drocprboii

[drocprboii]

Obligatory Tummy Tuesday post.

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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

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Taco time! 🌮 Commission for anthonyhuscub on Insta

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eating then getting stoned because I’m stuffed and then eating again because I’m stoned and then getting stoned again because I’m stuffed and then eating again because I’m stoned and then getting stoned again because I’m stuffed an-

[drocprboii]

Yes, I still been eating good. ☺️

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You don't ever get used to being fat. It doesn't ever become your new normal. You might learn to accept it or learn to deal with it, but it never fades into the background.

You can buy new clothes to alleviate the strain around your waist, but you can't escape the weight.

You will feel it when you wake up. You'll go to sit up and realize, oh yeah, I'm too heavy to do that without using my hands to push myself up. You'll go to stand up out of the bed and realize your feet still ache from yesterday. You begin to take a step towards the shower and you feel every bit of you begin to jiggle and bounce.

For some reason, just walking from your bed to the shower, you are waddling. You're trying to be light on your feet but you are failing. Every step is awkward now. The fat on your thighs prevents your legs from smoothly passing by each other, causing each leg to slide a bit more outwards in your gait than they did yesterday. The bouncing fat, every pound of it, messes up the natural rhythm of your walk.

You stand in the shower for only a few minutes and your lower back is starting to get warm. It's not the hot water. It's your massive belly pulling it down. You realize you need to hurry up and get out of the shower so you can have a seat because you aren't sure how long you can stand anymore. You contemplate ordering a shower chair.

You huff and puff as you put on socks and shoes, the laces nearly impossible to reach. This happened once before, you lost the ability to tie your shoes, but you adapted. When you could no longer bend over at the waist and tie them, you realized you could just sit down and put a foot up on a knee and you could still reach your shoes. But that is getting to be quite difficult now with your growing belly. You're struggling to reach your laces at all, even with your foot on your knee. You've got to exhale and hold your breath through the whole process. You wonder how you're going to tie your shoes a year from now, but you don't worry about that. You're hungry.

Out of breath from putting on shoes, you waddle to your car and struggle to slide your heavy frame into the seat. The car seems to be shrinking. The steering wheel closer. The door and the center console are getting snug on your hips. Where is the other end of the seat belt anyways? You question as you pull it to it's maximum length. You lift your belly to allow the belt to slide underneath, as it wouldn't make it all the way around. You breath a sigh of relief! Finally you are seated again and you can catch your breath.

You start heading to your favorite fast food restaurant and on the way you feel every bump in the road, magnified by the rolling waves of your own obesity. You feel your tits resting on your belly. Your belly resting on your thighs. Your thighs spreading into the sides of the car. But most of all, you are hungry! All of that struggle to get to the car and you've worked up quite an appetite.

Every bit of you feels fat, bloated, soft, encumbering. You assumed that, after a while, you would get used to being bigger. You were wrong. You will be reminded of what a fat whale you've become every second of every day from here on out.

Your train of thought is broken by the drive thru window opening. "How many sets of utensils do you need?"

"Just one", you reply.

[drocprboii]

A little glimpse into my not-so-distant future 😏

Burger binging bear. 🍔 Patreon sketches for drocprboi and anthonyhuscub on Insta

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Rotund-ish.

[drocprboii]

Reblog to gain 50 lbs within the next 6 months!

Now go eat until you can't see passed your swollen belly, pig. 🐽

[drocprboii]

This is Bearguy91, I remember when I was first getting into the gaining scene that he was one of the first guys I found and I was obsessed with him. I had never really known anyone that was anywhere close to 400 pounds and he took that reality and shifted it on its head. My favorite picture of him is definitely him in his green shirt. Just the way his belly is hardly covered and how happy he looks is amazing. He really embraces his body and I find that awesome for him.

[drocprboii]

So You’ve Decided to Become a Gainer

So you’ve decided to become a gainer.

This is you now. A 170 pound 20 year old man. Lean. Fit. Curious. And boy are you hungry.

It starts by obsessing over other men’s weight. You notice every change in men’s bodies. Your father has put on a beer gut. Your college classmates start wearing sweatpants all the time. Their lovehandles pop out in shirts. The skin around their flat stomachs becomes soft and plump. No change in weight is too small or subtle. You notice it. And you want it. 

You research it. Google “how to get fat on purpose.” “Best ways to gain weight.” “Highest calorie foods.” “Men who gain weight.” “How to gain weight fast”.

Get erect. All this excites you. And you know you need it. One day, the decision is made. You will get fat on purpose. You will force your body to get as big and plump and bloated and chubby and saggy and puffy and fat as you want. It will never be enough but at least it will be something. That day, you overeat intentionally. An extra burger from McDonalds. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s. A six pack of beer. You are stuffed and satisfied and horny. You jerk off that night feeling your bloated gut. You love the sensation. You must do this again and again and again. 

