down - Fans speculate when Y/N and Lando are not seen together and she misses the Imola Grand Prix

It’s nice to have a friend - Y/N has a busy week in the South of France, and Lando tries to be supportive as the two plan to keep the rouse going when his family comes to town

I spy with my tired little eye - Y/N attends the Monaco Grand Prix

We might just get away with it - Y/N remains in Monaco with Lando to keep up pretences

Telling me to punish you for things you never did - Lando arrives alone in Canada while the internet finds out Y/N has been spending time with Freddie…and so does Lando.

Love’s a show, but I would die for you in secret - Father’s Day brings Y/N closer to understanding Lando, and letting Lando understand her

Braced myself for the goodbye, (…) but you took me by surprise - Y/N attends the Spanish Grand Prix. After a disappointment, Lando receives some tough love

But God, I love the English - Y/N accompanies Lando to the UK, and he supports her as the quadrant collaboration goes live

[forcedtogrow]

Addressing Pre-T, Pre-transition Anons

I’m getting quite a few asks from pre-T guys about how much you can change your body pre-T, what exercises to do, how to fix body fat redistribution etc. and it has gotten to be a little too much so im making a blanket post regarding this topic. This post is MY VIEWS AND LIMITS. I am not trying to bully anyone, this is a kink blog for fun and I am not a teacher/doctor/counselor/therapist or parent. I am a fun big brother lmao.

1. There’s only so much you can change your body pre-T, and it’s totally dependent on your genetics and dedication to lifting/gaining muscle. Some guys are lucky and can easily pass without T by just working out, I wasn’t one of them but I’ve seen a handful of guys that did that before T. Even then, some of those guys needed T to get rid of an hourglass/pear shape.

2. You can’t spot lose body fat in hips/thighs/ass. You’d need to lose body fat everywhere, but pre-T your body is most likely to hold onto lower body fat because biology wants those fat reserves to make babies. It’s gross and dysphoria inducing but it’s true.

3. It’s worth it to work out pre-T, especially lifting, to create a solid base to work from. If you already have that you’ll grow so fast on T it’ll feel like magic. I won’t lie that it’s frustrating and awful, because I’ve been there and it feels like spinning the pedals on a bike without moving, but it does pay off.

4. Stay balanced with your diet and don’t force yourself into a crazy calorie deficit. It might not be the time to bulk if you feel like your body is reserving most energy as fat (could be your genetics or activity level), but maintaining a baseline that’s Not underweight is a good start.

5. I’m not in a place to tell you to bulk or cut, especially if I don’t know your height/weight/age/activity level. I am not a doctor or dietician and can only say what works for me and people I know.

6. Don’t just focus on one part of the body, do a full push/pull/legs routine at the very least. Like this: https://www.aston.ac.uk/sport/news/tips/fitness-exercise/push-pull-legs or this for a 6 day split: https://www.muscleandstrength.com/workouts/6-day-powerbuilding-split-meal-plan

You need to build full body strength, and more leg muscle can actually masculinize your body and make your hips more boxy.

7. If you can’t transition medically/socially for whatever reason your main focus should be getting out of that situation. This is going to sound harsh but I know many trans people who risked a lot, some trans femme friends that literally risked their lives, and you have to decide what’s important to you. I’m being real because you will only regret waiting—there is no replacement for transition, there is no joy like transition, there is no pain great enough to negate the many many benefits of transition.

I don’t want to get messages like “what if it’s illegal where I live!” That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s sucks, but you either transition or you don’t, and if you don’t that’s up to you, but I cannot assist with that decision. I gave up a lot to transition and waited several years to start hrt for reasons too personal to disclose. I ruined relationships with family among other things, so please do NOT ask me for advice on this because I will not be coddling/sweet. Being a man is hard and messy and a sacrifice.

8. I will tell you what I eat and give general advice of bulking/eating but I will not make a meal plan for you. Every body has different needs that only you and a dietitian can work through, I’m not a licensed professional and don’t want anyone to take what I eat as the only way to eat.

9. If you cannot transition because you are a minor stay off my blog. Sorry!!

[epigstolary]

Big Deal

TW: Medical treatment and discussion of health issues.

Look, I get that you think I need to lose weight. I’m not oblivious. I’ve seen the worried looks you think you’re hiding when I ask you to bring me a fourth portion, or when you have to tell me you couldn’t find the shirt I wanted in a 9xl. I get it. But I really do think you’re making way too big a deal out of it.

Especially when you’re the one who helped me get to this size. I remember a lot of messages from you, back when I was still under 300, about how big you were going to make me, how you didn’t have any limits, how you’d love to see me get immobile and have nothing to do but eat and get even fatter. You pushed more than your fair share of cookies and doughnuts down my throat while you were fondling my growing belly; and you were perfectly happy to explore the rolls and folds spreading over my lap while you were making sure I had chips and soda and plenty of empty calories within reach to grow them even more.

And I’m sure you’ll remember, you certainly didn’t seem to worry about me or my health during my early gains. Where were your objections to me picking up the gainer shake habit, lounging on the couch drinking a two liter of the stuff for an entire weekend? I definitely don’t recall any. In fact, all I remember is how horny you were to see me starting to struggle under my new weight, carrying around a paunch that was hanging lower down my bulging thighs by the day, hauling around a growing ass that was straining my jeans more and more as time went on. I think you even told me how sexy it was when I started getting red-faced doing minor chores around the house, how your chubby little piggy didn’t need to worry about getting out of breath — that all it meant was I’d been doing my job of eating and resting very well.

But I could tell you were getting worried once my hips and thighs were too wide, the fat covering them too thick and bulbous, to fit in the passenger side of your car anymore. Once it started to become genuinely hard to find any clothes I could literally fit into, let alone look good in. Suddenly, there was a lot less food around a lot more of the time, and a lot less talk about how wonderful I’d be as an immobile blob. Instead, you started talking about going on walks together — walks! As if you were actually interested in my fitness all of a sudden. And as if there’s any chance of me hauling these hundreds of pounds of blubber and cellulite, this belly hanging down to my knees and crowned with two plump tits, any further than the driveway. We both know I’m not walking anywhere — waddling, more like — unless there’s a buffet at the end of the trip. Someplace I can settle down on a couple chairs, pull down my elastic waistband to give my belly overhang some desperately needed relief, and have you bring me about ten plates of food so I’ll have the energy to haul all this thickness back to the car.

And yeah, I know what the doctor said. I need to exercise more and eat way less. “All the weight puts you at high risk. Heart attack and stroke is only a matter of time. Blah, blah, blah.” He’s been saying all that since I was 250 and he wanted me to get a gastric bypass to cure my sinus infection. You know these doctors are all fatphobic and won’t even think about anything else once someone’s the least bit overweight. You never hear him talking about how my bad cholesterol hasn’t gone up hardly at all since I broke 400, or how my blood sugar is still barely prediabetic, do you? Nah, he just can’t stand to see a fat person prove him wrong by not being on the verge of having a coronary. He’s probably disappointed that I’m still able to get around at this size, instead of stuck in a hospital bed getting lectured by someone like him about my poor choices every day.

What’s the matter, are you uncomfortable now that you have to deal with the reality of a partner who’s over 700 pounds? Now that you have to grasp my forearm flab and heave backward to help me get up any time I need to get out of bed or off the couch? Does it make you self-conscious that whenever I walk or move or stand, I can’t help but breathe in raspy heaves with the effort of maneuvering more bulk than most people could ever hope to carry? That I’m going to make us the center of attention wherever we go? That the same people judging me for going out in public with fat hanging out of the biggest clothes I can find are probably judging you too for allowing it to happen? If I can handle strangers staring at me and whispering to each other about how a person like me can “let themselves go” so badly, you can sure as hell suck it up and help me get around.

So skip the lectures, the hand-wringing, and the bullshit about being concerned about my health that’s probably in the back of your mind. This is what you signed up for. You wanted a fuckable lardpile of your very own to keep blowing up, and that’s exactly what you got. Sorry it’s not the consequence-free orgy that I guess you were expecting, but it takes a little work to maintain a body like mine. And anyway, deep down under whatever angst you have about our situation, I know you still want me ballooning over a half-ton. Splayed out in bed, arms and legs too swollen with fat to move, belly flowing out past my knees, anchored in place by a massive ass with nothing to do but gorge and try to keep myself entertained. You can’t help wanting it, can you? Whatever worries you may have about where things are going with me — I can see your eyes light up just at the thought of it.

Now, how about you clean up those McDonald’s wrappers, get me a refill of my Coke, and pop a couple of those frozen pizzas in the oven so I can get started on lunch. Sound good? And bring me a couple aspirin, too — I think I pulled the muscle in my shoulder again…

[coyfsh]

Whole again

Chapter Four: Popsicles

link to all chapters:

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warning: swearing, self degradation, depression

15+

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Chapter Four

Popsicles 

      That night you found it hard to sleep. You lied awake, resting a hand on your stomach the way he had. You felt warm. It was a new feeling. One you couldn’t really understand. His hand was so big compared to yours. They were rough, but were gentle with you. You wanted him to touch you again. 

      You sighed and finally let your thoughts come to a rest. You buried your face comfortably into your pillow and started to drift off. Before you could fully fall asleep, a realization popped into your head. “HE SAW ME IN MY PAJAMA SHORTS-“ your face heated with embarrassment.

      You hated that. You hated showing skin. You had a few stretch marks on your inner thighs and hips. It wasn’t much, and was hardly noticeable, but it still bothered you. You felt imperfect. Plus, you hated the way your thighs looked. In your eyes, they were fat and ugly. 

