#powerlifter build

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

[October 28th, 2020 7:40am] 

bro, i’m some kinda necrocoprofungal fringe weirdo with a fetish for bein normal

i’m the punchline to a joke from 2005

my life is the vain pursuit of an ideal of sublime banality, this horridly tacky laudanum fugue of gilded wheat fields in subdivided painted picket houses, succumbed to oppressive concrete nothingness in a time that never was

the fury of a broiling beneath. dogs in an open field. vacancies within vacancies brah

primeval growth before the white man raped the land, gnarled and gambrous with all matter of shoots, bulbs, rosettes and spores. the wasteland of hollow points here in the heartland, ancient and centipeodal as the sea animals in the dinosaur books i read as a boy when everything was doe eyed and my head was filled with air. when i was yet to be so tantalizingly leaden

when i. simply. was still here

end of time. end of memory. thoughts comin and goin in strips a nitrate film

endless carousels a shape, bro. so many so lovely

so many the same

i’ll let you in. i’ll rest my hand on your back. i’ll lean in close and i’ll say brah, gonna show you some real sick shit brah

can’t help but smile

not smart to show fear. eye to eye. teeth to teeth. funk to funky. you’ll like it, i promise. the waltz always strangles. the wires in the notes. the house lights go up and down. spirographs of flesh. an orchestra pit of sarlaac. there always comes release after a dream turns to a nightmare brah

bro, i once saw this grindrshame post where this dude was like 6′2″, built and headless in an anonymous grey hoodie, and his bio said he was gonna strangle you and chop you up with an axe or some shit. people in the comments were saying he was funny. this ain’t shameable. shame on you for trying to shame a funny man with a nice blocky torso and big strong hands

i thought brah, fuck yeah brah, you get it. you get it. that’s what i want. walk straight toward the man triggerin just the right amount a threat detection response. we gonna fuck? he gonna choke me? how hard? i don’t fuckin know brah. one way to find out. i want a fire. baby i’m lit. pour gasoline all over my dick. harder bro harder. gonna burn this fuckin house to the ground bro. run screamin into desert night. wake up in a ditch clingin to you in grit and despair. look at you. know you. see past you. to the man you were before. who you forgot you were. who i know without knowin you know for i don’t know if what i see is what you know. then i realize. none a that matters. this moment is love and love is this moment. i remember only the smell of campfires and cold. you were the best mistake a my life brah. it was deffo more than worth the arson charges 

bro?

yeah brah?

i didn’t think you’d be the kinda guy to go on night walks

haha brah? what’s that supposed to mean brah. i love all this dennis hopper shit. over there, look at that lamp post. that incandescent diner. reflections in empty windows. darker glasses hiding darker curtains. way the light ripples through the leaves. shit’s fuckin gorgeous, brah

city feels like a dream bro

brah? brah? haha, brah you ever dissociate like real hard

haha, like real hard

haha

brah

brah

for a second i thought we were like girls in a dreampop video brah

bro, don’t. don’t say shit like that bro. holy fuckin shit. for a sec i swear i felt my dick shrivel up bro

haha, kitty got claws, but i the aesthete and the visionary have the petrifying gaze of the gorgon embedded in the imago of the mother

brah, what the hell’s an ass teat brah?

it’s a dude who’s like a faggot, but he still likes pussy

don’t sound a thing like you brah

some tastes are more refined than others

the most refined taste is that of the fraternal platonic bond between men of value, whose warring passions ignite an agonsy and ectasies which blurs the lines between romance and reason

all right socrates, bend over

haha

hahahaha

brah

brah

i die a little inside when i see you smile brah 

brah

i never thought i’d be so happy

…

BRO

holyfu–

haha, watch where you’re goin brah. dumbass almost got creamed by a bus

bro, sorry bro, i’m just like… 

yeah, brah?

where am i… where are…

you’re there. i’m here.

…

bro, are you?

‘i’m here, you’re there’ sir, do you mistake me for a child?

my apologies, sir. your motor coordination spoke for itself

haha, real funny brah. real cute thing to hear from a tight toosh in tighty whities

haha, brah. someone’s feelin sassy brah

it’s just… i din’t think it was real funny brah

nah, nah. keep goin brah. you’re cute when you’re cunty

bro i am not cunty, that is gaslightin. i’ve been recordin this whole conversation, it’s admissible in court without your consent by illinois law, and i can establish a pattern and motive. i’m gonna sue your ass for emotional damages brah

first off double check that law book. it don’t say what you think it says. pause for effect. okay. when you check the book it’ll say exactly what you remember it saying, but you still second guessed yourself. boom. alpha dominance. you’ve been gaslit. gonna get locked in the footbox tonight, fagboy. gonna stain that fuckin faggot lung a yours with three days a heavy liftin and ballin… also ‘toosh’, bro are you a grade school church hag? are you gonna give me a time out? knock it off with that pansy shit, brah. we both agree my masculinity is sacred, stop tryin to subvert it with your estranged gayness

i’m in love with you bro. i hate it i hate how much i’m in love with you… if i admit to it, then i admit that i’m stupid. stupider than you in fact, because yes, i am in fact smart enough to know better. this is 100% my fault. my head says this’s idiocy, but my heart yearns for you with a yearning beyond yearning. it’s a heart valve of picture postcards all the way down my irony innards a chef boyardee spelling out EA Poet sole in bouquets a cankers and open sores… maybe i could only ever hope for self-destruction, to fall with you ever downward, to be the arc of a fire poppy riding the ember to completion. maybe that’s all love is bro. the theater of heroism. a stupid idiot danger. maybe my parents did have a successful marriage, but i’m not gonna say that… i’m not gonna say any of that. i’m gonna keep that all to myself

smart man, brah. that’s why i like you like you. down for a night walk symposia with a flourish of baudelaire for texture. reminds me a those ceilings in my house, brah. ones with the paintstrokes that look like canyons

[cachunk]

bro, did you just slap your head bro

bro, i dunno? did i brah?

bro, you did. you deffo did

haha, i did?

your headphones cachunked, didn’t you hear?

nah, brah, i don’t think… no wait, yeah i did, haha

haha

fuckin dumbass

dumbass meathead

dumbass meathead musclebull muscle toy andro droll androgeneticist muscle drone rubber drone rubber room retard ubermensch apeman grotesque gooner hunchback henchman dumbfuck douchebag dudebro

first of his name

king in the north

haha

hahaha

bro, stop i’m still in mourning

bro, it sucked since season five, bro

bro, how the fuck do you have your best character, the only character left who’s played by a competent actress – i’m sorry bro, that bitch with the caterpillar eyebrows cannot act. she has like white bread girl next door bimbo giggly and all the fury and drama of grade school gymnasium theater

bro, you are that, but the gay version

first off, fuck you fagboy. that’s two days in the footbox now. i’m gaggin you with the dirty crusty pair a briefs i use as a jizz rag faggot. gonna be tastin it all night fagboy, tastin my dirty alpha fuckin cock steeped in my tight white fuckin briefs. yeah, you love it. love watchin daddy’s uncut alpha bulge standin up tall and straight in his tight white fuckin briefs. watchin daddy’s hard uncut alpha cock writhin in the transparent cotton, growin fatter and nastier with every gush a blood – the mass and veiny contouring suggestive of a lunatic in a straightjacket confined to a prison a ballsweat, asylum walls of the fly some brutalist garter prison of mid-century ad copy suffocatin me in my futile role as protector and provider. yeah, you love daddy’s uncut alpha dick, don’t you fagboy?

