Working On A Meal At Home And Hearing The Sounds Of Snacking From An Another Room Is Such A Great Thought.

Working on a meal at home and hearing the sounds of snacking from an another room is such a great thought. As if the tubbby couldn’t even wait for food to finish.

You can get a pre meal snack, it’s okay.

Okay, burping is just ~adorable~. I don’t know how it got considered gross or rude, but those people are wrong and have no taste.

The big, resonating belches after something carbonated, the tasty ones that slowly slip out in the late hours after a filling dinner, the little spritely burps as some cutie’s completely relaxed body starts moving again after the long nap after lunch; they’re all completely perfect. <3 <3 <3 

We hear a lot about succubi/incubi feeders, but what about succubi/incubi that feed off horny energy and wind up getting fat. And the fatter they get the more energy from their partner they have to feed off of…

WE GOT THE GREEN LIGHT YALL

Chastikey adaptations, struggling to reach, whimpering and begging, barely grasping the top before collapsing back from exhaustion, mean AND light teasing about not being able to reach, lifting the belly as a requirement for access, being told to eat more before they pleasure you, them needing to DIG to find it, humping your leg to create friction before getting too tired far before completion, requiring toys to reach, the toys dont help you reach anymore, buying a humping mat only to eventually have it not be enough, losing access forever so your partner just makes do with your rolls

RAAAAAAAAAHHHHH I NEED ALL OF THESE SUCH STORIES TO USE THIS PHRASE

Ideal man.

Fat.

Full.

Horny.

Lard locked (needs help to get off)

Ropes, chains, locked door?... Why would I need any of that? I'm already restraining you by holding you at your gluttony and lust. By the time you realize that you're nothing much than fattening livestock, you'll already be doomed. Your old thinner self will be permanently sealed in the fat prison of your new body. Any effort to dig it out only met with your jailer effortlessly making pile more flab on top. And how can you escape your jailer? You're already too addicted, from my words to my feeding and to my touch, you've become just another thing for me to lovingly dump calories in an grow forever more. But let's fantasize about your mind prying itself from my influence. My poor fatass, you won't be able to leave me then. Better than ropes is the stomach that's always full and begging to be fed more. Better than chains is the massive amount of lard I've piled onto you. Better than a locked door is a doorway too narrow you'll get stuck in, in the last moment your mind will be free... Before I push you back in, feed you more and you abandon yourself to pleasure and never come back.