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  1. 1 point
    It’s swimsuit season! Check out this clip of me trying to squeeze into an old suit. 💕🐷🍩
  2. 1 point
    Hey I am a gainer/plus size model (you can also find me on **@jenny420 or on Instagram @retro_curves) I am looking for a sugar daddy. Hit me up if interested[emoji8]
  3. 1 point
    Mamahorker

    💝

    💝
  4. 1 point
    KyraKane

    Good Morning!!!

    Good Morning!!!
  5. 1 point
    UPDATE: Tonight we were texting about how fat people have a natural weight advantage in fights, and she said “that’s why I stay quite large” I told her that she wasn’t doing a very good job, and that she was taking the piss (thinking she was doing that typical girl thing) Then she’s like, “you only know me now: I used to look quite different.” At first I thought she meant that she had slimmed down.. then I realised she meant that she was now BIGGER. Looking at her older photos on insta, I think she’s right. I’m awaiting her reply but I feel like I might have found the perfect chance to introduce my preference and provide support/encouragement.. fingers crossed
  6. 1 point
    cyrobolives2.0

    Isabella Moore

  7. 1 point

    Version 1.0.0

    Hey, check this out! The Piggy is back in a vaporwave fashion, this time she is hosting a body tour just for you... 😉 Ready for watching her curves and wide butt cheeks? Take a quick peek! Wanna' see more of her? Leave a review, there is always room for improvement, support the Nicole in her Piggy life! ♥