      Other girls you saw had such slender thighs. You always took notice in how yours rubbed together when you walked, and theirs didn’t. It felt like inconvenience. You hated your stubby legs. You weren’t normal and slender, you were short. Sure you were pretty skinny, but it wasn’t good enough. Being short meant you couldn’t eat a lot without gaining weight.

       You needed to be perfect. You needed to be beautiful. But you never felt like you were. You groaned as you remembered you weren’t empty anymore, now filled with cookies. It was only a few, but it made you feel gross and greedy. You fell asleep mentally tearing yourself apart. 

       It wasn’t until the early afternoon that you woke up, stretching your sleep off. You slumped off of your bed and threw on sweatpants and a hoodie before heading downstairs to see if anything was going on. Most of the Grunts had left to go muck around and take part in Shenanigans, or whatever they do. You sighed, realizing there wasn’t anything to do, and turned around to go back to bed again. You almost made it to the stairs before you were stopped by a familiar face. 

          “Come walk with me.” Guzma waved you over to him as he started heading for the door. You didn’t really question him. What else were you going to do today? Plus, you enjoyed the time you spent with him. 

        As you jogged over to him, he opened the door. To your surprise, Guzma let you go first, holding the door open for you. It may have been a small gesture, but it made you feel warm. The both of you headed for the beach near Po Town, where Guzma normally went to blow off steam. You wondered what he wanted to talk to you about. Your thoughts were interrupted as Guzma let out his Golisopod. 

      The large bug clicked happily, glad it had been let out of its Poke-ball. Guzma patted it on the head, and shewed it off to go do its own thing. You thought about your own Pokemon, and felt kinda bad. You weren’t the best at taking them outside everyday. You loved them, of course you did. Sometimes it felt like it was just you and them against the world. And well, 

Sometimes it felt the world was against you. 

       You reached your hand into your pocket and let out your Gibble. Guzma looked over at it, a bit surprised. “You got a Gibble? Since when?” You looked over at your Gibble, squatting to pet it on the head. It smiled widely and coed. “I’ve had this little Goober ever since I was a kid.” Guzma chuckled. “Really? How come he isn’t all evolved n’ shit?” 

          You felt bad. You didn’t really have a good explanation for why, you just didn’t train a lot. When you first came to Alola when you were 16, you got a Litten, which you named Sparky. Sparky was a Toracat now, and you also had scooped up a Mimikyu you named Mimsy a few weeks ago. You gave the island trials a try, and did get a few Z Crystal’s, but after a while you didn’t see the point in it anymore. 

        Were you even good enough to become the Champion? You didn’t see the point in training when you knew you’d always be the same sad little girl you always were. The same kid that ran away from home only a few years ago. You tried to push everything to the back of your mind as you came up with a response. “I never really saw the point in training, for me at least. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” 

           Guzma scoffed. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Of course ya gotta train! You got a rockin’ Pokémon there with so much raw potential!” You looked back over at Guzma. “I ain’t gonna be the Boss of a buncha slackers and squibs, now am I? Show some respect ta ya boi!” Even though he sounded mean, you could tell he was being sincere and honest. It was strangely motivating.

       “What’s gonna happen if some goody-two-shoes kid comes up on ya terf? Huh?” He waited for a response. “Battle em?” “Ya damn right ya gonna battle em!” You almost laughed. Even though he was serious, you still thought he was being a bit goofy. “Whats with the smilin softie? Somethin funny?” He got up in your face, cocking an eyebrow. He smirked a little, now intentionally trying to get you to laugh. 

      You giggled softly, playfully pushing him away from your face. He gasped dramatically. “Ya gonna disrespect ya boi like dat?! Ah hell nah!” He took a few steps back and smiled widely. “We battlin’ this out!” You blinked. Guzma was challenging you? “I.. I dunno.” He raised an eyebrow. “Wadya mean ya don’t know?” “I mean, why would I get in a battle I know I’m gonna loose?” He scoffed. “The hell you are with that mindset! C’mon girl ya gotta give me somethin! Ya got my blood pumping and everythin’, don’t just leave me hangin!” 

      Something about the way he said that so naturally felt so warm to you. You knew that everything he said was honest. He was always so blunt. You sighed, deciding to give it a shot. Who were you to deny a battle with the boss? And plus, 

You wanted to deserve the kindness he gave you. 

     “Okay. Let’s battle!” He smiled from ear to ear, as he noted the determination in your voice. “You wanna see what destruction looks like? Here it is! In human form!” You smiled, Guzma was going to give it his all. And so were you. 

       Guzma’s Pokémon were a lot stronger than yours, plus he had 3 more than you did. You hadn’t had a battle like that in a long time. And as expected, you lost. As you withdrew your last Pokémon, you couldn’t help but think “My all isn’t good enough.” 

      Guzma, seeing you a bit down, walked over and patted you on the back. “Don’t sweat it Softie, it takes a real type of trainer to beat me in a Pokémon battle.” He ruffled your hair. “All the more reason to train, right?” You nodded and looked over at him. “Let’s get ya’ to a poke-center. I dunno about you, but I could use it. You put up one hell of a fight.” That made you feel a bit better. 

    “Hey, do you have one of those Charizard flight license or whatever their called?” You looked over at him. “Yeah. Do you want to use it?” He nodded. “It’s hot as hell today, and I don’t feel like walkin’ all the way there.” You thought for a moment. “Isn’t there a poke-center in Po town?” He crossed his arms. “I ain’t paying’ shit for that stupid electricity bill those two grunts refuse to pay.” You chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I guess your right.” “Of course I’m right.” He smiled cockily. 

     You pulled out your Roto phone and called for a Charzard. “Do you know how to fly them?” He thought for a moment. “It’s been a hot minute, but I don’t trust myself enough to fly those things.” You nodded. “Makes sense.” He fake scoffed, “the hells that s’posed to mean?!” You held back a giggle. “Look, all I’m saying is that I wouldn’t trust you to fly a charizard either.” You smirked. 

“Ah that’s it.” 

     Before you could act he had his hands around your waist. You froze, and looked up at him. You looked up into his eyes, and the world seemed to slow. He wasn’t looking back at you, but focusing on the hands slipping around your smaller body. He had a mischievous look on his face. You felt like you were floating, like your feet were no longer touching the ground.

Then you realized you weren’t just imagining it.

     He threw you over his shoulder and chuckled roughly to himself. “Hey! Put me down!” You held back a giggle and kicked your legs. He ignored you. “I might have ta do this more often.” You tried to squirm your alway out, he just held onto you tighter. You punched his back softly. “This way you ain’t sassin’ off to me.” 

   After a few minutes the Charizard came into few, flying towards you. He was still holding you over his shoulder when it caught his eye. “Ey, the Charizard is here.” You squirmed again. “Put me down!” “Nope.” “Pleeeaaase!” “Not until you promise ta respect ya boi!” You went limp, and groaned. “But lying is wrong!” “Oh you little-“

     He started to gently poke and prod at your side, which caused you to laugh. “H-hey! O-okay okay I’m sorry!” “Ya damn right ya sorry!” He kept jabbing at your side for a few moments before he finally put you down. You softly punched him in the arm. “Jerk.” You said playfully. 

     When the Charizard landed Guzma helped you hop onto it, sliding onto the saddle. He hopped on behind you. As soon as the Charizard lifted off the ground you felt his arms slipping around your waist. The wind whisked through your hair. You knew it was so he wouldn’t fall off, but you couldn’t help but feel warm when he held you. You didn’t want this moment to end.

    When you landed after what felt like an eternity, Guzma was the first to hop off. He helped you down and the Charizard flew away, after you gave it a poke-bean as gratitude. 

   “Hey.. uh, Lu?” His hands were in his pockets as he looked down at the ground. “Yeah?” “Could you.. heal my Pokémon for me?” You understood why he didn’t want to do it himself. Some stores refused to let him in because he was the Boss of team skull. You nodded, and he carefully handed you his team, and you headed inside. 

    After healing all of Guzma’s Pokémon, and your own, you were about to head back outside. You stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye. It was a small cooler by the door with a small note that read “take one please :)” you opened it to see it was full of frozen treats. You rummaged around, you settled on a fruit popsicle. You headed outside after ripping off the wrapper and sticking it in your pocket. 

    Guzma was leaning against the wall around the corner. You walked over to him and handed him the popsicle. His eyes widened a bit as he took it, along with his Pokémon. “W-woah.” He looked over at you. “You don’t have one.” You shrugged. “The freezer said to only take one, and you won the battle.” He was glad, but looked mildly disappointed. “You coulda just took two.” You shrugged again. “I’m not that type of person.” 

      He took a bite of the popsicle, ripping half of it off and chewing it into pieces in his mouth, seemingly unaffected by the cold. He then handed the rest to you. You didn’t take it at first, but he insisted. “Your a good person Lu. I don’t know why you mess around with a guy like me. Let alone be a part of Team skull. Your a real softie.” 

“Your not as tough as you think Guz.” You looked at him sympathetically.

“How so?” 

You leaned against the wall, next to him. 

“You care.” 

He thought for a moment. “Well, your not as soft as you think.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“Your a real pain in my ass, that’s what!” He smiled and ruffled your hair.

You laughed. 

“Seriously tho, your a force to be reckoned with Softie. I hope you know that.” 

“I hope so too.”

