🪄Hello! I’m Orb, but you can also call me Wiz or something I still gotta think of an alias or whatever <3. I use this account mostly to express whatever horny thoughts come to mind and all.
🪄I’m a cis man, bi, AuDHD, a switch with a dom-lean, and in my mid-twenties! I try and keep age a little vague for privacy purposes. If that makes folks uncomfortable I understand.
If you are not 18+ then do not interact with this Blog. Minors DNI.
🪄Asks and DMs are open! I’m okay with horny asks, but I reserve the right to be picky about my DMs and all.
What I’m into!: feedism (I’m a feeder, fond of both gentle feedism and mean stuff!), inflation (air, water, slime, uhhh probably a bunch of others idk how to categorize stuff), blueberry stuff, pregnancy (normal, rapid, hyper), lactation, hucow, pet play, clothing malfunction, intox (alcohol, haven’t tried weed yet), micro, slurred speech, force feeding, teasing (I enjoy teasing others but if you tease me at all I will enter sub-mode instantly), mobility struggles, immobility
I’m probably forgetting some stuff! This list may change as time goes on tbh
As far as Non-Kink goes, I enjoy gaming, TTRPGs, fantasy, and a few other things! Feel free to chat about non-horny stuff too sometimes, i might be down!
Apologies if I am a horny mess it’s admittedly 99% of what I post on here. Might also use the account to vent post and delete promptly afterwards! Idk yet though cause that might be embarrassing idk idk.
Finally, DNI if you’re homophobic, transphobic, racist, Zionist, or pro-Trump. Free Palestine, Black Lives Matter, and Trans Rights are Human Rights. Any failure to recognize those things means you probably aren’t welcome here, and you’re better off blocking me and moving on.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Okay, so I think I have an idea on how to handle the follower milestone with the help of some moots. Essentially, i wanna invite yall to send me some asks and prompts about some of yalls favorite tummy stuff, and I’ll pick my faves out and try and write something short about them this weekend!
Few things: obvs if I don’t write yours it’s not a personal slight, it could be for any number of reasons. I’m esp busy en so I’m gonna try and get to most of the ones I fw! And admittedly if you play into the kinks I’ve listed I’ll be more likely to write about yours/if you send an ask with kinks I don’t fw than I likely won’t write anything. That said, feel free to send me some prompts or asks or requests and I’ll try my absolute best to get around to them!! Go nuts!!
Thank y’all so much! I’m glad enough folks enjoy my sporadic horny ramblings!! I wanna do something special but I literally have no idea what to do so uhhh stay tuned maybe possibly
I fantasize a lot about perma-intox feedist scenarios. A feedee who’s ultimate fantasy is to turn off their brain completely by being high 24/7 and lying in bed stuffing their face all day. Finally getting a feeder who’s into the same thing and makes enough to allow them to turn into a weed-addicted pig who can’t even focus long enough to count the number of pizza slices they’ve eaten. Just constantly high, hungry and horny, gaining pounds by the hundreds each year until they’re near bed bound from complete inactivity, not aware of the date or time and just seeking out their next hit, their next meal, their next orgasm. Brain turning as soft as their body is while their loving feeder eagerly enables every moment of it, ensuring absolute comfort for their stupid, fat pet, baking weed into every dessert and ensuring their mouth is always full of food or a blunt. Permanent, endless indulgence and hedonism brought to life in the form of pillowy rolls and heavy stretch marks from years of nonstop eating, eyes bloodshot and underwear stained with the remnants of countless orgasms from rutting into their fat gut while their feeder uses their huge body to get off. God
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Imagining a culinary student and her roommate that she’s designated as her food disposal taste tester. At the start of the semester she’s not as confident in her cooking abilities, but her roommate dutifully tries it out and gives feedback. Of course she’s a bit ditzy when it comes to halving her portions, so she encourages her roommate to finish the rest of the course.
