that scale length

An Embarrassing Trip

                      An embarassing trip to the doctor                                                                                                                                                                                


  The nurse glances down at the clipboard, then at you, then back at the clipboard and smirks.

“Wow, so yeah, we definitely need to do a weigh in, you CERTAINLY aren’t 158 anymore.”  

Your face gets hot. In your rush to make the appointment  you grabbed a too-small shirt and now suffer the stares of waiting patients. Your muffin top balloons over the top of your tight pants. You squeeze your wide bottom into the chair and feel the wooden arm rests  press your fat love handles. You must look a sight with your soft hog belly filling your lap, laced beautifully  with light stretch marks, and your deep, obvious belly button. An older woman sitting next to you pats your plump forearm,

“It’s good to see you’re doing something about it, dearie, it doesn’t look like those pants could hold you in much longer.”

You flush red, she continues, “I just don’t know about your generation, you’re  all getting so FAT. Believe me, I know, I’ve got a big fat pig for a granddaughter and she just won’t lose weight no matter how I remind her boys don’t like fatties. Now mind you, she’s not as big as you, thank god, but she will be if−”

The nurse interrupts and calls your name. You wriggle your fat-packed hips out of the chair and make your way across the silent waiting room. Your blubbery thighs rub loudly. She leads you  down a long hallway.

“Ok, miss, here you are, we’ve got you scheduled for a weigh in, and an appointment with the dietician. Do yourself a favor and listen to her before Barnum and Bailey put you on speed dial,” She pokes your soft, dimpled tummy and laughs.

The room is cool and white, an examination table sits in the center. There is a treadmill, a scale and a full length mirror. Good god, you think, getting even more aroused. A cute, energetic nurse comes in moments later and picks up your chart.

“Hi, I’m Clara, I’m going to take your weight and pulse, the doctor will be in shortly. Please strip down to your underwear and bra.”  

You struggle out of your tight jeans, face reddening.  You begin to sweat lightly. Your love handles and belly wobble  and bounce and jiggle embarassingly as you tug your meaty hips free. The nurse smiles as you struggle and puff and puff.  She checks your chart again and raises her eyebrows.

“Oh dear, no wonder those pants are so tight,” she moves closer as you stand in your tight panties and bra, your uncooperative jeans stuck halfway down your hips, your overfed gut bulging and jutting well past your bloated tits. Your excess fat squeezes out around your too-small bra straps. She presses her palm into your soft piggy pot and gives it a hard jiggle. Your hips and back fat  wiggle wildly. Your nipples stiffen. Your thighs begin to get hot.

“Look at all this blubber, you naughty little piggy,” she laughs loud, “Look at how you jiggle!”  You feel your chest and throat constrict, your double chin wobbles slightly.  She slides her thumb deep into your belly button and clutchs your soft  underbelly with her fingers. She lifts, tugs, bounces your fat-bloated pot. She   slaps it and watches it wobble.  "Look at all this pork ,you overstuffed hog, you’ve been a VERY greedy piggy since we last saw you, haven’t you?“

You feel yourself about to come.

” Yes.“

She giggles.

"I bet it feels good to admit that, fatty.  Now lets get that wideload of yours  on the scale.”

You waddle onto the scale, your distended gut leading the way. She  takes your weight and notes it on the chart then  directs you to sit on the examination table. The door opens and a young man pokes his head in, “ Hi Clara, sorry to interrupt, but the doc is delayed, I’m going to send Denise in when she finishes up next door. Should be in a minute or two.”

She turns to you as the man leaves, “Denise is the dietician, you’ll like her.”         


  A few minutes later the door opens. As Clara leaves,  a fit, lovely woman with a pile of black hair  enters. She smiles and extends her hand, “Hi, I’m Denise.” Her hand is warm and dry and soothing.

