Hopefully he won't pack on anymore before the party...
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from Philippines
seen from Philippines
seen from Philippines
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from Taiwan

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from T1
Hopefully he won't pack on anymore before the party...

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
After capturing Peter Hale, Chris decides to trial a new humane way of making sure wolves aren't a threat to anyone, overfeeding him & fattening him up until Peter is over 600 lbs and barely mobile. If only those gainer shakes didn't taste so could, maybe Chris wouldn't have put on so much sympathy weight...
You read my MIND!!!!!! I was just thinking about Chris being 'given' Peter by Gerard. Of having his own fattened pet, the wolf turned hog who is still managing to be a smug asshole even while he's got shake dribbling down his double chin and a gut wobbling in front of him with each growl.
Chris would set him free. But he needs to keep up his appearances. It helps to be in the hunter community still, hear the rumors, know what's happening. He's not about to throw it all away. Plus, if he refuses, Gerard will give Peter to someone worse.
So he was planning on keeping Peter trapped in the house, free to live and do whatever he wants but…within those 4 walls. Until he sees the fear in Peter's eyes as he goes to put wolfsbane around the house. The idea of being trapped inside again, at risk of another fire he can't escape from.
So Chris starts considering a Plan B. Keeps Peter tied comfortable in his basement while he has time to think. He probably COULD have come up with a much less insane option - but Peter has to go and open his mouth.
He's mouthy. Sarcastic and biting and snarky and neither his rapid approach to middle-age or being taken as a hostage has changed that. Can't help the "Feeling kinky, Christopher?" when Chris checks the handcuffs, and then complains about the fast food Chris has been tossing him for meals.
So, fuck it. It starts off as a one time thing. Just to get Peter to shut his damn mouth. Chris doesn't even make a shake, just grabs whatever he has in his fridge - the milk, the coffee creamer, the cans of soda, the bottles of beer. Stands behind Peter, tilts his head back and demands him to drink.
Chris likes the results a little too much. The wolf looking up at him, neck exposed, breathing heavily, mouth slightly open. Belly bloated out, far from the flat stomach he's used to seeing, instead Peter looks several months pregnant.
But not enough of a gut to hide that Peter is hard. Chris is too.
He leaves Peter like that - beer and soda dripped down his front, and Chris goes and jerks off in the shower. Decides he needs to know what Peter would look like if they kept this up. Tested up how much a werewolf can stretch and balloon and fatten for Chris.
Wonders if he could break Peter enough so that he could have him eating on all fours. Or leave him tied up, funnel in his mouth, endlessly pumping him full for hours.
Not the method Gerard would have picked but…there's clearly some sadistic Argent traits alive and well in Chris.
So the shakes are next. Chris finally has a plan that will solve all his problems: He won't need wolfsbane if Peter can't fit out the doors, or even get off the couch without some help. Can't mouth off if he's got shakes pouring down his throat.
Peter seems a little too onboard with it. Keeps goading Chris to give him more. Insisting he can handle it. Groaning about being hungry, as if Chris can't hear his stretched, shake-bloated stomach gurgling in protest and Peter can't help the belches bubbling out of him.
Chris pours calories down Peter's throat until the wolf's gut is reaching to his knees, covered in stretchmarks as his healing adapts and stretches to accommodate all of it. Chris pokes and prods and starts to be able to tell when Peter is actually, properly at his limit when his gut is stretched tight and his finger can hardly sink in. By the next morning? Stretchmarks are gone, Peter's belly is shrunk down to his now sizeable, blubbery beer belly instead.
But it's never enough. Chris wants more. He wants Peter to start getting concerned about how obese he's getting. Realize Chris isn't just trying to break him - he's going to make Peter his personal blimp. So the shakes get bigger. New recipes, trying to pack in as many calories as he possibly can.
Chris doesn't mean to try the first shake. But it's not easy keeping Peter at the point of being so bloated, he's docile. So after pouring over a dozen shakes down his throat- Chris wants a break. Wants a damn beer, but the shake is only thing within reach, and it only takes a gulp and the realization "this is damn good" to finish the rest of it.
He thinks about it much later. When he's cursing and trying to get his jeans to fasten over a few inches of pudge around his middle that wasn't there last month.
That he's been making calorie bomb shakes to overpower a werewolf's metabolism. As a human? Chris is doomed.
(Peter loves it. When he's at his limit, belching loudly and clutching at his now 'too large to reach around' gut, feeling like one light touch or one more swallow might make him burst- he gets to watch Chris decide the best way to clean up the leftover shakes is to gulp them down himself. Buttons straining, shirt rising up to reveal his own well-rounded middle swelling with each massive swallow.)
