sausage casing


Mola mola munch munch! Target feeding with our two young ocean sunfish is a piece of cake. Both beasties have learned to hit their Mola marks to dine on tong-delivered delicacies!

Even though ocean sunfish have a brain the size of a walnut, they can be trained to recognize a visual dinner-bell (a “target” in the biz) to come over and be fed by hand. 

The molas are fed a special blend of food inside a sausage casing, allowing us to study how fast these animals grow. Our daily tailgates with the molas prove that you can be bean-brained brainiac!


And what a team it is.

Dear Spanx,

I appreciate your making sausage casings for the human body; it may not always make me look skinnier, but it does make me feel more restricted, which is something I’m into. However, can I just offer a suggestion?


Because when I’m stuffed into a beyond skin-tight body glove, I may have to pee. And when I do pee, I don’t like spending an extra twenty minutes pulling off an undergarment and then another twenty minutes pulling it back on. In case you forgot, allow me to remind you that your products are clothing that stretch from my junk all the way to my upper junk, designed to squeeze me so much that people will think I’m thin. So needless to say, it’s quite laborious to throw that bad boy off and on while groaning and stumbling in a small public restroom stall.

Thanks for your consideration,

Alexi Vrabel

Why do history classes always insist on making reform movements look as delicate as a tea party? Because I just learned that after Winston Churchill mocked the women’s suffrage movement, a suffragist jumped on his train and beat him with a dog whip and honestly I feel robbed that this wasn’t Day One material in high school.

anonymous asked:

Had a dude ask for my phone number today while I was scanning his groceries. I promptly told him, "You're sweet, but unfortunately I have to decline, since I don't really swing that way. Not into men." Y'know, since I'm a lesbian. His genius response? "You shouldn't go around telling people that. You'll never get a boyfriend that way!" 😐

That’s kind of the point. Why buy the sausage if you don’t care for sausage? Especially in cases where it’s expired. -Abby


Rigatoni & Sunday Sauce 

On Monday, I had a little time to get a bit of cooking done, and I decided that I wanted it to be a labor of love. I’ve posted my Sunday Sauce recipe before, but I will post it once again. I served it over some rigatoni, and this made for a great dinner, and amazing leftovers. I do apologize for not posting as frequently, but I have been going through a bit of a rough patch, so please keep me in your good thoughts! I’ll be back posting soon. 

Ingredients for Sunday Sauce

2 ½ cans of whole, peeled San Marzano tomatoes

1 large yellow onion, diced

1 lb ground beef

½ lb ground turkey

½ lb ground sirloin

1 lb Italian sausage, removed from casing

4 cloves garlic, minced

¾ cup red wine

Freshly minced parsley and basil

Olive oil

Red pepper flakes

Salt and pepper to taste

Directions for Sunday Sauce

In a food processor, pulse the tomatoes until they are completely broken down, with few chunks

In a large pot, heat a few tbsp of olive oil over medium heat.

Add in the ground meat and cook until browned. Season with salt and pepper.

Once all of the ground meat has browned, remove from the pot and set aside.

Repeat the above steps with the Italian sausage and set aside.

Add in the onion and cook for a few minutes until it begins to develop color, about 5 minutes. If needed, add a tbsp of oil into the pot so that the onions do not scorch.

Add in the garlic and cook for 30 seconds.

Before adding the meat, deglaze the pan with the red wine, being sure to scrape the fond (brown bits) from the bottom, if any.

Add in the meat and cook for 2 minutes.

Add in the tomatoes, season generously with salt and pepper and red pepper flakes.

Bring the sauce to a boil and let boil for 3 minutes.

Reduce the heat to a low simmer and partially cover with a lid and let simmer for 3.5 hours, stirring once every 25 minutes being sure to scrape the bottom.

When close to finished, season with salt and pepper if needed and add in fresh basil and parsley. Dried oregano would also be a nice touch here.


I don’t have a problem with my weight, but clothing companies sure do

I feel like I have limped along to get to this Friday, but I am SO glad to be here!  It is just so oppressively hot here in Texas (heat index of 108 today…) and with so much humidity.  It really affects my mood, and I feel so drained this time of year.  I’ve been feeling a bit down on myself lately, too.  I put on one of my smaller pairs of exercise pants to go to the gym on Thursday and it felt like I was trying to squeeze my legs into sausage casings…rough on the ol’ ego there…ugh!

It’s so obnoxious how something so minor can throw off your whole balance of self-acceptance.  So, although I didn’t go to the gym today (Friday isn’t a usual gym day), I got my butt out there and did laps.

I also got a beautiful card from my former boss for taking her out to lunch and bringing her some meals and books before I went on my trip…but then at the end of her note, she told me that her cancer has spread to her kidneys and brain.  :(  It’s really looking bad, and this is her FIFTH round of fighting.  She just doesn’t have it in her anymore (which I COMPLETELY “get,” but her husband is having a hard time accepting that).  Between that news and the news in general, I think I might just mix up a pitcher of margaritas even though it’ll just be the husband and I to drink them… 

Diana’s Daily Lines - “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone” (Book 9)

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #Book9 #BackwoodsEtiquette #noitsnotfinished #nowherenear#butitsgoingfine #dontworry

My breath steamed white in the dimness of the smoke-shed. No fire had been lit in here for over a month, and the air smelt of bitter ash and the tang of old blood.

