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Guest Acesofspades

Who needs winter clothes when they can have you with that growing belly, think of when you double in size of how big that belly will be, not only will you be able to heat the person inside you in your fat folds but you will also be heating yourself, who needs to pay heating bills with you and you big fat belly after you fall asleep in the morning you’ll be fed and like you love it you will continue to grow 

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These hot days must be tough on you. I walked past you the other day when you were stretched out in your bikini, at least I assume it was a bikini - kind of hard to tell since your belly was sitting on your thighs - and I could swear that I heard and smelled bacon frying. Did it embarrass you when that little kid asked his mom if you were a bouncy castle?  That night I passed you again, when you were walking along the board walk. Maybe it was my imagination, but it looked like the tide was being affected by how big and round you have gotten.

Hope you enjoy. I am better at appreciating roundness than making fun of it.

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This all started off as something fun to do...but now look at you. You are huge. You’ve lost complete control and the worst part is you like it. You are in uncharted territories now. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize how fat you are. Look at those rolls. You can’t deny how quickly you get out of breath now. The weight has gone everywhere too. Nothing is safe and still you keep eating. Nothing is out of reach for you now. Being skinny is not just a distant memory and we are your cheerleaders...no we are your masters...prodding you to eat more. You feel shame, yet you continue...when will it stop? That’s for us to know and for you to find out. Until them get back on your hands and knees and keep eating piggy

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Guest bigirlslover

At first you thought "One more cupcake wouldn't hurt", then you found the usual hamburger too small, desserts couldn't satisfy you. Cupcakes? Now you want cakes! It's not like it will hurt your body, your slim body. Yeah, clothes can get a bit snug, but now your ass seems in charge of pants. Wait... Is that a belly peeking out of your shirt! That shirt must've must've shrunk, and the previous one too.

As you open your second pizza box, you can't seem to shake that comment away "Now every time I see her, she's fatter". What does your cousin know anyway, she's just jealous of your curves, she's always been. You now look at the empty pizza box, "well they're medium, it's not like I got the big ones". Is it also bad you're still hungry? That ice cream you bought on your way home seems tempting, one scoop shouldn't hurt, you'll eventually burn it off at the gym anyway. Netlflix asks if you're still there, but you're so hooked, you forget that appointment you had. The cellphone rings, waking up you realize how late you are. Around you are still the pizza boxes, and the empty ice cream container. All those carbs must've gotten you sleepy. Your boss is on the line, "Don't tell me you're late again!" you hear him say. You quickly get up and try to put on the nearest pants. You can't get them up! As you try again and again you're starting to question yourself, "do I even remember the last time I entered the gym? Is the membership even active,? Should I even care? Why is this turning me on so much?" As you enter your car, looking for the Twinkie you put earlier in your purse, you finally reach a conclusion "I'll just get bigger clothes".

 

También sé español, si quieres que lo traduzca.

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Poor little piggy, outgrew another pair of pants. How much of your clothes can you say fit you? And I don't mean what normal people count as "fit," how many pairs of pants can you pull over your plump rump? How many shirts can actually go over and cover that entire gut? I'm guessing not much. Keep this up and the only thing you'll fit is the blue ribbon! 

I just hope you didn't tire yourself out, get too out of breath, hopping and jiggling around in vain trying to pull those pants up -- don't want to waste those precious calories, do we? 

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I keep track of a few different piggies, but I’m not sure that word applies to you anymore. You have HOG written all over you! A very very greedy hog... Fat is practically spilling out all over what used to be a fit body. Spilling out in every sense of the word except that it's not going anywhere, your layers of pure flab I mean. Can't control your eating sweety? More like eating everything in sight! You're bigger now than any girl I've ever imagined being with and I don't know what to do except keep my eyes on your ever expanding tits, ass and gigantic HOG GUT

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Guest bigassman

Piggy couldn’t control herself and let her belly speak in her place , each bite of food became soft doughy fat now permanently jiggling around in your figure 

