you can purchase a tshirt with a grim reaper on it that says “life’s short, eat more tacos” and i’ll let you make the joke for yourselves

breakin stereotypes

aries: these strong, healthy powerlifters eat more taco bell than anyone else

taurus: THEY DONT EAT/SLEEP ALL THE TIME WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THIS?? these stubbotn bulls are huge softies, don’t let them fool you. every one of them cries @ the titanic

gemini: they don’t have a personality disorder guys, and they arent just random weirdos. they are clever beings and they mirror the personality that U are fronting.

cancer: idk why everyone says yr so motherly tbh. one time i read a post that said you’d be the one to bail your friend outta jail or take them to the hospital when they got injured doing something stupid and you know DAMN well you would laugh your ass off before doing anything

leo: yr not as solipsistic as everyone thinks kiddo, i know exactly how insecure you r and just how much you cried over greys anatomy


libra: why does everyone think you dont know how to make decisions? you know exactly how to spot a fuckboy within a 10 mile radius and u got some of the best style bbyg dont let anyone say otherwise

scorpios: well

sagittarius: you dont flirt with everything that moves. you actually have mad high standards and it takes a lot for you to have intetest in someone–though impulsive you pull some sherlock holmes style deductions out of your ass about everyone you meet

capricorn: everyone thinks yr suuuuch a boring, structured control-freak but little do they know that u shaved yr legs in the bathroom sink this morning after u overslept bc yr life is out of control and u stayed up all night wondering what went wrong

aquarius: eh yeah youre as weirdly intelligent and vaguely otherworldly as the posts say

pisces: ok some of you dont give a shit about anything and some of you feel way too much and just dont know what to do with it, and everyone says you’re unpredictable but youre an asshole because of one of those two reasons and there is no mystery to it

Too Many Tacos Tuesday - a new story from kyaada

Too Many Tacos Tuesday
original weight gain fiction by kyaada

So, I’m sitting by the window at the local Mexican fast food restaurant enjoying my 2-for-$1.55 tacos for “Taco Tuesday” and something large and white passes by, immediately capturing my attention.  It was a late 20’s daddy, bringing up the rear on his heifer of a female and skinny little daughter.  His slow gait was pretty much a requirement with the heavy spherical protrusion in front of him and the thick bulges of each love handle at his sides, all squeezed into a very tight, crisp white tank top.  He saw me staring at the window at him as he turned his head to look in the restaurant and offered me a half-smile with a manly nod.  Various tattoos marked his muscle-gone-chubby arms and he swung those meaty limbs as countermeasures to the sways of his enormously rotund gut.  I found myself actually speaking out loud with “oh my GOD! look at the size of his BELLY!!” and was glad that the dining room was nearly empty at 9:30 PM.  

His large-framed girlfriend/wife/baby mama came in first and ordered food for what seemed like an eternity.  Then, he wobbled his way in after their young, very skinny, daughter emerged through the door.  He spent a lot of time hovering at the counter, usually putting his hands down and leaning forward to rest, as if lugging his hefty belly around was a significant chore.  From the back, his shape cut an interesting outline with moderately wide shoulders transitioning down in a “V” shape to even-wider love handles; his painter jeans were tight around his fat butt, but loose on his obviously thick thighs.  He seemed a bit impatient waiting for their food, which could have been a late evening snack on top of an earlier lengthy dinner session.  When he turned to the side, his belly was at least a full six inches farther out than the taut jeans waistband and perfectly round from pec muscle to pants button.  His smooth appearance was accentuated by the fact that he’d shaved his head recently and sported a nicely outlined head of nubbin’ short hair that was cool for summer.

After watching their demeanor for awhile, I guessed that they’re were on welfare, food stamps and go to the food bank for supplemental.  He just didn’t present himself like the kind of guy that works very hard (or can!).  I began imagining him sitting at home like a god with his dedicated baby mama cooking all of the time for him.  Gauging by the size of his belly, he must stuff himself into a stupor on a regular nightly basis and maybe all day on Sunday just because.  At some point, after multiple platefuls of dinner, he must roll back in his thrift store recliner or go belly-up on their broken-down old couch, let out a wall-shaking belch and signal that he’s ready for his dessert.  Then, his hefty handmaiden will meander out with a big box of marked-down day-old donuts or a mixer bowl full of affordably priced ice cream with dollar store toppings.  Or perhaps another can of cheap beer.  Or both.  