“Let’s have a look at your chart…Oh my,my, my,  it looks like you’ve gained quite a bit of weight this year…hmmm… well, no matter, it  happens sometimes. Please stand and turn around, we’re going to measure your body fat.” You heft yourself off the table and turn your back to her. Papers ruffle, metal scrapes. She grabs a generous roll of fat under you armpit and tugs firmly, your nipples pucker, your clit hardens. The cold, steel calipers pinch  and release. You hear the pen scratch across your chart. “Hmm that was a thick one,” Denise says, “I bet it represents quite a few midnight snacks, eh fat girl?” She laughs. Your breath catches in your throat, goosebumps run up your inner thighs and arms.  You feel so exposed. She grabs a huge handful of love-handle meat  and leans near your  ear, “I don’t know if the calipers can measure this one, you greedy blimp.” She lifts and squeezes and  tugs and shakes  your  blubber-packed flank.  She rolls the fat in her hand, then wobbles it. The caliper spring creaks as Denise tries to open it wide enough. A sharp pain  shoots up your side as she forces your bulging fat into the calipers.

“Ouch,” you say.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen such fat love handles, I guess I’ll just write ‘huge, fat PIG’ in the space they have  here for the measurement.” She laughs.

You begin to pant. She comes close again and grabs both bloated handles. The calipers clatter to the floor.  She begins to knead and mush the soft fat. She slides her hands around to the front of your belly and begins grabbing handful after handful. She slides a finger in your deep navel and lifts and teases your fat. Her manicured hand  slides down the front of your panties, she pinches your fattened pubic mound. She squeezes the fattened area around your clit and starts to get you off with the extra pudge. You moan deeply.  She whispers in your ear, “ Reach under my skirt, you fat f*cking HOG, I’ve got a beautiful, hard cock strapped on that’s perfect for a soft, lazy tub like you.”  

You reach under her skirt and grab the hard cock. You clit tightens almost painfully, swelling, swelling.

“Stroke it,” she says, “stroke it, lard ass, nice and slow,” she slaps the side of your belly. You wince, and grunt at the delicious heavy joggle of your fat.

Your panties are soaked, you rub the hard cock, Denise moans, you oink. She grabs your blubbery inner thighs and pinches and drags her nails lightly. You keep your rhythm. Stroke, stroke, stroke.   She leans over, panting,  to an intercom and depresses the 'talk’ lever. “Gretchen darling, would you run next door and grab two dozen   jelly-filled and a gallon of heavy cream.” The intercom buzzes back garbled static. Denise smiles, “She’ll be here in about five minutes. Get on your knees, you overfed porker, and show me how good you are with those plump piggy lips.”  

You kneel down, flushed and puffing with excitement.  She pulls up her leather skirt  and shoves the cock in your mouth. She tugs lightly at one swollen nipple as you begin to suck and oink greedily. “That’s it you big overfed fat hog, suck it. Suck it and oink  like a good fat piggy,” you suck nosily, slurping and oinking and burying the cock in your mouth.

She leans sideways while you suck and grabs a huge handful of your belly fat and lifts and shakes it,  "We’re going to test this gut for capacity when Gretchen gets here to see just how much this overfilled bag of pig fat can hold.“ Her teasing makes you greedier. You slurp loudly, your clit tingles, hard and hot,the quick bobbing of your head causes your back fat and upper arms to quiver noticeably. Denise gasps loudly and starts to come. You come moments later.

You struggle to your feet, hot and sweating. The examination room door opens and a wide, fat blonde woman waddles in . Her belly is massive, you can see the deep outline of her belly button through straining pants as her belly fat shifts around under the tight fabric. She is carrying two large pink cake boxes and a tankard of heavy cream. You can hear the cold cream slosh and see grease soaking through the boxes.  Denise jerks you to your feet and bends you over the examination table. Gretchen smiles at you and sets the boxes near your face, "Oh she looks like a greedy one,” she says to Denise, “ I should have got three boxes of jelly-filled.”

Denise laughs, “Feel that huge gut she’s put on, Gretch.” Gretchen reaches forward and hefts your soft, hanging belly.