[thisismysecondrodeo]

thinking about ted worshipping y/n’s body

AN: It feels like it’s been SO long since I’ve written anything for Ted mostly because I’m so obsessed with Season 3 lol but you can’t keep me away for long!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Body Worship, Body Image, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Fluff and Smut, graphic descriptions of p-in-v intercourse

Part 2 | Fic Masterlist

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You had been avoiding Ted. Not because of anything he did or anything you did, but because if you hung out with your boyfriend you’d want to kiss him, and kissing would lead to more, and more meant…being naked. 

It was the relationship weight, you told yourself, which wasn’t untrue but you and your body had always had a somewhat contentious relationship. In the 6 months you’d been dating Ted, you’d managed to set those concerns aside, but Ted was also a stress-baker and a pub frequenter; those became things you loved to do together. You didn’t want to give them up, but looking at yourself in the mirror had you texting Ted you couldn’t come over and going to the gym instead. 

It wasn’t that you NEVER saw Ted anymore, but it didn’t escape his notice when you ordered salads and stopped stealing chips and shrugged out of his grasp when his hands neared your hips. Especially tonight, as the two of you reclined on the couch and you pushed around the single slice of pizza on your plate. 

“Everything alright, darlin’,” Ted asked when you moved his hand from your thigh to weave your fingers together, thinking you were being slick. It could have been a general question, but at that moment you knew that he knew. You sighed. 

“It’s not you Ted, I hope you know that. I guess I’m just feeling a little unattractive lately because I’ve gained some weight, but it’s not like I’ve ever been small you know, but I still feel like—”

You were rambling, trying to explain how you were feeling and you could feel Ted next to you wanting to interject but restraining himself. “It gets…harder to be touched when I don’t feel at home in my skin, ya know?” 

Ted pressed a kiss to your temple and sat your plates on the coffee table, so he could wrap you closer to him. 

“Well, sweetie, I’m not going to try to convince you to see yourself the way I do, because I know how frustrating it is to have somebody tellin’ ya you’re wrong. Even if you’re wrong.” You chuckled against him, your eyes just a little wet at realizing how deeply he understood you. “But I’d love to show you how I feel about your body, if you’re amenable to that,” Ted's voice had lowered in an instant, and you looked up at him to find his eyes dark and trained on you. There was the expected anxiety in your chest at the idea of letting Ted undress you, but you were surprised to find it was matched by arousal when you saw him looking at you like he wanted to consume you. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice small, but sure. “Show me.” 

Ted led you eagerly to the bedroom but slowed down once he arrived, leaving you at the foot of the bed. “Ted, we never—what about Mrs. Shipley?” When you stayed at Ted’s place you usually hooked up on the couch—between your whimpers and moans and his headboard scraping loudly against the wall, it took her only minutes to start slamming her broom into the floor. 

“Well, you better hush your butt then, huh,” Ted joked as he stepped away from you. He had a full-length mirror in the corner that you avoided like the plague, but you were surprised when you realized he was turning it around. And then he walked over to the dresser and draped a blanket over that mirror too. When he returned to you, he smiled softly and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt. "My eyes only," he explained, kissing your neck and you whimpered at how much you’d missed his touch and affection, a hot wave of shame rising to your cheeks in realizing what you’d kept yourself from for no reason. Your hands found the back of his hair and you tugged him back up to your lips as your shirt fell open, his hands smoothing along your sides and pressing you tightly to him. 

“You don’t have to say anything, baby,” Ted whispered gently in your ear, “but I’m going to tell you that I love your body. Exactly as it is, right this second.” He slid the shirt from your shoulders, punctuating each sentence with fresh kisses on exposed skin. “And I loved it yesterday.” A kiss to your sternum, his deft fingers unlatching your bra. “And I’ll love it tomorrow.” His thumbs pressed gently into your hips as he kissed one breast and then the other, just grazing your nipples. The wetness between your legs was only increasing, even at Ted's barely there caresses.  

Ted made his way to your waistband, thumbing open your fly and sliding off your pants and underwear until you were finally naked, his lips and tongue never far from your skin, no limb or feature left unpraised. Ted encouraged you down onto the bed before stripping down to his boxers and laying next to you. You couldn’t help but cross your arms, trying to hide the areas you were more insecure about. Ted didn’t say anything, or move your hands, just maneuvered around them, making his way down your body to your core, his mustache tickling around your inner thighs. He eased your legs a little further apart, taking a moment just to look, his hands rubbing gentle circles against the outside of your thighs. 

“You know one of my favorite things about your body? How responsive it is. Gosh darlin’, you’re already so wet for me.” As if proving your point, his warm breath over your clit made your skin break out in goosebumps. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please, Ted,” you sighed and he wasted no time doing so, sliding first one finger, then two, then his tongue over your wet center. The pressure was perfect and sent you scrambling for something to hold, your hands uncrossing from your body to fist into the sheets. “Fuck, Teddy, I—.” You didn’t know what you were going to say but you knew you wanted more. You wanted him to never stop. 

“What is it darlin’? What do you want?” 

“Your fingers,” you whined, “I want your fingers in me, please Ted.” 

One of Ted’s long fingers slid in easily and he quickly added another. You were so incredibly close you couldn’t help but grind down against him. Your back arched against the bed and you realized you were chanting his name as an orgasm bubbled up inside of you. “Fuck, Ted, I’m- Shit!” You came hard and fast, with no chance of catching the sounds Ted had brought out of you. 

When your breathing evened out, Ted was next to you again, his long capable hands gentle against your sides. You looked at him with a small grateful smile, “I love you, Ted. Thanks for understanding. And for showing me.” Ted kissed you deeply, his hand against the side of your face pulling you in and tilting your head to slot his lips against yours.  

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” Ted said breathlessly when he finally broke away. “And I’ll keep believin’ that until you do.” 

You wanted to say something thoughtful or insightful, but you were lost for words. Instead, you snaked your hand between your bodies to find him hard and wanting. But to your surprise, Ted shifted out of your grasp. “No, baby this was about you. We don’t have to—” 

“Well, what if I want you to show me some more,” you giggled mischievously, rolling into his chest and tracing your hands along his broad shoulders. Ted beamed. This, the flirty banter and directness, felt more like you; not the hiding and avoiding you were doing earlier. 

“Well, then what can I say besides yes ma’am.” 

Ted rolled both of you over and you helped slide his boxers down, revealing his hard length. You stroked him a few times as his tongue tangled with yours, but he took over from you, gliding the head of himself through your slick heat. You gasped when he brushed your clit and Ted grinned. “This is still about you darlin’. I want to make you feel good. I want to remind you of all the wonderful things about this here body.” 

“God Ted, you’re so good to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut but as Ted nudged toward your entrance, you opened them again and found nothing but adoration in his gaze as he eased into you. Your mouth fell open and Ted groaned at the warm heat of you around him. 

“I’ll always be good to you,” Ted punctuated the sentiment with slow, deep thrusts, “for as long as you’ll let me. Whatever you want from me, you get.” 

“Faster, Ted, I want faster,” you begged, “I want you. So much. You make me feel so fucking good.” 

Ted’s hips snapped into yours and you tried in vain to keep your moans contained, biting the back of his hand, his bottom lip, his shoulder—and you had to redouble your efforts when leaned to the side so he could bring his thumb to your clit. “Come for me again beautiful, you can do it.” Ted’s voice was husky in your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine that swiftly turned into an orgasm, biting down hard into Ted’s shoulder as you clenched rhythmically against him and he stuttered into his own release. 

Rolling to his side, Ted pulled you against him, playfully planting kisses all over your face, just as Mrs. Shipley got going with the broom. The two of you looked at each other and giggled. 

“Next time you can show me how you feel at my place,” you chuckled and Ted pulled away to look at you. 

"Oh, next time, huh,” Ted smirked. Both of you knew that your body issues weren’t going away from one night of (albeit, very good) sex, but you were open to working on it, especially when working on it was downright fun. 

Part 2 ->

[swagcoolcat]

!! Transfem Jeremy posting !!

So, I’ve always had the headcanon that Jeremy has really high metabolism which makes it next to impossible to gain significant amounts of weight. I’ve also always had the headcanon that this gives Jeremy major body issues, always feeling too lanky, too bony, too tall, too everything.

Now, Cassidy (my name for transfem Jeremy for any of those new to this au) I feel would have these same issues, but it ties in heavily with her gender dysphoria. If only her features were… softer. Even before she realizes her gender identity, she can’t help but feel like she doesn’t look right in her own skin. She desperately wants to gain weight, desperately wants softer hips, softer thighs, a softer stomach. Everything.

Eventually, in her early to mid twenties, Cassidy starts taking estrogen, and the changes to her body are subtle, but they’re definitely there. When she first notices that she’s grown boobs, she sprints in to show Seymour (transmasc Christine again for those who are new to this au) with the biggest grin on her face. And that’s not the best part. Estrogen redistrobutes fat, but it can also make it easier to gain weight. So, over time, she starts to gain weight. She doesn’t notice it right away, but one morning, she’s getting dressed, and she sees herself in the mirror.

And her first thought upon seeing herself is just… “There I am.”

For the first time, she doesn’t see her head on a stranger’s body. She sees herself.

[bloggeridk]

I ain’t never seen no good writtin from mself. Good luck.

I apologize in advance, my dear tumblr users, i really am sorry. I’m at school right now can you believe it? Won’t tell you which grade i’m in, how old i am, note that i am not very good at writing, note that punctuation is LESS than desirable. Forgive me for how i write and what i’m writing.

Attack Titan(season 1) x You! (have fun?) Also i’ve never posted any story, i don’t really write smut (or at all) so please forgive me.