Over time her cooking improves, and with it, her opinion on her roommate’s taste. Barely even taking a few taste tests of her own food, she instead lets her roomie eat the whole meal. She’s already past the Freshman 15 at this point, and have already gone onto Baked Goods for the last half of the semester. Each attempt to refuse any more bites are met with sad eyes and guilt-laden words about food being needlessly thrown out. By the time the semester ends, she’s managed to pass her classes and her roommate has had to get a whole new wardrobe after going up two whole sizes during finals week. Already she’s imagining how many more techniques and recipes she’ll learn for the next four years along with how big her roommate might get…
I know I say every ask I get is super mega awesome epic but tbf yall keep sending me insanely hot concepts so like what else am I supposed to say?
Just imagine ending up with this sort of roommate! You head to your dorm, strike up some conversation to get to know each other, and invariably the topic shifts to diplomas. You explain you’re going into business, just number crunching for a nice and secure job. Yeah, a little soul-crushing, but at least you’ll be able to afford whatever you need and not have to worry about any terribly hard work (heavy lifting wasn’t really your style anyhow). She explains she wants to go into culinary, going on an on about how badly she’d like to open her own restaurant or even just a food truck. Her one hang up though: she’s worried she’s not quite good enough. You try to simply reassure her, eventually promising you’ll taste test all her food. I mean, couldn’t be too hard, right? Plus it means you can save on credits at the mess hall every other meal or so. She loves the idea, maybe a bit too quick to wrap you in a warm embrace as she thanks you considering you’ve only known each other an hour or so.
Within the first week you begin to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s not that the food is bad, far from it! The first meal she made you was fantastic, if a little under seasoned. You were sure to let her know that, and you kind of wonder if that’s what set her off like this, because once she heard that she quickly yolked the plate up from in front of you and made adjustments. They weren’t crazy ones, considering the food was already done, but all the same you could see her reseasoning the food before placing it back in front of you. Thus began the little dance the two of you did. You’d give criticism, and she’d be quick to adjust to try and meet your standards.
At first they were table-side adjustments, little things that certainly improved the dishes she made, but only slightly. Soon, however, you’d find yourself clearing one plate to have another placed right in front of you, your roommate eager to pick your brain. This wouldn’t have been such an issue, had she not seemingly been so insistent on you clearing your plate. She was sweet, but just a little air-headed, and took any thing short of a spotless plate as a statement about the quality of her food. You’d try and excuse yourself, only to look up and see her standing there all misty eyed; sniffling as she asked if there was something you didn’t like. So you grew used to finishing your plate. Your often heavy plate. Which was fine! You got used to hitting the gym the following morning anyway, especially once you noticed how all the fatty and starch heavy meals were cleaning to your once lithe frame anyhow. However, now you were being asked to finish another meal, give another opinion, and when you tried to insist you were full she’d look as if you personally had sentenced her childhood hamster to death. So you ate.
And ate.
And ate.
And ate.
You knew you should’ve drawn the line once she started stacking a third plate after your meals, and then a fourth. You wanted to say something, honest, but maybe you were interrupted by an errant burp in a futile effort to make space. Or maybe you were too focused on the way your pants dug into your pudgy belly to say no. Or maybe you were simply too dazed to speak, let alone lift your arm and shovel in anymore food. Soon meals changed, became these sorts of all-day affairs where you’d sample dish after dish. Eventually you had very little to criticize, her cooking was certainly only improving with each meal. The same way your stance was widening after each one. Your body jiggled with each step, your belly rested atop the widening space of your lap as your thighs pressed together all the way to your knees and then some. Your chest fattened and softened while your neck produced a prominent extra chin, your arms growing from toned to flabby as they were pinched by your ever-shrinking shirts. Your cheeks grew soft, cutely forcing your mouth into an almost permanent pout (whenever it wasn’t stuffed with food), and your ass turned many of your classes uncomfortable seats into cushioned thrones. Which would’ve been a delightful plus, if you weren’t spilling out of them.
