#how to lose belly fat for men

[thelivinghealthypodcast]

https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-living-healthy-78238586/

The Dos & Don’ts of Fasting: Combating Obesity & Weight Management It’s 2024, Happy New Year to you and your family! I am blessed to bring you season 4 of the Living Healthy Podcast. With a new year come new goals, lifestyle changes, and planning for the future. One of the biggest goals involves weight loss. Fasting is a great way to shed some of those unwanted pounds. Fasting is more than a religious tenet. It is also a great way to get you on track to losing excess weight. In addition fasting detoxifies your body and resets your immune system. Tonight I will be discussing fasting, the correct way to do it, ways you can do it as well as the benefits that can be achieved. Please feel free to check out the latest merchandise at the Living Healthy Podcast store.

A link to therapeutic fasting Buchinger Wilhelmi https://www.buchinger-wilhelmi.com/en/

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[moondirti]

MDNI. dubcon. objectification. degradation. humiliation. guys being gross. female reader. fingering. cunnilingus. pussy slapping. brief aftercare. an absurd amount of filth for something so short.

price helping you get over your fear of humiliation by inviting the guys over and prying your pussy open for them, half-slouched on his lap with your legs held up in the air :( they’re so mean about it, too. cooing condescending compliments, curling their nasty hands around your jaw to keep your head in place as they pet your most vulnerable places, like you’re the winning pup at a dog show and not a whole human—entitled to any boundary you set, regardless of how your husband feels.

they pay no heed to your protests, though. actually, the men avoid addressing you at all. rather, all their personal, invasive questions are directed to price, who answers them with his own self-satisfied grin.

‘keeps clenchin’ around nothing, desperate thing. hole this willing deserves to be gaped. how often d'you stuff her?’ depends on if she's been good.

‘fookin’ drooched, cap. does she taste as guid as she looks?’ mm, better. smells like nectar too. take a whiff, son. don’ wash my beard afterward on the occasion, jus to keep her under my nose.

‘think i can thaw a winter’s worth of ice with this cunt alone. heat’s practically radiating off ‘er. pathetic slut.’ y’should see how much worse it gets after a good beating, lieutenant. swells up, and damn well sears my palm.

and of course they take it upon themselves to test the validity of his answers. kyle works four fingers into you, then his thumb, stretching you open for his probing, angling your hips up to the light so that your insides are illuminated for his curious eye. if price didn’t have his rough hands anchored to the underside of your knees, you would have kicked his prized sergeant off.

embarrassment washes your neck in warmth, lashes droopy with fat tears. all your husband does to comfort you is place a scratchy kiss to your shoulder, soft hushes tickling your skin.

then, soap intercedes to shove his nose to your mons. he doesn’t just take a whiff — rather, he sucks in the sweet-sour tang your slick provides, testing it in both scent and taste. his hot tongue laves over where kyle’s fingers had been, incisors nibbling at the ripe bud of your clit. mortifying pleasure sinks low, sloshing in your belly’s bed. though you did not expect him to be, he isn’t modest about it. soap presses completely into your pussy, muzzle lacquered with wetness that rivals yours.

your whimpers devolve into moans. loud, a little unhinged. you’ve always played at dressing them up around price, worried that he’d turn away if your face screwed too tight, or your pleasure made itself known beyond what directly serves him. it’s exactly the habit that got you into this mess; and as you lose yourself to the scene, you can feel his delight blossoming against your back.

ghost scares you the most. he lets you have your orgasm, towering behind the man between your legs, but does not let him revel in it, yanking him back by his mohawk at the first twitch of your toes. in the fervour, you have hard time remembering what you should expect. especially when he doesn’t get to it immediately, wiping the gloss off your plush cunt. his callouses rash you, gritty, abrading the soft surface of your skin. it is only when you wince do his eyes crinkle in a manner cruel enough to evoke what’s to come.

but it’s too late to prime yourself. his hand flies back, coming back twice as fast to strike dead centre between your legs. it hurts. hurts so much more than it ever has before, your body unused to unrestrained strength. you scream, throat mangling around the rough cut of it, fighting wildly against price until you manage to escape his hold. immediately, instead of running away, you twist backwards, burying your face into his neck, calming yourself by taking deep breaths of his cologne. something heady — leather, tobacco, sandalwood — bridges the synapses in your brain, numbs the pain, if only a little.

“shhh, little one. you’re alright. it’s okay. doing so good for us.” he soothes, rubbing your sweaty back. the world narrows to just you and him, his men reduced to mere afterthoughts. to be dealt with later — though you doubt the conversation will be anywhere near reprimanding, more likely to end with a bottle of scotch split between four, approving slaps to the captain’s back, than it ever will in your defence.

“n-ne- never a-ga…”

“come, now. let’s not be brash, mm. i promised them a pump each. ‘n’ what kind of host would i be if i didn’t make good on that?”

[yellowjestertfs]

Just another ordinary day

Been busy working on a longer project (as in 40k+ words :0) but in the meantime decided to publish another older story of mine with revisions and images. AI was being especially tricky on me this time so the images are not quite what I pictured but good enough. If anyone has any tips for making better images or is interested in proofreading my longer story let me know!