yes, sir. please gag me with your briefs sir. i worship and adore you sir

you’re my everything bro. i wouldn’t know what i’d do without you without you in my strong arms keepin you safe and warm

bro

awgh

bro stop it bro

brah i’m a sensitive man, you know that brah. i’m really closer to a lesbian in temperament

fuckin gina gershon leather dyke 

haha, you’re like a helpless lil pray animal, bro. i wanna rape you

sorry, brah. not feasible. definition-ally, one cannot rape the willing

objection. your honor, we have established the defendant’s mind is weak and malleable. upon the conclusion of our night walk i could throw him upon my svelte king size mattress, tie him wrist and ankle to the bedposts, and fuck him senseless – your honor, i could fuck him until he was drooling catatonic with eyes tuned out like television static, absolutely fry the circuitry of his brain with pleasure… and with but a mere suggestion make him think it was the most brutal of horrors, an utterly charmless display of freakshow primate dominance which would leave the skirts fallen from the hangers. i could have him bent over lobotomized 1950′s hysterical with a hole in the head from uncle sam, crying in his sad lil victorian woman way oh you foul man you foul man you absolute brute

i give up. i’m helpless to you

i am your toy. don’t break me

i’m weak

i need you

bro i need you

bro

bro

i was missin you real bad bro

brah i know bro

god i can’t fuckin st–

WOAH

the fu–

haha, b r o

eeeeee

bro you are clueless, bro

what wa–

bro, that weren’t no bus. that was a bus stop bro

which one of us am…?

which one of us am…? bro are you for real bro?

bro, where, where am 

bro… bro

bro?

bro, pay attention. you listenin? i’m me, you’re you

bro, i’m…

bro? BRO?

…

bro?

‘i’m me, you’re you’. very instructional. very confucian. i have been enlightened. thank you. thank you very much. every moment we spend together is a treasure

bro, i know it. you know i got your back bro

it hurts bro. my head hurts. my feet hurt. my spine hurts. the bud of passion lies dormant in the embers exhausted. hold me close bro?

bro, you know it bro

mmphh

feels good don’t it bro

gooood you smell good brah

like that brah? like curlin up in daddy’s smelly meathead pits

mmmph. can smell you through the leather brah. mmmmmm fuck. wanna curl up in a bearskin rug made a more you brah

get in closer. i’ll crush you

please bro. crush me like a fuckin bug

mmmphhhhh 

ahhhhhh

like that fagboy

i am an insect. i am unworthy. i cry tears of joy every moment i can smell you, see you, touch you, kiss you, you in all your earthly imperfections are what i deem a suitable enough surface onto which to project my unattainable ideal of exquisite manhood

it’s an horor, brah. use me. i’m a dumb mule fit only to serve and amuse you

flex, bro. i wanna kiss it

pffftt

hmmppph. god you’re a man. those fuckin pecs. flatten me like a migrant worker under a speedin freight train brah

haha bro what the fuck

a bray of laughter, wheezing forth like a geyser from dry reedy lungs – eyes dry reedy wells from which there are no tears to draw

i am the sun

i am the air

you’re a fire sign

a lemon lime

a soda pop

i’d rather not

please picture a barbershop quartet on fire

you were always the care

taker her sir

what a lovely image. how much did it cost?

twenty five cents, my good man

a pleasure, sir. i shall return tomorrow to view it again

why sir, you can view it anywhere

anywhere

anytime anywhere

anytime anywhere? good sir, what sorcery is this? is this one of those portable videographs i’ve heard so much about

why no sir, ’tis but the power of imagination

imagination, why what is that?

it’s when you get like pictures and notions in your head, sir

oh, that doesn’t sound typical. are you sure of that?

why yes sir. why i bet if we sat still and quieted down for a moment, we could picture all sorts of things

well… i suppose it is considered adventurous to try things once

okay… you ready…

okay…?

yeah? on the count of 3?

I

I I

I V

I I I

…

…

…

are we…

shhh… i was imaginin somethin

aw shi-

shhh

….

….

holy fuckin shit brah

bro. bro i know rite

are we allowed to do this? this can’t be legal

not just legal, bro. free

why isn’t everybody doin this? we have to tell the world!

can’t bro.

bro?

won’t listen

aw shit. what do we do now?

i dunno. we could light more shit on fire

the gumption i mire, i just wish you’d channel it more productively

hard, brah. nobody taught me how to be a man. i had to assemble it piecemeal from the shards of a collective stained glass mural detonated by the infobomb a mass media and bulldozed by the flatiron a neoliberal accelerationism

can’t tell if sperging or anime stoic

fuck off normie

my undiagnosed bipolar disorder grants me currency in your fucked up inverted mental illness values hierarchy, but joke’s on you, that’s the cost of the psychic heritage i carry, my drive towards shamanism. hear him, hear him, hear the voice of venus in cancer beyond the grave. can i getta   69   69   95 boy

brah brah

for i am a seer… for am i a liar…

BRAH

i am a seer  i am a liar

haha, naw man. he’s fine. theater guy, they’re characters, you know

my father   ran the prison

shhhh. slow down brah. you’re shakin. come ere. come to daddy. come get up in daddy’s leather  where you belong

it’s not me, it’s the wind. the autumn wind. creeping listless upon my dream of an indian summer

yeah. that’s it. get right up in daddy’s pit

mmmph. like i’m bastin in your smell bro

yeah, that’s it. my heat and my musk. cocooning you. seeping into you. staining you. makin you more and more my good obedient beta boy. like that don’t you. like bein my bitch, don’t you beta?

yes sir

say it

i like bein your beta bitch boy sir

feels good to let daddy take control. just be a dumb beta for awhile and follow along. be a good lil boy for your alpha and obey mindlessly

yes sir

fuckin your head with my words. commands feel so fuckin good snakin through your brain, suffocatin any nerve bundles tryin ta resist

i’m weak sir. i’m weak. i need you. complete me. destroy me.

bro. bro. resist me. sustain me. complete me. i am an absence without you. this thing i am. this slightness. this frailty. it’s something no mass can overcome. the weight. a will no body could ever embody. do you see how i weep? i who was a beast who was a man dreaming he was a god

i love you bro

love you bro

love you bro love you bro

love you bro love you bro glove you bro globe you bro

we want you big brother

big brother

bro bro

bro

bro

bro, i wasn’t done. 