“Wow,” she says lightly squeezing and tugging,  " she really stores in around the hips and waist, don’t she.“

Denises laughs again. Gretchen pops the top of the first box and picks up a glazed donut. Dark jelly oozes and drips onto the table. She holds the donut just out of reach and makes you smell it.

Denise pulls up her skirt and yanks down your panties. Your swollen lips stretch apart as she pushes inside you.

"Beg for the donut, you greedy fat ass,” Gretchen says.

“Mmph, please, feed me,  feed me like a fat f*cking pig.  I’m such a fatty…shove it in my piggy snout.”  Gretchen presses the donut into your mouth, jelly squirts into the back of your throat, glazed sugar fills one nostril and smears your cheek. Denise clutches your wide hips in bulging handfuls and thrusts as deep as your fattened ass will allow. You moan through mouthfuls and mouthfuls, through packed cheeks and a craning neck. Gretchen stuffs you like a Christmas goose. Jelly squirts onto the table, your throat packs with more sugar and dough. Your eyes rolls back in your head, your heart pounds. Denise moans as she f*cks you 

“Eat you ***ing blubber pig,  that’s it you overfed ***ing  HOG, fill that fat gut.”

Your head swims; your heavy swelling  gut slaps against your thighs, Gretchen forces you to chug heavy sweet cream, you gut swells, then sags, under the weight of your feeding. She continues to feed you, Denise reaches around your filling bulk and plays with your clits as she fingers you. You feel your ribcage and belly stretch to accommodate your stuffing. You inch closer to orgasm, so  full, oh god, so  stuffed. Gretchen shoves more in.

“That’s it wideload, pack that gut, you think you’re the first one, how do you think I got this?” she yanks down her tight pants and plops her massive white belly on the table, she shoves a donut into her navel then pushes your face in after it.

“That’s it hog,” Denise yells, “eat right out of her fat belly, we’re going to grow you one like that you lazy porker.” You start to come: the sweet jelly, the warm softness of Gretchen’s belly, your secret desire to be fattened like an absolute PIG, orgasms explode through you: you come, Denise comes, Gretchen comes.

Denise and Gretchen help you back into your tight clothes, it’s hard not to giggle. They only get the lowest button  of your jeans fastened;  you’re just too bloated. They laugh. They help you into your shirt  which won’t stay down past your ribs. Denise tugs it down, you breathe, it rides back up. More laughter. You waddle into the hall feeling like a parade float,too satisfied to care the state they’ve left you in. Your top rides up showing your alarmingly bloated  belly which stretches out before you round and tight; your pants are unbuttoned down to the last button and still the thick fat of your waist squeezes well over the belt line. You lean slightly back as you pilot your tubby piggy pot towards the exit. You’re red-faced and sweating, your eyes glassy from orgasms and sugar and cream.  Your belly sloshes painfully from side to side.

The receptionist and the people in the waiting room gasp collectively as you puff, puffing just before you waddle your soft, overfed bulk into view.  You’ve never felt so full (or so satisfied.) You cradle your belly with one hand, balance yourself against a wall with the other, and, with shallow breaths,  move slowly towards the door. You turn to the receptionist intending to say 'I’ll call to schedule my next appointment,’ but what comes out is “BUUURRRRRAAAWWWPPPP!!!!”  The receptionist turns pale,  waiting patients inhale sharply, you open the exit door and ease slowly into the warm sunshine.  

Ah, the detailed info you can find about extinct giraffids… “Palaeotragus were medium sized giraffids“ and “Palaeotragus germiani was of large size”…

What does it even mean?!? What does a “medium sized giraffid” mean? Not to mention a large medium sized giraffid.

This is going to drive me crazy. I mean, crazier.

Pepero Kiss [m]

smut // everyone knows the peppero game right? too bad your boyfriend acts as though he doesn’t know how to.

The aluminium wrapper crinkled in between your fingers as you took the stick of pepero out.

“You bite, then I bite. Got it?” You said. “But not all of it, we need to leave the smallest piece we can get. Then we compare.”