The first 10 pounds comes easy. You barely need to try. A little here, a little there, eat like a man. Finish an entire large pizza to yourself. Ice cream after. And beer. Your pants get snug. You fill out a little bit. No one notices. But you noticed. And now you realize how much more you’ll need to feel anything. This is not enough. 

190 pounds. 

No longer thin, but not noticeably fat. Just a little soft. Some call you beefy. You’ve been exploring more ways to gain. Drink a gallon of whole milk a day. You can barely move after. You push your gut out as far as it will go. The pressure is incredible. The liquid sloshes in your belly. Hard to go to the gym this way, so may as well stay home and snack. 34in jeans fit better now. You’re liking the bloat. Decide to keep it bloated every day. If you can eat until you’re stuffed bloated every day, surely you will gain weight fast. And you do.

200 pounds. 

These first thirty pounds have happened so easily. Too easily? You don’t feel like it’s any different. But it is. You are softer all over. You hate cardio and never jog anymore. Large shirts hug your budding belly. People can see your deepening belly button through your shirt. You always clean your plate, out of habit now. People offer you food, knowing you’ll never say no. You are a big guy now. He’s a beefcake. “hey big guy.” The other guys call you “thicc” and “meaty.” But you want more than that. And you will get it. 

215.

Eggnog chugs. Boost chugs. 12 packs of beer. Mass Gainer. Heavy Cream. Jars of peanut butter. Extra olive oil. You need MORE and you want it now. The next 15 pounds come fast. No amount is too much for you. You film all this now. You want a record of your progress. You pat your chubby ball gut in satisfaction. You find fat in places you didn’t realize got fat. That area around your cock is puffy and soft. The side of what once was your muscular pec is now dimpled and flabby. Your inner thighs. Your back. Softer. 

230.

Your gains are obvious. It’s been 60 lbs and two years. But college does that to people. Your parents realize your party lifestyle has impacted your diet. You’re not a high school jock anymore, but hey, why not enjoy college? You’ve graduated and you want help to keep growing. Meet up with a feeder. He’s older than you. Potbellied. Clearly he’s put on weight himself. He opens the door in his underwear. You are shy. But your gut poking through your large tee and your lovehandles spilling over your jeans are all he needs to see to know you’ve been doing plenty of damage to yourself without his help. He intends to fucking destroy you. And he will.

This is when it gets intense. He makes you open the fridge where a gallon tub of ice cream has been melting into a vat of chocolatey goo. You will drink it all and he will make you do it sitting in front of the mirror naked.You gets you high on marijuana and poppers. You step on the scale and realize in erotic satisfaction that you have put on 4 pounds instantly. 

Your gut has never been more full. You are more erect than you have ever been. You have never felt SO GOOD.

He has you now. Addicted. Welcome to gaining, pig.

250.

 There’s no going back now. Your gut is distended and chubby and bloated all the time. And you are PROUD of it. Bright red stretchmarks have erupted across your round, soft, stomach and lovehandles. They remind you of your progress and you love them. You want more. You look like a fat guy now. Your face is puffy and round. You never go to the gym anymore. You can’t hide your weight gain in the baggiest of clothes. A double chin has formed so you grow a scraggly beard to cover it. Clothes do not fit you the same. You look… disheveled. And you do not care. All you CARE about is getting MORE. 

You are becoming a proper hog.Your feeder has done some serious damage and you love it. You obey him. You trust him. He wants you fatter, and you oblige. Each session is intense and he’s pushing your limits. The challenge is so erotic, you don’t even realize the changes that are occurring. You just know you want more. You are his slob now. A greedy, hungry, gainer. You are transforming. But it is still not enough. You cannot stop now.

270.

You have gained 100 pounds. Or have you? You still look so skinny in the mirror. You’re pudgy, MAYBE. Definitely not fat. There are way more guys that are fatter than you, and they aren’t even trying. You must gain more. Your family is concerned. 100 pounds in five years is a lot. “You should get back in the gym.” “Lay off the beer.” “Too many sweets and fast food.”

This only motivates you more. You’ll show them just how big you can get. Next time they see you, they will be horrified; you will make sure of that. 

Your feeder is proud of his pig, and you need him more than ever. He pushes you to gorge unrelentlessly. New creative ways to pump you full of calories. Your skin is always tight. Every time you feed, you think, “I’ve never been this full.” Yet you crave more. Your cock throbs as you play with your soft underbelly. It sags now over your waistband, no matter what kind of pants you wear. Your ass cheeks are soft and dimpled. Your lovehandles are embarrassingly wide. People look at you funny. When you eat in public, people are grossed out. 

300.

You run into an old college classmate who has himself gained weight. He barely recognizes you with the double chin and the beard and the waddle. You converse. He says “I guess we all put on a little weight after college” as he pats your soft, flabby belly just above your navel. This excites you. But you play it off. “Yeah work keeps me busy. No time to exercise and I just love trying new restaurants.”

The truth is, you don’t care what food tastes like. You will chug anything, stuff anything into your fat face that your feeder tells you to. You are his now. He is the only person you are attractive to now. Too fat for normal men. You are now an acquired taste. Only chubby chasers and encourages want your sweaty, waddling, bloated, curvy body. 

