#it just feels kinda weird to me how a fat and/or hairy body is almost always pictured as the ''aggressor''

[darthlenaplant]

Well, I will just say it loud and outside the tags: Fat characters should be the object of carnal desire and especially in the understanding of them as a bottoming partner more often. Severely underrated dynamic and all that jazz.

Sometimes you have to read pornographic fanfiction about a middle aged British man who is not conventionally attractive and/or ugly. For the soul

[bodyswapmischief]

The Cabin Boy

(Spring Break Pirates 10 of 14)

So, it finally, happened. Today, I woke up and was 305lbs. This fucking spell has more than double my weight. I started out as small sexy young twink, barely reaching 120 pounds. Now, I'm this big fat hairy middle aged man. Mr. Black as been more forceful in his feedings, I think he's getting close to his end game.

As, for me, I fucking struggling to find away out of this situation. After what happen to Will, I knew I had to be more careful. So, I been acting friendly towards Mr. Black and his little snitch Eric. I've been pretending that my mental state has been greatly affected by the boat. Acting like a dumb, sex, and food crazed fatass has let me fly under the radar. And, given me a lot of time spent in Mr. Black's quarters.

So, I've been spending a lot more time with the book. And, I was right it's more than a ledger ... it's a spell book. But, I can't acess it. I see the words. But, when I try to read a spell everything gets jumbled. In one of the pages, I was finally able to read a meditative breathing exercise. I've been doing that and it's been improving my mental state and making me less prone to the mental enchantment. That doesn't mean my body is not getting fatter.

All this weight is still affecting me. I still crave food a lot. I'm heavier and slower. It takes a lot of energy to do anything. I keep telling myself, I need to hurry before it's too late. And, I fear that time is coming soon.

...

Oh, Fuck!

Mr ... mr ... Black. I'm in your room because ... because ... I need you. I need you to fill me up. Are you ready to feed me, again? Your big fat pig is hungry. I need to be filled. And, I need your dick in my ass. I'm craving being filled from both sides. Yes, I'm your obedient hog. Where's the food, master? I'm not hiding anything. I just want to serve you.

No, no, no. There's no need to search around. Stop! ... wasting time and feed me. Im craving it. Fuck! Okay ... okay you caught me. I was looking at your book. I hate what you did to me. I need to change back. So, what are you going to do to punish me?

What!? Your impressed by me. You didn't expect any of this? I'm more proof something is going wrong with your plan? Ugh ... fuck what are you doing to me!? Ooooow!! It fucking hurts! St.. st... stop!

What!? I'm me again. You changed me back. Wait no! Not exactly. I look like myself but, it feels different. It feels tainted. Almost unnatural.

What the fuck are you talking about!? You turned our bodies into ash? Then how am I back in my body? The book is filled with death magic. And, only those with blood on their hands can read it, to it's full potential.

You used a resurrection spell on me. You burn up a soul in order to give me my body back. Wait? What soul? You fuckin killed Will!? No, he's still on the island. Then who? Those five rings? You didn't have them before. Why are four of them glowing? Wait ... no ... the harem. You have there souls to power the last few spells in your plan. Who the fuck did you kill!

No! Not Leo! You fuckin monster! Why are you doing this? Why did you change me back? You messed up? Some things are not going how you planned? So, you needed extra souls to fix your mistakes, taking a few loses to ensure success.

Those losses happen to be my friends, you asshole. You need my help, to finish your plan. What's in it for me? You'll teach me your magic. I would be your apprentice. With two necromancers we would be stronger together. Your right, I have been spending a lot of time with the book. It has been calling to me. Okay... okay I'll do it. What is it you need me to do anyways? Kill the first mate. Tonight?

If, I do this ... you need to restore what's left of the harem. Yes, I know there original bodies are gone. I meant restore them to the bodies they were just in. Can you do that? Yes, okay good. I'll come find you when the deed is done.

...

There, back into my room. I should be safe for now. I don't know if I'm being played or if Mr. Black is dumb enough to actually trust me. What game is he playing now. I can't believe Leo, is gone. But, the weird part is my emotions seem dampened. I kinda feel less human. I guess it makes senses. I am the product of necromancy, now thanks to Mr. Black's spell. I know I should feel devastated but, I'm just focused on achieving my plan and making sure Mr. Black loses everything. It won't be hard, I can smell the desperation coming off him. He's scared. I can see it in his eyes he messed up bad. And, he's doesn't want to get punished.

Are my eyes playing trick on me. I'm starting to see siegel's. They are all over the boat. Am, I seeing the enchantment, placed on the boat. I guess having necromancy casted on you counts as having blood on your hands.

What a pity, if Mr. Black wasn't such a lying, manipulative l, weasel we could have worked together. But, it looks like I don't need him after all. Now, let's see ... how am I going to end him.