You knew you had to say something. You stopped going to the gym once you started waking up nearly as full as when you went to sleep. Even talking on the treadmill for 5 minutes had you either panting or your tummy cramping, so you abandoned that little effort. Your old clothes don’t come close to covering your body anymore, and even the replacements you’ve bought leave little to the imagination. You could have stopped everything, put your foot down, and started dieting properly. You fully intended to do so when after the day you felt the seat of your pants rip when you bent down to grab your bag during class. You marched down the hall to your dorm, red in the face as you felt the hoodie wrapped around your waist slowly undo itself as your belly tugged at the failing knot with each ponderous step. You planned on telling your roommate that you couldn’t do this anymore. You swung the door open, your jaw hung open and forming the words ‘I’m done’, only to find something sweet and fruity steal the words from your mouth. Strawberry shortcake. You stopped and swallowed in shock, all that embarrassment and frustration fluttering away as the rich pastry disappeared on your tongue. And there your roommate was, hugging what she could reach of you and telling you finals were here, and she couldn’t be happy to have a friend like you helping her out. So, instead of going on a diet, you ended the night in a food coma, so throughly stuffed with sugar and pastries that your belly rose up before you like a wobbly dome as you collapsed in bed.
You couldn’t find the heart to speak up after that. The next two weeks felt like a maelstrom of sweets, a full on caloric assault with your metabolism and waistline as the victims. You wish you could speak up and say you hated how you ended every night so throughly bloated and stuffed you were panting like you’d ran a marathon, but some part of you insisted it wasn’t so bad. Sure, you could feel your hips graze the doorway when you waddle out of your dorm, but it stopped feeling so strange. This was also around the time your roommate began getting used to you growing so tired during your feedings that you’d just sit there in a haze, so she started feeding you. The first night that happened you both felt your faces flush as she wiped some icing from your chubby cheeks.
Last day of the semester, and you thankfully passed all your own exams. Most were online, thank god, because you weren’t so sure you had anything to wear to keep you decent. You tried some shorts the other day, and just getting them up your thighs was a massive battle. You barely managed to button them, only for the button to ping off across the room and crack a mirror as soon as you managed to sit up (an affair that took you about 10 minutes all on its own as you rolled too and fro like a turtle on its back). Your eyes looked at the damaged mirror and could hardly recognize the reflection.
All of your tops were makeshift bras at this point, impossible to pull down more than a few inches across the vast expanse of your stretch-mark laden gut before bunching back up. Your arms were permanently pinched by your sleeves, the slightest movement rolling them up as you struggled to sluggishly move them too and fro. Your hands and fingers had even gotten pudgy, softened with fat. Your thighs spilled out and filled most of your bed, letting your belly spill out in your lap like pudding as it flowed across it. Your eyes were permanently squinting at this point, and your actual chin was almost totally subsumed by your second one.
Just standing up was a chore that took a Herculean amount of effort, and staring at your reflection you almost wondered if you should just lie down instead. Some friends wanted to go out and celebrate the end of the semester, but you weren’t sure you could muster the energy. That was when your roommate burst in, happy as ever to announce she passed her finals. She practically sunk into your plush frame as she thanked you endlessly, certain she’d of failed without you. You couldn’t help but smile and laugh as you congratulate her, almost failing to notice the subtle blush on her face as she appraised your body. You felt her hand linger on your lovehandles just a few seconds longer than you’d expected, but you weren’t terribly opposed to that either. She told you the chef only took one bite out of what was a massive sheet cake, and it was your turn to blush when you heard your stomach growl in response to the mere mention of food. You told her you could try a slice, already planning out the excuse to text your friends to cancel your plans. The idea of finding something to wear out to the bars sounded exhausting, not to mention all the walking. You watched your roommate cut a slice from the cake, and as she did you tested trying to stand on your own, swinging yourself forward to gain some momentum only to have her insist she could bring it to you. That was good. Heavy lifting wasn’t really your style anyhow.