Fluffy AU because I'm obsessed with fat dilfs and their bratty feeder Stiles turns 30 and realizes he's also gained maybe 20 pounds in the last two years. Which - isn't a big deal, but he starts worrying what his boyfriends will think. Peter and Chris picked him up in a bar a few years ago, making it clear they were looking for a pretty young thing to warm their bed. It was only supposed to be a one night fling. But there was something about Stiles that Chris and Peter couldn't say goodbye to, and somehow, Stiles ended up becoming a permanent part of their relationship. Maybe they think it's more permanent than Stiles, who starts worrying that he's hit an age where Peter and Chris are going to lose interest and go back to hunting in bars for a 20 something year old twink. Which - absolutely isn't happening. Peter and Chris have claimed DIBS. But when Stiles still seems distance and upset after several months, it's clear it's more of a deep seated issue than a passing thought. Peter comes home with a armful of groceries and tells Chris no arguing, they have to do this for Stiles. They're going to be the fat, old dilfs and Stiles will always feel young and skinny next to them. The plan of "we only need to gain like 30 pounds" backfires dramatically when Peter and Chris can't seem to give up their gluttonous diets they adopted lately. Or when Stiles walks in on them chugging down shakes and pushing each other to keep eating. Because sure- his dilfs are hot, but his dilfs with massive beer bellies? Better.
Fat dilf Chris please 🥺🥺
I love fat dilf Chris. Maybe between Allison dying and coming back - finds himself in the "what does it matter" stage of life, where all he does is sit around drinking himself to a solid beer gut, and eating enough takeout that at any given time, his trashcan is overflowing with it. The solid, rounded gut that almost sways and bounces as he walks, offset by thick arms and thighs and a steadily softening chest. Chris has always known what he wants. Confident and self-assured- that he's looking for a partner to fatten him until he's forced to retire from hunting. Either a pretty little thing, younger than him and looking for a daddy to feed and balloon...or a big bag wolf looking to get revenge on a hunter.
For the fat DILFS! imagine Peter and Chris invite stiles to be their third but are secretly thinking on fattening him up! And end up gaining 100 pounds each before they realize what a good encourager he is.
They underestimate Stiles' metabolism. Which- stupid of them, really. They've got 20 decades on him easily, not to mention Stiles is constantly moving and forgets to eat. So he thinks they're being considerate! Taking him out to eat. Cooking for him. Ordering takeout. It looks like Stiles is overeating - but he still ends most meals too full to finish, and slides the rest over to Peter or Chris. Or Peter and Chris are so busy watching Stiles eat half a pizza, they don't realize they've finished off an entire one themselves. Stiles isn't even being subtle. He's patting their overstuffed guts and telling them it feels like they have more room. Rubbing and kneading and pawing at their ever expanding blubbery tanks, until they're pushing their bellies out and practically rumbling in contentment. It's the wordless message of "Stiles wants us bigger, more to squeeze and play with and wobble" and soon overeating is a daily problem. Not that they ate in moderation before. But now? Stiles is leaning over their rounded middles to kiss them and gets a belch in response. He wants his dilfs lazy and fat so he can be sandwiched between them.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Superchub dilfs Peter, Noah, and Chris debating amongst themselves who has the best feeder that keeps them stuffed and pampered.
So cliche but they seem the type to have regular poker nights. Sit around with beers and pizza and play...except they only get a game or two done, and then they become more focused on the game of "who can eat the most" or Noah and Chris sitting back and watching Peter down enough beer to take out a frat house. At first it would be the casual pat on their gut. The chuckle and offhand mention they're getting a little wide in the middle. The "damn boy cooks too much for me!" But now they've fully accepted and leaning into it. Potbellies swollen to proper beer bellies, which have since ballooned further to just blubbery guts, sitting heavily in their laps, inching closer and closer to their knees. Hands resting on top of their mountainous middles. Swapping stories of the buttons they've lost that week. The "must have eaten my weight in burgers this week" or "Jesus, Chris, what's he been feeding you this week, you look ready to pop" They can argue all they want - but the evidence is clear they all have a feeder very, very dedicated to keep them well fed. (Their feeders are at a restaurant in town, waiting for the call that their dilfs need to be picked up, because there's no chance any of them are going to be able to drive with sloshing, bloated guts and so dazed, they're slipping into food comas. Having their own conversations about how well they're expanding. How to push them faster. Higher calories meals. Stretch their appetite. Wondering who is going to be the first to hit the next milestone)