[foxdies]

hey, if you dont mind me asking, how long have you been on testosterone? What kind of changes can you personally report? sorry if this is weird! I just like to hear first hand as opposed to medical reports because I dont know how much i trust them

oh sure no problem honey! not weird, i get it. i’m gonna get very personal here so strap in.

almost 7 months. it’ll be 7 months on october 10th. my voice has deepened--though personally not to the extent i want it to be, it has changed permanently. the way i can describe it is for me it feels like my highest range has dropped considerably, but my lowest range hasn’t moved a ton. so my natural range sits lower than before, but i cant go exceptionally deep yet, if that makes sense. of course, a lot of increased body hair; i’ve never been super hairy before, but now it feels like my leg hair has doubled and darkened, my thighs are now dark and hairy (they had light fine hairs before that were not noticeable and would not require shaving if that were my prerogative), the hair on my forearms has darkened and ive acquired hair up and down my biceps and triceps too. i think my underarm hair has thickened a little also. my hair on my belly--i always had a little bit below my belly button before, not a ton, but a bit--has increased quite a bit, and some has appeared above my belly button now too. ive noticed the hair on the sides of my chest has darkened, and ive sprung a hair or two in the middle of my chest. theres some hair on the top of my feet now also -- very sparse, but dark, and thats new, as i never had that before. i already have some facial hair. it doesnt show up well on camera except for my sideburns, which are crazy and grow thick and fast across my face. i have dark rat-stache hairs and a dark cluster of hair on my chin that is coarse and thick. also unfortunately a neck beard i have to regularly shave lmao. i personally also think my face has sharpened slightly (even with me being fat!), and my brows seem a little bushier. also, kind of gross, but ive noticed my nose hairs are longer / growing more?? the texture of my skin has changed and is rougher. i havent noticed a ton of weight distribution change yet but i do think my weight on my hips is migrating to my belly instead and the muscle in my thighs sticks out against my fat if that makes sense? my acne has worsened considerably, mostly around my chin and on my shoulders. my emotional processing has changed and while my mental health is better overall than before, ive been quiet and dissociating a lot more than i used to, maybe bc T makes you prone to bottling up, idk. i also sweat and stink more.

also ok genital and nsfw talk, minors dni w this part

definitely not producing as many fluids. have not had a period since june-ish. my bottom bits dont look like most skinny afabs do, my clitoris has never protruded at all from my labia, my labia keeps everything hidden no matter what and i think my clitoris is deeper set into me. however, testosterone has caused growth--though it still doesnt protrude for me--and has changed the way things feel. i am way more sensitive, i think, and direct stimulation has to be handled very carefully or it hurts. i have orgasms that are much more intense than before and i dont think ive had a single bad one / one that was just kinda “meh”. i cant handle insertion without lubrication, whereas it was, not like that before. i think my scent has changed too, though my scent overall has changed. 

[werevulvi]

These pics are just to show my dented ribs, cause like... suffer with me? Also cause I feel strangely alright with what my chest looks like in these pics. But anyhow. On left pic I'm pointing at the centre where it goes in and then pops out again on both sides of the sternum/breastbone. And yes, that's my bone bending like that, not just fat or muscles. Likely from having pushed my breasts towards the centre in binders and sports bras. On the right pic I'm pointing at the big dent on the lower left side of my ribcage, which is right where the sports bra elastic goes. My lowest ribs then curve out much farther than they do on the other side. Putting pressure on either of those dented areas hurts a bit.

(The bump above my nipple on the right pic is literally just my pec muscle, so no need to worry about that one.) And yes I'm sucking in my stomach here only so that you can see my ribs better, I don’t normally do for photos. I've sure gotten hairy again since I stopped shaving my body, and I like the soft fluff! It’s dark brown, almost black, irl. Which is quite a contrast to my ivory skin. And yes my happy trail does connect with my chest hair, which almost connects with my beard but not quite. Those little tufts just above the scars on my chest are my actual nipple hairs, or used to be before the nips were relocated during top surgery. They're weirdly misplaced little hairs now, but that's why they're there. And yeah, 5 years post-op but the scars never became white. But let's get onto the topic. I've come across a new doubt about my wish to have breast reconstruction, which I'm already looking into and not brushing under any carpets. I do want to make as sure as I possibly can that I make the right decision about my chest this time, so I'm tackling every doubt I get about it. And that new doubts keep popping up from time to time, worries me too. Even though I sorted through all the previous ones. So what's it this time? Since I've started going flat in public a couple weeks ago or something (I think the last time I went out with boobs on was June 6th or around that date) I've noticed I seem to be less likely to be assumed to be a trans woman, and instead seen as just a gnc man. And strangely that actually feels better, mentally. It's still very far from ideal, but I feel it's the slightly better of the two evils.

What would be ideal? In a perfect (and highly unrealistic) world: I'd love it if people would just know I'm a female who's taken testosterone and/or see I'm a masculinised woman even if they can't figure out, or know, how. And without me having to change my body at all. But that is not how reality works and I know that people won't perceive me that way just because I want for them to.

So, without changing my body again I'm basically stuck having to choose between being perceived as either a "cis" man or a trans woman, depending on my presentation and style. (Cause apparently we are assuming "gender identity" and not just bio sex, these days.) Of course I don't have 100% control over which one of those I'll be read as, but I've come to notice that people do seem to be much more likely to "trans me" when I'm wearing my breast forms cause that is adding a female (not just feminine) trait to my otherwise male appearance... and they seem to be much more likely to think I'm simply a man (albeit gnc) when I go flat but still keep a feminine style. However, some still read me as a gnc man with boobs and some still read me as a trans woman without them.

Exactly why I seem to prefer being read as a whole ass man rather than as a trans woman, is complicated and not entirely nice, but basically this: Both trans women and "cis" men are bio male, and it's the assumption that I'm bio male that rubs me backwards, at the core of it.