“I know how to play it, but why do you want us to do this?” His eyes blinked open as rose up from the bed and rested himself on his elbows. “I thought we were watching tv?”

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Sometimes the best way to appreciate a flow is standing still. In “Hawaii - The Pace of Formation” filmmakers explore how the Big Island is constantly changing, from fresh lava flows to towering waterfalls. Much of the footage presented is timelapse, which gives viewers a different perspective on familiar subjects; it highlights the similarities between clouds and the ocean, and it reminds us that a lava flow and the syrup flowing down a stack of pancakes have a lot in common. To me, this is one of the most beautiful parts of fluid dynamics: physics of flows on different length-scales and time-scales – even in different fluids – are still very much the same. (Video credit: A. Mendez et al.)


Proof of Concept: A perfect solution for the Fighting Game Community to seamlessly incorporate face cams into the regular user interface of most fighting games. Footage of their faces will simply be incorporated directly into the health bar, and auto-adjusted directly (with content-aware scaling) to the vertical length of the health bar. This will meet the needs of both people who want the pure game footage unadulterated by face cams and those who want to see the players at work without compromising the aspect ratio of the game. There are no problems with this solution, and I expect it to be integrated into livestreams of Street Fighter tournaments immediately.

Dive In

Pairing: Merman!Dean x Reader

Summary: The reader finds out why she’s always been so drawn to the ocean.

Warnings: None. (There’s a rarity)

Word Count: 1,403

A/N: Well here’s part two as promised. So I decided to go back and forth between the reader’s and Dean’s POV. This is the first time I’ve ever really written something from his POV. Also I hope it’s not to confusing with the whole back and forth thing. Anyways I hope you guys like it and feedback is always welcome. 

Catch up here: Part 1

Originally posted by enchantinworld

Fish swam along the bottom nibbling on corals and rocks, the seaweed gently swayed with the current and yet Dean noticed none of this as he swam by. His thoughts were drawn to the woman he had met on the beach. The moment he had spotted her from the water he had been drawn to her. This wasn’t anything new, humans often times attracted the attention of the merkind. But the fact he had let her see him in his true form showed how much she had compromised his judgment. Not only had he put his entire race at risk but he had broken his kinds key law. And yet all of this seemed insignificant to him. Without even realizing he had done it, he spoke to her in a way that only true mates could. But that shouldn’t be possible, she was obviously human therefore couldn’t possibly be his mate. As Dean sped along the ocean bottom these thoughts plagued his mind. He needed answers and he needed them now. 

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Does anyone have any refs or canon facts about Feyre’s beast/ouroboros form? or any ideas at all?

I’m trying to get a commission of her beast form and don’t have much to give the artist aside from the following

- large, shining blue-grey eyes

- big clawed paws with blend of black and gold 

- ridge of dark spines down back

- medium/long length scaled tail

anyone have any ideas/anything else that could help? like more feline or canine or anything?  

Fantasy Part II

This is for Zutara Smut Week, “Virginity.” Not so much because it kinda mentions it in the story, but more so because I just lost mine, in the literary sense. This is probably the most explicit thing I’ve ever written. It’s a little suggestive after the cutline, but the real deal is toward the end. If it’s no good, then just remember, it’s my first time! And that’s reality, folks!

There were no boys close to her age in her tribe growing up except for her brother, so Katara didn’t think about dating or marriage that much. It was hard to imagine the future with the war going on, but Katara knew that if she were to find a husband someday, he’d have to come from somewhere else. The Northern Water Tribe, most likely, since she’d probably have to go there anyway to learn waterbending. Gran Gran hinted that their sister tribe may not see fit to train her, though, while stating outright that they would most certainly find her a husband.

That wasn’t a bad thing… or was it?

Gran Gran seemed to think so. With limited knowledge and zero experience, Katara had no idea what to think. Sokka was annoying and stinky and sexist. She could never marry anyone like that. Shouldn’t she find another waterbender—to increase the likelihood of passing on the genes to their children? But Katara didn’t even know all the specifics on how babies were made, not really.

