Content Notification: Kink (fat, weight gain, feederism, loss of mobility, loving teasing, exertion, sweat, talk of impregnation), talk of sex and genitals, dairy

With a heavy pant and grunt, the fat foxtaur struggles to lift themself off the wobbling mountain their lower belly has become. Sweat drips from their damp fur, the action of standing growing harder and harder for them by the day. As they finally make it to their paws, they hold their stance firm, continuing to catch their breath a little as the swaying of their lower belly threatens to throw them off balance. They take waddling one step at a time, making their way towards the kitchen.

Against their better judgment, they plop their body down to the floor of the kitchen, knowing they’d have to go through the ordeal of standing up once again, but not wanting to hold weight on their paws for even a second longer. They open the fridge they’re seated in front of and pull out one of many two-liters of soda, twist the cap off, and just start chugging the cold, sugary liquid. If their spouse were home to see this, they’d be groping their fat and cooing them on; even the thought of that was enough to make their cock throb. Even though it was no longer able to harden due to their lower belly perpetually facing it the wrong way, it felt so good. They kept the soda coming, dropping the empty bottles to the floor until their thirst become hunger. They pulled a box of pizza from the fridge, their spouse having kept it filled to the brim with fast and snack food, and began forcing the greasy, cheesy, bread into their muzzle without a second thought. He would’ve called them “lardgut” for this, and on cue with that thought, they begin trying to hump their own lower belly. As futile as this was, their balls begged for release, craving to fill a womb. Of course, at their weight, their cock and any womb were about half a ton of fat away from each other. They’re too fat to even mount someone else anymore. Nevertheless, as they continued forcing pizza into their stomachs, their mind raced with the need to father litters; there were no other thoughts besides food and babymaking, as they just jostled their flaccid cock against their rear gut fat. Their rest of their body protested for every moment of this exertion, but the flood of libido kept the futile urge going until they were too exhausted to do more than wheeze, still laying on the kitchen floor.

The fridge was nearly empty.

Pre-cum leaked down their lower belly and half-dried into their sweaty fur.

A deep voice coos, “You’re so beautiful, lardgut. It’s too bad you never planned on having a litter earlier on, because it looks like that time has passed and sure as hell isn’t coming back. What’s done is done.”

Red eyes piece through the darkness of the kitchen. A brown and cream patterned demon dog sits on a chair across the room, pointing a camera at the heaving pile of fat on the floor.

“Love you, lardgut,” he continues. “I’m ordering you Taco Bell for dinner. Maybe that’ll take your mind off dumping batter.” The foxtaur smiles, burning red in both love and embarrassment, as their spouse comes over to fill his paws with their fat, sinking into their massive form. He whispers into their ear, “I can see if fucking your ass still makes you cum too.” They feel their limp cock throb once again, replying through heavy breaths, “Can you make it sound like I’m getting you pregnant?” The demon nods, grinning at his prize, “Yeah, beautiful. I’m sure you can get me pregnant this time.” He feels his cock harden against their fat, continuing, “That hard cock of yours is gonna be right up against the entrance of my womb. I promise. We’re gonna have so many litters together.”

As he continued to tease and humor them, the perfect title for the video came to mind: Futility.

– Foxtaur (they/she) 💙 & Demon Dog (any pronouns) 🤍 (https://beanbagbelly.cafe/)