bro, wha-

third, i am not autistic. fourth, even if i was, autism is not a mental illness, it’s a perfectly natural autoimmune response to unnatural vaccinations. my teats are the most robust and the milkiest. my pearl necklace houses the most cum. my boots are the most patent and the leatheriest. second, bro. they had their best fuckin character standin around on a balcony all season doin fuckin nothin. after season fuckin six bro, they took her absolutely fuckin nowhere, i don’t give a shit how much trashy pirate dick she didn’t get, it was all a waste

make a wish

we never kiss’d

tears’n the rain

it’s always the same

i know, bro. hurts to fall out of love. hurts not to care. run outta stories outta service

not gonna worry about that anymore brah. don’t plan on it happenin again anytime soon. it’s all very conventional. not anything new. nice to see it reheated like a warm stain. i would rather remember the bouquet of theses tastes of yesterday, not the bilge and bile they became

bro

Bro

delete me

d e l e t e  m e

b  r  o

b     r     o

[screaming beyond the infinite]

what was i saying

that you loved me stupid

you loved yourself stupid, goonerboy

hey, look

what

porchlight’s still on

haha, fuckin dumbass

who you callin dumbass, dumbass

to sass and the spastic, forevermore shall your minds be plastic

whoooom

airplane exploding noises

tens of thousands of women and children dead

goddamn, i do love you stupid

maybe we should burn down some buildings

nother time brah. there’ll be other nights. other night walks

other nights other night walkers

bro

bro

don’t think this is gonna be no greetin card endin brah. you got no fuckin idea what’s waitin for you on the other side a that door. i could clamp a leatherclad paw over your mouth and crush your jaw into a bony fuck funnel for my uncut alpha cock. i could throatfuck you so hard i work my way right through nuttin your fuckin faggot brains out. i could rip your fuckin throat wideopen with my bare hands and garrot you with your own tongue i don’t see that fucker black with filth from the bottoma a my boots you dumb faggot. tomorrow i wanna see daddy’s alpha boots fuckin spotless, comprende motherfucker? 

the door slams shut behind you

you’re not gettin the fuck back out for a good long while

better think

long and fuckin hard about what you let inside a you brah, fuck knows if you’ll ever get the stains out

haha

haha

night walks bro

fuckin night walks

[to the boys across the street on the golf course]

cocksucker

[french-toast-enjoyer]

venom with stretch marks,,, save me venom with stretch marks,,,,,

(quick sketch, should I do more fat/muscle studies on them?)

[bigfan-fanfic]

Considering you only gain muscles by working out, and to work out, you need to lift heavy things, technically, Clark couldn't be muscular since he's way too strong to actually be able to train his muscles. Which means: Clark chubby farm boy is actually a possible and viable thing.

SO, fun fact! This is totally true, and in fact addressed often in comics.

It's usually agreed upon in canon that Clark didn't develop his powers right away, with his capacity for absorbing and utilizing solar energy gradually expanding, around the same time as the onset of puberty, probably around age 14. So though his powers' growths were rapid once they manifested, he did have some time to adjust until they reached their maximum. And it was during this time he was helping out on the farm, using that as a kind of informal training (lifting hay bales for strength, which progressed to lifting cattle to lifting tractors, etc.; practicing control and finesse with say, chickens and caring for livestock with super speed).

Remember, Clark is supposed to be potential for the high school football team in Smallville, and that immediately makes me think stocky and sturdy, not cut and visibly muscular. At the point where he's at the full strength he'll know as Superman, he's got pretty much no upper limit, and generally nothing that's going to help him train his muscles. So definitely, early career Superman is going to be more mass than muscle.

However, once he gets full access to the Fortress of Solitude and the support of the Justice League, he can get some assistance - Wonder Woman has incredible, divinely empowered strength, and as a warrior trains often - she helps instruct him in martial arts and can help him train at full strength. Meanwhile, Batman can help him train in environments built to limit his power, like red sun training rooms and such.

Considering his physiology is more dependent upon solar energy than anything else to build his strength and keep him healthy, I'd say solar energy keeps him from atrophying. But considering if he's got energy akin to photosynthesis from the sun, I'd suggest he never really gets much of a lean musculature and remains bulky and sturdy.

Above is Christopher Reeve both training and in costume as Superman - his muscles are well-formed, but his torso isn't like, eight pack abs and dehydrated - he's clearly building muscle mass and body fat in a healthy way, and it shows in his costume. He looks sturdy, and strong.

Above is golden age Superman next to a bodybuilder/powerlifter, which I think Superman's original design is supposed to evoke. He's not popping muscles through his suit, but he's clearly really fricking fit and strong. Even his waist is more close to the width of his chest than more narrow like you see in more contemporary illustrations.

My thought is that Clark's physique is a lot more like someone at the Highland Games. Built for strength and sturdiness. He doesn't have to keep lean because he's not worried about endurance and agility because he already has that from his powers. Big arms, broad chest, likely a little bit of a tummy. And if he's under layers like Clark usually dresses, he can easily be mistaken for pudgy instead of powerful.

In any case, that's my untrained viewpoint on the subject. Basically my sweet polite farmboy is basically a photosynthesizing plant with muscles. Wait, is that why Poison Ivy's pheromones can work on him???

[helv-ete]

Germany doodles I did a while ago

[muddiestpath]

Starting my little question rounds again, but this time I'm asking about people's Rooks! And since I don't really know much about anyone's anything (been avoiding spoilers like the plague), I'll just start with the basics:

Who is your Rook? What class did you pick for them and why? How did they end up with the background you choose? Please do add a picture!

Bonus question: Got any little "fun facts" about them? :3c

(Day is made! I've still got a store if bg3 asks from you that I'm saving bc I want to draw my answers)

I'll answer with my first Rook for now (have 4 but barely touched the other 3 passed CC)!

Lossan Mea Laidir! (he/him woman)

He is a warrior(reaper) with a shield based fighting style. Lots of siphoning life & necromantic damage.

He is part of the Lords of Fortune as a thrill seeker. Lossan Mea specialises in tomb raiding/dungeon delving, he is very smart about traps & puzzle. Just doesn't care about how injured he gets during a job. He joined pretty young after proving himself as a local guide to a LoF travelling through his secluded village on a job. He took advantage of how the treasure hunters couldn't tell how old dwarves are to lie & say he was an adult.

Fun facts:

"Fool's Gold" is the term I made up for a sect of LoF that are reckless & without any connections that could make them care about returning in one piece. The term is derogatory & it explains why Isabela is so curt with Lossan Mea.

Lossan Mea hates salt water & gets seasick very easily, often is mocked for it by outsiders who assume being based in Rivain & part of the LoF requires you to be good at swimming.

Despite this he can swim (had to learn when a tomb gets flooded) but Isabela calls it "surviving in water, not swimming".

His secluded village is an excuse for how his name doesn't match dwarven naming sense. Lossan Mea means "phosphorescence" Lossan being "blaze/flare" & Mea being "fat/rich/luxury".

Lossan Mea is afraid of living, growing old or just the thought of immortality. A great contrast to his Roëmænce Partnær™️ Emmrich.

He has looted a more derelict section of the grand necropolis before DA:V & is now having to work with the Mournwatchers who he is convinced know what he did.

His village is similar to Chasind in it's approach to mages & spirits so when he moved to Rivain it wasn't a shock. But he does not like the chantry.

[cody-cant-die]

Part of me wants to start posting more about the gym and my gym progress, but the fitness community on this site kind of sucks.

Any fitness related tag on this site is nothing but thirst traps and nudes. No info on fitness, nobody talking about their routine or their diet, no discussion of the latest research, etc.

Part if me wants to be the only good fitness-leaning blog on this site, but the other half doesnt want to be associated with it here. Threads has an awesome gym/fitness community though!

[notmuchtoconceal]

suspicious? i am in no way suspucious. i say you're suspicious! whaddya hidin in there, huh? i'm just mindin my own business. you sir, are imposing your will upon a free citizen. were it the appropriate time period, i would repay this disgrace with the challenge of a duel, but as that would be an absurd anachronism ending in needless barbarity, i will instead wish you good day, sir.

