small tits. big strap-on.

words can not describe how much i love ball guts. the kind where you can’t tell that they’re overweight until they turn around and you’re greeted by this ginormous sphere of fat. it just feels so greedy to me. you’re constantly stuffing yourself to the brim so now your stomach enters the room before you. the poor thing is riddled with vivid stretch marks, bright red and angry. they always have to tug down their shirt because it keeps riding up. it can’t cover that fat fucking blob protruding from their body. i have to squeeze my thighs together every time i see one. watching them struggle to get up. getting red in the face while they squirm around like a beached wall. i like making them ask for help. it makes me feral. the flushed look of humiliation because they’re too fat to get off the couch themselves. don’t even get me started on the love handles. . .

i like the little muffled burps people try and hide after they’ve eaten too much. the kind that tells you they’ve overindulged way too fucking much and now their stomach is punishing them for being so greedy. i like it when they shift around uncomfortably, tugging it makes me so feral knowing that they’ve made a fucking gluttonous pig of themselves, that they were so greedy their body was literally telling them to stop but it tasted so good that they couldn’t help it. there’s just something about teasing an overstuffed person. they’re too full and sleepy to properly protest so they just flush and stammer about how hungry they were. it’s fucking awesome.

i hope yall know that this is so much more than a kink to me, but that it’s also a celebration of how beautiful plus size bodies are.

feedees that are demanding brats about being stuffed. so eager to gorge themselves that they always end up overdoing it and end up not be able to move for the next few hours. so they lay around and whine while having you wait on them hand and foot. shoving their bloated belly into your space and demanding that you soothe their gurgling stomach. pouting to get their way. teasing you by walking around in clothing that’s several sizes too small and acting all coy when something rips because it can’t contain their mass >>>>>>>

“holy shit you’re fucking enormous.” i say in awe. it’s only been a few months since i’ve last seen you and a metamorphosis has taken place. you’re huge. belly ballooning past the band of your sweatpants, thick thighs pressing into one another, cheeks plump and rosy because your new diet has made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life. but it’s so embarrassing. every ounce of fat on your body is a testimony of how greedy you’ve been over the last week months. stuffing your face like pig. unable to satisfy the ache in your stomach. you shift, feeling warm under the weight of my gaze. tugging at your shirt you try and hide the evidence of your piggish lifestyle but to no avail, you outgrew the shirt you’re wearing weeks ago. your swollen gut hangs in the open for anyone to gawk at. “no, i’m not.” you say defensively. “it’s just a couple of pounds. no biggie.” embarrassment washes over you as i look at you incredulously with disbelieving smile on my face. “you’re out of breath just from standing up and walking to the door. just a couple pounds my ass.” is it shame that’s making you feel so hot? i’m not lying. you’re panting slightly from the exertion of pulling your rotund body from off the couch. it had taken more tries then you’d like to admit. your massive stomach pinning you against the cushions, preventing you from doing anything but reaching for the next greasy handful of food to stuff into your mouth. you wait for me to laugh at you. for me to point at you with disgust and ask what happened to you. it never comes. my gaze is hot and heavy. it makes you feel like prey under the watchful eye of a predator. you watch as i sweep over your living quarters, taking in the couch with that’s covered in fast food wrappers and empty soda cans. “that’s it?” there’s disdain in my voice. “that’s all you can fit inside of you?” you flush, dropping your gaze to the floor. “i got full.” you lie. it’s difficult to stuff yourself. it’s so easy to get drunk off food, to lose yourself in the momentum and get overwhelmed. you need someone to help you. it’s such an embarrassing thing to admit, but you do. an encouraging voice to command you when your brain gets all fuzzy from the food stuffed into your gut. someone to kiss away your whines and to rub your aching gut, pressing food into your mouth demanding that you swallow it. “you got full off of that?” i know you’re lying. “go sit on the couch.” your head snaps upwards and meets my gaze. you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “don’t get all excited, love. you’re not getting off that couch until i think that fat gut of yours is satisfied. so go get comfortable. you’re going to be there for a long time.”

nothing turns me on more than a desperate sub. eager to get off but even more eager to please. force to just sit and wallow in their own arousal. they’ll wriggle and squirm, all flushed and embarrassed by how much they want to get off. their cock/pussy is leaking and they feel so much like a slut but they just want for my command because they’re a good slut and good sluts do what they’re told <3

shy girls who become desperate sluts when you’re eating them out. im talking “blushes when you tease em” kind of shy. but the moment they get any kind of stimulation on their clit they turn into the prettiest lil whore. begging you for more and more because they wanna come so badly. getting so riled up that they start riding your tongue, and then sobbing when you pull away because they were so so close. yeah. i need one of those >>>

nothing sluttier than a sub that deepthroats a strap. like damn, slow down cockslut i promise it’s not going to run away from you.