When that 3am hunger hits 🐷
When that 3am hunger hits 🐷
Blubber pig on the bed 🐷🐷🐷
Check out the unedited vid ⏫
A growing hog is a happy hog 🐷🐷🐷
Piggy needs to groooowwww 🐷🐷🐷
Who wants the help make these stretchmarks grow? 😈🐷
So thin 😩
Story - You Don’t Want This
A superchub gives a cautionary tale of getting to your dream weight. (cw: health problems, extreme obesity)
I need to clarify some things.
I get so many DMs asking ‘oh man I wish I was your size’ and let me tell you right now, you really fucking don’t.
Maybe if I walk through my typical routine you’ll see what I mean.
I usually end up waking myself up from a choking snore. My mouth is so dry from hanging open (listen, when your chest is packed with fat on top it turns out it’s harder to breathe) so I get a gulp of the flat lukewarm soda can that’s probably at my bedside.
Fuck getting up, just sitting up is a bit of a process.
Step 1: Swing the leg closest to the bed as far to the edge as possible. This should feel exhausting.
Step 2: Rock back and then forth, using your other leg as a counter balance to shift the rest of your body to the side. This should feel exhausting.
Step 3: Take a big breath you fat fuck, this isn’t done yet. Try not to think about the sweat forming on your love handles.
Step 4: Use your arm closest to the bed to try and lift yourself. Do not use an open hand as it might over-extend it, instead use a fist and press against the mattress. It might take a few times because you’re roughly the weight of a walrus and half as strong.
Step 5: If you’re up, great! If not, you’ll try again in fifteen minutes when your stomach starts growling even louder.
Oh, and this might be obvious, but it turns out a body this size needs a lot of food, constantly. Very quickly you fall from ‘I should eat something’ to ‘if I don’t eat an ENTIRE chicken like from Gauntlet right the goddamn now I WILL die’ once you get this fucking big.
So just go to the kitchen, right?
Not so fast, tubby.
First you get to feel the incomparable combination of knee pain and back pain as you stand. It will feel like you’re lifting weights at their max because you fucking are, really. Wide stance, lift with your legs, hopefully you remember from that one time you went to the gym the last time you had that health scare. Sometimes you will actually think you can carry your gut with your arms and get your back some rest as you walk, but even if that made sense, sitting on your fat ass 99% of the time doesn’t really leave you with much arm strength, turns out.
I hope you freaks have watched enough superchub videos on xPorn or whatever to know how you have to walk with balance-wrecking sacks of lard surrounding you, but whatever you do: do not think about how embarrassing the waddle you gave yourself is, it only makes it worse. Don’t be afraid of leaning against the wall to catch your breath a bit, you don’t have to prove you’re in shape to anyone. (That ship sailed at least 300 pounds ago.)
(Sidenote: I don’t know how many of you idiots are already somewhere in fatass territory but want to take it even further, but you know that feeling where you’re breathing a bit heavy but try to hide it in front of people? Yeah, somewhere around when you get to that neck-blob-flopping-on-top-of-chest-fat weight you kind of forget about that level of shame, which is replaced with the shame of someone over voice chat asking if ‘you’re okay’ because your fat man mouth-breathing can’t help but be picked up over mic. Fuck, you can tell how fat I am from voice.)
If you managed to get to this weight, you’ve basically had one choice: stuff yourself with junk food to get there. There might be some people who say you can do it ‘correctly,’ but don’t trust those skinny fucks. Because of that, though, you grew a body with a binge eating disorder and a tongue that can only handle a vegetable if it’s fried. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, I’m just telling you the truth. So when you get hungry, you do what’s easy: this time it’s to throw a pile of frozen garbage in a pan so you can eat it all.
By this point, thankfully, you’ll be fat enough to put a rolling chair in the kitchen because fucking lord knows you spend enough time there. (My furniture expenses are way higher than they have any right to be. I should be spending my money on all the food I can barely afford, dammit!) You can keep your fat spoiled ass happy with a light snack of ‘ripping open a pack of oreos from the edge instead of the perforated top like a monster and shoving them in three by three.’
You’d think this is enough to make you feel full, or at least sated (like you even remember what that feels like anymore) but this is constant now. If you’re not snacking while making dinner, you’re guzzling something filling or setting a tub of something in front of you to empty. You became more fat than anything else, so it’s only fitting that you spend most of your time making all that useless flab happy.
This should feel exhausting.
I know a lot of you are still thinking ‘yeah but it’s so hot to be that big’ but I say speak for yourself, twink. (Now don’t you other fatties come yelling at me that you aren’t a twink. Trust me, I make you look tiny.) I barely even get to feel how ‘hot’ it is because I’m too busy being hungry. Plus, when you get to my size, jacking off starts to feel like it’s not worth the exhaustion or the calories.