[fitnessitaliano]

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[vishalmarali]

How to Gain Weight Fast for Skinny People

If you're a skinny person looking to gain weight quickly, this guide is for you! Discover effective strategies, diet tips, and targeted exercises to help you pack on healthy pounds. Unlock your body's potential and achieve your weight gain goals with these proven techniques.

[iconhub2023]

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[thegainingdesk]

Two Night Stand

Just as Howard had guessed, the young man was loitering in the changing rooms when he entered. He'd seen the slim man watching him his entire set, changing from treadmill to elliptical to standing bike to keep a clear eyeline to Howard at all times.

Howard wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd found that he attracted more than a fair few men as he'd put on weight these past few years, and the gym was the perfect place to show off his developing figure. He couldn't exactly boast a powerlifter build, per se, but he had enough muscle underneath all the fat that he could show off how much weight he could lift, and enough to keep most of his fat in a firm, round gut at his center with comparatively less flab elsewhere on his body. Coupled with a thick dark beard and a thick pelt of coarse body hair, he often had twinks lining up for the opportunity to call him ‘daddy’; not something he was thrilled about at the grand age of thirty-four, but also not something he was in a rush to correct anyone wanting to fuck him over.

Howard made a show of getting changed and faced out into the changing rooms towards the young man, giving him a clear view of the spectacle. He lifted his shirt up slowly, allowing the hem to drag itself up over the curve of his gut, revealing the dark swirls of hair covering the mound of fat and his deep belly button. Once the shirt slid off his gut and Howard pulled it over his head, he looked over to see the man looking directly at him. He winked and the man hurriedly looked away; Howard made sure to maintain eye-contact, making sure to catch him each time he gave another quick glance. Howard reached down and hefted his gut a few times before reaching down further and giving his package a squeeze; that caught the man's attention alright, and this time he held his gaze, staring intently at Howard's gut.

“Not getting changed yourself then?” Howard called across the changing room.

The young man swallowed hard, before lifting up his shirt to reveal a tight, thin torso, with the faint outline of a six pack and a fine dusting of hair. He was about Howard's height, just slightly shorter than average, but more wiry than Howard had ever been, with prominent ribs and collar bones, and a prominent Adam's apple. Despite his short height, he was so thin he almost looked lanky. He was handsome, Howard thought; dark blond hair, a crooked smile and a nose that looked like it had been broken and not set properly at some point. “Just catching my breath,” the man replied.

Howard smirked and bent to pull down his shorts. He tried to make it sexy, but honestly, these days it was a struggle just to bend down around his gut and his shorts caught on his thick thighs, making him shimmy them down unceremoniously. By the time he stood back up, panting softly, the young man’s long erection was tenting his own shorts obviously.

Howard reached down and adjusted his balls in his boxers, partly for show, partly genuinely for comfort. “Fancy joining me in the showers?” he said casually. “I’m finding I've been getting really sweaty recently.” He felt himself growing hard. He knew he'd lost a few inches to his expanding fat pad, and he'd not been able to see his own cock under his gut for years, but he knew he still boasted an impressive manhood.

“I uhh… okay.” The man's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He coughed and tried again, deeper this time. “Yes, I mean. I'd like that.”

“I'm Howard,” Howard introduced himself as he walked past the man and around the corner to the showers.

“Guy,” the man answered. Howard could hear him follow behind him obediently.

“Nice to meet you Guy,” Howard said, turning on one of the shower heads and pulling his pants off. He handed them to Guy, who held them, dumbstruck for a moment, before lifting them up to his face and sniffing deeply. “You like this gut, Guy?”

Guy nodded, not taking Howard's boxers away from his face. His eyes were trained downwards; Howard knew that from this angle, his gut covered his crotch almost entirely, so he must be staring at his fat.

Howard stepped back into the stream of water, and rivulets began to flow over his tits, round his gut, down his rounded thighs and calves. “Would you like to touch this gut, Guy?”

Guy hurried to throw down Howard's boxers and pull his own shorts and underwear down; he was so hard and the motion so fast that his dick slapped up and hit his abs with a soft thwack. He stepped forward and ran his hands across Howard's love handles, squeezing them and using his fingers to dapple the soft skin and the fat underneath. He slipped his fingers beneath, into the crease above Howard's hips, and leant down to place one of Howard's nipples in his mouth, sucking for a few moments.

He pulled away. “You're so…” he began. He leant back in, kissing Howard's neck, his shoulders, his chin. Each kiss was paired with a small poke from Guy's fingers; Howard realised he was searching for pockets of fat around his body.

“Big?” Howard whispered. “Heavy? Wide? Manly?”

“Fat,” Guy finished. “You're so fat.”

Howard chuckled. “And you like that, do you? You like how fat I am?” Guy nodded. “Why don't you show me how much you like it then?” Howard nodded past his gut, down towards his crotch. Guy looked around nervously. “Now you're nervous?” Howard asked. “Don’t worry, most people rush straight off after the gym at this time. Besides, everyone knows this is the gay hookup gym, no-one would bat an eyelash.”

Guy swallowed hard and Howard licked his lips at the sight of his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his wiry neck. He looked around once more, nodded nervously, and sunk to his knees. Howard grew even harder as he felt Guy push his fat pad back to reveal more of his length, something he’d only realised men had started doing since he’d hit twenty stone or so. He shuddered slightly as he felt Guy’s warm mouth envelop his hardness for a few seconds, before pulling back and pushing Howard’s soft underbelly away and readjusting his position, trying to find a way to suck Howard off around all of the fat in the way.

Howard leant his head back and moaned. While Guy seemed to be taken by surprise with the practicalities of sucking off a fat man, he clearly had a few tricks up his sleeve, and enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Within a few minutes he was near climax and began to thrust himself into Guy’s mouth, who made some satisfying grunts of discomfort in response.

Just as Howard began to cum, pumping his load down Guy’s pretty throat, someone walked into the shower and the younger man jumped back so that the rest of Howard's cum sprayed across his chest and dribbled down his chin. Guy flushed red and turned away towards the wall, frantically wiping away the splatters of semen.

“Don't mind me,” Charlton, one of the gym's regulars, said as he stepped under the shower head on the other side of Howard. “I'd join you, but my husband says I've got to stop fucking people at the gym.” He leant around Howard's mass to peer at Guy’s arse. “How do you get all the cute ones Howie?”

Howard moved over to Guy and cupped his arse, bending down to his knees himself. “How about it?” he asked. “Fancy an audience?”

Guy gave a small shake of his head and continued to scrub at himself. Howard stood back up, bracing against his knees and straining as he did so. He stepped away from Guy and began to wash himself, taking the signal that the younger man had lost interest, for now.

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Guy said quietly after a while. Howard looked over and grinned as Charlton laughed.

“Just like me to ruin the fun!” Charlton said. He waved his dick over at the two of them. “Howie, you've got my number, let me know if you'd like a third later.”

Howard grabbed Guy’s wrist and led him out the shower. He nudged the small pile of their wet shorts and underwear with his toe. “Grab those,” he told Guy. “We can go to my flat, it's not far.”

Guy struggled to keep his hands off Howard on the short drive and in the lift up to Howard's floor. As he unlocked the door, Guy was already pulling Howard’s t-shirt up and undoing his belt for him, kissing his neck as he did so. Howard pulled him through to the bedroom and pushed him towards the bed, and Guy dutifully began stripping.