The well-fed couple chose a table on a diagonal with where I sat, knowing that his gut was simply too thick to pack into one of the many booths around the perimeter of the dining room.  He’d filled up the largest size cup with Coke and was sucking away on it when he arrived at the table, giving me another nod as he sat down facing my general direction.

Their order was soon brought out and looked absolutely sublime.  Two teenage boys in the kitchen watched as their young female coworker guided the heavily laden tray through the dining room, nudging each other in recognition of the super-sized order.  There had to be a dozen tacos, several burritos and two large orders of Potato Olés.  The round guy practically inhaled food, gorging on more than his share of tacos and burritos, giving the little girl just a taco and a few drinks of his large Coke, which he had his female companion refill twice.  When everything was devoured, he leaned back in his chair, smiled, let out a very deep, throaty belch and puffed his cheeks.  His gut was even wider from side to side and the fullness of his stomach had manifested in a rather deep shelf upon which he rested his right hand.  

“MMMmmm… Taco Tuesday,” he proclaimed, even looking in my direction. “Ooof…I’m gonna bust!”

I was literally sweating from the desire to speak.  “Good stuff, huh?” was all that I could intelligibly manage.  

“Oh yeah.  Even though we already had dinner, I can’t miss Taco Tuesday.”

“How many tacos did you eat, if you don’t mind me asking.  Some friends of mine had a taco eating contest here one time and Cameron ate 17 tacos.”

“Whoa! That’s a load of tacos!  I only ate around six of them tonight.  And a couple of bean burritos.  And a large thing of Olés…”

“Yeah, but on top of that huge steak, two baked potatoes, pile of mac ‘n cheese and strawberry shortcake already in your belly…” his female companion shared, leaning forward to stick her finger in his swollen beach ball.  “Your poke big poke ol poke fat poke belly!”

“Ow, careful,” the big bloated guy wheezed, “don’t pop me!”

“Think you could eat any more tacos there, big guy?  I’ll go get them for you…”

“I don’t know….” he paused.

“Oh, he can.  Trust me.  He’s got two hollow legs.”

“And a very, very big stomach!” I thought to myself as I got up to go order him a flattering number of tacos and send them to their table.  The two teenage boys nudged each other again as the order came back to them and there was a general sense that they were going to make these tacos “special”.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked upon my return.  

“Not at all.  Pull up a chair,” said the fattened ball of gluttony, who introduced himself as Jake and pointed out Heather, his female companion, and Lexi, his female companion’s daughter.

“Thanks.”  I emptied my tray from the other table and took a seat right to the left of the very handsome Jake, who radiated fullness.

Jake shifted his ample weight (I guessed him at 5’10” and around 260 pounds), causing him to belch most confidently.  “Ooops, sorry.”

“No worries– gotta make room in there for more tacos, right?”

“You’re right.  They’re gonna get stuffed in right on top at this point.  Ooof, my belly….” Jake caressed his mountain of a pudgeball.  As he was rubbing around his fattened midsection, one of the teenage boys delivered the tray this time– with a big smile on his face.

“Enjoy, sir,” said the taco maker.  

Jake didn’t hesitate with cramming more taco in his mouth, his ruggedly handsome face barely evident of the extra weight that he carried below.  “Damn.  These are even better than the last ones– they’re bursting with meat and cheese.”

Throughout his gorging, Jake and Heather filled in the blanks about their story.  Jake is a stay-at-home dad to her daughter, but there seemed to be some tension around the fact that he mostly just ate and played video games all day.  Not only had the housework been mostly neglected, Jake had gained a hundred pounds in a year on food that Heather’s “extreme couponer” friends had helped them acquire.  

Heather said, “I can always tell what kind of a day that Jake had and how clean the house is by the size of his belly when I get home,” she said, starting to giggle and jiggle, “a hungry Jake means that most everything is sparkly and I’ll be making a great big dinner.  On the other hand, if Jake’s belly enters the room before he does, it means the only thing he’s been cleaning out is the refrigerator.  At least I won’t have to make as much for dinner.”

“Oh, now you can’t fault him for enjoying his food, now can ya, Heather?”

She laughed again. “No, I guess I can’t.  I kind of like that big tummy.”

“Of course you do, Heather!” I affirmed, watching the last of a fifth additional taco get swallowed down the hatch.  Summing up every ounce of courage I had, I slowly reached over and patted Jake’s distended belly.  “…and it’s getting bigger!”  The skin on Jake’s midsection was taut like sausage casing and he was incredibly solid. 

