boybellybig

At least one anon asked for a hard drive update, so: after 2 separate campaigns by relatives of the Karen persuasion, fuck knows how many phone calls, and a desperate road trip, I have learned and resigned myself to the fact that my lost luggage is sitting in a warehouse in fucking Texas, and that there is not a Greyhound employee alive that both can and will get me access to it. Rip.

The silver lining is that I can be reasonably certain my original fiction and art won't magically get published by some guy in Timbuktu - which was a legit fear I was nursing when I was told it might have been stolen.

Moral of the story: never travel with your work when you're in the middle of backing it up, emergency or no.

Also never step off a bus for those 20-minute breaks without all of your stuff, because the one time you don't is the one time the driver pulls out 3.3 minutes early and abandons you in downtown Nowhere at 4a.m.

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, PUT TAGS ON EVERYTHING, even if you only have carry-ons. They can't do shit for you without tags.

It's a nod to the first time I consciously realized I was into mpreg specifically. I was hanging out with my best friend, his husband and their boyfriend. This was at the tail end of Bestie's first pregnancy, when he was huge and constantly flipflopping between cranky and horny (hence the boyfriend). In retrospect I'd been lowkey turned on by Bestie's belly for months, but it wasn't until Boyfriend finished massaging Husband and went over to Bestie, who was sitting alone in the La-Z Boy sulking about not being the center of attention. Boyfriend straddled Bestie's legs on the footrest, got a good grip, hoisted Bestie's gut off his crotch, and said "Boyy, belly gettin big," while giving it a little shake.

i'm so sorry i lost this in the notes ahhhhh

okay so listen. the thing about bellied boys and clothes is that there is so much you can do with them.

you can have a guy who's grown out of his favorite shirt, and poutily wears it anyway to a family barbecue. it's only juuust too small, so he waddles around with a plate of ribs in one hand and the other constantly pulling down his hem, a little bit self-conscious, a little bit flustered.

you can have a guy taking point at an office presentation, all sharp in a suit he had tailored a week ago for just this occasion, only he starts having a growth spurt in the middle of the fourth slide, and he has to go through slides 5-16 in abject, mortified misery pretending his buttons aren't popping off and his seams aren't creaking ten inches from his CEO's horrified face.

you can have a guy in leather putting on a bedroom show for his lover/s, making an absolute spectacle of every surge of growth and every split.

really realistic ones absolutely do. but it's rarer.

with photos my brain has a bigger problem suspending disbelief, and it's a lot harder to get the unreal belly sizes i like to look... uh. real.

i see what you did there anon. i've been on the fence about it, just because when i get a scenario in my head it tends to... grow out of proportion o.0