15thdevil

[15thdevil]

Chubcornee had some of the best man boobies ever. Wish he would start posting them again 😩

[15thdevil]

Chat, I'm 4'11" and my baby daddy is 6', am I cooked or no?

(Jae's pronouns are they/them)

Psst, nude version under the cut teehee

[15thdevil]

[15thdevil]

@keanusnoww / @thiccjedii on twitter

[15thdevil]

[15thdevil]

[15thdevil]

Unspoken - 2 of 2

Charles Watches Me Grow

Read Part 1 here.

A month later, I was home alone, staring at my reflection and playing with my new belly. I couldn’t believe how amazing I looked. I’d always wanted an actual, honest-to-God belly, and now here it was, bulging out of my too-tight pants.

I hadn’t planned to play with my fat for so long. I merely wanted to get dressed. But after buttoning my pants, and seeing how much I bulged out of them, I needed a moment to take stock of myself.

Logically, I knew that my weight gain had been gradual over the last few weeks, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like I went to bed skinny and bloated and woke up fat and soft. I knew that wasn’t how weight gain worked, but that’s what it felt like.

I was pinching the fat at my sides when Charles walked in with shopping bags in his hands. “Ryan!” he said casually.

I awkwardly let go of my fat and turned to face him. This was it. He’d caught me. Now we had to talk about it.

He sat on the bed, placed the bags at his sides, and said, “I got you some presents.” Then he pulled out a pair of jeans.

“You got me new pants?”

“And shirts. And shorts.”

I hurried over, feeling my stomach wobble a little, and grabbed the jeans from his hand. I immediately looked at the tag. My current pair, the ones squeezing into my new muffin top, were 28s. These were 32s. My heart raced.

“The weather’s warming up, so I thought you needed some new outfits.”

“And is that the only reason?” I asked, challenging him to tell me to my face that I’d outgrown my other clothes.

“Yup. No other reason.” So we still weren’t going to talk about it.

God, that was so hot.

I pulled off my pants, feeling instant relief, and tried on the new pair. They were quite comfortable. And a little loose. I wasn’t big enough for 32s yet.

“I think I need a belt for these,” I said.

“For now,” he answered with a smile.

***

Charles and I walked on the boardwalk hand-in-hand. It was my birthday (August 6), so we’d gotten a hotel at my favorite beach.

The ocean breeze felt wonderful on my skin, though that didn’t stop me from sweating terribly. My flower-print shirt was plastered to my back and belly.

We stopped in the shade because Charles could tell I was overheating. “Arms up,” he said.

I didn’t understand what he wanted, but I obeyed.

He pulled off my shirt, allowing my soft, sweaty gut to flop out. Since I’d transitioned from fat to obese, I hadn’t been shirtless in public before. Part of me was scared, but another part of me felt so excited to show off.

He crumpled my shirt in his hands and literally squeezed out the sweat. (Gross, right?) Then he put it in his backpack, along with all my snacks. “Feel cooler?”

“Uh huh.”

He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and squirted it into his hands. Then, with a sly smile, he rubbed my shoulders.

“I don’t know why I’m so sweaty today,” I said, once again challenging him to mention my weight gain.

“Yeah. That’s strange.” He reached my moobs, where he rubbed circles of cream around them. That gave me chills. Then he squeezed more into his hands and got to work rubbing my belly. He looked into my eyes. I looked into his.

“I wonder why we’re running out of sunscreen so quickly,” I said.

Charles made sure to rub some into the fold across my belly button. He had to squeeze out some more for my lower belly. “We can always buy more.” He took an extra-long time rubbing my overhang. He obviously just wanted to play with it.

In the middle of the boardwalk.

With dozens of people rubbernecking as they passed.

“Turn, please. I need to do your back.”

I did as he said.

He wiped down my back, reaching between the folds, and then gave my ass a loving pat. “All done, Ry.”

We started walking again. Without the cover of a shirt, everyone stared. I was keenly aware of how much I jiggled now, how my hanging belly shifted from side to side with each step.