Howard kicked his trousers off and pulled a condom out of the drawer by his bedside table. “You're going to have to put it on me,” he told Guy. “Awkward with this thing in the way.” He thumped his gut a few times to illustrate his point. “Unless you want to top?”

Guys tongue practically fell out of his mouth at this, and he hurriedly pulled the condom out of the packet. “No, I'm happy to, you know, or whatever.” He sunk down to his knees and stared up at Howard over the crest of his gut. “It's so hot that you can't put this on yourself.”

“I mean I can,” Howard grumbled. “It's just easier to get someone else to do it.” He felt Guy roll the condom over his shaft and smooth out some air bubbles.

“How do you want me?” Guy asked. He turned towards Howard and stood waiting, his hard-on pulsing slightly.

Howard nodded towards the bed. “On the edge. However’s most comfortable for you.”

Guy climbed onto the bed, stretching his thighs wide to present his hole to Howard. Howard squirted some lube onto his fingers and ran them over Guy’s crack, before slipping a couple of fingers in and massaging for a moment or two. Guy arched his back and sighed.

Howard lined himself up with Guy as best he could, and pushed himself forward. His cock missed the mark and instead bounced painfully off of one of his cheeks. Howard winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Difficult to aim with this thing in the way.” He patted his gut.

“God that's hot,” Guy sighed.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Howard grumbled to himself. Maybe he did need to lose a little weight.

“We could try a different position?” Guy suggested. “Cowboy style, maybe, or it might help if we both lie on our sides?”

“No!” Howard snapped. “No, I can, I can do it,” he said, more calmly. He'd be damned if he’d gotten too fat to top someone properly. He fished under his gut and grabbed his equipment, using his hands to guide himself in. He found his mark and slid in slowly, as Guy moaned softly and pushed back against Howard's crotch.

The two men began to rock in sync, building up a rhythm. Howard's gut slapped into Guy's back, the claps ringing like a metronome. The two began to pick up pace, as Guy arched his back and Howard tried to reach around to grab the smaller man's cock; with his gut in the way, he just couldn't reach. Instead, he gripped Guy’s slender shoulders and put his effort into pumping. He could feel the fat on his arse, his tits, his gut shaking and vibrating and his heart fluttered in his chest as he breathed heavily. He pumped harder and gripped his own fat with one hand, inserting one finger deep into his own bellybutton. He thought about how fat he'd gotten, how much fatter he was sure to get, he thought about the man below him and how much smaller he was than him. His breath caught as he came, and he felt the condom fill up around his pole. Shaking, he rolled off of Guy and onto the bed.

“Did you..?” Howard asked.

Guy shook his head. “It's fine,” he said, panting and smiling. He placed a hand on Howard's gut and shook it. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“What does it feel like?” Guy asked afterwards, with his angular torso pressed into Howard’s broad, soft back and one arm draped across him, a hand slowly caressing his gut.

Howard laughed. “Topping? You never done it before?”

Howard felt Guy shake his head from behind. “No, I've- I mean not very often, but I have, you know- No, I mean, you know,” his hand gripped Howard's gut and shook it a little. “What does this feel like? Being fat?”

Howard laughed again. “You like that, do you?” He slapped his gut a few times, enjoying the feeling of his body rippling. “It's a bloody nuisance, I'll tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” Guy prompted. “How?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, you saw earlier, it's getting difficult to fuck guys in some positions without it getting in the way, difficult to put on condoms easily. You even struggled a bit when you were giving me a blowjob, right?” Guy nodded enthusiastically. “It's even getting difficult to piss standing up.” Howard could feel Guy’s cock hardening against his back.

“Really? Because you can't reach it you mean?” Excitement mounted in Guy’s voice.

“Reaching it's easy enough, it's being able to see that's an issue. Can't aim,” Howard explained.

“What else?” Guy urged Howard on.

“Fuck me, loads. Having to fight against my own body to tie my shoes, getting winded climbing the stairs, clothes not fitting right, not being able to join my mates when they play footy, getting the piss taken out of me by everyone who thinks they're a bloody comedian,” Howard said. By this point, Guy was grinding his hard dick against Howard's leg.

“But you love it?” Guy asked, his voice catching.

“Fuck yes,” Howard replied. “There's something about being big, you know?” Guy gave a small whimper in reply. “In basically any situation, at work, with mates, at the gym, I'm always the biggest one there. Sure, a lot of it's fat, but men always respect the big guy, you know? Like it's primal.”

“How much do you weigh?” Guy asked. He moved to straddle Howard, his hand stroking his cock.

“A little over three hundred pounds,” Howard lied. He was close, but had never actually broken the big three-oh-oh. He'd met enough of these chaser types to know that 300 was the magical number though, and was happy to fudge the numbers to make a twink’s fantasy come true.

“Christ,” Guy gasped. “You're over double my weight.” Within thirty seconds, he tensed up and yelled out as thick hot cum sprayed over Howard's gut, pooling in his belly button and dribbling down its curve onto the sheets.

Guy fell down onto Howard and kissed him, hard jawline bumping into soft. “You're incredible,” he panted. “I could order some pizzas maybe?”

A couple of hours later, three boxes sat on Howard's coffee table, while Howard stretched out on his sofa with one hand down his boxers and one hand cradling his stretched gut. He'd done his best to show off for Guy, and had eaten almost two whole pizzas in quick succession. “Go on,” he told Guy. “Eat up.”

Guy groaned, clutching his flat stomach. He'd just finished a whole pizza by himself - clearly not a feat he was used to. “They're your slices,” he said feebly, nudging the two final slices of Howard's second pizza back to the larger man.

“I want you to have them,” Howard said, pushing them back. “And I think you want to have them too.” Guy shook his head. “You're telling me,” Howard grabbed Guy’s hand and placed it on his gut. “That you don't want one of these of your own?” Guy moaned a little. “That you just want to fuck fat guys? No. You want this for yourself. Eat.”

Guy closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, and sat forward, grabbing both slices and stacking them together before taking a large bite out of both. “That's it,” Howard whispered. “Good boy. Eat them quick, before your body has a chance to register. Good boy, there we go.”

It took fifteen minutes, and by the end Guy was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing his stomach and suppressing sickly hiccups, but eventually the slices disappeared. He sat quietly, moaning and cradling the invisible curve of his stomach. Once it became clear that he wasn't in a position for conversation, Howard put the TV on and left him to it.

“I should go,” Guy said quietly after two episodes of Doctor Who. He stood and began to pull his t-shirt back on.

“You don't have to,” Howard said, making no move to stop him. “You could stay the night, if you wanted.”

“No, it's late,” Guy said. “I was supposed to meet up with some friends.” He winced as he buttoned his jeans. “Maybe we could do this again sometime though?”

Howard sighed. He never really did ‘again’. “Maybe,” he said. “I uh, I'm only in Portsmouth for a few months for a work thing, I probably won't be uhh…”

“No, it's fine, I get it,” Guy said with a thin smile. “It's fine if this is just a one-time thing. Thanks for umm,” he looked over Howard's body, still laid out across the sofa, his gut overlapping his too-tight pants. “You've helped me figure some stuff out. Thank you.”

Howard heaved himself to his feet and stuck his hand out. “Always happy to figure some stuff out with someone,” he said. Guy took Howard's offered hand and shook it. “All the best Guy.”

“You too.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the sofa. 

