Big Beards & Huge Bellies

your massive and overflowing belly, looking so heavy and squeezable

your huge cellulite filled thighs and ass, your enormously wide and fat filled hips

your sagging & dropping double chin from what a pig you’ve turned yourself into

your hanging rolls just oozing off your soft thick back

your calves slowly turning into cankle triangles from how how utterly obese you’ve become

your massive flabby wings flapping with every motion you make

your chunky sausage fingers barely being able to grip anything from how greasy you are

your deep and massive lardy side rolls always begging to be fucked and grabbed

just your pure lard on your body is so attractive to me, i want more of you, i want you to be a pile of absolute gluttony and obesity for me, never knowing when you’ll be able to get up next. Never knowing just how many thousands of calories your next feeding will be…. Never knowing your limit, being controlled and told what to do at every bite

Soon this one-off hangout becomes a regular weekly routine, then bi-weekly, then 3 or 4 nights a week, because you’d rather hang out with your fat foodie buddy and get high than waste time at the gym - and he’d much rather prefer that you did that as well. In fact, although he doesn’t say it, every gym session you skip gets rewarded with an extra pizza and tub of ice cream. This routine starts taking its toll on your body but your fat bud doesn’t mind. He’s started reaching out and rubbing your rapidly expanding belly lately, and you can’t help but return the favour. He’s giving you his old 4XL tank tops and sweatpants to wear since you’re getting too big for your own lately, and these are much more comfy for your widening ass.

And then, before you know it, you’re over there every night, getting high, shoving greasy burgers and pizzas and fries into your flab-filled face, outgrowing all your clothes before you even have a chance to wear them in for long, and now you’re making out with your massively obese friend who enabled you to get this fucking fat, while he plays with your tits and gets you grunting like a genuine pig. You need to be over there regularly anyway - the fatpad he’s pushed on you is now too big and deep for you to be able to reach that buried nub anymore, so you need him to reach in and help you finish.

You move out of your old place, which you pretty much never spend any time at anymore anyway, and move in with your new superchub boyfriend. Now the only place he lets your gigantic rump waddle to anymore is between the fridge, the bed, the bathroom and the couch - he takes care of answering the door with your food deliveries. You’ve forgone even the most basic of oversized tank tops and sweatpants and are just lazed out on the couch in the 8XL overstretched fat guy briefs that barely contain your swollen fatpad and oversized fat pig rump.

Being so large that my gut dominates my stance, my world revolves around it now in more ways than one. It’s as if it has its own gravitational pull, jutting out and always entering a room before me - leading the way and guiding me; So big I can always see it, unable to ignore it - so gargantuan even when it’s empty.

The soft, doughy flab that cushions my body quakes and jiggles with every movement - any touch sending waves across my expanse.

The way gravity pulls at my belly, reminding me how heavy it is as it sways between my legs; I try and heft each tree-trunk legs one in front the other, fighting against the fleshy apron that almost reaches my knees.

I’d have to sit down after a pitiful few minutes of huffing through my slow steps, resting on a creaking chair as I shove a snack in my mouth, claiming I ‘need the energy’.

I’d be a public spectacle, crowds parting for me as they wouldn’t want to be trampled by a wobbling whale.

Immobility is hot, but I love the struggle of moving under the weight I’ve burdened myself with.

Over time, they would chip away at my waistline - they give me the same big portions they'd have, and soon enough I'm almost cleaning the plate.

They constantly hand me snacks, teasing my belly that's growing but still dwarfed by theirs.

Then come the feeding sessions.

It'd start as a mutual stuffing, they'd go around the group affectionately filling their bellies, and I'd watch in rapt amazement at their gluttony.

They'd then turn their eyes on me, all of them sitting me down and lovingly bringing all kinds of delicious food to my mouth.

It'd leave me breathless, swollen, and pleasurably aching by the end - my capacity increased and craving more.

It becomes a regular thing, and they take me out to buy new clothes - several sizes bigger than I need, though they claim they won't last long.

Soon enough I'm indistinguishable from them, possibly even bigger. They've molded me, crafted me like clay into a huge, hedonistic fatty who lives to fill their belly with decadent delights and as many calories as can.

We fondle each other's enormous belly overhangs, jiggling the fat we've caringly packed on each other.

We'd waddle around, our group a spectacle that parts crowds and draws awed stares

yes, total beard porn