I've been given a new order: I have to leave this post up for one week. I am allowed to come for the duration, but once that time is up... For every like this post gets, I have to edge a full day. Please be kind 🥺 This puppy isn't sure how long they'll hold on for if they're stuck as a leaky, messy pet!
hey no offense but if i feed you a drink. Nd then another drink. and another drink and then some food. and tell you how cute you are when you’re tipsy and stuffing yourself and then i keep doing that till you’re sloppy drunk and so full you cant stand up woukd that be cool
Errs on the side of hyper preg shenanigans, but if you’re given a magic d20 that knocks you up with as many babies as you roll do you think you’re gonna take that gamble?
YES
Even on a crit fail I get what I want, anything past that just makes it all the sweeter. If I genuinely managed to crit success and get 20 babies in me, that'd be the dreeeaaam.
the idea of going out with a usually very reserved feeder friend and them getting hammered and just pushing food onto me and slowly becoming more bold and shameless is a concept that i absolutely LOVE btw…. intox + feeders is something we should talk about more imo
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Jesus christ, did you hear the way her bloated ass squeaked through the door? I can't believe these people!"
Hell is, in fact, other people, Cass thought to herself. And working retail. Retail and people.
"Right? Like... I just can't imagine doing that shit to myself, let alone going out in public like that! This city is so fucking weird, I swear."
People and retail. Two shit tastes that taste shit together.
Perversely, though, it was her coworkers who made up the majority of her people-hell. For them, selling clothes to "women of enhanced proportions" was a job of last resort. It was all they could do to disguise their contempt long enough to actually sell anything.
For Cass though...
"E-excuse me, Miss?"
Cass snapped back to reality like an overtaxed waistband, turning to face the timid voice.
"Hello! How may I help you?"
Then again, it's not -all- bad, she thought.
The first thing Cass noticed about the woman attached to the voice was that she was round. While Cass was well-versed in noticing the roundness of women, in this case, the fact of her curvature was wholly inescapable. In a store with deliberately wide and accommodating aisles, she was nearly brushing the racks of clothing on either side of her. With much-practiced effort, Cass stopped her eyes from lingering on any of her customer's features for too long: her swollen arms and legs, her conspicuously pneumatic breasts trapped under a comically small, straining blouse, over which her puffy-cheeked face peered with great effort...
... her taut, bloated, ballooned body, with her belly exposed...
I love my terrible, awful, no good, very bad job.
"Ah... I m-may need some a-assistance in the changing... mmroom..."
Cass finally noticed the clothes dangling from hangers in the woman's pudgy hand.
"Of course. Please follow me this way..."
-
The journey to the changing rooms took a good ten minutes. The customer could only ambulate by tottering slowly from one foot to the other, sometimes rocking slightly across the lower aspect of her nearly spherical body. Such a sedate pace was hardly unusual, especially amongst those who had yet to develop comfort with their inflated forms. Regardless, Cass did her best to be welcoming and fill the time with would, in any other circumstance, be considered "small" talk.
"I hope it's not too forward of me to say that something about you seems familiar," Cass said. "Do you shop with us often, Miss..?"
"A-alexandria," the woman replied. "Th-this is my first t-time here, actually."
Inwardly, Cass reveled in Alexandria's stutter. It might be that she was nervously debuting her inflated form in public... but it was equally possible that she was just inexperienced. "Nooballoons," as Cass thought of them, often had trouble speaking due to the fundamentally overwhelming sensation of being inflated to capacity. They tended to feel like they might pop at any moment, and so they stayed tense constantly.
Either way, it's toooooo cute.
"Well, Alexandria, let me be the first to welcome to our humble boutique. We're very happy to have you," Cass said. "Have you found what you're looking for?"