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I can't believe what you've done to your body and how huge you've let yourself become! Your hip bones and your ribs are memories, completely covered. You are complete softness. Your belly is a massive swath of fat that droops between your thighs and probably bounces with every step. I bet it feels heavy on your legs as you lift them to walk up stairs, panting and huffing. I imagine you're so fat your thighs won't cross. They probably touch to your knees and are covered with thick, dimpled cellulite. I'm surprised your thunder thighs don't rub holes into your pants and chafe red against each other with each step. Can you even pull your jeans up over your ass? Does your underwear ride up and become thongs, digging deep into your flesh? You even have thick, soft, back fat rolls. Your fat tits look like they overflow every bra, forcing the outlines of your nipples to show under every shirt. Even your arms are so thickening with fat. Soon they'll be hard to cross, that they don't lie flat against your body anymore and are pushed out by the pounds of fat that cling to your sides. You couldn't stop yourself from becoming this big, fatty. You're no longer in control. Time to submit to being the fat girl you've turned into. oink oink, piggy. 

 
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But... Laura!!! You used to look like a cheerleader!! A tall, slim hot girl with golden skin  and the face of Jessica Alba. A dream come true... Look at you now!! You are almost twice the size the girl you used to be. I'm sure everything started just like a game, right? Your boyfriend told you that he liked "more meat on the bones" that "you could really use some more curves" and you thought "ok, let's give it a shot, a few more pounds couldn't hurt... and they my go to my tits and my butt"... and so you did. The weeks passed and you started to let yourself go. It felt like paradise being able to eat whatever you want without worring about counting calories. The pounds started coming and your boyfriend loved it. He couldn't keep his hands off you.. "wait, I wan't to finish my hamburger, then you can fuck me... or even better, you can feed me while fucking me". You LOVE how turned on your boyfriend is by your new body. But don't fool yourself, you are liking it too, right? "This doesn't feel so bad after all. I might gain another 10 lbs...". You like it too much. You can't stop playing with your belly and your tits. You started doing this for him... but now? You hear those siren calls?? Food is calling you. You are addicted to it and the sensation of being full and satisfied. You are worried and ask your boyfriend if it is okay if you gain a bit more... "maybe 20 lbs more?", that you really like being a fatty... he answers bringing you a big container of mass gainer. He wants you bigger, fatter, lazier, thicker, porkier... and thats a relief... because you don't think you can stop now.

Weeks pass, and you become a bbw. You pass the 100 kg barrier. You outgrown all your wardrove... but all those wake up calls don't make your stop. Instead of going to the gym and lose weight you became a weight gain model. You are making money of your enormous fat body. You used to be a shy girl, even when your boyfriend posted your first pictures on curvage you asked him to cover your face... and now you want more and more attention, you now adore perform public stuffings and imagine people talking behind your back about how disgusting that fat girl is; you like to take a walk with half of your belly exposed and turn heads of the people by slapping your big belly in front of them... that humilliation really keeps you going... you love when people talk about you and see your horny face in every new video. You like to be a celebrity, you love how famous you are becoming in the world of feederism, a fat shameless hog who all those anonymous people masturbate with. And your boyfriend, of course, it's driving him crazy your gain, he is turned on all day like a teenager... but don't lie to yourself, Laura, you are not getting fatter for him anymore. You are doing this for yourself, because you are now loving being such a shameless PIG.

You have embrace your inner pig, you are addicted to this. Your daily routine is nothing but sleep-eat-masturbate-eat-being fucked and repeate. You even ask your boyfriend to cum in your mouth to add those calories and make yourself fatter You can't get enough of your body now. You look at your old pictures and laugh at that skinny girl that didn't know how to enjoy life at its fullest... and you look at the pictures of other models, fatter than you, and you think  "mmm... I will be that fat soon" while taking a huge gulp gaining shake and let out a huge burp and then you finger yourself thinking about your next goal...260...280...300...*you hesitate*...4...40....400 lbs. Because, "Laura the fatty"... no... "Laura the pig" all she thinks about is getting fatter.