I woke with a start, my mind still groggy from sleep my vision hazy. It was one of those sudden wake-ups that throws off your whole day, the kind usually prompted by some bad dream or loud noise. Only there had been no such occurrence; my sleep had been peaceful and from what I could remember dreamless, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling something had woken me. 

No matter the cause I was up, and judging by the daylight creeping through my shades there was no point falling back to sleep. With a groan, I lifted myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The alarm on my bedside table informed me I had thirty extra minutes this morning to get ready for work. Never one to waste time I decided to have a quick wank with my extra time to try to release some of the stress my sudden wakeup had caused.

Something felt off as I pulled down my pants to reveal my dick, rock hard as it was most mornings. The type of feeling you get when you say a word over and over and it loses all meaning. Everything else seemed normal, my body was still just as average as when I went to bed, nice strong legs from a childhood of playing soccer and a slight beer belly from my time playing beer pong in college. My face looked the same as well, a generally generic face, adorned by light stubble which had grown in while I slept, and bags under my eyes from my draining corporate job. It was my dick that felt off, foreign, only that was ridiculous. It looked the same as it had since I finished puberty. Just over a foot long and proportionally thick, it was just as average as the rest of my body. Something about thinking of my third leg as average felt wrong but I chalked it up to the dregs of sleep. That was simply how men were, nothing strange about it.

Shanking myself out of my contemplative state I hopped into the shower and went about the act of washing away the sheen of sweat I had gained while I slept. I also took this time to rub one out, using the standard two-hand technique practiced by most men. My dick quickly rose to its full size, and within minutes, my tennis ball-sized balls were churning out cum. I thought back to an article I had read in high school that claimed the average male ejaculated a third a gallon of cum per climax, and judging by my admissions that seemed plausible. I supposed the amount coupled with the force accounted for the high rate of condom breakage, not that any but the bravest of women ever allowed for penetrative sex.

After maneuvering the shower head to force all the cum down the drain I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, paying special care to ensure that my dick didn’t cause the cloth to come undone. Suddenly I felt a wave pass over me. I felt immediately nauseous and light-headed and a strange sensation of deja vu. I realized this was the feeling that had woken me up this morning, then just as suddenly as it had come over me the queasiness vanished as did my memory of the event. I was left only with a vague sense of unease. Powering through the strange sensation I wiped down the mirror and was confronted once again with a visage that felt somehow off. It wasn’t my average face nor the obscene bulge hidden behind my towel, both of those were normal. My body too looked just as average as ever, thick cut pecs, prominent square abs, and bulging 22’’ biceps were nothing to write home about, although I supposed my time playing soccer had given my legs an extra boost elevating them from the standard 30-inch thickness to a respectable 35. Luckily for me, men are incapable of storing fat otherwise I might have a belly from all those beers I drank in college I thought to myself absentmindedly patting my six-pack. Still, in a world where most men have 250 pounds of walking muscle, I have always felt sort of insecure about my scrawny 230-pound body. 

Quickly forgetting about the strange sensation I finished my morning routine, electing to keep my stubble in the hopes of cultivating a more rugged look on my average face. I exited the bathroom and opened my closet, greeted by the sight of several rows of various dress shirts, embarrassingly all labeled as men's adult small. Putting on underwear was easy enough as with all menswear my boxers had a special compartment for my hose-like junk. A dress shirt too buttoned easily over my cabbage-sized pecs as of course all men's shirts were created for just the task. I was just in the process of squeezing my legs into billowing trousers when I felt another wave pass over me. My already precarious balance caused me to fall, and I caught myself on the edge of my dresser, only it wasn’t a dresser. Why would I have a dresser, I wasn’t a woman what would I do with clothing? Righting myself against what I realized was a workout bench I glanced down just to reassure myself of my nakedness. I wondered absently where the thought of me owning clothing had come from, what a preposterous idea, that would be like a woman walking around naked. I would be fired on the spot if I showed up in such an offensive garment. Casting the ridiculous idea out of my mind I grabbed my bag and headed off to work. 

Saying hello to my hunky neighbor as I passed I finally emerged onto the street. Despite my strange morning, the world outside my apartment appeared the same as it always was, men on their way to work naked, of course, pecs and dick bouncing as they walked, bare feet smacking against the smooth temperature-controlled cement. I joined the throngs of men crowding the sidewalks and waited at a crosswalk as men showing flesh drove by, their cars of course made specifically large enough to hold their bulk. I became just another face in the crowd, just another man on his way to work, bodybuilder frame revealed to the wind. The eye easily passed over my foot-long dick, the instrument not nearly long enough to garner any attention. Be they young or old, rich or poor every man was at least 200 pounds of muscle with a shlong to match and of course, all of them were naked, it was simply how the world was, how it had always been. Depending on the subway station I swiped my metro card and made my way to the appropriate train. As the train pulled I was buffeted by yet another wave and was instantly wracked with an intense pulse of nausea which disappeared just as suddenly as it had arrived. 

