#signs you are gaining muscle not fat

[yourfitnessgoal]

Top 5 Signs of Gaining Muscle in Females

Gaining muscle as a female can be a very tricky and at times confusing thing. Unlike men, they have lower levels of testosterone—a critical hormone responsible for muscle development. Still, these hormonal differences do not mean women cannot build muscle. The correct training regimen, coupled with a perfect diet, can do the trick. Knowing these signs of muscle growth will keep you motivated and…

[thegnomelord]

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

[lunarw0rks]

SIMON X PLUS-SIZED S/O | HEADCANONS

warning(s): N/SFW (18+), smut/fluff/slight angst, implications of fatphobia, insecurity, body image mention, petnames, size kink (not for reader)??, softdom!simon, afab/fem!reader

w.c: 0.7k

˖⁺‧₊˚ MAIN MASTERLIST ♡ GHOST MASTERLIST ˚₊‧⁺˖

i'm a firm believer that SIMON loves plus-sized partners. he's not the most experienced with relationships, but above all, he enjoys bigger bodies most. so soft between his calloused hands. and warm — which is the perfect aid for his awful circulation.

and god forbid you have any qualms about your size? whether "thick", "chubby", or "fat", he'd never mind. call him crazy, but nothing hits the spot like a cushiony lover to thaw his stubborn heart. oh, how he tried to treat you the same as the rest, deflect and avoid the attention entirely. but there was something so radiant about you. as if your body was meant for him. to hold, to appreciate, to claim — to love.

SIMON grew tired of the superficial propaganda, frankly. no time for it. tomorrow isn't guaranteed for anyone, but especially not for him. for years, he felt trapped in a slump of wasted time, wasted potential. wasted emotions. bitterness for the sake of it, with no gain.

he found sweetness with you, inside and out. every inch of skin, all the bends and indents, ridges and curves that covered you. the stretch marks and cellulite that reminded him of paintings he'd seen in foreign countries; women's buxom bodies worshiped with each stroke of the brush.

once he had you, he knew he had to keep you. earn you. remind you every single day how breathtaking every bit of you was. in some ways, SIMON understands what it's liked to be loathed by nearly every passing stranger. the crinkled noses, squinted eyes, and taunting whispers that seem to follow him everywhere. but you? not a chance in hell he'd let you feel that again.

learns how to spot the signs of discomfort, which wasn't difficult since hyper-vigilance is his status quo. comparing yourself to others around, shrinking into your seat out of habit— that look of hurt in your eyes. he always gives a firm squeeze to your hip or hand, sometimes a faint whisper only you'll understand. "breathe, love." he rasps, not loosening his grip until your tense muscles relax.

even if not at the time or for several days, he always finds a way to reassure you later on. you're being seen by him, even when he's not always with you. there isn't a moment where he isn't yearning for more precious time with you. sometimes, he'll stand behind you in front of the mirror, chin resting on your shoulder. never breaks eye contact, unless you do first. raises his fingers to rest under your chin and adjusts your gaze until you're forced to admire yourself. "my gorgeous girl, look at her." SIMON whispers, pecking along your jaw.

he'd be lying if he said there weren't... other perks to the relationship. so much for his big hands to grip and enjoy, leaving marks for his eyes only the next day. crescent indents of his nails on the fat of your hips, reminding you of what you do to him. the night he had his pelvis flush against your backside, splitting you open on his length. the arch of your back, the jiggle of your ass and tits with every push of his hips. christ, he would do this forever if he could.

his hands often roam, finding purchase anywhere that will ground him. if he's not careful, you'll have him coming undone mere seconds after he is inside you. it's the vision of you; gaped mouth, slick with sweat and arousal, tummy squished against his firm build as his hips grind deep, hitting all your favorite spots.

god, and how you never seem to trust his strength fully. even when he's proved you wrong time and time again like you weigh nothing. and for him, you probably do. that sweet, bashful look in your eyes when he flips you over at the speed of light. or when he pulls you onto his lap, aching cock nestled between your thick thighs.

your hitch in breathing when he gives your plump pussy a solid smack — enough to keep you focused on the moment again. his thick fingers part your folds afterward, stimulating with your clit apologetically. "pay attention, baby. need you here otherwise 'm not gonna be able to cum. you don't want that, do you?" you can practically feel the smirk against your ear, using every ounce of strength within you to focus. he never makes it easy.

that blitzed expression never seems to fade, despite many, many nights of practice. is it wrong of him to hope it never does?

« divider cred. - cafekitsune »

[yan-lorkai]

I’m not sure if I can request this and I don’t know much about Halloween but I can totally imagine the first year gang starting a little pumpkin farm at Ramshackle. They’d carve pumpkins together and maybe sell some of them to earn a little pocket money

If it’s too much, no worries. just ignore this. Have a great day

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This is such a lovely idea tbh, now i kinda of want to do something like this with my friends aaaa. This was supposed to be posted at 6am as always and i forget to queue it lol. Anyway, enjoy it darling!

The Ramshackle Dorm had never been busier nor more vibrant than now. It all started with a simple idea from Ace: “Hey, why don’t we grow some pumpkins here?” he had said a sunny afternoon, eyes glinting with mischief as gestured to the dead garden of his dorm.

“We can carve them for Halloween, and maybe even sell a few. Easy money, right?” He turned to Epel, who, just as mischievously, nodded.

With a few enthusiastic nods from Jack and Deuce, the plan was set in motion. Soon, even Sebek, who had initially scoffed at the idea as "a frivolous waste of time," found himself secretly invested when Malleus found out and praised him for having a hobby with a bunch of friends.

Days turned into weeks, and the once dead, wild yard of the Ramshackle Dorm was transformed. The first-year gang tilled the soil, planted seeds, and tended to their patch diligently. They took turns watering the sprouts, pulling out weeds, and shooing away curious crows. It was hard work, but there was a certain joy in it.

Jack took special pride in watching the tiny green shoots grow into fat, round pumpkins, while Epel appreciated the physical labor - he said that in that way he could gain muscles. Ace and Deuce made it a game, challenging each other to see who could grow the biggest pumpkin, which led to much bickering and laughter.

The yard was filled with the warm, earthy scent of pumpkins, and the air was filled with laughter. Each carved pumpkin was a reflection of its creator, scattered around the steps and windows of Ramshackle, glowing with flickering candles as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As the pumpkins ripened, the dorm's front yard slowly turned into a sea of orange, each pumpkin unique in size and shape. On one particularly crisp afternoon, as Halloween approached, they gathered around to start carving. Carving tools in hand, they sat in a circle, some humming, others chatting about what designs they’d make.

Ace boasted that he would create the scariest face, while Deuce shyly admitted he wanted to make a pumpkin with a cute smile so he could take a photo and sent it to his mother. Epel’s was, of course, carved with incredible detai l— a miniature masterpiece of intricate patterns, as he was used to carve apples. Jack’s was simple and classic, just like him. And Sebek, determined to outshine the rest, carved an elaborate dragon that he claimed was a tribute to his master, Malleus.

“Not bad, huh?” Ace said, admiring their work. “I mean, I could probably sell mine for way more than any of yours, but still.” He smirked, dodging a playful punch from Deuce.

“We’ll see about that,” You shot back, wiping your hands on your overalls. “Who wouldn’t want to buy one of mine?”

Throughout the day, the first-years ran the stand, chatting with students and selling their carved pumpkins. Sebek was surprisingly the best salesperson, his loud voice catching everyone’s attention and his pride making each pumpkin sound like a royal treasure. Epel made sure every customer left with a smile, slipping them a little extra vine or a perfect pumpkin seed as a token. Even Grim, though not directly involved in the growing process, found himself helping out, lured by the promise of sharing in the profits.

