#and not just. a meat slob

[xulips]

I need more info in the freakvamp au. like. does akito have organs? if not, does that include a brain?if n brain, how think? if have, why? if no blood, there's no way to get water around his body? no blood vessels? so uselessly existent organs??????? HELP

HAHSGS SORRY OP I THOUGHT IT FITS HIS CURIOSITY

but to answer ur question, kinda! he only have those that's beneficial to his daily activity, like his digestive and respiratory system. for example he doesn't have a heart to pump blood because he has no blood to begin with.

the way it works is that akito only digest meat (carnivore moment) and the nutrients from said meat (extracted thanks to the help of his special digestive system) helps his internal organs work just like normal, even better if the meat is fresh + has blood on them. more nutrients means an even stronger body

and for the brains and other parts of the organs, it's really just.. pure meat slob no bones whatsoever (this might make people believe he's weak in general because of no skeletal structure underneath him but his muscle power are way beyond comprehension to balance it out) (he's still an anomaly afterall, he can't be easy to kill)

i didn't actually plan for this au to become a real big thing in this account so i haven't done much research BUT! here's what i think about it so far :3c

[cat-on-the-web]

After a day of sleeping in the study hall because she spent all night composing instead of sleeping, Nina joins Momoka and Subaru for some fresh meat buns.

But it also leads to nice few bits of character beats. 1) it’s established Nina has no training in music theory or how to read sheet music, but is still good (and enthusiastic) about composition. 2) Nina keeps waffling between scolding herself for not studying, and loosing herself in the happiness of having friends and a hobby she enjoys. 3) While Nina and Subaru haven’t figured out their dynamic yet, they do have a strong and growing friendship, as seen with Subaru excusing herself to go after Nina and check up on her.

[princessbrunette]

🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚

rafe wasn’t a big sweatpants wearer.

he liked to think of himself as matured, classy, reeking of money. sweatpants was something he associated with being a slob, lazing around, not getting off your ass and working. that didn’t mean he didn’t own a few pairs— you know, for sleeping, lounging, etcetera.

because of his dislike for the garment, you’d rarely see him in anything other than work slacks or kook-y board shorts, which is why when he brushed past you in the hallway of tanny-hill, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tshirt — you were lost for words.

“wh—where are you going?” you all but mewl, quietly padding behind him as he frantically searches the bowl placed on the chest by the door.

“uh, gotta run n’see barry— the fuck are my keys? you seen ‘em?” he stressed, itching his forehead as he thinks about where he might’ve left them.

“no, uhm… you’re going out dressed like that?” you ask.

grey sweatpants — a grown man’s lingerie. with each step rafe took, it became abundantly clear that he’d skipped out on boxers today, something he never did, true lazy-day style. his dick print hung heavy in the centre below the draw strings, thick and causing a bump in the soft fabric. he glances down at himself upon following your gaze and shrugs obviously.

“laundry day.” he stops his search to face you properly, eyeing you where you stand. “the hells with you, seem all out of it today.” his voice is low and tired, and you can’t help but bite down on your glossy bottom lip, stepping towards him. you say nothing, staring up at him— and he stares back, eyes vacant and lips parted. you stand on your tip-toes and kiss him.

he kissed back, albeit confused— and as soon as you pressed your body to his, feeling his bulge right on your tummy — something took over you. it wasn’t enough that you were ovulating, the sweatpants were making you feral.

you quickly pull away to sink to your knees, a hand stroking his hip bone as you start to leave kisses to his clothed cock, the meat of it instinctually hardening beneath your trained touch. he smirks for a moment in disbelief, watching the way you mouth at him — humming like you were the one being pleased.

“alright, hey— i get it. ‘think sarah’s home. you—you want her comin’ down the stairs n’seeing the shit? stand up, kid.” he reluctantly reprimands you, giving your jaw a firm little tap but you only whine and pull him closer— your open mouth breathing hot air onto his growing erectjon, flat of your tongue pressed to the soft fabric between loving kisses.

“s’okay dad just wanna give you kisses.” it comes out muffled, distracted, like you don’t actually know what you’re saying. he licks his lips irritably at you not listening, eyes fluttering before he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to stand.

“i said alright. easy, yeah?” he warns once he’s closer to eye level with you, still gripping your jaw. you grin, all slick-lipped and glassy eyed.

“can’t go out anymore daddy, not like that.” you point to his crotch, your mouth having darkened the light grey fabric all around his hardened bulge— making it obvious something had gone down. it was true, he couldn’t go out like that. barry was always looking for new things to tease rafe about, and this would be giving him perfect ammunition. he presses his lips together, nostrils flaring before he lets go of your face, the same hand reaching round to the back of you, grabbing the back of your little booty shorts and yanking, using the momentum to spin you suddenly to face the same way as him.

as soon as you’re facing the other way he slaps your ass, before prodding at your shoulder — signifying for you to walk toward the stairs. “shit, little brat. start walkin’, think you owe me something.”

you giggle, slowing your pace like you were gonna come back with another retort but he simply gives your shoulder another little shove — practically bullying you. “said go, didn’t i?”

🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[fattystoriez]

The Roomate

Content Warning: Weight Gain

Tyus was for and athletic throughout his life, being on the football, wrestling and track teams in high school. Tyus was at college on a varsity football scholarship, he was just getting to campus for his first day when he met his roomate. He was surprised to find that his roommate was a 36 year old slobbish man to be his roommate. The man was wearing a tight blue polo, his fat guy and soft chest clung to the fabric. The shirt was stained with different stains.

“Nice to meet you” *BURAAAPP* The man belched loudly. “I’m Brayden.” Brayden pulls down his shirt as it rides up his belly.

Tyus was disgusted by his roomate, he was hairy, bald, fat… a total cock block. “I’m Tyus… you’re not what I expected for a roommate.” Tyus puts some bags down, he noticed that Brayden was very musky and the room was filled with it.

