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Showing content with the highest reputation on 08/24/2019 in all areas

  1. 7 points
    I stuff as many hotdogs and burgers as I possibly can. My belly becomes big and bloated. I drink pop, moan and burp. GS X x

    $14.99

  2. 6 points
    I went on a movie date recently, and when I sat down a button on my dress just popped off! 😅 🐷 I also had to lift the armrest up so my thick hips could fit into those tiny seats. Maybe they didn’t notice? 😳
  3. 6 points
    ***NEW VIDEO WITH SPECIAL PRICING AND REVIEW CONTEST*** HURRY ONLY A FEW HOURS LEFT!!!! Watch as I indulge in one of my favorite fattening treats a cake shake and lots of belly play with my growing belly. Until 8-24 at 11:59 there is a special introductory price and a review contest. One luck review will receive my next clip completely FREE! All money earned goes to food for growing my belly 😉
  4. 6 points
    Thinking about stuffing my belly with yummy treats Xoxo Curvy Cannabis Cat
  5. 5 points
    datguy

    Kate Perry

    I would normally agree with you, but Katy Perry has been suspected of being pregnant a number of times over the years. Her belly normally pooches out a little anyway (I don't think I've ever actually seen her with a totally flat, fit stomach), and on top of that she seems to bloat often, which is a pretty hot combo for folks like us. 😁 Here's some previous "pregnancies" from the last few years (side note, you can really see how much thicker/curvaceous she is these days):
  6. 5 points
    Papercut

    Brianna K. from CNN

    Brianna has not lost any weight. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2CYBT07f0b8
  7. 4 points
    Shots from the upcoming clip, stay tuned today! I am also pleased to announce a new sale offer, lasting 72 hours and offering 30% discount on the clip below! Enjoy my belly getting filthy with whipped cream at the garden, there are quite some surprises hidden in the video, go find them out! 🍑 Remember that the dividends I earn on every sale go straight to my tummy! 😛 [30% Discount] Flabby Belly Gets Creamed Outside PRICE: $10.99 $7.69! (Expires on Tuesday, August 27th @ 23:59) It's a sunny day and Nicole wants to exhibit her belly on the garden, she has made herself a strawberry dessert for this ocassion, would you like to see her belly getting stained with the whipped cream? Would you like to see her fat ass progress as well? Then come and watch it! 🐷 🍑 Buy It Now!
  8. 4 points
    Avataг

    Kelly Brook

  9. 4 points
    Sorry for the wait, guys! Have you ever fantasized about that skinny ex girlfriend that you always wanted to be fat?? You would try to get her to let loose every now and then, but even if she managed to pack on a couple pounds she’d immediately lose them. Maybe she was a workout freak, maybe she just had a fast metabolism... But now, you’ve run into her again. And holy fuck — she’s gotten fat as fuck. She knows it’s something you’ve always secretly wanted and she sees your eyes glancing down towards her soft, round belly peaking out of her shirt. Actually, let’s be honest. That stretch marked covered gut is on full display and it’s like she doesn’t even care! Lots of Belly Play, belly and weight gain talk, and even a little mutual gaining talk. Check Out Your Ex’s Huge Weight Gain and Enjoy as she Playfully Teases You with her Soft Belly
  10. 4 points
    My new video Burger Queen are on now, get it untill its HOT!! BURGER QUEEN!!!
  11. 4 points
    A typical lounging around outfit, I’m not a huge fan of clothes if you can’t tell 😬
  12. 4 points
    Feeder96

    Jennifer Love Hewitt

    B/A 😍
  13. 3 points
    BBW_Summer

    😛

    😛
  14. 3 points
    MY NEW VIDEO IS NOW UP IN THE STORE !!! I love this video I love my oiled belly
  15. 3 points
    Mamahorker

    Miss me?

    Miss me?
  16. 2 points
    Jane Café

    Sabrina Carpenter

    not much, but hey! she’s eating good!
  17. 2 points
    robby84263

    Janine Pink

  18. 2 points
    BBW_Summer

    Belly 😛

    Belly 😛
  19. 2 points
    ello11

    Demi Lovato

  20. 2 points
    SKFHh

    Taylor Swift

  21. 2 points
    Another public stuffing clip in the works! ☺️ Meanwhile, don't forget there's less than 24 hours left on the offer below, you can't miss it! 😛 Hello! I am pleased to announce the next sale offer, remember that the revenue from all sales contribute to making my tummy and booty bigger! 🍑 Get this belly clip at 30% discount until Friday (72 hrs SALE!), check it out now: 🤤 [30% Discount] Fatty Glutton Swallows a Taco in her Feeder's Car PRICE: $7.99 $5.59! (Expires on: Friday, August 23rd @ 23:59 GMT) Nicole has a new feeder, she just took her to a Taco Bell... Wanna' watch as she is filmed eating in the car? Stay tuned for future clips! Buy It Now!
  22. 2 points
    Just because I haven't been posting as much as I used to, doesn't mean I haven't stopped stuffing my face... Just a few weeks ago I reached one of my personal goals, I am now a UK size 14! Before I decided to start gaining, I was a tiny size 8! So here are a few pics to show you how I'm looking these days ❤️ Red Rapunzel xo
  23. 2 points
    Just to give you an idea of how long it takes to publish con photos after the fact, these 2018 Kcon pics of Lauren just dropped this week, and the con took place 9 months ago:
  24. 1 point
    https://www.instagram.com/jewlieah/
  25. 1 point
    I hope you like this stuffing photoset, I stuff and pose and play with my fat ass...in each shot there’s something sexy waiting for you 🐷🐷 enjoy !! 🥰