    $7.99

  8. 1 point
    GeorgeB

    Collette and Eric

    Chapter Twenty Nine As we were putting the groceries away, I suggested something that I had been fantasizing about, but, as soon as I said it, I felt like I could have crossed a line that might cause Collette to retreat from this adventure. One of the things that I enjoy most at on-line sites is when chubby girls reveal their weight gain and measurements. Watching Shar step on the scales after several videos of her pounding down weight gain shapes and documenting her increasing girth always got me going. I started thinking about doing this with Collette and asked her if she would like to check her weight and measurements as a kind of record what was happening to her body. I also suggested that we maybe take photos. I felt really awkward as soon as I asked. Luckily for me, Collette didn’t freak out and actually agreed to do it. I started the grill so the coals would get hot while we were getting Collette’s measurements. Collette got a note pad and listed various body parts. She had a tape measure and she showed me where to take the dimensions. For her breasts, the tape was over her bra and tee shirt. I asked her if the tape should be over the roll of fat above her bra on her back or in the dent formed by her bra. "What is the difference?" she asked. We measured both over the roll she was 38 inches, in the crease she was 37. She decided that her chest was 38 inches. Next we did around her torso an inch or two above her belly button. Again, I needed clarification, should this be around her love handles or above her love handles. She decided above, which meant that her waist was 35 inches. "Don’t forget, I am bloated from donuts yesterday to breakfast this morning. It is still all in there," she offered as a defense for her thickness. "Don’t worry. No one is judging," I said. "I guess next is your hips." "Nope. I think next is my belly. This time it is around the love handles and a couple of inches below my belly button," Collette instructed. I should have thought of that myself. Pulling the tape around her lower belly, which was very pronounced as a result both of the trip to Europe and to what she had pounded down over the last day or two. "39 inches," I announced. "Oh, fuck," was her only comment. "Now for the hips," I said. She stood up very straight, as though that was going to make some difference. As dramatic as her belly was, her ass really showed a difference from before the trip. "41 inches, if I position the tape around where your butt sticks out the furthest," I explained. "Is there another option?" She asked. "Now, measure one of my thighs. I think I remember it being something like 24 inches last Spring." "Which one?" I asked. "Either," she said, "I doubt that they are different. "Actually, your right thigh measures 27 inches, if I put the tape around the squishiest part near the top, but your left thigh measures a half inch bigger," I reported. "Weird," she commented, "Why would my thighs be different?" "Probably the same reason that your right breast is a little bigger than your left," I explained. "You do different things with your right arm and left arm, as well as your right leg and left leg. The muscles are probably just slightly different," I offered. "Great, so I am fat and asymmetrical," she complained. "I think most people are," I suggested. "What? Fat?" she asked, laughing. "No, not symmetrical," I said. I was glad she was laughing. "So, one more thing, unless you want to measure something else," I suggested. "Time to step on the scale." We went into the bathroom and, before she stepped on the scale, she sat down on the toilet to pee. She stood up and stepped on the scale, again standing up very straight as though that would make some difference. I read the number and wrote it down without announcing it. "So what do I weigh?" she asked, a bit perplexed. I was a little nervous to tell her, since I thought it could freak her out. "What were you the other day when you weighed yourself?" I asked. "183," she answered. "Why? What am I now? I am assuming that I didn’t lose anything by the way that you are acting." "A few pounds more," was all I offered. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked. "Why don’t you want to tell me what I weigh?" "I am afraid that you will be disappointed," I answered. "I know how hard you have been working to eat as much as possible and I am afraid that you be disappointed that you haven’t gained more," I said trying to be cute. "Aren’t you the funny man," she said. "What do I weigh!!!" "Unfortunately, you only weigh 191," I reported. "You are kidding, right?" she asked, with her eyes wide. "There is no way that I could have gained 8 pounds in just a couple of days." "As you have been saying, you probably have a 10 pound food baby sitting in your guts," I suggested. "Let’s get things ready for lunch," I said trying to change the topic. "What about the photos," Collette asked feigning modesty. "Really?" I asked with much too much enthusiasm. "We could take a few," I said trying to sound a bit less adolescent. Why was this so exciting to me? I mean I have been making love to her and enjoying her body in real time. Why did I find the idea of photographing her so tantalizing? It is also not like I haven’t taken photos of her before. But this was totally different: we were going to take photos to show how fat she has gotten. And then, there was the possibility that there would be more photos taken later showing her fatter. "I will get my camera. We could take just a few for the record," I suggested. I took pictures of her in her sweat pants and tee shirt, with her striking sexy poses. In one, she pulled her sweat pants down and tight against her hips so that her belly hung over them and with her tee shirt pushed up to reveal her big belly. "How about a couple without the tee," I asked. "You are going to guard these with your life, right?" she asked. "Of course. In fact, I will give them to you so you can be the keeper of these top secret images," I suggested. She took off her tee shirt and bra and I got some great shots that revealed her love handles and chub. "There is one more shot I want to take, remembering how you looked last night when you were laying on your back," I requested. "What is it? Me looking like a beached whale?" she asked. "Come and lie down on the bed with just your bikini underpants," I directed. "Now, spread your legs wide." "Are you taking a picture of my cunny?" She questioned. "No. You’ll see. You can always delete anything that you don’t