Releasing I had fallen down, but not knowing why, I stood back up to my full 7’10” hight and saw all around me men doing the same. For a moment the doors to the subway car in front of me looked strange, almost too tall but that didn’t make any sense. They stood just as tall as ever, the standard 9 foot hight, enough to allow most men to enter without hitting their heads. I knew of course that there were rare men who would still have to duck to enter the train car but for the vast majority of men who averaged around 8’0’’, ten feet was more than sufficient. I entered the car and sat down, my bare butt brushing up against the perky ass of a blond man with a round face on one side and a woman in expertly pressed dress slacks and a matching navy blazer on the other. As the train took off another wave stuck. This one merely caused me to clutch my head as a splitting headache appeared and then vanished in a second. The woman next to me was hit harder by the instantly forgotten wave of reality-altering force. Thrown off balance she bounced into my left pec, her head cushioned by the squishy yet firm muscle. Recovering immediately and feeling somewhat confused as to how she ended up pressed against me she apologized and distracted herself by pulling out her phone and flipping to the camera app to ensure her makeup was not smudged. Though the camera was pointed at herself I could see my reflection, my head towering over hers even in my sitting position. 

I certainly wasn’t ugly by any standard but I also wasn’t some model. My chiseled wide jaw was just about as handsome as every other man on the train, although the perfect coating of square stubble that had grown in during the night did lend me a rugged edge. The rest of my features were pretty mundane, clear and pore-less skin, thick square eyebrows and a dimpled wide chin were the default for men, as evidenced by the golden-haired Adonis that sat next to me. Even so, I always liked my piercing bright eyes and high cheekbones even though they were hardly rare in the world.

The blond man sitting next to me with the perfect lantern jaw got up at the next stop. Mine was the one after that. 

I exited the car and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time to ensure I wasn’t late. My work building looked the same as it always did, with large doors to accommodate male employees and in the lobby a giant bronze statue of a man holding the earth, his body naked and extremely well muscled and hung of course for the sake of realism. Despite my relative scrawniness I still used a male-designated elevator, the female ones not made to handle my weight or height. The several other men in the elevator and I had only made it a few floors before we were subject to one final and seemingly extra powerful shockwave. The weight of the changes enacted easily caused all the men even with their rock-hard muscles to crumple and we collapsed onto each other. My hand somehow ended up gasping the long penis of a 40-year-old accountant with a perfectly maintained salt and pepper beard. For a moment I motioned to let go of his member before reality snapped back in and I remembered my manners. It would be incredibly rude for me to begin a morning grope and not bring him to completion. In fact,  I had already made a major faux pas by not kissing my coworker hello. This error in tact was quickly rectified as the rest of the elevator ride turned into a make-out session. By my floor the sexy accountant I was giving a handjob to reached completion and I took his load as my breakfast. As I left he spanked my ass and stuck his business card between my butt checks. Guess he liked my elevator pitch. 

I went straight to my boss's office as was customary and gave the 350-pound silver fox a quick blow job before he transferred his abnormally large penis into my ass and fucked me while we discussed business. Turns out the reality-warping machine he had invested in had been broken into this morning although as far as anyone could tell no damage had been done nor had the machine been used. 

“Makes sense I told him" In-between moans as he obliterated my prostate. “I imagine we would know if someone were to fuck with reality.” 

My boss clenched his superhumanly wide lantern jaw and straightened up to his full over eight-foot height, both football-sized biceps flexed behind his head. “You're right on that account kid, today is yet another ordinary day.

[lovingbarbariancomputer]

You rewired your brain real good bud. Bet it’s gettin hard to concentrate on anything other than eatin big. How does it feel knowing you’re becoming a domesticated American fatboy? Bet it feels fuckin good, huh. you’re bred for it so It’s only natural bro. American men can’t resist domestication. It feels better than sex itself. Just look at yourself big guy. your dick is begging to rub against the underside of your fat belly. It’s begging to lose inches as you get fatter and fatter. As you become domesticated, it gets harder and harder to think about anything else. why would you want to think about anything else anyway? You’re a fatboy now

[godihatethiswebsite]

18+ – The 141 take bets on No Nut November

CW: alcohol, breeding kink, cam girl, edging, slight Ghoap

Frothy pints drip condensation onto tacky laminate in the back corner of the local pub. Four men glance around at their companions with self assured smirks, so sure it’s them going home with the generous wad of cash piled high in the middle of the table.

Only one of them is right.

John 'breeding kink' Price is the first to lose No Nut November, rutting into the pillow wedged beneath his hips less than a week in with a feral primality driven towards a singular instinctual purpose. Desperate grunts and growls muffled by soft plaid sheets mimic tender flesh trapped between drooling canines. All those years of self-discipline don't mean shit once he eyes a pretty young thing wobbling down the aisles of the shop with a basket full of formula and a ripe round belly – swollen, heavy, fixed to pop. Fertile.

Simon is the next to drop outta the race, earbuds keeping the siren songbird all to himself in the paper thin confines of his rustling tent; the shy dove with her dark flushed cheeks and whimpering mewls who posts on Thursday nights to get herself through university making his rifle-calloused palm keep pace with the sparkly battery-powered rabbit lewdly shlicking between her folds, the 'top donator' headline flashing victorious on his screen keeping her chanting his name with each shuddering orgasm. 