Brayden scratched his soft double chin “You’re exactly what I expected, a young fit jock.” Brayden got closer, his musk started to fill Tyus’ nostrils fogging up his brain. “Can get anyone with a flex from his toned arms, always showing them off with an athletic tank top.” Brayden put a hand on Tyus’ abs, rubbing them from under the shirt. Tyus wanted to push the fat perv away but he was sluggish. “Come sit down with me” Tyus noticed that there was a disgusting stained couch in the dorms living area, Brayden pushed Tyus right down onto the cum stained cushions.

The musk was making Tyus more submissive and agreeable to Brayden’s lifestyle. “ Oh uh wow… you smell… dis-“ Tyus had a hard time saying it, his cock beginning to twitch in his workout shorts.

“I know I’m smell great don’t I?” Brayden wafted his musk over to Tyus. “What do you like to eat, Tyus?”

“Oh I usually just eat lean meat and vegetables…” Tyus felt odd about what he was saying, he started to feel like that wasn’t true.

“Oh but you look like a man who really loves doughnuts, right” Brayden took out a dozen doughnuts and started shoving them into Tyus’ mouth.

“No I don-mphhhhh” Brayden moved Tyus’ hands to his fat belly.

“You feel that? You love that soft fat pig belly.” Brayden shoved another doughnut into Tyus’s mouth.

Tyus’s body began to swell with fat, bite after bite, covering his once toned abs. His flabby belly pressed against his tank top, his chest softening and become plump moobs. This looks down at his blubbery body, a mix of arousal and fear caused his cock to stiffen in his shorts. “Oh my god…” Brayden forces another doughnut into Tyus’s moth “I’m getting so…” Tyus felt his belly gurgle as he let out a loud belch. “UUUUrrraaaaPPP”

“You’re becoming a fat piggy” Brayden squeezes Tyus’s left moob while forcing new junk food into his mouth, Tyus began to sweat from under his moobs. “oh damn you plumped up nicely, let’s keep going” Brayden pulled out unlabeled jars of a chocolaty thick fluid, he shoves a funnel into Tyus’s mouth and pours the mixture into his mouth. It tasted so sweet and decadent, and it was causing Tyus to swell quickly.

“S-stop… I’m getting so f-fat!” Tyus’s alarm went away as he put his hands on his fat belly, he couldn’t help but play with the soft mass of blubber that had replaced his abs. Tyus didn’t know it but he had grown a double chin, softening and removing his once sharp jawline. Tyus tried fighting, but Brayden’s musk was too much for him to handle. Tyus’s body swelled, growing a light dusting of body hair. Brayden started to remove his tank top and shorts to show off the whale that had replaced the jock.

“Oh how do you feel piggy? Feel like being my submissive slob??” Brayden shook Tyus’s belly, causing it to jiggle, a sensation that was foreign to Tyus.

“I- I-“ Brayden gave Tyus’s nipple a tug, causing a surge of pleasure that made Tyus’s cock shoot a load. “I am your submissive piggy” Tyus moaned as he left a wet spot on the couch. Tyus’s mind went completely submissive and dumb, the muscled jock that was there minutes ago no longer existed, only a dumb obese pig.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I can't believe this is happening to me! It's so disgusting I can't stand it. And to make matters worse my big sweaty cock gets harder and more needy with every pound I pile on. When I started transitioning I was so hot. Perfect, really. My cock was only one inch. I was thinking of having the tiny thing removed, maybe. But my many boyfriends seemed to like rubbing it and slapping it as they came in my tight, perky ass. Everything was going so well! I was the girl I always dreamed of being, ultra girly, putting most cis girls to shame with how traditionally feminine I was, absolutely filthy, always down 100% of the time to please any guy that wanted me. Anywhere in public, I was never a prude. If a man lifted my skirt or dress to fuck my ass in public, I'd lift it higher for them and tell them to go as hard as they want. If a guy exposed himself at me and jerked off, I'd rush over to suck him off or offer my ass. I was the perfect girl! And then this happened.....

So, guys love to dote on girls they date. And I, boy crazy as I was, loved going on dates with as many boys as possible. Multiple times a day. I didn't really think my love of taking boys on dates out very much. More proof I'm a perfect girl--I'm pretty ditzy and stupid..... I was taking each boy out and they'd have one meal and that's it. I'd go from eating pizza, to bottomless pasta bowls, to a Chinese buffet, to all-you-can-eat wings. I couldn't very well disappoint my dates and not put on a show. Men love a dirty, pretty girl who can keep up with their eating, and drinking! I of course drank whole pitchers of beer with most meals. I started noticing I was getting kind of messy. I wouldn't wipe my face or hands off as eagerly, staying as pretty as possible mattered less than putting on a show and stuffing my face for these guys, knowing it made their cocks soooo hard to see me overeat!

I began belching, sometimes even drinking so much beer I'd soil myself, and just giggle about it. Overeating made me so horny. But I didn't realize how badly I was neglecting my feminine side..... I started forgetting my estrogen, I ate so much red meat and other foods it triggered my body to release testosterone. My cock started getting big, so did my testicles. Soon, I, this once petite pretty girl, was pushing 200lbs, hung bigger than most men that fucked me. My erections became impossible to hide. Worse yet, I'd ejaculate prematurely as the worst times. Like some horny junior high kid, I'd talk to a cute guy, and instead of being in control, sexy, dominant and confident in my body, I'd be chubby, sweaty, stuttering, and ejaculate mid conversation with no warning, having to apologize.....