 

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From gym bunny to gluttonous fat pig 😍 Your once toned stomach has been replaced by soft, voluptuous rolls which spill over your pants. Those washboard abs are a distant memory... Your sculptured jawline is no more as you’ve sprouted an extra three chins and your arms are turning into tree trunks! You can no longer run or even walk, but waddle around helplessly... and you love it. All control has been lost as the pounds pile on. You’re now addicted to food and destined to get fatter.

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Guest Bronkitis

This little piggy went to the market, the little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef and this little piggy and this little piggy couldn't stop eating until she explodes.

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I didn't see anything that said only one submission is permitted. With professionals wading in, I figured to try to up my game with the following. This is more short story than direct insult, but it does include humiliation, which you said is the goal:

Spring had sprung, and so did the button on Laura's jeans - her "fat" jeans. This happened right in front of her boyfriend, whose jaw literally dropped. These were the ones that she could wear after subjecting herself to a bout of gluttony, when her boyfriend would feed her until she could no longer move without discomfort and even breathing took effort. These were the pants that she bought so much bigger than they needed to be that they were fail safe for her to be able to wear no matter how much she had eaten the night before. And now her efforts to get them on had required laying down on her bed to get them buttoned. And then trying to sit up caused that button to give up the task. This left Laura with nothing else that could fit, with the exception of a pair of sweat pants that were now so tight that they look painted on and even those dug in to her blubber balloon of a belly, creating two globular balls; a kind of upper belly and then her lower belly. Her boyfriend asked if she needed help, but he was late for work, and she said she could handle it.

It was that lower belly that was causing her the most difficulty lately. While it was true that this eating escapade had been her boyfriend's idea, she had exceeded both his expectations and his desires. When she had said yes to indulging to feed his fetish, he had hoped for her to gain maybe 50 pounds; enough to go from slim to officially overweight and just under obesity. But she had surprised him. Unleashed from her years of careful eating and exercise to maintain her slim figure at 125 pounds, Laura's weight exploded. At her last weigh in, she had seen numbers that surprised even her: 231 pounds. She had now exceeded the secret goal she had set for herself, which was to gain 100 pounds. She had sailed right past that goal, making it seem almost inconsequential. Now she was wondering what her goal should really be. Logic had immediately suggested the doubling of her original weight, making it 250 pounds, but was that really an ultimate goal, or merely a number along the way? She realized she didn't know.

But that lower belly. She had learned how to manage being so much bigger with the way that she dressed, her current dilemma with nothing left to wear excepted. She had learned how to avoid long walks that made her inner thighs rub to the point of discomfort and stairs that made her gasp for air. She had learned to ignore the looks that she got from friends and family when she was taking that third serving, only made possible by first unbuttoning her pants. Even her boyfriend, the guy who had encouraged her to start on this journey, had asked, "Isn't having to unbutton your pants the signal that it is time to stop eating?"  She had learned to ignore the looks that she got from strangers when putting bags of cookies and chips into her cart at the supermarket or ordering a large shake and a double cone at the ice cream store: she had learned that more scoops than two tended to melt too quickly and get messing. She had learned that her appetite was better satisfied by the cone followed by the shake. The fact that she would be consuming more than 2,000 extra calories simply made her confident that she would hit her goals, if she could figure out what they really were. And how she loved ice cream. It was almost the perfect food, since she could eat so much of it and only feel full for a little while, where binges of foods that were harder to digest could leave her feeling uncomfortable for hours afterwards. She had learned that ice cream allowed her appetite to return in half the time. 

But that lower belly and its accompanying FUPA were causing a problem that she had not been able to solve, and it was causing friction with her boyfriend. Yes, his fetish was well served by his being able to shake her ocean of belly fat, grab her back fat that had exceeded any definition of simply being "love handles," and holding on to her ass that was achieving impressive dimensions. But her lower belly was creating a problem.