However, being assumed to be a trans woman adds another layer to it. It makes me feel like people shove the gender ideology down my throat that is hard to wiggle myself out of, and it makes me feel like I'm perceived as a "fake" woman and a "fake" lesbian. A fraud, to be brutally honest. Whereas when I'm assumed to be simply a gnc man, the gender ideology is not being shoved down my throat, people don't comment on my assumed genitals, etc. But above all I'm more likely to be treated with respect, which feels hugely relieving.

But mostly what truly whacks my mind about being assumed to be MtF is that it makes me feel like I'm an imposter of an imposter. Double wrong. While when seen as a man, I merely feel like I'm simply an imposter. Plain wrong. And that, is exactly why I feel like "gnc man" is a better wrongful assumption than "trans woman" is. Cause two wrongs really don't make a right.

But regardlessly, I am not and will never be an actual man. I am an imposter, a male impersonator of modern times. But at the same time I believe I'm more authentic like this than I would be if I tried to force myself into acquiring a stereotypical "womanly" appearance. That would be a charade just as much, if not more. That was a long ramble about how I'm perceived again, but it's highly relevant to my doubt about getting breast reconstruction, just hear me out. Cause that, what I'm read as based on what's going on on my chest, was was made the doubt creep out from its shadows, just a few days ago. It has gotten me suddenly worrying I might not like it how I'd be perceived if I have permanent boobs on my chest that I wouldn't be able to hide. Cause no more binding, ever. I've fucked my ribs over enough for a lifetime. And of course, how fucking moot and dumb it would be to bind after breast reconstruction! The thing, however, is that if I actually prefer to be seen as a gnc man over being seen as a trans woman, and boobs being the tipping point between those two perceptions... that creates a thorn in my side, a doubt, a conflict even, about if breast reconstruction really is the right choice for me then.

Ever since I left my boobs at home those weeks ago, people have left me alone about my gender/sex. Out of all the 5 or 6 strangers that have come up and talked to me since then, zero have confronted me about my gender, sex or even my style. It is a relief to just be left alone about my body like that.

I'm also feeling slightly (possibly even increasingly) okay with my chest as it is. I do still regret my top surgery and I still miss having boobs, and it's definitely possible that I'm just disassociating from my chest being flat now, but... Yesterday I was even walking around in my neighbourhood wearing literally just a skirt, fem slippers, my lesbian necklace, red lipstick, and an open, flimsy tunic/cardigan. The wind grabbing it quite a lot means most of my chest showed, including nipples, and my neighbours could see it as I walked back and forth to the laundry house to clean my dirty clothes.

Is it weird? Well, I highly doubt I'd be reported for indecent exposure cause I'm at least 99% sure everyone in my neighbourhood thinks I'm male. Cause they certainly looked shocked at me when I first started going fem in my early detransition a year ago. I've only lived in this area since mid-transition, so no one here knows my history with that. Basically I can't imagine my neighbours think I'm somehow bio female, without slipping into the territory of wishful thinking. But it has gotten me thinking: when I don't shave anywhere, and don't wear boobs, knowing I can only pass as male that way... am I not technically "presenting male" then, despite being female and also so feminine in my style? I mean, up until the point I introduce myself as "Laura" that is. Also, last night I took a shower, and for the first time in... I dunno how many years, if ever... I actually enjoyed soaping and touching my chest in gentle, massaging and caressing ways. For but a glimpse of a moment, I could connect to it for probably the first time since top surgery, or ever, in a non-sexual way. It is indeed a breakthrough. It is also a hint of its possible true potential. That I could maybe at some point come to peace with it. Why do I feel so bad for regretting my transition? Cause even though I achieved a 100% passability, here I am, still dysphoric and miserable, missing the womanhood I traded away. Oh, what a fool I was. This irrevokable fate that seems like an impossible dream for the dysphoric, and I'm just pissing on it. I'm sorry, but I cannot appreciate having been transformed into a highly believable illusion of something I can never actually become and no longer want to be. I never thought it could hurt. I never knew it could hurt like this. Was I sold a lie? But back to my chest. I know getting new tits won't make me any more or less female, and it wouldn't make me pass as female either. What I'd want them for is personal comfort in the private, in both non-sexual and in sexual contexts, and vaguely also cause it would help me relate better and more positively to other women. I'm jealous of every pair of boobs I ever see, clothed or uncovered, and that hurts. But what makes me now hesitate, perhaps for real, is this new, gnawing inkling of a feeling that what if I'd miss having a flat chest? Sometimes I like the look of it, in the sense that it kinda goes with my otherwise male appearance and who doesn't/wouldn't like the feeling of a soothing breeze on their bare chest during a hot summer day? Cause it sure does feel good. Oh god, I wish I could just have the cake and eat it at the same time!

It's been 5 years since I had my top surgery, but did I ever truly try to make amends with it, before my detransition? No, I didn't. What I did was trying to force myself to like the result of it, and that's not a successful approach. Just like I didn't exactly manage to like being a woman when I during my teens tried to force myself to become fine with my female body after I had figured out I was likely a trans guy at age 15, and up until the point I said "fuck it" and began my social (and eventually medical) transition at age 19. During those 4 years my dysphoria only worsened, and I think my rabid attempt to force myself to like being female was part of why it only got worse. Forcing self-love is not the way to achieve it. It won't work. Just like you can't beat depression out of yourself, or any other issue, you can't beat dysphoria out of yourself either. That kind of force is actually more likely to make it worse instead, I believe. Cause it'll just strengthen your belief that it won't work. However, to gently and with compassion for yourself and your struggle try out different things, over a longer time and with lots of patience, to slowly accept and come to terms with it can lead to the dysphoria disappearing. To not punish yourself for still being dysphoric or for not "succeeding", but rather reward yourself for even just trying and for every little thing that may improve on the way. At least that's how I managed to accept and embrace being female in my late 20's despite having failed so miserably at it during my teens, because this time I didn't force it. I killed that dysphoria with kindness, quite literally.