Men still loved it, and found the grosser, fatter version of me equally as hot, but now a new issue arose..... The men that took me out on dates and fucked me weren't just gym dudes who liked to see a woman keep up once in a while, these guys wanted me fatter. I wasn't eating five meals a night like before. I was eating four or five meals at one restaurant, then I'd get picked up by the next guy and have to force down another four or five. I've gone from 210lbs to 340lbs in just six months. I'm ballooning so fast none of my old cute clothes fit. Nothing does. I wear clothes a few sizes bigger now because I know I'm just going to get fatter. It makes me so hard thinking of how fat and disgusting I'm becoming. I don't need my hands to cum at all, I just need to stuff my face and picture myself double this size and my fouteen-inch monster cock shoots rope after rope of cum, which I don't bother cleaning. I reek of semen and sweat all the time and my boyfriends love how bad I stink.....

I used to dance and be super active, fuck with loads of energy. Now I just gorge myself, making gross moans, belching and farting constantly, bathing only a couple times a month.... I don't really do my hair or makeup or try to look cute. I'm just a fat slob. I eat as men fuck me. I hardly move. If I try to ride them they stop me and tell me not to burn any excess calories. I just get chauffeured from date to date, eat so much I occasionally puke all over my big fat gut, only to order more and keep eating. I get fucked as I keep eating. I'm not a cute, sexy girl anymore. I never will be again. I'm a disgusting whale. A blimp, getting bigger every day, piling on as much lard as possible to please all of my feeders. Someday I'll be immobile, and they'll probably take turns caring for me as I stuff my face, hooked up to oxygen, my heart pounding through my chest. My cock over twenty inches long but so buried in lard it probably just looks like feminine little nub again. I'll have no choice but to get as fat as I possibly can, to satisfy their cocks, and my own..... I know it's my destiny. I already get completely winded just walking up one flight of stairs. My heart pounds like I ran a marathon, my belly and saggy tits drenched in sweat. I'm so disgusting. But I have no choice..... Like I said, I'm the perfect girl, I'm only interested in being exactly what other boys want me to be. And if boys want me to be a giant pile of moaning lard? A good girl like me has no choice....."

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Just wanna say that I despise Cyprus as a person. If he started stalking me I’d change jobs and countries and get a restraining order against him. I hate you for making him (I’m kidding) and I hate that I read his story even though I can’t stand him. He gets worse and worse the more I learn. This transphobe can catch these hands.

Oh yea this dirtbag absolutely can catch your hands, he is a boxer and a terrifying one that is. I created him to be someone who talks big and has the fighting credentials to match it 🔥

THere must be an anti Yves and Blanche, hence Cyprus is created 💔like yin and yang, they balance each other outs

naw im just kidding i actually made Cyprus because i was kinda craving for some clout at the time, but my soft yanderes that i like writing about kept flopping and i couldn't get as much notes as i did when i reached my peak in like 2022 ish,

so i tried another approach: literally, trend hopping,, Cyprus is a literal trend and a tiktok thirst trap genre

so cyprus is actually an amalgamation of like common Yandere traits that blew up in tumblr, like what seem to make a yan 'smexy' and super desirable, like a sexual predator but hot and mean. I fr didn't like this mans and it was damn hard not to make him 100% an unlikable edgelord but i try to get that balance, to push myself out of my comfort zone in writing

and it did worked, the proof is that now in this new generation of CKB ocs, Cyprus is my most popular oc and there are a lot of yalls simping for him in my asks like slobbering on his knob type

so i decided to fuck with him and like curse him with really crappy traits like homophobia and transphobia, ykno to try and direct traffic to Yves and his Yandere line (blanche, Leveret, Monty)

but also to see if i can tread the line of making him as divisive as possible, like yea a vocal lot of yall hate him for being a shitty man now, but i KNOW there are a good handful of you guys who still would slob on his knob, i monitor my asks 🫣🫣and i seem to summon a bunch of "i can fix him" readers too

but i remember about this one anon who said "cyprus is the type of man we all love in theory but avoid so hard irl thats why we dickride him on this blog so bad , escapism go brr" and i guess that's pretty much why he's so popular and even if i make him so crappy, there are still people who would beat on his meat

but anyways moral of the story, STAN YVES INSTEAD

[desdemonafictional]

The Woman Called...

Fujiko Mine was born into a family that did not consider itself poor, on account of they could afford to eat meat every week or so, unlike some families they knew who couldn’t afford it at all. Those were poor families, her mother would have said, not us.

Of course, they had been poor. They had been dirt poor. They had been secondhand shoes bought three sizes too big so you can grow into them, get slapped for breaking a dish at dinner, too-proud-to-beg poor. Whatever warm family feelings they might have had for each other were strained to the point of fraying by the time Fujiko entered middle school.

At age 12, Fujiko had looked around herself at the world—at the shining elegant faces in advertisements, at the delicate patisseries where it would have cost as much for one cake as her mother spent on dinner for all four of them, at the sneering faces of girls who had more than she ever had just for the stupid fortune of being born to a better class of family—and Fujiko Mine had come to a conclusion. Her conclusion was thus: the world was demonstrably not fair. And if the world was not fair, then what was the point in playing fair while the other side went on cheating?

Dumb luck might have given other girls family connections, money, and an easy life, but Fujiko had something most of them didn’t.

Fujiko was beautiful.

At age 14, she measured her bust religiously, noting the centimeters of growth and calculating her seams. She searched her face for imperfections and rationed out dollops of pale foundation as if the cream was gold. She walked tall, wore her hair short, and stood on tip-toe when she couldn’t wedge rags into her shoes. Men had already started to notice her years ago, but the extra help never went astray.

One day, on her way to school, there had been a man waiting for her a few blocks away. He explained that if she would come to dinner with him, he would buy her a beautiful new jacket for the winter, so she wouldn’t have to wear that old ratty one with the patches. Of course, she said yes.

He was a very nice man, as far as such men went. He took her shopping. He told her she was beautiful.