With their pumpkins carved, the group turned to the next phase of their plan. They set up a small stand by the gate, decorating it with the leftover vines and smaller pumpkins. A hand-painted sign read, "Pumpkins for Sale! Buy 1, Get 1 Free (if you can guess who carved it)!" It was Ace’s idea, of course, to add a little game to attract more customers. They were soon joined by curious students from other dorms, many who had heard about the little farm project and wanted to see the fruits (or rather, gourds) of their labor.

You still were surprised that their idea really attracted people. Even Sam was there, examining the pumpkins.

By the end of the evening, the pumpkin patch looked a bit emptier, but your pockets were a little heavier. All of you were tired, but it was the good kind of tired, where your cheeks hurt from smiling and your muscles ache in a satisfying way. As you sat together on the steps of Ramshackle, trapped between Deuce and Ace, watching the last of the daylight fade, there was a warm sense of accomplishment between them.

“This was a good idea,” Jack said, breaking the comfortable silence. “We should do it again next year.”

“Yeah,” Epel said, stretching out his arms. “Maybe we’ll even beat the big guys at their own game. Imagine if this little patch becomes the talk of Halloween.”

"What if other dorms try to do something like this, though?" You asked them.

You had so much fun those past few months, working at their side after clubs ended and the homework was made. You laughed, you chased them when they teamed up to tease you. Overall, it was the most fun you had since coming to this world.

Ace, who was using your left shoulder as a pillow, leaned up so he could see your eyes. "If this happens..." he looked at the other boys before catching your eyes again. "Then we'll crush them, no doubt."

"Figuratively speaking, right?"

Deuce smiled spread through his face as Epel laughed and Sebek and Jack tried to hide their face from you.

"Yeah... Figuratively speaking, of course, Prefect."

The others nodded, their eyes bright with ideas about what to do if the other students tried to do something like that.

As the night settled in, the carved pumpkins flickered warmly, casting playful shadows across the yard. And you felt as if, for just a moment, like you were back home with your small, happy family — gathered around a shared project, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air with something brighter than any candle could provide.

If you were here the next year, then you wanted to do the same thing with them again. And if you aren't... You wanted them to continue that little tradition.

[olomaya]

Get Pumped!

This started as just a simple solution to allow my Sims to work out without a TV, radio or gym equipment present but I’m a fitness nut so I knew I couldn’t stop there. I love working out and am always trying out new workouts or gyms like people try out food or clothes. It’s one of my favorite hobbies IRL so I was happy to try and make more exercise/fitness things for my athletic Sims.

This is the Exercise Mat I previewed a few weeks (months?) ago and I added a few more features like the ability to teach classes and also free weights (dumbbells and kettlebell).

Credit/Thanks: @aroundthesims for the free weights and kettlebell which are hers. I only recategorized them to Sports/Hobbies. Mats and board are EA. Animations by me, Mixamo and EA!

All the info and download link are after the jump, read through it all before downloading!

Exercise Mat:

Sims can do different floor and body weight exercises on the mat, which are skill gated:

Sit ups, squats: Level 2

Push ups, single-leg squats, bicycle crunches: Level 3

Burpees: Level 4

Sims can also stretch which has benefits if you do it before and/or after exercising. 

Stretching before: the Feeling Limber moodlet will prevent your Sim from getting fatigued so long as it is active

Stretching after: the Feeling Limber moodlet will remove soreness if you have it

If there is an instructor mat on the lot, you can assign the mat to the instructor mat so Sims will use it for classes

Instructor Mat: This mat lets Sims who have Athletic skill 5 or higher teach exercise classes. 

Assign Instructor - sets who the instructor will be for the mat

Schedule Class - self-explanatory; select a time a date to host a class

Start Class - if you don’t want to wait, you can start a class now. Instructors will wait 20 sim minutes (tunable) before starting the class to allow interested Sims to join.

Toggle Stereo - requires IP to work, adds a stereo to the instructor mat so you can play music during class

Free Weights:

You can lift dumbbells or kettlebells. That's pretty much it. These guys look super happy about it.

You only need one dumbbell. The other one is a prop which will be created once your Sim starts lifting.

Gym Board:

Check Scheduled Classes

Sign Up for Class (Note: you can't sign up for classes that have no spots available but you can still show up and try to get a spot if there's a no show)

Cancel Sign Up

Cancel Class

Gym Classes:

Instructors can hold Beginner, Intermediate or Advanced gym classes, the difference in difficulty affects the fat/muscle delta, fatigue level and athletic skill gain. The ability to hold different class levels is skill gated at Levels 5, 6 and 7 respectively.

If you schedule a class, the instructor and any Sims that sign up for the class will be pushed to the lot an hour before the class starts. Sims cannot join a class after it starts but if they leave before the class ends, they still get charged.

The cost per person is based on the class level and the instructor’s athletic skill. If you have NRaas Career and the Instructor is in the Trainer skill-based career, they will also earn extra money and the funds will go towards their career advancement.

If there are no spots available, you can still check what time the class is and get information on the class if you want to show up and see if a spot opens up.

If classes are hosted on a non-park community lot, like a gym, 25% of the class fees will go to the venue (the venue owner will receive this if it’s owned).

You can check and sign up for scheduled classes on the gym board object. Instructors can also cancel classes there.

There are two "rewards" available: Top Trainer and Gym Rat. Top Trainers are Sims that have taught at least 20 classes. After achieving that, their classes are worth more and they also keep a larger percentage of the cost per student. Gym Rats are Sims that have taken at least 10 classes after which they get a discount on any other classes afterwards.

Notes: 

My suggestion is to organize the class room like how I have in my photos with the mats horizontal facing the instructor. I'd also space them out more than I did as some of the exercises involve a lot of jumping/moving around but I have small lots so I have to squeeze in as much as I can! With this plus Twin's spin class and yoga mods, I'm going to need a bigger gym!!

The instructor will face whichever mat is first in the list of assigned mats so I would suggest assigning the front center mat first.

You can have multiple instructors/instructor mats on the same lot but an instructor can only be assigned to one mat.

Sims cannot take a class if they don't have more than $400 in their family funds. You can change this if you like but I don't want my broke inactives spending money on gym classes (we have gym at home!)

If Sims are not autonomously joining classes or using the mat, it’s probably because you have too many advertising objects on your lot that are competing with it. You can up the advertising for the mat but it’s already quite high so you just have to figure out how to balance it. The Join Class interaction does advertise fun and social in addition to the standard Athletic Game Object advertising so I would suggest upping that in order to get more attention from Sims.

The animation of Sims picking up/dropping the free weight is kind of wonky. I may try to fix it later.

There’s a collection file for all the objects but you will find all of them under Entertainment/Sporting Goods. Nothing is more expensive than 150 simoleons.

This is set for YA+ because a) some of the animations will sink for teens and b) they are always trying to do their fucking homework around each other while I'm holding classes and it drove me crazy. You can change the ITUN if you want teens to use it but you've been warned.

Future updates: I'm already thinking about using a similar system to create dance classes. Making an active Dancer career is something I’ve wanted for a while and I have a Sim that would be perfect to test it.

As always, if you run into any issues, let me know!

Download here | Alt: Simblr

What I originally wanted to name this mod 😭😭

[bxtxnx]

♄. ♈︎+♉︎;

Because Saturn rules limitation and restriction, having it in a particular sign makes the body part related to it smaller.