"I think so? R-really what I nnneed is a whole new w-wardrobe," Alexandria mused.
"We can certainly help you with that. I don't wish to be rude, but I did find myself wondering if your present state of dress represented a deliberate statement of fashion, or if perhaps desperate times had called for... insufficient measures?" She stole another glance at Alexandria. She was, technically, wearing jeans and a blouse, but they were failing to contain her inflated form. Both were so tight that no wrinkles could be seen in the fabric, even as she waddled. Miraculously, stretched to their limit as they were, neither had lost a button.
Either way, you look so hot.
"Hmmhmmmm," Alexandria laughed, as if too violent a vocalization might make her explode. "The s-second one. I mmmay have... overdone it a l-little."
Cass bit her lip, but only for a moment.
"Ah, here we are. Let me get the doors for you..."
The changing rooms were equipped with wide, sliding doors to accommodate the full range of customers they served. Cass gave her swollen patron an exaggeratedly appraising look, and then made a show of sliding both doors as far as they would open. She got the sense that the woman in front of her might enjoy the implication that she needed that much space.
With the chosen clothes hung on the wall and the doors closed and secured, Cass turned to examine her charge. Something seemed a little off.
"I do not wish to be presumptuous, Alexandria, but have you gotten larger?"
Please say "yes"!
"Mmmit's p-possible. L-like I said earlier, I believe I may have gone a bit overboard w-w-with my umm," Alexandria trailed off.
"Pneumatic enhancement?" Cass offered.
"Y-yes, right. Will that b-be a problem?"
"Not at all, Alexandria. Not unless you're in a hurry, that is."
"I'm nnnot sure I could be even if I wanted to."
"Well, for future reference, we can offer a personal shopper service at no additional cost to you. All we ask is that you call ahead to let us know you're on your way. It might help expedite your next wardrobe update."
"I'll b-be sure to take you up on that," Alexandria replied. "Actually, if it's n-not too much trouble, I m-may, uh... that is..."
"You'll need help trying on your selections, of course. If you're ready to begin, may I assist you in undressing?"
What little she could see of Alexandria's face was bright red. Working with inflated women was a strange dance, Cass reflected. While some simply preferred to live round lives in round bodies, for many, being a balloon was inherently a form of sexual expression. Cass had no shortage of clientele for whom shopping for new clothes carried an undeniably erotic charge. A charge which, for better or worse, Cass herself also felt. Professionalism was, therefore, tricky for her to cling to. Neither she nor her patrons could openly acknowledge that what developed between them was, in many instances, tantamount to sexual intimacy.
But we both enjoy it so... it's probably fine, right?
"Mmmm y-yes, please," Alexandria answered, "b-but I may n-need just a moment..."
"Of course, we can take all the time you need," Cass said. "Is something wron-"
A small pop was heard as the fly of Alexandria's terminally stretched trousers snapped open.
"Ah, I see," Cass grinned as she watched seams begin to fail across Alexandria's outfit. "I guess you didn't need much help undressing after all! You'll be wanting to wear one of your purchases out, then?"
"Qu-quite," came the embarrassed reply.
I'm going to remember today. For. Ever.
"It's a good thing you didn't try to wear a belt, Alexandria. It can be very tricky to remove one from someone in such an advanced state of..."
"Pneumatic enhancement?" Alexandria offered.
"Exactly. You wouldn't believe how many balloons don't know better."
"B-b-b-" Alexandria stuttered, this time in surprise.
"I apologize, was that presumptuous of me? Generally, when someone has relinquished so much of their mobility, they're referred to with such terminology..."
"... you're f-fine," came the eventual reply. "I w-was just surprised. I didn't r-r-realize my l-latest growth spurt was that b-big."
Good balloon, Cass thought.
Cass began peeling away the tatters of the Alexandria's former outfit. The balloon's skin was cool, and so very, very tight. With a light touch, Cass rolled Alexandria onto her back. Alexandria attempted to flail her stubby arms and legs, like all the newer balloons did.
