Feeders are hot and all but so are âbad influencesâ and enablers. Big fat superchubs that are so ingrained in their gluttonous, hedonistic lifestyle of obesity that they canât help but rub it off on anyone who happens to end up in their presence for any real amount of time. Theyâll have you over just to game and order pizza and get high, maybe theyâll just order an extra pizza just to leave out for you to subtly coax you into indulging, and with a little more weed and nudging youâll be wolfing it down before you know it.
Soon this one-off hangout becomes a regular weekly routine, then bi-weekly, then 3 or 4 nights a week, because youâd rather hang out with your fat foodie buddy and get high than waste time at the gym - and heâd much rather prefer that you did that as well. In fact, although he doesnât 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 doesnât mind. Heâs started reaching out and rubbing your rapidly expanding belly lately, and you canât help but return the favour. Heâs giving you his old 4XL tank tops and sweatpants to wear since youâre getting too big for your own lately, and these are much more comfy for your widening ass.
And then, before you know it, youâre 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 youâre 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 heâs 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. Youâve 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.
Heâs pulled you out of the real world and brought you into his hazy, obese, decadent life of hedonism and gluttony, and youâre never getting out. Not that you could ever want to. Who needs a gym and a normal life when you can rub fatpads with the 500lb fat man who quietly made you even fatter than he is.
amandla
dailybridgerton
jimmyeatworldofficial
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
yousharknotpass
