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zombelly · 3 hours
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so when you said you wanted to lock me in your evil science chamber for days on end and experiment on me until i go crazy did you mean like.. sexually? haha sorry if im misreading just got a vibe LOL
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zombelly · 3 hours
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hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back
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zombelly · 3 hours
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i love when a man is fresh of getting his ass beat. it’s like a pregnancy glow
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zombelly · 3 hours
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microscope life drawings - tardigrade and colony of Vorticella ciliates.
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zombelly · 3 hours
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Feeding as an act of love, feeding as an act of kindness, eating as an act of accepting that kindness, gaining weight as a sign of comfort, gaining weight as a sign of safety
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zombelly · 6 hours
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In honor of the 25th anniversary of spongebob, I wanna say that I have never seen a humanization/gijinka of patrick that I wouldn't let hit.
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zombelly · 6 hours
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zombelly · 7 hours
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What kind of feeder would I be if I cook for myself?
Chicken patty on a toasted muffin with olive oil mayo, tomato, onion, salt & pepper
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zombelly · 8 hours
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Drawing smut today~
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zombelly · 9 hours
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you're right; you're not big¹ enough for me²
¹ big in this case to be understood as breathlessly stuffed, full, round, heavy, fat, ect
² but we can work on that together
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zombelly · 9 hours
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give us this day our morning toke
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zombelly · 9 hours
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I want need to eat someone's bellybutton like it's good pussy
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zombelly · 9 hours
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I want to see your belly released from those tight pants and at that point I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself. I'd have to rub that red stained sensitive skin- feel the place just below your belly... Trace my fingers lightly along your shape until you're shivering with need and then...
i want to watch TV while you eat cookie after cookie until you're heavy with my baking and absentmindedly rubbing your bloated belly and I can't possibly pay attention to anything other than the blush on your cheeks and small gasps you make when you realize you need to unbutton your jeans and have to reach around that gut you've grown - blushing harder when you notice my eyes have been glued to your belly
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zombelly · 9 hours
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yo what the fuck is going on with my computer
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zombelly · 9 hours
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writing snippet based on true events
"Look what you've done to yourself," I whisper, grabbing you on either side of your thickened waist, eyes squarely on the round gut between us, "You got so fat."
"I.. I did?" I hear the whimper in your voice, the honey sweet waver- like you weren't aware of the hundred pounds you've managed to pack onto yourself since I'd met you.
I feel your breath quicken with the suggestion, your pupils large and reflecting so I continue with the thought. I feel myself getting wetter as I explain.
"Even if you tried to hide this," I squeeze and jiggle your belly oh so slightly, to emphasize my words, "your face, your neck," I lean into you and place a gentle kiss, "you're nearly unrecognizable".
"I did it because of you. All those years ago. When you told me to just eat when I'm hungry. Remember the pizza party?" Your hands run up and down your belly. I swallow thickly, your words ringing in my ears.
because of you
because of you
because of you
"So everytime anyone told me to cut back I thought of you and ate out of spite," Your voice breaks through my racing mind, "This is your fault. Your fault I'm this big, this fat, this heavy."
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zombelly · 10 hours
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I should be allowed to just say “I adore you” and “I love you” and “I want to keep you in my life for as long as possible” to my friends whenever I want without it being overbearing. I’m thinking it lovingly at people. I’m beaming my overwhelming affection into my friends via undetectable radio waves
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zombelly · 10 hours
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Thomas Moore's diary entry from December 15th, 1823:
"15th. Wrote a letter to Lord Byron, on his long silence to me; saying that I could not account for it unless it arose from 'one of those sudden whims against the absent which I have often dreaded from him; one of those meteor-stones which generate themselves so unaccountably in the high atmosphere of his fancy, and come down upon one, some fine day, when one least expects to be so lapidated; begging, however, if I am to be in the list of the cut dead, he will tell me so, that I may make my funeral arrangements accordingly.'"
Byron in a letter to Moore a decade prior:
"November 30, 1813. Since I last wrote to you, much has occurred, good, bad, and indifferent, — not to make me forget you, but to prevent me from reminding you of one who, nevertheless, has often thought of you, and to whom your thoughts, in many a measure, have frequently been a consolation."
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