With Saturn in Aries, it's difficult to get fit. Aries is related to fitness, so Saturn here creates problems with it, unless you have other Aries placements to help the situation. If the only Aries placement is Saturn, then good luck getting fit - even if you do several different things, it's difficult and even when you are fit, you will still have some curves, as opposed to being slim and thin. Saturn in Aries also makes it difficult to increase muscle mass, no matter how strong you are getting. Having no other Aries placements also means that an Aries Saturn graces you with a small forehead.

When Saturn is in Taurus, it makes it difficult for the person to gain weight, regardless of its form. Whether it's muscle mass or fat, it's just difficult to gain weight. Even after much effort of gaining muscle mass or fat, once you stop following your regime, even if it's just for a few days, you immediately lose the weight you've worked so hard to gain. Saturn in Taurus can also give you a small, thin or short neck or thin lips, if that's your only Taurus placement. ☽

[littlebearbigchub]

As usual, gym OOTD is: “Hasn’t accepted that he needs to size up.” 🐷 skipping cardio and letting my shirt ride up in front of everyone when I do my lifts.

I’m really being a fat slut recently. I’ve just been crushing my protein goals after a lengthy period of being too depressed to build muscle. I am feeling so BIG and loving the growing strength. I’m just totally embracing my appetite and the jiggles.

Oh course, I’m sure that it’s only a matter of time before I start freaking out again about the new highs on the scale and make another pathetic attempt at losing some of it. I’m not worried though. I know where I’m eventually going to end up and it’s going to make me so happy.

Standing at the precipice of stepping off the cliff of the 150 lb range is as thrilling and euphoric as it is genuinely terrifying. I can see myself and my path to 165 lbs (which would be my ideal next pit stop on my way to my goal of obesity at 180 lbs) but dang, I’m gonna be ruined physically and mentally if I’m not careful. I think that so long as I keep in shape I can mostly convince myself that my weight isn’t /too/ bad but it’s such a tight line to walk to not get fat too fast to stay fit (for me at least) and it gets more and more tempting to be lazy with every extra pound.

I’ve also basically decided that I’m gonna seek medication related to diabetes prophylactically when I reach that point. Like, I can eat as plant based as possible and work out to support my cholesterol and blood pressure but with my family history and signs of insulin insensitivity already appearing at a certain weight I’m gonna need some sort of pancreatic support - to minimize the squeeze from visceral fat if nothing else (besides more subq would be sexyyyyyyy) I’ve made a ridiculous delusional plan that I could access something like that and it could actually really support my gain by preventing damage from my obesity instead of reacting to it and hopefully minimize the chances of being in a situation where I have to lose weight for my health.

“Piggy boy is such a fatass that he needs meds because he just can’t say no to ice cream, doc. That’s why his belly is spilling out of his shirt and he’s up 10 pounds year over year for the past 5 years. You better do something quick before he starts tipping past 200 lbs and the gains accelerate until he can barely waddle back into this office.”

[wriothesleybear]

~warnings: modern!au, mostly fluff with a little bit of smut (i couldn't help myself), mentions of creampies, gn!reader(hopefully i did it right this time), MDNI!

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who's the #1 boxing champion with a high winning streak. He's on the cover of magazines and has a lot of fame and fortune, which he uses to spoil you. Buying you fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, taking you to the most expensive restaurants, and just buying you whatever you want. You tell him that he doesn't have to spend so much money on you, but he just grabs your hand, kissing it while telling you that it makes him happy spoiling you with gifts. How could you deny him happiness.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who works out with you. He either has you sit on his back while he does pushups or has you lay below him where every time he pushes down, he kisses you. Sometimes, it just ends up in a long, passionate make out session. Maybe something a little more *wink wink*. Just seeing you all sweaty and breathing heavily as you work out near him. Seeing you stretch your limbs, especially the one stretch that gives him a good view of your ass, makes it hard for him to control himself.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who saves a front row seat for you to his fights so you are able to watch him better. When he needs the motivation during his fight, he looks out in the crowd searching for you. Once his eyes land on you, he smiles and winks at you, gaining the motivation to fight and wanting to make you proud. It makes him happy seeing you supporting him in the stands, cheering for him, and screaming his name. If you make him a little sign, it'll make his heart skip a beat.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who immediately looks for you after a fight. Once he spots you, he heads straight for you, pulling you into a tight hug. Even though he's all sweaty and musky, you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his neck. He passionately kisses you in front of the crowd. It shows how much you mean to him. Plus, it's his way to thank you for being there for him and supporting him.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who melts when you give him massages to help him relax his sore muscles. Your massages especially help him when he's stressed for an upcoming fight. All worries leave his mind once your soft hands explore his body. He groans when you push on the right spots where he's the most tense.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who enjoys the celebratory sex you two have after he wins a fight. You prefer 'celebrating' at home, but sometimes when he's still full of adrenaline from the fight, he can't help taking you right there in the locker rooms. You could do it in his personal dressing room like usual, but he thinks its much more exciting with the risk of being caught. Your moans echoing in the empty space, the sounds of your ass slapping against his pelvis, getting him closer to the edge. It's not a celebration if it doesn't end in him creampieing you.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who loves the gentle care you put in when patching up his wounds, making sure to carefully patch them up so as not to irritate them. After you finish patching him up, you smother him in kisses, making sure to add extra ones on his boo-boos. Moments like these remind him how lucky he is to have you. He should do something about that. Maybe a ring will do..

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who buys you a big, fat diamond ring. He plans this whole special proposal for you. He takes you out to dinner, feeding you the most delicious foods. Once stuffed, he takes you to a movie, where he rented out the whole theater just for you two. After the movie, he takes you to the small boxing club where you two first met. He thinks it's the perfect place to propose. He leads you into the center of the boxing ring, holding your hands as he gives you a speech about how much you mean to him. Then he gets down on one knee and pulls out a red box, holding the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen. You can't help the tears from flowing as you say yes. Once he slips the ring on your finger, you jump into his arms, tightly hugging him and pulling him into a kiss. You both end the night making passionate love in your shared bed, fingers intertwined as he slowly pumps into you, filling you up with his seed.

[krashlite]

Design concepts for Grian!

basically, completely overhauling how I draw him!

Design notes under the cut!

Animal: Sphinx

He's one of two people that try to hide that he has a motif (the other being Scott, but I'll get to him), so his animal traits are a lot more subtle. We only see more overt traits like his wings and big teeth through his hallucinations.

FACE/HEAD

Wide face! Very rectangular.

Generally, he has more reserved expressions that are based off his eyes.

His face/head shape is meant to resemble that of a lion, with a broad nose, round ears, and a lazy, catlike smile.

The shape of his hair is meant to resemble a bird with tucked wings, though I'm not sure how well I pulled that off!

He has lowlights in his hair that, when pulled into the "wings," makes the light and dark strands crisscross into that waffle pattern.

He doesn't have irises! It's a genetic disorder called aniridia, which affects his sight. During/before EVO he still had ~75% of his irises and wore contacts, but now he's fully reliant on his watcher abilities to see (though bright lights still affect him!).

BODY TYPE

Even mix of soft muscle and body fat. Reads as soft but can absolutely pack a punch!

Most of his bulk is around his abdomen and biceps, with a bit of overhanging fat in both areas (though we don't really see this).

Legs are fairly skinny to give a more birdlike appearance to his shape.

CLOTHES

An adapted version of business casual! Adventure casual? Business adventure?

The leather vest is mostly there for weight. It's there to help ground him when he's experiencing the wing hallucinations. Most of the weight for it lands on his back, where said wings would otherwise sit.