    $7.99

  26. 1 point
    swahilimonkfish

    Hunger Kills

    This chapter was supposed to be the exhale after the previous one's inhale. Slower pace, more introspective, and hopefully filling out the character and the world a bit more. WARNING though, it's dark in themes. Inspired by The Road, it is bleak and cruel. *-*-*-*-*-*-* Chapter 2 – Family kills 4 months ago “I’d love to help out dad, but I can’t. I’ve got to revise, sorry. I’ve got my final exams coming up” Alisha said to her father, not looking from the scraggles of notes that she was adding to, as she began her painstaking method of re-writing every textbook into her own words to help her remember the contents. She never read books to revise. Always, always, always her own hand-written notes. It was her golden rule. It was her system. And she had to have faith in the system. “Tell me again, Ali, why did I pay to put you through university to study accountancy if, three years later you’re still doing exams to become an accountant?” her dad chuckled, considering himself to be funny. “Oh come on, you know you only wind her up when you say that” Alisha’s mother scolded the father for his tired jokes. “But she’s still working for an accountancy firm, she’s got the degree, I don’t see what’s so important about these exams?” her dad stood his ground, feigning ignorance to get under his daughter’s skin for his amusement. “Because, if I pass this, I am an officially qualified accountant. Not a part-qualified accountant, not an accountant-in-waiting, not a trainee accountant, but an actual ACCA accredited accountant. It’s a big deal dad” Alisha stressed, not looking up but scrambling yet more notes down to reiterate ideas in her head. Accountancy standards and regulations, over and over again. “Oh relax girl, you’ll be fine. My daughter will kick butt in this exam, like she always does. I’m proud of you girl, I’ll always be proud of you.” her dad said, his face softening as he told her. “Hey, have all of you seen what’s happening on the telly? The news? It looks well sick” Alisha’s younger brother said whilst leaning on the bannister from the stairs, clearly having just scrambled down. Back to the current day I stayed still. As the stampede of grotesquerie left me alone and safe, I stayed still. Afraid to move. Breath still ragged. Hey. Focus. Remember your breathing. And in. And out. You know this. Stay focused. Stay with it. You’re safe now. You’re safe. And in. And out. Relax girl, you’ll be fine. I looked around to see the mess that They left behind. The work surfaces were obliterated as if by hand grenade by Their terrifying entrance, the linoleum that they had stampeded upon were sticky wet, but also dented beneath the bulk of each lumbering step. The hanging light fitting had been ripped from the ceiling as the indistinguishable crest of their mulched mass grazed the ceiling and took the light with it. Smashed crockery littered the floor like a wasteland of fallen soldiers. And even the sink behind me, where I had huddled into a ball fearing the worst, had been crushed as if by wrecking ball. If there was still water in the pipe, it would have been spurting over me. Whatever They were, all I knew is that They were unstoppable. And it smelled so bad. Reeked. That was Their calling card. The distinctive aroma of Beelzebub’s arsehole after curry night. Over the months, you get inured to it, to a degree. It must burn off the hairs in your nose or something. But, fuck, it was so bad right now. With three of them in such tight confines, with one of them little encasing me, the putrid fumes made me want to heave as much as my first encounter. Of course, I couldn’t puke. That would make my stomach empty. And that would be the end of me. I looked at my watch, now visible in the daylight without the parasol of Their mouth drowning out light. 1.32pm. Shit. They’ll be back soon at this rate. Those Oreos won’t spare me for long. I pulled myself up, each joint aching from the tightly tensed position that I had held for so long. For nearly three hours. No wonder I ached. I looked around, immediately on the prowl for more food. If they left behind the Oreos, then what else might they have left behind. There were very few doors on cupboards now, given how the lack of deftness that They possessed when they crashed into here, and I could see fairly quickly that this wasn’t to be a treasure trove of food. There was a pack of fig rolls though, in one of the top cupboards, so I grabbed that as I looked around the place. I opened the packet and started eating them as I walked around to see if I could work out what happened here. Before everything went Pete Tong. I stepped into the living area, hoping, I dunno, maybe for another stash of food. Maybe some indication of where they might have some. It was a long shot, but I needed to calm down after what just happened. And I needed to show my respects to the household that saved my life. That was a rule. That was the system by which I lived. Show respect to those that save your life. And whoever it was that lived here, by leaving some stray packs of biscuits in the kitchen, saved my fucking life. So I show respect. I trust my system. I follow my rules. Looking around, chewing on another fig roll as I did, I can see that the house is not as cluttered as most abandoned properties. There’s a show home feel about the sparsity around the place. No photos on tables, no paintings on walls, no half-completed jigsaws or loads of washing mid-cycle. It didn’t look like life just stopped here, like it did in so many places. It looked neatly put away. Tidied up. Like the people that lived here had moved out. Back when it first went to shit, loads did. Too much 28 Days Later, too much The Walking Dead, people left the cities and built-up areas and headed for the countryside. Figuring it was safer out there. Live that off-the-grid life, I guess. Hunt your own food, catch your own fish. And stay away from populous areas. And maybe it worked. I dunno. Maybe there are loads of people out there camping out in cottages and bothies, and pretending their living their cabin-in-the-woods fantasy. But my guess is that they’re as dead as everyone else. Sure, there would be fewer of Them, since They tended to congregate where They thought They were most likely to sense hunger. But there were just so many of Them. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere was removed. Nowhere was off Their grid. No matter where you were, no matter how remotely you resided, your hunger was a dinner bell and They would travel any distance to answer it. Which is why I stayed in the city, where at least there was food. I went from the living room to the dining room. It was a nice property for somewhere so central to the city. A three or four bedroom detached place. Decent sized rooms. External garage. Must have been a comfortably off family. Not so well off as to do something about the wallpaper though. Wallpaper that stopped being fashionable in the 70’s. I mean, who has wallpaper any more, anyway? I pop another fig roll in my mouth as I wonder. And it’s looking at the walls, that I notice it. The weathered wallpaper, faded with decades of sunlight, had square marks on the wall. Square marks where the sun hadn’t eroded and stained the brown wallpaper. Something must have been on these walls, and for a long time too. But not any more. Paintings perhaps. But pictures more likely. Looking at the décor, an old couple must have lived here. Presumably they’ll have had kids. Maybe grandkids too. And hung pictures of them on the wall, bless them. Proudly. You can almost imagine them pointing to them every time a guest came into their place, and saying how it was their son or daughter. I pictured photos of their wedding day, or maybe photos with their kids. The grandkids. First day at school. That kind of thing. And now they had been taken down. And now I’m beginning to get an idea what happened here. You see, there was more than one reason for leaving your property. Beyond eloping to the countryside and praying that They were allergic to rural air. Others left to meet up with the rest of their family. Parents moved in with their kids, that kinda thing. Consolidated their resources. Ganged up. They bordered up their windows, barricaded their doors and intended to withstand the environment like it was a storm. They would congregate together, tightly, desperately. And then they would die. Because everyone did. Everyone died. But, most of all, groups of people died. Families died. Because more mouths meant you needed more food. And eventually that would catch with you. And then They would catch up with you too. Hence the golden rule. More important than all the others. Stay away from other people. Nothing good ever comes from other people. That’s what I reckoned happened here. Granparents moving in with the kids, and maybe the grandchildren too. All under one roof. The son, no, the son-in-law. It was his idea. He thought he could be the man. Protect them. He knew DIY. He could fix up cars. Of course he could single-handedly hold back the personification of an unstoppable force. He was the man. And the grandparents, well, they trusted him. Well, he looked after their daughter so well. So they moved in. Plus they’d be with the grandkids, and they loved to see them. And then, sure enough, food runs out, They come in, and the family gets savaged like vultures at a wilderbeest’s carcass. I dunno why I got so upset, thinking about this. Must be a sore spot I guess. I tried not to think about it. About family. Not a path I want my mind to go down. Family feels a long time ago and a long way away, right now. There’s a mirror in the dining room, a big black-rimmed thing hung up on the wall, about the size a large telly. And I don’t even realise I’m doing it, but I’m looking at myself in it. Staring at the face of a girl who had devoted her life to trying to becoming something that would make her parents proud. An accountant, of all things. Oh, they loved the idea of me being an accountant. A profession. It seemed venerable. Something they could show off, talk to the neighbours about with pride. My dad always said that “robots will wipe out most jobs in the end, but the world will always need accountants”. Truthfully, with accountancy packages these days, that was actually far from true, but I never felt a need to correct him. The eyes of that girl were different to the ones staring at the mirror now. Or maybe they’re not. I dunno. Maybe I’m projecting. Super-imposing my emotions onto what I can see. But they don’t look the same, I swear they don’t. They look… I’m not sure, like heavier maybe? No, that’s not right. Wearier perhaps. Are these the eyes of a girl who’s seen shit? Who’s done shit? Who’s soul has fallen down a well and won’t ever be able to climb back out again? I don’t care if I’m projecting or not, all I know is that it sure feels like they are. Looking at the rest of me, I’m reminded that I used to be such a pretty thing. Again, I probably still am. I mean, it’s still the same face, isn’t it? The same wide eyes, same big and dark eyebrows, same slightly-off-centre nose, but off-centre in an endearing and charming way and not a late-era Picasso way. Cheekbones are still there, though the ridges seem to blend in to the background a little more. My jawline, previously sharp enough to cut diamond, seems a little pointed. I must have still been pretty, I just didn’t feel it. I felt tired. Heavy. Heavy with guilt. Heavy with exhaustion. And heavy with food. I guess that’s the consequence of needing to never feel hungry. Because, before this all happened, I often felt hungry. I would sometimes take a weird pride in being able to soldier on through a day despite being hungry. There’s a point, a point after being hungry where your stomach takes the hint and stops protesting so loudly. And the hunger goes again. That would happen a lot. When I was at work, I would forget I was hungry. I wouldn’t listen to those neurons. To busy scraping away at a never-ending pile of work hoping that one day Sisyphus would get his boulder up that mountain and I would get on top of my work. For a number of reasons, fashion, life, work, I was often hungry. I was thin, and I was thin because I spent most of my time hungry. And now I don’t. Now I can’t. And it’s starting to tell. I don’t look in the mirror to see the rest of me. Looking into my eyes is hard enough, but looking at my body is too much. I don’t mean that in a shallow way. I’m not arguing that it’s a shame I’m not catwalk ready during this post-apocalypse