Likewise, I think there is a chance I could come to accept and embrace my flat chest if I just stopped forcing myself to, and tried it with gentle self-care and curiosity, without pressure to achieve anything. If only I just want to and can be prepared to give myself that kind of care and patience, one more fucking time. Cause I've only got one body and I'm so fucking painfully aware of it now. I can't fuck it up again. Detransitioning requires so much more soul-searching and scrambling around in my brain for answers, self-care and patience, etc, than transitioning ever did. Well... that's why I ended up detransitioning, I think. Cause I didn't do a good job at truly looking into myself the first time around. Would I still have wanted to go on T if I had known everything I know now, though? Oh absolutely, but that's not the topic of today.

But whether I'll in the long run wanna live as a male-presenting woman incognito or later on down the road change my body in some way, I can't know for sure at this point. Perhaps I'm just not mentally ready yet to take that kind of leap. Or perhaps I don't ever want to present fully female again and may end up loving this look and contradiction as I grow more secure within myself and more confident. But either which way, I will have to follow this new doubt carefully and see where it takes me. Keep going flat for a while and see how it goes, and see if how I'm perceived really changes based on that and if that really feels better in the long run to be perceived as a man. To take advantage of this very hot summer to be shirtless also in public to test my comfort level with that, and if I'd miss that. To explore my flatness gently and with careful patience to see if it really is so bad. To ask my brain: what is this lingering doubt trying to tell me? I'll start with giving it this summer, then more time if needed. I'll still go to the surgery consultation that could happen anytime now. It's not like I'd have to get the surgery by just going to that consultation, cause I'll need to go through my trauma therapy first, and even if it's expected I'd go through with surgery after consultation, I can always cancel at any point. Also, being informed of what a surgeon can do for me and my specific chest, as well as getting my questions about the surgery answered, would surely be helpful in my decision-making as well. I mean, that's what surgery consultations are for. Because I still lean towards wanting it more than I lean towards maybe not wanting it, I think cautiously proceeding with my thumb close to the cancel button is not a bad idea.

[confessionsofagaywhore]

