Ups, fattened up more…

„Dank der Aufbaunahrung strotze ich nicht nur vor Gesundheit, sondern kann vor Kraft kaum noch Laufen.“

Just look at me… 🐷

301 lbs and this is what my body is turning into. That heavy, hanging apron belly with all those fresh stretch marks, soft and warm, resting lower every single week. My tits are getting so full and pillowy now — they rest right on top of this gut like they belong there, sensitive and heavy, begging to be touched while I stuff myself even more.

I’m so fucking gluttonous. I crave lard. I crave the grease, the cheese, the sugar, the constant fullness that makes me slower and softer. I love being this way. I love how my belly swings when I walk, how it gets in the way when I try to bend over, how it makes me huff and puff just existing. I want to be bigger. I want to be weaker. I want this fat to hinder me completely — to make every step a struggle, every movement a reminder that I’m becoming a helpless, obese hog who needs help just to exist.

I need you to help me get there. I need you to feed me, encourage me, push me until I’m too big to hide it anymore. Once I’m there — once I’m a true 500, 600, 700+ lb whale — I’ll need you even more. I’ll need you to lift this massive gut, to clean my folds, to bring me food when I can barely move. I’ll be your guilty gluttonous pleasure. Your hog king. Your favorite obese passion.

Look at this body and tell me you don’t want to watch it grow even fatter, softer, and more ruined.

I’m addicted. I’m not stopping. I’m only getting bigger for you.