or whatever this is. It’s just another reminder, a very pointed reminder, of how much I have changed these past four months. How I’m not the person I was. And I don’t want to be reminded of that. I block it out of my mind as I put another fig roll in my mouth. So I turn around and figure that it’s time to move on. From this property, from this fictional backstory, from the memories and thoughts and shame and guilt. Just move onto the next thing. That was the system. Trust the system. Follow the rules. And just move onto the next thing. And just as I turned around to leave, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A piece of paper. And I immediately knew that I was, for the first time since… let’s not go there. But, for the first time since then, I was about to break my own rules. Abuse my own system. And not move on. I felt heaviness at the back of my throat and my face tensed as I picked the paper up to read it. It was a note. But it wasn’t instructions. It wasn’t an if-you-find-this type note. It was the worst type of note in the world. The last type of note you would ever want to come across. I put it down as soon as I realised and began my breathing exercises. And in. And out again. And then in. And then out again. I could feel my face scrunching up. I could feel my bottom lip wavering. I could my heavy, dark eyebrows angling. And I could feel my eyes moistening. And in. And out again. It was a suicide note. There was a third reason why buildings were vacant. And that was that the inhabitants were dead. Most of them were killed by Them. They rarely left a trace when they did. No carcass remains, no blood even. Just the cumbersome clumsiness of Their size bashing into walls and knocking down shelving. Sometimes though, people were killed by other people. I know, I know, that all seems a bit Lord of the Flies, but it’s true. First year at university, we learnt about Thomas Hobbes in a module about business management. Apparently, Thomas Hobbes argued that, in the state of nature, a world without government, that would lead the life of a man to be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”. I remember writing up that passage of his Leviathan, figuring a direct quote would look good in my essay. And “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short” seems to describe life after Them pretty well. Turns out, maybe he was right after all. So most of them were killed by Them, some of them were killed us. And occasionally, they were killed by themselves. They couldn’t stand the horror of it all. They felt suffocated by this smog of darkness that They seemed to summon in all of us. Others couldn’t stand the fear. It sounds strange, given that what they feared was death, but they hated that dread so much that they decided to opt out early. And the worst thing of all was that it was a good thing. I remember not wanting to feel grateful, but deep down feeling grateful. Because it was one less mouth to feed. One less person for resources to be allocated to. It seemed so cold when put into words, I mean this isn’t accounting. And yet, I remember trying to repress feelings of relief that my survival chances were marginally increased because of their entire universes being taken. The note was short. And heartfelt. It was all apologies and gratitude. Sorry for leaving, but so grateful for the time that they had. Instructions to look after the grandchildren “no matter what”, so I guess I was right about that. And “no matter what” felt loaded. Like they were saying, if you need one less mouth to feed, make it your own. And then the explanation of why. Because they didn’t want one to die and one to be left behind. They were a married couple it seems, and they wanted to go together. Not what I guessed at all. And yet, I got it. I understood that. Seeing a family member die like that is the sort of thing that stains your insides and scars the tissue on the underside of your brain. It’s a cancer metastasising in your soul. Watching someone you love die is a pain far worse than death. That’s why you would always give anything to swap places. Or, at least most people do. And as painful as that is to read, worse still is the hand prints in the corner of the paper. And the tears that blotched the ink that had written. The poor person writing it, pouring the soul out onto this scratty piece of paper, crying as they did. Or not. Or wait. Hang on. What if those tears were from the person who had read it? The person it was intended for? I mean, it would explain why all the paintings had been taken down. The son had come back, seen the note, cried, and then taken the photos as mementos. Maybe the pictures on the wall were family photos, of them all together and he took them down to remind him of his parents. Took them with him. After their suicide. God, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Fuck, the smell. Those gasping fumes that I blamed on Them. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t Them at all. It was them. Those wafts of dead air, maggoted and festering, weren’t just the acrid aromas of Them, but the long deceased grandparents who had hunkered down here and couldn’t bear the worst of it happening in a world that’s just toppled over into shit and asked us to wade in it forevermore. I wonder if the son realised that too. I wonder if he walked up the stairs in horror and trepidation like I am, his stomach curdling at the smell and his chest braying at the trauma like mine is. He would have known straight away which room to enter. I just had to guess from the smell. This way. The air smells more foul here. A person always trusts their nose. Their bedroom door creaks open and I look in, and the rancid fumes hit me like a fireball as I open the door. And my eyes immediately spy, silhouetted in the sharp mid-afternoon light, the kind of image that you never shake. Nooses. Two nooses gently swaying in the light breeze of an opened window. And below them, a collapsed pile of black porridge hanging onto the skeletal remains of an old couple who couldn’t cope with the darkness outside. I closed the door immediately. And suddenly my chest felt suffocated, and oxygen felt sparse. It felt like their just wasn’t a wide enough airway down my throat. My lungs expanding and contracting heavily and often as I wheeze for a breath I cannot seem to catch. My eyes are slaloming in their socket, oiled up and unable to grip. No. You know the drill Alisha. Remember your breathing exercises. Focus on your breathing. Control your breathing. And in and out and in and out. And slow it down. And in. And hold it. And out. Deep breaths. Not shallow and fast. And in. And out. There we go. Come on. And in. And out. I walk down, my hand still trembling as it rests on the bannister. And in. And out. And then I sit back down at the bottom of the stairs and just cry. Crying with the image scratched into my brain of what were once people so terrified of the world that they became that. So terrified of the world that they let their son see that they’d become that. Sometimes everything would just get too much. In a previous life, before the sky fall and the locusts came or whatever this bizarre world has now become, this would be the kind of trauma that would need a lifetime of therapy. But in this helter-skelter hellscape, it’s just a Tuesday. Just another day, just another opportunity to have your innards yanked from beneath you. An experience so near-death that I could smell the grim reaper’s breath, followed by walking in on a group suicide. I’m surprised I’m not inured to it, not numb to it. But each body blow bruises like the previous, just another shade of people heaped upon the last. I drag myself back into that dining room. Back in front of that mirror. I want to see the bruises. I want to see cost of this life. Cos it hurts like hell but one day I worry that it won’t. That I will finally numb to the blades of this new world. I stand as tall as I can in front of the mirror, to get as much of me as I can muster in the reflection. This mirror, it’s my Dorian Gray’s Portrait. It carries my sin for me. It carries all the ugliness. Not just in the eyes, incandescent with pain. But all of me. A girl who hasn’t been hungry in four months. I used to be thin. I play it down with false modesty. I pretended I didn’t try to be thin. But I did. I tried so hard. Not through exercise, nothing as flashy as that. I wanted it to seem accidental. Beautiful and attractive, with a figure to die for? Moi? So I just never ate, and pretended I never wanted to. I lied about it so easily, I started believing it. I’d tell people I was “just not a big eater” and believe it. It was, for so long, my darkest secret. Now, I realise it doesn’t even qualify as dark, but for so long I lied to myself and others and swore blind I couldn’t eat another thing when my stomach was convulsing in hunger. People would always tell me I was pretty. It was always in a “I think you need to hear this” way. Like it was preceded by a silent ‘actually’. A low-key pretty, always dressed down so never to be beautiful. People told me I was pretty because they thought it needed saying. Because it wasn’t obvious. In the same way that, at some point, if something is universally underrated, is it still underrated? It had become obvious that I was pretty, but not in an obvious way. Maybe it was a little less obvious now. I was 5ft4 and 103lbs, now I’m still 5ft4, but I’m 129lbs. The clothes I wear were bought for a girl that could get lost in childrenswear, but now I can feel the tightness of my hoodie across my chest and on my arms, and see the shortness of the fabric that leads to my stomach slipping out so slightly beneath. Material taken up by a food baby that never seems to come to term, but merely incubates further instead. My upper body just feels… tarnished I guess. Is that the word for it? Blemished? Damaged? Scarred? Yeah, scarred. This is how I carry my scars. I can’t see lower down on me in the mirror, but my thighs skim the other now too. Another casualty in this battle for survival. And there could be real horror to the realisation that this is never going to end. That I will never be able to diet this away and shift them pounds. That getting hungrier quicker means eating more means getting bigger means getting hungrier quicker means eating more and so on and so on on this nightmarish carousel. This upward spiral. But the weight doesn’t look like horror, it just looks like consequence to me. It bears the brunt of it so I don’t have to. That’s how it has to be. It’s my Dorian Gray’s portrait. It’s my penance. It’s the price for survival. I guess, I want survival to hurt. It should hurt, shouldn’t it? I shouldn’t get away with what I did, should I? I deserve to be haunted by it through crippling pain. I deserve every concoction of agony and strife that life can hurl at me. But, short of that, I guess weight gain will do. I’m still not fat. In another life, in another world, I’m an accountant who’s put on a few but still knows how to work it. My hair’s been straightened, no curled actually, that looks better, and my make-up’s been applied. My skirt’s long enough to be professional and short enough to be alluring. And I work it. And I look good. But this isn’t that world, and looking good requires me to give one more fuck than I have in my locker. My hair’s up in a messy bun, and my clothes haven’t fitted for the past 15lbs. It’s survival. And that’s all anything is now. I turn to leave the place, my breath restored and my pack of fig rolls nearly empty. I put the last two in my mouth and think only of the time it buys me. I chew and even try to enjoy the flavour a little. And then it’s on to the next house, with its story inside. With its tragedy written in the décor and on the walls. And then the next one. Scavenging for food like a raccoon in a bin. Because this is life now. High in calories, low in morale and the only thing worse than it is the absence of it. Haha! Just as I’m about to leave, stashed behind the radiator, obscured by a door that’s clinging on to its hinges as desperately as I’m clinging on to life, is a can of baked beans. A miniature jackpot, that will actually fill for a reasonable period of time. I guess I was right about that guilty thought I had earlier. I’m glad that old couple killed themselves. Fewer mouths to feed, more for the rest of us. More for me. And I’ll let my body pay the toll on that guilty thought. This can of beans should see me to tomorrow hopefully, and I can start this whole fig roll rigmarole again.
  27. 1 point
    Residentsteven