As her waist disappeared and was perhaps too quickly replaced by this balloon of blubber that wrapped around her midsection, new logistics in love making had been required. For the first 50 pounds or so, it was simply the fun of having something more to hold on to or rub and then something more to push against. The next 25 pounds or so started suggesting different positioning; finding that angle that was easier. The last 25 pounds to her goal, which now turned out to be the last 31 pounds and no longer the goal, had been different. The challenge now was finding ways to work around that belly. With her on the bottom, her belly had to be pushed up to get access, and mounded up so as to be out of the way meant that he really couldn't lay on top of her. He had learned that his body could do the work of holding it out of the way, if he positioned himself correctly, but it was a lot of weight and took effort. With her on top, it was better when she leaned back. This gave him a great view of her fat, jiggling body and avoided squeezing the breath out of him, as happened when she lay on top of him. Who would have thought that gaining only 106 pounds could make such a difference. Mounting her from the back was best when she stayed on her knees, since with her larger ass, access was a stretch if she was laying on her belly. As challenging as putting her weight on top of him could be, she had learned that, if she had eaten recently, which was pretty much the standard, even laying on her own belly could be difficult.

Her boyfriend had always enjoyed going down on her, but he was finding her thicker FUPA and that hanging belly a problem. It just always seemed to be in the way. Having Laura have to hold her belly back interfered with her being able to focus on her pleasure. Her boyfriend had tried using his head to push her belly back, but that put strain on his neck. If she was kneeling over him, her hanging belly smothered him. They had even experimented with a  form of bondage, creating a kind sling to hold her belly in position. She could tell that this extra effort in love making was taking a toll on her boyfriend. Their frequency had dropped and the length of sessions had shortened. She could tell that he was starting to wonder if this feeding his fetish had been such a good idea. After all, his desires had been well served with the first 50 pounds. He had expected resistance from her to gaining more. He was still into feeding her - that hadn't changed, but what he wanted to do after an eating session had changed. In the beginning it was foreplay for him. Now, with making love requiring so much more effort, he simply wasn't so quick to want to jump her when she was bloated to the point of that belly being taut and spherical. He did enjoy that her oral fixation included using her mouth on him and he was turning to that as his sexual release after feeding her more and more lately. Unfortunately, for Laura, that often left her feeling unsatisfied, which seemed at time to prompt her look for a snack after servicing him, despite the reality that she was still totally bloated. He even joked with her one time as she was heading back into the kitchen to get some cookies, suggesting that she have a very thin wafer, reminding her of the scene in the Monty Python movie that has Mr. Creosote literally exploding when he is offered a very thin wafer after totally gorging himself.

However for Laura,  in a kind of Pavlovian training, binging had become sexual for her. As she got fuller and fuller, she would get wetter and wetter. She had grown to love sex with her belly inflated to the point of pain. And as she grew and grew and was getting fatter and fatter, this meant a bigger and bigger belly. They had finally figured out that there was really only one position that worked when she was now in that condition, which had her belly approaching 60 inches around after a serious binge. They had measured. In their new position, Laura would lay near the edge of the bed with her legs over the side and spread wide enough to separate her thighs. If her thighs were still even partially on the bed, there was no way to keep them apart and they would flow together denying access. Hanging free, she was able to make room between her thighs. They would tie up her belly with the sling, to pull it away from her crotch. With pillows under her ass, she was at a height that enabled her boyfriend, standing at the edge of the bed, to slide into her without resistance. He did admit that he enjoyed being able to play with her belly in this position, but he also had complained that it seemed more like he was servicing her, instead of making love. Still, they were both able to get off this way. Laura had admitted to him that her full belly in this position seemed to pull up on her FUPA, creating a kind of tug and pull as he slid in and out that was a total turn on.

The night before the button had popped off of her fat jeans, after making love this way, Laura had commented that, if her ass got fat enough, they wouldn't need the pillows. She thought that would have been fetish talk for her boyfriend, but he didn't say anything. She even thought maybe he had kind of shuddered at the comment. Laying in bed that night, she started wondering if she could be getting too fat. She fell asleep trying to figure out how models that she had seen on web sites handled sex with their larger bodies. Jaye was simply huge at more than 500 pounds. Boberry had actually recently crossed 600 pounds and Lainalia could even be flirting with 700 pounds. As she was drifting off to sleep, she was thinking how skinny she actually was. After all, she had hundreds of pounds to gain before she would be in that company.