“How much do you think this thing weighs?” Brianna put both hands on the shoulder of the enormous black and white hog lying on the crude table by the back wall and leaned her own weight experimentally against it. The shoulder moved slightly—rigor had long since passed, despite the cold weather—but the hog itself didn’t budge an inch.

“At a guess, it originally weighed somewhat more than your father. Maybe three hundred pounds on the hoof?” Jamie had bled and gralloched the hog when he killed it; that had probably lightened his load by a hundred pounds or so, but it was still a lot of meat. A pleasant thought for the winter’s food, but a daunting prospect at the moment.

I unrolled the pocketed cloth in which I kept my larger surgical tools; this was no job for an ordinary kitchen knife.

“What do you think about the intestines?” I asked. “Usable, do you think?”

She wrinkled her nose, considering. Jamie hadn’t been able to carry much beyond the carcass itself—and in fact had dragged that—but had thoughtfully salvaged twenty or thirty pounds of intestine. He’d roughly stripped the contents, but two days in a canvas pack hadn’t improved the condition of the uncleaned entrails, not savory to start with. I’d looked at them dubiously, but put them to soak overnight in a tub of salt water, on the off chance that the tissue hadn’t broken down too far to prevent their use as sausage casing.

“I don’t know, Mama,” Bree said reluctantly. “I think they’re pretty far gone. But we might save some of it.”

“If we can’t, we can’t.” I pulled out the largest of my amputation saws and checked the teeth. “We can make square sausage, after all.” Cased sausage was much easier to preserve; once properly smoked, they’d last indefinitely. Sausage patties were fine, but took more careful handling, and had to be packed into wooden casks or boxes in layers of lard for keeping…we hadn’t any casks, but–

“Lard!” I exclaimed, looking up. “Bloody hell–I’d forgotten all about that. We don’t have a kettle, bar the kitchen cauldron, and we can’t use that.” Rendering lard took several days, and the kitchen cauldron supplied at least half our cooked food, to say nothing of hot water.

“Can we borrow one?” Bree glanced toward the door, where a flicker of movement showed. “Jem, is that you?”

“No, it’s me, auntie.” Germain stuck his head in, sniffing cautiously. “Mandy wanted to visit Rachel’s _petit bonbon_, and _Grand-pere _ said she could go if Jem or me would take her. We threw bones and he lost.”

“Oh. Fine, then. Will you go up to the kitchen and fetch the bag of salt from Grannie’s surgery?”

“There isn’t any,” I said, grasping the pig by one ear and setting the saw in the crease of the neck. “There wasn’t much, and we used all but a handful soaking the intestines. We’ll need to borrow that, too.”

I dragged the saw through the first cut, and was pleased to find that while the fascia between skin and muscle had begun to give way—the skin slipped a little with rough handling—the underlying flesh was still firm.

“I tell you what, Bree,” I said, bearing down on the saw as I felt the teeth bite between the neck bones, “it’s going to take a bit of time before I’ve got this skinned and jointed. Why don’t you call round and see which lady might lend us her rendering kettle for a couple of days, and a half-pound of salt to be going on with?”

“Right,” Bree said, seizing the opportunity with obvious relief. “What should I offer her? One of the hams?”

“Oh, no, auntie,” said Germain, quite shocked. “That’s much too much for the lend of a kettle! And ye shouldna offer anyway,” he added, small fair brows drawing together in a frown. “Ye dinna bargain a favor. She’ll ken ye’ll give her what’s right.”

She gave him a look, half questioning, half amused, then glanced at me. I nodded.

“I see I’ve been gone too long,” she said lightly, and giving Germain a pat on the head, vanished on her errand

Cursed Speedos

This is a commission piece for someone who wanted to chronicle the trials and tribulations of some unfortunate swimmers and their cursed swim wear. If you’d like to commission me for something, just send me a message :)

“Hey, Kai - did you get the new swimsuits?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, coach gave ‘em to me last week.” He replied.

“You gunna wear them?”

“Well, we sort of have to,” Kai said, non-committally.

“Yeah, but, don’t they seem a little weird?”

“What’re you talking about, dude?”

Steve raised an eye-brow. “Bright pink? And with weird spiral designs on the back?”

“Well, no…” Kai trailed off. He didn’t even bother mentioning that neon pink wasn’t at all in the school’s colours, but the coach had insisted he wear it at the next practice under threat of being dropped from the team. Still, it did feel weird to Kai, and as he and Steve stripped in the locker room, they both reached into their bags to retrieve goggles and the aforementioned speedo swimsuits.

They really were odd. Bright, pink, thin nylon, and that odd spiral insignia on the backside, it looked more like a joke gift than official, professional swimwear. Steve and Kai just held the articles of clothing before them, knowing without even putting them on that there would be absolutely nothing left to the imagination once donned. They were both procrastinating, but practice was soon. One of them would have to be brave.

Kai was always the braver of the two. He shrugged, stripped off his clothing, and hopped in the pink speedo as fast as he could. It actually took several minutes of bending and contorting before he had them on comfortably, the pink fabric seemingly painted on the swimmers lythe and tight musculature. He winced, and presented himself to Steve, who looked on skeptically.

“How’s it feel?” He asked,

“It’s a little tight,” Kai said with a wince.