Finally got fucked <3

I turned 18 a week ago and the day after I went on craigslist. While I usually just fantasize through the pictures of nearby older men looking for boys like me, I was super horny and went for it. I wore a short tshirt and short shorts to make him want me starting the second he saw me. So this 30y.o. hunk of a man picked me up at the mall and drove us into the parking structure. I saw his bulge growing and grabbed it. He asked if I would "sit my juicy ass on his lap," so I awkwardly stepped over the middle section and I didn't know I put my ass right in his face. He pulled my ass onto his face and stopped the car before he even parked  (no one was there but still hot). After he spent a few minutes ravaging my ass to his best ability through my shorts I felt the air on my ass cheeks as he pulled into a parking spot. He had pulled the shorts up through my crack to expose me. Then I got the pre-virginity-loss anxiety. I thought about how it could go wrong, etc. I was all nervous all of a sudden because I thought he wouldn't like how little leg hair I had or my boyish skin. I have a weird hormone issue where I shoulda gotten hormone injections years ago, but my parents didn't agree with it. So I'm still developing all slow. Anyways, as it turns out I was wrong since he pulled those shorts over my ass and spent a solid half hour just licking every inch of it. Then he pulled his cock out. I looked over my back to see the first penis I ever made grow. It was like 7.5 in cut and literally throbbing. I could feel my saliva soaked hole like vibrating almost I was so horny. I thought I had all my fantasy's filled: a masculine older man overcome with lust for me with a fat cock and the perfect attitude. Then I discovered another kinda embarrassing turn-on for me. "Do you want daddy's cock in that ass?" I felt such an intense wave of lust come over me that I couldn't even talk so I just just pushed my ass onto his crotch. His cock was snuggling between my ass cheeks as I grinded into him. Finally I regained speech and looked back at him "Does daddy want this ass?" I felt the girth of his dick rubbing inside my bubble butt cheeks and up against my hole. When he pushed me up to grab the lube, I realized how small and innocent I was compared to this pure alpha male. He was thick (not fat but like broad) and tall, maybe like 6' even, 200 lbs, aged and hairy all over. I'm like 5'5, average to skinny body, barely have any body hair besides a few pubes and eye brows. After he squeezed the lube in between my butt cheeks, he sank his cock back into the accommodating gap between them. Within minutes I was twerking on it and even let out a few moans that were way to high to be coming from an 18 year old boy's mouth. He pulled my shirt off and this continued for a while. Eventually I started putting the pressure on my hole. He took the hint and point it towards the opening of my now begging "boy pussy" as he called it. The minute I felt the warm tip slide in, I sat up on my feet and began the cherry-breaking. I got a slutty case of the hiccups as I began bouncing on it. I muttered a rhythmic "oh dah, uh ya, mnh," until he pushed my upper back forward and pulled my ass back towards him. I felt my hole open a bit and finally got to finishing the word I wanted to say just as badly as he wanted to hear: "mmm daddy.." He helped me get the hang of bouncing my ass with a full back arch by controlling me to start with his hands. After I got the groove, he let go and I was doing it all by myself. I wish I had a video of this, the contrast in age was hot and the dirty talk got intense. "You look so hot bouncing on daddy's cock" followed by a spank or handfull of ass and response from me like "my ass is all yours big daddy." I bounced on that cock for about an hour before he bent me over the center console which was uncomfortable for both of us. So, he said lets move to the back. I was so horny at that I denied his attempted escape from my soon to be gaping "boy pussy." He let out a "Oh fuck" or something and then laughed it off. "If you do that again without warning you might make daddy bust to soon," he warned me "I want daddy's cum," I told him. He stuck his ams behind my legs almost at my knees and I thought he was trying to pull again so I pushed back. He went back, then pushed the back of my legs forward and lifted me up a bit so that my legs came all the way forward and then upwards towards my face. Thankfully I'm flexible from soccer because it was so quick and aggressive that I probably coulda torn a hammy. With his arms pulling both my legs over my left shoulder, he opened the door so we could get out. Once he got us out, he paused for a moment and began fucking me like that. My hole felt like a thousand tickles and a charly horse with every masculine pump he made. Forgetting we were outside, my moans got a little to loud for comfort so he slowed it down and told me "you want the whole mall to hear you beg for daddy's cock like a little slut?" My moans became mixed with a giggle after he said that and I came back to reality for a moment. Any form of control I had vanished when I looked down to see I was being held about 4 feet from the ground, in a cradle like hold with a fat cock buried in my wet hole. He let one arm down to open the door and held me with one arm as he brought us into the back seat of the car. Even during this movement, he was singlehandedly pumping my ass up and down with only his left arm. Once he sat us down, he sank in balls deep and revived that tickle and charly horse feeling again. Instead of fucking me, he just held me there, teasing me like a desperate slut. Despite my pleads for him to fuck me, he told me i looked like "such a slut in this position." I continued to beg but he held me there until my words started to cut off again. Probably sounded like "plee fuck plees fu me ple fuck". "You want me to fuck you like a slutty little bitch?" he asked me. I responded something like "yea, fuck me like a slut big daddy." That was all he needed before he started lifting my ass up and down on his boner again. He laughed and told me I was his "little pocket pussy." After another 20 mins of naughty talk and intense fucking, he finally asked me "You want daddy's cum my little anal slut?" (I wanted his baby at this point) "I want the cum please daddy." The feeling is something I'll never forget. I felt the warm streams slowly filling me and then trickle back out as my ass reached capacity. He gave me the last few minutes of his boner before it came to a sad end. I reached down to make myself cum but was let down when I felt my own cum already drained on my legs and chest. He gently pulled out and I tried to close my ass to keep his sperm inside me. As he lifted me off of him and onto the chair beside him I felt a huge pool of his cum flow out of my "boy pussy." Even then, I could feel more left inside me. I broke the awkward post-sex-with-a-stranger silence and told him "there is so much cum in my ass," with a giggle. "You can keep it, too" he said with a laugh. He asked if I liked it (even though he knew he gave me the fuck of a lifetime). I told him it made me feel like a total sissy boy, but I loved it then I wanted to know how i fared with an obvious sex-veteran like him. "How was I though?" he put his big hand on my thigh and looked me in the eyes "You have the hottest body I've ever touched, and the by far nicest ass on the outside and inside too." I blushed so red after that and tried to be modest. "If it wasn't as plump compared to my body I bet it would be better." He said that was his favorite part. "Why else would I spend so much time with my face on it?" "And that skin is like a fine silk. I thanked him and got out the car still naked and left the door open so he could watch me put my clothes on. I wanted to give him as much as he wanted before he left me. I put my shirt on first to keep my ass out longer for his lusty eyes to admire. Besides the sex, the feeling of his lust towards me was my favorite part. I asked him to give me my shorts and he came up to kneel behind me. I looked back to see what he was doing, and he opened my shorts for me to step into. I felt stupid when I realized he just wanted to get another look at my booty. "Why don't you pull those up for me?" I slowly bent over to grab them and gave him a few seconds of pause with my hands on my ankles. I could feel his breath on my hole as my juicy cheeks parted. After a long and slow lick from the space between my legs up to and around my hole, the man grabbed my left ass cheek with the grip of a bear and spanked my left one before he stood up and got in the car. I was sad that I wouldn't be getting more from him. Before he left he told me to check out the present he hid between my own butt cheeks. I reached down and felt a piece of paper. I was unfolding the mystery gift when he said "'til next time my perfect little piece of ass," and drove off. On the paper was his phone number. While I thought I was the horny one, he has been fucking this ass everyday for seven nights in a row now, after he spends the day flirting with the women he trains at the gym. So I've been full of cum for seven days now, and I can't get enough. (sorry that was so long I just want all my memory of it to last)

[myfuckinplanet]

I try not to eat

I don’t really feel like there’s something wrong with me. It feels just right, I don’t know how to explain this.

I’ve always been struggling with my weight. I am and I have always been overweight. Not from my point of view. My bmi is in the “obese” section.