But that was not the real problem. It was with her lower belly for other reasons. This was a problem that only she had experienced and she found it too embarrassing to discuss with anyone else; even her boyfriend. When she and her boyfriend had started on feeding his fetish, it was him feeding her. They would arrange dates around feeding escapades. Sometimes this would be his buying things and feeding her at home to the point of discomfort. Other times it would be a kind of wandering smorgasbord, with him taking her to restaurant after restaurant and then to an ice cream store and finally to a bakery, so that it was a movable feast. This maintained an illusion that seemed almost normal at each place. They had experimented with all you can eat buffets, but found that these could be awkward, as he brought more and more plates to her, and then had to help her waddle out when it became hard to walk. She hadn't admitted it to him, but she had found the looks that they would get from the other people at the buffet a turn on. While this started as his fetish, it was quickly becoming hers as well and she was starting to think that nothing could embarrass her; not the comments from her family, or her wisecracking friends, or the stares and whispered of strangers.

But as over eating and the feeling of being bloated had become her fetish, she had started binging on her own. She had not admitted this to her boyfriend and was actually careful to conceal it, although she wasn't sure why. She seemed to like it being her secret. She had perfected this to fit into their schedule so that she could pack in an extra meal picked up a fast food restaurant on the way home from work and still be able to be impressive with consumption at dinner two hours later. She carried wipes and breath freshener in her bag so that she could remove the signs of the extra meal. She had found hiding spaces in her closet so that she could conceal a box of cupcakes or twinkies and sneak them when she got the chance. After one of their feeding sessions, she had only been able to finish half of a coconut custard pie. In fairness, it was following a lot of other food. Still, that half a coconut custard pie was calling to her in the morning when she woke up. After she finished it, she realized that it would be something that her boyfriend would notice and she was trying to protect the illusion that he was the feeder and she merely accommodating him as his feedee. Disappearing half pies could be a clue to him that she was binge eating on her own. In a rare burst of energy, she hurried down to the store and picked up a matching pie. Of course, the deception was not yet complete. She then ate the half of the new pie so that there was the same half left. It was only because she had to get to work that she had the discipline to stop before finishing that pie, as well. Half pie left in the fridge ready for him to feed to her that night: deception complete.

But the problem with her lower belly. The one that she found too embarrassing to discuss with anyone else, including her boyfriend. That large hanging belly, a victim of gravity, covered her FUPA. Even if she was laying down, it had gotten so big that it was hard for her to reach herself. When she would binge privately, blowing her belly up to the point that she was totally turned on, it had become difficult for her to pleasure herself. This made her aware of how fat she was actually getting and how much a slave she had become to food. She embarrassed herself that watching a television ad for the juicy flame broiled burgers at the fast food restaurant could get her juices flowing; even if she was sitting completed stuffed on the couch after a good feeding. It was as if her appetite was connected to a sensory condition that no longer involved her stomach. In fact, there were times now that it was her boyfriend who, when her belly would be so round that it looked like she could literally pop and her breathing had been reduced to shallow panting, would decide to not feed her more, even if she was claiming that she could still eat. She could tell that he was starting to get worried, and that was a little embarrassing.