Leather patches on his elbows and the toes of his shoes from wear and tear (though the left one is starting to tear off again...) as well as a messy stitch on the side of his pant leg.

This outfit doesn't actually fit, but he works with it! This is his favorite outfit and he's going to make it work goddamnit!

Doesn't generally button the top button on his undershirt.

ADDITIONAL

He's the only one that sees the wings/eyes/teeth in his hallucinations! He does also see more overt versions of other motifs (so hare ears on Etho, or antlers on BigB, for example). This isn't all he sees, and episodes can induce nausea in the same way looking at a magic eye painting can make you dizzy.

He doesn't show any physical signs of injury or aging, nor does he have the ability to make lasting changes to his appearance (such as tanning, gaining/losing muscle mass, haircuts, tattoos, etc.) with the exception to this rule being, ironically, his eye bags.

Final note is that with the life series, I'm approaching the watchers through a complex trauma lens. In my interpretation, they are otherworldly and incomprehensible entities that can damage the human psyche just through small, direct interactions. Grian, after being changed into one against his will for an extended period of time and then changed back, has a very difficult time separating that experience from his own identity. The watchers themselves ARE NOT a current part of the games, but Grian uses the abilities gained from them in order to run the games. It's his way of both reconnecting with his humanity and reclaiming that trauma.

Once again, the watchers ARE NOT a part of the games in my version. References to them through Grian are either flashbacks or hallucinations.

[miguel-owhora]

on another note,

I think RDR men are decently chunky. Like a general body HC, everyone has some fat on them. Actually, idk if it is a headcanon, could be canon idk. Anyways, general body headcanons abt some of the VDL gang down below.

I think it's canon (?) but within the VDL gang, Arthur, Bill, and Charles are definitely the biggest fellas. Not essentially in weight, though I think they're definitely on the bigger side in that category as well, but in height. Bill and Charles are around the same height, and Bill weighs just a tad more. Arthur's a inch or so shorter than them, but people call him the 'biggest' because of his reputation and of his rank within the gang.

None of the men are particularly muscular, not in the way some people portray them. They're muscular in the way their muscles blend into their fat, making them look like bears of sorts. I do think the trio has a bit more muscle definition because of their manual labor, but they're only bulky, again, like a bear. Strong shoulders, bulky arms straining against their shirts, large hands. And like I said, they have weight on them, in the way I think cats have it. A soft flabby pouch to protect their stomachs, one that softens out and stays even during harsher times, maintaining their soft bellied looks hiding the strong muscles underneath.

On the other hand, I think Kieran is quite the opposite. I think he's tall and lanky, slouched over to make himself unnoticeable, but it's hard to do so when everyone around you is nosy. When he arrives he's pretty skinny and bony, not starving but underweight. He's hesitant in the beginning when he arrives, not particularly trusting whatever spare food they give him, but eats when they force him to. After he becomes a member, however, he starts to gain meat. Bony limbs begin to fill out and turn broad, yet his belly grows soft, a pouch, and so do his thighs, especially the inner parts. Assuming he doesn't die in this fucking version, he begins to look like a proper VDL member: fat in the way a bear is.

On the other side of the spectrum, however, Micah's belly is partly beer and partly from whatever snacks he manages to find (and hoard.) Stretchmarks and scars blend together, hidden underneath darker gold curls. Despite his overgrown belly and thighs that he forces into his pants, Micah's far from insecure, and the other members aren't shy to look a little longer. After all, something something about fat being a sign of fertility; surely that applies to men as well?

[toxicroyjamie]

Where's that one post you had months ago talking abt how healthy s3 Jamie's body was. Sooo true, a character's body filling out/getting fatter as a sign of growth/happiness/self-actualization is so 👌🤌👏🫶

Ugh I can't find it, tumblr's search function is genuinely the worst 😔

But I do remember exactly what I said so I'll say it again here - I was talking about how having ~washboard abs~ like Jamie did in s1-2 is (contrary to popular belief) actually pretty unhealthy, because you have to be dehydrated and undereating for the muscles to pop out like this -

Even thin, muscular men who work out incessantly won't naturally look like this on a day-to-day basis if they're hydrated and actually eating enough, because muscles are supposed to be protected by a thin layer of fat. Men who are going to do shirtless scenes for TV/movies will often stop eating/drinking enough water in preparation so that they'll eliminate that protective layer.

Jason Momoa in Aquaman vs after Aquaman is a great example. He's still super fit and muscular, but when he's not actively doing a movie that requires his skin to be practically transparent, he doesn't have the washboard look.

Jamie looks healthier to me personally in the latter half of season 3, because he doesn't have that shrink-wrapped skin look -

and I like to think it's because Roy made him put aside some of the unhealthy habits he'd formed out of vanity or social pressure (or both imo) in favor of doing what will actually equip him for the strain he puts on his body every day as an athlete.

People always write Roy as having Jamie eat less during their training era (which is totally understandable, because he canonically wouldn't let Jamie eat his dessert at Ola's or get a kebab), but realistically I tend to think he was restricting what Jamie eats a lot more than how much he eats, because soccer players need an insane amount of calories and Jamie probably needed even more if he was doing extra workouts and bulking.

Losing weight is not necessarily a part of becoming a healthier person or better player, and if anything, Jamie might have benefitted from gaining a little weight!!!!

[woobiedoovo]

Same anon as before and yay I'm glad to be one of your first <3333

What do you think of noncon stancest?!? I've been getting into noncon a lot so I just wanna see if other stancesties see my vision aswell!

My lovely Anon, your vision is SEEN. And you are 100% right.

So, first things first, it’s already well established that Stan would do literally ANYTHING for Ford. As long as Ford tries hard enough to convince him, he’s able to make Stan do anything he wants. So I can 100% see some dubcon/noncon happening between the pair. Especially before Weirdmageddon!!

I can just imagine-

After a long day doing of tours and taking care of the younger pair of pine twins, Stan was ready to hit the hay. After a nice, long shower he changed into his wife-beater and favorite worn out pair of boxers. Not even bothering to cover himself with a blanket, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Not to long after, Ford silently slipped into the room, eyes immediately zeroing in on Stan's sleeping form. He had been spending most of his time ignoring Stanley since he's gotten back. It was for the best, Stanford had reasoned with himself. it was either that or Ford was going to end up jumping Stan in the middle of the day. Despite Stan's general grouchiness, he had become quite attractive over the years.

Not that Stanley hadn't always been very handsome, Ford noted to himself silently as he approached the rather small bed for a man Stanley's size. Taking a minute to look for any signs of Stan not being 100% asleep, he finally allowed himself to run his hand through his twins hair.

It was as soft as he remembered, Ford mused as he climbed over Stanley, placing himself between the other mans legs. Running his hands up his thighs, Ford marveled at their plushness. Even with the layer of fat he could feel the corded muscles beneath, flexing and tensing in reaction to Stanford's curious touch.

One of the things he's enjoyed the most in the weeks he's been back, he decided, was the weight Stanley had gained when Ford was away. When they were younger, Stan was always the larger twin in both muscle and fat, and Ford had always found a perverse pleasure in the way Stan's body so stubbornly held onto it's baby fat. Whenever Stan would loudly complain, Ford would simply admire the flush of his rounded cheeks and the way his stomach would fold over his jeans.