And don’t go saying that this sack of lard I’ve eaten myself into is desirable to chasers. You guys talk a big game, but one ‘hey it’d be cool to get off maybe’ and they fucking ghost. When you go from land whale size to landmark size you stop being fantasy and start being disgusting, I guess. Forget ‘can you host,’ it’s more like ‘I’ll host because I don’t want to bother exhausting myself trying to find a tent shirt that still fits me.’ Not to mention I’m further limiting myself not just to chasers, but fucked up sadistic encouragers that are okay with watching this bariatric nightmare shovel donuts in his mouth in between gasps of air because he once thought it’d be ‘good for his gaining’ to associate eating with getting off.
I mean, I am asking a lot though. I can’t even imagine what it takes to dig through my thigh fat and my crotch fat and my belly-overhang fat and whatever other fat has grown there since and reach that buried little nub that remains. It doesn’t even sound worth it to be honest, what with a weak spurt the best that I can reciprocate with.
I really don’t think you want to be this size, trust me. Because the worst thing about it is that you’re going to want more. Even when you fucked yourself up and you can feel your heart pounding from just shifting your heavy body around, you’ll want to be buried just a bit further. It’s not going to stop.
So take it from me kid, stay small and enjoy being able to top someone, or being able to look down without a chin getting in the way, or being able to get off a couch without help.
Because you don’t want this, do you?
At the time, it seemed like the best idea in the world. Owen’s friend, Mutt, had been working hard in the gym and was looking so damn strong. He’d turned up to Owen’s twenty-first birthday party with a new girl on his arm; hotter than any of the many, many girls he’d dated in the past. His shoulders were pumped and he looked effortlessly handsome in a fairly loose fitting shirt that still perfectly draped over those new muscles. His arm was thrown lazily over his girl’s shoulders and he brimmed with a relaxed confidence that came with knowing how great he was looking – as well as from being with the hottest girl in the room.
‘I wish my body was like Mutt’s,’ Owen silently wished as he blew out his candles. He looked up at his cousin who had provided the very special candle in the middle of the cake. He hoped she hadn’t been pulling his leg. He knew that side of the family was strange, but this offer of a birthday wish was the first time he’d ever had any evidence of how weird they all really were. Still, what if it worked? That could be him, standing there, looking just as handsome. He could be the one with a hot girl by his side. Owen was so bored of being average. He wanted what Mutt had: the beefy 6’4 frame and bulging muscles.
“I hope you made a good wish?” his cousin smiled as she left.
Owen rolled his eyes, not wanting to commit to believing her. “I made a wish, yeah,” he nodded.
Your plump cheeks jiggle, full of mashed potatoes and gravy. You clench your thirst by guzzling down half of a 2 litre. On to the chicken. Crispy and greasy. Your fingers and hands coated in oils. You wipe it on your 6X sized shirt. You cram so much food into your mouth you can hardly catch your breath. You poke at your green beans but give in, you do need nutrients as well…
You finish off the 2 litre and start grabbing for the pan of brownies and a fork. You jab right into the middle of the pan and begin greedily making your way outwards. Moans escape your mouth as you chew and finish off the whole pan.
You lean back and rub your belly, practically as round as a beach ball. It hurts to breathe but you ignore it and reach over for a box of snack cakes and unwrap them one by one continuing your binge. As you empty the box you begin craving a drink. Milk. The thought of getting up fills you with dread but your craving won’t go away.
You lean up, your huge swollen gut filling the entirety of your lap and audible gurglings can be heard. Wrappers and crumbs fall while you try to get yourself to your feet. You wheeze trying to get up off of your bed and in a failed attempt you fall right back down. You’re gasping and panting determined to bring the whole gallon of milk to the bed. You try again and roll yourself over and swing your feet onto the floor. Pain hits your side from a cramp but you push up off the bed and stand. Now…to get the milk.
Lumbering towards the fridge the realization of just how heavy you really are starts to sink in. You wheeze and pant, your pendulous gut swaying back and forth with each step. Your thick blubbery thighs rubbing together causing friction and chafing. Your ankles already ache from just walking a few feet. You pop the fridge open, grab the milk, unscrew the cap and drain the ice cold drink down your throat. Your stomach almost seems to expand even bigger while you chug. Gurgling and groaning can be heard from your belly as you guzzle. Half a gallon gone. You cap the milk and head back to your bed.
You’re out of breath now. Walking alone has became a difficult task. You now face two choices, slow down on the binging and attempt to lose weight or be bedbound from your own gluttony. You don’t even think twice as you flop back into your permanent living space. The bed creaks with 680 pounds being on top of it. You know you can’t slow down. Besides, your feeder wouldn’t allow it.
They’ve gone too far to let you go back and your self control has been absolutely destroyed from years of binging and being a pig. Your reach over and grab a bag of chips to keep your mouth busy yet again.