“Yeah, looks it,” Steve said with a smirk, before shucking his own underpants and slipping into his own pink briefs. Steve was the taller of the two, and he seemed to have more trouble than Kai actually getting the swimsuit around his waist, contorting comically while only managing to sneak the suit inches up his bulging quads. Eventually he was successful, and the two made their way to the showers to scrub themselves before heading out to the pool.

As they both walked out from the showers, they would both reach behind and continually adjust their speedos. Kai could see it was riding up Steve’s ass a little too much as he kept picking it out between his cheeks, and he sympathised as he felt the same discomfort in his own crack. They chuckled nervously to one another, but it was really becoming distracting. Several other members of the swim team were already swimming their practice laps and didn’t notice, but the 2 life guards present could see the tightly clad swimmers were having an unpleasant time. Kai could even see one of the lifeguards smiling back at him, which made his cheeks flush red.

Having finally reached the lanes, Kai noticed something else strange. Steve had always been somewhat flat in the ass department, but now he was sporting what could only be described as a bubble butt. The pink speedo seemed to be emphasizing the deeper cleft of his crack, and he noticed that Steve no longer needed to pick at the sheer fabric as it was stretched tight across his backside. Maybe he’d been working out more lately? Kai was still being driven mad by the garment, and envied the taller man’s resolve in the face of a fashion fiasco.

“Alright, let’s do some laps,” Steve announced, then got on the diving board. Kai was still fidgeting as Steve dove in, making somewhat more of a splash than normal. Kai didn’t think too much of it though, and got on the diving board himself to ready himself. Once Steve had gotten far enough away, he dove in as well, diving slightly deeper than he’d intended, but surfaced easily and began to stroke efficiently toward the other end of the pool.

About halfway through his lap Kai noticed that something felt… strange. He was having trouble maintaining his pace, breathing harder than normal each time he surfaced for air. And the stupid speedo was feeling more uncomfortable than ever. It felt like it was cutting into him! Kai gamely maintained his pace until he got to the other end of the pool, but instead of kicking off the wall to go back the other way, he hauled himself out to catch a breather and see what could be done about that damned swim suit.

As Kai was hauling himself out (something that felt more difficult than normal as well), he noticed Steve was standing beside the pool too. That was odd. He walked over to Steve, and noticed something else was off - Steve looked different. He was still tall, but even from behind Kai could tell he didn’t have nearly as much definition as before. He looked like he might have eaten something he was allergic too, and was swelling up, the swimsuit giving him a distinct muffin-top.

Kai tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I just - I feel a little weird.”

“You sure? ‘Cause it looks like you may be-” but Steve cut him off.

“I said I’m fine!  Let’s just, let’s just do another lap,” Steve nearly shouted, then stomped off towards the diving board. Kai couldn’t help but notice how Steve’s ass had a distinct bounce to every step he took. It was something he definitely couldn’t put down to a few extra squats at the gym.

They reached the diving boards and Steve hauled himself up and dove into the pool, the splash this time much larger than normal and definitely would slow him down on his lap. Kai watched Steve swim for a bit, far slower than he normally would, even on a practice lap, and instead of diving in for his own lap Kai walked to the other end of the pool. Something was definitely wrong here and he needed to let Steve know.

Kai was easily able to walk to the other end of the pool before Steve could swim there, and he fidgeted and picked at his speedo while his friend slowly swam up to him. Finally reaching the end, Steve looked up to see Kai standing there with a look of concern painted on his face. Peering down at Steve’s head, Kai could see more changes; Steve’s chiseled features looked much softer, his cheeks rounder, and everything about him seemed swollen and puffy.

Speaking quickly before Steve could dive back and swim away, Kai blurted out, “Hey, I think you may have eaten something bad, you look all bloated.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t say anything for a moment, simply taking in air. He’d been winded from just swimming one length of the pool, and even he had to admit something was very wrong. He hauled himself out, and Kai could only stare in shock at what had happened to his friend.

It was like he was looking at a completely different person. Gone was the lithe, athletic man he’d known for years. In his place was a pudgy, flabby, out of shape caricature. There was not a spec of definition to be found anywhere on his once olympion body. Instead, everything was thick, plush and rounded. The flat slabs of beef that were his pecs had plumped up into soft mounds, tipped with nipples much larger than Kai remembered. His ripped abdominals were gone, replaced by a punchy belly and burgeoning love handles. The bubble butt had inflated into huge, round spheres of jiggling cellulite. The speedo, already too small when it was first put on, looked like it was painted to his skin, the fabric so taught it was practically transparent. Steve’s soft flesh was billowing around the edges, seeking escape from it’s manufactured prison.

Steve could see Kai’s slack-jawed stare, and looked down at himself. The sound he made wasn’t quite a scream, but it was loud and it drew the attention of every person not under water. The other members of the swim team waiting in line for their own practice laps started to giggle, and one of the life guards was openly pointing at the ridiculous display. Steve looked up at the staring crowd and blushed beet-red, mortified at the public ruination of his once perfect body.

Kai knew they had to get out of their, fast. “C’mon, let’s go get you some help.” He then moved to try and shield his friend from the chuckling onlookers. As soon as he moved in front of Steve, Kai heard him let out a small moan. He turned to face him, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Steve just pointed at Kai’s lower body, and murmured, “It’s happening to you too.”