He was glad even after all these years, Stan still stayed as soft. Leaning forward, he scrunched Stanley's tank top up under his arm-pits. Taking a hand full of Stanley's pectoral, he fondled the mans breast, almost hypnotized by the pink nub that was hardening under Ford's gentle ministrations. Mouth watering, he took one of the tantalizing peaks into his mouth, sucking softly. From above he could hear Stanley's breath hitch, a moan spilling from his brothers lips. Alternating to the other nipple, Ford used his unoccupied hand to trail down Stan's hairy stomach, lightly cupping the mans growing erection. Ford couldn't help but smile around Stan's nipple when he felt the small dent. So cute.

With a pop, Stanford took a moment to admire his work. Both of Stan's nipples stood stiff, the soft pink now an angry, puffy red. Ford wanted to bare his teeth and bite down, to leave an imprint of teeth around the two buds, but he knew better. Stan wasn't a very deep sleeper and he had to be careful. He would hate for his fun to end so early.

Letting out a groan, he palmed at his own aching erection. Taking a moment to free himself, he then moved his hands to pull Stanley's boxers off, watching intently the way his cock bobbed up in down in a mock greeting. Swiping at the head, Ford felt Stan arch into his touch, precum eagerly beading at the tip. Smirking, Ford gave his brother a few strokes, enjoying the way Stanley squirmed from his attention. Pulling his hand away, he finally moved lower, letting his pointer finger prod at Stan's hole.

Grabbing the small bottle of lube he had stored in his coat in preparation, he poured a generous amount onto his hand, grimacing at the sensation before slowly inserting a finger into Stanley's ass.

Ford took his time, gently stretching Stan’s hole with an almost methodical approach. One finger, lube, a second finger, pause to make sure Stan is still asleep, more lube, then a third. Spreading the fingers snuggly tucked away in Stan’s ass, Ford imagined a day where Stan could take all of Stanford’s fingers. Another day, he decided.

Deeming Stanley appropriately stretched, he grabbed his own weeping cock. Drizzling a small amount onto his dick, he gave himself a few strokes before positioning his head at Stanley’s entrance. Taking a deep breath, he slowly sheathed himself into Stanley’s warmth. It was heaven. Leaning his head against Stan’s stomach, Ford took a few moments to collect himself, to lost in the perfect sensation of Stan to register the confused moan coming from the man below him.

“Ford?”

Stan jolted as his ass clenched around Ford’s cock. “Stanford what the hell-!” Ford slammed his hand against Stan’s mouth, muffling the rest of his angry shouts.

“Shh, Stanley. You wouldn’t want the twins hearing you, would you?” Eyes wide with anger, Stan kicked his legs, trying to push himself away from his brother. Tutting, Stanford gripped Stan’s hips and started to hammer into Stan. Hands clenching the sheets, Stan moaned desperately. “Such a good boy, Stanley. Look at you, you’re taking me so well. I knew you’d be perfect for me, Lee. So perfect.”

“Fuck. You.” Stan grunted, scrunching up his face as he tried to ignore the way his dick throbbed and ass twitched. “Yes, that’s what I’m doing Stanley,” With a particularly harsh thrust, Ford watched as Stan’s eyes widened, pupils blown. “Ah, there it is.” He muttered, angling his hips to continuously hit Stan’s prostate.

Reaching up a hand, he started to pinch Stanley’s nipples, pulling on them with every other thrust. “Fuck, Ford. You asshole- Fucking stop!” Despite Stan’s objections, his body was practically begging for more. From his weeping cock to the way his hole clenched around Ford’s dick, Stanford could tell Stan was enjoying himself. Even his protests seemed to die down the longer Ford fucked into him.

“God, Ford. Please, I’m going to-,” Stanford smashed hips lips against Stan’s forcing his tongue in his mouth. Pulling away, Ford groaned into Stan’s ear.

“Do it Stanley, Cum from my cock. Do it.” Almost on command, Stan arched into Stanford’s body, cuming. His hands desperately grasped for purchase along Ford’s back. Hissing at the stinging pain from Stan’s blunt nails, he came, forcing his cock deep into Stan’s warmth.

For the next few minutes, the twins simply breathed. Taking in each other’s disheveled appearance, both of them flopped onto the bed, exhausted. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, Ford wrapped his arms around Stan, pressing his head into his turtleneck. Laying his head on Stan’s, he started to drift, satisfied.

“Your cocks still in my ass.”

[nobunsonpesach]

Heyo! Survival Mode Anon here.

Fun fact; the human body /keeps/ the muscles it has, but underneath the fat it gains.

So even tho post-Endorë Finwë is soft and huggable like an elven squishmellow, he probably has, if not all, then at least most of the strength he had in Endorë. That plus all the energy his body now has in the steady food (nourishment) intake, plus the restful sleep, plus the peaceful environment.

Well, considering all that, Finwë is probably physically stronger than he was in Endorë (to the confused terror of his children and fascinated awe of his grandchildren, lmao)

This is me infodumping my Chubby Finwë Headcanons, but also! Playing devil’s advocate for a sketch of Finwë holding an absurd amount of elflings effortlessly 7:D

Please and thank u for the art! (double thanks for the past art I requested, too. Weight Gain as a sign of a Better Environment is my joy).

I must let you know that this was an ABSOLUTE DELIGHT to draw and also headcanon accepted and also I love you and kiss you gently on the forehead for your input because it is wholesome and valid 💖✨😭❤️‍🩹🌌

[ludinusdaleth]

hi y'all, it's officially been 1 year since i started T!

it's been a wild, wild year and, tumblr willing, im gonna share some progress photos.

here's a pic i took right after my first injection vs now. i think the most noticeable yet subtle sign of my transition might be just getting broader & thicker in every aspect and you can tell that down to my face shape & nose & neck.

sideburns, pre t vs now. this in particular makes me so, so happy. and im getting curly beard hairs which means.... i may have a curly beard?? well my mom wins the hair lottery in one way i guess, lol

when i first started noticing chin hairs (i think 2 or 3 months into t?) vs now - kind of have billy goat scruff going on as my body needs to create a neckbeard before a full beard, i guess, but im honestly happy about it. all ive ever wanted was facial hair. and i hope it grows into a massive bushy affair one day. i also definitely have a double chin now and it's honestly very cute & handsome to me.

my happy trail area (and i guess my belly hang, lol), pre t vs now

and some more general body pics (warning, slight but censored ns/fw), pre t vs me now. these..... stun me. not only does the first pic show obvious masculinization of the face but more than that - im bearing up! gaining about 50 to 60 lbs? one of the best things that ever happened to me, and i have t to thank. going from being malnourished for a multitude of reasons to the point it hurt to breathe, vs now being a "big chonker" to my friends. going from being terrified of any sign of being feminine in any way, to practically worshipping my moobs (also hella furry now - but im not posting that here) & learning to accept my hips. feeling like i am not a ghost who cant be touched but a person, maybe a bear today or one day, literally built with fat & muscle to aid & comfort those i care for.

thanks to everyone who has treated me kindly & been accepting over my progress - especially in wishing with all my heart to be a bear. a few years ago i accepted transition as something impossible in texas, and resigned myself to misery with jeers & looks my way, & death threats & isolation. and now.... it feels so opposite. i grin at conservatives looking at me in anger because i know they can be as mad as they want but im still me, and i have a support system, people who treat me so kindly it's made me realize how much goodness really is possible. i used to feel more wraith than alive. now i feel like a wolf with his pack, a fae in his domain. life is a clusterfuck but something ive learned the past while is you must seek the good in it. you must.

and i did.

[makingspiritualityreal]

What placements and/or aspects indicate obesity and/or gaining weight easily? And weight fluctuations?

I want to know this because this is something I have struggled with and I want to know what indicates these issues in a natal chart.

