#muscle car for sale

[herigo]

[mygatewayclassiccars]

It's Auction Time Again! 84 lots in this week's auction! Check 'em out and place your bids!

[flmboyz]

Price: 9k

1992 Ford Mustang 4cyl

Foxbody

[onlinewordworld]

Classic Cars for Sale: Find Your Dream Ride at Classic Car Shop

Discover a treasure trove of classic cars for sale at Classic Car Shop! From iconic European models to rugged 4x4 Cars, our collection caters to every enthusiast's taste. Whether you're in the market for a timeless Bentley or seeking a vintage European gem, our curated selection ensures you'll find the perfect ride to turn heads and make memories on the road. Explore now!

[livingstyleup]

Find Your Dream Car Today - Classic Muscle Cars for Sale

Browse our wide selection of classic sport cars and old classic muscle cars for sale. We have a wide variety of vehicles to choose from, all in excellent condition. Find the perfect classic car for your collection today!

[nottsangel]

— porn link.

dating dealer!theo is difficult at times, especially for a girl like you, who requires relatively a lot of attention that he couldn’t always provide given his spontaneous and irregular ‘working’ hours. thankfully for you, he allowed you to join him on his daily adventures. and yes, he was hesitant at first, knowing the dangers of his unusual job, but after all your whining and pleading, he agreed, so now you’re happily accompanying him, going from customer to customer on a busy day. and besides, he prefers to keep an eye on you at all times, knowing it’s easier to protect you with you by his side anyway.

but it was late already, the sun having set hours ago as the eerie moonlight seeps through the blinds of yet another customer’s house. you felt tired, bored, and most of all, suffering from a terrible lack of attention. the chatter between the men goes in one ear and out the other as you sit on theo’s lap, your head resting against his chest while feeling his gun behind the waistband of his pants pressing uncomfortably against your side.

theo, on the other hand, acts as if you are not even in the room, leaving you to sulk as you glare up at him through your eyelashes. he sits back, arms resting relaxed on the couch with his legs wide and his piercing eyes stern and narrowed as he gazes at the men in front of him, a little bag of white powder in one of his hands as he tells them his usual sales pitch. he exudes an air of power, dominance and authority, as his cold and emotionless face is fixed ahead, eyes occasionally darting to the stash of cash on the table.

when the two men momentarily leave the room to discuss further points, you wrap your arms around theo’s neck, trying to get his attention— which is… difficult. “theo, are we almost done? i just— i wanna go home.” you whine for the tenth time that day, clinging to him as you pout and stare at him with your best doe-like eyes. “we’ll be done soon, amore. be a good girl f’me and keep that pretty mouth shut for a little longer, okay? think you can do that?” you nod obediently, yet you let out a defeated sigh. you gaze around the unsettling, dirty room, the awful smell of all kinds of drugs mixed together filling your nostrils as the entire place looks like a mess, and you can’t wait to finally leave.

it’s in the car when he realises that you’re at your limit, as you refuse to talk to him, your arms crossed and an exasperated look on your face. luckily for you, he knows exactly what to do in moments like these. without saying a word, he drags you to the back seat and practically folds you in half with your legs in the air, almost touching the roof of the car, revealing your soaked panties and making you squeal. “okay. i know what’s going on here.”

the same intimidating, power-driven expression doesn’t falter from his handsome face as he rips your black, lace panties apart as if it’s nothing and folds your skirt up, exposing your dripping cunt that has been craving attention all day long. you gaze up at him with desperate eyes, finally about to get what you’ve been yearning for. a gasp escapes you before an abrupt moan slips from your swollen lips as he gives you some well-deserved pussy slaps, evidently relishing your reaction to his touch.

“such a needy fuckin’ slut. can’t even go an hour without some dick, huh?” he growls, practically drooling at the sight of your glistening cunt, feeling himself grow hard as he leans down and suddenly licks your slick arousal, eliciting a choked sob from you. he moans right into your core, never growing weary of your sweet taste, as he pushes your legs further apart, your muscles hurting at the stretch but the pain is quickly overshadowed by his soft lips sucking expertly on your aching clit.

you arch your back at his touch, your hands gripping his brown locks as loud, high-pitched moans escape your mouth and fill the car while he sloppily devours you like it’s his last meal on earth. “so this was all that was needed to get you to shut up? i see.” he murmurs cockily against your cunt as he suddenly slips two fingers in at once, the tip of his digits instantly rubbing against your sweet spot. “next time i’ll make sure to fuck you between every. single. customer, cara mia. gonna make sure you’re dripping with my cum all day long, like the dirty little slut that you are. and i don’t want to hear any fuckin’ complaints, got it?”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[moparmadness]

Mopar 440 Engine – One of the Finest Engines Ever Constructed

Developed by the Chrysler company from 1966 to 1978, the Mopar 440 engine is a legendary engine among enthusiasts of muscle cars. Chrysler created the 440 in response to the era’s growing need for more power in muscle vehicles. The Mopar 440 has won a unique place in car fans’ hearts with its remarkable performance and distinct sound.