“You probably expect a story like that to end in tragedy,” Fujiko said, examining her cigarette with vague contempt. “Poor dumb little girl in the spider’s parlor. What was he hiding, what did he do, how did he hurt her? Well it was fine. Nothing happened. After a few weeks he went back to his sad little housewife in Kanto and lived a normal life, probably never thought about Fujiko Mine again. But I had the jacket.”  

There’s an impermeable barrier that separates the poor from the rich, and it’s all quantified in clothes. The better you dress, the more people believe you belong. A ragged slob off the street would be turned out of a high-end store before she even knew what was happening, for fear that she’d pocket something nice with her greedy nasty little hands. But the same girl, dressed in a nice coat that obviously cost a salaryman quite a lot of money? Oh, why would she steal? She’s obviously doing just fine. So come in, come in, if you have money to spend.

“I worked my way up,” she said, and took a drag. Her elegant red nails alighted only delicately on anything she touched. “Shirts first, then dresses. Just slightly above my class. Once you have slightly nicer down, you can shift another class up. But people notice if your shoes are wrong, it’s one of the first things to give you away when you don’t belong. Shoes are expensive. They’re hard to fit in your sleeve. So I worked at the hostess club for months to afford a pair of new leather shoes.”

At the hostess club, she met a lot of new types of men. She was too young to work at an above-board club, so she worked at a shadier one instead, the kind where touching was alright. At least up to a point. Some of the girls would call security on a handsy drunk, but Fujiko didn’t want their help—she’d deal with it herself, on her own terms. Anyway, a man who was busy grabbing a breast was probably not paying attention to his wallet. And he probably wouldn’t remember how much he spent, either.

She bought the shoes. She thought about quitting. And then she stayed anyway.

“I was good at getting men to buy drinks,” she said, “and I had a system for swapping out empty glasses with half drunk glasses. I used to hide them in the corner of the cushions. Or under my skirt. I was very good at getting other people to drink.”

She ashed her cigarette with a careless flick, her nails like quick shining beetles taking off.

“But it turned out one of those men I’d been getting to drink was a Yakuza mid-boss, the ambitious type, you know? And so one day this asshole pulls me aside as I’m leaving work—”

Sunglasses at night, that’s mostly what she remembered. Long jacket, with the sleeves pushed up to show the edges of tattoos. He’d smiled like a tiger on a diet, ever so polite, banked hunger and a rough rolling accent.

“I took the job, of course,” Fujiko said. “It wasn’t like I was attached to the guy, or anything. I let him take me home after a shift a few nights later, and when I had him alone and naked, I opened the front door for his rival. The trouble is,” and here, she contemplated the glowing cherry between her fingers, “once you’ve taken blood money, you can never really go back. You know how it is. There were always more men in sunglasses, always more jobs, always more money, and always more things to hide.”

She finished off the cigarette with a long, contemplative drag.

“One day you look up, and you realize that little by little, without noticing it, you’ve become someone who can’t go home.”

The silk of her dressing gown fluttered translucent and pink against her thigh as she stood. The wide high window glowed verdant with morning light over the garden that several men worked quietly and invisibly each week to maintain. She stood in front of the glass, staring out, still except for the restless flicking of her fingers at her side. Her shoulders tensed, like a cat watching a bird just out of reach.

Then, of course, there had been Poon. He hadn’t called her beautiful. He’d called her clever. Deadly. He’d admired that she was ruthless. He’d opened his hand, his portfolio, his heart, and offered her the chance to be more than set dressing. To take partnership in the business where for so long she’d been only pawn. Teacher, lover, friend—escape, ensnarement, she had wanted to be him, and yet she had wanted to be more than him. Everything she had was his, and the worst part was that he held nothing back. He gave and gave, and the more he gave the less she had.

They’d been unstoppable. They’d been a cataclysm. They’d been the golden pair. And when he died, he’d gutted her of everything he’d been.

“I liked killing less than the hostess work,” she remarked to the window. “But the hours were better.”

And then she turned, and smiled a wicked, insouciant smile.

“Of course, those days are long behind me,” she purred. “I’m a good girl now.” She dripped like water across the lounge, graceful legs and trailing silk, to climb into the lap of the man who meant to hire her.

 “Silly me, how I’m going on. I’m afraid I’ve quite lost my head around you, Mister…?”

“Lupin,” the man said, and his eyes reluctantly tore up from the place where her thigh was pressed to his side. “The Third.”

“How distinguished,” she said. She drew her fingers up along the length of his neck, grazing his ear. His pupils dilated. It didn’t matter what she’d said, really; he wasn’t listening. Men like him never did.

Easy money, she thought. I’ll have him chewed up in a week.

“So what was it you wanted done, exactly?” she asked.

[losing-weight-fast]

Day 2 and again I binged I’m so fucking mad at myself but I just can’t anymore. I need to eat tomorrow so I don’t pass out at work but Sunday through Friday will be better. I also did not finish all of my exercises yet again. Here’s what I ate today

Soy bacon - 190 cal

Bone broth - 160 cal

An orange - 45 cal

Spaighetti and veggie meatballs - 500 cal

Liquid IV - 45 cal

Total - 940 cal

I burned 690 calories so definitely not close to as many as I ate. I went shopping for oh r some weight loss snacks with my grandma so hopefully they’ll help me. I got sugar free jello, 70 calorie fiber bars, premier protein powder, and green grapes to freeze. I plan to only eat these foods, meat/meat substitute and liquid, and fruit any days but Friday and Saturday. Hoping that I didn’t fuck this up by being a fatass big back slob. Can’t wait to just loose the weight.