Weak malefics in the presence of out of check benefics.

Saturn and Mars are the first to look at. Weak Mars is not gonna burn like it should, it’s not gonna fuel your body into action appropriately. Lack of planets in Mars signs of Aries and Scorpio also can show that. A very strong Mars is someone who can eat copiously and still burn it all, probably because they build muscle. To an extent this applies also to the Sun, as it gives a naturally strong constitution. A weaker Sun just gives you a weak body that decays easily.

Saturn represents health, self control and boundaries. A weak Saturn has no self discipline and so it “lets itself go”. It doesn’t have the right “health hygiene” so it can be prone to obesity.

Venus also represents refinement and endurance, in pair with Saturn. So a weak Venus can not know what is best for it and be unaware of what is healthy and good quality for oneself. So it results in a person that can have a poor diet. After all, healthy ingredients exist for a healthy body.

A very abundant Jupiter will have a tendency to store fat. So it’s a cherry on top of the whole situation.

Remember, we’re talking about health and obesity. Body proportions, smaller or bigger body, are a whole other matter and a combination of many chart factors. Being naturally bigger or smaller is not a disease. We’re talking about extreme cases.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Hello!

If you’re still open, how about a weight gain starting Seteth? Maybe him slowly starting to stress eat but tries to ignore the signs he’s getting fat (buttons or his belt popping off, clothes tearing, belly rumbling loudly from hunger constantly) until he finally admits it when he gets stuck or he breaks his chair or something? Thanks!

I see Seteth I bark and go crazy. Cause like I know I say I kinda struggle/dislike weight gain ignorance at larger sizes but I went a little crazy with this ajsbsnjsbnsj.

Not used to this but I hope you like it cause gave me many thoughts!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Garreg Mach Monastery is always a bustling area in Fodlan. With so many moving parts needed to keep such a place continuously running without much issue, Seteth is one of the most important people taking care of all the logistics and other minute details. Even more is required of him with Fodlan finally reaching a peace that is hopefully kept for quite some time. From so much required of him, the archbishop’s advisor has recently turned to a mixture of poor eating habits so as to sufficiently complete all the work he imposes on himself, Seteth skipping meals only to binge on even more than were he to eat properly along with stress eating for even the most minor of things now.

Seteth’s quill immediately stops its motion as he hears the sudden, small clack of something hitting his desk while he diligently works in his office. “How odd,” His brows are furrowed. His eyes glance down at himself. Despite the small beginner belly that he sees, Seteth pays it zero attention. His little belly that has now passed being just a small insignificant amount of flab stretches his outfit since he has gained around 30 pounds from so much snacking and eating. All of Seteth has filled out slightly from the extra weight that he now carries on his once fit frame. He still holds all of the musculature he’s gained from countless years of fighting and training; his broad pecs have the slightest bit of curve to them from the bit of flab they now have, his chest meatier and even a bit larger now. His biceps have most of their definition hidden by his loose sleeves, the bit of adipose on his arms unable to completely hide all his muscles. And Seteth’s wide, powerful thighs that come from being so adept at wyvern riding have some extra width to them as well. Though like his arms, the limbs are covered up by Seteth’s clothing, his overly long coat hiding the two thick thighs and his shapely bubble butt that also has a bit more bounce and heft to it now. But Seteth’s top is far from as loose as the rest of his attire. And where the line of buttons should be, one of the pristine white buttons is completely missing. Right where his stomach bulges out the very most. 

“Perhaps I should update my wardrobe,” Seteth remarks to no one but himself. The ever diligent worker sees no fault of his own, so preoccupied in getting things accomplished that the small inkling of an issue regarding his weight immediately becomes buried under a mountain of work. Though Seteth’s brain does a good job on shifting blame onto other things, furrowed brows still glaring at his minor wardrobe malfunction. “Honestly, I should have expected this to happen. I’ve had these for years. I suppose I’ll submit an order to the tailor,”

His clothes are indeed more than half a decade old at this point; Seteth mollifies himself by thinking of his wardrobe malfunction as nothing more than too worn out clothes and not his belly straining his tight clothes. Seteth thinks no more about the issue. Even as he reaches into his snack drawer—a new habit of his he also thinks nothing about—and takes a bite into the now unwrapped sugary chocolate chip cookies despite having just finished his prior meal, the two plates stacked to the side, as he continues to whittle away at all the work that awaits him. 

Seteth learns nothing of his minor accident. Mind too focused on work, the hard-working individual thinks of only accomplishing the too high bars he sets on himself. And if that includes less time leaving his office, Seteth doesn’t mind or think too much of his increased sedentary lifestyle. He sits for most of the day. His only exercise includes stretching—albeit a rather rigorous 15 minute session—after waking up and before going to sleep. But the minor, far from challenging stretches do nothing to help combat his rising weight from how much he eats. And Seteth gladly eats his fill. Food meant to serve as energy to fuel one’s body, he pays zero attention to the increasing amount of plates that he allows himself to indulge on, or the way he always has more and more piles of plates in his office as the weeks go by, or the way his clothes begin to struggle more often as his weight simmply begins to creep higher and higher. 

“Blast this forsaken belt,” Seteth’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth as he mutters to himself. Near ready to tear the accessory himself, he manages to keep himself somewhat calm. 

And he does so by still refusing to admit to himself about his current weight. A weight that is just shy of four hundred pounds now. Not that Seteth knows, the man never using a scale for so long. Especially when he could never possibly need it, not when he’s too busy with other tasks and when he thinks of himself being just as spry and thin before his weight gain. But all his denying can’t change the amount of weight that hugs his figure. Especially not his stomach. The large ball of fat that makes up Seteth’s gut—his abdomen far too flabby to be considered just a stomach now—sags down. Even as he stands up, Seteth’s gut comes close to reaching his crotch. The lowest bits of belly fat reach far enough to just barely begin and sag at the very top of his new fat pad. Seteth’s fat pad also has to worry about his round thighs, the two meaty legs much more filled out now with the heaping addition of more fat from all his eating. And his thighs fill out his pants incredibly well, the once again newly made clothing already beginning to grow taut once more. They manage to stay hidden by his coat still, only the fattest parts of his thighs ever so slightly pressing up against the fabric to show off the large goods Seteth has hidden. His large posterior is shown off more; the two flabby buttocks are outlined by his coat, the fabric draping over his shapely rear. Seteth’s arms also struggle against sleeves that are nowhere near as loose or poofy as before with new outfits needed to withstand his growing girth. His biceps are covered up by a generous layer of layer now, the sagging rivulets of flab that make up his arm pressed tightly against the fabric of his clothes. And Seteth’s face is rounded out as well to top off his current weight. His portly face has a double chin now. His cheeks are also puffed out from his weight, that and the deep breaths he takes the few moments he does anything past moderately strenuous. But the largest aspect of Seteth remains his doughy gut and bountiful chest. His large upper half is constrained by the usually tight clothing that is meant to show off his musculature. Unfortunately, it only accentuates the largeness of his breasts, the two meaty moobs sitting comfortably atop his large gut as they strain his clothes. And the buttons. The buttons hold on for dear life even with the use of extra stretchy fabric for his outfit. The white fabric of his undershirt is exposed and visible with how much the rich, navy  blue of his top is pulled to accommodate its wearer’s size. Seteth’s gut does much worse. His clothes are already tight as they are but his belt does nothing but exacerbate the issue. The flabby mass of fat is tightly squished by the straining belt. His gut begins to lurch over the strip of fabric by how tight it is, the accessory already ill suited for Seteth quite some time ago—not that he can realize that with the obese man still willfully ignoring his size.