You just couldn’t stand it, here he was, 15 meters tall, too tall for any person to reasonably have a “crush” on, and here you were, 5’3. A height (which was totally average) way too small to be turned on by this whole 15 meters, sitting right on top of this huge titan, with his hand hold you like a doll, rubbing your crotch across his own, jerking his huge hips up into yours, bruising your legs, leaving your joints sore. This is fucked. This is so fucked up.

”Erennnn..! Please! Wake up..!” You’ve been calling out for at least 2 minutes, begging his body to gain consciousness again, panting out his name. The only reason this was happening is because you make some stupid comment about his titan being hotter than he was when he was a human, which in your defense, you were mostly joking. Mostly. So here you are now, pants rubbing into your clit, your whole body hot pressed against the bulge of his titan. The friction of your thick pants and the weight of his hand rubbing you up and down the length of his cock made the pain all worth it. His titan started to let out rough grunts with each pass of your limp supple body as he dragged you up and down. Your pussy was soaking through your pants, leaving wet streaks across his skin, that evaporated into steam from the temperature. His hips were beginning to thrust up into you, and every so often, a blue-ish vein on his titan cock would run up against your sweet spot, making your legs close in on his thick cock “Ren… please…” Another grunt and his dick twitched, his load shooting against his hot body, the thick milky white spunk almost reaching his fave from the force, his titan looks down at you and a toothy grin spreads across his face, his eyes squinting down at you.

His head fall back with a thump that rumbled the ground below him, his grip on your body loosened, holding you up against his now flaccid, sated cock. Steam rose from behind his neck, and there he was. Eren Jaeger, walking towards you with a small, wet, tent in his pants, that same smirk that his titan had. “Get me off.” Your voice was raspy, hips and thighs sore. “I can do that. If you take back what you said earlier.” His smirk gone, hands in his pocket right next to the body of his titan. No way, he does that and expects me to take back a statement after he cums all over his own titan. Baffling. “Sure. You rubbing me against a cock bigger than me makes me want to take it all back, your titan is definitely not hot. At all. You know what? I hated every moment. Now please get me down.” He smirks and turns away, using his hand to wipe his smile away, and climbs up the steamy body. He helps you unhook the fingers holding you and helps you up. Shit! Your legs are going limp so you sort of fall towards Eren, legs sore from being worked so hard. “…sorry…about your legs..” He hooks an arm under yours and lifts you up, helping you down the almost dissolved body. “Hey Ren?” He looks at you, turning his head to face you, “Hm”

“I’ve been wishing you could fuck me as a titan, and as a human. This whole time. I’m still soaked y’know. Down there.” He looks away, facing his cabin that the both of you were staying in for the week. “I know.” His smile back on his face.

Howdy! Sorry, this is the 2nd story i’ve ever posted, the only “completed” story that i’ve ever published. I’ve always thought Erens attack titan was hot, so i just wanted to see if i could write somethin nasty about him. If you’ve made it this far: THANK YOUUU ❤️ (sorry not good at smut)

[boysbellyrubs]

a little stuffing between the lovely Alistair and Nikau.

a cw for talk of weight gain and a little sexual talk ig. also sorry if the formatting is ass i posted from my phone.

—-

“Ready baby?”

Alistair nodded, staring more at the bottle in Nikau’s hand rather than the man himself. He had been anticipating this all day, an excitement buzzing under his skin.

Nikau smiled at his eager boyfriend, uncapping the lid of the Sprite and positioning himself poised over Alistair’s thighs. He felt Alistair’s hands creep up his back, sitting snugly on the jut of his hips. Alistair was wearing a tighter fitting shirt, one he had outgrown from a few years ago and sweatpants. His hair was loose. They had eaten dinner around an hour ago, wanting to let Alistair’s body start to digest rather than shoving a bunch of bubbles on top of his food.

Alistair leaned forward and took the bottle into his mouth while Nikau tipped it forward. He was gentle to begin, the liquid slowly going down as Alistair swallowed. He tapped Nikau’s back to let him know he needed to breathe.

He threw his head back, took a gasp and let out a belch. He chuckled. “That was a big one.” He patted his belly and leant forward again, guzzling down the lemonade. He was already feeling full from only a quarter of the bottle, and it was a 2L bottle so he still had a long way to go. Nikau stared, enraptured at his boyfriend’s pace. His belly was filling up steadily, the shirt riding up and his waistband getting a little tighter. Nikau so desperately wanted to put his hands on him.

Another tap and Nikau dropped the bottle and held it up. There was only half left. He smiled at Alistair. “You’re drinking this really fast. How’s this belly?” He let his left hand graze the tightest part, the highest part of Alistair’s belly. It was almost revealed, his shirt clinging to his belly button as he indulged. Alistair whined, burped and stared down at his swollen stomach.

“Let’s take a break for a second. I’m full as fuck.” His hands drifted off Nikau and onto his own tummy, cupping the underside. He moaned as rubbed outwards, lifting it off his lap and sloshing the contents inside. He squeezed his softer lower belly. “I’ve really put on weight here, it’s still soft even when I’m stuffed.”

Nikau agreed, “Well you’re not even halfway done, sweetheart. Think you can finish it?” He whispered into Alistair’s ear, pushing down on his belly with his hand. Alistair burped and nodded, trying to push Nikau off his sensitive stomach. “Good. I want your belly nice and round, okay?”

“Okay.”

Nikau sat back up and lifted the bottle back to Alistair’s lips. They both didn’t break eye contact as Alistair opened his mouth to let Nikau push the bottle in before starting to drink again. Nikau watched his belly inflate more, shirt slowly riding up until it was barely staying down. He pulled it up automatically, now staring at the pale flesh of Alistair’s belly. How he loved this.

They hadn’t intentionally been making Alistair gain weight, it had just happened with the two of them having bigger meals and Alistair cleaning up Nikau’s leftovers. They were also indulging in more stuffing sessions, stress relief and all that. It was just some more pudge over his belly and thighs and his face becoming a little rounder. Alistair was perfectly okay with it, he had always been quite skinny and putting on weight made him feel comfortable, he was loved by Nikau no matter what size or shape.

But, with the new weight, Nikau couldn’t keep his hands off Alistair. While they were sleeping, Nikau’s hand would find its way over his belly (which was often filled with food) and he would softly rub the skin there. He would wind his arms around Alistair from behind, touching over his love handles and cupping the swell of his lower belly. Squeezing his thighs. Kissing the roll that sat on his lap whenever he was lounging. He enjoyed this Alistair, knowing that he was comfortable enough to gain weight and not feel bad about it.

Right now though, he enjoyed seeing the soft flesh swell and tighten as Alistair packed away more Sprite. He squeezed his eyes shut with the next swallow and pushed the bottle away with his own hand, a spectacular burp rumbling up from his stomach. He moaned and pushed a hand into his belly, forcing up another. It gurgled at him and he whined. Nikau scooched back a little and kissed his skin, hearing the contents swirling and bubbling under the skin. He smiled.

“Feeling alright?”

Alistair nodded, unable to speak. He stuck his hand between their bodies and pulled down his waistband, the tight elastic now sitting snugly under his expanded stomach. He moaned while he rubbed at the red marks, fingers drifting over his belly button. Nikau joined his hands with his own, soothing over the angry lines and squeezing the sides of his stomach, the fat there still soft. He kissed Alistair.

“I love you, baby. I love this tummy.” He squeezed again, hands now moving towards the tightest part. He dappled his fingers across it, gently tending to his boyfriend’s achy stomach. He looked at the bottle of Sprite on the bedside table. “Only a little left. Do you think you can do it?”

At first Alistair seemed hesitant, hands coming to rest where Nikau’s were. He eyed the bottle, then Nikau. “Okay, but go slow.”

“Of course.”

Nikau reached for the bottle and let Alistair take a big breath before allowing him to start drinking. He tipped it gently, not wanting to cause Alistair to be sick, and watched his throat work. He let his left hand drop and come down to Alistair’s stomach, slowly rubbing in circles as the last of the lemonade was put away. His stomach was completely rounded out, swollen and sitting in both of their laps. Nikau kissed his belly as the last drop of Sprite went down and tossed the empty bottle aside.

“Good job, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me, now let me rub your stomach, you deserve it.”

He started in the middle, where the tightness morphed into softness, pressing in and pushing up a burp from his boyfriend. It was small and didn’t really give him any relief, so he tried again and a rumble travelled its way up to his throat and a belch burst through his mouth. Alistair’s body sagged as it was released, the pressure finally going down a little. Nikau kissed his belly again, dipping his hands lower and squeezing Alistair’s love handles.

“You just can’t- urrp- keep your hands off me, huh?”

Nikau chuckled. “Nope. Your tummy is gorgeous, baby. I need more hands to feel all of it at once,” As he was talking, Alistair hiccuped and his belly sloshed in Nikau’s hands. He whined and arched his back. “Needy, aren’t we?” He teased. He pushed deep into the tight skin. Alistair groaned.

“Not so hard. You’ll make me sick.” His hand was covering his mouth. Alistair’s forehead was creased, a red blush coated his cheeks and his eyes were sinfully half-lidded. Nikau was fighting every demon to not ravish him right then and there. He stuck with touching Alistair’s full belly, loving the noises coming out of both his belly and his boyfriend. A belch rang out making Alistair lurch forward a little.

“Oops, sorry. Almost lost it.”

Nikau groaned. The things Alistair said were shooting straight to his cock. He put his head right on Alistair’s belly, unable to contain himself, and heard every gurgle in high quality. He felt his stomach jolt and suddenly a bunch of bubbles rocketed up inside him and Alistair burped up a thick wet belch. He moaned loudly.

