Beetleboy's Writing Corner!

give it a few more centuries. you're still mobile, your muscles have had plenty of time to adjust, but...things are getting more difficult. maybe you should stop now, maybe you should try and lose it, but things aren't that bad. you can still walk, after all, even if doorways are becoming an issue.

Starting off 2026 right with a comic I started like...3-4 months ago and just chipped away at slowly xDD

I needed more Feeder Leo/Feedee Marino in my life + cartoonishly big bellies so yeah please enjoy this self indulgence

"Oh come on Father, one more bite won't hurt. Try it! I worked so hard on this :("

At first, the weight isn’t much of issue. He’s always been chubby and one dress size up won’t deter him from the grades he wants. He doesn’t exercise by parking himself in a desk chair and barely moving for the day, poring over texts, so some weight is inevitable. Right?

He doesn’t cook for himself often, because it takes too much time from his studies. His mom sends things to his dorm like new underwear and socks and baked goods and if his weight changes drastically enough to render most of his closet moot he asks her for a size up.

When he revises, he snacks through nearly a whole day’s worth of calories, surely. When he has an upcoming exam or finds something in his notes he’s a bit muddy on, he panics and stuffs his face with takeout. A ton of burgers and fries, a large soda maybe, and some ice cream or something from the bakery down the road to wean him out of his feeding frenzy.

His later classes are always a pain because he ends up waddling there on a stuffed belly after gorging throughout the day as he’s studied.

There’s whispers from his classmates as his ass spreads in his seat, trapping his hips under the arms. Lately he’s had to make a habit of lifting an arm between two seats so he can sit on both, but occasionally he forgets, resulting in an end of lecture struggle.

During lectures he nervously grazes on a bag full of chips and candy bars to help him focus.

He decides to cut back, but when he’s studying the next day and uncovers a section he doesn’t know that well, he panics. He ends up in the closest fast food place shoveling food into his mouth until he can focus on the subject.

When he graduates, he’s over twice the size of what he was when he enrolled. And with a brain like his, he’s bound for a desk job - IT, maybe - where he can eat as much as he wants at his desk and blush when he can’t quite get out of his chair.

If anyone in the office wants him to put them on the top of his priority list, they know to take him food. Otherwise he’ll just insist he can’t work/think on an empty stomach and head straight to the cafeteria.

I won’t be treating it as such going forward, this is more of a meta element, but this could make great slob material. The nerd that keeps growing and has his whole workspace and car covered in evidence of him stuffing his face? Ooh.

The colleagues his age in the office space are kinder than his peers in school, but whether they’re doing so because they need something or are genuinely being nice is always a mixed bag. The older generation isn’t so much, mostly just tolerating him. After all, shouldn’t a boy his age be embarrassed to be that size?

He always goes home for the holidays. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, his mother dotes on him and keeps his plate well stacked. It distracts him from the stresses of work, as that habit hasn’t died, and as his father doesn’t do much to withhold his disapproval of his state, he eats through that too.

His mother assures him he can just sit back and relax and eat as much as he wants, though she does think that some company could do him some good. A nice girl his own age, maybe.

On the drive home, he’s still stuffed. His belly is very heavy in his lap after being constantly full for a week or two thanks to his mother’s terrific, love-filled cooking. But the stresses of work and his mother’s desire for him to find company creep in, and he detours to a drive thru. His order is so large, that after he’s done he’s convinced there surely should be a law against driving like this. But it won’t be his last meal of the day – it’s only 2pm, after all.

He’s never really thought about what he’s into to even start looking. Even as a teenager, his romance has always been with food, given his ‘condition’. At best, when he’s touching himself as he eats after work, he’ll think of being fed or having his belly rubbed to make more room, but his primary focus will always be on the food. It’s a need.

If there’s someone at work that brings in stuff they’ve made and tries to make sure he has extra and enjoys, then it definitely goes over his head at first. The soft touches have a similar effect, though they stand out only a little. This person is always asking him if he needs something to eat, too… it’s definitely something that makes him blush.

He’s in the habit of splitting seams and busting zippers while at work. Popping a button or two as well. It’s a good thing his mother taught him to sew when he would hang off her constantly as a kid, but it’s still a big inconvenience.

Moody boy when his belly rumbles. He struggles to focus and can snap until he gets his fix. Maybe he tries rushing or even putting off tasks until he can plot himself down in the cafeteria and eat his fill before waddling back to his desk with a happy sigh.

The IT department (maybe it’s just him, maybe it’s him and another or two) has its own little section divided from the rest of the office. He can lock the door if needed although it’s heavily recommended by his supervisor he doesn’t. Anyway: perfect opportunity to unbutton and rub his full belly to make room for the cupcakes one of the newbies left on his desk. His mouth is watering just looking at them. How is he meant to focus when they’re right there?

I might add more to this. I might not. It’s mostly just a thought dump for now lol, basically me trying to break my writer’s block & general anhedonia.

He dismisses any questions about a possible queen, though. And heirs. He doesn’t talk about heirs. Waves off any talk of it, any pestering. He’s king now, so there’ll be no arranged marriages unless he has a say in them.

Until one day, the king stops making public appearances. It lasts for two weeks or so, and one of his loyal advisors has to stammer to the crowd when they demand to know what’s happened to him, “Erm… the king is, um, busy courting a… his… new… queen.”

Confusion spreads through the kingdom. Then, at the end of those two weeks, the king returns, and he does announce a new queen to the public.

It’s a whole ceremonious affair. A throne is beside his own, much wider but shorter to compromise.

Then the queen is brought out. Escorted by a few servants, helped into the new throne, is what is immediately identified as a fat man in a dress.