like," I suggested. I got down low and took a shot looking up at her belly as a dome over her fupa and thighs. Leaving her in that position, I then got a couple of shots from the side showing how her belly was sticking up into the air, even though she hadn’t eaten in a while. The last one was me standing over her, showing how her body spread out when she was lying down. I couldn’t help noticing that she really was looking quite chubby. Chapter Thirty After taking the photos, Eric suggested that I check them out on the computer screen while he started making lunch. As I was downloading the images from the computer, he brought me the pint of vanilla chocolate chip, which he had left out of the freezer after we got back from the store, so that the ice cream was soft and easy to eat. I don’t know why I was surprised, but it tasted really good. Looking at the pictures of my chubby round body while eating ice cream out of the carton, I was stimulated by the decadence. I was surprised that I had no feelings of being embarrassed or shy about the way that my body looked. I actually thought that I could hold my own with some of the more modest web sites that I had visited. Obviously, I was nothing compared to any of the women on BigCuties who all outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. Some on that site, like Boberry and Jae, outweighed me by more than 400 pounds. That is more than two more of me. What does it feel like to be that enormous, I wondered. Still, the photos showed that I had a nice appearance of a rounded, soft body. I thought that I would fit in very well with some of the women that I had seen on Curvage. Another ten or twenty pounds and I could rival Shar. After Eric had put food on the grill, he came over with the tape measure as I was sitting in front of the computer. "There is one measurement that we forgot to take," he said. "I want to measure around your belly while you are sitting." He reached the tape around me, trying to be dramatic, as if this was an arduous task. "We’re going to need a bigger boat," he joked. He pulled the tape tight and announced that my lower belly expanded to 42 inches when I was seated. I didn’t have anything to compare that to, but it sounded really big to me. Fondling the generous roll of chub at my waist while sitting, I had to acknowledge that it should sound pretty big, at least for a recently slim girl who was having her first adventure with weight gain. Looking at the picture he had taken between my legs of the underside of my belly, I was struck by the number of stretch marks I had, including a couple that were pinkish red, which I assumed meant that they were new. I wanted to blame the last 24 hours, but I knew that I must have simply not been inspecting myself carefully enough. Women get stretch marks when they are pregnant due to the rapid expansion of their belly. Why wouldn’t the same happen to me as I have gained in three months more than is recommended for a pregnant women at full term? I figured that the stretch marks weren’t worse due to the fact that my 50 pound weight gain was spread everywhere on my body, except maybe my forearms and ankles. My face had also survived relatively intact, with maybe just a little bit fuller jaw line. Wait. Did I say 50 pound weight gain? While I did think I had a lot of undigested food sitting in my guts, I had just weighed in at 191. That is 61 pounds in less than 40 days. Suddenly, that felt shocking. I looked at the other photos more carefully and studied how my body really looked now. This was not a temporary result showing the after affects of a fun weekend. I was legitimately and totally fat. Why wasn’t I more upset? I searched for a weight list and found out that, yes, I am officially "overweight" at 5'-8". The chart showed that I was still within what was "normal" until I had hit maybe 163 pounds. I noticed that, at 130 pounds, I had only been a couple of pounds above being categorized as "underweight". Realizing that I was now 28 pounds over 163, the chart showed that I was close to the 197 pounds that would move me out of the yellow "overweight" range and into the white background that was not labeled. What would I be then? I went to a different chart and found the answer. If I hit 197 pounds, I would be in the pink zone, which that chart labeled as "obese". I had never thought of myself as being obese. But wait, why would I think of myself as obese. At 191, I was only overweight. Only. And I figured that there was not way that I could gain six pounds in one day. I then checked out how to calculate my BMI, which was what these charts were based on. Healthy was considered a BMI of between 5 and 25. From 25 to 30 was overweight and 30 and above was obese. The magic number for my height was 197 pounds. At 196, I was overweight. At 197, I was obese. The BMI chart also showed another category. Apparently, if I ever got to 257 pounds, I would then be morbidly obese, which is a BMI of 40. But at 191 pounds, my BMI was 29, which was just overweight and not obese. I figured that when my body was finally willing to give up what it was holding in my guts, that 191 would drop down. If I was really holding a 10 pound food baby, I would be 181 pounds, which would mean that I would have lost 2 pounds since I got back. Yeah, fat chance. Eric came over and looked at what I had on the screen. "Why are you researching BMIs?" he asked. "You know me," I answered, "I was just curious. Guess what! I am officially overweight and just maybe 6 pounds away from being obese." "Okay," he tread softly, "And what does that mean?" he asked. "I guess it means nothing, but I did find it interesting," I continued. "I hope it doesn’t change any plans at the moment, since I just put a couple of plates of food on the table for lunch," he explained. "Don’t worry. No change," I answered. "Game on for today," I reassured him. He was smart enough not to ask about tomorrow. "Do you have any ice cream left?" he asked, gesturing towards the pint that I had been eating from absent mindedly while looking at the computer. I handed him the pint, which was about 2/3 empty. He took the pint and headed back to the kitchen. "I figure you will need something to drink with lunch so I am fixing you a root beer float," he explained. I made my way to the table thinking, "Watch out! Stand back! Fat girl coming through!" It is funny how documenting something can either reinforce or adjust self-perception. Whatever the charts said about normal, overweight, or obese, all I needed to know was that I was fat.
  9. 1 point
    GeorgeB