“What?!” Kai blurted, then looked down. Everything seemed normal, but wait- what was wrong with his legs? They looked thicker than normal, and he couldn’t see his quads, or even his knees. Kai then knew Steve was right, but it still didn’t seem as bad as him. Then he felt behind him, and felt a lot more ass than he remembered. Whereas Steve had inflated generally with some emphasis on his rear, Kai was blowing up entirely from the bottom up. His thighs, calves, and ass were now enormous bags of jiggling meat compared to his somewhat more toned upper body, but even that was slowly disappearing under an advancing tide of fat. He could see his stomach slowly losing its definition, his chest smoothing out, his arms thickening with flesh. Still feeling behind himself he could tell the fabric of his speedo was in even worse shape than Steve’s. They had to get out of there before they blew right out of their swimsuits. Salvation was in sight; the change rooms were on the opposite side of the pool, not even 100 feet away. All they had to do was get there.

Kai turned back to Steve, and could see he hadn’t stopped swelling. He seemed fatter than ever, now with a jowly double chin, and tits that bounced whenever he moved. His arms were like giant hams, and now rested at an odd angle from the ring of fat that encircled his chest. His gut now folded over the top of his swimsuit, which by now looked like an overstuffed sausage casing, ready to burst at any moment. From the look of agony on Steve’s face he knew it was getting incredibly painful for him.

He grabbed Steve’s chubby hand, and tried to lead him to the change rooms. He found it much harder to walk now, as each enormous thigh had to travel around the other, giving him an odd, waddling gait. Worse was how he could feel his ass constantly shaking, a never ending earthquake of buttery fat only getting worse with each step. They stumbled on, and Kai found he had to lean forward to counterbalance the massive weight that hung from his rear. Soon they were only a dozen or so feet away from the change room. They just had to go a little bit further.


Kai had been waiting for that sound, at as he heard it he felt a chill run down his spine. HE looked down, and while it was only the slightest tear on his left thigh he knew that another step would be the end of his speedo. He hesitated, unwilling to take another step.

“Oh, no…”

From behind him he heard Steve’s low moan, and then another tear, much louder than the one he had suffered. Looking over his shoulder he could just make out Steve, now truly obese, the tattered remains of his swimsuit dangling from between the fold of his belly and ass, a look of utter defeat and shame painting his features in sorrow, his eyes red-rimmed from impending tears.

Ever the braver of the two, Kai yanked Steve’s hand and took another step towards the change room. He heard the rip, tear, and the coolness of the open air over his gargantuan, jiggling ass. The entire pool was jeering now at the two naked fatties, one huge and blob-like, the other enormous and pear-shaped, as they stumbled clumsily through the door into the men’s change room.

anonymous asked:

Hi, I love snakes, and I also love rodents. Are there any types of snake that can do without eating rodents and eat other food instead, like eggs or fish etc.? If not, I just won't get a snake 'cause I wouldn't forcefully change its diet.

Hi there!

Yours is a common conundrum that until recently did not have an easy answer. While many snakes such as garters and egg-eating snakes can survive on diets that do not include rodents, these snakes are less common in the pet trade and can be tricky to care for or difficult to handle. Similarly, their food can be hard to obtain unless you plan well ahead of time and have a reliable source.

Fortunately, there is now a product called Reptilinks that consists of whole prey ground up in a sausage casing that you can offer as an alternative to rodents. They have several blends that are perfect for different species of snake and they’re at a similar price point to equivalently-sized prey animals. 
Most common species of snake will take to Reptilinks without a fuss, though ball pythons can be tricky to convert. 

The best part is that Reptilinks include everything: Fur, feathers, bone, organs, etc. so they’re nutritionally just as good as a rodent. In some cases they’re even better because they allow you to offer prey that is closer to the snake’s natural diet. In the wild, I very seriously doubt that any snakes eat nothing but corn-fed domesticated rodents. Reptilinks give me the freedom to choose different blends, too, so that I can tailor my snakes’ nutrition over the course of a year without having to switch prey size or worry about my snakes getting stuck on a prey type and rejecting anything else.

I hope that this helps you to make an informed decision on whether or not a snake is the right pet for you, and I admire your resolve to let a snake be a snake even if it were to mean you wouldn’t have one of your own. :)

Happily, you don’t have to choose between loving your rodent pets and loving your reptile pets!

Ahle Worschd from Northern Hesse

This delicacy from the Northern Hessian region has come to some fame as a high-quality slow food. The name means “old sausage”

It is made from heavy pigs whose meat is minced immediately while still warm – a processing only used in Northern Hesse and the Thuringian Eichsfeld region. This centuries-old production process can only take place in small in small butcheries ensuring that this sausage can never be a mass-produced industrial product. No artificial flavors, flavor enhancers or preservatives are used. It may be spiced with garlic, coriander, nutmeg, pepper, allspice, mustard seed, and minimal amounts of salt, sugar, and nitrates.

The sausage is produced in ring-shaped (”Runde”) or straight (”Stracke”) casings and may or may not be lightly smoked. Depending of the diameter and kind of casing, the sausages are air-dried in a sausage chamber at temperatures below 15 °C for three to seven months until they have lost at least 1/3 of their original weight. Afterwards, they can be stored at room temperature for up to one year. Right before consumption, they are cut into 2 to 3 mm thick slices.

Enjoy on a buttered slice of hearty rye bread and you’re in heaven.

