big ass, bigger dreams

Is it me when I look at you as if you were sweetest of pastries? When the desire kicks in stronger than ever and I only wish to see you fuller, softer and bigger. So I go out of my way to spoil you and feed you tasty delicacies; only so I can get more of you, more thighs to squeeze, more lovehandles to grab, more belly to play with and a bigger appetite to have more fun with.

Or is it you when you crave this deeply? The urge to grow and eat as much as your heart desires, to only eat your favorites and laze after hefty meals that feel like they weigh you down into cozy naps.

Going out of your way to eat and overeat, all so you can keep collecting extra pounds and see your skin tearing itself apart with red marks from the pure gluttony that you constantly force into your already plump body.

Only to see they are around my age, definitely impressive. These are supposed to be our "prime years", the "best time" of our lives when it comes to physical condition in general.

Yet here you are, stuffing your belly with so much food until you end up bloated and eventually in a food coma, barely getting any physical activity in your day to day and the little you do, like climbing up a flight of stairs, leaves you winded.

Having a gut that rests heavily on your thick thighs, plenty of fat rolls to go along with your belly and a nice double chin that always frames your face. You have really fattened yourself up in a very short amount of time, almost as if you were trying to win a competition, but of course there was never one, all that weight came from gluttony and a desire to be this plump little thing, all that eating has turned you into a proper fatty.

While I know not everyone works out like I do, not everyone gets winded with a flight of stairs, most people don't get tired by walking around for a bit and certainly most people can't eat multiple meals in one seat.

You eat dinner and your undershirt starts to ride up, displaying the stretchmark riddled fat belly that you've created. But you like the feeling of the cold air tickling your exposed and sensitive flesh. You don't even try to pull the shirt down. It's as if you want your belly seen.

You wake up in the morning, earlier than you need to, feeling ravenous. (But of course you're starving, the way you eat before bed, you're too full to breathe... your stomach is a suffering empty vessel the next morning). You gluttonously stuff yourself with everything you can. What else would that extra time before work be for? Coffee? Hell no.

Your appetite is impressive. But then, you try to dress for the office, grabbing the largest clothing you have, and you can't even button your shirt. You had just purchased these button down shirts, how do they no longer fit?

It looks like it'll be another day off for you... but will you spend it buying clothes that fit? Or will you push that to another day so that you can indulge your gluttony? For you, time off is an invitation to spend the day ordering take-out and treats.

You're going to lose your job soon... I don't think the "I can't find clothes that fit me" excuse is going to work with them too much longer.

Outgrowing clothing is one thing; but eventually, you'll waddle into the house at the end of the day, plop yourself on the sofa, and it WILL collapse beneath you. It's really only a matter of time until all the furniture fails on you and suddenly even the doorways themselves will become restrictive.

But, for me? You outgrowing your world is such a pleasure to watch. You always seem surprised as you become too fat or too heavy for one thing after another.

But I'm not. Not one bit of me feels shock or surprise. I see the way you eat. I see the way you avoid exercise (you won't even stand from the couch to get food if I'm there... you let me use my energy; after all, we can't have you expending calories).

You want to be immobile. Your beautiful deep voice has never literally stated your goals or desires on that front. It's that unspoken, elephant in the room. But your actions certainly shout out your need to become as fat as possible.

I can't keep my eyes off of it. But you know I love it. The way I stare at you... you know you're sexy. And the bigger and fatter and more jiggly you get... the more I can't take my eyes or hands off of you. They aren't stares or touches of digust or disappointment. In fact, my positive attention only makes you want to get fatter and outgrow everything in your life.

At this point? Go ahead big boy... outgrow your clothes and waddle naked around our house. Outgrow our furniture, force me to buy bariatric items. Outgrow our home... make me spend tens of thousands widening doorways, reinforcing flooring and the structure itself.

like yes, tell me about how your belly gets in the way of putting on shoes!

tell me about how your belly keeps on bumping into your desk!

tell me about how you're out of breath so fast now!

tell me about how hard it gets to get up from the couch/bed!

Today I tried on a newish 5XL shirt and my gut hangs out the bottom of it pretty much with every movement. I have only had this one 6 months. I also tried to slide on my favorite shorts from last summer and they simply didn’t fit. I had to pull and pull to get them over my fatpad and my ass, and I realized I wasn’t using my size extenders on them…WRONG. I already had the small (one size) extender on! So I tried the 2-3 size one and now it fits, but goodness does it creak.

This isn’t even coming from a fetish perspective. Fat people look good in everything.