Depending on the model, the Mopar 440 engine’s output ranged from 375 to 390 horsepower and 480 to 490 lb-ft of torque. The 440 was among the most potent engines of its era because of these figures. It had a displacement of 7.2 litres and was available in several configurations. They comprised:

Single 4-barrel carbureted

Dual 4-barrel carbureted

Triple 2-barrel carbureted setups

Durability was one of the factors that contributed to the Mopar 440 engine’s popularity. It was designed to resist the demands of high-performance driving with characteristics like:

Forged steel connecting rods

A steel crankshaft

High-strength pistons

A beefy bottom end to handle the stresses of high RPMs

The Mopar 440 is a V-8 engine with two banks of four cylinders positioned at a 60-degree angle from the drive shaft. The deep rumble produced by the 440 engine’s massive displacement and aggressive camshaft gives it its characteristic sound. Anyone familiar with vintage muscle cars will recognise it right away.

Collectors and enthusiasts today place a high value on Mopar 440 engines. It is a tribute to the engineering and design that went into constructing this recognisable powerplant. The Mopar 440 is an absolute legend of the automotive industry, whether powering a vintage muscle car or being incorporated into a bespoke build.

Mopar Dodge Engine for Sale

If you’re looking for a high-performance engine for your muscle car or an efficient engine for your pickup truck, Mopar Dodge engines are a fantastic choice. If you’re searching for a new engine, think about a Mopar Dodge engine for sale.

The Dodge engines made by Mopar are no exception to the brand’s reputation for producing powerful motors. These engines have long been a staple of the automotive industry and remain well-liked by amateurs and experts. They are well-known for attributes like:

Power

Durability

Longevity

Reliability

Robust and effective

A variety of sizes and configurations are available

Among the Mopar Dodge engines, HEMI is the most frequently purchased models. There are hemispherical chambers in this combustion engine. A Hemi engine’s combustion chamber, where power is produced, holds the secret to its power potential. 

The Hemi engine has been employed in various vehicles, from muscle cars to pickup trucks. The HEMI engine has a special hemispherical combustion chamber that offers the best airflow, increasing horsepower and torque. This engine is offered in numerous sizes and configurations, making it appropriate for several applications.

Another popular Mopar Dodge engine for sale is the Magnum. Because of its durability and longevity, this engine has been used in various vehicles, including both commercial and passenger cars. The Magnum engine’s stock parts are cast-iron cylinder heads and a block, providing a sturdy foundation for performance enhancements. Also, various applications are feasible because of the engine’s availability in multiple sizes and configurations.

Conclusion

An automotive club called Mopar Madness promotes the preservation of antique, classic, and high-performance Mopar vehicles. The Mopar name has been associated with high-performance automobiles since the company developed the Hemi engine, widely used in drag racing, in the 1960s. Even in modern culture, Mopar Madness is still a well-known experience, with many auto enthusiasts collecting and restoring Mopar 440 engines, vintage vehicles and trucks and enhancing the performance of more contemporary versions.

Source: https://bit.ly/3lQ0bSi

[reliancestore]

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[bunnyreaper]

johnny is the wolf plushie that watches over your bed—but is he something more?

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, wolf!shifter, mild a/b/o, mentions of blood.

part of my plushie-verse, and definitely with @iciclesses in mind <3)

it was a random tuesday in june when he turned up on your doorstep—the most precious little wolf puppy plushie that probably has ever existed, at least in your eyes.

his brown-gray fur is silky smooth, with the journey in the post smoothing the hair atop his head into a perfect peak, you don't have the heart to smooth it down, as he just looks so precious with it. his sapphire eyes sparkle brightly and his mouth is stitched into a little smile. there's a note in the package detailing his journey and the coincidences that led him to you. How your dear friend had got invited to a car boot sale at the last minute, had happened upon the wolf plushie as they bought something else and the seller had passed him over with "free to a good home".

your friend immediately knew he belonged with you, and the bond you formed was instant. you rushed out to get him his own collar after just a few days, officially making him your pup.

the wolf was the loyal guard dog of your bed and your dreams, always there watching you and the other plushies that lived in your bed. some nights he was never out of your clutches, cuddled close to you all warm and cosy—other nights he kept watching over the bed, his presence making you feel safe despite the fact he was decidedly not real.

one night, for the first time since getting your pup, you spend the night away from home. you'd felt so bad leaving him behind while you went for your sleepover, but knew you couldn't bring him with you. so you'd kissed him on the forehead, set him on your pillow, and headed out for your night of fun, trying to cast him from your mind—after all, you shouldn't feel so attached to a plushie, right?