Gypsy Curse - Part 1 and 2

The club was full of a writhing sea of humanity, all moving in time to the driving house music. The audience was mostly male, being one of the more popular gay clubs in town. It wasn’t where I’d prefer to spend my Saturday nights, but here I could find someone who would be… susceptible to my persuasions. Mostly since everyone else assumed just as I did: this was where people went looking for encounters.

I spotted mine in the middle of the dance floor. Average height, cute, slim, stylish jeans, cut-off t-shirt exposing his midriff, a 6 pack on display. Not as muscular as me, but athletic. I went up to dance with him to confirm he was drunk, or high, or stoned, or more. A place like this there was no telling what he was on. That was why I was here.

We danced together, made it clear my interest, and he flirted back, ran a hand down my chest, grinded his ass on my groin. Yes, he’d do just nicely.

I asked if he’d like to go someplace quieter. He smiled and took my hand, lead me to the bathroom, into a stall. I had meant his place, or a bathhouse, but I guess he was impatient. This suited me just fine.

We kissed in the stall, I ran my hands up and down his smooth, taut flesh. I was already hard, but not from his toned body or the affections he lay upon me. I was excited for what the immediate future had in store for him.

This one was very forward. He undid my fly, fished out my cock, knelt down, brought tongue to turgid head. I knew then it would begin, and I leaned against the stall door and left him to his work. It was the view I was here for.

As he licked my cock like an ice cream cone, staring up at me, I could see the lines of his face soften, his high cheekbones disappearing. In moments I knew he would no longer have a 6-pack. He continued licking, and I encouraged him with a plaintive sound, goading him further, letting him know I enjoyed his attention.

The ploy worked, and he dove down on my dick, taking it all the way to the root and just held me there a few moments. Now I could see the beginnings of flesh pooching on the waist of his slim fit jeans, a ring of fat now encircling his abdomen. His ass was growing too, going from a flat shelf to well rounded mounds in moments. Soon they were skin-tight, and as he bobbed up and down my length I could hear the creaking noise of jeans reaching  breaking point. Of course, had he been sober and otherwise unoccupied I’m sure he would have noticed by now, but again, this was why I was here.

He continued, more bobbing, more licking, and now his face had rounded out and there was the beginnings of a double chin. Everything about him was thicker, wider, straining what little clothes he wore. His exposed middle now poured over his jeans waist, a muffin-top looking more and more extreme. His cut-off T was becoming a tube-top bra as his chest inflated into a perky pair of man-boobs, the sleeves looking like over-stuffed sausage casings as his arms inflated with fat.

When his over-tight jeans finally ripped loudly due to his expanding rear, he hesitated, finally noticing something was wrong. I had to take control now, so I grabbed his head forcefully and began fucking it, driving my cock in and out of his mouth. Dutifully he remained, now with both hands and knees on the floor to hold up his increasing weight, his expanding body causing gaps and tears to appear all over his clothes. I would grunt and moan to cover the noises of tearing cloth, those sounds much less out of place in a club bathroom stall.

The closer I got, the faster his fattening became. His jeans button finally snapped, and his belly surged forward, hanging pendulously from his now rotund frame. The bottom of his jeans now completely frayed, exposing calfs thicker than his thighs were mere moments ago. His torn seat exposed growing globes which now wobbled in time with my thrusts. In fact his entire body now jiggled with each movement, and the sight alone did more for my arousal than his mouth ever could.

Finally with a sudden push, I shoved my entire length down his throat and came. Now he expanded rapidly, as each jet of cum down his gullet added dozens of pounds to his body. His jeans completely tore in half, his belly surging forth to rest comfortably on the floor. His ass became immense, each sphere now filling the stall. His shirt virtually exploded off him, his whole body quaking from the violent release of so much constrained flesh. Even the fat of his neck crept up the back of his head to be felt between my fingers.

My flow began to ebb, then cease. He had taken on truly elephantine proportions, and even with my help he could barely heave his now immense body off the ground. Only torn scraps remained, and they did nothing to conceal his morbid obesity. A double-chinned, chubby cheeked face peered back at me atop shoulders with no discernable neck, sloping into huge sagging breasts each tipped with silver-dollar sized areola. All of it dwarfed by an enormous belly which poured over his groin, partially obscuring his genitals. What little could be seen had been swallowed up in an advancing tide of pubic fat. Everything about him jiggled and quaked.

He was beautiful.

If my condition hadn’t prevented it, I would have brought him home for a second round, where I’d ride that colossal ass until dawn. But alas, it could prove fatal to someone already so large. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him, hard, tasting my own jizz. I let the kiss linger so I could grasp his titanic belly with both hands and shake it, feeling his whole body quiver and quake.

This last seemed to bring my conquest to his senses, and he broke our kiss and looked down, an expression of dawning terror forming on his features as he saw a vast expanse of jiggling pink flesh before him. I helpfully opened the stall and brought him to the bathroom mirror, where he could see just how enormous he had become.

I left him there, horrified, pawing dumbly at his newly acquired obesity. But not before I took a quick snapshot with my phone.

The following morning I posted the photo on my blog. By this point I had acquired quite the collection, all enormous men, all in varying degrees of shock or horror at their size. I even had quite the online following, with over 10000 page views last month alone. I think it’s the expressions that set me apart, that incredible beauty marred by such a terrified face. But what do I know? The ad revenue helps.