“Oh my God I’m so full,” Jake moaned.  “I wanna finish all of these tacos but I think my stomach is gonna have a blowout!” 

“You’ll be fine.  Just think ‘Thanksgiving’!”  I offered.  Jake responded positively and found renewed vigor in devouring his way through the final seven tacos with a bonus refill on his Coke.  After that, there was no denying that Jake was stuffed into place and the restaurant was going to be closing soon.  He was forced into more of a leaned-back position by his way-oversized balloon of a belly, so heavy and dazed that he softly groaned when I tapped the side of his belly.  “There, Jake, you ate 18 tacos.  One full taco more than Cameron.  Not to forget or minimize, but 18 tacos yet on top of that great big dinner.  You’re a winner,” I told him, “you’re a great big winner!”

“Ooof… unhhh… too… much… food…” Jake stammered, planting both hands on his enormously rotund belly, “stick me with a pin and just pop me already!  Put me out of my misery!”

“Oh honey,” Heather cooed from across the table.  “Just relax and breathe.  Well, as best you can.”  It was obvious to everyone at the table that Jake was breathing very shallowly and winced sometimes when he’d attempt a deeper breath.

Jake tried to shift his bulk forward and could scarcely bend in the middle to allow forward movement.  One of the teenage boys came over to reclaim the decimated tray and inform us that they were locking the doors soon.  “Wow, dude– you ate all of those tacos!  And we stuffed those things…don’t tell anybody…we’ll get in trouble.  We just wanted to see if you could eat all of ‘em… and whoaaaaa…” the tall lad, his mouth remaining open in awe, reached down and gave Jake’s majestic bellyful a slight squeeze with his hand.  “Chad, oh my God, you gotta come over here,” the teenager called to his kitchen cohort.  

Chad’s reaction was of equal or greater admiration.  Jake, now with a gangly teenage boy on either side of him, must have felt like a hog being judged at the County Fair.  Chad could barely contain himself, “oh man, can I rub it for luck?”

Jake managed a smile and nodded.  Chad quickly wiped his hand on his shirt before applying it to Jake’s bowed-out front and rubbing it around in large circles.  “I can’t believe it.  This is the fullest belly I’ve ever seen!”

“Well, as long as you’re both here, can you help me up?” Jake asked, tilting his face to look at each of the teenagers, seeming completely unable to move outside of simple head movements.  Each took hold under Jake’s moist arm pit and exerted themselves as they provided required assistance to the overstuffed daddy.  Once Jake had pressed himself up and achieved a fully upright position, he relaxed his enormous gut and allowed it to blossom to ultimate bulging size.  Jake lazily tilted his head down to peer at the roundness that dominated the view and proclaimed, “holy shit!  I’m pregnant!”  

Chad’s friend Roger, who had introduced himself while he strained to get Jake up off of his hefty butt, grinned from ear to ear and agreed with Jake.  “No lie, dude.  And that is like a twenty pound food baby there.”

Chad chimed in, “probably twins.  He’s way big.”

Jake smirked and tried to move from the spot on which he’d been stood.  His arms flapped out on either side to steady himself, then he began to wobble up towards the front counter.  Jake’s bellysphere dominated the room and all anyone could do was marvel at his slow, deliberate, exhaustive movement.  Then, almost like a peal of thunder, Jake emitted a long and windy belch.  “Oh yeah, that’s better,” the giant bloated daddy shared.  Roger and Chad were still close by Jake, watching him wobble and making sure he didn’t trip and fall on that magnificent gut, which would surely burst.  

Chad walked up alongside Jake and looked down at the broad expanse of thick round belly.  Without asking, he put one hand on Jake’s shoulder to steady himself and began rubbing the engorged warm ball of flesh again.  “Okay, big guy, I’m building up some more luck.”  Jake didn’t seem to mind and welcomed Roger, who took over the other side.  After all, a gut the size of Jake’s required multiple sets of hands to please.

Heather and her daughter grew tired of waiting and excused themselves to go outside.  Jake seemed to thoroughly enjoy the attention he was receiving and offered several manly belches in payment.  Roger sniffed the air and said, “I smell tacos.  Lots of tacos.”

I piped up.  “Eighteen tacos, guys.  Including the dozen of the ‘stuffed’ tacos you made for him.  Like I said before, he’s a winner.  He deserves a big prize.”

“Well, how about some dessert?” Chad suggested.