Kyle nearly makes it the whole month – stupidly proud of himself for it too. Stumbling out of the barracks last year at 3am wearing the evidence of the vampire he'd brought back from the bar (watch still stuck on Bogota time) having cut his chances off real quick. This year is gonna be different. Pure determination; a marksman’s precision. No more slip-ups. Too bad his cousin's stag night rolls around three days before December, the charming temptress spinning her seductive web in neon stilettos leading his intoxicated form behind a beaded gossamer curtain, a couple hundred poorer and his heartbeat in his pants.

Fast forward to the back of the pub.

A pair of twinned groans concede defeat to the youngest sergeant, muttered insults barked without bite into the dark malty liquid of their drinks with half hearted regrets at being bested. Yet while the other two may relent in their failed endeavors, the chastised clicking of a tongue stops Kyle’s outstretched hand from collecting his winnings.

Stunned eyes shoot towards the uncharacteristically chatterless Scotsman across the table. After all, no one ever suspects Johnny. Why would they? Big dumb mutt always flapping his gob, chasing after anything on two legs that’ll give him the time of day. The least serious member of the unit with a nose for mischief and a taste for easy women. Poor pup just can’t help it if he has trouble keeping his leaky red rocket to himself. There’s no point in even entertaining the idea really.

But that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Ever since basic – when he was just some punk kid from the outskirts of Glasgow spouting too many words with too much nonchalance. Mentally writing him off as anything but the squadron’s class clown. Counting him out before he’s even had a chance to tap in. 

They forget he’s one of them sometimes; honed, sharpened, regimented to perfection. A sniper’s focus mixed with advanced pyrotechnic chemistry. Analytical interest bottled in an understimulated mind. There’s a stubbornness in his veins that begs for a challenge – that thrives in the environment of other people’s miscalculations. 

Think he can’t do it? Watch him surpass expectations. Tell him not to cum for a month? Fucking bet. Thanks for the hefty sum sitting fat in his wallet. Tough luck boys. Next round’s on me.

Besides, it’s not like the other members know about the long nights spent with his head tipped back against the headboard fisting his angry red cock, edging himself for glorious hour after hour to relieve the stress of a hard fought mission. 

Well, except Simon that is…

Masterlist

[warping-realities]

Commitment - Part I

"I thought you liked my body."

Peter said with a slightly hurt tone of voice into the phone as he looked at the video of the overly muscular man that took up most of the device screen advertising a personal training studio that had recently opened near his apartment.

"I like you, babe, but it's just that you spend so much time at work and... well... I'll be honest, I've always liked your thin appearance... but in the last few months you've been growing a belly. It's no big deal ...but you know how much dedication I put into my body, just for you. A little reciprocity would be nice. Do this for me baby, I've already scheduled an appointment for you.

" Concluded the voice on the phone, belonging to Julia, Peter's longtime girlfriend. The two met while still in college and he always wondered what a woman with a sculptural physique and a beauty worthy of the catwalks saw in him. Not that he wasn't attractive, with his elegant face and slim body, coupled with the air of class and sophistication that many rich people seem to carry with them without even realizing it. Still, the difference between the two in terms of attraction was huge. Which made many people whisper that she was nothing more than a gold digger. But Peter preferred to turn a deaf ear to those comments because he really loved Julia and wouldn't accept that kind of conversation. In fact, he loved her so much that even against his nature he found himself putting on gym clothes and going to the address indicated in the pamphlet.

Furthermore, Julia knew him very well and had pressed the right button to force him to do what she wanted, appealing to his commitment to their relationship.

Arriving at the indicated location, Peter realized that the studio was a small room with some equipment and thus understood that Julia was thinking about his inhibitions when choosing that place. Despite coming from an influential family and being forced to participate from an early age in the most different social events, he had a real horror of exposing himself.

Therefore, a small studio like that would be the place where he would feel at least a little more comfortable. But perhaps she had purposely ignored another of Peter's horrors: intimidating muscular men, which was precisely the case with the gigantic guy standing with his arms crossed in the center of the room wearing the same shirt and making a pose identical to the one in the ad Peter had seen earlier.

Peter justified to himself that this would be the standard expected of a personal trainer, but that didn't change the feeling of absolute fear that had overcome him the moment he laid eyes on that figure.

The monstrous guy opened a smile that exuded so much self-confidence that it was overflowing with arrogance.

"Hey man, I'm Dan, you must be Pete, right?" The instructor asked as if he were intimate with

Peter and making the mistake that was perhaps the only thing that gave him the courage to speak out, calling him by his diminutive.

"Peter. I'm Peter Wexhan and I like to be called by my name."

"Wow man, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just wanted to break the ice since we're going to spend some time together." Dan said without letting his smile falter.

"I-I don't know if we'll go... I just thought about taking a experimental class." Peter replied.

"Nah, you'll see, once the iron bug bites you there won't be any return. So, the girl who arranged the class for you mentioned that the goal is to lose some belly fat, is that it?"

"Julia, the girl's name is Julia. My girlfriend and that's what she would like..."

