fat fuck warehouse

Just let me play with your chub while we cuddle

Or pop a cupcake in your mouth at dinner

Maybe we could just get in bed and watch movies while snacking for hours

Or I could even just hug you and feel how soft you are while we’re pressed against each other.

people see you and naturally take pity on you.

you're so big, everything must be such hard work.

everyone knows you'll be panting and out of breath if you have to do things for yourself.

There’s no way they could do anything. Just writhe and whine and wince in pain as you marvel at them, a strong sense of pride and arousal bubbling inside you as you realize you did this to them. There’s no way they would’ve gotten this debilitatingly stuffed on their own. They’re reduced to this pitiful state all because you pushed and overfed them well past their limit. And now you get to take such good care of the mess you’ve made them into…

i was trying on a bathing suit bottom with these cute strings to tie on the side, and i just. couldn’t for the life of me remember how to tie them? and it got me thinking—i haven’t worn shoes i had to tie in well over a year.

i could barely reach with both hands to make the knot—my tits were in the way, my belly filled the space i had to reach over… i got exhausted just trying to reach

i wear things that’re easy to get on and easy to get off. i can’t bend over too well because my belly is in the way. it’s starting to hang so, so low.. and i can’t even reach my feet anymore—if i tried to plant my nails it would be exhausting, i’d be out of breath in seconds

it makes me wonder what’s next. will i forget the little trick i use to get bras on? will i forget how to hoist myself up off the floor sometime in the next 100 pounds?

and then, when i finally get to those “too big to live alone without a caretaker” sizes, what will be next?

clumsy, fat fingers unable to button up shirts. the same overly softened hands struggling to hold a fork, eating without utensils is just so much easier.. can’t reach around my belly enough to button any pants, either, it’ll have been years (and hundreds of pounds of lard) since i could even see what i’m doing, anyways