Remembering When I Cut Off A Friend A Few Years Ago In College Because He Said "the Idea Of Consent Is

Remembering when I cut off a friend a few years ago in college because he said "the idea of consent is fucking stupid" followed by "why the fuck should I care if shes into it" (he was talking about throat fucking)

Uhhh idk dawg maybe because it's basic human decency AND consent is hot??

Like damn you want *me* to do these things to you? Youre into it and feel safe to do so? I've made such a good impression on you that you're choosing *me* of all people to do these things??

Fuck yeah bro that's awesome

Fatter

Imagine waking up before your partner. Your obese body, spread out under the sheets, skin warm in the morning sun. Imagine uncurling your pudgy arms, your pillowy legs, doing your best not to awaken them. Imagine trying to muffle the groan of the bedsprings, rolling over to your side. Feeling the mattress level out, slowly, as you rise to your feet.

Imagine your footsteps, measured and soft. Imagine watching your toes edge and dip beneath your big belly, your heels soft on the creaking floor. Licking your lips, stroking a hand across your waddling hips, your thighs brushing and brimming with jostling fat while you make your way to the door, gently and languidly.  

Imagine edging your way through the gap, turning, your butt thumping the doorframe and jiggling. Imagine looking over your shoulder, tossing your hair, seeing the criss-crossed piles of clothes on the floor. Yours, and theirs. That feeling of conquest, strutting around in one of their shirts. It’s lost to you now. You can only imagine burst buttons, and the scrape of splitting seams.  

Imagine the way to the kitchen. Steps that send your blubbery body into a constant crescendo. Fat, slapping on more fat, while you’re hunting for more food, to wake up fatter and fatter. Gone is the athlete you once were. Buried is the tone you used to show off at the gym. Your muscles, lost in layers of cuddly excess. Your eyes only see one thing as you catch a glance of yourself in the reflection of the window. Someone who has surrendered all control.  

Imagine tearing into breakfast without abandon. Imagine pancakes, and waffles, and toast and cereals, and carton after carton of milk. Imagine the look on your face when they see you, stuffed and naked, glutted and insatiable. Your stomach is puffed out. Your face is full. You’re yearning to be filled with more food, more fatness, more of everything…  

Imagine their hand, homing in on your middle. Their thumb, hooked in your bellybutton. Their finger, pressing under your burgeoning swell. Imagine the look in their eye. Seeing what a blimp you’ve become…

You’re going back to bed. And this time, you’re not getting up in a hurry…

it’s 3 am and i’ve just raided the fridge because i can’t get enough food to fill up this massive belly anymore

Yo if this post gets 50 notes I'll get out one of my winter guard costumes and post pics of me wearing it. Pretty sure I'm like 80lbs heavier since I last tried it on

i'm going to make you normalize those portion sizes. a few extra scoops is ok, right honey? until it's gone from a little extra to a lot extra, until the extra scoops equal a whole second portion that you don't even notice. surely that has to have an effect on your body. and it does, slowly at first, then careening into rapid growth that pads out your edges and leaves pounds of jiggling mass on your frame. i'm going to smirk and smile and heft the extra portion on your plate, and sprinkle extra cheese and sour cream on top, because i know just how you like it. i like to see you indulge. i like seeing what it's doing to you.

I bet they don’t know what a pig you are behind closed doors.

I bet they don’t know that you let your petite, sweet-as-pie girlfriend tie you up and pack you full of rich, greasy food and beer until you’re belching and moaning pathetically, throbbing for my touch.

I bet they don’t know that you go straight to the drive thru and order enough food for a family to messily stuff your face with as soon as you’re out of their sights.

I bet they don’t know that you’ll get on all fours for me and devour a cake face first while making all kinds of slovenly piggish noises, all at the snap of my fingers.

I bet they don’t know that you were touching yourself while you purposely stuffed your gut full right before you met them for dinner, already planning to order the biggest thing on the menu and abuse that gut some more.

I bet they don’t know that during every second of your conversations, the only constant thoughts running through the back of your mind are food, when you can eat again, what you’re gonna eat, getting fatter, getting too stuffed to move, and making your feedress proud.

I bet they don’t know that you like how tight your clothes fit you now, or how you had to desperately hide your arousal when you burst your button at dinner and then excused yourself to go feverishly masturbate in the bathroom, feeling the blood rush between your thighs as you fantasize about me feeding you even fatter.

I bet they don’t know that the cute, sweet, delicate girl on your arm at your office party is on a deliberate mission to intoxicate you, watch you slur and burp and stumble and embarrass yourself in front of all your coworkers, then drive you home, tease you, force you to drink more, and force feed you mercilessly later on until your poor overfed belly destroys all those fancy clothes you have on.

And I bet it all makes you so unreasonably excited. Imagine what they’d think if they knew what a desperate, horny, messy, obedient, greedy hog you are for me. How you want nothing more than to be my ever-growing, overfed, massive, dumb, full-time, personal hog.