"But what about you, what would you like? You are my client!" The truth is, Peter would rather be home. But he didn't have the courage to say that for fear of the big man in front of him and of

disappointing his girlfriend.

"I...that's what I want."

"Dude, you need to learn to assert yourself, man. And you know a great way to assert yourself, grow up!" Dan said, flexing his powerful muscles pushing his shirt to the limit, stretching it so much that it became transparent, exposing the glory that was hidden by the thin layer of fabric.

"I... I.." Peter began, not knowing what to say as he looked at that pile of stacked muscles with wide eyes.

"I'm kidding Peter. Who am I to say what you should or shouldn't do? Although I think a real man needs to know how to impose himself, I also think he also needs to know how to please a woman."

Once again, not knowing what to say, Peter preferred to remain silent. Giving Dan space to ask the question he would know was coming.

"So, Peter Wexhan... any relation to Senator Frank Wexhan?"

"Yes, I am his son."

"Wow, one of my first clients will be someone important."

"My father is important, I'm just a regular guy." Peter replied, knowing that as much as he wanted it to be real, it didn't actually match reality. After all, besides his father being a senator, his family was extraordinarily rich and Dan certainly knew that. But demonstrating more professionalism than the interaction between the two up until that moment made it clear that it would be possible, the instructor did not comment anything about it, preferring to continue the class.

"Let me work with you for a while and you will be anything but regular. And the best time to start is now. He responded with a new smile before putting Peter to perform the greatest physical effort of his life up to that point.

While helping him, Dan tried to start a conversation with Peter. He talked about cars, football, parties, all subjects with which the other had no affinity whatsoever.

"What do you mean you don't have a football team? Not even the one from your college?”

"It was never something I was interested in, sorry."

"Stop apologizing for everything man, although really in this case you have to apologize. Just kidding!!! But weren't you at least going to see the cheerleaders?" Dan asked, delving into another delicate subject, women. Julia had been the only woman in Peter's life and he adored her. He saw no reason to look at or even think about other women. So deep was his commitment.

Upon hearing this, Dan just smiled again and corrected Peter's posture, resuming his focus on the exercises. Making the latter amazed at how good the other was at his job and how quickly this was showing. At the end of the session his arms, shoulders and legs are looking slightly bulkier and he can't help but give himself a self admiring look in the mirror at how good looking he was making his opinion of Dan improve a lot. Sure, he was the kind of guy that Peter preferred to stay away from all his life, but now he saw that he could be someone fun and with whom he could interact. So much so that he ended up scheduling a new session for the following day. Saying goodbye to the other man with a hand shake and going home with the impression that in the end all in all, that was a great decision.

Upon arriving at the simple but comfortable apartment he shared with Julia instead of his family's currently uninhabited mansion, he found himself invaded by a hunger he had never felt before. Looting everything he had in the fridge and cupboards, and without taking a shower, he lay in the couch devouring everything he had looted while flipping through one channel after another on the television until finally stopping at a game of university football for his college team, which he began to watch, while he absently massaged his sore muscles, with a feeling of pleasure bordering on sexual. And that's how Julia found him two hours later when she arrived home.

"Hey babe... what's that smell? What's going on?? Peter you stink!"

That was her comment when she saw her boyfriend lying on the sofa in the living room, which at that moment was infected by the pungent smell of masculinity.

"Sorry babe, I got home from the and lost track of time." Peter replied as he smelled his ownarmpits and made a face. "Eww, I really stink."

"Peter, I can't believe you sat all dirty on my couch!"

"My couch, the apartment is mine and I can lie on my sofa and watch football however I want!" He

responded aggressively, scaring his girlfriend and himself in the process."

"Sorry babe, I don't know what came over me, let me take a shower and make up for it. I'll cookyour favorite dish for you."

The rest of the night passed without any major incidents, with the two having dinner and making small talk and ending up in bed where he rewarded Julia with the best fucking she had had in a long time.

To be continued…

[biggothbelly]

You know, I've watched you spiral out of control for years at this point. I remember first finding you back in 2016. None of us really knew it then because you were so much smaller in comparison to the mass of lard you are now, but you were already too far gone to go back. Year after year, I watched you shovel endless amounts of calories down your throat, blowing your poor belly up so many times with a disgusting amount of food on such a regular and consistent basis, that there was no question that you were gonna get huge. However, I don't think anyone knew just how far you'd take it. I mean, look at you. Every ounce of your body is covered in fat. That tiny gut was forced to blow up into the massive, turgid, hanging food balloon we see it as today. You've forever ruined your skin and put so many deep, long, eye-catching stretch marks on your fucking gut. You've grown into nothing but a walking garbage disposal, and I'm sure you could easily outeat several grown men and still be begging for more food. The most shocking part is the fact that even though you're so close to 300 lbs, your greedy ass still wants to keep going. What's it gonna take to stop you? 300? 400? 500? What number could possibly scare you at this point? 600? 700? 800? I mean, if you're gonna go that far, you might as well just make a spectacle of yourself and go for an even 1000 lbs of pure blubber and lard. You'd be more relatable to a whale than a human at that point, especially with how much grease and junk it would take just to make you feel not hungry. No, not full, definitely not stuffed to the gills, but just enough so you can go without eating for more than 20 minutes. Let's just face it, you're fucked. You were fucked the moment you willingly decided to stuff your face for the first time because you wanted to see how good it would feel. Now look at you. You're an ever-growing blob that's just can't help themselves. You're never gonna try to lose the weight because you love being a fat slob so fucking much. You love how good it feels to eat and eat and eat until your stomach is begging you to stop and the weight of your poor, overfilled gut is pinning you down, so you couldn't even get up to get more food if you tried. I'd love to see you try to prove me wrong, but we all know you wouldn't last a day trying to lose weight.