Just then I received an email from one of my online personal ads. It was from website into S&M. Someone named craig2319 was wondering if I could get together, today. This afternoon, infact. He was in town on business, had a hotel, and was very into bondage. He would like to tie himself to the bed, blindfolded, gagged, and then have me enter, whip and then fuck him. No greetings. Nothing said. Just walk in the door and have my way with him.


I replied asking for a place and time, and received it within moments. 3:00 PM, The Regency, room 1104. A key would be waiting for me at the desk. He sent pics, a middle-aged man, maybe late thirties, trim, dark hair, but they were practically irrelevant. Nobody would recognize him in a few hours.

It seems my afternoon plans had been made.

I used to be normal. Intimate contact with another man hadn’t always resulted in him becoming spontaneously obese. But I’d always loved the larger-sized gentlemen, only ever been attracted to them. In the past if someone had gotten close enough to become my boyfriend, they would universally gain weight. I’d coax them into larger meals, goad them into having just one more chocolate, cajole them into one more scoop of ice cream. Eventually they would grow larger than they could tolerate, and then break it off and lose it all. It was heartbreaking for me. Eventually I simply became numb to it.

It was perhaps this numbness that caused my last relationship to end so spectacularly and leave me with my condition. It wasn’t the fact that I had caused him to blow up from 250 lbs to well over 350 lbs over the few months he’d been with me that had done us in. It was when I had cheated on him with someone nearly 500 lbs that had truly angered him. Had I known he had come from a long line of gypsy witchdoctors I may have reconsidered my indiscretion. Once he found out he placed a curse on me, the terms of which were said that if I were to become intimate with any man outside of true love, they would become more fat the longer we lay together.

I hadn’t believed him at first of course. Curses?  Ridiculous. Then I’d hooked up for the first time since our break, and when he ballooned to a blimp during our tryst I knew it to be true. My conquest was appalled, of course, and even tried to sue, but how could he? Gay sex didn’t make you fat. Even still, since then I’d been forced to ensure that my gallivanting was much more discrete, lest my partners take offense to becoming a fatty overnight.

Blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a bed is about as discreet as one can be.

I had no trouble picking up the room key and making my way to the room. The door opened easily with my keycard. The room was large, lavish, a presidential suite with a small kitchenette and living room. A suitcase full of clothing lay on the couch, a closet with ironed suits, and an open door to a darkened bedroom. I made my way inside and flicked on the lights.

There he lay at the centre of the king bed, blindfolded, gagged, both legs and one arm already chained to the bedposts. He was already towering erect, an impressive member arcing over his abdomen nearly as high as his belly button. On a dresser beside the bed was a collection of implements, whips, dildos, lubricants, and even more esoteric devices I didn’t recognize. I guessed I was to use at my own discretion and let my heart guide me.

I chuckled softly and removed my clothes. He moved his head slightly toward me, to let me know he knew I was there, and I made my way to the dresser. I had never really been a dom before. Dominant sure, but nothing like this. I picked what I thought to be a cat-o-nine-tails, a bottle of lube, and two condoms. I went back to the bed and laid my arsenal between his spread-eagle legs. Not sure where to begin, I did the obvious thing and went around the side to lock his remaining unbound arm. He gave a muffled groan and I watched his cock twitch. Apparently he was very into bondage. I gave his throbbing shaft a few playful tugs and was rewarded with a drop of pre from the slit and another muffled groan.

I went back to the foot of the bed and picked up the cat-o-nine-tails. I had never used one before, but I had the general idea. Beside his chest, I brought the whip down gently across his torso, not sure how much the weight of it would add to the impact. Apparently not much, as he gave an annoyed huff through the ball gag, although his dick twitched once more. More force this time, and now an appreciative moan. Yet more, a delighted squeal and a drip of pre falling to his abs. I beat him, again and again, each time the same muffled reaction, and even I was becoming aroused by his enthusiasm to the torture.

I wound up to whip him again, closer to his stomach, but this time I paused. His abs, once clearly defined, had softened somewhat, the crevices no longer quite so deep. I looked him over and noted since the beating began he had put on maybe 15 pounds. I hadn’t even touched him with my own flesh yet. I suppose the definition of intimate was fairly liberal to gypsies, which only made me more enthused to continue. I whipped him repeatedly, all the while watching him slowly inflate, far slower than had I simply put my dick in him. It was incredible foreplay for the both of us, him the beating, me the gradual fattening.

After ten minutes of my assault, his chest was bright red and there was not a mark of definition to be found. His abs had been replaced by a small pot, his pecs covered in a layer of fat just beginning to form delicious mounds. Neck, arms, legs, all had grown making him a much pudgier man, and wherever I beat him I would notice the beginning of a slight ripple in his flesh. I went lower on his body, whipping his upper thighs, delighted as I could see them grow thicker after every impact, the flesh jiggling enticingly. My conquest remained completely oblivious, a steady stream of pre-ejactulate forming a line connecting his cock to his budding belly.

I was enjoying beating this man fat more than I had thought I would, however I grew impatient. It was time for the main course. Tossing the whip aside, I broke open a condom wrapper and rolled it down his length, then applied the lubricant to myself liberally. Then, clambering atop his groin with a foot on either side of his hips I squatted, aligning his tip to my hole. I took a deep breath, then pushed down on his dripping cock head before stopping. He was impressively hung, and I needed a moment to accommodate him. His fattening picked up speed as I got used to his girth. With steadying hands on his belly I could feel my fingers spreading apart as his pot became a mound, then a true gut. Every part of him was becoming softer and rounder, and my own turgid organ jutted proudly over his growing belly.