[poppy-metal]

i actually need to gnaw on patrick’s thick ass thighs like a dog chew toy it’s not even funny anymore

doing it after practice or a match so his legs are all sweaty and slippery and it tastes like salt under your tongue as you fully just slob on and bite into them and leave teeth marks all over them so when he wears slutty little tennis shorts everybody can see the bruises HHSGDHD(gets shot)

need to bite him like hes prime meat like prime rib i need to suck on his skin like a vampire and inhale his musk the fuzz of his hair tickling your cheek, the more coarse and thick it gets the higher up on his thigh you go, need his thighs framing my face like fucking earmuffs while he feeds me his cock or makes me tongue his balls im so serious im not playing with you.

[bigwishes]

Hi I hope you are doing better. I know you like posers so here's a good one for you. would you rather put on a poser that would turn you into an Asian twunk withe the confidence of 100 men. or would you rather put on a poser that will blow you up into a huge Asian bodybuilder who dreams of competing and going pro but can't because you have 0 confidence and are always embarrassed of you slight layer of bulk, horrible stench and inability to stop burping and rubbing your gut from a painfully bloated 6 pack?

Wow, Definitely the second one, it'd feel fantastic, best feeling would be to put them on, grow into the perfect bodybuilder, sign up to compete but comp day BAM spontaneous forced transformation an hour before I have to go on. Swelling up each second, starting to sweat like a pig, a stench filling the air before falling on my ass and letting out a massive belch, hell why stop at embarrassed sweaty meat head just commit to it and force me to become a huge Asian muscle slob.

[hes-a-rat-whisperer]

so I got a few asks of people wanting me to explain(?) my Peppino/Alistair ship? (some asked nicely some not so nicely)

and heck why not- I surely feel like going a bit insane about my ship!! (might be somewhat incoherent because feels)

Alistair and Peppino have a lot of things in common-

both of them are fairly anxious (Alistair moreso in certain situations- (like physical contact and when people get too close in his personal space)) both of them suffer from trauma, both of them are very hotheaded and tend to blow up in a violent way, both of them are middle aged men who really just want to do their thing and get people out of their hair (like srsly give them both a break-) and both of them are pretty impulsive

so right away, they have a pretty even ground! there's no doubt that they could get along in a platonic way, given that theyd probably agree on a lot of things! hence why, the ship is a work friends to close friends to lovers thing! UwO

however, they also have a lot of differences!

Alistair tends to put his insecurities and emotions in a box, lock it and throw it in a river- he never expresses them and instead represses them, while Peppino is very 'animated' and his feelings just kinda pop out! Alistair is more of a neat and posh person, while Peppino is more laid back and casual (and kind of a slob, let's be real)

and in a physical sense- height differences are always goode 👌

as I pictured in a comic I made- Alistair is a kinda sketchy butcher, who apparently sells his wares fairly cheap (cheap enough for Peppino to afford and even cut corners financially-) and that's pretty much how they met!

from then on, of course, Alistair comes over regularly to drop off meat deliveries and eventually, over time, Alistair and Peppino start talking-

granted, it probably took a good while for the intimidating, stoic and social activity avoidant Alistair and the intimidated, anxious, socially awkward Peppino to start talking, but they do- which leads them to discover that their first impressions weren't (exactly true)

Peppino pretty much feared for his life everytime Alistair came over and Alistair, well- he was convinced that Peppino would rather avoid him than to start conversation (which was fine by him, because he'd rather not talk to people either-)

their work relationship slowly got deeper and deeper, as their metaphorical walls begun to go down around each other and they each opened up a bit about their daily struggles-

Alistair was the first to extend a helping hand and started to do little friendly gestures- (like driving Peppino home after a near all nighter at work, giving some helpful advice about certain things, or literally just asking how his day was-)

Peppino, of course, would return the favor- driving him home, (like in that pretty old vespa comic I made-), offering advice and just asking about his day-

the point is, they were both starting to get to know each other on a deeper level than just "the grumpy guy who delivers meat" and "the nervous guy who runs a pizza restaurant"

and as for how they became more than friends-

honestly, THAT moment just kinda gets rewritten in my brain over and over- but one of my favorite possibilities is the "massage" storyline! UwO

they are both on the same level of anxious, romantic panic but express it differently-

Peppino is more or less obvious, due to his nerves- I don't really expect him to be the kinda guy who has a crush on someone and is able to actually hide it well-

once he realizes he has a crush on Alistair, he'd mostly be able to just go on as usual with their close friendship, being casual- but whenever he says something that could even remotely hint at his attraction, he'd go red faced, stuttery and panic within a moments notice! and thus, he'd start overthinking just about everything he says-

he'd also just in general pay more attention to himself- like, double thinking what he's doing with his hands, where he's looking at, what he says, what he does- just everything!

which would usually prompt Alistair to chuckle and ask if he's okay- asdfghjkl

Alistair on the other hand- you'd assume he'd be much more low-key, right? he wouldn't be a nervous, anxious mess?

wrong-

he's in the exact same boat as Peppino- but he's better at hiding the obvious

he manages to keep his robotic, neutral expression around him- but!

whenever Peppino causally touches his arm, looks at him a bit too long, or says something that could hint at closer affection-

on the inside, the man is s c r e a m i n g

and thus, he too starts to overthink everything!

however, more often than not, he calms himself in a pretty destructive manner-

he'd go into the thought process of "don't be an idiot. He doesn't love you. he never would- why would anybody?" and just tear himself down

which, actually, does help in making him calm down- however, that 'calmness' is actually just him giving in to his self loathing..

not good..

now- their dynamic-

they're both equally protective of one another! Alistair, immediately took on a protective role, feeling that he needs to keep this anxious little man safe- however, he's proven wrong when Peppino just deada** pulls out a revolver- (which makes Alistair crush even harder-)

Alistair's touch aversion eventually goes away with Peppino, making room for his touch starvedness to shine instead- (what I'm saying is, Alistair eventually can't physically be in Peppino's near without holding his hand, putting a hand on his shoulder or doing anything of this sort-

and Peppino goes from "HOLY SH*T HE TOUCHED ME-" to just relaxing imediately when he does (hugs for the soul UwU)

I just?? those two- those two- those tWO THOSE TWO!!!! <3

[ross-hollander]

In actuality, it's vampires...