“Fuck, Nik. I can’t hold them back.” He belched again. It gurgled in his throat and sounded like it fell perfectly from his lips.

Nikau raised his head. “I didn’t think burps were attractive until I met you, Star.”

Alistair laughed and Nikau wanted to just kiss the smile off his face. He held Alistair’s tummy as he laughed, the lemonade sloshing in his tight belly. “Careful, don’t wanna lose all of this.” He kissed it again.

“I won’t. If you keep kissing it like that I’ll be fine.”

Nikau moved off Alistair’s legs, instead slotting himself beside him. He put one hand on Alistair’s belly, caressing it gently. He kissed Alistair’s temple and the boy let his head drop on to Nikau’s shoulder. Alistair’s hand sat atop his stomach too, his fingers slowly pushing in and around to bring up some more burps.

There was a loud grumble from his middle, Alistair’s back arching upwards in a quick moment. He moaned, a burp catching in his throat.

“Ooh, god. My belly…” He whined out. “Rub my tummy.”

Nikau had an idea. “Lean forward a little, lovely. I’ll sit behind you and rub it.” Getting Alistair to move forward was a little difficult, but Nikau was able to slot in behind him and put both hands on his boyfriend’s middle. Immediately, Alistair sunk into Nikau and let himself be cared for.

Everytime Nikau pushed down just a little, Alistair’s throat jumped with a belch. He moaned, and whined after each one, and Nikau slowly but surely felt his stomach deflate and the skin became softer. He let his hand drift lower and shook Alistair’s fat lower tummy. It was sinful how much he loved it. He kissed Alistair’s nape.

“You enjoying yourself?” Alistair patted his hand, laughing a little.

Nikau hummed, nodding into Alistair’s hair. “You’re so hot. I want to eat your belly.”

“Oh my god, please don’t.”

“I don’t know. It’s just so cute.” Nikau let his finger dip into his boyfriend’s belly button, thumb moving gently along the skin beside it.

There were little gurgles coming from Alistair’s belly, and ones that didn’t sound like digestion. Nikau chuckled.

“Are you seriously getting hungry again? I could grab you some of the leftovers?” He kissed him again, the soft part of his neck, and let his hands scoop underneath Alistair’s stomach and stay there.

Alistair made a humming noise. “Maybe. Only if you feed it to me.”

“Sure thing.” He patted his tummy, a hollow noise emanating out. “Stay put.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to move anywhere even if I tried.”

[rottenomelet]

a/n: in celebration of my random douma/kotoha post doing unexpectedly well, i’m posting this little exerpt of some douma/kotoha porn i’ve been writing for a while. thank you all so much for all the love on my douma/kotoha posts 💟

context: this takes places sometime after kotoha has run away from her husband. she is now completely settled into doumas cult, however she is unaware of him being a demon. douma considers kotoha as little more than a pet or a plant.

warnings: doumas kind of an asshole, as we all know, and sometimes has misogynistic thoughts.

Kotoha is… shapely.

Her neck is a long, smooth expanse of white, save for one small mole on her collarbone. Douma can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop his unbeatable urge to kiss that mark. Her shoulders would be just as pale as her neck, if it weren’t for a hint of a flush.

Her breasts are large - there’s no polite way to put it. Douma’s always noticed this. Kotoha is breastfeeding a larger-than-average baby, after all, so swollen tits are expected. Her nipples, probably a pretty shade of pink normally, are rubbed raw and red from Inosuke’s near-constant drinking. They’ve pebbled in the cool air, sensitive too, if her shivers when he flicks one is any sign.

He leans down, kissing each nipple delicately, before taking in the right one hungrily. He nips at that red nipple, suckles it like a baby. She arches her back at the feeling, only pushing her breasts into his face more.

“Douma-sama. They’re really quite sensitive…” She tells him. In response, he grabs a handful of her left breast and tweaks her nipple there.

He won’t lie - he’s obsessed with this humans body. It’s perfect, even in ways it shouldn’t be. Large breasts, wide hips, a nice supple ass - she’s perfectly made for him.

On the rare occurrence that he has been interested in satisfying the pleasures of the flesh, he’s always found himself gravitating to more shapely women. Ones whose curves are apparent, even underneath layers of conservative Japanese clothing. He’s always believed that a woman should be shapely, curvy. Supple in all the right places. Douma’s never understood the fascination with a woman who lacks those mouthwatering qualities.

Mothers tend to gain weight in the spots Douma prefers. Breasts, thighs, hips - all places where a woman should have a little extra meat. Because of this, many of his… sexual partners, willing or not, have been mothers.

Kotoha is no exception.

When that first dribble of milk hits his tongue, Douma almost loses his mind.

It’s sweet and creamy. He’s almost jealous of Inosuke. Douma suckles and nips, uncaring of Kotoha’s little yelps when he does so. He can smell how much she likes it when his teeth run over her sensitive areolas.

He honestly barely has a taste for anything besides human blood and flesh but Kotoha’s milk tastes like a dessert. A treat to Douma for being such a good leader. He can imagine that her milk is her gift to him, her body a thank you for taking care of her so well in the last few months.

A shaky hand patting his back interrupts his commending drink.

“Douma-sama, please ease up a little? I-I don’t want Inosuke to go hungry tomorrow.”

She’s sweet, worrying about her baby even now. He appeases her, giving her tit one last suck before letting go.

His lips travel slowly, slowly south but his hands are a little faster. They quickly trace the outline of her body before settling on her hips. Her hips are wide, most likely from childbirth, yet her waist is small. Stretch marks on the otherwise milky skin of her stomach and thighs.

Her thighs are thick and Douma feels an urge to bury his head between them. Lick the slick that gathers in that heated space between those valleys.

His cool hands trail down to her thighs, caressing them. “I’m going to touch you between your legs now. Is that ok?”

[mehbles]

Letting go: part 3 chapters 7-9. Final part

Chapter Seven: A Growing Revelation

The next morning, Jake was still processing the conversation from his doctor’s office. The shock of his weight gain had settled in, the reality of his own choices more present than ever. And yet, a part of him couldn’t deny the enjoyment he’d found in his changing body, the comfort of the life he and Adam had built together.

As he made coffee in the kitchen, he heard Adam coming in from his morning run. He turned, still caught up in his own thoughts, but was surprised by what he saw. Adam was wearing a snug pair of athletic shorts that hugged his hips tightly, the waistband cutting into a soft, newly formed curve at his waist. Jake’s eyebrows shot up, and he couldn’t help but smile as he took in Adam’s appearance.

Adam’s frame was as athletic as ever, but there was something new — a noticeable fullness that hadn’t been there a few months ago. His thighs were thicker, pressing against the fabric of his shorts, and his waist, once trim, now had the beginnings of a slight softness that filled out his sides. His chest and shoulders looked even broader than before, thickened with muscle, but the edges were softer, as though he’d been gaining more than just mass.

Adam grinned as he noticed Jake’s expression. “Surprised?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stretched, giving Jake a full view of his form.

Jake chuckled, setting down his mug. “I mean…yeah, I didn’t realize you were, uh, bulking up.”

Adam walked over and leaned against the counter, giving Jake a look of playful pride. “I’ve been adding a bit of weight myself,” he admitted, patting his own stomach, where a small but noticeable curve was forming. “Up twenty pounds, give or take. I wanted to keep up with you a bit. You’re not the only one who enjoys a little extra, you know?”

Jake laughed, feeling a warmth spread through him at the idea that Adam had been subtly joining in, letting himself grow a bit softer while still building muscle. He couldn’t help but admire Adam’s figure — a mix of hard muscle and a new, plush layer that hinted at their shared lifestyle of indulgence.

“Well, you’re looking good,” Jake said, giving Adam’s waist a gentle poke, noticing how the skin and muscle gave just slightly under his finger. “I didn’t even notice you’d been putting on weight.”

Adam shrugged, still grinning. “It’s been slow, intentional. I’ve been more focused on the gym, but, you know, you’re not the only one enjoying the buffets and the takeout.”

Jake chuckled, feeling a sense of camaraderie with Adam, but his own recent doctor’s visit weighed on him, and he decided to bring it up. “Speaking of weight,” he started, glancing down. “I had a check-up yesterday. The doctor wasn’t exactly thrilled with what she saw.”

Adam’s playful expression softened as he looked at Jake with curiosity and concern. “Oh? What’d she say?”

Jake took a breath, feeling the need to be honest. “I’m up seventy pounds since my last visit. I’m at 310 now. Blood pressure’s high, cholesterol too. Basically, she’s suggesting I pull back a bit on…all of this.” He gestured to himself, patting his rounded stomach.

Adam listened, nodding, his expression thoughtful. “How do you feel about it?”

Jake considered the question, feeling the weight of the doctor’s words alongside the comfort he felt in the life they’d created together. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I love how things are with us. I feel happy, you know? But…I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d let myself go.”

Adam reached out, placing a hand on Jake’s belly, giving it a gentle squeeze, as though reassuring him. “Jake, you’re more than just a number on a scale. Look at you — you’re happy, we’re happy. I mean, yeah, maybe we could make a few changes, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up what we love. Maybe just…find a bit of balance.”

Jake smiled, grateful for Adam’s perspective. Adam’s hand on his belly, that familiar touch, grounded him, reminding him of the connection they shared and the joy he’d found in letting go of past expectations.

“Balance,” he repeated, nodding. “Maybe I can work with that.”

Adam chuckled, patting his own softening waist with a grin. “Besides, if I keep growing like this, I’m going to need some of that balance too.”

