kat

Quesadilla for an appetizer, then two bigass entrees. I felt so fucking packed, but then the waitress HAD to mention dessert. I asked her what she recommended and she described all the different things in it and just followed it up “it’s really good”.

That was all the convincing I needed 😩 how come I get asked about dessert all the time now and especially after porking out this much. My gut is so fucking solid after all this fucking food ugh. I feel so big and round, I’m just glad I made it back out to the car so I can rub my fat gut and moan over in now.

Seriously when I was at the table I unbuttoned my pants before the dessert got there cause I needed more room so fucking bad. I hope no one noticed cause my fat GUT also makes my shirt ride up so it can’t cover the button sometimes if I’m not paying attention.

I keep thinking I’m not gonna finish these kinds of meals but then 20 min later it’s all stuffed down in my fat greedy gut. Fuck I’m so full, I need to fucking whine and bitch about how fucking full I am so bad. I just couldn’t fucking stop stuffing it in my mouth.

Ugh do I look like a big fat bellied gluttonous hog eating this much??

My waitress kept saying stuff like “dig in” when she put it all down in front of me cause I guess it’s kinda obvious it’s so much food.

The best part though was when I stuffed the last bite down she came over and she just had this “worried” look on her face when she asked “are you thinking about dessert at all?”

It felt like she was obligated to ask me but was concerned about asking if I wanted even MORE food. When that happens I gotta say yes 😩

But she brought it out and it was incredible and she was super nice and was hyping up how good it looked when she slid it in front of my other two demolished plates.

My gut was BULGING out in front of me when I got back to my car. I took a few days off from stuffing so I was worried my capacity went down but it looked like I was still able to crush this ridiculous amount of food in one go 🥵

I hope I didn’t look too much like a big fatass gorging all this down by myself 🥵😬

i feel like a can of biscuits.. popping out of all my clothes this big belly just can’t be contained any longer 🥴 i can’t wait to stuff myself big and overfilled today with this bloated belly 🤭😫🩷

my tight leggings have been digging into my poor piggy belly all day 😫 so happy to be home and being able to let her free while i continue eating 🥰

1. Eat meals in larger portions and not a bunch of small bites through the day. It’s proven that eating large meals in closer proximity to each other time wise is way worse for your waistline then a ton of mini meals spread out during your schedule. Even just two massive ass meals is worse then 6 small ones spread across a 24 hour period

2. Snacking obviously is great for gaining but also make sure to have easy to eat high calorie low nutrient foods to gain weight. Things like potato chips, sugary cereal, and white flower bread products can make you gain more in between meals. It’s not filling foods but they still will noticeably make you bigger over time while not taking away opportunities to stuff from bigger meals

But god it tasted so good, you think to yourself absentmindedly as you unbutton your pants for the short drive back home. You stayed at work late today, knowing your beloved partner was home waiting for you, longing to join you on the couch for some much-needed vegging out.

You pull up to your humble abode, belly full, but not painfully so. You heave a sigh before you suck yourself in just enough to redo your pants button before wadddling inside. “Waddling” is the only way you can describe it at the moment.

Much to your dismay, as you open the door, the intoxicating aroma of a freshly cooked dinner hits you like a brick wall.

“Hi baby! I knew you were working late today so I -”

Their words stop in their throat when they see you. You like to think it’s just the joy of having you home with them at last that stops them, but you know the truth. Your tummy is stretching rather tautly against your shirt, much more noticeably than it had been when you left for work that morning. Your partner isn’t oblivious.

“Oh, babe. You look exhausted. You kick your feet up and relax, dinner is almost ready.”

Dinner? You just had dinner! But Jesus, the look in their doe eyes would make you rather disappear into the ground than refuse them. By the smell of it they’ve been working for hours on whatever they’re cooking up, and far be it from you to let that go to waste. You do as you’re told and take your seat on the sofa afront the TV, anxiously awaiting whatever they are bound to present to you.

And present they do. A short few moments later, once you’re fully relaxed and engrossed into an episode of your favorite show, a heaping bowl of creamy, decadent pasta is planted in front of your softening face. It smells…buttery. Impossibly decadent. Fattening.

A single second passes where you think, I could say no, but you don’t. You couldn’t bear to let their efforts go to waste. And so instead you say, “thank you, baby. This looks delicious,” before you shovel a forkful into your greedy mouth.

And delicious it is. You were right about the decadence, of course. Your arteries can feel the fat, even before you swallow. You’re attuned to it now. You’ve grown to crave this indulgence, this excess. No matter how much you eat, you feel you can’t refuse another bite. Of anything. Ever.

Forkful after forkful, you feel the top of your stomach expanding, growing tighter with each bite. But still you can’t stop. It’s addictive.

“What did you put in this, babe?” you question, feigning ignorance, pretending to be enamored by your beloved’s skills in the kitchen. You’re lying, though. Inside you know it’s just that you’re insatiable, unable to resist the temptations of a warm meal.

“Nothing new, hon, I just figured you’d be hungry since you worked so late.”

You know they’re lying, too. Both of you complicit in what’s happening. You’re getting fatter with every bite you take, and you both know it, and neither of you are upset by it. The itch of your growing stretchmarks betray your façade.

You finish the first bowl, full now beyond able to ignore, but you ask for seconds anyway.

“God, you’re such a great cook. How’d I get so lucky?” You say innocently, giving your rounded belly a pat. “I’m so full! My mouth wants more but my stomach is protesting.”

It’s true. Your gut aches, but you’ve grown to crave this. This overfull, overindulged sensation.

Your partner moves to you gracefully, adorably, nothing but love in their eyes.

“Doesn’t look like you’re that upset, babe,” they say, eyes perceptively locked on your crotch. Their hand moves between your thighs and begins to rub.