“Oh man, I dunno.  I had a whole pound cake and strawberries and whipped cream earlier after dinner.”

“Wait a minute– you already ate dinner tonight?” Chad asked incredulously. 

Jake nodded and shared the menu with them from his homecooked meal.  

The two teenagers looked at each other with a rich combination of shock, admiration and happiness.  “Damn.  This guy is a total glutton, Roger.”

Roger patted around on Jake’s massive belly and ended up thumping the lower part of his titanic bulge, in the shady region south of his belly button.  “See, that first heavy meal is already way down here in this big fat puffball of a belly,” Roger moved his hand up the lengthy curve of Jake’s gut until he dwelled over the more solidly packed stomach region under his ribs.  “And this here stomach,” Roger smacked it once to produce a surprised grunt, “can stretch to hold just a little dessert.”

“Oh, come on, guys…” Jake protested.  

“Good thing he’s so damn fat he can hardly move.  He won’t be able to get away,” Roger confidently stated with a devilish grin.  “That’s one thing about an overeater– they really don’t want to roll away from more food!”

I enjoyed the view as the two teenage boys pushed Jake against the counter after having found a soft-sided case on which to sit his protruding gut.  They knew that they could get more food in him standing rather than sitting, and they wasted no time in shoving desserts down his gullet.  Gooey donut bites hot and fresh out of the fryer dripping in icing, churros and ice cream sandwiches made with chocolate cookies, and even a milkshake they fashioned out of melting extra ice cream were all destined towards Jake’s increasing mass.  Jake couldn’t help but love the flavors and textures, absorbing more filler into his over-capacity stomach.  

“Good, good!  All of those extra calories should fatten him up nicely!”

“How much do you weigh, Jake?”

Jake could scarcely find time to answer with all of the nibbles being force-fed into his admittedly-willing mouth.  “I’m not sure,” he managed to get out, “300 I think.”

“300, huh?  That’s an awesome size, Jake,” I walked around the counter and tapped his rock-hard stomach with my index finger.  “You need to be fed well and often to maintain that weight.  But you need to be stuffed extra tight once in awhile to grow, because, after all, you do want to be bigger, right?”

The moment came when no more donut bites could be forced down Jake’s gullet and icing rimmed his lips like an angel’s halo.  

Suddenly, the outside door opened producing a rather irritated Heather.  “Are you com–” she stopped speaking as she realized that object of her desires was in a thoroughly gorged state, surrounded by guys who were looking at him like he was their next meal.  “Jake. I’m ready to go.”

As exceedingly difficult as it was for him to manage movement, he wobbled his way over to the door, looking back with an expression of thanks, if not painful gratitude.  

Once the door closed, I looked at Chad and Roger.  “So, see you next Tuesday?”


anonymous asked:

I totally understand what you did, is lile when I went to visit my brother in conneticut, one of his neighbours saw me and recomend me to try the tacos there because they'll blow my mind, I was like what? And he said "yeah, I mean you are mexican right?", my face was like ??? "Do you not understand that I eat more things, not only tacos right?"

omg… anon i am boiling for you. these microaggressions are never okay.

(frankly, i hate the term “microaggression” to begin with because it has a way of delegitimizing the upset over the circumstance. it’s meant to be used as a comparative term to distinguish it from macroagressions, but i think the term itself by association with “micro” has a way of downplaying the racist act. i mean the reason why we have so many instances of microagressions in the first place is because of the insidious normalization of racism that gives undue significance to the intent of the aggressor as a means to suppress the justified anger of those who are discriminated against.)

This posted before i was done but basically we get told we “take things to seriously” or “so-and-so didnt mean it maliciously” which is fine. But i wish people would see it more from the opposite perspective.


While I’m writing up this HC…Who wants to see a list of all the foods I can no longer have if I want to try and resolve my ‘condition’?? (Ready for some food depression?)

Goji Berries
Pepino Melons
Tobacco [Wut o_O]
Cayenne Pepper
Most Fruits [I can still have raspberries?]
Grains [So nothing that makes life worth living?]
Beans [Bruh, for real?]
Onion [State Fairs will never be the same]
Taro [There goes bubble tea]
Water Chestnuts
Beets [TBH, I won’t miss this]
Condiments that contain sugar or unhealthy fats
Sugar Free Diet Foods
Candy [Halloween is ruined canceled]

This also means all of that delicious Polish food I love so much will never be part of my life again. Excuse me while I go cry in a corner.