Once the pain subsided and I was prepared, I lowered myself further. Each inch I descended added inches to his waist, going from pudgy to outright chubby in moments. I took his manhood slowly, savouring the feeling of fullness, his low moans mirroring my own. Finally I felt him bottom out as my ass met much thicker thighs, and I could already feel my legs spreading apart as his hips and belly broadened, feel myself rising higher as his ballooning rear rose his pelvis further from the mattress.  

I began to ride him, each gentle movement causing a ripple to flow through his entire body. It was intoxicating the way he jiggled in time with my gyrations, and I picked up speed. He was truly obese now, and I knew I’d have difficulty maintaining this position as he grew larger.

Suddenly I heard a muffled cough, then a groan and I could feel his heavy cock twitch within me. He’d just cum. Perhaps not so surprising, given how aroused he seemed before, but this was good timing as I couldn’t spread my legs any further, he had gotten so large. I carefully extracted myself, bow legged, giving his rotund belly a playful slap. He moved his head at this, the unfamiliar sound and touch curious, but without sight he still hadn’t quite caught on. This suited me, as I wasn’t quite done yet.

I flushed the used condom before returning to the bed to view my handiwork.  He was easily 350 lbs, perhaps more. Everything about him was round, smooth, jiggling softness, the peaks of his tits and belly seemingly in constant motion.  His member, still erect and impressively thick, seemed somewhat shorter as pubic fat swallowed the first inch or so. I pressed a hand on his groin, pushing the encroaching fat back and exposing his full length, before milking the last few drops. I could feel him growing again, the flesh expanding beneath my hand, my own erection throbbing and insistent. I would need to finish this soon.

Just then I noticed something on the bedside table which gave me an idea; it was a bottle of poppers. Grabbing the bottle, I unscrewed the caps and brought it to my sub’s nose. He already knew what that scent was of course, and he took several big whiffs before I brought the bottle back to the bedside table. I then went to the foot of the bed, unshackling his ankles. This brought a confused sound from him, but it was cut short as I hauled both quivering legs atop my shoulders, bending his knees as I pushed him forward, folding him up to expose his enormous rear. I quickly lubed myself and my enormous partner, and with one quick push entered him.

The poppers had made him pliant, and I easily slipped my full length into him, eliciting another muffled moan of pleasure and yet more pre from his surprisingly unrelenting erection. I wasted no time, and soon the room was filled with the sound of my firm pelvis slapping his flabby ass. With each slap he grew heavier, much quicker than before. Already the weight of his legs had become immense, and I could see the rest of him rippling like waves with each thrust. As his butt and thighs thickened it became harder and harder to plunge myself inside him, until just before the weight became too much I came, filling the condom before immediately being pushed out by his spreading ass.

I removed the spent condom and lay him back down, his lead lolling side to side from the brief fucking and the poppers. He was immense now, a towering blob of blubber beyond obesity. Each part of him was enormous, with folds appearing where it seemed more flesh simply couldn’t be added; chest, belly and thighs. The mattress sagged comically under his weight. His cock, once proudly large, was but a thick dripping nub erupting from a sea of pubic fat. Amazingly, I could tell he was still hard. I couldn’t leave him so unsatisfied.

I pushed back the fat as best I could and swallowed as much of his length as could be reached. I could feel his flesh advancing again, and it was a fight against time before his length was enveloped completely. Luckily he remained a quick shot, and in no time he filled my mouth with an impressive second load. I slurped it down theatrically, and pushed myself off his groin, hands sinking deeply into his gelatinous body.

That last bout of oral hadn’t caused him to grow too much, but then again, at his size even 30 pounds either way would go completely unnoticed. He took up most of the king size bed, and at some point during his growth his neck had grown thick enough to break the gag strap, the ball falling to one side of his triple-chinned face, and I could hear him moaning softly. Whether it was to his multiple orgasms or the feeling of suddenly becoming a beached whale it was hard to say, and ultimately irrelevant. My work here was done.

But first, a momento. Donning my clothes I took out my phone to take a few quick snapshots for the blog. This was one of my largest subjects, so I knew they’d be popular. Turning to leave, I hesitated; I couldn’t just leave him tied up. I turned back, undid his handcuffs, and then made my exit. Just before I shut the door, I could hear him utter a bewildered, “Wha-what?-”, but then the door closed, and I was gone.  


Lasagna Rolls

A quick, low calorie alternative to making an entire pan of pasta

380 calories per serving, serving: 1 roll


6 oz of lasagna noodles (about 12)

6 oz mild Italian turkey (or chicken) sausage; remove the casing if there is one

1 bag frozen spinach, thawed

Red pepper flakes, Italian seasoning, salt and pepper to season

1 cup Ricotta cheese

2 cups marinara or favorite pasta sauce

¾ cup shredded mozzarella

*all cheeses used were low-fat


Pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit

In a large pot, bring salted water to a boil and add the lasagna noodles. Cook them until there are 1 minute from  being done (al dente) - they will finish cooking in the oven. Once the noodles are done, drain the water and set them aside to cool before handling. If you want, you can toss them with a little bit of olive oil to keep them from sticking together

In a medium pan, heat about 2 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil over medium-high heat.