    Kitty vs Stairs

    Wow kitty what a view 😍🍑 this vid really does show of kitty’s gain, she gets very out of breath walking up the stairs I can only imagine how much more hotter 🥵 this will get when you are 400 pounds 😍 you will need to get an escalator installed 😂 by then.
  28. 1 point
    barrywhite

    Lucy Collett (Page 3 Girl)

    Pics about 2 years old
  29. 1 point
    Only 2 my hours before my 50% of sale ends get on it
  30. 1 point
    Luv4pears

    Bebe Rexha

    Are these pictures"real?"
  31. 1 point
    NikeLove1986

    where can I find this video?

    Awww... that sucks why doesn't do like u enough to accept it
  32. 1 point
    Don't let the cat ears fool you, I came here to make a pig of myself. I ate so much food this weekend. Watch me enjoy my after-lunch dessert: vanilla cake 🍰 and whole milk. 🥛 I like the contrast between dressing cute, lily white lingerie and chowing down like a hog at a trough.

    $5.98

  33. 1 point
    MarshallT

    BBW Gender transitioning

    Good to know I always have the option to suddenly become female if I ever decide I feel like I've been one my whole life...to think i used to be stuck thinking there were only two genders and that I was born either one or the other. Thanks modern day science and ideas....you've open my eyes to so many possibilities and wonders I never knew existed because I was so narrow minded!
  34. 1 point
    vilecoyote

    Latecia Thomas

  35. 1 point
    adecourv

    Sophie Hall

    Oh my God, another video of her perfect ass jiggling. What's the English equivalent of Homer drooling?
  36. 1 point
    chubchublover

    Taylor Swift

    This is delicious.
  37. 1 point
    Same set, fatter model ☺️☺️☺️ Thank you for all your support, I’m sure it’s clear where it’s been going 😳
  38. 1 point
    I can’t believe how little I used to be! I can’t wait till I can say that about my current picture. 😉
  39. 1 point
    Good Morning💋💋 Check out this video of me this morning, showing my big fat belly some love! Watch me as I grab, spank, squish and roll around on my bed. This belly needs to be filled up, it's so empty and squishy. Someone help me make it hard and bloated !!!

    $2.50

  40. 1 point
    lovelymeow555

    Hayley Mcqueen

    I've got the recording of todays broadcast but it's going to be a little while before I can edit it - this photo was taken by the male co-anchor seen in the photo with the caption "Last shift with this one for a while! 😢 #mumtobe @mcqueenhayley #goodluck xxx" so we might not have many chances to see her on Sky Sports News before she's off for a year on maternity leave like Legend84 has said.
  41. 1 point
    🐷🍭🍩🧁🍫 I wish someone would come fill me up with more snacks !! I'm starving. Would you come put snacks in this belly? ♡
  42. 1 point
    There’s only 9 days left before my birthday and I’ve already started treating myself to lots of treats, I can’t wait to do a BIG BIRTHDAY stuffing 🎂
  43. 1 point
    Legend84

    Hayley Mcqueen

  44. 1 point
    Watch me model a thong and nothing else as I show you almost all of my body and how much of struggle it is to have so much fat hanging off of my body all the time! My belly is getting rounder and rounder as my tits are too big for my hands to hold. You can see me struggle with the amount of fat on my body... but that won't stop me from stuffing myself everyday!