The two of them shared a laugh, both aware of the changes they’d undergone, both accepting that their journey was a shared one. They didn’t need to follow anyone’s expectations but their own. As they finished their coffee, Jake felt a renewed sense of calm. Whatever adjustments they decided to make, he knew they’d do it together, on their own terms, embracing the life they loved and the bodies that had come to reflect it.

Chapter Eight: A Cycle of Growth

The next few months slipped by in a blur for Jake and Adam, as they found themselves caught in a shared rhythm of indulgence, lifting, and celebration. Adam’s growth had become its own source of fascination — his frame was filling out fast, a blend of hard muscle and the beginnings of soft curves that hinted at his lifestyle of heavy lifting and hearty meals. Each week seemed to bring a new milestone for Adam, his strength hitting record highs, his body gaining both size and power.

Watching Adam’s transformation sparked something in Jake. Despite his doctor’s warnings, he couldn’t resist the urge to join Adam at the gym, hoping to regain some of the strength he once had. But stepping back into the weight room after all these months, he realized how much his body had changed. His muscles, though still solid under the layers of fat, struggled under weights he used to lift with ease, and cardio was an even bigger challenge. Even warming up left him winded, his heart pounding and his breath coming hard, the added weight of his body fighting him with every step.

As he went through his sets, he felt his belly hanging lower than ever, a new, constant weight that added strain to every movement. Once a subtle curve, his belly had swelled outward and now hung a good five or six inches over his waistband, rounding out in a soft, full mass that jutted proudly in front of him. When he leaned forward or bent down to catch his breath, he could feel its heavy presence pressing against his thighs, spreading comfortably across his lap. His chest, too, had transformed — his former pecs now softened and spread out into what Adam affectionately called “moobs.” They were full and rounded, hanging slightly over the top of his belly, bouncing and swaying with every lift and step, moving with their own weight in a way that was new and strangely satisfying.

Their routine began to spiral into a pattern of growth, each day feeding into the next. Every night they celebrated their progress with hearty, indulgent meals. Jake’s appetite seemed to expand along with his body, and Adam was all too eager to encourage it, bringing over extra plates, sliding desserts his way, and occasionally challenging him to push past his limits. Jake found himself eating with abandon, his appetite now a thing of pride, as he plowed through plate after plate, each meal a feast that left him stuffed and content, his belly stretched tight and heavy.

The results were undeniable. Jake’s strength was building again, but so was his body fat, spiraling upwards at a pace that matched his newfound muscle. His arms were thickening, his shoulders rounding, his chest fuller than ever, his “moobs” a prominent, plush mass that rested on top of his belly. Every step made them sway and bounce, moving in harmony with his rounded belly. His gut itself had grown so large that it pushed outward in a heavy, pendulous arc, hanging inches over his waistband, its soft bulk swaying with every movement. Walking, sitting, even standing still, he could feel its presence, the way it shifted and settled with him, a constant reminder of his indulgent lifestyle.

Adam, too, had begun to show signs of their shared gluttony. Though his gains had started with muscle, his frame had softened, a new layer of fat rounding out his waist and sides. His once-trim waist now curved outward with the beginnings of a belly, and his face had taken on a new fullness that added a soft edge to his features. Yet his strength only continued to increase, each week bringing new personal records as he embraced his bigger, fuller frame.

One day, after a particularly intense session at the gym, they stood side by side in front of the mirror, marveling at their transformations. Jake rested his hands on his belly, feeling its weight in his palms, the soft, plush mass filling his lap, hanging proudly over his waistband. His “moobs” were prominent, heavy, and full, rounding out in a way that made his chest sway with even the slightest movement.

Adam looked over, a grin spreading across his face. “We’re really getting somewhere, aren’t we?” he said, giving Jake a playful nudge. As his shoulder bumped against Jake’s belly, the soft mass swayed visibly, a ripple moving through his middle that lingered even after the nudge. Jake laughed, feeling the satisfying jiggle settle back into place.

He looked at Adam, smirking as he noticed the snug fit of Adam’s shorts, the waistband cutting slightly into his softening waist. “You’re not exactly holding back either,” Jake pointed out, poking Adam’s waist in playful retaliation.

Adam laughed, then reached out, pressing his finger into Jake’s belly. His hand disappeared into the thick layer of fat, his finger sinking in all the way to the second knuckle, the softness of Jake’s stomach molding around it. “Look at this,” Adam said with a mix of admiration and pride, giving Jake’s belly a gentle squeeze before letting go, watching as it bounced and settled, swaying before coming to rest.

Jake chuckled, feeling a flush of pride despite his recent doctor’s warnings. “It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” he admitted, patting his own belly and feeling its heft. “I didn’t expect to be this…big. Strong, yeah. But this?”

Adam grinned, placing a hand on his own waist, patting the new curve of his belly. “It’s the best of both worlds,” he said. “We’re strong, we’re bigger…and we’re happy.”

As they left the gym that day, both of them breathless and sweaty, their bodies filled with a new, undeniable weight, they knew they were in a cycle that neither wanted to end. They were pushing each other, growing both stronger and softer together, caught up in the thrill of each other’s transformations. And even as Jake felt the strain of his added size, the friction of his thighs, the pull of his belly, he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. This was the life he’d come to love, and he was more than ready to embrace every inch of it with Adam by his side.

Chapter Nine : Embracing Every Inch, no going back

The climb up the six flights of stairs felt endless. Jake gripped the railing, his breaths coming in shallow bursts as he trudged upward, each step sending a ripple through his massive belly. He could feel it jiggling and swaying, the weight of it pulling downward with every step. His body had become something of a marvel — a blend of strength and significant softness that had grown far beyond what he’d ever imagined.

Behind him, Adam was struggling too. Sweat dampened his brow, and his own newly thickened belly jostled and bounced with every movement. At 5’11” and now a substantial 265 pounds, Adam’s lean frame had filled out with thick, powerful muscle cushioned by a visible layer of fat. His belly, once flat and firm, now curved outward, softening into a round bulge that pressed against his waistband. Each step made it sway and shift, adding to the strain as he kept pace with Jake.

“Almost…there…” Jake panted, glancing back with a weary grin, his cheeks flushed from the exertion. Even talking was a challenge; his heart pounded in his chest, his breathing labored as he pushed himself to climb. By the fifth flight, his belly hung forward in a deep arc, the heavy mass resting against his thighs with every step. His chest — or rather, his “moobs” — bounced with every movement, the full, round weight swaying visibly, each step sending a slight jiggle through the plush curves.

Adam gave Jake a pat on the back as they reached the final landing, chuckling through his own short breaths. “Guess…we got our warm-up done,” he said with a grin, though his own face was flushed pink, and his chest rose and fell with each heaving breath. Adam’s heart raced, his shirt clinging to his damp skin, outlining the new, fuller curves of his body.

Inside the trainer’s office, both men dropped their shirts, revealing the full extent of their gains. Adam stepped forward first, standing in front of the mirror, his heavier frame on display. At 265 pounds, he had grown thick and solid, with broad shoulders and muscular arms now softened with a layer of fat that rounded out every edge. His waist had expanded into a full, 42-inch circumference, and his belly jutted forward in a soft, firm curve that rested slightly over his waistband, quivering with each breath. His chest had grown into full, rounded pecs, with a slight sag that gave him a proud, powerful appearance. His face had softened, his cheeks rounded, his jawline blending into the thickened curve of his neck.

When Jake stepped up next to him, the trainer’s eyes widened at the sight. Jake was towering, his frame massive at 6’2” and now a solid 370 pounds. His body fat had climbed to an impressive 48%, giving him a plush, hefty look that spoke to months of intense indulgence. His belly stretched outward in a heavy arc, a 62-inch circumference that hung nearly six inches over his waistband, swaying and jiggling with each movement. His chest had developed into large, soft “moobs” that rested atop his belly, full and heavy, bouncing gently with each breath. His arms, still strong, measured a thick 22 inches around, their powerful form buried under a layer of plushness that gave them a rounded, softer shape. His neck was thickened into a solid pillar, blending smoothly into his shoulders, his cheeks full and his jaw softened by the fullness of his face.

As the trainer took their measurements, he called out each stat, letting the numbers sink in. Adam’s weight had soared to 265 pounds with a 42-inch waist and a body fat of 30%. His chest measured an impressive 48 inches, his bulked-up frame a blend of muscle and the soft fullness that gave him a sturdy, almost immovable look.

Jake, on the other hand, had grown into a veritable force of nature. At 370 pounds and a body fat of 48%, his waist measured a substantial 62 inches. His chest, too, was massive at 56 inches, his moobs prominent and plush, pressing outward with a weight that was hard to ignore. His hands settled comfortably on his belly, feeling the soft, expansive curve that defined his new form.

After jotting down their measurements, the trainer asked them to try a few strength tests. Adam stepped up first, the visible layer of softness across his body jiggling slightly as he moved. His muscles flexed beneath the fat, his arms and chest thick with bulk, each movement setting off a faint ripple through his belly. Despite his added weight, he lifted with ease, his power evident as he pushed through the exercises, his cheeks flushed with effort, his eyes glinting with pride as he watched his reflection.

Jake, however, faced more of a challenge. The sheer weight of his belly made each lift a struggle, his breaths coming in shallow pants, his body laboring under its own bulk. Each movement set his belly swaying, the thick mass rippling and shifting, his moobs bouncing heavily atop the curve. His arms flexed under their plush layer, his chest and belly quivering with every strain, but he pushed through, his sheer size making each rep an impressive feat.