Cass continued to remove torn fabric until her client was wearing only an extremely stretched out bikini bottom. She wouldn't be needing a bra. The big balloons tended not to.
"What would you like to try on first, Alexandria? Perhaps a top?"
"If i-it's not too mmmuch t-trouble," she replied, "could we start with the j-jumpsuit?"
Fuck yes we can, you beautiful, bloated balloon.
"Of course, Alexandria. Right away."
-
It wasn't until the garment was in place that the two women realized that there might be a problem.
"Is it t-too small?" Alexandria asked.
"Well, it's certainly proving difficult to button up," Cass replied. She was panting lightly from the exertion of trying to squeeze her client into the jumpsuit. "Of course... some balloons do prefer to wear clothing a few sizes too small in order to emphasize their, um... size. You could use one of our pre-distressed belts to complete the look."
"P-pre-distressed belt? I-is that a thing?"
"Yes, we offer sort of... long stretched-out belts with non-functional buckles. Altogether, it would look as if you had blown up until you exploded out of your belt and jumpsuit. It's a fairly popular way to style clothing that balloons have, technically, outgrown."
And that's hot as fuck.
Her client stayed silent.
"Alexandria?"
"Oh, sorry, I z-zoned out for a second," came the sheepish reply. "I-if it's alright with y-you, I'll keep this one, and m-maybe get a larger one that fits? Just t-to have the option?"
Yesssssssss.
"Of course, Alexandria. While we're at it, I'll fetch another one that's just one size too small? It will be a bit tight, and the buttons will gap, and if we pair it with a narrow belt to give you that 'squeezed' look, well... I'm sure you're aware that it's basically always considered fashionable for a balloon to look 'ready to blow', as they say."
"R-r-ready to..."
"Blow, yes. The idea is to sort of... embody the essence of the balloon's fullest potential."
"... w-well, who am I to s-stand in the w-way of fashion?"
-
Eventually, Cass got Alexandria buttoned and belted into a suitably-sized jumpsuit. While it was, in fact, large enough to fully ensconce the balloon, the two women had settled on leaving the top portion unbuttoned to Alexandria's navel. Some things are stylish no matter what shape you are.
"Thank you again f-for all of your help," Alexandria said.
"The pleasure is entirely mine," Cass replied, placing one hand delicately on the balloon's belly.
"I'm afraid much of the p-pleasure was mine, actually, b-but I'm in n-no position to argue," Alexandria fired back. Cass laughed.
I'm going to lose my damn mind.
"If you'd like, I can ring you up right here with one of our mobile terminals, and then arrange transport to your next destination for you? As happy as I would be to roll you away, I've got another few hours of my shift left."
Stop flirting with the customer, idiot, she chided herself.
"N-no need, actually. I've arranged for m-my own transportation. If you wouldn't mind doing m-me one m-more favor, my c-card is in my p-purse..."
"Not a problem at all."
Cass did her best to search the balloon's purse without accidentally snooping. Thankfully, it appeared to be fairly tidy, with the only clutter comprised of a few scattered business cards. She plucked out the first credit card she found and held it up for her client to verify.
"Is this the correct one?"
"Y-yes, thank you."
Cass held the card to the scanner. "I should be the one thanking you, Miss Alexandria... wait..."
"H-hm?"
"Your last name is... you're not... no way."
Cass reached back into the purse and withdrew one of the errant business cards.
"Oh my god, you are! You're Alexandria Dellaporta! Holy shit, I've had a poster of your mom on my wall since college! The one where she's modelling that one dress with all the scales and feathers and- uh, I mean- uh..."
Whoops.
Cass's thoughts washed away in a tide of forgotten decorum. She cleared her throat.
"... that is to say, we're grateful for your patronage, Miss Dellaporta. I do hope that my outburst hasn't tainted your experience of our boutique too much."
