Doors
A speedwrite I just did last night. This took half an hour only to write from start to finish, and is kind of an example of a new type of commission I am taking. If you want one, go here: http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/4749902/ to ask for one.
Story is pretty much just a fat roo admiring how fat he has become, and relishing in each pound which keeps him trapped in his room and off his feet. Some simple fap material for most, just some description practice for me... Enjoy!
Luke wasn't going to fit. He had been looking at the door exiting his bedroom for almost five minutes, just staring at it. He would occasionally reach down for his wide hips as best he could, but the rolls of fat along his arms would stop him. He could barely even touch his lovehandles with so much lard impeding his movement, a fact which made him both giddy and remorseful. A small part of him regretted the overeating, the overindulgence, and the sheer amount of calories which had put him in his current predicament. A vastly larger part of him however loved that development, the fat which encased his frame for feet in every single direction feeling like a prize at the end of a long journey. Sure, it had taken a long time to get and cost him nearly all of his savings, but it was all worth it in his mind, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Not a single thing.
He would trade a few of his pounds for more food though, and as he looked at the door which he had to escape in order to get more food, he saw that would not be possible. His feeder wasn't going to be around for nearly a whole hour more, and the absolutely insatiable roo didn't think he could hold out for that long without eating. He needed more, whether he wanted it or not, and had willed himself from his bed in order to get it. He hadn't moved in nearly three months, and as he stood in front of the doorway panting softly from the effort which was needed in order to move his gravid mass, he could feel why. Standing at all was hard with one's belly nearly dangling to their ankles, with love handles which sagged over a foot from where they started, and with legs that could barely bend at all thanks to having to compress so much fat. The roo was doing it sheerly for his love of food, and would push himself hard to show that love, and to satiate it as well. He was going to that kitchen, and no doorway would stop him.
Luke slowly turned to his left, his ponderous mass threatening to pull him to the ground with every tiny shuffle of his vastly overburdened feet. The rug below his taxed toes rubbed them roughly, as he could barely lift his feet from the carpet simply thanks to the weight of his legs. There was a rather large amount of pain in his heels, as they were being asked to support several hundred more pounds of roo than they ever had been before, but he ignored the discomfort as best he could and just finished his rotation. He stopped once he faced the large mirror which he would look at from time to time in order just to see himself. He hadn't been able to see the mirror for some time though, as seeing over his own horizon in the bed, even when propped up by a myriad of pillows, was an almost impossible task. His own reflection looked back, and it was then that the roo got to see how truly fat he had become. His rolls had rolls, folds were the size of the average arm on some furs, and the fact that he was standing at all was even more impressive now that Luke got to see himself.
The roo was immense.
He dwarfed everything in the room, and that included the king-sized bed he had called home for nearly six months. Starting at his head, he had cheeks that could better be described as bowling balls. They impeded his green-eyed vision greatly, and sagged down onto the first of three collars of fat that rested on his fat-swaddled shoulders. He couldn't see anything below his cheeks on himself, but the mirror aided that, and Luke drank it in hungrily as he continued scanning his frame. Countless chins made his head look like it sat in a small pond of blubber, rippling and hanging down low below the faintest hint of a jawline on his long muzzle. Below those sat what was once his neck, which was now just three shelves of lard that the roo could barely move. Indeed, even trying to turn his head was cause for concern, as he could feel the blubber pushing on his airway from the movement. Luke didn't move then, and instead kept looking at his frame. His moobs were massive, the size of a chubby fur's belly, and he had two of them. They both rested heavily on his stomach, a mass which he would need time to examine, and his arms pushed they together somewhat to give them the look of truly titanic cleavage. Those arms were constructed of orbs, each held together with a doughy ball of fat that seemed to be little more than a smaller orb. His biceps could be measured in feet, and drastically slowed any motion the roo made with those bulbous appendages. His paws were almost useless, covered almost halfway by the sagging flab of his forearm and stuck with three fingers so large that they could barely be moved, let alone grasp anything.
Moving further down, his stomach came next. It was a collection of rolls, folds, crevices, and valleys which looked to be more at home on a blob rather than a roo looking at himself in the mirror. Luke couldn't fathom how such a thing had become strapped to him, as it looked almost out of place on his form it was so stupendously large. It sagged to just above his feet at its lowest, and stuck out so far that even reaching a third of the way to its front was a task the roo couldn't hope to accomplish. It covered most of his thighs, made his lovehandles sag nearly halfway to his knees, and pushed his bellybutton down to almost his shins. He could feel every ripple, every shake, and every pulse the hungry swell of blubber made as it dangled precariously off his torso, constantly attempting to pull him down. Thankfully, he was counterbalanced by an ass he couldn't see, but he knew made him over a foot taller when he sat on it. It still didn't hold a candle to his stomach though, and he rubbed the sides of it faintly in admiration as he just looked on and continued to admire himself in the mirror. Nothing would ever come close to giving him as much satisfaction or joy as that stomach which he was somewhat worshipping, but it could certainly try.
He looked at his hips and feet as he continued to rub at his stomach, eyeing the protruding parts of his legs as that was all that he could see of the limbs which held him, barely, off the ground. His hips were nearly a foot wider than the gargantuan stomach was on either side, sagging with their own rolls and just barely supporting the lovehandles above them. Their girth, far below his stomach, made them touch all the way down past his knees and roll over the joint with a several-inch thick piece of fat. He also enjoyed how they would constantly give him attention, as reaching below his stomach to pleasure himself had ended nearly six hundred pounds ago. Rubbing himself with fat or the rare times his feeder was feeling strong were all he had left, and looking at himself made him crave that bliss. This feeling, combined with the strain he relished just from feeling how impossibly fat he was, made him rumble slightly with enjoyment as he gave them the faintest of shakes. This movement sent waves of blubber all along his oceanic surface, from the ankles which rested on the ground due to being so bloated with lard to the chins which adorned his protruding muzzle. It was like watching a living pudding give itself a shake, and Luke couldn't have been more aroused, and pleased, with himself for that image. He was the epitome of excess, the king of consumption, the gluttonous god which his feeder worshipped every time he had the opportunity.
Luke took a moment to compose himself as he felt a shiver of pleasure run from the tips of his swollen toes to his pointed, sagging ears. He could feel the ego, and pleasure of having one, welling up from deep inside him, and that was making him that much more aroused at time passed. He was still starving, and food wouldn't wait, but perhaps walking a bit more precariously to tease himself along the way would have to do. Luke's stomach was less concerned with all of that though, as it gave a demanding growl and forced the roo out of revelry and back out into reality. It's hunger was still there, very aggressive and driving the roo to start shuffling sideways towards the door.
He was unable to look at the opening, thanks to being unable to turn his head, but as he got closer he could feel both his ass and his stomach rubbing at the opening. A small part of him knew that he wasn't going to fit even before he pushed more against the doorjam, but the feeling of being too fat to even leave him room without aid made him even more aroused. He needed more of that, and so he pushed more against the door in hopes of hearing it splinter, creak, or even collapse altogether. He didn't even have to push hard; it gave under his titanic girth with just a simple stumble of his large feet. The crunching of wood, the splintering hitting his ears... It was just enough for his senses to pull in. Taking one last look into the mirror at himself over his sagging, swollen cheeks, Luke smiled. His jowls bunched up as he did, and then sagged again as his slitted eyes shut and he let loose a deep moan. He came everywhere under his gut, and gave up at the same time. Movement was proving to be too much of a task for the roo, and he would just wait out his hunger in the broken frame of his bedroom.
His feeder would be back soon enough.