    $7.29

  45. 1 point
    scotishjoker1

    Female wrestlers

  46. 1 point
    berserker1

    Paul's Dilemma

    Chapter 5- The Elephant in the Room Something was missing. Emma could just plain feel it. She let out a depressing sigh while continuing to endure her self-imposed predicament. Lifting up the pajama shirt she’d borrowed from Claire, Emma allowed her hands to caress her bloated stomach. The night was still young, and yet she already felt like she’d swallowed a bowling ball. Normally, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim, and nearly anchored to her bed by her impressively rounded belly, stirred an exuberant excitement within her. The same kind of excitement she’d gotten in high school from underaged drinking, or the naughty thrill she’d gotten in college from skipping out on class to sleep with her ex. However tonight, for some reason, she felt unsatisfied. The idea of breaking the rules always appealed to her. The bigger the rule, the bigger the appeal. Maybe that was why she’d been getting off to this feedee stuff so hard recently. She enjoyed indulging her hefty appetite and savoring her food, but it was packing pounds onto her once trim figure that really tickled her fancy. Letting herself go and turning into a sexy fat piggy had all but consumed her thoughts recently. However, she didn’t actually know what she liked best about growing so deliciously plump. The rapid growth of her lusciously thick body was almost a reward in and of itself. She’d gotten used to ignoring the sirens of insecurity that would blare in the back of her mind when she struggled to fit into a formerly flattering article of clothing. In fact, the part of her mind that used to enforce such propriety and cause her to feel an inner embarrassment for her gluttonous behavior now only seemed to fuel her unnatural attraction to her blubbery expansion. In the two weeks since she’d received her new drawing from Paul, her mind had again been captured by the fat goddess staring back at her. Paul guessed he’d drawn her at about 220lbs, but to Emma’s eyes it looked much bigger, and much better than before. She was just about 40 pounds away from becoming the girl in his drawing thanks to the ten additional pounds she was able to accumulate over her furious binge eating sessions over the last two weeks. She liked to imagine what it would feel like to be that big. Getting that fat was the biggest middle finger she could imagine giving to society’s conventional norms of beauty. It was the ultimate rule to break. To become undesirable to most, yet completely irresistible to a select few. When she started dating again, her mind lusted to know how boys would treat her now that she was bigger and better than ever before. Would a potential new boyfriend tease her for turning into such a fat piggy? How would sex feel? What would it be like to fall into bed, climb her soft body on top of a guy, rub her stomach like the girls from the feedee videos, and begin using her weight to her advantage? What would it feel like for someone to grab the pudgy layer of fat she now had below her hips during sex?? Would she moan in pleasure as her lovely new bedfellow groped each new slab of expanded flesh across her body??? “Fuck..” Emma moaned, as she grew attentive to the fact her hand had sneakily slid across her full belly and nestled its way beneath her panties. She’d found what she’d been missing. Surrendering herself to her degenerate imagination, Emma let her sultry daydream take her to a place she was keen to visit again.. and again.. and again.. … Later that night, Emma’s orgasm infused food coma was interrupted by the obvious sound of shoes meandering their way up the steps of the apartment building. She knew from their familiar and slow pattern that it was Paul and Claire. The lovebirds liked to finish whatever conversation they were having before entering the apartment, so they took their grand old time getting up the stairs. Emma assumed this was because they were talking about her, but she didn’t want to come off as paranoid, so she never brought it up. However, that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about what her sister and Paul had been up to. The time was nearly 11’oclock. The lovebirds were never out this late on a school night. As Emma heard the keys beginning to turn in the apartment’s main door, she rolled herself off of her bed and waddled from her bedroom to the couch in the living room. It appeared someone was fumbling with the keys because Emma had time to turn the tv on and appear casual on the couch before the couple could enter. Once they did, they didn’t appear surprised to see her. “Well look who’s finally back.” Emma proclaimed, as she gave the two an inquisitive look. Paul and Claire couldn’t help but return the favor. They could each see that Emma was wearing a tank-top styled pajama shirt, Paul keenly noticed the garment looked particularly stretched around Emma’s round gut. Her lower body was covered in a blanket, but before Paul could observe further, Emma raised her voice again, “Where have you two been all day?” “Careful Sisss,” Claire slurred sounding tipsy, “keep talking like that and it might sound like you actually misssed us.” “I did miss you guys. It’s lonely here all alone.” Emma protested, as she watched her sister slyly slink away from Paul’s side. Ignoring Emma completely, Claire walked past the couch into the bathroom. Pausing before closing the door, she checked to make sure she was out of Emma’s vision before making eye contact with Paul. Turning her butt toward him and running her hands across her ass’s cheeks, Claire flirtatiously uttered, “I’m going to freshen up babee, meet you in bed okay??” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Paul smiled, as Claire closed the bathroom door. He could hardly contain his excitement for what was to come tonight. “I’m guessing you two weren’t at the grocery store. Is Claire drunk?” Emma questioned, as she rested her attention on Paul and noticed he seemed to be carrying a leftover bag from some Italian restaurant. “Sorry, we got dinner after sightseeing. She’s definitely tipsy.” Paul explained, as he went to the fridge to put away the bag of leftovers, “Why? Are you hungry?” “*Burp!* Starving.” Emma belched, as Paul’s eyes couldn’t resist forcing his head to turn and stare at Emma proudly patting her noticeably pudgy stomach. Losing his words because of how cute Emma looked with such a well-fed belly, he barely was able to refocus his attention until Emma started talking again, “How did you convince miss diet diva to eat out?” “It’s my birthday.” Paul frankly shrugged, as he took out two Styrofoam boxes from the bag and reluctantly turned away from Emma to place them in the fridge. “Oh!” Emma chirped in surprise, as she forced herself up from the couch and headed over to inspect what Paul had brought home. In truth, she was a bit surprised she’d forgotten Paul’s birthday, Claire had to have mentioned it to her at some point. However, her main concern was with her stomach. It had been a few hours since she’d eaten anything and in that time her tummy had settled a bit. She wondered if she could snag the leftovers, but she wasn’t sure of the best way to ask. So, she tapped Paul on the shoulder, as he finished closing the fridge, and inquired, “How’d the birthday dinner go?” “Umm! Pretty well.” Paul muttered a bit surprised Emma had so suddenly invaded his personal space. He was quick to notice Emma’s shirt had ridden up, exposing her jiggly belly, and that she was only wearing her panties. The tiny fabric of the garment looked painfully stretched across Emma’s enlarged lower body. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen Emma wearing such revealing clothing, but she hadn’t been this fat the last time.. Trying not to give his interest away, Paul pointed at her undersized shirt and asked, “Hey isn’t that Claire’s?” “Yeah. I needed something that fit.” Emma justified, while a rumble in her stomach forced her to ask about the food Paul had just placed in the fridge, “So.. Whatcha bring home?” “Dessert.” Paul promptly answered. Emma could sense a certain sadness in his voice, but she was more excited by the prospect of eating something sweet. “Miss fitness fanatic couldn’t finish it?” Emma teased, as she noted Paul’s face reflected a distaste for her comment. “Didn’t even touch it.” Paul sighed sounding a little upset. “Why’d she order it then?” Emma wondered, as she scratched her head. “She didn’t. I ordered it when she was in the bathroom, as a little surprise.” Paul regretfully revealed, “She didn’t want any of it.” “That’s a shame.” Emma patted Paul on the back in a consoling motion before utterly revealing her intensions, “Can I have it?” “Sure.” Paul shrugged, as Emma gleefully nudged Paul out of the way with her hips, leaned herself downward into the fridge, and started grabbing the styrofoam boxes. Paul hadn’t been ready for how much leverage Emma levied his way and had to quickly regain his footing. Emma felt heavy. He wondered.. Was she finally heavier than Claire? While he watched Emma’s round bum tilt from side to side as she tried to free the cheesecake from the fridge, he mentally tried to pinpoint her current weight. While her stomach and chest had borne the brunt of her gain, her whole body had softened, Emma was even sporting a much fuller ass than he remembered. If she kept putting on weight, it was only a matter of time before her meaty booty would outsize Claire’s in sheer volume. “You didn’t eat yours either?” Emma asked out of concern, as she emerged from the fridge with both take-home boxes. Something didn’t feel right. It made sense why Claire would pass on dessert, but it was Paul’s birthday, why hadn’t he had any cake? “Claire said it wouldn’t be very supportive of me to eat it when she couldn’t.” Paul elaborated, as Emma glared at the closed bathroom door in disgust. She wasn’t a huge fan of ‘drunk’ Claire. “But it’s your birthday!? That’s bullshit!” Emma announced, as she opened the container and offered it to Paul, “Here, have it. You can tell her I ate it.” “No. It’s fine. You have it.” Paul smiled, as he tried to divert his eyes from ogling Emma’s large cleavage. “You need to have at least a taste of your birthday cake!” Emma ordered, as she grabbed a fork from Paul’s drying rack, checked that it was dry, and then dug it into the dessert to offer a forkful of cheesecake to Paul. “Fine.” Paul relented. Emma was being nice, but the truth was that, in the back of his mind, he wanted to hurry the conversation along so that Emma could stuff herself with the calorie-high dessert and expand her bodyfat percentage further! He might have had to endure Claire’s refusal to overeat, but he could settle for a slobbish display of gluttony from Emma. It would be a nice consolation prize for all his frustrations. In pursuit of this little prize, Paul took his bite of cheesecake. It was a rich cake. Very filling. Very fattening. He could have enjoyed eating a little more, but he wanted to reserve the excess calories for Emma’s greedy gut. Trying to hurry her along, Paul offered, “Do you want a new fork?” “Your cooties don’t scare me Paul.” Emma declared, as she took the fork from his hand, pierced the center of the cheesecake, and slathered a big bite of the stuff down her eagerly awaiting throat. Munching with her mouth full, Emma added, “Besides, I love cheesecake.” Watching Emma start eating like such a lazy glutton was exactly the mood lifter Paul needed. His temporary glee was so encompassing that he started zoning out on Emma’s attractive display. “Did you know one piece of that cheesecake has two days’ worth of weight-watcher’s points?” Paul blurted absentmindedly, as he seriously believed this was the first time, he’d ever seen Emma use a fork. “I did not.” Emma muttered, while she stopped short of shoveling another bite into her mouth. She got a curious feeling in the pit of her big belly. It felt like nerves.. No. It felt like excitement. Her voice quivered a little bit, but she managed to ask, “So you’re saying that what I’m eating right now, for dessert, is what Claire would eat in total over the course of four days?” “In weight-watcher points, so yeah, I guess.” Paul mused, not really paying attention to any subtext he may have thrown Emma’s way. “So, you’re calling me a fatty?” Emma connected the dots, while she felt a flutter of unwanted arousal in the depths of her panties. Was Paul teasing her in the most roundabout way possible?? Considering what she knew Paul was into, teasing from him about her weight basically constituted flirting. Was he flirting with her?? “Umm.. No. I was just.. Sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Paul blushed, as he avoided eye contact. He didn’t want to draw Emma’s attention to her gain. After having to witness Claire shedding pounds like a dog with fur, he desperately didn’t want Emma’s amusing gain to stop. “It’s okayy.” Emma assured him, as she felt convinced by his response that the subtext she’d picked up on had just been her perverse imagination playing tricks on her. Paul was devoted to her sister, she knew that. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Seeing that Paul still seemed uneasy, Emma tried to calm him down as she turned away from him to take her little dessert feast to her room, “I know of all people you’re probably going to be the last person to judge me for putting on a few extra pounds.” “Just a few?” Paul almost inaudibly smirked, as the right corner of his mouth perked up, cheekily. While he hadn’t drank as much as Claire, the alcohol in his veins had mixed with the knowledge that Emma dismissed her substantial expansion as a measly ‘few extra pounds’ to produce a rather horny mood. He had already been excited for his birthday present with Claire tonight, but seeing Emma so oblivious to the changes in her body just pressed his buttons in all the right ways. “What was that? Speak up.” Emma blurted, as she turned around mid-bite into the cheesecake. She thought she’d heard another teasing remark from Paul, but at this point she wasn’t sure she could trust her senses to tell her the truth. She was secretly craving to be teased like the girls she’d witnessed in the feedee videos. It was what she wanted. She couldn’t be sure if she was hearing what she wanted to hear or what was actually being said. Surrounding herself with exciting feedee stimuli was playing hell with her assessment of this situation. “What are you gonna do?” Paul rather smoothly pretended like he was repeating himself, “Like tonight.” “Well considering it’s your birthday, I don’t want to hear whatever you and my baby sister end up doing. So, I think I’ll grab some headphones and listen to something loud for the rest of the night all byy myselff.” Emma explained, as she sent Paul a knowing look. “Oh. Makes sense.” Paul blushed, while he couldn’t help but notice how Emma lingered on the last three words of her sentence. Feeling a little concerned for her, Paul asked, “Were you really feeling lonely today?” “A bit.” Emma admitted with a hint of unaccustomed vulnerability in her loud voice, “I mean I talk to people at work, but they aren’t really my friends. I don’t really have any friends in this city.” “What about us?” Paul wondered, as he pointed toward himself and the bathroom door with his thumb. “Claire-bear’s not my friend, she’s my little sister. And you’re my little sister’s boyfriend. I think you’re a cool guy, but I’m not sure I’d consider you a friend of mine.” Emma admitted, as she continued to elaborate, “We don’t do things friends would do. We only ever hang out because we live together.” “Well we should change that.” Paul suggested feeling Emma made a good point, “How about we get lunch tomorrow?” “Fine.” Emma shrugged. She didn’t mean to offend Paul with her previous statement although she could understand how it might have come off sounding meanspirited. Maybe spending a lunch outside of Scoops Ahoy would be nice. Besides, joining Paul for a meal was the least she could do for not getting him anything for his birthday. Or was it? “Cool. Have a nice night Emma.” Paul smiled, as he took a step backward to go to his bedroom. He wanted to get there before Claire was finished in the bathroom, plus witnessing Emma’s gluttony firsthand had turned him on something fierce. “You too birthday boy.” Emma winked, as she got a hilarious thought, her voice took a devious tone, “And I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. Want me to flash you my tits real quick!?” “Ah, no thank you!” Paul nearly stumbled, as Emma’s face erupted into a delirious smile. “Hahaha, I was just kidding.” Emma giggled, “You’re so easy.” “Not funny.” Paul shook his head, as his heartrate slowly began to get under control after spiking. Just the suggestive thought of seeing Emma’s inflated fat breasts had produced a strong shift in his blood flow. “Nighty-night. Don’t let Claire-bear bite.” Emma waved, as she slowly slinked into her room with dessert in hand and winked at Paul before closing the door. “Goodnight..” Paul quietly gasped, as his eyes lingered on where Emma’s chubby gut had been. Feeling sufficiently horny, he only hoped Claire would hurry, because if she didn’t he’d have to take matters into his own hands. … One month later.. … Today was the day. Emma was sure of it. Locking herself into the bathroom with the scale she’d bought from a convenient store last night, Emma was quick to place it on the ground and hop on. It had been her mission to enlarge herself and she knew she’d been successful. She’d gone up another size for her uniform a few weeks ago and it was probably coming time to retire her current one too! She was too consistent with her eating, too diligent with her laziness, and to enthralled by the results to fail. Today was the day she broke the 200-pound barrier. She was sure of it. Looking down upon her belly, Emma could tell the bloating had subsided from her feast last night. Not only had her stomach grown softer and larger with fresh layers of fat. Her ability to process and contain food had clearly increased. It took a lot more to paralyze herself into a food coma than it once had. As before, her belly wasn’t the only part of her inclined to accumulate additional fat. Her boobs continued to expand in size, her butt was rounding out, her thighs looked meatier and her arms appeared more substantial too. Her little double chin had grown a bit fuller; her face had a rounder quality to it that she’d never had before. It was hot. She could only hope that as she looked down, the number on the scale reflected the number she imagined in her excitedly beating heart. *197lbs* “Shit..” Emma groaned to herself in disappointment. She’d been trying for the last few days to bump herself over the 200-pound barrier, but it seemed her body was stubbornly resisting her efforts. She was certain she could push herself over the limit with a full belly, but she wanted to be over 200 pounds while her stomach was empty. As Emma gleefully imagined the glory of achieving such a level of fatness, she was startled by a knock on the bathroom door. Her mind first suspected Paul, but he had already gone to the park to try and sell some artwork. That really only left one person it could be. “Can you please hurry up? I’m going to be late for class.” Claire shyly pleaded from the other side of the door. “J-Just a minute!!” Emma replied, as she tried to shake off the surprise. Thank god she’d been wearing her pajamas. Err.. well, Claire’s pajamas. Hers hadn’t fit for a long time. In fact, Emma wasn’t sure how much longer even Claire’s larger pajamas would fit at the rate she was expanding. Flushing the toilet for cover, Emma stashed the scale under the sink. Running some water and pretending to wash her hands, Emma tried to sound concerned when she finally opened the door to face her sister, “What are you still doing here?” “I slept past my alarm.” Claire regretfully admitted, as she tried to squeeze by her enlarged sister, “I stayed up late last night with Paul again..” “Oh I know. I could hear you two. You’re gonna give those lovebirds in 2b a run for their money if you keep this up.” Emma teased, as Claire couldn’t hide a serious frown. Emma’s curiosity forced her to investigate, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Claire refuted, as she tried to nudge her sister out of the doorway, but Emma wouldn’t move her chubby body one inch. “Come on. Out with it.” Emma demanded slightly amused she’d gotten so heavy that Claire couldn’t move her so easily. “I’m just stressed.” Claire wined, as she opened up, “Too much to do, not enough time.. I can’t seem to get into a good balance with school. I’m behind in most of my classes. I’ve had to ask for three extensions on papers this semester. I don’t know what to do.” “It’s obvious what you have to do. Stop being so busy and sit your butt down and work.” Emma honestly responded, as she noticed Claire didn’t seem to like what she was saying. “It’s not that easy.” Claire protested, “I want to get in shape. I want to get good grades. I want to save up money. I want to be a good girlfriend. I want..” “You can’t have everything you want! That’s not how the world works! You can’t stay up late having sex with your boyfriend every night and expect to show up to class rested and refreshed. You can’t juggle your internship, your studies, the gym, your friends, and your boyfriend and expect to excel at everything.” Emma declared to her sister, “You’re doing too much and if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna crash.” “But I can’t cut out the gym, I can’t cut class, I can’t stop showing up for my internship..” Claire argued not wanting to admit her sister had a point. She was going to continue, but before she could utter that she couldn’t let Paul down, Emma cut in. “Paul will understand if you need some extra time to get your workload under control.” Emma roared, as she tried to knock some sense into her sister’s head. “but..” Claire weakly protested. “No buts.” Emma grunted. “But..” Claire protested a little louder. “No.” Emma shook her head without remorse. “He’s just been like super horny lately.” Claire burst, as Emma’s facial expression revealed her surprise, “Maybe it’s because I’ve lost weight but having sex with him recently feels like it did when we first started dating. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, and I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna lose that passion. It’s just been, like, really really good.” “Huh.” Emma uttered in a calm disbelief. How odd. She knew Paul preferred Claire with a little more meat on her bones. And to be perfectly honest, Claire’s weight loss had been a little slow, but it had been consistent. She had to be down to around 165lbs by now. There was no way that made Paul horny. The guy that had so forcefully opened Emma’s eyes to the whole feedee fetish couldn’t be passionate about Claire slimming down. “I don’t want you to think like the sex was ever bad.” Claire added unsure of how to interpret Emma’s pause, “Paul was always wonderful at getting me to..” “I get it. Paul’s amazing.” Emma cut her off not wanting to imagine her sister and Paul doing the deed. Sidelining her confusion about Paul’s apparently horny behavior recently with her sister, Emma focused herself on telling Claire what she needed to hear, “No matter how good it is, you can’t devote all your free time to your boyfriend. It’s just not a good idea. Do your schoolwork, write your papers, do your internship, but also hang out with your friends! Go to some parties, alone. Explore. Enjoy college for all it’s worth, because it will be over before you know it. You don’t want your boyfriend to be the only thing you remember from college.” “Why not? I love Paul.” Claire innocently responded in a way that remined Emma a little too much of herself back when she was in college. “And I loved Scott!” Emma snapped, as Claire recoiled from the force of her sister’s voice. Noticing this, Emma toned her voice into something reflecting the concern she had for her sister, “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. You realize you don’t have to have sex with your boyfriend every night, right? Paul’s a cool guy, he wouldn’t be offended if you spent a few nights at your dorm to take care of your work, or if you hung out with friends more often without him.” “You think?” Claire asked innocently. “I know.” Emma assured her with a pat on the back, “You’ve got a good one. He’ll understand.” “Thanks sis.” Claire smiled, as Emma moved out of the doorway and let her have the bathroom. Appreciating her sister’s advice, Claire added, “You’re the best.” “I know. Be sure to tell Laura I’m officially your favorite sister.” Emma joked, as Claire giggled in response. Once Claire left, Emma had the apartment to herself for a short time before she had to get ready and get to work. On her short walk, Emma pondered what to eat later in the day to get herself over 200lbs and officially into serious fatty territory. Her mind mostly toyed with the idea of finally closing in on becoming the girl Paul had drawn for her, but as Paul crossed her mind, she began to think about him too. What her sister had revealed to her had been very surprising. Things didn’t add up. Emma had her suspicions, but she thought better then to give them much credence. Paul was a nice guy through and through. And she felt that in the month since his birthday they’d really gotten to know each other on a better level. The first lunch they’d shared had been a bit awkward, but with each passing week they’d schedule more and more little lunch breaks to simply hang out and talk. Paul was trying to be her friend and she’d been letting him. The way he talked about his art, and the way he listened to her stories made Emma feel much more appreciated. She wanted to forget what Claire had said to her about Paul being horny about her weight loss. Maybe there was some reason for it that Emma wasn’t seeing. Paul was a complex guy, maybe he’d face his demons and come out stronger for it. Then again, maybe it wasn’t Claire who was making him horny.. No. No.. She would not allow herself to toy with such an idea. Paul was her sister’s loyal boyfriend. Emma just knew that he certainly didn’t have any interest in her. She knew it.. but.. she couldn’t help but wonder. What would it be like to have Paul as a feeder? The way his gentle exterior had melted away into a dominant personality when he’d explained the fetish too her still haunted her dreams at night. Claire was lucky, such a guy would probably be amazing in the sack. Trying to keep her horny thoughts to herself, Emma knew she’d have her hands full during her lunch with Paul today. He was actually going to join her at Scoops Ahoy for a change. She tried hiding her curiosity once he showed up, but it was a losing battle. She was distracted. Slightly uncomfortable. And overly curious. In response, she just tried to keep her mouth shut, but even that proved abnormal enough for Paul to notice. “What’s wrong?” Paul outright asked wanting to understand Emma’s spaced-out behavior today. Normally she was so loud and animated, but today she seemed uncharacteristically quiet and reserved. They’d been talking for 25 minutes and Paul had actually gotten to share three stories without a single interruption from Emma. Any other day he might consider this a minor miracle, but today he just wanted to know if Emma was feeling okay. “Huh?” Emma muttered, as she tilted her head while she tried to pay attention. “You seem out of it today.” Paul elaborated, as he wrapped up the remains of his meal. He seriously didn’t know how Emma ate fast food for lunch every day. His stomach felt clogged with grease. “I’m just bummed my lunch break is almost over.” Emma lied, as she followed Paul’s example and wrapped up the two empty burger wrappers in front of her. They still had some cheese on them, but Emma didn’t feel like licking it off in front of Paul. “Right. You can tell me what’s really on your mind.” Paul assured her. He’d gotten much more used to Emma’s mannerisms. She couldn’t fool him into thinking nothing was wrong. “I’m just.. Okay. I’m just in a weird place.” Emma began, as she sought a better way to avoid telling Paul that her mind was on him, “I feel like something is missing.. And I think that something is.. a relationship. But.. I don’t feel like I’m ready to date..” “That is a tough place.” Paul acknowledged, as he appeared to buy what Emma was selling. “Right?” Emma sighed in relief. “Are you over your ex?” Paul wondered. “Yeah..” Emma heavily breathed. Now she was regretting bringing this up. Powering through, Emma continued, “but we dated forever. I can’t really imagine being with someone else. Yet.” “Just take your time. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Listen to your heart. Take it slow.” Paul advised, as he stood up and tossed his trash in the trash can, “If you need to ever talk about it, just let me know.” “Where are you going?” Emma inquired, as he headed toward the door. “Your lunch break is over. And I should get back to the park. People’s portraits won’t draw themselves.” Paul explained, as he pointed at his watch and waved goodbye before heading out the door. “Oh.” Emma muttered a little disappointed he was leaving so soon. At least they’d eaten at Scoops Ahoy today, she wouldn’t be late resuming her shift. Cleaning her table, Emma didn’t rush. She wasn’t that excited about working right now. There was a lot on her mind. A lot of mixed emotions. She wasn’t really ready for human interaction yet. However, once she resumed her shift the cheerful sophomore Alexia rushed over to her. “So??” Alexia chirped in an excited tone. What was she expecting a piñata? “So what?” Emma replied, as she raised an eyebrow at the tall young lady in front of her. “Is that the guy you’re always grabbing lunch with?” Alexia asked trying to see if he was still outside the front window of the restaurant. “Yeah.” Emma responded. She wouldn’t say she always got lunch with Paul, but they’d probably been having it at least four times a week now. Sometimes they’d bring food to a park. Other times they’d meet up at a pizza joint. But it wasn’t every day. “He’s cute. How long have you been dating?” Alexia wondered, as Emma nearly coughed. “Ha. We’re not dating.” Emma corrected her feeling a little embarrassed. Her cheeks actually burned a little bit. Wait, was she blushing?? She and Paul did not look like a couple, right? “Well if you play your cards right, I bet you could make it happen.” Alexia winked. The only thing that stopped Emma from blurting Paul was dating her sister was what Alexia hurriedly squealed next, “He was totally checking you out every time you took your eyes off him.” “What?” Emma nearly gasped, as her heart fluttered. “Eye fucking to the extreme.” Alexia gossiped, as Emma felt a chill down the back of her neck. “R-really?” Emma managed to question, as her breathing slightly quickened. Her hands braced against her pudgy gut, as if to try and conceal it. “Yeah. He’s not coming here for the food. That’s for sure. He must like what he sees.” Alexia smiled with an encouraging nudge to Emma’s side, “And... girl, a guy that watches you eat like that and doesn't run away...” “Hey!! Rude!! I eat like a lady!” Emma gasped in a sarcastic manner, while her hands fell to her hips. “Sure, ‘lady’ Emma.” Alexia jokingly replied before adding, “What I mean is, he’s a keeper!!” “Haha, thanks.” Emma muttered, while Alexia left her alone for a minute to clean tables. Standing there, in a near complete daze, Emma connected the dots. Paul’s horny behavior with Claire. Their ever more frequent lunches. Him.. checking her out.. Claire was getting skinny and she was getting fat. She was the reason he was so horny.. Paul liked her.. but was he secretly trying to fatten her up?! The thought was as exciting for Emma as it was troubling. The possibility of having an honest to god feeder coaching her was exciting, but not at the cost of breaking her sister’s heart and betraying her trust! She needed answers. And Paul was going to give them to her whether he wanted to or not. … That night.. … She had to wait for the right moment, but Emma was impatient so rather than wait, she decided to make the right moment. Paul didn’t suspect a thing. He was a bit bummed out that Claire had told him she wasn’t coming over so that she could catch up on some work, and like the good boyfriend he purported to be, Paul had been very supportive. So, Emma jumped at the opportunity to invite Paul to watch a movie with her on the couch. He agreed and Emma decided to set the stage for her interrogation. First, she bought some beer, a whole case. Next she bought food, plenty of snacks to share and plenty of calorie filled morsels to stuff herself with. Popcorn, nachos, pizza, donuts, the works. Then she picked her clothes. She frankly didn’t have many options. She wanted something that exposed her for the greedy pig she’d become. Something that Paul couldn’t ignore. Needless to say, Emma could spy Paul’s eyes nearly popping out of his head once he got a gander at what she’d decided to go with. A teeny skirt with a considerable amount of stretch and a flexible crop top that resembled a sports bra more so than a shirt on Emma’s engorged body. The meager article of clothing didn’t even cover her ribcage. Her belly was completely on display. Paul tried not to stare, but Emma was wise to him now. The movie started innocently enough. Emma had picked a long one. The Lord of the Rings. They didn’t talk much for the first five minutes, until Emma got an idea. She proposed a little drinking game with Paul since they had so much beer. He accepted and she laid out the rules. They had to drink a swig of their beer every time: there was a closeup of the ring, they saw the eye of Sauron, anybody said ‘ring,’ ‘precious,’ or ‘Baggins’, anytime Aragorn did something badass, anytime Legolas looked off into the distance, anytime Mary & Pippin did something cheeky or fun, anytime Gandalf got serious, anytime Gimli’s size was referenced, and anytime there was a wide shot of scenery. And to top it all off, they had to finish their drink anytime the entire fellowship was on screen at once. To say they got tipsy fast would be an understatement. It didn’t even take an hour before they’d each downed nearly 4 beers. While Paul mostly stuck to drinking along with Emma, she focused on filling her belly with all the snacks she’d placed on the coffee table. While their drinking slowed as the movie progressed, Emma’s eating did not. She munched her way through all of the popcorn. She snacked the nachos into oblivion. And the pizza didn’t stand a chance. All that remained on the coffee table by the time the first movie finally ended was a plate full of donuts. While the credits rolled, Emma decided it was time to get Paul’s attention. Forcing her hands to press against her bloated stomach, Emma felt her plan go into motion with a loud.. “*Bwarp!!