As soon as you begin to drift off to sleep you hear the front door shut and your feeder walks in setting some bags down. “Ah I see someones been a good hog for me today.” They take off their coat and climb atop your swollen belly. “Are you hungry piggy?” They smile and reach into a McDonalds bag for a burger. “Mmmh-” You’re met with a sloppy greasy burger. You can’t stop or say no even though you’ve binged yourself silly all day.
“More.” They demand forcing more greasy burgers into your mouth. “I’m going to get you to seven hundred pounds by next month.” Their confidence and eagerness makes your cock twitch. “Keep going big boy…eat!” You chew as if your life depends on it and the food sits in your stomach, piling on top of the previous meal.
“You’re nearly immobile. This big gut of yours is going to be the anchor that holds you to the bed for me.” You love it when he vocalizes his plans for you. He presses into your tummy and wobbles it furiously. Another burger down. Your face is covered in grease and your chest covered in all sorts of crumbs from everything else you’ve eaten today and yesterday.
“My god pig, when is the last time you’ve washed yourself?” He brings a cup of soda to your lips for a drink. “Uhhh…” He crams another burger into your mouth. “Hush. Eat for me. No talking.” Chewing, you feel your cock growing erect. He knows just how to drive you wild and uses it for his own advantage. “I bet your puny little cock is ready to blow down there isn’t it?” He whispers lifting your mound of a belly up. “My god you can barely see it anymore it’s so buried in fat!” He teases. “Well it used to be a nice looking cock…now I’ve fattened you up so big it’s practically useless…among yourself as well.” You can feel him jiggling the pad of fat surrounding your dwarfed cock. “Hell, you wouldnt be able to sit up long enough to fuck! But I’ll do all the work for us…”
You feel his large hands pressing into your fat hips while he turns you over into position. “What a hog you’ve become!” He lubes your cock up and begins stroking through the thick fatpad. You can barely hold yourself up and you legs start to quiver. He smacks your wobbling ass and spreads it readying himself. “Ah right, can’t let piggy go hungry!” He sets the rest of the burgers down in front of your face and presses your head down. “I want all ten of these done by the time I cum hog!” You feel him enter you and your cock becomes fully erect as he fucks. “Eat!” He commands and you horf down even more salty greasy burgers. Your belly painfully full and your cock ready to blow you grow dizzy. He reaches around your leg and searches for your cock, it being buried under mounds of jiggling flesh. “Good piggy…keep it up…grow for me…” he jiggles your side rolls and slaps your ass again. “Oh god…fuck…” He moans. “That’s right…let yourself go hog! Can’t stop now! You’re almost bedbound!” He rubs between your legs feeling the fat build up between them. Your belly wobbles against the bed and you hungrily chew down on the last few burgers. “Mmf!” You need release. His cock is so hard its stretching your ass now. Swallowing down the last burger and letting out a monstrous burp you feel his hand stroking your cock. “Oh f-” There it is, throbbing and twitching he cums leaving you quite a mess. He wipes himself off and rolls you onto your back letting you relax. “Good pig, I know it’s hard bearing all of that weight…” He goes down between your knees and continues stroking you, squeezing your balls gently with his other hand. “You’re so fucking fat pig…I can barely find your cock and balls!”
Embarassed yet aroused your dick throbs and he jiggles your fat filled lardy thighs. “Yes…that’s it…blow for me big boy…” your face grows hot and your dick is ready to explode. “That’s it pigboy…I’m going to make you so helplessly fat you won’t even be able to reach yourself…” You’re wheezing and panting from the buildup. “Cum for me pig.” He demands. “You’ll be so goddamn fat your only option will be to lay there while I feed you and fuck you. You’ll be my piggy fucktoy-”
There it is. Sweet release. Throbbing and gushing you sigh and relax, your head spinning from the rush.
“That’s a good pigboy…now it’s time for another snack!”
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The life 💚
hey fatty, Or do you prefer piggy? fatty piggy? Fat pig? Disgusting useless pile of lard? I bet you dont care. As long as you are being called out for what you really are, it doesnt matter what anyone calls you huh? Well thats what you are, a lazy, fat, blob of lard destroying your young body with sweating oozing flab. And you love it dont you. You love waking up each morning, body bigger, saggier, softer and the you proceed to stuff yourself bigger. I bet you love destorying your health. After all the food tastes so good and you are so very weak. And the rest of your life will slip by as you keep stuffing and stuffing and stuffing that big sexy fat gut of yours as you get bigger and bigger and bigger. How big do you want to be fatty? 300? 500? I bet you told yourself “Just a few pounds more to see how it feels” and you never stopped. And you never will. Youll keep setting your max goal farther and farther back cuz youre weak to it. Youre already doomed to a life of fat. So just give in. Give in and gain to the end. Become massive. Become lazy. Become useless and fat. Its what you were born for piggy. And you love it dont you?
“Just look at yourself. Look at what a fat fucking pig you’re turning into…”
It might be time to make the push for 450. What do you think? 🐷😈
What the fuck is happening to me 🥵💦🐷