"N-not at all. In f-fact, please feel f-free to hold onto that business c-card. My mother's magazine will b-be changing d-directions soon, so to s-speak. If you know of a-anyone who might b-be able to help choose and s-style the clothes I'll be mmmodeling, have them g-give me a call."
Is she suggesting...
"I c-can't promise it'll b-be fantastic or g-glamorous, but I'm s-sure it's better than, s-say, retail."
... no way...
Something in Alexandria's purse buzzed vigorously.
"Ah, that w-will be my ride. I'm s-sorry to ask for y-yet another favor but, c-could you p-possibly, um... roll me t-to the entrance?"
"Of course, Miss Dellaporta! Pardon my touch," Cass blurted. She placed her hands on the balloon and began to push her toward the entrance.
"P-please, 'Alexandria' is fine. I-it's not like I'm y-your boss..."
iiiiii’ve thought about the idea of you trying on clothes while the two of us are out and about, taking your time till you ended up filling up the dressing room and us being kicked out,,,,
And now I'm thinking about it, Anon 🥵🥵🥵🥵
They'll have to kick my fat, blue ass pretty hard to get me out of there, though...
What are some of your favorite, underrated aspects or tropes with blueberry inflation?
I MISSED THIS OH MY GODDDD but idk if this counts as underrated! But I love how with berries any amount of romance or intimacy becomes a whole task at most sizes.
Hugging someone who’s only just sort of barely round has them struggling to bend their arms across their middle to return the gesture. Trying to kiss your berry partner means you have to roll them forward first, their feet and hands flapping anxiously out of habit since they’ve got no control. Teasing your partner and watching them get all turned on and having them practically beg to be rolled over and fucked!! Just the fact that every little task requires so much effort on someone else’s part just is kinda really hot! Idk if that counts but i hope you get what im saying here.
Spoiled puppy girl feedee who gets upset if she isn’t getting your attention, barking at you and petulantly getting in the way of everything until you acknowledge her. Using her weight to get in your way, sitting in your lap or lying on you to keep you from getting up. The only way you actually can manage to keep her at bay is feeding her until she can’t get up, leaving her pinned beneath her gut while you get up and actually go about cleaning the house! At least until she digests just enough to waddle after you… and that’s assuming all the whining and barking for belly rubs doesn’t have you cave first.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Thoughts on blob shaped blueberries? Especially if they’re juiced permaberries with enormous apron bellies and sagging fupas…? 🥴
Okay so either this is the same anon sending Peak Berry Stuff or a Series of Different Anons either way these are splendid!!
And admittedly with berries I prefer round shapes more often than not, but that’s not to say I’m against pudgy blob-adjacent berries too!! Just part of the appeal with berries is the soft spheres and how that specifically impedes mobility and totally changes the approach to life in I guess the closest I’ll get to being into TF sort of way.
Anyway all that is to say I do fw blob berries! Just more often than not I’ll trend towards rounder shapes for them. That said it is really fun to imagine that, between the constant growth and shrinking from being juiced and all that sugar being turned to fat, a berry ends up soft and tubby after their juicing! Some can just bear to waddle about, finally able to bend their knees (if only a little!) as the huff and feel their bellies pull them forward.
Other berries just sort of carry that juice in a way that resembles fat! Becoming a berry is never a one-size-fits-all situation, and some end up less spheres and more massive piles of juice-filled blubber! Just as immobile, sometimes more so considering rolling them isn’t quite so easy. Just massive, blue, lap filling tummy, immense hips and thighs that never stop touching, chubby cheeks and wobbly arms, and a fupa that totally buries their cock or hides their pussy! Just means getting them off is gonna be a chore, and regardless of how much they beg they’ll just have to hope someone is willing to put in the effort <3
Also huge fupas are peak and they are the second most necessary location for my head to be located, second only to between someone’s chubby cheeks as a dote on them with endless kisses thank you have a wonderful day