* This is embarrassing, but do you mind if I unbutton my skirt? It’s feeling uncomfortable.” Emma tipsily wined, as Paul tilted to the side of the couch to get a look at how much damage Emma had done to herself over the course of the movie. He’d heard her sloppily eating nonstop. He’d wanted nothing more than to stop watching the film and to appreciate the way Emma ate, but he didn’t want to tip Emma off to his attraction. “No problem.” Paul nodded, as he couldn’t believe how full Emma’s belly had expanded. The chubby rolls of fat Emma had grown had been completely steamrolled by her belly’s expansion. It looked as if her stomach was one superbly rounded orb of fat. He watched with continued excitement as she let loose her button and her belly rush to fell the extra space. “Ugh! So much better.” Emma grunted, as she continued playing her game. Sounding innocent, Emma explained, “I don’t know why none of my clothes have been fitting right recently.” “You.. You don’t?” Paul muttered in drunken disbelief. She’d just eaten enough food for a whole village! “Yeah, do you think they shrunk in the wash?” Emma tilted her head innocently and placed both hands on the side of her bloating belly. Squeezing her fat for Paul to see, she felt the gas in her stomach being forced upward, “*Urrrpp!!*” “Umm.. you know.. you’ve..” Paul hesitated, as the liquor in his veins got the better of him, “You know you’ve put on some weight, right?” “*Bruuuup!!*” Emma belched involuntarily, as her libido felt stuck by Paul’s slurred words. This was happening. This was real. Her embarrassment at the obvious fact Paul had thrown at her only served to drive her slightly crazier, but she couldn’t let herself enjoy this. Not yet. She had a mission. So, despite wanting to indulge Paul’s comment, she played dumb, “I may have put on a…..*bwarp!* a teensy bit of weight.” “It’s a little more than that. I promise.” Paul pointed out unable to contain himself. He was hearing Emma’s belly gurgle from all that beer she’d slurped down. He wanted nothing more than to place his hand upon it and help Emma generate some more alluring burps. “Is it??” Emma gushed trying to keep up her act but secretly enjoying the attention Paul was giving her. “Don’t play dumb.” Paul accused, as he sensed the charade Emma was putting on. “Okay. So I’ve packed on a few pounds since the breakup.. I’m fresh out of a 6-year relationship so I think I’m intitled to some comfort food.” Emma argued with a pat to her drum of a belly, “*Burp!* My metabolism’s so good, once I decide to get my ass to the gym, I’ll lose it all in no time. Till then, I’m gonna keep chowing down until I feel better.” “You’re okay with being fat in the meantime?” Paul exclaimed unable to parse out what was motivating Emma’s strangely erotic behavior. “Does this belly make me look, fat?” Emma wryly smiled, as she maintained her oblivious tone. “Umm..” Paul muttered, as the sight of Emma squeezing the chub around her lower belly caused his train of thought to crash into impure territory. This was the moment Emma had been waiting for, Paul’s eyes betrayed his exotic lust. Turning on the sweet and shy charm, Emma leaned her soft body closer to him. “Come on Paul, we’re alone, you can be honest with me.” Emma softly spoke, while her hands caressed her love handles, “I still look hot right?” Looking alarmed, Paul couldn’t find anything to say. The truth was he found Emma to be hotter than ever at her current size, and she had to know it. It almost seemed like she wanted him to acknowledge that unspoken attraction. Like she was inviting him to indulge his greatest fantasy. “I’ve really lost control of my appetite, haven’t I?” Emma blurted into the void of Paul’s silence, as she feigned embarrassment. She was getting to him now. Looking vulnerable and ashamed, Emma’s voice turned seductive, “Not to mention my figure.” Paul’s eyes widened with that last remark. It was like she was casting a spell on him. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He was losing the battle. “You wouldn’t happen to like the ‘new’ me, would you?” Emma purred, as Paul’s infatuated silence spoke volumes to her. She could tell he was at her mercy now, but she wasn’t going to offer him any. “Have I been a naughty glutton?” Emma cooed finally taking her act over the top. “What are you doing?” Paul weakly demanded, while Emma placed her hand upon his upper thigh. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. You don’t think I notice when you check me out?” Emma accused in an alluring tone. Her hand gently rubbed the top of his leg while her eyes spotted clear evidence of Paul’s arousal for her. She was reluctant to outright touch it, but she had no problem getting close. “Emma I..” Paul stuttered, as he grabbed Emma’s hand and stopped her from encroaching up his thigh. “You want me, don’t you?” Emma accused more urgently, as she tried to free her hand from Paul’s grasp, but couldn’t manage it. “No..” Paul shook his head, as he tried to regain his sense. He was losing control. He could feel it. He needed to snap out of it. He wasn’t a cheater. “Claire told me you can’t keep yourself off her. That you’ve been uncontrollably horny lately. She thinks you’re excited about her weight loss, but we both know that’s not what gets you going.” Emma slowly hissed, as she brought her free hand to her heart, and brought Paul’s eyes to her chest with a swift jiggle of her boobs, “Be honest. I’m the reason you’ve been so excited lately.” “No.. That’s not it.” Paul lied unwilling to admit it to Emma or even himself. He couldn’t tell her that he occasionally.. frequently.. fantasized about her when he had sex with Claire. “You don’t find me attractive?” Emma pouted, as she struggled to wiggle herself closer to Paul with her stuffed tummy. “I do, but that’s not..” Paul struggled to respond, as he inched away on the couch. “I’ve gotten fatter than your girlfriend ever was. You can’t tell me that doesn’t excite you.” Emma voiced a bit more strongly, as her wiggle morphed into a crawl and she closed in on Paul. “I mean..” Paul muttered, as Emma got in his face. The warm skin of her soft stomach was resting against his side. “It’s time for you to do something about these feelings you have for me. Give me what I’ve been missing.” Emma seductively demanded, as she slowly wrapped her arms around Paul’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “I know you want a piece of this pork.” “Emma! Stop!” Paul yelled, as he shoved her off of him and she tumbled back onto the couch. Surprised by Paul’s show of strength and unable to lean herself upward, Emma could only watch as Paul towered over her, “Alright! I’ve noticed with some interest that you’ve let yourself go. It’s certainly motivated me to instigate more sex from Claire. But I could never betray her trust and give you what you’re asking. If you’re serious, I’m going to have to ask you to move out!” “Calm down Paul I was just testing you.” Emma revealed, as Paul’s face soured. “A test??” Paul grunted. He looked visibly upset, Emma immediately regretted taking her little interrogation so far. She’d wanted to test his loyalty to Claire, and he hadn’t let her down. She wanted things to go back to normal, but Paul’s voice kept her silent, “Why do you always do this shit with me? Do you enjoy seeing me squirm? Do you like driving me crazy?? I can’t believe you!” “Paul, please, I was just..” Emma tried to explain, as Paul authoritatively cut her off. “You fucking got fat just so you could see if I wouldn’t cheat on my girlfriend?? I told you I love Claire! Did you not believe me?? Do you not trust me just because I have a freaking fetish?? I can control myself!” Paul seethed, as Emma’s eyes widened with concern. “I know!” Emma pleaded, as she tried to squirm upward from the couch but was having some serious difficulties. “No, I don’t think you do!” Paul countered, as he applied pressure against Emma’s swollen stomach with his arm and kept her flat on her back against the couch, “If I couldn’t control my desires, I’d tie you up right now and feed you everything I could get my hands on. I’d force it all down your greedy gullet!” Emma’s heart suddenly started beating into overdrive! Paul’s threatening tone hit her where it mattered. Emma could immediately feel a wave of arousing sensation tingling throughout her helplessly softened body. Paul was in control. She was at his mercy until he snapped out of this angry persona. “The food would never stop coming! I’d stuff your belly until you burst, unless you begged me to stop.” Paul threatened, as he looked into Emma’s eyes wanting to see fear. Instead he saw something quite different. “It would be hard to *burp!* beg with all that food in my mouth.” Emma nearly moaned from the pressure Paul’s hand was putting on her belly. It felt really good. She could hardly breath, but not from the force Paul was putting on her. The way he was talking, the way he was looking at her, the words he was saying to her.. It felt like she was in one of those video’s she’d masturbated to. “Then I would fill you up until you could qualify as a thanksgiving parade float!” Paul angerly countered, as he noticed Emma convulse with a whimper. He took his hand off her thinking he’d hurt her somehow, but that wasn’t it.. “Oh my god!” Emma gasped, as she felt herself twinge with delight, “And when I’m totally fat and helpless, would you have your way with me??” “What are you doing??!” Paul yelped, as he realized Emma’s hand was lodged down the front of her skirt. Emma saw his eyes widen and couldn’t stop herself from blushing immensely. She suddenly realized it too. She’d touched herself in front of Paul.. “I-I’m.. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” “Are you.. Is this.. Did I just turn you on?” Paul stammered in confusion. “More than you could imagine.” Emma gushed wanting Paul to understand what he’d just made her feel. “You’re not pretending.” Paul muttered in disbelief. “I thought you thought my fetish was gross.” “At first, but after you explained it to me. It.. appealed to me.” Emma admitted, as she came clean. “How so?” Paul asked in astonishment. “The way you talked to me, the way you taunted me, the way you touched my belly, the way you fed me that pancake..” Emma began describing, “It was strangely exciting. And addicting. I wanted to feel that way again so, I did some research.. and that got me even more curious.. and that picture you drew of me..” “What are you saying?” Paul shook his head, as Emma felt all her breath suddenly empty her body. In an instant Emma felt like she might suffocate right there and then. And in some way, Emma felt like she did. When she desperately breathed in, she didn’t feel like herself anymore. It was like someone else was using her body. She was helpless as her next sentence flew out of her mouth. “I want to be a feedee.” Emma burst, as she powerlessly listened to what she said next, “And now that I know I can trust you’ll be true to my sister.. I want you to be my feeder.”
  47. 1 point
    In this clip Jiggly_Bum FINALLY updates you all on her measurements, and she's grown quite a bit! All of her clothing has gotten so tight. She's most surprised by how much her lower belly and ass have grown. After seeing how big she's gotten she starts getting turned on and rubs her belly, fingers her belly button, and plays with her big juicy ass.

    $8.99

  48. 1 point
    Jiggly_Bum went on vacation with her feeder and all she did was eat and eat and eat! This photo set includes pics in swimsuits, dresses, shorts, and underwear. During this week of photos Jiggly_Bum gained 5 pounds from eating out at buffets almost every day! Can you tell she's gotten fat?

    $5.99

  49. 1 point
  50. 1 point
    This is me hoping to get extra large for summer
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