It was her friend, Nutha, who let her in on some fascinating, yet somewhat disturbing details. Katara wouldn’t realize until much later just exactly how Nutha knew so much.

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Intergalactic gas and ripples in the cosmic web

The most barren regions known are the far-flung corners of intergalactic space. In these vast expanses between the galaxies there is just one solitary atom per cubic meter – a diffuse haze of hydrogen gas left over from the Big Bang. On the largest scales, this material is arranged in a vast network of filamentary structures known as the “cosmic web,” its tangled strands spanning billions of light years and accounting for the majority of atoms in the universe.

Now, a team of astronomers, including UC Santa Barbara physicist Joseph Hennawi, have made the first measurements of small-scale ripples in this primeval hydrogen gas using rare double quasars. Although the regions of cosmic web they studied lie nearly 11 billion light years away, they were able to measure variations in its structure on scales 100,000 times smaller, comparable to the size of a single galaxy. The results appear in the journal Science.

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Imagine Legolas and Bard competing for your love

For middleearth2asgard :)


There was a knock at the door of your new house in Dale. You sighed and got up from your place next to the fire to cross the floor. You expected it to be your best friend Bard stopping by for a chat, as he often did, but you got rather a surprise when you opened the door to see Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, there.

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Did I never post this? It looks like I never posted this.

These are the Tiny sized scales from The Ring Lord. I got a pack or two to experiment with. And man they’re pretty, but man they’re not for me. They take forever. Where the typical bracelets I make take about 2 dozen scales, the same length of tiny scales takes about a hundred scales. And the tiny rings were super tedious to work with.

Basically, for the amount of time it takes to make something with these tiny scales, I don’t think I can sell them at a price that I think someone would pay. Though if I ever end up starting to work with precious metals, I’d use these.

These ones are “frost” colored anodized aluminum. The size comparison is green anodized titanium.

anonymous asked:

i'm in love with the latest chapter of coral and bone!! do you have references for all the mermaid tails?

I do have references! I’m going to put them under the cut in case anyone does not want spoilers for the mermaids of Coral and Bone. These tails are made by a company called Finfolk Productions, where you can actually buy these tails and wear them - it’s so cool! 

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Fender Jaguar JG-66 CAR

CIJ reissue of a Fender Jaguar in Candy Apple Red with matching painted headstock. Bought on the cheap to flip. Jaguars are such beautiful guitars, but this is sadly the only one I’ve owned. Since I’ve learned quite a bit about their natural attributes as a result of their scale length, bridge assembly, and pickups,, I’m afraid they’re just not the guitar for me.

alcoholicrevo  asked:

THIS IS AWESOME, ILYSM, THANK YOU FOR RUNNING THIS. Can I ask for the schedule? When do sign-up ends, check-ins, that kind of stuff.


We are still working on the schedule breakout! I will post and let you know as soon as it’s ready! Right now we just really wanted to focus on getting the sign-ups going so that people could start getting their ideas primed and ready! So far this is all we have

Author Sign Up Close Date: June 16 (We will likely extend for Artists)

Shit Bang Posting Date: August 31st

This Year, since it will likely be on a smaller scale and lesser length stories, we are keeping the length pretty tight. We want this to have a bigger impact quickly on all the negativity that’s been going on <3 So as soon as authors sign up they should start writing!

<3 Sinpai

Wander Over Yonder Real-World Heights

Brought to you by a cartoon nerd who spent the night looking up obscure banjo facts and playing with GIMP to figure out the sizes of characters from a kid’s cartoon instead of studying. 

Wander: ~37in / 3′ 1″ / 94cm

Sylvia: ~63in / 5′ 3″ / 160cm

Peepers: ~26in / 2′ 2″ / 66cm

Lord Hater: ~74in / 6′ 2″ / 188cm

Watchdog: ~30in / 2′ 6″ / 76cm

Average Real Human: ~66in / 5′ 6″ / 168cm

This all started because I was wondering what kind of banjo Wander owned. (This seems irrelevant but hold on a minute.)