But that was not what embarrassed her the most on that morning when the button had popped off the pair of pants that she had intentionally purchased with the thought that they would fit her no matter how fat she would get. She decided that she needed to buy new clothes quickly, since she had almost nothing left to wear. She called in to say she would not be there, since she was not feeling well. Dressed in too, too tight sweat pants - pants so tight that you could see the cellulite on her ass and thighs, she called for an Uber to take her to the mall. After they pulled up, she wobbled her butt across the seat to the curb side door, which she could tell the driver was watching in the rear view mirror. As she struggled to get herself out the door, the strain proved just too much for this poor pair of sweats and the seam over her ass suddenly split wide open. The driver couldn't help himself and burst out laughing, which caused the group of skinny college bound girls standing on the sidewalk to glance over, just as Laura turned her ass away from the view being enjoyed by the laughing driver, so that it was pointing directly at them. Realizing that they were watching this pig in a girl suit, who had just burst out of sweat pants that any two of them could have put on at the same time, they burst out laughing. This of course called more attention to the scene and there was no where that Laura could turn that would not put her ass on display for somebody. If only she had not overeaten her way out of being able to fit into any of her underwear several pounds ago. After what was only 15 seconds, but seemed like an hour to Laura, a nice looking young man came to her rescue. He walked over to Laura and offered her his sweater so she could tie it around her waist to cover her ass. Standing there in full blush, with the sweat from the effort and experience dripping off her face, she thanked him. He asked if she would like to join him for breakfast in the food court. Startled at first, Laura regained her composure and told him that she would join him there in fifteen minutes, after she had been able to pick up a new pair of pants and change, so she could return his sweater. He agreed, but parted with a recommendation, "Make sure you get something that gives you some extra room. This mall has a great food court." 

Popping buttons off of pants in front of her boyfriend and splitting the seam on her sweatpants in public made her feel like an over stuffed pig. But her thoughts as she walked into the store to get something to wear was that it could make  sense to pick up sweats in a couple of sizes: those for now, those for later, and then those for the future. After all, breakfast was waiting and she already knew that this mall had a great food court.

 

 

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13 hours ago, acdc34434 said:

Why is this not coming up?????, u guys are making me so fat, and I was so slim, 

Tease me about what a pig I have become, I will select one comment, and the winner will get the next video for free!!, I will decide the winner on Tuesday noon 💋

 

 

Oh Laura what have you done to yourself? You don't like to eat healthy and do exercise like before? You prefer a big soft fat belly instead of your flat belly? A juicy chubby ass full of cellulite that jiggles every time you walk, you touch it? That thick legs and arms full of fat? Enormous fat boobs that need bigger and bigger bras?  That chubby face with double chin and big cachetes?

Oh for god how many kilos you gained? 10, 20, 30, 50??? How much do you weight know? Omg i can't believe it, specially from you to be that heavy, how do you expect to run, to walk, to get up of the bed every morning?

Eras tan delgadita y atletica en México, qué te hicieron esos canadienses para engordarte? They gave you a lot of tasty junk food every day to fatten you? You left salad to eat pizza, burgers, ice cream, cakes, chips chocolates, pasta until you can't eat more? Until you make yourself such a tremendous fat ass?

Mija estás hecha una verdadera maraña, una cerda, qué pensarán de ti tus amigas tan atleticas que van diario a correr, al gym y comen sano de verte así de gorda chingandote a diario tanta comida chatarra que te engorda tanto? Hay que bajar esa panza mija antes de que engordes aun más en navidad. Qué vamos a hacer contigo? Dimelo, te metemos al gimnasio, te alimentamos con lechuga por un año, te obligamos a usar tu ropa vieja de cuando eras flaquita en especial tu traje de porrista para que sientas vergüenza de lo cerda que estás?

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Has engordado tanto que todos los apodos que tenias han cambiado a. gordita, chanchita, cerdita y variantes.

- En los medios de transporte todos te ceden el asiento de embarazada sin pensarlo... Ya no caminas, ni corres para trasladarte. Ahora simplemente ruedas.

- Y si decides andar, tus muslos se aman tanto el uno al otro que se la pasan juntos todo el tiempo.

- En invierno ya no necesitas ropa termica, ni mucho abrigo. Con lo rechoncha y sexy que te has puesto irradias calor. Llevas aislante termico y calefaccion incorporada.

-  Ya no usas almohadillas para sentarte. Con tu acolchonado trasero alcanza y sobra.

- Cuando llegas a una parrillada dicen: !!!LISTO EL CERDO!!!

- En las fiestas cuando bebes cerveza puedes presumir que la estas guardando en un barril, tu gran barriga jaja.

Y por ultimo. Te dejare unas sabias palabras. nunca dejes que te digan que no estas en forma... redondo es una forma.

 

Espero que te haya gustado jajaja, saludos. Sigue aumentando kilos y kilos de belleza :D

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