As they wrapped up, the trainer read their final stats aloud, cementing the reality of their size. Jake’s 370 pounds, with a 62-inch waist and a 56-inch chest, felt almost surreal, while Adam’s 265 pounds with a 42-inch waist and a 48-inch chest painted a picture of a solid, full-bodied man. The numbers seemed unreal, yet the evidence was right there — their bodies, fuller, heavier, and undeniably changed.

When they finally made their way out of the trainer’s office, the walk back down the stairs proved just as challenging. Jake’s belly jiggled and swayed with each step, pressing heavily forward, while his chest bounced visibly, his moobs shifting with every movement. Adam, equally breathless, felt the strain too, his newly thickened belly and chest jostling and shifting

[watch-you-grow]

‘How Much Bigger Do You Want Me?’

—————————————-

“How much bigger do you want me!” I ask. You’ve helped me gain 30 lbs since we started to see each other. My once toned stomach now bulged out in front of me. My hips now spread across the whole chair I was sitting on. The Jean shorts that fit me just a month ago were now straining to stay closed. My favorite tee shirt now crept up my belly no matter how many times I pulled it back down.

“How much bigger do you want to get?” You ask me back. Holding out an overflowing tray of food.

-

“How much bigger do you want me?” I moan out between bites of doughnut. The empty box of a dozen doughnuts rested on my distended middle. My belly had nearly doubled since I last asked this question. The tee shirt that used to just creep up, now fits more like a crop top. I’ve given up on buttoning up my jean shorts. They barely fit around my growing ass anymore anyway. My arms have gone soft. As well as the underside of my chin. I stuff the rest of the doughnut in my mouth as I wait for your answer.

“How much bigger do you want to get?” You respond. You replace the box on my belly with a fresh dozen.

-

“How much bigger do you want me?” I groan. I rub my massive belly. Grease from the serving tray, now empty of the mountain of fries and burgers, was smeared across the tight skin. My hands barely made it all the way around my midsection. The tee shirt I loved so much is now just a bra. Straining to fit around my massive breasts. I’ve long since seen those old Jean shorts. They stop half way up my thighs and refuse to stretch any further, so I just gave them away. These days my underwear even struggles to fit aorund my squishy mounds of fat.

“How much bigger do you want to get?” You ask. Rubbing my large belly and holding up a gallon size milkshake to my lips.

-

“How much bigger do you want me?” I pant out. You just helped me finish my third tray of food for the afternoon. My belly has grown beyond what I could’ve imagined. I have given up on clothing long ago. Nothing from before I started gaining fit anymore. You now just drape a large sheet over my body to keep me covered. I groaned as I tried to shift my massive weight, jerking myself around in hopes momentum would help. I became out of breath before I even managed to move an inch. The sheet that was draped over me in place of clothing slipped and started to fall to the floor. Only to stop half way when multiple parts had become stuck in the folds of my fat. Still, the sheet moved enough to exposed my luscious mounds of fat. I try to grab at the sheet but can’t reach around my large frame and the move I move the more my fold jiggle and the sheet falls off me more. You see me struggling and grab the sheet for me. I go to thank you but you pull it from my body exposing my naked mountains of fat.

“How much bigger do you want to get?” You ask, grabbing and kneeding my soft mounds of fat.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Can I make a request for Gilliam and Garcia mutual gaining in a domestic setting (without ross of course) both at around 500 lbs, with Garcia having a bigger gut and Gilliam being chubbier all around, appreciating each others gains? Thank you

Ahhhhh I definitely struggled with this one ajsnjsb. I do very much like the pairing, I just think I've legit never used either of them in like all 7 of my playthroughs lmao.

I hope you enjoy it regardless cause I did have fun writing it after looking up all their supports ajnjbhns

Warning: This is a fetish story!

In a small yet lively cottage that mostly everyone in the bustling border town knows of, its two residents are the very cause of such an atmosphere. The residence is nearly the exact same as all its neighbors; like all the rest, the house is built from a combination of Frelia's fine lumber from its abundant forests and Renais' rich minerals derived from its vast mountains.

Despite the average appearances, its occupants are anything but average looking.

The two married men are busy in the kitchen. The room is currently being made a mess while also being cleaned up at the same time with both of the men working together.

Gilliam has his back to the stove. Clearly enjoying the peacetime in Frelia, his figure has bloated out. His trusty pants cover up the entire expanse of his blubbery rear. Standing at an impressive stature next to even tall men, Gilliam's height is made extra impressive with his weight. Weighing 508 pounds —last he checked two weeks back— that came about from extensive sessions involving food and groping. The entire shape of his ass is outlined by his tight clothes, every fold and roll of his plump, shapely ass visible for Garcia to gaze upon just by turning around. Gilliam's entire figure is rotund, his lovingly stuffed figure eagerly accepting the extra weight everywhere. The width of Gilliam's hips are almost the same measurement as the kitchen sink; his thighs fill out his pants. Gilliam's large thighs bulge from his weight, the upper half of his thighs straining against the fabric much more than his smaller yet still doughy lower half of his thighs and calves. His thighs squish together from Gilliam’s feet brought together.. It’s a bit difficult to see just how smushed Gilliam’s thighs are with his plentiful ass fat blocking the view, though.

Not that Garcia minds, turning away from his task to give it a playful smack. “You almost done? I’ve got a couple more things ready for you,” Garcia asks. Two turners in his right hand, he reaches around Gilliam to dump them with the last remaining dirty dishes. Garcia gets a handful of Gilliam’s stomach, his own flabby arm covered and sinking into his husband’s blubbery gut as he hugs him with his right arm. Garcia also gets to feel the back of his husband but his gut does most of the feeling. Garcia’s stomach is absolutely immense; the large flabby sack of fat is the retired warrior’s largest feature.

“I’m getting there. It’s a bit difficult,” Gilliam faces down at the last few utensils left despite his husband’s distractions. Gilliam’s difficulty comes from his own size. With him being rather tall, he always had the issue of several things not being made with people his own height in mind. And now with his growing waistline from too many binges —sessions that involve being fed or feeding or both more often than not— Gilliam’s troubles with things being too small are only doubled.

The kitchen sink forces Gilliam to stand at a slightly awkward angle. His thighs come up to the countertop which didn’t use to be too much of a problem before, nothing that a slight hunch or bending couldn’t fix. But his bigger, rather large belly makes it a bigger problem. His large belly sags down to rest on the counter despite it being tucked behind his shirt. Which, when combined with cleaning dishes makes for not the best of combinations. So Gilliam takes his time washing dishes and stands an extra few inches back from the counter. A few drops of soapy water do manage to collide with his belly and the lower roll of his stomach flab is damp from the splashes of water that manage to wet the countertop that his belly does inevitably touch whenever Gilliam reaches forward to grab something.

Garcia also makes washing the dishes a bigger issue than it usually is.

His husband cooking behind him, the two’s kitchen was clearly not made with two obese men in mind. Garcia pigging out just as much as Gilliam, if not more, left him at around the same weight as his husband. At least a whole quarter tonner of a man according to last month’s weigh in, Garcia’s slightly shorter stature has him looking much rounder than Gilliam. A large portion of his weight went to his over bloated stomach, the large gut representative of his new eating habits. Garcia wears his white shirt untucked. His gut spills out from his shirt, the hairy expanse of his lower gut exposed. His chest isn’t that far behind his gut in terms of size. The two large breasts spill out of the shirt’s extremely low neckline; his doughy, hairy chest pressed up against the neckline that struggles to hold back his meaty chest. Not that Garcia minds, the warrior proud of his weight. Though he does move around carefully while he cooks, always mindful of his wobbling belly as he takes slow waddles to adjust himself. His thighs help him move around slowly, the two thick legs crammed with enough fat at his weight to make sure he has to swing one meaty thigh past the other just to walk now. His thighs are free for the most part; Garcia wears a pair of ill fitting shorts. The fat on his thighs curve inward from the tight fit along with his ass. His ass bulges out from the small clothes.

Next to Giliam, Garcia is completely underdressed. A fact that he takes a complete advantage of.

“The food’s almost done. Shouldn’t you be hurrying up?” Garcia slots himself right up next to Gilliam. He bumps his husband with his large hip. Like gelatin slapping gelatin, neither of the now jiggling men end up moving from their spot. Garcia’s gut spills onto the counter, the cool material nice on the underside of his belly that envelops and smothers the countertop.

Gilliam keeps scrubbing at the used pan. “You slow cook everything. The meat won’t be ready for another thirty minutes,”

“And it’ll taste great cause I made it. You don’t get to be this big without knowing your way around a meal,” He pats his belly, the large pile of blubber wobbling in return. Garcia reaches for a kitchen rag and starts drying at all the pans and utensils Gilliam has washed. He makes sure to dry extra vigorously; his blubbery arms that are still as big as his days as a warrior wobble, his biceps filled with lard instead of muscle now.

Gilliam keeps a straight face as he now rinses the sink, all the dishes now washed.. But, he does glance over to see Garcia’s nonsense every once in a while.

Garcia dries the larger dishes now. He uses his gut for leverage, his doughy stomach sinking under the weight of the pans as Garcia makes sure to remove every last drop of water. Clearly not careful to remove most of the water immediately, Garcia’s already tight top is wet. His skin begins to show through the translucent fabric.

Gilliam pats at his forehead with the hand towel as he finishes his task of cleaning. His task finally complete, he focuses his attention over to his husband. Which he nearly snorts at with a grin.

“You’re finally taking some time to look at what a handsome husband you have?” Garcia grins right back. He also puts down the pan he dries, already done drying it some time ago.