-

Howard groaned as he lowered himself into the seat, grateful for the easing of the pressure on his feet. He closed his eyes and just sat for a moment, breathing just a little too heavily for his liking. Ever since he'd crossed the 300 pound mark almost a decade ago, he'd been eagerly eyeing up 350, but he was starting to worry that it might have been just a little too much weight for him. He was just so big these days, and at more than a little ways past forty, he was starting to think that the big leagues, weight-wise, were a young man's game.

He opened his eyes slowly and reached towards the menu. No need to go hungry, anyway, whether or not he wanted to get much bigger, especially with his company footing the bill. A couple of starters, he thought, a big main, maybe one of those steaks, and then some big heavy dessert. That should just about hit the spot. He squeezed his overhang just a touch and sighed. Sitting down, with the dull ache in his feet fading away and his breathing going back to its usual light wheeze, rather than a heavy pant, he started to forget his earlier apprehension, just a few moments before. Being big felt fucking great, didn't it? What difference would another ten or fifteen pounds make, really?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across his menu, and he looked up, expecting to see the waiter. What he saw instead was a wall of flesh - a man stood in front of him, outweighing Howard by, god, who knew how much? At least a hundred pounds, maybe even one-fifty. The man's soft gut hung down, almost touching the table, and his arms sat awkwardly at his sides, visibly pushed away from the man's huge, soft torso by gut and tit and roll. He looked like something out of one of Howard's fantasies, a scale he'd fervently imagined himself at, but never really aspired to.

"Howard?" the man asked. "It is Howard isn't it?"

Howard was stumped. He'd remember this man if they'd met, surely? Fantasised about him for weeks afterwards presumably, wistfully thinking back to that human barge he'd met in some business meeting or other?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a while. "I'm really trying to remember…"

"It's Guy," the man - Guy - said. "We met about eleven or twelve years ago." When Howard's face didn't lose its confused stupor he added - "In Portsmouth? I, uhh, look a little different I suppose." He punctuated this last bit by laying his hand on top of his gut.

Howard thought back, he'd not spent long in Portsmouth after all, six months maybe. Had he met a Guy? He looked up at the round face in front of him, subtracted ten years, a couple of chins, tried to imagine cheek bones beneath those jowls, noticed the bent nose that looked like it had been set badly, years before…

"Jesus fuck, Guy, " Howard said softly, his eyes widening. "Twink Guy?" he asked, his voice high. This whale in front of him couldn't have ever been that small fry, could he?

Guy laughed. "Twink Guy, I like that!" he said. "Can't say there's been much call for a nickname like that for a while now though." He smiled at Howard. "Are you waiting for someone? Maybe I could join you?"

Howard made a blustering noise that could be interpreted as a positive, and gestured at the seat opposite him. Guy pulled the chair back, far away from the table edge, and slowly, carefully, deliberately lowered himself down into it. Howard marveled at the practiced routine of it all - how far back the chair needed to go, the care with which the sturdy oak chair needed handling, the way that every movement was slow and deliberate and carefully considered to avoid bumping into anything, everything, around him. Most of all he marveled at how Guy barely seemed to register that any of this was out of the ordinary.

"God, it's good to get off your feet, isn't it," Guy sighed.

Howard studied Guy, trying to remember the rail thin twenty-something year old underneath the blubber. His face was huge, round cheeks bulging over sagging jowls around squinting eyes. His body was enormously broad - tits sloped down a mountainous gut down into his elbows. Even his fingers were fat - stubby little sausages attached to pillow palms.

Guy reached over his belly and picked up the menu, resting it on the shelf of his gut. “Shall we just get one of each of the starters and sides and share?” he asked after a while.

Howard’s eyebrows rose. He looked back at the menu - there was at least ten starters and the same amount of sides. How much was this man planning on eating?

“I'll foot the bill, don't worry” Guy said, misinterpreting Howard's reaction. “The least I can do.” He slapped the top of his gut, setting it swaying. “After all, I've got you to thank for this.”

Howard’s mouth closed and opened a few times. “Sorry, I'm not sure I… You've got me to thank?”

“Oh absolutely!” Guy said, nodding. His double chin shook with the motion.

At that point the waiter arrived, interrupting Guy. They both ordered a pint of ale, Guy ordered all the starters and sides, as he'd said, and Howard ordered the steak.

“God, that sounds good actually. Two of those. Medium-rare, yeah. And we’ll want the dessert menu after. Perfect, yeah, thanks.” Guy turned back to Howard. “Where were we? Yes! Thanking you, that was it.” He leant back, and Howard could see his shirt pulling out of his waistband to reveal a slab of pale flesh hanging out even while sitting. “After we, you know, after that night anyway, I just sort of knew I guess.”

“Knew what?” Howard asked.

“That I wanted to be fat!” Guy said loudly. Howard sank down in his seat as people at other tables looked over. “I mean, I knew before then, I guess, but it was all, I don't know, wanking over YouTube videos and those stupid stories about people getting paid to fatten themselves up or something. I never, god, I never imagined I could really do something like that.”

Their drinks arrived and the two were quiet for a while as they took their first large gulps. “And then you met me,” Howard offered.

“And then I met you!” Guy repeated. “God, the number of fat guys I must have stared at before you.” He laughed. “I thought I was being so subtle, but clearly you noticed pretty quick.”

Howard laughed as well. “Yeah, subtle didn't really come to mind,” he said. “I thought you were cruising, honestly. You were actually doing that to any fat guy you saw? Just, down the street?”

“Christ yes,” Guy laughed. “They must have all thought I was a creep.”

At that point, the first of the starters arrived. Guy fell quiet as he focussed on eating. Howard could see how he's gotten so large - eating was clearly serious business to this man. Each bite was relished, with time taken to enjoy the flavours, but no time was wasted - as soon as one bite was swallowed, more food would immediately be brought to his lips.

After the starters and while they waited for their mains, Guy spoke. “You know, I always imagined how much weight you were putting on,” he told Howard. “And I always sort of, I don't know, compared myself to the image of you I had in my head. Especially once I reached three hundred pounds, and I was so much softer than I remember you being, and then when I hit three-hundred and fifty, four hundred, and I thought, god, when did he hit these weights? How much bigger did he get? And I started to imagine, you know, we'd meet at some point and I'd have managed to get, I don't know, ten, twenty pounds bigger. And it'd be, god this is so stupid saying it out loud, like you'd passed the torch on or something. Honestly, it's a big reason I've been pushing myself to still get bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” Howard said, rubbing his gut. He'd done his best to eat half of the food on the table, and while not full, he could feel himself slowing down; in comparison, Guy seemed to be impatiently waiting for more food. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so small.

“God, no!” Guy said. “I don’t mean, no, I'm not disappointed or anything. I do know, you know, that I've kind of taken this whole gaining thing further than most people are into. I never really, honestly I mean, thought I'd meet you again or whatever. It was always just something knocking around in the back of my head. I didn't even really know that you were a gainer, you might have lost it all for all I- fuck, sorry, I don't even- are you even a gainer? I just assumed.”

Howard waved his hand. “Don't worry, yeah, I… well. I mean, fifty pounds in ten years, it's hardly the kind of weight you've been putting on. But yeah, I'm on all the sites and stuff.”

“Hey, anyone else would be pulling their hair out over fifty pounds,” Guy said. “Us guys just have a skewed perspective about this stuff.”