that night your rest was fitful, plagued by nightmares. vague figures chased you down, and the only relief you found was when a wolf came to your rescue. you recognise its sparkling blue eyes and familiar fur, yet its form is so different. no longer a sweet-faced pup, but a giant, protective beast—snarling and attacking those who chased you.

the wolf ravaged each attacker and yet… once you were safe, its aggression melted, as it stalked towards you, head bowed making it look respectful, despite the blood dripping from its maw. you know you should be scared of such a beast, and yet you know him—he's your wolf.

he nuzzles into you, surrounding you in his soft fur and warm embrace—covering you in his scent and marking you as his. your body can't help but react to the closeness, the intimacy, as you shiver with need. as both you and the wolf begin to calm, you feel his body shift, back to a man. all thick muscles littered with scars and dark hair—you feel his naked body pressed against yours, and yet as you're about to turn, you wake.

the dream leaves you more hot and bothered than your sleepover, and you find it hard to face your plushie when you return home, knowing the dream has twisted your innocent little plushie into an object of desire and lust. you nuzzle him to your neck, just as he had in the dream, and imagine what kind of mark he would leave on your neck.

over the coming weeks and months, the dreams continue. your wolf protects you, defends you, follows you, and keeps you safe. he's a constant, and you find yourself growing mentally and physically closer to him whether it's in wolf or man form.

the man behind the wolf slowly reveals himself, and he has the same blue eyes and protective stare, with a wicked grin and the same tuft of hair. you grow addicted to his touch, to the feeling of his strong body curled into yours, the feeling of his teeth on your skin, and the sublime stretch when he finally mounts you.

your waking moments grow a little emptier, as you find yourself lost to the feeling that comes with your dreams.

you find yourself distracted and forlorn one night, having been dragged from the comfort of your bed to a bar in town—one that's far too busy and far too loud, and filled with people that make you feel unsafe. you try to dance in peace with your friends, but find it hard to let loose with strangers grinding into you and trying to make a move—it's tiring trying to shoo off each new body that appears and tries to get close to you.

and then relief comes, in the form of a booming scottish voice fighting for your honour, asserting that they need to get out of your personal space. calm floods you instantly, and you turn to face your protector—only to sparkling blue eyes and a face you most definitely recognise.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

Things You Might Not Know About the 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

The **1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am** holds a special place in automotive history, renowned for its bold styling, powerful performance, and cultural significance. Here are some fascinating facts you might not know about this iconic muscle car:

1. **"Smokey and the Bandit" Fame:

The 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am gained widespread popularity thanks to its starring role in the classic movie *Smokey and the Bandit*. Burt Reynolds’ character drove a black-and-gold Trans Am, turning it into an instant pop culture icon.

2. **W72 Performance Package:

The W72 performance package, offered in the 1978 model, significantly enhanced the engine's performance. With a 400 cubic-inch V8 engine, it delivered around 220 horsepower, which was a respectable number for the late 1970s when emissions regulations were restricting power outputs.

3. **Special Edition Models:

Pontiac released several special editions of the 1978 Trans Am, including the Gold Special Edition and the famous Black Special Edition, often referred to as the "Bandit Edition." These models featured gold accents, such as the iconic "screaming chicken" decal on the hood and gold alloy wheels.

4. **Improved Handling:

While muscle cars are known for their straight-line speed, the 1978 Firebird Trans Am was notable for its handling. Pontiac engineers upgraded the suspension and steering, making the Trans Am one of the best-handling American cars of its time.

5. **Optional T-Tops:

Buyers of the 1978 Trans Am could opt for T-top removable roof panels, which became a favorite among enthusiasts. These panels gave the car an open-air feel without compromising the structural integrity of the body.

6. **Last Year for the 400 V8:

The 1978 model year marked the last time Pontiac offered the 400 cubic-inch V8 engine in the Trans Am. This engine was one of the final remnants of the muscle car era, and its discontinuation was a sign of the changing times in the automotive world.

7. **Appearance Package Overhaul:

In 1978, Pontiac updated the Firebird's appearance, giving it a new front end with a split grille and updated rear-end styling. This refresh helped keep the Trans Am competitive in the rapidly changing car market of the late '70s.

8. **Turbo Hood Scoop:

The Trans Am featured a functional "shaker" hood scoop, which helped channel cool air into the engine, boosting performance. The hood scoop was not just for show—it played a real role in enhancing the car's capabilities.

9. **High Sales Numbers:

Despite rising fuel costs and growing emissions regulations, the 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am was a commercial success. Pontiac sold over 93,000 units of the Trans Am that year, proving that demand for muscle cars still existed, even in a more restrictive era.

10. **Enduring Legacy:

The 1978 Trans Am continues to be a favorite among collectors and car enthusiasts. Its unique combination of performance, style, and cultural impact ensures that it remains one of the most beloved muscle cars from the golden age of American automotive design.

These little-known facts highlight the lasting appeal of the **1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am**, a car that has transcended its era to become a symbol of American automotive culture.