Brown the turkey sausage, breaking it up with a wooden spoon. Season with salt, pepper, Italian seasoning and red pepper flakes. Add the spinach and cook until the spinach wilts considerably.

In a large bowl, add the ricotta, season generously with salt and pepper

Once the spinach and turkey have cooked together, remove them from the heat and allow them to cool for a few minutes before handling

When ready, combine the ricotta with the turkey and spinach.

In a baking dish, spread a layer of the marinara/pasta sauce on the bottom

For assembly, take one lasagna noodle and lie it flat on a cutting board. Take a large spoonful of the filling and spread it on the noodle and roll the noodle, but not tightly or else the filling with overflow

Place the rolls into the baking dish as you assemble

Once all of the rolls are assembled, cover them with pasta sauce and top them with mozzarella cheese

Cover the pan with aluminum foil and bake for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, bake for another 10 minutes or until the cheese is ooey, gooey and bubbly.

Let stand for about 5 minutes before serving as the rolls will be piping hot.



I’m a little late for Culture Week and I could hardly resist at least writing for day 1–Folklore and Fairytales. And what better way to examine American myths than with the Leeds Devil?

The Jersey Devil, okay, I’m trash for South Jersey stuff cuz I live here

This myth is damn old, and yes the popular story is fiction by Ben Franklin. But a creature like this exists in Lenape mythology too unless my sources are just crap, though I haven’t got any definitive proof except for the fact that they called the Pine Barrens the “land of the dragon” So welcome to my other obsession!

Alfred walked down the dirt–sand, that’s all there was, sand–path away from the small town nestled in the middle of the the pine forest that was as old as time itself. The bugs that flew in the salty air created a melody that no one but the poor souls accidentally trapped in the dark sinkholes knew about. He wandered, knowing that was only a legend to scare the children, just like the monster haunting the Pine Barrens.

He knew the legend well, all the versions, and that it was Ben Franklin’s crazy story made up for his paper people attributed to the legend. At least that’s what historians say. Alfred adjusted his glasses when he saw a large ancient-looking cabin–or what was left of it. It reminded him of a night from a long time ago.

Screaming, horrible screaming, the sound of new life piercing the air. In the bedroom, Mother Leeds was in labor with the thirteenth child. Sweating and panting she was tired of the birthing process–the pain her husband would never witness while away. Twelve children in the other room, all of them anxious to meet their brother and to see their mother unharmed. The midwives inside prayed for her and coached her as the rain began to pour outside.

“May it be a devil!” Mother Leeds cried, cursing her husband and the thirteenth child she had to push out. The midwives ignored that damnation and helped deliver a healthy baby boy. One washed him off and handed him to his mother.

But then the baby transformed. Hair sprouted from its skin and in a sickening display he grew and took a new shape. A horse’s face on a dog’s head stared at his dear mother. His short front legs waved back and forth between her and his chest. She screamed again, out of fear, and pushed him away and onto the floor with some effort.

The midwives cowered as it stood eight feet tall on its hind legs. He stamped his hooves and flicked his forked tail, waiting. With the room petrified, its bat-like wings shot out and it roared. The midwives shrieked. He turned on them.

“Get out!” Mother Leeds snapped and pointed to the window while her midwives were cornered. The monster looked at her stone face and squawked once more before flying off.

Alfred remembered those days in his teen years. Rumors spread that a witch killed her entire family and cursed her thirteenth child to do the dirty work. He read that in the Gazette. And in being the country, he had to see if such a creature existed.

As a child he had heard Sweden refer to this area as “Drake Kill” but he was too scared to ask why. When he was negotiating with Lenape under William Penn, the bastard, he learned that they called the area popuessing, the land of the dragon. He would have asked more if tensions were lower. That never happened…

That initial trek into the sandy swamp was unnerving as a mere colony. He was lost by sunset with no hope of returning to civilization before the night fell. He recalled sleeping under a tree when a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air nearby. He shot up and came face to face with what he thought was a dragon. He saw the Jersey Devil.

Alfred laughed to himself at that memory–he nearly pissed himself! He pushed his glasses up his nose and patted his shoulder bag to make sure his offering was still there. He recalled that time he couldn’t find time to make an offering. 1909, the Jersey Devil was spotted on the other side of the state and in Pennsylvania. It stole and ate livestock but was unsatisfied. He returned to his pines after weeks of attacks and sightings. Alfred went to see him the second he got word. He was the country, he was built to survive animal attacks.

Alfred sat by a tree and looked to the canopy of the forest. He opened his bag and pulled out a cheesesteak and a pork roll. He unwrapped the now cold sandwich and took a huge bite of it. As he chewed he heard a terrible scream and smirked.

A dragon-like creature landed about five yards in front of him. Its eyes glowed red in the dim light and it hissed softly. Alfred tossed the pork roll, in its sausage casing, and the Devil caught it, gobbling it down as quickly as Alfred finished his food.

“Thought I forgot about you, Smitty?” Alfred laughed. The Jersey Devil, Smithy Leeds as Alfred called him, cawed and curled up next to Alfred, the only other legend that would stop and say hello, and growled like a content, tired dog. Arthur had his fairies and unicorns, Lukas had his trolls, but Alfred–America had his own devil, one that wasn’t evil but a force of nature.

Yes I have a wanted poster on my door Here’s a visual since I can’t draw!