330.

You are in denial. "It’s not that much, I think I want another 50 pounds.“ 

The statement is laughable on its face. You are a blubbery mess of a man. This is what addiction does to you. You can’t even realize that 160 pounds of pure lard packed onto your once-thin frame is a lot. Nothing fits you anymore. You are always out of breath. People you used to know do not recognize you. You’ve given up all your hobbies except the only one that matters: Gaining. 

Gaining is the only thing you want. The only thing you think about. The only thing that gets your cock hard. And you must have more. 

350.

You film yourself naked eating a pie on all fours. Sniff poppers. Then slam back two pints of melted ice cream. The flavor doesn’t matter. It drips out the side of your mouth and over your fat tits. Your nipples are swollen and sensitive. You love having your tits played with. Oink Oink. You reach under your heavy soft overhang and pull it up. Jiggle it for your camera. Burp. Slap your gut.

You masturbate to these videos you film of yourself. You are shocked when you look back at your video at 250 and think “WOW I was so thin back then.” Reality is, 250 was NOT thin. But your perception of what is fat, what is thin, is so distorted by your fetish that it’s completely disconnected from reality. 

400.

Your feeder laughs and pats your gut as the scale reads 400 for the first time.

You are fatter now than he has ever been. 

“How do you feel, pig?” he says, grinning, and with his cock leaking precum in his underwear. 

“I feel… small. Like I need another 50 pounds,” you respond as you rub the soft hanging part of your belly. “And I’m still hungry.”

He loves hearing that. He sits you down in front of the mirror and watches as you drink a Boost VHC. 500 calories a piece. 

Drink another.

And another.

And another.

2000 calories. 

“Feel better pig?“ 

"yes sir.” you respond. 

As you look in the mirror, you let out a satisfying burp and jiggle your heft. Everything wobbles on you now. What you see back doesn’t shock you, but it should.

You think: What have I become? What have I done to myself? Why do I still feel so small?

Then you reach around your massive gut and feel your cock. It’s buried in fatpad now. And erect. Leaking precum. Your feeder gets on his knees and puts his lips on your cock. and starts slowly sucking off his greedy boy pig. This is your life now. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. And you still want more. 

[drocprboii]

where ARE they coming from though

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Uh-oh! Hunter, one of our Pfatter pfans, has come down with a case of the Sumo Flu. It’s been going around campus and is VERY contagious. By the looks of it, he’s got a pretty severe case!

Want to commission a video like this one, to keep private or to post for all our pfans? DM us for more information!

[drocprboii]

Sometimes you just need a little snack* to make it through the day.

*little snack = enough food for a family of four

[drocprboii]

You fat motherfucker

Don’t you dare think twice about a second order of fries, or cheesesticks, or toast.

Carbs are your religion, and don’t you think you’re going to get donuts or pastries for dessert anyway?

You need more. More is the only appropriate answer. You’re going to eat it all before you get home so that your mates (or family) don’t judge you for eating dinner anyway. Just fucking order it. Appropriate doesn’t really matter, now does it?

You’re worried about spending so much on food? Fuck that. Check the fit of your clothes. You won’t worry about buying tee shirts that fit your hanging gut, so obviously you have your priorities straight. Fattening food is cheaper anyway, 2 large fries for half the price of a salad? Feast up, fat stuff. And did you forget the mobile app for its coupons?

They say one coupon per order. But you’ve split your meal into 3 orders just to make the coupons get you more food for such little money. What was all that for if you didn’t want to feel your gut bursting with ecstasy as your erect little cock leaks for joy? McDonald’s fills you with such joy. Fuck them all get some extra fries to soak up that Frappuccino AND milkshake.

You want it. You crave it. Grease and carbs. Eat, you fat motherfucker. You love bursting that belly into a new weight class… stretching that appetite to oblivion. You’re a porker. You’re a pig. You want more. You need more. Don’t give yourself mercy now.

Body builders push their limits. You’re doing the same, for so much cheaper. No extra supplements. Your body was built for this. Eat, fatty. Face first into your guilty shame ~ and don’t forget there’s dinner at home to top it off.

You’ll have no worries. Your stuffed gut will give you the greatest orgasm. Besides you love the feeling of that warm precum dripping through the furry forest of your fatpad as you stretch your belly’s appetite with that lard ladened drive-through pick up 😘

You’ll wash it all nice and squeaky clean with the warm rush of that shower water - waterfalling through your curves - helping the pressure in those taut tight belly muscles anyway. And a nap is quickly on the way after one more post shower-stuffing.

You’ll love it. Promise ;) just eat and let your worries melt away in the same fashion as all your muscles melt away, as your body converts your divine and blissful filling into marshmallowy blubber.

Eat your feelings. Eat your worries. Stop thinking so much and overfill on what gives you true joy in this life. EAT! You’re a fat fuck. Don’t start fighting it now ;) eat, cum, nap, repeat 😉