Howard shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making progress and sometimes I really look at myself and see just how big I am.”

“How big are you, if you don't mind me asking?” Guy asked.

“Three-sixty-something these days,” Howard said. “Probably a little more - lots of business trips. And you?”

“Just hit five hundred a couple of weeks ago,” Guy replied proudly. “Hit a bit of a plateau since, but it's great finally getting there, you know?”

Howard gave a low whistle. “That's a big boy number right there.” Guy laughed. “You're going for those kinds of weights then? Five-hundred plus?”

Guy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “It's all I think about,” he said. “The more weight I put on, the more I want to put on. It's like, okay, when we first met that time, right? I got all excited and I decided I could put on, I don't know, twenty pounds, see how that felt. And it was nothing. So I thought, okay, fifty pounds, and then I'd put on fifty pounds and I was starting to feel chubby but…”

“It wasn't as big as you'd thought it would be?” Howard asked.

“God, not nearly anything like it,” Guy agreed. “Like, fifty pounds you know? That's a lot of weight! And it just didn't look like it. So I went up to two-hundred and fifty, and that wasn't enough, then three hundred, and I thought, surely, surely three hundred’s where you start to feel big. And that's how big you were! I fucked other big guys, don't get me wrong, but you were the first - I built you up into a bit of myth in my head I think.”

“I'm flattered,” Howard said.

“Well, I got to three-hundred pounds, as big as Howard, and it still wasn't big enough,” Guy continued. “So I added another fifty, and that wasn't enough, and another, and four-hundred still didn't feel big enough.” He sighed. “You never feel like that?”

Howard spread his hands on the table and studied them for a while. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not often. I do feel big, most of the time. Big enough. But every so often I catch a glimpse of myself and I just think… is this really twenty-five stone? Surely I should be huge by now? When I was younger I couldn't imagine how big that must be and now…”

“Now it's just the size you are,” Guy finished. “It's normal.”

Howard nodded as their mains got brought over. Howard tried to hide his nervousness at the size of the portion; chips were piled high next to a steak as big as his face and over an inch thick. Guy licked his lips and started eating immediately, stopping only when the sides got brought over.

It took nearly two hours for Howard to get through his steak, sides and the selection of desserts Guy had ordered. Guy watched him, having finished long before, occasionally offering words of encouragement, but generally just filling Howard in on his life; the company he'd started, the relationships with increasingly larger men who were just never big enough, the years and years of gluttony and sloth that had built him into the man Howard saw before him.

Howard leant back and drummed his fingers on his gut. It has been a while since he'd felt it so taut, and the sensation left him rock hard. He opened one eye and watched Guy for a while.

“I've got a room upstairs,” Howard said after a while. “If you wanted to…?”

Guy smiled. “I thought you said you were married now.”

“We’re open,” Howard reassured him. “I spend a lot of time away with work and we both know that we’ll be better off if we get to relieve some tension every so often.”

“Well then,” Guy said with raised eyebrows. “Shall we?”

They both stood, Howard feeling particularly spritely for the first time in a while; he found himself waiting for Guy to haul himself to his feet. The two made their way slowly to the elevator, which sunk noticeably as the two men entered.

As the doors closed, Guy reached over and put a hand on Howard's love handle and squeezed. “Just like I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Hopefully a little bigger?” Howard said.

“Don't worry,” Guy said. “I can see all the progress you've made. But it's that same solid ball gut I've been having wet dreams about for the past decade.” He slapped it a few times, resulting in a dull thump. He slid a finger through a gap between the buttons in Howard’s shirt and stroked the furry skin around his belly button.

The elevator door opened, and the two made their way to Howard's hotel room. Howard let them in and Guy made his slow way over to the bed and gingerly sat down. Howard stood in front of him and let his gut bump into Guy's face, who reached up and began to unbutton Howard's shirt for him.

“Oh yes,” Guy said. “I've missed this a lot.” He ran his fingers through the hair on Howard's gut and up onto his soft chest as Howard pulled off his jacket and shirt and threw them to the side. Guy leant forward and nuzzled his nose into Howard's belly button, before replacing it with his tongue as he worked his fingers under Howard's overhang to undo his belt and pull his trousers down.

Guy lifted Howard's gut slightly, and deftly pushed the fat back slightly to reveal more of his hardening cock. “This is bigger than I remember,” he said.

“My cock?” Howard asked. “Really?”

Guy laughed. “Sorry, no. I meant your fat pad.”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Suppose that would be a bit too much to ask for.”

“I personally have come to enjoy the effects of fat on a man's cock,” Guy said.

“Not one I'm particularly thrilled with myself,” Howard grumbled.

“Well maybe I can make it up to you,” Guy said, before slipping his mouth over Howard's dick.

Howard's breath caught. The key to giving a good blowjob, Howard had learnt over the years, is to really, truly, genuinely want that dick in your mouth, and Guy was clearly hungry for it. No opportunity was missed to taste or lick or suck on any and all exposed skin. His balls, his shaft, his head, his taint, all of it was lovingly cared for in turn. It wasn't long before Howard was shooting down Guy's throat.

Guy sat back and smiled as he swallowed. Howard thought back to how prominent his Adam’s apple used to be - it was now barely visible in his lardy neck.

Howard sank down to his knees, and lifted Guy’s gut to gain access to his belt buckle. As he undid his trousers, Guy pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing soft, undulating flesh. Together, the two slowly managed to peel Guy’s clothes off of his body until he was sat in only his socks.

Howard once more lifted Guy’s gut and pushed back at the soft fat filling his crotch, unveiling the nub of his cock. He leant forward to lick the exposed head, but quickly had to pull back as his face became enveloped with fat from above.

“You don't have to,” Guy said. “I know that it's not easy to-”

“Lean back,” Howard said, pushing back on Guy’s torso. “And hold your belly.”

Guy obeyed, laying down on the bed so that his flab cascaded back towards his face. Howard pushed down on his fat pad, revealing another inch or so of cock. As Howard took it into his mouth, licking its meager length and the small scrotum, he thought back to the long cock Guy had the last time they'd met, now swallowed on thick fat.

Howard inhaled deeply, taking in the sour musk of Guy’s crotch and continued to lap at the small length available to him. He began to pump the fat surrounding his cock, using it to jerk the length he couldn't see. The wall of fat above him began to shake and quiver, until sticky cum spurted out. Howard noted how sweet it tasted, and wondered if his own cum had gotten sweeter as he'd gotten fatter.

“That was great,” Guy said.

“Glad to be of service,” Howard replied.

Guy shuffled his weight back up the bed, setting the frame creaking and groaning. He patted the bed next to him. “I think I was big spoon last time.”

“I think you might have been,” Howard said. From this angle, Guy looked almost impossibly wide. His gut spilled out, pulled down and to the sides by gravity, so that he resembled a large pillow. Howard settled down next to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, and curled up to the large mass. “I don't think these beds are really built for men our size.”

“Not two of us, anyway,” Guy said. “I can go, if that's easier?”

Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We can stay a while.”

The two lay quietly for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the room.

“It's been a while,” Guy said after a while.

“What has?” Howard asked.

“Since I've been with anyone,” Guy clarified. “Once you reach a certain size, the mechanics all get a bit awkward.”

“How so?” Howard asked.