[emptyultimatum]

SWEATER WEATHER

Avenger AU Loki x fem!reader In which Loki and his girlfriend (you) clash cutely over weather-appropriate clothing.

Loki raised his arms above his head, the shoulders in his scarred back rippling with muscles. His shirt lay on the floor, stripped off and sweaty from his work out. Facing the window, admiring the view of New York, he groaned as he stretched, pulling, reaching. Crrck, pop, crack! 

“Ah, that feels better,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to settle them. He shook his black curls out of his bun, pulling the hair tie onto his wrist absently. “Darling, where are you?” 

She slid into the room, beaming absurdly at him, arms spread wide. “Look at my sweater.” 

It was July, and a heatwave was rocking New York with a vengeance. Signs sagged in the heat; cars were dangerous to the touch; the sun bounced off glass buildings with such aggression, Loki felt as if his eyes were being burned alive. Thank Odin for sunglasses, which he wore regularly. 

And despite this all, his girlfriend decided to buy a sweater. An overlarge, shapeless, lumpy grey sweater, which had sleeves so long they flopped over her hands like bunny ears. 

“You can’t be serious,” Loki said, staring at the sweater. 

She grinned. “I’m so serious. It’s so comfy.” 

She did look comfy. Absurdly comfy, in fact. The kind of comfy that winter and hot chocolate and fireplaces heralded. And the way that the tops of her thighs stuck out from the bottom, round and plump… He felt a strong urge to pull her onto the bed and cuddle into her for the next week or so. 

But then Loki remembered the hundred-two degree high they were predicted to reach today. 

“Take it off,” he said. “You’re going to melt.” 

“Tony can pay for AC,” she waved him off, bouncing to the thermostat and cranking it low. “Ahh. I love it.” 

He gave her a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re utterly ridiculous. It’s the height of summer, darling, and you bought a sweater.” 

“That’s the best time!” she argued. “Off-season sales! I got this for thirty bucks.” 

“Thirty bucks?” 

“The original price was fifty-eight,” she said stubbornly. 

Loki prayed to his mother. “At least put it in storage until the proper climate arrives.” 

“That’s in months,” she waved him off, sweater sleeve flapping. “I wanna wear it now.” 

“Of course you do.”

“We should make hot chocolate. I’m in a hot chocolate mood.” 

“Naturally, in summer, hot chocolate is a must-have.” 

“And watch Frozen!” 

“This must be some sort of joke,” he pleaded. “What insanity drove you to this? It’s a damn ninety-eight degrees!” 

She cackled. “I like sweaters.” 

“You don’t even wear them!” Loki cried. 

“Now I do!” She climbed into their bed, snuggled under the covers. The AC was properly blasting now, sending cold gusts of air down his sweaty, post-gym skin. She patted the space beside her, smiling up at him. “Come cuddle. It’s cold.” 

“And they call me the Mad One,” he muttered, climbing into the bed. She giggled, putting her arms around him, snuggling him into her chest. 

“Perfect,” she sighed. 

Perfect indeed, Loki smiled into her sweater, feeling its soft fibers tickling his cheek. She was warm, soft, and plush. The perfect place to rest his head, to ease his worries. 

They lay silently together, hearts beating in sync, the summer sun gleaming through their window as the AC pumped cold air into the room. She sighed, pleased, snuggled in her sweater. 

“We do have a mission brief in a few moments,” Loki murmured. 

“I know,” she said. 

“And you’re going to wear the—”

“I’m going to wear the sweater.” 

Loki hid his smile in her chest. “We’d best alert Stark, then, so he might prepare the room temperature for you in advance.” 

“How considerate,” she smiled. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Darling, I’d freeze the world twice over if you wished for snow.” 

She beamed at him, pure and unabashed joy. “Well, it’s a good thing I only want you.” 

Loki’s heart fizzled, his skin tingling with the closeness of her. 

“And hot chocolate,” she added. 

He laughed, and brought her in for a kiss. 

[onelittlespiral]

Hey hi! I've heard you've got some kind of offer or sale going on, not too sure what its about but I'd like to buy your services. My best friend is a bit of ladiesman jock type and he keeps complaining he can't find a good relationship. So I wanted to know if you could maybe turn him into less ladiesman and more men's man, maybe daddying him up a bit? So i could maybe get a chance with him, and he'd get the relationship he wants.