...who are less refined in their feeding methods than werewolves. All undead eat people, but they can be ranked very simply by how efficient they are at it.

At the very bottom, of course, are ghouls; they confuse 'person' with 'meat constituting a body' and just eat the body itself. You can eat a body and leave the actual person wholly intact. Ghouls aren't very intelligent, though, and they're very stubborn. They preen their gowns and adjust their finery and sit down to feast on whoever has stumbled into their necropolis (a necropolis of a thousand can hide in the shadow of the mound on a shallow dirt grave- be careful), always fancying themselves the most uplifted of the dead, when really, they're the slobs of the whole bunch.

Vampires have a slightly clearer understanding, and know that the person-ness of a person has nothing to do with their meat. They suck your blood, sure, but that's because they need to eat you. It's practically ceremonial. What's feeding them, really, is the uncertainty; they ingest the blood, but they're nourished by the terror. That's also why they hunt at night. You lose meaning when life warps into a desperate rush for safety, for the warmth of a fire, for escape from the suspicious, threadbare, pallid mutterer hustling along in the rain behind you.

Werewolves, though- the smartest of the bunch, and nowhere near as scraggly as ghouls and vampires tend to be or become -they know how to gnaw a person bare of personhood. They don't need to lurk in grave-shadows or stalk on nighted streets. They make you think of yourself as meat. Meat that, specifically, is not going to outrun a pack of rangy-limbed, uncanny-eyed wolves pursuing you. They don't even need to eat you, really. If the suggestion plays deep enough into you (that there really is nothing to you but a body, a machine for attaining calories and continuing a genetic pattern), they can eat all the 'you' there is to you without so much as nipping at your heels.

[sporco-filth]

i started writing this story a very long time ago. it's probably only the second or third slob story I'd written at the time and i was still getting comfortable writing about kink stuff (because it feels so self indulgent to do so and embarrassing even if you're the only one reading it).

Still, it's decent enough and I just kept adding to it over the years so it's a pretty big work of writing (over 16000 words apparently which i just checked and am surprised about enough that i had to triple check it). Since it's so long I'm splitting it into pieces.

Synopsis: Lee is a neat freak and moves in with a slob called Bob. Lee realises he has a slob fetish and slowly but surely gives in to his desires.

Bob looked into his fridge and scratched his belly. He pulled out a large piece of cake and shut the door. He sat down on the couch, moving aside some empty takeaway containers from who knows when, and opened a bottle of coke. Cake and soft drink: the perfect breakfast. Flicking boredly through the TV, he thought how six months ago he'd never have been able to enjoy this. Back then he was dating Velma, a health nut and a clean freak. She was nice and all but he couldn't stand her nagging. Bob preferred to laze on the couch all day rather than tire himself out walking; his five main food groups were fatty, sugary, salty, carbs and meat; he didn't care about living in a pigsty and his prowess in belching, to him, was a symbol of masculinity. Velma had tried to whip him into shape, and for a while he was pretty close to giving in. But after a weekend with the boys he remembered all the best things about his old, bachelor ways and decided the relationship had to end.

Now, Bob can eat junk food till he's stuffed, burp long and loud, leave his dirty undies on the floor and never needs to wash again; the closest he'll ever get to sport is watching it on TV. Bob, finishing the last of his cake, let out a loud belch. He patted his prominent gut, the product of years of avoiding physical activity and following a strict diet of takeout, beer and never skipping dessert. He was very proud of it.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door and, rather reluctantly, got up to check. Standing there was a thin, fairly athletic guy holding a newspaper clipping. "Are you Mr Gutt?" He asked, reading off the paper. "I'm here to see about renting the apartment." "Yeh, that's me," Bob replied. "Come on in. What's your name?" "I'm Lee," he said. It was then that he looked up and saw the man in front of him in all his slobbishness. He was visibly surprised but made no comment. "So, uh, why are you renting out this place?" He asked, avoiding the elephant in the room. "My girlfriend moved out a while back. I haven't been able to find anyone since though." Lee thought he could tell why, but didn't say anything as he took it all in: the piles of unwashed dishes stacked high in the sink, the dirty laundry thrown about everywhere, the junk food wrappers strewn about, the overflowing trash cans, the bathroom that seemed like it hadn't been cleaned in years. It was a complete and utter pigsty.

Lee was oddly titillated by all this: the total abandon and laissez faire attitude, the heady stench of sweat and filth, the naughtiness of such indulgence. He knew he shouldn't agree, but he so wanted to, and there hadn't been any place with as cheap a rent in so good an area… He let his desires control him and soon found himself signing the deal. "I'll be moving in as soon as I can," he said. "I can't wait!" Bob was a little surprised someone so clean and thin would want to live in a place like this, he was a little concerned he might end up with a repeat of Velma, but he wasn't going to refuse an applicant willing to pay.

The next week, Lee had moved into the spare room. Still in his usual habits, he had a perfectly made bed, freshly pressed clothes hung neatly and was still following his regular diet and exercise plan. Bob was a little perturbed, but the cleanliness hadn't infected the rest of the house so he let it slide. Lee longed to join Bob in his slobdom, however, but couldn't muster the audacity to let himself go like his roommate.

