chuboi

[chuboi]

[chuboi]

Here's BC Ash her hardest video to find.

[chuboi]

Omg 🥵

No matter what I do, I don't seem to be gaining weight

It's getting harder and harder for me to walk, but I still look as thin as always

baby what am I doing wrong? I'm so hungry

[chuboi]

Gained like 20lbs in a month and a half, can I reach my goal and gain another 90-120 this year??

[chuboi]

Omg, I gained like 3 pounds last week!

Hopefully I can gain 3 pounds every week from now on 🥴🥵

I need a feeder who is going to blow me up, dms open :)

[chuboi]

Model : ssbbw Adeline

[chuboi]

Yes

🚨 If you Like, reblog or comment this post 🚨

- That means you have absolutely no limits

- You will grow as fat as possible for your feeder

- let them feed you into a food coma at all times

- let them be your personal nurse / caretaker so they can take care of your every needs

- and most importantly, you'll only have one goal for the rest of your life : to swallow everything in sight and become the biggest, fattest, lard ridden Piggy to have existed 🐷🩷

[chuboi]

/u/may_flower33

[chuboi]

Bbw_viki_vienna

[chuboi]

Omg me and who

Entering your bedroom is always a pleasure for me. You spend all your time in bed. I walk in and you can never see me over the bloated belly that traps you on the mattress. You know who it is, but you still have a slight sense of terror at the rare possibility of a stranger walking into your room.

Normally I'd be wearing heels, and you could hear the familiar click of my pace across the floor. I've been visiting you a few times now (as a volunteer for giving company to shut-ins), and now go barefoot in the house, so my approach is more silent.

Your fat bloated hands reach down to your belly. You can't even reach all of it, but you rub vigorously what you can reach. A wet burp escapes your gullet as you are still digesting your breakfast. Normally your cheeks would turn red with embarrassment and you'd apologize profusely; even as a second burp erupted. But, by this point, you've noticed that it doesn't bother me.

I walk to your side, just so you can see me. You smile and say, "I suppose it's lunch time?"

You loved eating. Food was erotic for you. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't judge. I smiled back and replied, "what would you like today?"

Usually there were groceries delivered, and healthy options in your cabinets and refrigerator. But you had consumed all that... as quickly as possible, almost on purpose so you could order more fattening food. You had a mischievous grin on your face as you said, "Well, I know there's not much in the house... so take out?"

I tried to hide my smile. It was my job to help you; to make sure you made healthier choices. But, I secretly loved how fat you were. The idea of you growing bigger turned me on, so I enjoyed this change of plans.

You pulled up a menu on your phone. I saw your fat fingers moving quickly as you added item after item to your cart. I should have stopped you. I should have told you: only one meal. But my silence was consent. You put your phone down and said, "It should be delivered within the hour - could you grab the bags for me when they arrive?"

Hearing bags, plural, made me look forward to the feeding frenzy that I knew was inevitable. You were so fat already; you must have an otherworldly appetite.

I never got a front seat to your binging before; no doubt because you usually preferred to eat alone. I almost expected you to ask for privacy when your huge lunch arrived, but I secretly hoped you wouldn't.

While we waited I sat next you in a chair beside your bed. The conversation was mainly small talk and I could see the increase in nervous excitement as the time passed and your food was on its way.

Your phone chimed. Grabbing it with excitement, your fat hand almost dropped it, but caught it before it fell to the floor. You hiccuped and then said, "It's been delivered. The side door."

I got up and made my way to that door. There were five large bags of take out and pizza boxes. I was shocked. It was going to take at least two trips to bring the food into your room.

I placed the first two bags on the chair next to you, turning around the grab the last 3. It was less than a minute when I returned with the rest of it, and you had already dived into the bags on the chair. Your mouth was full when you saw my expression of surprise. Your chewing slowed, then you swallowed and said with a hint of desperation, "I'm sorry, I was just so hungry."

I knew my response would be the difference between being able to stay and watch you stuff yourself, or being asked to give you privacy. I thought quickly and said, "Don't worry. I'm glad you're enjoying your food."

You smiled... just the response you wanted. Your fat hand reached into a container of mozzarella sticks. You grabbed the marinara sauce and placed it on your belly. Each time you dipped a stick in the sauce it overflowed and left blotches of red on your bare skin. I reached over to a paper towel roll beside your bed just out of your reach. For a second you stopped eating, your eyes curious about what I was doing.