90% of the persons I dated told me to lose weight for them. Some didn’t “desired” me, and ended up breaking up because they liked skinny girls. “But you have SUCH a pretty face !” Yes I know. That’s why I only wear a shirt in my sleep and not a bag on my head.

I tried to do it the healthy way, going to the gym and eating better... But I work 8h a day all week, I don’t have the time or the energy to go to the gym or to cook everyday.

At 18yo, I started to make myself throwup after binges, but it never helped me to lose weight. It makes just everything worse. It’s a punishment, a slap in the face for our sins, but it doesn’t make everything right again.

I could go for the body-positive and everything, but I still feel as my current boyfriend could just stop loving me at any time because I’m so fucking huge.

I saw his face the other day : “Are you going to the gym tonight ?” He was trying to stay neutral, but I took weight recently because of all the social game nights I did recently... And the binges. And I knew he saw it.

As I told him “Yes, I’m going after class.” His face lighten up ! Such a bright smile. I can’t hate him for that. He’s probably the only guy that ever respected me in a relationship. We’re quite happy together. He’s just a guy. He likes skinny. He likes cute.

And I’m an hairy sac of fat.

It’s not just about him. I want to look better in weird clothes. Right now when I try to color my hair or to put weirdass goth clothes I just look like a big fat clown.

It’s been a week now, I try to eat less that 1000cal a day. I kinda achieved it until now, I even see changes on my face already. I want to eat even less than this. I know some people are able to eat around 400cal a day. I knows it’s bad, I know it can be dangerous. I know two girls who almost died of their eating disorder. But I’m far from there yet. It’s the only part of my life where I have a bit of control on, you know ?

[realityofrealism-blog]

Stranger in my own skin.

It’s so strange to be in the shower bathing myself, rubbing a bar of soap across my bare chest. I almost feeling detached from my own skin.

   Unfamiliar.

 I turn the water off, wrap myself up in a towel, and scamper off into my bedroom. I drop my towel and inspect what I see in the mirror.  I look at my reflection vainly from across the room.

I cup each breast with the corresponding hand. I massage them; I jiggle them; I play with them. I love my boobs. My boobs and legs are honestly the only parts of my body that I have complete, total confidence about.  Everything else I've just kind of accepted. As I've gotten older, I've embraced that my boobs are a feminine attribute that are apart of my womanhood. I'm beyond proud to be a woman.  [In a game of chess, although the "most powerful" piece to winning a game is the king, but anyone with any amount of real intellect also understands that the queen can do things that no other piece can do, thus making the queen "most valuable". I'm reminded of this every time I look down and see my chest.] My legs. I have thin legs that look great in whatever I choose to slip them into. But on a much more functional note my legs allow me to salsa dance, go for bike rides, and do everyday tasks. I appreciate and love my legs. I rub lotion on them and glance at myself in the mirror while doing so.

 [It feels weird to look at myself through appreciative eyes. I feel like you’ve been the only person to ever look at me with admiration and after you left, any kind of complimentary thoughts have been absent…  it’s like they left with you. I've never been one to outwardly compliment myself, and the fact that I'm doing so to validate to myself any amount of self appreciation makes me uneasy. But hey! Growth is never supposed to be comfortable, right?]

 I feel uncomfortable looking at myself like this.    

 I walk closer to my reflection and start to tear myself apart like a fresh carcass in the valley of death.

 [This has become my comfort level since you’ve left: self-pity and harsh self-critiquing. I'm really trying to push through this. I am. But old habits die hard. It all starts out as trying to remain self aware or humble yourself and ends with flattening yourself to be walked all over.]

The flattening.

 You’re curves are a result of being about 10 pounds over weight. You carry fat in your midriff. You have hairy arms. You have razor burn. Your garter tattoo needs touching up.You look like you’re always hard at work and on your feet- you need a pedicure. Your tan lines aren’t even. You’re too pale- why don’t you get a tanning membership? Don’t you know that tan is beautiful and pale is ugly?

   I walk even closer and start examining my face.

 Wrinkles. Fuck. How? I’m only 23 years old? How is it that I see sorrow and worry linger on my face longer than happiness? I look between my eyebrows, where a fine permanent line resides that I’ve earned from furrowing my brow out of disappointment. [The German slipping through the cracks.] I move to my eyes where I have very light crows feet and lines starting underneath my eyes… probably from all the nights that I’ve stayed up crying over things that make me more coarse and rough around the edges. [My uglier sides that I feel are becoming more faceted day by day.]  I’m breaking out like crazy… you’d think that the salt from my tear would at least help my complexion. *Scoffs* I move my focus to my lips, where at each corner of my mouth I have a tiny line from grimacing… the natural response you have to pain. Then I look at how small my lips are… I remember what the man before you had told me about how my lips were disproportionately small for my face. I believe “bird lips” was the term he used.

 [I remember the night I told you about every thought he put into my head about my appearance, and your only rebuttal was to kiss every inch of my body and tell me how perfect I was. I almost wish I never wouldn’t have experienced that with you because now I’m left with the pain of it no longer existing.]

 Jesus.

I shake my head. What has the world given to you vs. what do you genuinely believe has been taken away from you that you worry and hurt so much?

 I have no answer.

 I lean closer.

 I count 17 gray “roots”.

I sarcastically start naming each grey hair after different people and events that came into my life and burned me.