Subject: Order #100714

Dear Dopple,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100714 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Daddy_From_Friend(Best;Jock)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Expect delivery in 3-5 days. Please note that joint delivery is expected.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

It was only a few days later when you heard another notification come through from The Spiral. At the same time, you hear a knock at the door. You were glad for the interruption. It was nice to head over to your friends’s apartment and hang out for the weekend. But if you had to listen to him complain again about how tough the dating market was for a white, straight, good looking guy like him you were going to scream. Glancing at the notification for a package delivery to this address, you realize that it is probably about time for the show to begin. No need to interrupt the process. You dart into the restroom as you hear him pick up the package. As you close the door, a rip is heard outside, and as you lock it, a faint poof is heard. A faint fog creeps under the door crack. It smells like fresh grass and sandalwood. Another notification comes through, as The Spiral provides you with product details:

Due to selected target changes, we have elected for our rapid delivery transformation system to best meet your needs. Upon receipt, subject will open box and full product delivery will commence. A dense cloud of product will be released directly onto target and rapidly absorbed. Your friend will age to around 35, with associated physical changes. His previously smooth, young body will change rapidly. Skin is expected to tan, hairline recede, muscles grow, and body and facial hair develop. As the product is breathed in, expect tastes to change. Your new friend will prefer whiskey and beer drinks, along with the occasional cigar. As mental changes set in, they will find themselves drawn to care and maintenance hobbies, like regular workouts, yard work, renovations, cars, and sports. He will be drawn to jeans and beat up tennis shoes or boots, and only prefer to wear a polo when they must go into the office. At the same time, his mind will be filled with images of men. Men staring at him. Men holding onto him. Men worshiping him. This will start the final change, a libido adjustment. He will feel a deep need to fuck, to control his partners, and leave his seed planted deep inside them. The added girth and heavy sack will ensure he never underperforms. As he adjusts and embraces his new personality, he will settle and seek a single partner to fulfill his needs.

Thank you again for choosing The Spiral

You finish reading and unlock the bathroom door, running from the upstairs bedroom through your friend’s spacious house to meet him on the porch.

He is standing on the porch, a box still in hand, just as described. You didn’t know he could be more handsome, but he has aged like a fine wine. He takes one look at you and simply holds out the package in his hand,

“It’s for you.”

For you? You check the label and he is correct. You grab the box and he crosses his arms, waiting. Unsure what is inside, you open the package.

“Ah, good. Been waiting for these,” he snatches it from your hands and inspects the well-worn frames. You try to turn away, but he catches you in his arms,

“This should make you behave.” He takes the sunglasses and sticks them on your face. In an instant, the world is dark. And then a pair of screens flicker to life. As spiral fills your vision, you try to take them off. But your friend is holding you tight. You can’t resist it’s allure for long. It’s right. You do feel so sleepy. As it counts down from ten, your body begins to sway and relax. But you can’t bring yourself to mind. The spiral knows best. You fade away, held in the warm embrace of release and the strong arms of a man…

You come to laying in a bed that feels familiar and foreign all at once. You scratch at your beard and inspect the scene. Lube is left open on the bedside table. Tank tops, jeans, and boxers are strewn over the floor. A pillow is still wedged under you. Heh, still got it. You wander downstairs as you stretch your muscles and rub some sore muscles from the night before. You find him in the kitchen preparing some eggs. Your love. Your master. Your beast in the sheets. You sneak up behind and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Stop, you’ll make me burn them.”

You don’t listen. You plant a kiss on his cheek. He turns around, spatula in hand, and smacks your ass.

“Act your age, boy.”

Something in that statement hits a trigger. You remember something. A younger body. Slender, taut, pale. A firmer mind. Less corruptible, less controlled. Then, you feel an arm around you.

“You okay, cuz you look faint. Don’t break a hip old man.”

You stare at your husband and the world comes into focus. He smirks and gives you a little growl, and you swoon a little in his arms,

“Give daddy a kiss,” he commands.

You lean forward, pressing your hairy chest against his, and love on your husbear.

“I’m going to finish these eggs. Go set the table and look cute,” he says with a wink. You walk off, dizzy for a new reason. You ignore the buzz in your pocket as you get ready for breakfast.

Subject: Order #100714 Fulfilled

Dear Dopple,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[flmboyz]

Facebook Ad

Hopefully someone can save this classic.

1972

Ford Gran Torino

Located in Mableton, GA

[onlinewordworld]

Explore Timeless Beauty: Classic Cars for Sale at Classic Car Shop

Discover your dream ride with our online classic car trader. Immerse yourself in the world of vintage automobiles at Classic Car Shop. Find the perfect classic car for sale and experience the charm of automotive history. Uncover vintage elegance and craftsmanship in every classic car we offer. Indulge in automotive history with us. Start your journey today!

[epigstolary]

Step by Step

“I’m starting to get a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You hear something small clatter to the ground, and look down to see a spinning button slowly coming to rest at your feet. Your puffy potbelly sags through the gap in the waistband of your now-buttonless pants. You try to pull your shirt down to cover the gap, but your belly is hanging too low and it keeps riding up to your bellybutton. The friends you’re with see your face turn beet red, and try to stifle a snicker.

“I’m getting a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You bend over to tie your shoes, and the sudden constriction of your too-tight t-shirt takes your breath away. You can feel your sumptuous belly and flabby tits, bulging outward, straining against the fabric. You do your best to suck in and hold your breath long enough to finish your knot, then straighten up and take a loud, noisy breath. It takes more effort than you remember to get to your feet.