This is the most inspiring ask I’ve ever received hehe tbh reading this made me hungryyyyy idk what I’ve done to myself tbh 😅 if went from something fun and every now and then to having to constantly feed my belly bc I’m always hungry and always so lazy I barely want to get up. I’ve given myself quiteeee the food addiction at this point all I ever do is think about eating and growing this belly. The idea of ever having to lost weight scared me bc I know I couldn’t handle it and I don’t think my belly would let me 😳😵‍💫 it’s hard lifting this gut around daily it’s so heavy my back and knees hurt all the time and a new thing I noticed is that my hips are starting to hurt when I walk. Now walking is getting harder and harder 🐖 I always feel like I have to sit my fat ass down. Who knows maybe one day I’ll be on my 600 pound life 🥴🫠 I have a seriousssss problem it seems hehe and you guys keep enabling me hehehe

[trueshame]

Man stripped naked during street fight

Location: Russia 🇷🇺 (city of Chelyabinsk) Year: 2014 Genre: Stripped Naked

The street fight between two men resulted in losing clothes by one of them. He kept fighting naked, but eventually decided to pull back.

The Naked Man (NM)

The naked man is definitely younger than his opponent, but his exact age is unknown, same as his identity. We menaged to perform some face recovery but it's still too blurry.

The young man was winning the battle almost at every point: he was faster and was punching stronger. The tables have turned when his opponent started to pull the man's pants...

At this point it began clear the man was not wearing underwear.

Half naked, he was pushed to the wall but he didn't lost his vigour even after loosing his shirt and becoming completely naked. He served a strong serie of punches to his opponent, exposing and bending his ass to the camera.

During the naked fight, the man has also exposed his body quality, especially fat rolls on his belly, untrained chest and weak arm muscles: something that couldn't had been seen when he was still wearing clothes.

Soon the naked man realized that he probably looks extremely stupid and silly fighting naked and decided to pull back from the fight. Then, his visibly wounded victim striked back and made the naked man to flee, exposing his genitals tothe camera.

The video ends shortly after. It is unclear how it all ended. We know that the man's shirt was lost and his pants was torn, which means he had nothing to wear. We believe that the women on the video who was defending the man was his girlfriend and that she helped him get some clothes after the fight.

Clothed People

There were several clothes people around the naked man, witnessing his humiliation: camera man, the man's opponent, the opponent's companion, the naked man's gilfriend. There were also some neighbours watching from trough the windows at their apartments. And one neighbour was leaving the building during the fight, looking at everything from up close

Location

We couldn't find the exact location but we know it happened in the Russian city Chelyabinsk.

[xxruletheworld]

i hate being fat bc im not built “pretty” fat.

yall know that women are the most criticized for being ugly, right? and that even in the ���body positivity” community or wtv u still need to be a certain kind of “ugly” to be liked?

Well, I hate this.

When you are a fat woman, the “body positivity!!! all women are pretty!!!! everyone is perfect!!!” gang will only accept you if you either have a pretty face, or ur “fat” body actually is like this:

1) You have not too much fat in ur belly

2) Your arms only have a little bit of fat

3) You have big thighs (bc now is considered hot)

4) You have a big ass

5) You have massive boobs

6) Due to not having too much belly fat, ur waist shows no u have an hourglass figure or a pear shaped body

7) You don’t have too much face fat, and if you have, it must be just the right amount for your face to be cute

AND IM LITERALLY LOSING IT BC THIS IS HOW THE AVERAGE FAT WOMAN IS PORTRAYED IN SOCIAL MEDIA, THEY PORTRAY US “HOT”.

Your average fat woman is not hot or built like that, we dont need to be hot, we are just fat and i hate that people need to portray us in a sexualized way to be accepted.

(btw this r some examples, the last pic is the most used when men say they like “fat women”)

[cherryxblossxms]

Masturbation May - Day 4b: Dry/Pillow Humping (Nanami Kento)

A/N: The lovely @peachsayshi suggested Nanami for day 4! This was such a hot concept, I go nuts for stoic men just losing their composure, and especially imagining Nanami just needing relief so badly that he resorts to pillow humping?? Whew I am not ok 🥵

Featuring: GN reader || Nanami x reader

Warnings: masturbation; sex dream/wet dream; dry humping to pillow humping; cumshot; sleepy horny Nanami~

Word count: 1315

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It was a rare morning in which you weren't by Nanami's side. Although he was usually up earlier than you, it was also his day off, and something in him prompted him to sleep in today. You were supposed to be home too, but he vaguely recalled you receiving a notice regarding support in a mission.