 I feel like my soul is covered in 3rd Degree burns, and I’m currently in an emotional intensive care unit. Peeling back the layers of damage so that I can actually make a full recovery.

Shits painful, yo.

Ouch.

 I know that to make this full recovery I speak of, I need to start to let go of the pain. Breathe in the new, and exhale the old. I’m just not ready yet. I think that’s partially where I fucked up last time that I “healed”… I kinda forced myself to move forward for the benefit of the people around me. I didn’t allow myself to work through the shallow emotions first and then conquer the deep.

 My ego is wounded right now from rejection.

I’m incredibly jealous.

I’m selfishly hurting by the decisions you’re making for the betterment of yourself.

My protective side wants to lash out.

My soft side just wants to lay in bed all day in your shirt, and cry to the point of dehydration.

 After losing you, I’m having to get reacquainted with myself and all of my needs… but not because I don’t know who I am anymore. It’s just that for a while I was so focused on loving you and helping you get to a point of helping yourself, that I lost touch with my own scars that still needed mending…

 I feel inwardly overwhelmed; stuck in this house of mirrors [my brain] where I can’t escape my own views or thoughts about myself. Constant self judgment and criticism of my progress [and lack thereof] is my current life consists of.

 I take a step back from the mirror and force myself to stop.

Stop.

 I decide that I need a break from my own thoughts and call one of my favorite people.

 Katie.

 [I love talking to Katie, because she doesn’t downplay what I’m feeling or experiencing based on my age. There are people getting engaged and having babies by my age, so when people downplay what I’m experiencing with a “but you’re still young” comment, it gets under my skin. She doesn’t do that though. She gives me such refreshing insight, and tells me things that I deep down already know, but need to be reminded of. She’s the right spot of this shitty situation I find myself in. ]

 I hang up the phone.

I’ve been leaning a lot on the people I love. I don’t like admitting that I need help and support… but I do. I’m learning that there are things that I just need to accept. I need to accept self love, and external love. I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am strong. I am brilliant.    

 All diamonds are formed under great amounts of pressure.

 I’ve done all that I can with the situation presented to me. With knowing that I’ve done all I can, I do find a small amount of peace within. Moving forward I just need to get reacquainted with myself.

 Feel in the moment.

Feel my own skin.

Feel my own needs.

Feel my own inward love.

Feel like myself.

[bodyswapmischief]

Authentic Costumes: Santa Claus

I came home and my boyfriend, Manny, was still cooking. His chocolate skin glistened with the heat from the kitchen. His small arms and slim frame worked hard, as he quickly moved around. He was in his zone.

However, I felt guilty. Before the holidays started I lost my job. I applied to a number of jobs but, no one was hiring. Now, Henry has been working double to support us. "Oh, your home." He quickly glanced at me and went back to mixing. "How was the gym."

"It was okay. There was just a lot on my mind. " I said as I walked to him. I easily wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss on his flour stained check. "And how has my little baker been doing?"

He wiped the flour from his face as he quickly gave me a peck. And weakly pushed my arms off him. "Well as you can see, it's been going. But there is still alot of work to do. I need to make more of everything: cookies, cupcakes, tamales."

"Well do you need any help." I asked.

He stopped and looked at me and laughs. "No, no, no. The last time you helped the cookies were to salty, the cupcakes didn't rise, and the tamales came out dry. And, then when I put you incharge of mixing you broke multiple bowls. And then.."

"Okay ... okay, I get it. I won't help." I sigh."Just go relax." He smiles back and starts mixing again. I sluggishly walk to the living room. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot, a package came for you."

I continued to walk towards the living room and saw the package. The logo confirmed it was from Authentic Costumes. The box was way bigger than I thought it would be. I open the box and revealed a small vial sitting on top of a santa costume. I pick them both up and underneath was a full wardrobe of clothes. Triple X shirts, size 50' waist pants, and oversized underwear. What is all this for?, I thought.

But, before I could even think about Manny walked in. "I've been curious all day so, what was in the box." I look at him holding the Santa Claus costume. "Well it was supposed to be a surprise..., I got a seasonal job as a Santa Claus." My boyfriend laughed, "Are you serious? Was it a phone interview? They do know you have rock hard abs, right?."

My face blushed with slight embarrassment, "Yes and they didn't care. They said anyone can be Santa and offered me 20,000 dollars for the month. So, I said yes. And, then they said they would send me a package to look more like the role." I snapped back.

There was some silence and then I pulled a card from the box. "Begin transformation process by drinking blue vile. The changes will activate once you put on the suit. The transformation will not be permanent. Don't be alarmed." "What transformation ... are they talking about magic..." He asked. "I don't know ... I guess." I replied back. I open the vial. "Well here goes nothing." I start to drink it. "Are you sure.." Manny tried to talk before I drank it But, it was to late.

The blue liquid went down my throat. And, a tingling sensation filled my body. I saw Manny look at me in horror. "What's happening to you." I looked down. The blue liquid was spreading through every vein in my body. My body glowed as a blue road map of viens spread through out my body. I tried to talk, but couldn't. My legs gave out and I fell to the floor. My body started convulsing.

Manny ran to my side. "Daniel! Daniel!" He screamed in terror. He held me with his small body. His hands shook with distress. And, as quickly as it started, it stopped. I laid up against my boyfriend. My body was exhausted and my breathing was heavy. "Are you okay?" He asked putting down his phone and his voice was still shaken. He started rubbing my strong chest and back.