“I’ve gotten a little too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

The walk to the corner store seems a lot longer than it used to. Then you realize it’s because the extra resistance of your thickening thighs rubbing together, your ass cheeks being pushed up and dropped with every step, and the jiggle of extra fat in myriad unfamiliar places all over your body is what’s slowing you down. You stealthily pull the zipper halfway down your hoodie to let out some of the heat building up from your exertion.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

Your friends look at you, then nervously at each other, as you load your fourth plate at the group potluck. Distracted by your craving for another helping, you don’t notice how pronounced your waddle is as you plod across the room. You also don’t pay much attention when you sit down on the couch, until your wide hips spread across the cushion, your belly pushes you back into the seat — and the couch lets out a loud CRACK beneath you. Everyone in the room looks your direction, and then tries to pretend they were looking at anything but your embarrassed chubby face.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I need to lose some weight.”

You sit behind the wheel of your car, in your driveway, the frustration and bafflement growing in your mind. You check, and yes, the seat’s all the way back; wheel’s still making a dent into the pudge of your belly, but there’s at least enough room. The belt’s at its usual shoulder height. You lift your side rolls, flowing over the armrest; and the clip is positioned where it’s supposed to be. So why, you ask yourself, won’t the buckle reach? You pull again, the strap pulling on and cutting into your flab as you strain to get it just that half an inch further… before giving up with a frustrated sigh. You drum your pudgy fingers on your stack of side rolls. Maybe an extender would be a good investment after all.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I have to lose some weight.”

You try to focus on the smell of the cooking food as you stand over the stove, but all you can think about is the roaring ache in your back and legs. You lean against the kitchen counter, feeling your belly hanging and pulling against your back muscles, painfully aware of the whole weight of your thickening body resting on your flabby legs. All this, you think, from standing ten minutes making a pot of macaroni? With a last burst of energy, you grasp the pile of lard at your midsection, your fingers sinking into it, and heave it onto the counter. It groans under the mass, but the pressure releases from your spine and knees as the weight settles. It’s clear this isn’t going to work much longer. You figure it’s time to get a stool and start sitting when you have to cook.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

You never realized how many different kinds of brushes there were until you had to scroll through the hundreds listed for sale to find one you can use in the shower. You still feel the embarrassment from this morning’s discovery that, even sitting on your shower stool, there’s too much blubber surrounding your arms, love handles, and thighs for you to reach everywhere you need to wash with just your soapy loofah. You find one with a long handle and soft bristles that looks like it will fit perfectly under your sagging belly and between your billowing rolls. You add a case of those hard-to-find jelly-filled cakes you love to the order and select the expedited shipping option.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

The blubber encasing your body, hanging between your knees and over the sides of your mobility scooter seat, wobbles as you whir along down the frozen foods aisle. Your basket is already filled with chips, cookies, snack cakes, sugar cereal, pasta, ready-to-eat processed meals — your usual fare for the week — but you need a couple gallons of ice cream to get you through the weekend. As you reach for a carton of double chocolate fudge, you feel something give way in the scooter underneath you, which now makes a sickly buzzing noise when you try to operate the unresponsive controls. It takes all your strength to heave your bulk up from the seat, lumber your hundreds of pounds up to the customer service desk, and lean against the counter to catch your breath and try to ask for help. All the bewildered clerk and other customers can do is stare as you pant and cough, too winded and overheated to talk, your fat undulating with your labored breaths.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. I really have to at least stop gaining weight.”

You wake, still groggy, realizing you fell asleep and spent the night on the couch again. You gather the blanket on top of the wide mound of belly in front of you, fold it, and set it aside before collecting the snack wrappers and soda bottles left sitting next to you from the night before. You’re still a little tired, so you’re not that surprised when you grab the arm rest and push up, letting your belly roll forward over your knees, rise a few inches off the couch, stall, and plop back into your spot, the broad cheeks of your ass spreading to fill the indent covering two of the three cushions. What does surprise you, after you’ve woken up fully and collected yourself, is that your second and third attempts go little better. Somewhat alarmed, adrenaline pumping, you finally get over the hump and lift your tremendous bulk into a standing position. A chill of worry ripples down your spine, as the thought of having to call the fire department to get you off your own couch flashes through your mind. You step slowly, deliberately toward the front door; and if you weren’t so distracted at the thought of the grocery delivery waiting for you, you’d notice the jiggle and pull of the thick layers of fat covering every inch of your body, dominating your motions and shifting with every step you try to take.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. And now… I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.”

[fredwkong]

Sneakerhead

(inspired by a prompt from the incredibly welcoming @idesofrevolution​ )

It started because of some shoes.

Joel really wanted some classic Air Jordans, the 4s, black with red accents. He’d been having some trouble dating lately, passing out of his early 20s, when girls just wanted a guy who used deodorant. In their late 20s girls wanted shit like 401(k)s and moving in together. Joel’s solution? Date younger.