Nothing out of the ordinary or worrisome, just assisting some student sorcerers going out for the first time. You'd given him a quick kiss before heading out the door, and Nanami had decided to settle back into the sheets, enjoying your fleeting warmth from the fabric as he slipped back into dreamland.

Nanami expected his sleep to be dreamless; he rarely had dreams anymore, perhaps because of the things he saw in his day to day life exceeded what his mind could probably come up with. The last thing he wanted was to dream of curses. Thankfully, his subconscious seemed to be filled with thoughts of you today, seemingly already missing your presence. And his dreaming self, with its lower inhibitions and less restrained desires, gladly accepted it.

He dreamed of the way you two would have woken up together, sleepy kisses with lots of giggling in the early morning light, slowly getting deeper and more passionate with time until he was climbing over you. Wandering hands tracing the edge of muscles, pressing into fat, memorizing the shapes of each other as if you both hadn't done it before. Warm bodies would press against each other, rubbing and grinding and preparing until he could sheath himself in you and become one.

He would always start slow, ensuring you were comfortable and ready for him to move before doing anything else. And once you gave him the okay, he'd work up to a pace palatable for both of you, just taking his time to properly love you as you deserved. This kind of rare morning where you two could just take your time, was a time for love making. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed pushing your limits too (when you asked for it), going as rough and fast as you asked of him. But this was truly his favorite, having no time limit to just taste and enjoy your body, working his hips slow and deep.

Unbeknownst to Nanami in the conscious world, his hips had started moving to the pace of his dream. He had turned onto his belly at some point in his sleep, and his cock was rock hard, precum spotting in his pajama pants and rubbing up against the mattress deliciously now. The friction simply added to his dream, and he continued, wanting to pleasure you to the best of his ability.

You were holding him now as he continued to thrust, fingers tangling in his hair the way he always loved, soft kisses covering his jaw and neck, and your sweet moans were telling him you were close. So was he, and he continued his pace, knowing the longer he drew it out, the sweeter the release would be. It was so close now, your lips moving against him, telling him you were going to cum, telling him not to stop, how close you were, and he could feel the telltale signs as you tightened around him. Just as you tipped over the edge, he moved to follow, balls tightening up in preparation and then–

Nanami's eyes blinked open slowly, vision blurry at first but quickly adjusting as he caught sight of your empty side of the bed. Your pillow was missing, but it took a moment to see that he'd dragged your pillow down into the sheets at some point, squeezed between his legs and pressed up against his cock. He took a deep breath, realizing now that it had only been a dream, that orgasm that he'd been chasing quickly fleeting. He could almost laugh at himself; he wasn't sure the last time he had ever had a wet dream, if ever. And all because he simply missed your touch.

Just thinking of you made his cock twitch, and he realized he was still hard in his pants, aching for relief. The problem with missions was that, even in simple cases, it was sometimes impossible to guess how long one would be gone, especially when it came to teaching the students. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand to check for messages, but the only thing you'd sent him was a quick update from before going in to the veil, and no sign of having come out yet.

Nanami took a moment to consider his options. He could decide to ignore his boner, opting to take a cold shower and move on with his day to complete some errands. Or, and this was the option calling to his body, he could continue with where his dream self left off, humping the pillow to completion. After all, it was already dirtied with what precum had leaked through his pants onto the material, and he knew he'd be thinking of you all day anyway. What was one more item to clean, if it meant a little more peace of mind until your return?

Finally, he settled for the latter, setting his phone down and tossing aside part of the sheets and blanket. He didn't pull his pants down, trying to keep a little of the mess contained, and pressed the pillow closer against himself. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as having you against him, but for now, it would do.

He turned onto his belly again, his cock sandwiched between the pillow and his body, and began to rut his hips one more time. He could feel the waistband of his pants rub against his sensitive head, and he changed the angle of his thrusts to chase that feeling, getting as much friction as he could.

It was harder to build up pleasure awake rather than asleep, now that he was putting his muscles to work, but he tried to remember what happened in his dream. He thought of making love to you, filling you over and over again with his love and his heat, carving his shape into your body. He thought of all the ways you showed him your love, the types of kisses you gave him and how you held him as he pleasured you. And he thought of the way you called his name when you came, how sweet the syllables sounded in your voice, like he was your personal god delivering pleasure unto you.

Eventually, his orgasm started to crest the horizon once more, and he increased his pace. He gripped his own pillow now, fucking hard against the mattress until finally, his cock throbbed hard, oozing cum slowly but surely. He let out small grunts with each throb, humping the pillow a little longer, then finally reached a hand down to squeeze out the last few drops of cum through his pants. Thankfully, his pants had mostly caught his mess, but a small stain had formed on your pillowcase, and Nanami made a mental note to wash it as soon as he could stand.