    Collette and Eric

    Chapter Twenty Seven Colette seemed to really be getting into the feeder/feedee thing. When we got up that morning, I half expected that she would want to beg off for continuing into the day, after the amount she had eaten the night before, but she was still game. "Do you really want to try feeding until bedtime tonight?" I asked. "If you don’t think it is going to freak you out. I don’t want to do anything that makes you think I am gross," she answered. "It’s not going to freak me out and I don’t think you are gross," I confirmed. "If we want to do this for the day, I suggest that we change the format from last night. If I feed you too much too soon, you will need to stop." "You are quickly becoming quite the expert," she complemented me; or at least I took it as a complement. I fixed breakfast for us both, including omelettes with cheese served with bacon, sausage, and toast. While the serving I gave Colette was very generous, it wasn’t crazy; just three eggs, three strips of bacon, and three sausage patties. I also fixed her a glass of cranberry juice. I think that the experience of eating so much the day before made it easy for that breakfast to just register as a normal meal. The fact that it was more than twice what she would have had for a normal breakfast in the past, and more than I had served myself, didn’t really seem to register. After breakfast, we got dressed and decided to go to the supermarket down the street. I suggested the fixings for a pasta dinner, as well as what we would need to have a Labor Day barbecue celebration consisting of hot dog, hamburgers, and several "salads" including macaroni and potato. I wasn’t sure what was going to work best, so I figured "be prepared" for either option. Colette added lettuce and other vegetables, as well as a healthy assortment of fruits. We made our way to the ice cream freezers and Colette picked out pints of Hagen Days vanilla chocolate chip and chocolate chocolate chip. I quickly added several others including french vanilla, dulce de leche, cookies n’ creme, and chocolate chip cookie dough. Colette turned to me and raised an eye brow. "That could be over doing it," she commented. "I just want to have back ups and alternatives," I explained. "There is no obligation for any of these to disappear quickly," I added. "Very practical, then," she said. "As long as we are just providing the household basics, we should probably get these," as Colette added a large bottle of chocolate sauce and Marshmallow Fluff to the cart. We passed the dairy section and I added a large can of Reddi Wip. "Oh, my darling," was all she said. We also got some general things for the house. Colette added a big bottle of prune juice to the cart. She also picked up a bottle of stool softeners and a large bottle of Pepto Bismol. I didn’t ask questions. As we were walking home along the sidewalk, we passed the Dunkin Donuts. "Should we stop in?" I asked, but Colette just shook her head no. I think I am off donuts for a while," she answered. "I don’t think I could even consider eating another donut for, I don’t know, another day or two?" she said with a smile. "What are you thinking about lunch?" I asked. It was only around 11:00, but I worried that I was not doing very well as Collette’s feeder at the moment. "You should let me know where you stand on continuing what we started yesterday afternoon. You did say that you wanted to experiment with eating to your capacity through this evening, but if last night was sufficient, I would understand. I mean, I think you did succeed at really eating to capacity and, while you didn’t seem any worse the wear this morning at breakfast, I would understand if you wanted to call it off or slow it down," I offered. Collette slowed down in her walk and had a bit of a perplexed look on her face like she was pondering something heavy; okay, sorry about that. She stopped and pretended that she was looking into a store window, but I figured she was collecting her thoughts. I figured that it was important that I respected her wishes and not push her someplace where she didn’t want to go. Even if she was not aware of my fantasies, I didn’t want to make her do anything that she did not want to do. After a few moments, Collette responded, "I kind of thought we made a commitment to something, but I realize that I don’t really know what that is. We just spent a lot of money on groceries and, if you are having second thoughts and would prefer that I start to get rid of this chub and a half, buying six pints of ice cream is going to make it tough." I could tell that she was anxious and I wanted to try to make her feel more comfortable and confident. "Just tell me what you are thinking," I suggested. "Well, its complicated. I guess I would like to continue this experiment into gluttony through the end of today, as we planned yesterday, but I would totally understand it, if that would just gross you out," she explained. "You have been really great and I appreciate the way that you have avoided being judgmental. If I was with someone like Emma’s boyfriend, I would probably have been abandoned at the airport. But I also know that this is not something that I ever thought would happen. If you think this is a mistake or it is starting to gross you out, you just need to tell me." I put my arms around her and pulled her close. "Darling, I made you breakfast this morning and I am the one who added pints of ice cream to the cart. If this is something that you want to experiment with, I am with you on it. I am not saying that I totally understand it, but so far it was been really fun. It’s kind of kinky. With the sex that we have been enjoying, I think you can easily tell that you are not grossing me out." "You would be honest about this, right?" She asked. "I mean I don’t want to go deeper into this and