To do that, he needed some new style. He’d been grabbing streetwear for a while, but the Js would be the centrepiece, what he needed to perfectly set off distressed jeans and an oversized flannel. With his slender frame and boyish looks, with some new style Joel was sure his clean lifestyle would attract plenty of younger dates.

The shoes remained elusive, however. Too expensive to buy new, impossible to thrift. Finally, a gay guy acquaintance of Joel’s mentioned Sneaker Swap, a trade/sale site. He offered to send Joel a special invite link, an unreadable look in his eyes. Apparently this link would fast track Joel’s account progress somehow, give him unique access to shoes. Some gay kink thing, probably, Joel thought.

When he got home from the bar where he and the guy had met up, Joel followed the link and downloaded the app. The app took a while to load, he noticed, but the loading spiral was pretty nice to look at, so it was fine. It was one of the Js in the middle of several swirling concentric circles with a rainbow pattern.

Finally, the app loaded, inviting Joel to make an account. He input his shoes size, blinking at the afterimage of the spiral in his vision. When the main page loaded, and sneakers started to populate across the screen, his dick jumped unexpectedly, probably a side effect of being so close to finally having his Js and getting a date.

The guy Joel finally ended up buying his Js from lived across town, so Joel drove to his house to make the trade. As soon as he pulled up, he noticed a rainbow flag in the front window. The guy had seemed pretty intelligent and straightforward while Joel negotiated, but when he opened the door the guy seemed totally out of it. He barely remembered agreeing to the trade, he tried to grope Joel’s ass, and worst of all, all he was wearing were some tight boxer briefs and his sneakers, which gave off kind of a funky smell.

The dumb guy left Joel standing next to his shoe rack while he went to go find the Jordans and their box. As he waited, a distinctive smell started to fill Joel’s nose, the rich, buttery aroma rising off of the pile of used shoes in the rack. This guy must not own any socks, Joel thought in disgust. If those Js were gonna smell this bad, he might need to look for a new pair. He started to load sneaker swap, watching the spiral turn for several seconds.

Maybe the smell wasn’t that bad, he realised, sniffing the air again. It wasn’t like he wanted his feet to smell like that, but it wasn’t so surprising for a guy to want to fill his shoes with his essence. Mark his territory. Show off his manliness.

Joel had drifted back toward the shoe rack by the time the guy came back with the shoes. He spotted the Sneaker Swap app, still loading on Joel’s phone.

“Huhu, what a great app,” the guy grunted, handing over the shoebox. “Totally changed my life, bro.”

“Uh, thanks, man,” Joel said, handing over cash for the Js and pocketing his phone. He wrinkled his nose at the smell coming off the guy’s hairy muscles. “Thanks for the shoes.”

“Totally,” the gay guy’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Joel’s pants. Joel hadn’t even noticed his erection. “Hey bruh, if you want to,” the guy paused and licked his lips, “trade sneakers again sometime, hit me up.”

Joel beat a hasty retreat back to his car.

As he drove home, he kept thinking about the smell of that guy’s shoes. It was almost like it was still in his head, fogging up his brain. In fact, it was getting stronger. Joel pulled over and grabbed the shoebox from his passenger seat. He hadn’t smelled it in the house, but his fancy new Js were impregnated with the smell of the guy’s feet. Joel groaned, now he would have to figure out how to clean the shoes without ruining them.

Joel kept the shoes in a box in the back of his front closet, not wanting to have to smell them while he figured out how to wash off the stench. By the time he had finished his dinner, though, a faint foot funk was permeating his kitchen like a haze. Those shoes were powerful. Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap. Maybe they had a forum that could help. At the very least, he wanted to comment on the guy’s profile so other people knew what they were getting into.

The loading spiral was so relaxing. Joel could just sit and watch it… Some time later, Joel found himself looking at the main page of the app. When had it gotten so dark? He’d been about to do something on the app. He was going to—he was going to look for more shoes, right. He was already planning more outfits with different pairs.

The next morning, Joel was leaving for work when he saw the Js he’d bought yesterday sitting out on his shoerack, their smell eye-watering at close range. Had he put them there? He must have. The smell seemed different today, more complex and deeper, there was almost an appeal to having it filling him up… Joel shook his head. He should have looked up how to clean them last night, his whole house was gonna smell if this kept up. He went to open the Sneaker Swap app, and watched the spiral load.

He was nearly late for work, he spent so long looking at shoes to buy. How was he getting so absentminded lately? He must have had a latent interest in cool shoes this whole time, he reasoned.

The pattern continued. Every time Joel passed through his entryway, he smelled the musky Jordan 4s on his shoerack. He thought about cleaning them or putting them away, and started to load up Sneaker Swap, then got distracted by looking at shoes. It was starting to affect other parts of his life, too. A girl at work commented on how spacey and airheaded Joel had been acting lately. He just shrugged, unable to think of an answer other than, “Sorry, head’s full of shoe stink.”