Lee would get up early for his morning jog. Entering the living room, he'd see Bob asleep on the couch, TV still on from his late-night binge-watching, lap full of crumbs from his midnight snack, and Lee would envy that freedom Bob had to do as he pleased. Preparing breakfast, he'd see all of Bob's sugary biscuits as he got his muesli from the pantry, would see all his chocolates and chips as he looked for his fruit, and all the soft drinks and beer when he took his water bottle out of the fridge. His stomach growled, hungry for those delicious, calorific foods, but he refused that desire. Taking a shower, he'd notice the dirty socks and underwear that were scattered around the bathroom and the unflushed toilet. He longed to be able to live in that state of filth, to never have to bathe again and just revel in his own stench, but he couldn't…

Lee's runs gave him a chance to clear his mind of his desires; he couldn't live like that, he just couldn't. It wasn't his life. His life was clean, fit, healthy, hygienic, polite, neat, tidy, thin, fresh, pure…

But try as he might, the thought of what his life might be like if he gave into his desires plagued him throughout the day. During a dull moment in the office, his mind wandered from thought to thought. Soon he found himself daydreaming: there he was, lazing on the sofa, wearing nothing but a pair of old tighty whities, mouth full of greasy pizza, watching TV late at night. In his imagination, he grabbed a bottle of beer, took a swig, and belched. He patted his gut proudly… Wait, gut? Yes, in this fantasy, Lee had a beer belly that would rival Bob's: the product of an indulgent, couch potato lifestyle. Lee drifted back to reality and noticed how excited that fantasising had left him. Who'd have thought he could be so turned on by something so… dirty. Lee shook his head, it was just a silly fetish, nothing more. He put it out of mind for the rest of the day.

When he returned home, he saw Bob scrounging around the kitchen, looking for something to eat. He was always eating, whatever he wanted, whenever he felt like it. "How was work?" He asked, trying to decide between chocolate and doughnuts. "Alright," said Lee, watching as Bob ended up choosing both. "The usual." "Did you want anything?" Bob asked, proffering him the box of doughnuts. "Oh, wait sorry. I keep forgetting you don't eat this sort of food." Lee smiled. "That's ok, it's not like I'm offended or anything." Bob plopped himself down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, pushing aside a haphazard pile of trash in the process. "You remind me a lot of my ex: she was a obsessed with being healthy too. I can't understand people like you." Lee frowned. "What do you mean?" "I mean, why spend your life in misery when you can enjoy it and not worry about stupid things like making the bed or eating healthy. I tell you, you guys are obsessive." "I am not obsessive," protested Lee. "Sure you're not." "I'm not." "Prove it." Lee wasn't one to back down from a challenge. "Fine, what would you have me do?" Bob thought for a bit, he hadn't expected his challenge to be accepted. "It needs to be something kinda big, but nothing huge…" He had it. "I want you to sit down on the recliner, eat one of the donuts, drink a can of soda and you can't move or fidget until this episode finishes. And if you burp or anything, you need to let it loose and not say 'excuse me' or anything." "That's hardly fair!" "It's nothing, unless you really are obsessed with health and all that trash." "Fine, I'll do it." Lee sat down on the recliner, and picked up a doughnut from the box. He pulled the chair back and got into a comfortable position. Though he'd never let Bob know, he enjoyed the feeling of the soft, worn cushion on his bum. He could even feel the crumbs left by Bob from countless nights of snacking in that chair. He looked at the doughnut, the dim light (one of Bob's undies had inexplicably ended up on the hanging light) reflected off the sugary glaze. It looked so tempting, so sweet, so… unhealthy. He took a bite. It was heavenly. He savoured the sweet taste as he slowly chewed and swallowed. Then he ate more and more until the doughnut was all gone. He imagined it sitting in his stomach, all the sugary, fatty goodness. Then he took a swig of his soft drink. The bubbles tickled his throat and the sugary taste tingled his taste buds. After another few sips, he felt a burp coming. As per Bob's rules, he opened his mouth and let out a sizeable belch. Nothing amazing, but still fairly impressive for someone who'd pretty much never burped before. "Not bad, Lee," Bob said with a smile. "If I trained you, you could become a real pro. Listen to this." Bob took a gulp of beer and released a huge, manly belch. Lee felt his face flush, but rather than focusing on Bob's burp, Lee thought about what he had just said: "If I trained you…" Lee imagined that: instead of running marathons, he'd marathon TV shows; instead of dieting, he'd be overindulging; instead of doing sit ups, he'd be sitting down; instead of burpees, he'd practise burping. It was almost more than he could dream of.

The two passed the remainder of the show in silence except for the odd burp here and there. Lee regretted eating his doughnut so quickly and he soon felt like another. The more rational part of his mind told him that this was just a fun game: once it was over he'd get back to his normal life. The other part of him so wished that this 'game' would never end. Eventually, of course, it did end, and Lee hopped up off the chair, trying to shake off any thoughts of continuing. "That was ok," he said to Bob, feigning disinterest. "But I prefer exercise over sitting around all day." "Suit yourself," said Bob. "But at least I've proved I'm not obsessive." "If you say so."

The next morning, as Lee was about to make his bed, he thought 'why?' Why bother making his bed when it'll just need to be messed up again? Who was he trying to impress? Did it really matter if he did it or not? If it didn't, then why not just leave it unmade? So Lee left his bed in a mess and continued his day as normal, the bed completely leaving his thoughts. When he went to bed that night, however, slipping into the unmade sheets, he felt an odd sense of freedom. As if he was rebelling against the rules, as if he was being a bit naughty not making his bed. Waking up, Lee didn't give a second thought to his bed as he got ready and soon leaving his bed unmade almost became a morning ritual.

About a week after his little challenge with Bob, Lee was walking home from work when he noticed a bakery that, in the past, he had always paid no heed. What caught his eye was a collection of glistening doughnuts in the window. Just the sight of them made him think back to that one he ate during the challenge and his stomach growled. It was going to be a little while to dinner, he thought, and surely it wouldn't hurt if he just ate one. Lee went in and bought a doughnut, glazed and sticky. As he walked he took a bite and was reminded again of the heavenly rush of sugar. He almost moaned in delight. He finished the doughnut before he got home and threw the wrapper in a rubbish bin, wiping his mouth clean so Bob wouldn't find out he'd been letting his diet slip a little. Letting it slip was a bit of an exaggeration, he thought. One doughnut was a treat, that's all.