I grabbed a piece of paper towel, stared you right in the eyes, and sensually licked it. Then I reached towards your belly, lifted the sauce container and cleaned the marinara that had spilled all over you. I couldn't glean from your facial expression what was going through your mind, but you let me clean you and then continued to eat.

It didn't take long for you to get through a full serving of mozzarella sticks, twenty-five Buffalo wings smothered in blue cheese dressing, onion rings, garlic bread, two large pizzas; and for some reason, a salad. Watching you consume all that food was such a turn on that I spent most of the time trying to hide the arousal I was experiencing.

There were a few things I noticed during your stuffing... you became messier and messier as you ate; you burped often, rubbing your belly firmly to almost force the burps out. You mumbled something in the middle of your meal while you were pushing a belch out of your stomach and I didn't hear it. But I realized what you had said later on... that you "were making room."

I began cleaning up. Grabbing the empty take out boxes and putting them in the empty bags. You were in quite a state: covered in sauce and crumbs. A messy, gluttonous fat man. But you weren't embarrassed. I was grateful for that.

I walked the trash out to the kitchen, then grabbed more paper towels. This time I wet them in the sink... I don't think I could ever create enough saliva to wet the towels enough to clean you adequately, despite how erotic you seemed to think it was.

I could hear you moaning in your bedroom. An occasional wet burp was all that could interrupt the sounds of pleasure escaping from you.

I came back into your room. Your eyes were glazed over with the inevitable food coma that eating enormous quantities of calories causes. You barely even looked at me as I began to clean the crumbs and sauce from your breasts and bloated belly. But you felt me rubbing your body with the wet paper towels, and you groaned again. Your fat hands reached down towards mine which were engaged in cleaning you up. I noticed that they were covered in food as well, and I held each hand as I wiped the food from your fingers.

Wet burps continued to erupt, and I took it as an opportunity to get closer to you. Your fat hands were massaging your belly as you lapsed in and out of consciousness. So I took the initiative. I reached out and began to massage your girth. You moved your hands away to give me room. I essentially dived in. You were so large that I couldn't rub your belly adequately from the chair next to you. I stood and leaned over your impossibly fat body. My thin hands began to explore every inch of fat. I gently ran my nails perpendicular to your extensive network of stretch marks. I felt your body shiver and buck with excitement. Your stomach was hard as a rock. You wouldn't think it would be noticeable under hundreds of pounds of belly fat; but the sheer amount of food you consumed made it noticeable. I firmly rubbed the fat over your stomach, copying what you were doing when you burped out the statement that you were "making room".

You were in and out of consciousness still, but managed to mumble statements of pleasure as you felt me exploring your huge body.

At this point, I couldn't resist. I made my way to the end of your bed. You tried to lift your head, to see what I was doing. But your belly blocked any view you could have. I crawled up between your legs... and to my surprise you lifted your belly. Your hands reached as far as they could and gripped the sides of the obese curtain of fat that covered your groin. I reached out and lifted what you couldn't. Then I saw what was hidden under your belly. A huge pad of fat that had an indent where your penis should be. I dug my small fingers into it and felt how hard you were. Your dick pulsed with pleasure and I wished it wasn't so deeply hidden and restricted from use. I tried to touch it; I wanted my mouth around it; but it was impossible.

You groaned again, "oh please, please fuck me."

I wanted to. I severely wanted to. But it was impossible. I retreated from your crotch and had to tell you, "It's not possible. There's too much fat."

I was shocked at your reaction. It wasn't disappointment. It was a turn on. You whispered to yourself, "oh my God, yes, I'm too fat to fuck. Oh, I'm so fucking fat...."

I didn't expect that. But it aroused me more than I knew was possible. Too fat to fuck... the ideal man.

[chuboi]

🔥

[chuboi]

I think it’s time this piggy gets a funnel 😈

[chuboi]

Yessss

Who wants to get SUPER obese? 🍕🍔🌭🍮🍩🍫🍦🎂😘

Reblog if you do.

[chuboi]

I want to be this big or bigger

That feeling when your not sure you can get up anymore🥵

[chuboi]

Me and whooo??

[chuboi]

I need a feeder who will treat me this way ^_^

I’m going to stuff you again tomorrow. It never stops. 🦄

[chuboi]

Omg

Julys Weigh In is posting 😝💕