By the time his next paycheck came through, Joel had three different pairs on hold with local bros. He was jittery and excited all morning, then loaded up into his car for an afternoon driving around to make the trades.

It was… weird. Joel couldn’t put his finger on it, but all three of the guys he met were different than he’d expected. Maybe it was how slow and stupid their voices were, or their nudity, or the fact none of them had washed or put on deodorant. All three wore their sneakers in their houses, and all three had a pile of smelly shoes by the front door. But every time Joel tried to think about it, the smell of all the shoes seemed to overtake his mind. All three guys had such unique scents to them, Joel found himself fascinated.

On the drive home, Joel barely noticed the three pairs of shoes stinking up his car, too busy thinking about how all those shoes had smelled at the source, where the guys he’d bought his Js from kept all their dirty sneakers. In a daze, he carried the three smelly boxes into his house and absently set the three new pairs of shoes next to the first, which he still hadn’t tried on. He kept meaning to clean them, he should look up how on Sneaker Swap… The loading spiral was so captivating…

Later, Joel found himself sitting on the floor next to his shoerack, his phone open to Sneaker Swap in one hand and one of his new Js in the other. Another couple shoes were in his lap. He took in the complex, different scents of each of the guys he’d bought them from, some salty, some bitter, and one even an almost sweet scent. It was like a signature, their unique trace on the shoes, something he’d be honoured to add to now that he’d inherited the legacy from them.

The next morning, Joel sniffed himself and decided he probably didn’t have to shower this morning. He looked at the deodorant on his bathroom counter, puzzled, and then threw it in the trash. While he ate breakfast, Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap and, after watching the spiral for a while, started looking at shoes. When he got ready for work, he grabbed the first pair of Js he’d bought and shoved his socked feet into their musky interior without a second thought.

Joel had the style now, but he noticed that he was having even more trouble scoring dates now. Girls seemed put off by the manly smell that Joel was building up. He’d started going to the gym more, and showers just seemed so much less important than building up his personal brand of musk to fill in to his shoes. At one bar, a girl wrinkled her nose at him as soon as Joel came up to the bar and she fled. Meanwhile, a passing boy in some little sexy shorts paused walking past Joel, nostrils flaring. Joel watched as the guy’s little dick suddenly tented out his tiny package, and smirked when their eyes met.

He was noticing guys more and more lately. At first, it was just their shoes, like the spiral from Sneaker Swap appeared around the feet of any guy in Js. He kept wondering what it would be like to smell a guy’s feet for real, rather than just through getting his musky shoes. His collection was growing, and each time he went to get new shoes the guys he traded with got more fun. Their houses were full of such hot scents, and their hot, smelly bods looked and smelled so good. They kept pressing up against Joel as they passed him their shoes, passing on their musk to him to take care of. It was so hot.

As much as he loved the thick, musky smell permeating his house now, Joel still hadn’t gone all the way and stuck his face in one of his Js. He didn’t know if he could take the smell that close to the source. The day he brought home his tenth pair of shoes, though, Joel decided that his little collection deserved to be commemorated on his Sneaker Swap profile. He opened up the app and watched the loading spiral.

He recollected himself as he hit “post” on his new profile pic. He looked at it. His Js were neatly laid out on the shoerack, but off to the side, there he was, in the picture, his face buried in one of the 4s, the first ones he’d bought with the red accents. As likes and comments started to pour in from the guys he’d bought the shoes from, a chorus of “bruh” and “noice” and “sniff that sneak, dude” Joel realised that he was still holding the shoe over his mouth and nose.

Right in the back of his mind, Joel had an instant of fear. Was this really him? This stinky sneakerhead? He’d been different before, clean-cut and even straight! He instinctively took a deep breath, and his negative feelings vanished as all his thoughts were overcome with the salty, musky tang of the shoe, so much stronger at close range that it was a physical sensation on his tongue. Joel’s growing foot stench had blended with the buttery scent of that first dumb himbo he’d bought the shoes from.

It felt like his whole mind was being filled up with musk, slowing his thoughts down like they were moving through molasses. Everything was perfectly fine. He had his shoes, he had his musk, and his big cheesy cock. Life was pretty much perfect for a dumb sneakerhead like him.

The next morning, Joel woke up in bed, cradling one of his Js against his face like when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t bother putting on more than some boxers and a used pair of socks, sticking his feet into a pair of sneakers as he got out of bed. A new user on Sneaker Swap wanted to buy a pair of his 4s, and after that he’d invited the guy he’d bought his first pair from to come over and check out his collection. Hopefully Joel would be able to get his mouth on that guy’s hot, smelly feet this time.

He needed to message that guy who’s given him the link to this app. Maybe he could give him a reward, Joel thought, kneading his weeping cock through his boxers.