Relief filled his body and Nanami rolled over, letting his body settle down now. Pillow humping was a first for him, but you always seemed to find new facets of him as your relationship grew closer. Admittedly, it was a little embarrassing, he couldn't be entirely mad; if there was anyone he wanted to dream of, it would always be you. However, his orgasm only served to sate his lust for you, and now he just ached to have you back in his arms. Finally feeling refreshed, he quickly sent out a text to you, telling you that he hoped the mission was going well and for you to be safe on the journey home, before finally starting his day, eager for your return.

[beer-in-beef]

Since he retired from sports, Dan had a lot of time to spend at the beach. It was all to easy to let himself go, just lying in the sun with the other blokes working on their tans. He didn't know how the other men got so big but he was soon to learn.

His formerly washboard abs were the first to get smothered by a health layer of fat. His belly kept growing and pushed out in front of his pecs, slowly losing the fight with gravity and hanging down past his waist. Bulging pecs lay on top of his gut, his thick arse filling out, his whole body growing wider covered with a sensual layer of chub. But feeling himself grow bigger only made Dan excited for more.

Fully devoted to pleasure, the weight kept piling on as he got fatter by the second. Hour after hour was spend stuffing himself with greasy fried food all washed down with ice cold beer. He had to buy new shorts every other week. The other beach pigs could barely contain themselves, telling him how hot he was, offering to rub sun cream in, giving a slap on his hefty butt cheeks.

Maybe it was his competitive nature but Dan made himself the biggest heaviest hog by the sea. He was truly enormous and while he kept his strength the only work out he got was intimate with other big bears. He made it his job to feed up the lads and they were all too pleased to grow massive like him.

[cedarswood]

So Let Me Get This Straight,

Characters hate black girls but love white girls that use aave in their fanfic and base their personalities off of being white and innocent with an edge. They can’t resist how light and white your skin is you’re practically perfect for them! All because you’re a white girl. Even better when you use black and Asian culture to make the “subtly” white reader badass.

Speaking of which, why would Korean characters want a Korean girl when they could have a white girl who gives herself a Japanese “aesthetic”, and somehow manages to give every Asian character she writes for Japanese traditions? As if they share the same culture? Screw research, it’s just a headcanon, not like it’s hurting anyone.

They like racist white girls!

Characters hate fat girls but adore the skinny girls that go out of their way to attack living, breathing fat people for existing in fandom. They love that you’re brave enough to tell them the truth. Letting these girls know that they’re ugly, fat, and undesirable. Even though the fictional character in question doesn’t have a hateful bone in their body and fights for everyone.

How can Nanami Kento not bust a nut in his jeans? He loves it when you’re terrorizing real fuckin people just to win his 2D cock all for yourself.

On top of that, these characters love that being skinny is your entire personality. Come to think of it, you never let them forget that they bagged a skinny white girl. That’s all you talk about! The belly that bulges when he fucks you, the flat stomach he can’t stop touching, your thin fragile body that’ll snap like a toothpick if he hugs you too long. Et cetera, et cetera.

They like skinny white girls!

These characters can’t stand the thought of dating anyone but a white girl. Don’t matter if they’re Japanese, Mexican, Black, Chinese, etc.! They want a white girl that fetishizes their entire race. Fuck the fact that some of these characters have storylines about facing racism and discrimination. All they care about is dating a white girl who can’t stand the thought of a fictional character loving women of color.

Besides, according to y’all [racist white girls], most of them would rather be gay than date black or brown girls. Which is why y’all ship them with their buddies, hell even the men they hate in canon! But never the black & brown girls in the series. Cause that’s just weird and wrong and she’s most likely in the way of their relationship.

That’s why it’s okay for you to wake up and start your day finding new ways to subtly refer to your whiteness in your x reader fics. Fics that you hound people to reblog and spread so you’ll get a wider audience. But then again, the bigger your blog, the more white people you’ll have to send after poc creators for calling you out.

They only love racist white girls!

Characters that are written as these insanely strong men suddenly become so mean-spirited and disgusted at the thought of dating anyone with fat on them. All that strength they’ve built up disappears at the mention of a fat girl liking them. It’s impossible to imagine Toji Fushiguro lifting a fat girl, Ken Ryuguji is now as strong as an infant. Bruce Wayne has trained to lift thousands of pounds but can’t possibly pick up a fat girl who loves Batman.

No no, they’re only able to use all that strength to hold their skinny white girls like babies. Not wanting their tiny white feet to touch the ground for a second, or else they become dirty. These men gained that strength, not to protect the world or destroy it, but to make their skinny girls feel so small and dainty in their presence. To protect their skinny white girls from the delusional fat girls who are jealous of them and can’t understand that they’re not desirable until they lose weight.

They only love skinny white girls!

My point is more than clear but I’m going to say it again. It’s mind-boggling that plenty of y’all go out of your way to say people don��t belong or can’t have fun in fandom spaces. All because they’re not white or skinny. Truly believing that a hateful piece of shit gets to decide who’s more deserving to write or fantasize about imaginary characters that wouldn’t even like you based on canon material.

You feel so entitled to make skinny white people the default that you harass and dog-pile people just for making their own spaces. Reminding people that unless they’re white and skinny, they can’t enjoy shit. All to be “chosen” by a fictional 2D character.

Go to hell. Don’t pass go, y’all are disgusting human beings.