then suddenly have you tell me that I am too fat for you." "That’s not going to happen," I assured her. "I love you." "Okay," she decided, "So let’s continue today. I don’t know what happens after today, but there is some weird force in me - I am a bit afraid that it is a big one," she continued hefting her belly for emphasis, "that wants me to experiment with my ability to both consume vast quantities and to experience the results of doing that." "So, then, back to my question," I asked, "What are you thinking about lunch?" Chapter Twenty Eight After making love this morning, Eric and I got dressed and headed out for provisions. I started putting on the size 12 jeans, but they felt snug on my bloated belly. Anticipating a continued assault on my digestive system, I folded those back up and put on the 14s, which were not as loose around the waste as I was expecting. Still, they gave me room. Eric made me a good solid breakfast with generous portions of everything, but not remarkably so. I half expected him to do something like make me a two foot stack of pancakes or something. That scene from Uncle Buck where he makes giant pancakes for a birthday breakfast popped into my mind. While I still was carrying a lot of food in my gut, I was feeling better and had no problem finishing the breakfast without effort. We headed out for a walk, which actually felt good. Sitting in the apartment emphasized my feeling like a lump of lard. While walking made me very aware of the weight of my belly, moving around made me feel better. I also could tell that my breasts and ass were beneficiaries of this continuing gain. In fact, every part of me seemed like it was jiggling around as I walked. We went to the supermarket and Eric proceeded to load the cart with what I expected would be the next round in my feeding adventure. I made sure that we added some fruits and vegetables, but I still tried to signal my enthusiasm by adding two pints of ice cream to the cart. Eric doubled down on that gesture by adding another four pints. While I had already demonstrated my ability to knock off a quart of ice cream in a single sitting, once for myself earlier in the week and again last night with Eric, I was hoping that Eric was not thinking that I would be able to eat three quarts of ice cream in one day, regardless of how many different flavors that I had. When Eric made it clear that these were general provisions, not necessarily something that I would be eating that day, I felt less intimidated and even tossed chocolate sauce and Marshmallow Fluff into the cart, as if I needed more sugar calories. I was thinking of buying an enema bag, in case things did not free up soon in my colon, but I decided against it, in case that would make Eric uncomfortable. I did get some stool softeners, though, and he didn’t comment. As we were walking home, we passed Dunkin Donuts. I was tempted, but figured more donuts could interfere with whatever Eric had planned for real food. I felt like I really needed more roughage and protein. Eric then asked me about lunch, which made me feel funny. I guess I was assuming that he was driving this ship, and when he asked me what I wanted for lunch, it suddenly made me feel self conscious. I am not sure why, but I felt insecure, as if the way that I answered would be either turning left or turning right. I started thinking, "What if he is only humoring me on all of this and I am actually starting to freak him out." After all, he fell in love with a hard body and I was well on my way to being the Pillsbury dough girl. As an example on how far down this path I felt I had traveled, that image of myself actually made me wonder whether we should have picked up a roll of cookie dough. I stopped walking and took a moment to organize my thoughts and then I tried to put it back onto him, explaining that I was assuming that we were doing what we had planned the day before, as if it was the equivalent of getting the car washed. I intentionally put it all on him and made it clear that I would stop, if he wasn’t into it. At the same time, I felt a bit disappointed since I had gotten into the idea that he was my feeder and I was his feedee, like in the stories I had read on-line. He reassured me, and made it clear that he was looking forward to completing the science experiment: how much could Colette eat and what would happen next. Purely cause and effect; nothing emotional. If his behavior in the bedroom was any indication of his feelings about my plump body, there was a lot of emotion wrapped up in this. Eric assured me and I felt better. I asked him to tell me if I started getting too fat for him, but his response was that couldn’t happen. As we continued our walk home, I started thinking that was an interesting answer. It could have been, "You’ve got a really long way to go before that would happen," or "This is just something that we are doing as kind of a continued celebration of your culinary vacation. You’ll be back to your normal routine soon, so no worries." But instead, his answer suggested that it would be impossible for me to get too fat for him. I shook my head that this was silly for me to think about, since it wasn’t as if he were defining boundaries. It was just a really nice answer. As we walked along, I started thinking about this as a science experiment: how am I affected by food and how do I feel as my body changes. That led me to think about elementary school science and the experiment about what happens when you combine a base with an acid, usually baking soda with vinegar: it is a volcano of foam. One girl on a website had shown herself doing a combination of eating Mentos and then drinking Coke, with the result that it expanded her belly to the point that it really looked like she could pop. I reminded myself to do some more research on whether I could actually explode