Guy sighed. “I can barely even reach my cock these days,” he admitted. “Bit of a faff for someone else to reach it, too. Generally guys just feed me these days, then deal with themselves.”

“You okay with that?” Howard asked.

“Oh yeah,” Guy insisted. “Don't worry about me. Not much difference these days between eating and sex for me. But this was… this was nice.”

“You still like it then?” Howard asked. “Being big? Getting bigger?”

“God yes,” Guy beamed. “There's nothing like it. I can't imagine stopping. How about you? Happy to stop where you are?”

“You know, I might well be open to packing a little more on,” Howard said.

“You let me know if you're ever up to getting fed then, eh?” Guy said. “I saw you struggling with those kiddy portions. You’re going to need pushing if you want to get really big.”

“Is that so?” Howard asked, laughing. 

Guy struggled to sit up. “Absolutely,” he said. “I distinctly remember you pushing me to eat two extra slices of pizza beyond what I thought I could. That lesson stuck with me. It's time you learnt it too.” He hauled himself to the side of the bed and panted for a moment or two. “I'll leave you be. Can't have you hanging off the bed all night.”

“Leave your number?” Howard said.

Guy smiled. “Definitely,” he said. He looked down at the clothes strewn about on the floor. “I uh… don't suppose you'd pick up my clothes for me? Bending down’s a bit of an ordeal these days.”

Howard chuckled and helped Guy collect his clothes and put them on. “Let's make sure it's not another decade, eh?”

Guy smiled. “Of course,” he said and patted Howard's gut. “We've got to make sure to put some meat on these bones.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the bed. 

[pettyprocrastination]

Leg Day

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female Powerlifter!Reader

Summary: You first catch Art Donaldson's eye in the university gym when all you want to do is hit back and biceps before class, the tennis player finds himself quite caught in your physique.

Warnings: foul language, smut, oral (f receiving), Art eats pussy and likes your thighs a whole lot. Reader is described as muscular. One line describes reader as not looking like Tashi in terms of physique.

Word Count: 1k

Author's note: Forcing myself to get back into writing at the same time im forcing myself to get back to the gym :') take this lil ficlet as a sign of my love for those who still follow me on here lmaoo.

Art adored your thighs. 

You didn’t look like Tashi. Not that there was anything wrong with that in his mind, of course. But the physiques differed greatly. The star tennis player of Stanford had a lean build from her years of training and perfecting her sport. Long legs that covered the court in smooth strides and toned arms that delivered a vicious backhand. 

The same body he and Patrick had nearly shared that one fateful night in a dingey hotel room when they should have been sleeping before their match in the morning. The same body he had found his gaze lingering on a touch too long to be appropriate for his best friend's girlfriend. 

And the same body you called him out for drooling over in the campus gym when all you wanted to do was a simple arm workout before your 10 am. 

“So are you actually going to use the bench or are you just gonna sit on it and stare at her like a fucking creep for another twenty minutes?” 

You were not Tashi Duncan. 

Strong arms crossed over one another as you waited for him to either say something or move, neither of which his brain could comprehend as you stood before him expectantly. A powerful, if not a tad intimidating physique supported by thick, muscular quads built from years of lifting heavy in sweat-filled weight rooms since you were a little girl that grew tired of soccer. 

Then cheer. 

Then volleyball. 

The gymnastics. 

Powerlifting was the one sport that finally stuck. 

“It makes me feel strong.” You had explained your love for the sport to him one night. With his head laying in your lap, the textbook he had carried with him to your dorm under the excuse of needing help studying now laid discarded on your floor as he listened to your story. “Seeing how much I can lift, how it feels to finally make a weight you’ve been struggling with for so long. It feels like you’re proving something, you know? Especially when you’re one of the only girls in the weight room.” 

Art could feel the testament to your craft under him. The thick corded muscle of your quads beneath his head as your fingers carded through his hair absentmindedly. Legs that were hugged by every pair of shorts you wore or hidden beneath the same pair of Stanford sweatpants whenever you felt a chill in the air. He found himself dreading the coming of winter as the two of you began to spend more time together. 

He wasn’t sure when the admiration began to shift into something deeper, slowly turning from one athlete showing respect for another’s commitment to their sport into a hormonal college freshman staring at your ass in spandex shorts each time he bumped into you at the campus gym. 

What he did know was that the night he finally found himself between your legs was one he would never forget. How quickly the pair of you shed your clothes in one anothers embrace, turning your room into nothing more than a collection of discarded study packets and kicked off Stanford merch telling the story that Art would no doubt replay in his mind for the entirety of winter break. 

The soft smile on your face as he crawled on top of you, pressing fervent kisses to every inch of your body that you would allow him access. How he memorized each microscopic reaction, that a kiss to your neck would make you giggle but turn into a shuddering gasp if he dug his teeth into the skin. How you softened in his arms when he ran his tongue along the scar lining your hip, one he would have to ask you about someday. 

But dear God, he could write poetry about your legs. 

The feeling of them wrapping around his head while he lapped at your cunt with tentative kitten licks that soon turned into devouring you with a desperation that could no doubt be heard through the walls. Your muscles twitching and trembling from his touch as you cried out his name with an arched back and scrambling hands, desperately trying to reach him until you found purchase in his soft curls, gripping just tight enough to verge on being painful. His own moans mixing with yours, poor bastard getting so lost in giving you pleasure he didn't even realize when he began to grind his hips into your mattress, desperately searching for a release while helping you reach your own. 

To hear your voice pitch into an airy whine as your thighs tightened around his head. Tighter and tighter as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm, hips twitching against his mouth still working away against your dripping cunt in a way that verged on being gluttonous until you pulled him away with a sharp tug on his hair. 

In the aftermath, a silence settled over the two of you like a soft blanket. Spit-slicked lips laid feather-light kisses against the still twitching muscles of your thighs, pressing against the blooming bite marks that he knew would just barely peek out from the cuff of your shorts you wore during your morning training sessions. A minuscule stake of claim that he had no business branding you with given that he was too chickenshit to take you out on a real date. 

Had you opened your eyes, you’d see that his were already trained on you with a softness you weren’t yet ready to see. Admiring the rise and fall of your chest with a faint smile on his face and the desire to take you out properly. To scrounge up enough money from his bank account after the room & board payments bleed him dry to some small burger shop or maybe the local theater to see you outside of the walls of your dorm or the university gym, wearing something nice and laughing at his jokes before kissing him goodnight. To sit in the stands of his next match as his girlfriend and congratulate him on his win with an overly obnoxious kiss that he would swear was humiliating but made him preen under your praise like a peacock during mating season. To do all of the downright nauseatingly romantic bullshit every nineteen year old boy wanted to do with the girl he was too afraid to actually make a move on. 

But not yet. 

“Have you ever considered wrestling? You’ve got a killer leg lock.”

[mintyeggs]

tma shitposts

i am part of the martin powerlifter build truther gang

[elder-moth]

Okay, real talk though I'm a little disappointed that Halsin has more of a bodybuilder build than a powerlifter build.

Like, if he had the power lifter build he could be a bear in more than one sense if you catch my meaning.

Like, would a build like this not suit him? Am I crazy?

[lesbianhalflifeposting]

Anyone that doesn't depict Chell as having the build of a powerlifter with thighs thick enough to crack skulls like walnuts is blind to the wonders of the universe and that's just where I'm at.

[sfde8871]

Any chance on bears/powerlifters with the bulk build?