We got some foooooddddd! I was hungry, "as per usual" so she says.

POV you’re innocently telling me what you ate today and I can’t hide how horny it’s making me 👀

New year and more midnight fridge raids! What should I stuff next time for a midnight “snack”?

🎂links🎂

Having fun staying warm this Friday morning 😜

Cheat Day

Derek was driving home after a particularly brutal workout at the gym. It was leg day, a day he never particularly looked forward to since it meant walking around on sore legs for at least a day or so. To reward himself on these days, he would always make leg days his cheat days for his strict muscleboy diet.

He wonders to himself what he’ll splurge on this time when a building catches his eye. Looks like a new doughnut shop has moved into town. Perfect, he thinks, as he turns into the parking lot. Not only will the treats surely be delicious, but he’ll also love the taste of the fatties getting upset when he posts his pigout cheat day online.

Honestly, Derek doesn’t even care for the sweets, he takes the most delight in their displeasure of him binging on something they know they shouldn’t have, due to their already exaggerated waistline. He talks about his plans to his gymbro on speakerphone while waiting in line to place his order.

He reaches the front of the line with a “see ya brah” to his friend while he hangs up. The owner overhears everything and was displeased with this cocky young man, but he didn’t let this show as he cheerfully asked Derek what he wanted.

“A half dozen of whatever,” he replies. The owner stuffs six of his favorite doughnuts in a box. As he’s setting it down he lets Derek know that he’s throwing a free one in on the house for their grand opening. “Make sure to eat this one first,” he says, Derek not thinking much of the semi-strange remark.

His haul of doughnuts in tow he heads home to indulge in his treats and take his shots ‘for the gram.’ He lays out in one of his deck chairs by the pool, the late afternoon sun bouncing off his golden skin. He lays the doughnuts out on himself thinking “yeah, that’ll really get 'em going.”

He grabs the first doughnut, the one the manager suggested. He can’t say why, but it looks really good, his mouth is watering for it. He takes a bite. The flavor rushes over him. It’s better than anything he’s ever tasted before. Like a thousand sugary treats hitting his taste buds all at once. In a second the first doughnut was gone. He reaches for another. Two become three in quick succession yearning for nothing else then to have another one of the unimaginably delicious treats completely fill his mouth. What he doesn’t notice is that the number of doughnuts on his chest never decreases, in fact, they may be increasing.

Unaware to him, his gym body is picking up some heft as he blows past his second dozen, but who’s counting? Doughnut after doughnut the world melts around him as his increasing hefty body is transported from his pool to his king size bed where he spends most of his life. His body increasing to take up the entire space.

His blood sugar is spiking due to his feast, not a good thing for a Type II Diabetic like himself, among the litany of other medical issues his gluttonous lifestyle causes. Derek passes out, another doughnut firmly lodged in his mouth, ready for him when he wakes up.

He had often joked about not being able to walk after leg day and this day in particular would not disappoint.

The scene at their house as they were taken out by emergency services after falling was surprisingly not the most embarrassing thought rattling around in their brain. Just hearing the numbers threatened to stop their already stressed heart cold.

992lbs.

You’d have thought the nine burly firemen it took to carry them out past the broken down wall, through their garage would have tipped them off. Of course they had to know they kept gaining after the scale at home stopped being able to weigh them, but the obfuscation of reality allowed them to hope in vain that it wasn’t this much.

Less than ten pounds shy of a thousand. Quadruple digits are of course constantly on the mind of a person so ruled by their fatty desires, dreaded as another milestone to their super morbid obesity. Confronting it was enough to seriously kick them into gear about turning things around, though they knew it was entirely too late… But it was going to be different this time. Different than all the other health crisisies and weight milestones that sent them into the same frenzy countless times before.

The diet lasted three days after getting home. Followed by the biggest all out binge of a week and a half of their life. They reluctantly and shakily hefted themselves on the extra capacity scale provided by the hospital intended to track their weight loss.

1,021lbs.

What should be a shock was a foolish relief. It happened. Then a moment later it’s already in the rearview mirror. Besides realistically what’s the next meaningful milestone? a ton? That’s inconceivable… well with them at least absurdly far away. Right?

I’m going to outlive my son. It’s the saddest realization for any parent, but it’s one I can’t deny anymore. See, my son is fat. No really, faaaaaat. Take whatever you’re thinking in your head and double it, heck triple it even and you’re probably still thinking too small.

His mother and I tried for years to get him active, to get him interested in the outdoors, sports, heck any physical activity, but the only physical activity he cared about were ones that ended in food.

We tried at first to guide him into making better decisions. Surely as he matured he’d realize that all the food and all the weight wasn’t worth it, but the gentle treatment didn’t work. We never wanted to be strict parents, but we decided that drastic measures had to be taken when he reached his teens with his weight still climbing. We rid the house of anything unhealthy and kept an eye on his eating like a hawk and he finally started dropping weight to our slight comfort.

Looking back now I see how short-sighted we were. It’s one thing to control your kid, but he won’t be a kid forever. At some point he’s going to need independence, a job, a car, all the facets of a normal adult life and hopefully someone to share it with. Out on his own he could eat as much as he wanted, when he wanted, especially once we found out his first job was not what he originally told us, but a job at one of the local fast food joints.

Slowly at first, but surely his weight started creeping up again. He’d bounce around between jobs depending on what cuisine he was especially feeling and how long they’d keep him on before realizing how much he was literally eating into their profits. We’d failed. Just like his youth anything he did was motivated by food. We were all out of ideas. Time passed by in this stalemate, the only needle moving faster being the one on our bathroom scale.

We had thought about kicking him out, but at this point I don’t think he could even live on his own. He had every weight-related medical condition in the book, every one a missed wake up call to turn back. Things that people in their 50s would start worrying about, not someone less than half their age.

Getting on disability took away the last reason for him to ever get off his copious ass, so it’s no surprise that his mobility vaporized shortly thereafter. Some days I wonder if he’ll see 30. It’ll surely be a miracle of medical science if he does.

I couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse the day I found his online persona, through the further I looked, the more I gravitated towards the latter. It finally made everything make quasi-sense, a reason for the way he lived his life, if you can even call it that, but it did so in such a disgusting, heartbreaking way. He catalogues his gains to a sadistic audience hungry to watch him blow up. He talks about how much he loves his weight, shockingly especially its side-effects, reveling in being out of breath simply from rolling over in bed. The post where he declared himself immobile is proudly pinned to the top of his page, racking up comments of support and congratulations from the people feeding into his addiction, both figuratively and literally with constant food deliveries I had long-assumed he had ordered for himself. It’s all so fucking disgusting, and it’s something I will never tell my wife, something I will take to my grave long after his.

As far as I’m concerned, he’s already gone. He was lost 100s of pounds ago. There’s no son in that void of a room, just a mound of flesh, endlessly growing until the day it doesn’t. Goodbye, son. I hope you really love all your flab like you say you do, because it’s all you got, and there’s a ton of it.

Want me to play with you like this? To slap that growing belly of yours? To jiggle your fat while reminding you how much you gained?✨

While you just lie there, stuffed to the brim, from all the food I forced you to eat.✨

You want this so much piggy, don’t you?🦋

Hey there

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