Sensational

A reference for writers. If this enables one more sentence of chubby fic, my job is done.

Suggestions very welcome.

Updated here on a dedicated page with way more words (and organization)

CHUBBY

 ample  apple/pear  beefy  big  big boned  big frame  bigger  blimpy  blubbery  bulky  carrying extra pounds  chubby  chunky  corpulent  cuddly  dimpled  doughy  fattie  filled out  flabby  fleshy  floppy  fluffy  heavily built  heavy  heavyset  hippo  husky  large  meaty  obese  on the bigger side  out of shape  overweight  paunchy  plump  porker  porky  portly  pudgy  puffy  roly-poly  rubenesque  stocky  stout  thick  tubby  tubs  unfit  voluptuous well-nourished

BIG

 abundant   bloated         blob of    chunky  chubby  doughnut  flesh  full  heft   lush          mass  massive  mountainous       padded    plump     plush      rotund  round, rounded, rounded out  softened   swollen, swelled up  thick  wide 

BELLIES

 abdomen  beach ball  beer belly  blubber  girth  gut  middle  midsection    padding       paunch  pillow  pot belly  spare tire  stomach  tum  tummy  waist  waistline

BELLY PARTS

biggest/fattest/fullest/roundest part  love handles       mound    muffin top  overhang  rolls, fat rolls, side rolls  shelf   stretch marks   swells of fat    underbelly

WHAT BELLIES DO

 balloon out  bounce    bow out    bulge out  bump  droop  fill out  folds hang  jiggle  overflow  poke out  pooch out  protrude  push  quiver  settle  shake  shelf  sink       soften   stick out  suck in  swell out  tremble  wiggle  wobble

TOUCHES

 brush  drift over  explore  ghosting fingertips over  glide over  grab  hands sink in  knead  massage  pat  pinch  poke  push into  rest hand on  rub  rub circles /draw circles  squeeze  squish

FEELS

 comfy  cuddly  cushiony   dimpled   doughy  firm  lumpy  mushy  pliable  smooth  soft  squishy  warm  yielding

CLOTHES

To grow fat. To crave more.

Now everyday you're growing. You can't help it. You can't turn it off. You can eat so much now you don't realize with every bite past your lips that you're only making room for more, increasing your capacity for gluttony.

You only notice when you're outgrowing something—your clothes, furniture, a space you used to fit in comfortably—to an embarrassing degree. Or you sit back stuffed after a meal and see the mountain of empty containers, the stacks of plates and bowls ...

Suddenly, you become aware how heavy you feel, how you couldn't stop, how your stomach pushes out more than you last remember, maybe you've spiraled more than you think, you have been accidentally stuffing yourself multiples times a week lately because you need to be full these days to be satisfied and normal meals don't cut it anymore, but who cares because eating just feels so good, and are those new stretchmarks?

You're aching and tender and sensitive, exploring and touching your body to these thoughts. You don't even know when you started doing that, it's so automatic at this point. Squeezing, hefting, gasping, belching, whimpering, moaning.

You're definitely bigger, softer. There's more to heft and grab—it's so addictive, the sensation rubbing and playing with your belly, of jiggling with every move. The way it's all your fault. There's no one to blame but you, your appetite, and your desire that's gotten you here.

... and it only makes you wetter for dessert.

You thought greed could never control you. That it couldn't trap you in a cycle that you were so sure you could leave whenever you were done, once you thought you had your fun with your feedist tendencies and be ready to leave them behind.

Look at you now, huh, fatty?

god i feel like such a fat blob 🥵🥵

really overdid it at applebees 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨🥵🤤

It might start as an occasional indulgence, a way to unwind, to let go of the pressure of being perfect.

But it will always be there, at the back of your mind.

The knowledge of how good it feels to be full.

And the desire to keep growing for me.

It's there when you put an extra pump of syrup and dash of cream in your third coffee.

It's there when you add a second dish to your take out order 'for leftovers'.

And it will be there when you finally give in. When you're on your knees in front of me as I push creamy pastries between your plump lips, your apron of a belly spilling over your knees.

When you let me consume your thoughts, your body, your existence.

You used to eat like a regular person, maybe you’d pick at an appetizer, eat most of your entree, and snack on a shared desert if someone else insisted…. what happened to those days? What happened to leftovers?

We’ve trained you so well. You’re never satisfied with just one meal, just one entree. You’ve been conditioned to want more - feel like you deserve more. Just look at what we’ve done to you in just a few short years….

You’ve been enabled and pushed to the point where you can’t go back, even if you tried - you can’t help yourself at this point… When someone puts a plate infront of you, it’s turned into your second nature to devour the meal without even thinking - without even the slightest thought about the word “full”.

You’ve been kept so docile and sedentary, being taken care of and having meal after meal brought to you without a care in the world, without an ounce of self control you indulged in every meal you were brought… slowly wanting more and more and craving the weight - craving the growth you first were so unsure about. Now you can’t get enough of anything.

I want you to constantly feel that you're taking up space. You know, that feeling where your brain hasn't quite adjusted to your new size; where you find yourself bumping into furniture or doorways... that you could swear were wider just two days ago. I want you to start noticing that your kitchen counter seems higher than it did before... Or maybe, your gut finally hangs so low that it kisses the countertop when you're looking for a snack. I want you to wonder why all of your clothes suddenly seem to have shrunk in the wash. After all, the nice pair of jeans you just bought must be poor quality... The button flew off the second you sat down, but it's not like you've been eating enough to stuff a stoned linebacker, right?

You haven't been eating much at all, have you? Some avocado toast for breakfast... Followed by two mcgriddles and a huge iced coffee. A salad for lunch... accompanied by a triple decker burger and a massive basket of cheese fries. And dinner, since you ate so healthy and light during the day, you treat yourself to a pizza... Or two... Or three. And fuck it, why not some ice cream too? You've been good, you deserve a treat, don't you? You couldn't possibly have outgrown your clothes eating like that. That's crazy!

But yes, I want you to feel heavier.

Not only in the sense that I can fit my entire head beneath your massive tit, but in the sense that you can *feel* yourself growing... Stretching... Spreading wider. You can feel your supple, cellulite dimpled flesh getting softer, bathing you in a cozy blanket of lard. I want you to feel weighed down by your body, to question why you should ever have to get off the couch... To ever have to do anything beside eating and getting fatter.

Yes baby, I want you to feel heavier.

You need to feel your belly stretch so tight it aches, to feel your fat rolls pressing against everything, suffocating you in your own blubber. You need to cram every last bite down that greedy gullet, pushing yourself past the point of no return, where you can’t even think of stopping. That’s what you’re made for, pig. You were born to eat, to grow, to fatten up until there’s nothing left of you but a wheezing, jiggling mountain of lard.

Every single calorie you shove in is another step closer to the oblivion you crave. Another stretch mark etched into your skin. Another pound of lard weighing you down, burying you in your own greed. You love that, don’t you? The way your fat jiggles when you move, the way your belly hangs lower and heavier with every stuffing.

will i make the cheer📣 team? 🙈