Banjos are generally categorized into 5-strings and 4-strings. Wander’s is obviously a 4-string because it… has 4 strings… and lacks this knobbly bit that holds the 5th string.

Banjos are also categorized by how long their scale is (This is found by measuring the distance between the bridge and the farther end of the fretboard). Here’s a selection of 4-string banjos and their scale lengths in comparison to Wander’s banjo:

Wander’s banjo’s proportions seem to fit best with the plectrum banjo, so I’m sticking with that.

This realization allowed me to measure the characters because a plectrum banjo’s scale needs to be roughly 26 inches. Instruments can’t be shrunk or grown willy-nilly; their sizes have a big influence on the way they sound. It’s like the difference between a cello and a violin.

So, the scale becomes a 26 inch ruler!

I think my measurements have a wiggle room of 4 inches. Anything below or above that would make Wander’s instrument more of a ukulele or bass than a regular ol’ banjo!

Or maybe it doesn’t matter because a cartoon banjo can sound like anything at any size because it’s a cartoon. *shrugs* But, this still makes too much sense for me to ignore.

Bedtime Stories

Originally posted by kitty-kat-14-fangirl

Characters: Dean x Reader, OFC:Mary (daughter), John, a dragon

Word Count: 2247

Request:  I was wondering if you could do a one shot where Dean is a prince and is expected to marry a girly princess but marries a princess who can fight just as good as him and is sarcastic.

Summary:  Dean tells his daughter a bedtime story. 

A/N:  Hope you like it @panther-and-peacock.  I know it’s a little different than what you requested.  If you don’t like it, I can take another go.  I’ll probably write a more serious period piece at some point for you.  But after finishing AFD I needed something a little lighter.  In the mean time I’d recommend The Colors of the Plaid.  It’s smutty, but so amazing and a period piece. 

“Tell me it again!”  Mary shouted as Dean tucked her into bed.  

“I’ve told you it a hundred times.  Don’t you want to hear a different one?”  Dean begged his daughter, reaching for a book – any book - from her bookshelf.  

“Is it because it’s a girl story?  Uncle Sam said you wish I was a boy.”  Dean turned to look at Mary, her lower lip thrust out and trembling. He knew when she was faking but didn’t have the heart to deny her  

“Uncle Sam wishes he was a boy,” Dean muttered under his breath, mentally noting having to kick his little brother’s ass.  “Okay, fine.  Once upon a time-,” he started.

“That’s a bad way to start, Daddy.”  Mary interrupted with the seriousness and scrutiny of a literary critic.

“Would you just let me tell it,” Dean said with patience wearing thin. “Once upon a time there was a prince named-,”

“Dean!”  Mary interrupted again, giggling at her father’s scowls.  “Prince Dean!” 

“-a prince named Dean, of the kingdom of Winchester.”  Mary continued giggling, but allowed him to continue.

Prince Dean was as fair as a spring day and as fierce as the winter’s frozen bite.  More acquainted with than battle than gallantry, he made a valiant knight but was reluctant to take up his father’s mantle as ruler.  He found his greatest pleasure keeping his father’s kingdom safe and training his younger brother, Prince Samuel, in the ways of the knight.  

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Despite the circumstances, Felix was fairly good at adjusting to new situations – especially ones that related to school. He was a ‘jock’ type, after all. If he just stopped having panic attacks over every loud noise and jumping when people came towards him too fast, he’d be at the top of the food chain quick as a wink. As it was, he just spent his time exercising to try to get his mind off of things. At the moment, he was headed back to his dorm after going for a swim, only hesitating when it came to the door and saw the snow storm blowing outside. Thinking better of going out in it, he made his way back to the gym, giving a smile to the person he saw there. “It’s a real white out blizzard out there. Mind if I keep you company?”