“I always have time,” Gilliam brings himself closer. He pushes at Garcia with his gut, slowly using his bulk to turn his husband while also guiding him with his blubbery left arm. “But if I don’t do the chores my husband asks me to do, then what does that make me?”

Garcia allows himself to be guided by Gilliam. Their guts touch up against each other, both of their stomachs smushed as they take slow waddles. “It’d mean you're not such a hard-ass,” Garcia smiles when he sees a blush form on Gilliam’s face.

“Then I guess I won’t listen when you tell me to eat another plate,” Gilliam quips back.

“Like you need the encouragement,”

“Neither do you,”

His retort thrown back at him, all Garcia can do is laugh. “Guess all we can do is blame ourselves then. Not that I have any complaints,” Their left hands still interlocked, two sets of pudgy fingers happily held together, Garcia uses his free hand to grasp at the other’s belly. His thumb in Gilliam’s belly button, Garcia’s palm is smothered in belly flab as he holds the underside of such a doughy gut.

“I have no complaint,” Gilliam’s smile widens as he reaches the wall, well, as Garcia reaches the wall, his husband’s ass pinned to it. He himself stands a couple feet away from it with both of them so round and taking up so much space. Gilliam uses the extra couple of inches of height he has on his husband to pin him to the wall. Which he doesn’t even need to use, Garcia allowing himself to be in such a position.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Garcia asks. He gives Gilliam’s belly a small shake, staring at the way his husband’s belly slowly jiggles like waves crashing onto a beach.

Gilliam does his best to reach around both his and Garcia’s guts to grope his husband's ass. “We are tied once again. You want to break my winning streak?”

Garcia grins at the touch before suddenly becoming stiff. “Not if the food burns!”

Giving his husband a kiss, Gilliam presses both his hands on Garcia’s gut, reaching underneath his shirt to rub at it. But only for a brief moment, pushing himself off his husband by using his massive belly as leverage. As swiftly as he can move out of the way, lugging one large thigh past the other, he does his best to make enough room for Garcia. “I’ll set the plates,”

“Good, I’m starving so I’m sure you must be too,” Garcia rests a hand on Gilliam’s belly as he waddles past him, his fingers slowly grazing over the soft, blubbery stomach.

After Garcia makes his way through, Gilliam waddles over to the cupboards. “Make sure you eat everything,” He pulls out extra large dishes, the set purchased to allow them to eat more per serving.

“I’ll gladly eat my fill as long as you do. I know you can’t resist my cooking,” He slowly brings the pot roast over to the already set table.

The table really mostly meant for the two of them, the furniture is made extra long for the two to sit side by side. Though now they have to sit across from each other, the poor bench most likely not able to withstand an entire half ton of weight. As Garcia places the pot roast and goes back to retrieve the other side dishes, he smiles at his eager husband already sitting down.

As Garcia sits down and makes himself comfortable —after adjusting his gut multiple times— the two grin at each other in anticipation.

Neither wait for a single confirmation. Instead, they dig in and start their competition, both somehow even more eager and competitive now when it comes to eating compared to their arm wrestling so many years ago. Not that either mind, the obese married men content with each other.

[jess-abides]

Vacation body thoughts below the cut (I should really just journal lol)

The last time I went on vacation in April, I was the biggest I’ve ever been. I wore my bikinis and was trying really hard to rock with body neutrality and tbh I was in a decent place with it. But I was super uncomfortable on the plane, and it was probably the most unpleasant travel experience that I can remember.

While I was on that trip, I started wanting to exercise…like idk why but I remember thinking “I want to start doing squats when I get home” lol and I got on the peloton the day after I got home and rode every day for like 2-3 weeks while I convinced my trainer friend to coach me after I realized he offered virtual sessions. I don’t know what changed, but something flipped basically overnight - when we first got started, I told my trainer “I’m really good at starting over, but I really want this to be the last time” and tbh it still feels like it could be.

I haven’t missed a single planned/scheduled workout since the day I got back from that trip, and I’ve enjoyed the process so much more this time around because it came from a place of actually just wanting to exercise (as opposed to my typical pattern of ‘hate self > must be smaller > deserve punishment > must eat less and move more’).

I also very intentionally did not diet at all, because I still have to work very hard at not spiraling when I try to ~get healthy~ and I am sick to death of dieting and burning out and being afraid of food and the scale.

So I decided to just focus on the one thing I was excited about, which was getting stronger. Which naturally led me to make some different food choices based on what my body was craving (and plenty of well-intentioned bullying from my coach when I wasn’t eating enough). I’ve just been having so much fun getting stronger that it started to feel like a shame not to at least try to get enough protein to actually let my muscles recover and grow.

So I headed off on this vacation 30 pounds lighter than the last, inches gone from my waist, hips, thighs, wedged comfortably into the middle seat between two strangers and not silently apologizing for my existence. Happier, stronger, more confident. A little nervous to get out of my routine, tbh, but I could also really tell my body could use a break.

And, for once, not at all worried about my diet or whether I’d gain weight; knowing I’ve been learning to trust myself and basically eating whatever I wanted anyway. I enjoyed good seafood and good ice cream, but never felt like I needed to over-indulge or overcompensate for indulging. I went for long walks on the beach because I wanted to, and sat on the porch when I decided I’d rather do that instead.

Out of sheer curiosity, I weighed myself this afternoon (something I would never have done in the past - early morning only, iykyk). And wouldn’t you know it? I weigh the same as the day I left. The number itself isn’t the victory - I would have been fine with being up a few because bodies will be bodies, and I guess that’s really what I’m proud of!

And I’m looking forward to being back on my bullshit tomorrow morning and seeing how this break plays out in my workouts this week. After I sleep A LOT tonight 😌

[bruisedreflection]

Check in:

I haven’t been able to properly track the last two days, because I was around my partner, (I just don’t act like a crazy ana gremlin around them because I know they will worry) I will be able to today. I have an application to write today, and I was going to make some art. I am going to try my best to fast and then I will eat tomorrow before work. This pattern of a roughly 24hr - 36hr fast over two days, then 300-700cal, then repeat, seems to work well for me. 

I don’t have scales, and we will not be having scales in this house. My partner also had an ED previously and I don’t want them to be triggered. Today I considered buying scales to weigh myself, and then returning them while my partner was at work. It feels so embarrassing and shameful, I wish I could just have scales, because it feels like I can’t track, and my body perception is so very FUCKED UP right now. 

My thighs are part of the problem, because I walk a lot they swell up, so like this morning I can easily tell I have my thigh gap back, (by about a cm), but the dysmorphia is so intense I can bounce between seeing I've gained weight, to seeing I've lost weight and I hate it. 

So, since I can’t have scales (though when I feel skinny enough I will go to the gym to weigh in) I’m going to take measurements with a dressmakers tape. Waist, Thighs, Under-bust, Hips, Calves, Upper arms. And use those to track, the problem is again, I don’t want to do this around my partner so they don’t freak out. But I can’t do it after work either, because of the swelling I get.

Guess it will only ever be on days like today when I am off work and partner leaves at like 12. 

[choco-cherry-chunk]

My cold has gotten worse so I’m deciding to post more about my OC’s, regardless of interest.

Between Limber and Moriarty, the latter is the one with a belly kink. Not in that he wants to be pregnant or have such a belly, but he loves seeing them as he especially loves seeing the changes in his husband. Limber, at least initially, isn’t so inclined, but he comes to enjoy such things, especially with him seeing how much his husband ogles him during pregnancy and when he’s gained weight.

Limber has always tended to be on the smaller side of things, so his doctors are adamant about him gaining weight properly. Which Moriarty admittedly takes advantage of. Like that episode of “Malcolm in the Middle” when Hal is sneaking extra calories into Lois’ diet. Much of the same happens with Limber. He is the one that makes all their meals and gets creative. Extra protein in breakfast smoothies, adding a little treat or two he knows Limber won’t resist in his lunch, suggesting they order take-out more often because he knows he can sneak in some extra spring rolls or chips and salsa. Limber doesn’t notice for a while, too preoccupied with work and his own family drama, but he definitely starts packing on the pounds. He’s always been pretty wide-hipped in general, so he puts it on a lot in his hips, butt, and thighs. His belly gets quite big with time, stretching out his production shirts and cardigans.

He only brings it up when something significant happens. Given that Limber works on a college campus in a theater department, there are opportunities galore for pregnancy/belly kink, which ends up coming in the form of Moriarty stopping in for lunch and being directed to the theater space. There, he finds his husband directing some tech students on lighting from the stage, thus having a spotlight on him. The light puts a shadow on the back wall that makes Limber’s swollen belly look triple it’s size and Moriarty has to do everything he can to limit his fixation as he watches his husband wave at him and waddle his way down to where he’s standing. The truth does eventually come out and instead of being upset, Limber starts to lean into it (“I’ve always had trouble gaining weight. Why not make it a challenge?”).

But the time he’s in his third trimester, so many awkward events that have Moriarty trying to hide a boner. Limber’s backside getting too wide and thus getting him stuck in one of the theater seats during rehearsal. Limber stepping in for a dance instructor with food poisoning and Moriarty getting photos throughout the day of him in style-specific dance attire that was obviously from before the pregnancy, the fabric clinging to every round curve and crevice. Limber insisting he work until his due date and him waddling around his classroom with a medicine ball of a tummy and belly button to match, reading an old Greek play while slightly out of breath. His students are just as fascinated by his dedication, with some making bets on if he’ll go into labor during class.

And don’t even get him started on his subsequent pregnancies. 😉