"I think so." I whispered due to a lack of energy. "What were you thinking." He told me. "Why did you just drink a mysterious blue liquid from a sketchy ass company. You could have died. "But, I didn't," I smiled as strength returned to my body. "Plus the company is legit. They do a lot of events for rich people. And, we need the money." I rubbed my head. I get up and start taking off my clothes.

"What the fuck are you doing now?" He asked. "I'm going to put on the santa suit on." I put on the oversized underwear and pants. Manny just looked at me and shook his head. He seemed to be calming down. He laughed seeing me in the bigger clothes. "Damn, we could both fit in those pants."

I grabbed the Santa hat and put it on. I didn't feel anything. And, then I put the Santa coat on. I looked hot as my six pack and pecs were exposed in the open Santa coat. Then I started filling itchy. My whole body was itchy and it felt like little pins started poking out of my skin. I turned to look at the mirror and Manny joined me. Both of us shocked by the changes. Hair started to fill my buff hairless body. My chest and stomach were covered. I could even fill back hair starting to rub against the Santa coat. I knew the same was happening to my legs, thighs and ass.

Finally, stubble appeared on my face and continued to grow out. Until, I had a beard that would make any lumberjack jealous. "Who knew Santa was so hairy." Manny said as he rubbed my hairy muscular chest.

But, my body didn't stop changing. My tanned skin started to lighten. At first, I didn't know what was happening. Small changes to my face and body started appearing. I started looking stronger and better looking. I finally realized I was getting older. I was aging but, my body still had the muscle mass of a 25 year old that spent all his time at the gym. It was erotic. Then my hair started going grey and the lines on my face started to deepen. The hair on top of my head started to fall off. I was a silver fox. I look at my boyfriend and both of our faces were in shock.

But, still the changes didn't stop. Underneath my furry stomach, I could see my abs start to disappear. My body was growing with fat. My face became rounder. I could feel a double chin form under my beard. My chest started sagging with fat. My stomach became enormous. My thighs thickened up. And, my dick started getting buried under pelvic fat.

"Well, fuck me." Manny said. " Magic actually fucking exists. I can't believe it. This is fuckin crazy." "I know. It feels so different. I'm in shock. It's me but, everything feels different." I said exploring my new body. He comes over and also starts poking me in places. "How do you feel?" He said.

"Heavy." I laugh and my whole body jiggles. "I can't imagine having to live life like this. I can feel parts of my body touching each other, that never did before. I don't even think, I can touch my toes. Fuck, it's weirding me out. I can feel all of this kinda affecting my personality. I feel lazy, slow, hungry and tired. Just standing here is taking so much energy. I'm not use to it. Here help me take the suit off."

Manny goes behind me and peels the coat off me. I take of the pants and underwear, revealing my shrunken dick and enlarge fat pad. I let a couple seconds past. "Do you see anything changing." I ask my boyfriend. He just shakes his head. "What do you mean. It's supposed to reverse when I take the costume off."

Panicking I pull out the instructions. Manny squeezes against my side to read them at the same time. "Here, it says the transformation starts when I put on the costume." I say. "Yeah but, that doesn't mean you revert after taking it off. It just says the transformation is not permanent." He answers. He proceeds to look around at the box and picks up the vial. "Here the vial says the transformation last for about a month." He adds.

My heart sank. "So, I'm stuck like this for month." I cried. "I can't be stuck like this. What about the gym? I'm going have to walk out in public like this. What about you? Are you okay with dating a fat old man for a month?" "Luckily they sent all these new clothes you can wear." He joked. I just glared at him. "What it's funny." He laughs. "You make a pretty good daddy bear." He flirted. "What!? Does this turn you on?"

He smiles and walks into the kitchen. He quickly comes back with a plate of food. "I think I can make this work. I don't want my Santa daddy to go hungry." He winked. He motioned for me to sit down, as he fed me. I didn't realize how hungry I was. I was never one to indulge like this, but my body had a mind of it's own. Eating gave my body a new sense of pleasure. "Here take the plate big boy." He handed me the plate of cookies and cupcakes. I continued eating.

"I think you should take the month to enjoy your new body. Give in to your hunger. Don't get me wrong I love your real body. But, I also have a feeder fetish. Now, I can expirence my fantasy."

Manny started kissing my body. My neck. My fat chest. He rubbed my new boobs and my body rushed with pleasure. He sucked on my fat tits and I moaned while I continue to eat. He moved down and kissed my growing belly. He took his hand and pushed my fatpad down. He reveals as much of my dick that he could and started sucking. I continued to moan in deep pleasure.

As, I finished the last bite of food, I cummed into his mouth. My dick was still hard. " Come on big boy." He positioned our bodies so I could have easy penetration into his ass, at my new weight. I was worried that my dick was no longer going to be big enough. But, I squeezed against his ass. His check's helped pushed my fatpad and a decent amount of my dick entered his ass. I began thrusting and my body jiggled from the motion. My breathing became heavy. It was more intense than any work out at the gym. My hairy body became wet with sweat.

We both orgasmed at the same time., breathing heavy. Now, laying side by side he seemed even smaller then when I was in my original body. He Pat's my stomach and lays his head on my boobs. Maybe this month won't be so bad. And, maybe when I revert back, I will start working on developing my own real fat stomach.