Lee managed to hold back his desire the next time he passed the bakery, trying to keep his mind resolute against his hunger. He wasn't going to slide down the slippery slope of unfitness. But just the thought of that, of being unfit and fat and lazy, left him kind of excited. He knew, however, that it was just a fantasy; he could never live like that.

[multiversal-pig-outing]

@slob-multiverse

“Ah so you are this universes Queen?” A thin dark skinned woman asked as she looked at Hanasia. She clearly was a saiyan from her hair. But also it was clear she was a U6 softy.

*Hanasia rip some meat of some bone. Who then looked at the person who said that.* (BURRRRRPP!) Ya. What do you want? Or do you just have a death wish.

[sterekchub]

I’ve been in a MOOD lately (and Tyler’s pics on his IG in that suit were EVERYTHING) so - have a quick massive!Slob!Derek and waiter!Stiles that I wrote for our discord.  Like it or just want to talk some fat fandoms! Join us:   https://discord.gg/Egyuwx29 (18+ pleaseee) 

Derek waddles in one day at his usual time (Stiles knows to expect him- he's always pulled in at 12:00 on the dot, but now his walk to the front door gets longer and longer. Today Stiles watches him for several minutes have to lift his belly away from the steering wheel and swing himself sideways to get out...and he has to stop 3 times to catch his breath).

He sits down in his usual table (the one with a booth only on one side because Stiles had to unscrew it from the ground and push it far enough back Derek could fit his enormous belly in it, and the bench seat is the only thing wide enough to support his beanbag-sized rear end.)

He's still a panting a bit, red in the face and immediately chugs down the pitcher of soda Stiles brings him...doesn't even bother to pour it into his glass.

"Mmm...you smell like a fryer."

"Shut - *wheeze*-  up. This is the only suit that fits."

Stiles eyes the suit with amusement. The once white shirt is now off-white with sweat stains and grease stains and numerous stains from countless meals. There are 3 buttons missing and the shirt is several inches from covering the flab that spills out over Derek's waistband and nearly to his knees. Stiles hasn't seen him wearing his suit jacket in at least three years.

"And?"

"...and I haven't been able to fit into my shower for a week," Derek grumbles. "Stupid glass doors."  

He fails to mention his car is filled almost to the ceiling with fast food bags and Stiles can *tell* that Derek's had a sizeable breakfast from the way his remaining buttons are stained tightly and Derek keeps lightly rubbing the side of his gut with one hand.

Stiles only grins and hands him the menu, which Derek takes with sticky, sausage sized fingers. "Nothing a big lunch can't fix."

 ****

 Derek orders his usual - which means he burps out he'll have the burger and fries with a small coke. And as usual, Stiles brings over a refilled pitcher of soda, a fryer basket worth of fries and a triple-patty burger, kisses Derek on the cheek and tells him, "Get started on this, Big Guy. I'll start cooking the rest."

He's long since given up on the polite, slow bites of his former self, when he used to feign he was full and leave his meals half empty so he didn't get bloated and ruin his constantly trim figure. Now he digs in, grease and cheese dripping from the burger onto his sagging moobs. He barely takes a pause, shovels it all in, stops only to guzzle down some soda or let out the occasional belch, and goes back to eating.

When there are only a few fries left, Stiles has come over balancing several trays in his arms. Gnocchi, meat-lovers calzone, lobster mac & cheese, a full loaf of garlic bread...and Derek knows that with Stiles in the kitchen? He's loaded as much cream, cheese, and butter into the dishes as he possible can. 

It's been their flirting, on-and off game for years. Derek will push himself to the max and eat as much as he can, ignoring the crumbs  accumulating on the shelf of his moobs and belly or the pasta sauce smeared over his pudgy cheeks and triple chins, and then sits there as his belly starts grumbling and churning in protest from the heavy weight of all that food sitting in it. Stiles comes over and stands behind him, tells Derek to keep eating as he works on massaging out some of the fullness. Derek dutifully struggles to reach over his stuffed belly and reach for a few more bites- the effort of even that little movement in combination with Stiles' ministrations making Derek let out several long, loud farts. A few hundred pounds ago, he used to be embarrassed by it. He’d make his excuses and hurry off to the bathroom or try or clink his fork loudly against the plate to cover up the sound. He couldn’t hurry anywhere anymore, and he knew Stiles took the sounds of gas from his overworked stomach to mean one thing – his compliments to the chef for the rich, caloric overload. "Sounds like you have room for dessert."

"*Urrrp* give me *huff* a minute, Stiles. Don't think I *uaaarp*didn't notice the *ffffrtttttt* triple portion of gnocchi today."

*** He loses two buttons during dessert as he eats his way through the entire pan of tiramisu. Stiles does miss when Derek could slip away and meet him in the pantry or bathroom stalls for a quick make out session and sloppy blow jobs... Derek's long gotten too fat to fit in the restaurant bathroom, and the door to the pantry had also proven to be too tight a fit- even if he could easily get to his feet after such a big lunch without assistance.  And finding Derek’s dick buried in his fatpad and under his rolls of lard is a strenuous, soon to be impossible, activity by itself. So when Derek is done eating, Stiles is painfully hard but reluctantly helps Derek to his feet and walks him to his car, having to barely shuffle his feet to keep up with Derek’s slow waddle.  

“I’ll see you at home tonight?”

Derek nods, sweat already beginning to drip down his face from the strenuous, 200 feet walk to his car.

“I’ll bring home dinner.” Derek only burps in response.