Seteth fights with his belt. Flabby hands reach for it and try their best to tug at it. “I knew I should have discarded this when I accidentally washed it,” Complaining to himself, Seteth fidgets with the clasp. But try as he might, he lacks the dexterity to reach the creaking piece of metal from the way his bulging stomach gets in the way. Seteth’s words do ring true, having completely forgotten to remove his belt before washing his clothes, but the accident has nothing to do with his issue. 

And after some more fidgeting, Seteth gives up. Fanning himself with his flabby arms that wobble as he does so, and only leaves him feeling a bit more winded, he goes to take a seat on his chair. 

The buckle on his belt comes completely undone. The clasp chipping and releasing from his gut pooling as he sits. Seteth stares at the sight with puffed out cheeks, his face tinged with red from exhaustion and irritation. “Hmmph, I should have known the metal was of subpar quality,” With nothing more than a dismissive comment to his resolved situation, Seteth continues with his small break, the free time accompanied by more snacks before diving right back into his sedentary work at his desk. 

Even with an entire belt destroyed by his enormity, Seteth thinks nothing of the event. Or the increasing amount of hushed conversations and whispers whenever he’s around—the few times he leaves his office or his room. The only takeaway he gets from the experience is to stop wearing a belt, recently dug up mineraly apparently too cheap nowadays after his second experience of breaking one. And for all his complaints about his clothes, the increasingly large Seteth can’t forego those so he makes do by changing his attire as the days pass. Coincidentally, his clothes get changed as his weight continues to climb higher and higher. The few trips Seteth makes to the mess hall grow more infrequent. He doesn’t need to make the short little walk—now a trek to him—when he has all his meals delivered now. But no one complains to him with Garreg Mach continuing to run even more smoothly than before despite the extra amount of work around. Or bring up his weight directly to his face, everyone fearful of a dedicated, stern lecture from the morbidly obese advisor. 

Like always, Seteth is in his office. Despite the clutter, the busy, occupied room is in a completely mess free state with everything organized. His stacks of papers are separated into neat tall piles regarding what needs to be done to them, some finished and ready to be approved by others, some just having arrived to him,some needing his approval and so on. And Seteth’s second desk has all his plates stacked neatly to be taken care of later—the extra furniture a recent addition to make it easier for him to eat. 

Seteth is currently taking a break however. 

Instead of sitting at his desk, the now five hundred pound man is currently standing. He does his usually stretching routine, Seteth adding a third one after feeling like he needed it from being so tired throughout the day, from working too much obviously and not from the extra weight and cushioning he has on his rotund, fat body. Deciding to make things much easier on himself—and because the tailors were struggling to supply enough material for his growing body, not that they gave such a reason to Seteth’s face—he now only wears a simple white pair of pants and a plain navy blue shirt. The large set of clothes are strained against his prodigious girth. 

Seteth's shirt is tucked in, the habit hard to get rid of even when he weighs more than an entire quarter ton now. His sagging stomach is given support by his shirt, the large, jutting gut sagging only halfway down to his crotch instead of past it like usual. The round, sagging stomach jiggles with every sort of stretch Seteth does, the meaty belly slapping against the upper portions of his thighs. His gut curves at the very bottom from his shirt, the soft meaty roll of belly fat caressed by his shirt. Seteth's chest is as large as his head now. The two flabby breasts are stacked with fat now from all his indulgent eating habits. They splay down his gut now from their own girth. His widened areolas press against his shirt, his breasts outlined against the fabric from how much they jut, the soft curve of flab underneath his breasts also apparent with more flab piled onto the outer sides of his breasts. Seteth's tits get in the way of his stretching. Breast fat squishes against his arm flab and all other parts of his body as he maneuvers his body around. Seteth's arms lack a large chunk of mobility that they once had; the two bulky arms wobble and tremble with each pose and stretch he holds for a portion of a minute. His arms also often squish against his face, the onset of a third chin giving Seteth a much, much rounder appearance. His neatly trimmed beard makes his already fat face look even wider. Seteth's pants fare worse than his shirt. The waistband of his pants dig into all of Seteth's flab. His jutting hips struggle to stay contained within the tight pants; getting a sausage for a finger into his waistbands is a difficult task for him with how tight they are. Seteth's ass just barely manages to stay contained inside the clothes, the rounded rear that is fat and round enough to make a nice seat for someone else just barely escapes past his pants, a large grabbable sliver of lard visible as it oozes past the waistband. The rest of his pants, while not quite as taut against his thighs as they are against his huge rear, also struggle from his weight. The two portly thighs are outlined by his pants, the jutting upper rivulets of flab on his thighs pressing against the fabric. The material is also faded, so much rubbing and friction from his inner thighs chafing against each other whenever he takes the minimal exercise that is walking around throughout the day. Seteth's knees and calves lack the mobility that they once held, the joints saddled with a cylindrical layer of flab that oozes down from his flabby legs. 

But despite his quarter ton weight—Seteth still mentally refusing to think anything regarding his size—he works harder than ever to keep up with his stretching regimen. And with so much effort and energy needed to sustain himself, and so little time in his busy schedule, he takes the opportunity to stuff himself in between stretches. 

He chews on the last bits of his sandwich as he stretches his arms above his head. The small bit of burn he feels is assuaged by the delicious meat cuts and the fresh, cold vegetables as he devours the last half. Seteth soon reaches for another treat after he finishes his stretch. He grabs a bit of chocolate, the deliciously wrapped truffle his break dessert as he unwinds down from his stretching.

Unfortunately, he drops the spherical piece of chocolate, the wrapper crunching as it rolls along the floor. "Of all the…" Seteth grumbles to himself but nonetheless, he waddles on over to pick it up. Ass sloshing behind him as his thighs chafe against one another and slap against his meaty gut, Seteth only smiles as he reaches the chocolate, ignoring the way he feels winded despite only just stretching. But, with his mind—and his massive gut—set on satisfying his craving for chocolate, the obese advisor bends down to reach it.

His pants immediately tear right down the center. Seteth's tongue sticking out in concentration, he turns a furious shade of red. He shoots right back up, as fast as he can and with chocolate in hand, and glares the best that he can as he tries his best to look down and back at his torn pants. But even with his largest effort, he mostly gets an eyeful of his own lard.

"I swear, those tailors need a stern talking to," With a small huff, Seteth waddles back to his desk. He gives his work area much more birth this time, bumping into the wood by accident with his still adamant refusal about his weight. Seteth sits down and practically crams the chocolate in his mouth, flabby palm pressed against his maw as he chews and savors it. "I suppose I must submit another order at this rate," Seteth takes a few moments out of his already crammed schedule to request another exact same pair of clothes. He also continues to tear through his large bowl of truffles as he does that before continuing on with his work and snacking.

As the seasons change, so too does the fortune of Garreg Mach Monastery. The bustling place soon begins to die down and return to its normal, albeit still hectic, activity. And along with less liveliness comes less work. Especially from Seteth's diligence, not a single project or plan possibly going late with him overseeing and overworking himself—and overworking his always churning gut. Seteth still remains his hardworking self even with the extra amount of free time. He uses his free time to relax now, food often by his side regardless of whether he's working or not. Seteth does finally begin to leave his office more often now though. He doesn't take much advantage of it however, long walks tiring for his now even larger body. He continues to spend a large majority of his time in his office for the most part, spending his extra time reading and writing alongside generously sized dishes. 