if I ate the wrong combination of foods. As we were entering our building, I asked Eric, "So what is the answer to your question? What do I want for lunch?" "I thought I was asking you," he laughed, "I guess you are suggesting that it should be up to me as your feeder." "Hey, we all have our jobs to do," I answered, sounding very authoritative. "Well, we have several options," he explained. "I have the fixings for a barbeque, but also for a pasta dinner. We could also get take out or go out for something," he offered. "Well, we are home now, so it probably makes sense to put the groceries away before anything else," I suggested. "Are you in the mood to cook?" I asked. "I am willing to help, but my job, if I understand it is to eat. I don’t want to force you to cook, if you are not in the mood." Erik smiled, and answered, "I am totally in the mood to cook for you, if that works for you. How about a Labor Day barbeque," he asked. "Sounds great to me," I responded, as I set my bags on the table and started to put things away. "There is one thing I should have thought of yesterday, but I am not sure you would be willing," he asked, sounding a bit hesitant. What did he have in mind, I wondered. "Go ahead," I offered, "What do you have in mind?" I asked, assuming maybe it would be more sex before lunch. After all, he was a bit quick with things this morning. "Well," he started, "I am just thinking that it could be kind of fun to document what you are doing." "What do you have in mind?" I asked. "Well, he continued, sounding a little nervous, "What if we were to measure you and weigh you as a kind of before, and then do the same after you have finished? And maybe take a couple of pictures of your progress?" I could tell as soon as he said it that he had thought a lot about this, but maybe felt like he had gone a step too far, but I responded the question with a question, "Who would see these photos? Who is this for?" I made sure that my tone sounded more curious than accusatory. "What? For us! Who else?" he responded, sounding very exposed. "I was just wondering and wanted to know before answering," I explained. "You know there are places on-line where people post pictures of girls getting fatter. I just wanted to make sure that, if I were to say yes, it would be just for us. AND, we would hide them really well. I am not interested in anybody seeing my body in its full glory after you have gotten done stuffing me." "No. It would be just for us. Like a way for you and me to really experience what you are doing," he explained. "You mean, what we are doing," I corrected him. "Yes, what we are doing," he confirmed. "Well, the first problem is that the before should have been yesterday before the donuts, or maybe even the weekend before I left for Europe," I noted. "I am sure that I have gained several hundred pounds since yesterday," I joked. "But still," Eric pressed, "right now is before later. I just thought it could be interesting." "Interesting? Yeah, I guess, maybe, kind of," I answered. I was curious, if also a bit terrified of stepping on the scale. And measuring me, I kind of did have a before, since I was measured when I got my bra and then again when I got my swimsuit. Averaging, I figured that I was, or at least had been, 37 on the chest over my breasts, 32 around the waste if I didn’t suck in, and 39 around the hips. And of course, I had weighed myself after I got back so I knew that I had been 183 then. Before I left for Europe I weighed 130 and was something like 34, 26, 36 and I had figured that my 26 inch waist, which sounded thick for a dancer, was more due to my muscles than my fat. The question now was how much damage - damage? - I had done with my eating since I had gotten back. If I was honest, I probably had been eating as much, if not even more since arriving home than when I was making a pig of myself in Italy and France. And that idea of damage, interesting. We are so conditioned to think of a woman’s weight gain as something bad. Had I done damage to my figure? I guess it depends on how you look at it. If the goal was to better fill a bathtub, I definitely had made great progress. Win in a war of teeter-toter? I could kick the pre-Europe Collette’s ass. Eric acted as if maybe he had gone too far and started trying to retrace his steps. "It’s no big deal. I just thought maybe it could fit in with your experimentation," he said almost apologetically. Now was my turn to help him relax. I walked over and moved myself into his arms, pushing my big belly into him as he moved his hands to my back fat. "All discussions like this need to be had while we are hugging one another and making physical contact," I proposed. "You are right. It could be interesting." "I will set up the grill on the deck to get the coals ready to barbecue," he suggested. "While we are waiting we could check things out." While he was taking care of the grill, I took off my shirt, bra, and jeans - were these my fat pant? - and changed into sweat pants and a tee shirt, figuring that would make measuring easier. I was also figuring that it could make eating easier, if Eric was going to go a bit nuts, like he did last night. But I guess that isn’t really fair, thinking that he was the one who went nuts. After all I am the one who ate it all and was living with the evidence, as I looked down and notice how my belly was pushing my tee shirt up and my sweat pants down, revealing a ripe expanse of roundness that, in my unstuffed condition, had the density of a squishy water balloon. I could still feel the muscles under the chub, but boy was there ever a nice, thick layer of blubber. I guess gaining more than 50 pounds has to show up somewhere. Maybe documenting my body could be fun.
  10. 1 point
    lexxyy

    Wanna taste? 🤤

    Wanna taste? 🤤
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