When we passed by an ice cream stand, Charles stopped. “I think I want a cone.”

I knew he didn’t. He was going to order a triple-scoop, take one lick, and tell me he’d changed his mind. It was another one of our little games.

“Go for it,” I said. “None for me.”

He laughed.

***

I was watching TV on the couch when Charles tossed a box of Twinkies onto my gut as he walked toward the door. “About to go shopping. You need anything?”

“Nope. All good.”

“I noticed that your beige pants were ripped in the back. Bad quality, huh?”

“Yup.” It had absolutely nothing to do with me destroying them when I tried to bend over and pick up a two-liter bottle of Coke off the floor.

“I’ll get you another pair,” he said. “How are your shirts doing?”

All of them had gotten pretty tight in the last 20 or so pounds. The one I was wearing right now was getting absolutely eaten by the deep fold across my gut. “They’re bad quality, too, I’m afraid.”

He laughed. “Got it. Be back soon.” And he was gone.

I tore into the Twinkies ravenously, as if I hadn’t just eaten all that Burger King.

Now that I’d achieved the body that I’d always wanted (375 pounds and counting), I was starting to get annoyed by all our evasive comments. It wasn’t sexy anymore.

Charles and I spent so much of our time honoring my body. He fed me in bed. He gave me belly rubs when I was full. (Or sleepy. Or bored.) He squeezed my moobs every time I waddled into the house, as a sexy, little hello. He treated me like the supersized stud that I undeniably was, and yet he never said anything about it.

This little game we were playing should’ve ended 100 pounds ago.

I worked hard to grow myself. We both did. And now, I wanted more than anything to talk about it. I wanted him to give me demeaning nicknames, to ask how much I weighed, to praise me when I grew a stretchmark or busted out of my pants.

As I finished the last Twinkie, I told myself that today was the day to finally talk about it. When he got home, I’d be direct.

A few hours later, he was back. He noticed the four empty Twinkie boxes on the coffee table. (Once I had one, I couldn’t stop.) He set down the shopping bags and gathered up all my Twinkie trash. Didn’t say anything about it, of course.

When he returned, he said, “Okay. You wanna try on your new outfits?” He didn’t wait for my response before he pulled off my shirt. He glanced proudly at the rolls spilling across my lap and over my sides.

“I wanna tell you something first,” I said.

“Oh?"

I looked him in the eyes. Serious. Direct. No going back. “Charles, I got fat.” This was the first time either of us had said the F-word.

His face was blank for a long time. Then he let out a huge sigh. “Jesus, Ryan. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for us to just talk about it. Playing coy was hot at first, but… Enough is enough.”

He felt the exact same way I did.

And now that the band-aid had been ripped off, he could finally tell me what’s been building up inside him. “Ryan, you are so fucking gorgeous. I feel like the luckiest guy alive to have all of this…” He grabbed my love handles and jiggled, causing my whole belly to flop. “All of you… You’re more beautiful every day.”

“I know,” I said.

“And now I can finally ask…”

“375,” I blurted out. I knew what he was going to ask.

He whimpered. Then he crawled onto me and kissed me with more passion and excitement than he ever had before. His hands squeezed and pinched and jiggled me.

He loved me just as much as I loved him, but we didn’t need to say it. We could leave that part unspoken.

The End.

[15thdevil]

being autistic means that people will get mad at you for something you don't understand and they actively refuse to tell you why :)

[15thdevil]

husband beach doodle.

and him and his husband LOL

[15thdevil]

[15thdevil]

[15thdevil]

Fat Body Types 101

The Pear, always adorable in women, less common among men but still no less spectacular in the eyes of discerning connoisseurs such as the followers of @doublebellyman!

[15thdevil]

Child bearing hips❤️❤️

[15thdevil]

From a football player to a young superchub politician in less than 10 years

2013 = 80 kg

Started gaining weight in 2016

2021 = 195 kg

2025 = 241 kg