Seteth sits at his desk. The upsize furniture and even widened doorway are all things that Seteth pays absolutely no attention to, all of it quickly replaced as Garreg Mach underwent rapid renovations the past couple months and by the decisions of everyone but Seteth who remains oblivious to the changes. His larger, far more sturdy chair that's akin to a personal bench manages to withstand all of his six hundred pound enormity. All of Seteth's girth spreads out around him, his shape resembling more a rotund sphere than anything else. Though Seteth's even larger size is far from surprising to anyone else, an extra hundred pounds a lot to take in regardless, but with Seteth already weighing so much, the large chunk of weight feels far less on his already obese body. The extra heft he carries is less important to all of Garreg Mach's staff compared to the loud mess of noise that is his gut. With so much gorging, Seteth's belly either grumbles from hunger or churns from being stuffed, the pile of lard often doing both simultaneously.

His brand new clothes fit him snug but comfortably. Currently not working, he allows himself to be a bit more comfortable with his shirt being untucked. His large gut oozes out in front of him. The small table for a belly spreads out in front of him, bits of his flab even encroaching and spreading onto his desk. His thighs spread out against the bench, and his ass comes close to sagging off the backside of his chair. But despite weighing more than thrice another man's weight, Seteth simply enjoys his reading.

Well, he tries his best to. His book resting on his large breasts that fully surpass his head in terms of size, and his arms holding said book by resting it on top of his enormous gut and gis love handles, the movement in his grip from how much his enormous gut grumbles does nothing to bother him. No, instead  Seteth's eyes continue to drift to the unsigned, ridiculously unnecessary paperwork on his desk. Seteth reads on, eyes darting from edge to edge as he reads quickly. The text escapes him. The meaning is secondary. He shuts the book closed the instant he reaches the end of his current chapter.

"What nonsense. Who could believe such ghost stories?" He slams his book down. Be Seteth grabs the piece of parchment and brings it to his face, his stomach still churning as it digests his miniature feast for one. "I mean, really?" Seteth scoffs. He reads the paper for the fourth time and is met once again with the article's absurd claims about a cacophony of noise coming from Seteth's room all day, the audible grumbling from his gut able to be heard in the hallway even with Seteth's door closed. The sounds are nothing more than whitenoise to Seteth, even the long gurgles and bubbling rumbles from his stomach are insignificant to Seteth's still ignorant self.

"Absurd," Seteth tosses the paper into the trash. Absolved from dealing with the work, he instead deals with his post lunch, lunch. His stomachs rumbling dies down as he tears into his feast with no thought or consideration to his size.

Seteth chooses to be painfully oblivious to his weight. Any signs that he might get an inkling of an idea about his weight are quickly squashed by the absurdity of letting his well cared for body go. He squashes the same ideas perpetuated by faculty's questions or concerns from hushed remarks about his weight, Seteth simply believing them to be jealous. All of Garreg Mach Monastery is as tranquil as it has been long ago. Seteth spends the vast majority of his large quantities of free time eating.

Seteth does exactly that. On his break—the morbidly obese man needing breaks often to keep himself satisfied—he ignores the loud, ominous creaking that harshly sounds out from his personal bench. His ridiculously oversized figure fills out the entirety of his chair. His flab encompasses and spills off of it. The more than eight hundred pounds dragon weighs even more than anyone in Garreg Mach could ever expect. Seteth's clothes are a complete mockery of his former attire, the tailors refusing to take anymore orders from the excessive amount of fabric needed and Seteth’s still insistent and persistent refusal of any of it being his fault. Though the far past morbidly obese advisor has slightly begun to suspect something. The pair of shorts that were already too small more than half a hundred pounds ago offer the bare minimum of coverage. Most of Seteth's fat ass spills out the thinned out, taut strip of fabric that digs into Seteth's rear. His ponderously sized ass that is large enough to require even a third normally sized seat to withstand all his girth is pinched by the blanket of fabric that are his shorts. His rear spills off the back of his now bent bench. It also touches both sides of the seating as well. Seteth’s door crushing hips spill off the sides of the bench. The bit of fabric that manages to cover up his legs are practically hidden by all his enormity, the parts of fabric that cover his inner thighs completely smothered by the two thighs that resemble a bulging barrel more than a proper thigh at his weight. Seteth’s thighs are an amalgamation of rolls of lard, each piece of his flabby, swollen leg sagging down onto the lower portions of itself. Even Seteth’s feet are partially swallowed from his wanton gluttony, draconic strength from a Nabatean only able to go so far with the physical limitation of being almost too fat to properly move. Seteth’s arms paint the exact same picture. His once svelte yet built limbs are swaddled in lard, the hedonistic glutton allowing himself to gain so much weight to where his arms are nothing more than a sluggish stack of thick pancakes. Moving his arms is as much of a chore as the rest of his corpulence. Seteth’s forearms are partially sunken from his immense bicep fat that comes ever so close to rivaling an entire person’s waistline and even surpassing a large majority of them. His insignificant navy shirt clings to every fold and crevice on his big body. The thin material of the sleeves are torn, tears running halfway up the massive opening needed to allow room for his flabby shoulders and massive arms. Seteth’s shirt doesn’t even make it past his plush pillow sized breasts. His large chest sags and splays down the tremendous size that is his gut, each over swollen tit large enough to rest on his abundantly sized love handles. Seteth’s stomach resembles a mattress at his more than a third of a ton weight. Seteth’s vast gut, the elephantine sized gut that it now is, rests on the floor. The mound of lard completely blankets the front of his bench, the furniture impossible to make out from the front with how fat Seteth is. The pile of blubber that is his gut is comprised of an absurd amount of rolls, the blanketing mass of flab slightly broken up by his cavernous navel and the dusting of body hair that makes up his happy trail. Seteth’s blubbery face compliments the rest of his ponderous enormity; the sagging porcine jowls that are his cheeks bulge outward from his plump size. Seteth’s usually pristine face is marred by the streaks of food that rest on his lips as he eats.

Seteth reaches towards the very last plate of food. He has to lean forward to reach it, his gut crammed against his desk creating a tiny river of fat that blocks him. The bench groans underneath him, bits of wood slowly but surely beginning to splinter from even the slightest movement Seteth makes. And the last bite of food seems to be the very last straw for the bench, Seteth finding his fat ass right on the floor as he shoves the entire last half of the buttery baked potato straight into his hungry mouth.

“Whaaa?” Still chewing, Seteth glances at his surroundings with half glazed eyes. His dinner sitting nicely in his churning gut, the comfortable, full sensation takes up most of his energy; the other portion of his brain slowly trickles in the thought of perhaps having gotten too fat. And to his benefit, Seteth does gaze down upon himself, his vision immediately stopped by the tire of fat from his chins and neck smushing against each other. Getting up also proves to be a daunting task. Seteth has to build momentum just to stand up. Lard sloshes and slaps against itself, his massive sagging arm fat squishing against his breasts as those wobble and slosh against his stomach in turn. Seteth uses his desk, the invaluable furniture used as an anchor to help lift up his anchor sized girth. A complete mess of wheezes, Seteth rests as much as he can on his desk to catch his breath.

“Perhaps,” Seteth grumbles to himself. Like a switch, the nearly immobile man seems to come to terms with his gluttony. But only a bit. “Perhaps I ought to work off this bit of pudge starting tomorrow,” His face is still beat red from standing up alone. But seteth wastes no time into reaching into his second desk, all the drawers reserved for snacks now, and begins tearing into the delectable treats available to him after working up an appetite. The obese advisor is nothing more than a mess of moans as he wantonly gluts out, continuing his hedonistic gluttony like every other day.