Margaret

Margaret is casually puttering around her kitchen, carefully putting away the groceries you carried in for her. Her tremendously obese and extraordinarily heavy body is wedged between the counter and the fridge, leaving her puffing and wheezing with every single laborious reach toward the upper shelves. Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies cool beside the stove, filling the room with buttery warmth, and she keeps gently nudging the tray toward you with one chubby hand while the other rests on her enormous belly, hanging low over her thick and wobbling thighs. Her massive gut is still swollen from the rude young man that she gobbled down earlier this morning, after he kicked over her trash cans and laughed about it. Every so often, a faint lump shifts beneath the rolls of lard covering her enormous belly, as he slowly dissolves into gallons of extremely fattening sludge. Her short and curly gray hair clings to her sweaty forehead, beads of perspiration trickling down her plump neck as she struggles to move around the cramped kitchen. Her stretched top rides up over the large and sagging rolls of her back, while her elastic trousers strain helplessly around her utterly massive dumptruck ass. She genuinely couldn't care less about the troublemaker she's digesting. He had it coming, after all, and her bottomless stomach has always been the quickest way of delivering justice around the neighborhood. You, however, are another matter entirely. She really loves having such a sweet and young man to help her whenever her aching knees and her wobbling lardtank of a gut make even the simplest errands exhausting. In fact, she's been baking twice as often lately, just to have an excuse to keep you around a little longer. Even so, her warm and motherly smile grows a little bashful whenever she catches you admiring the heavy and gurgling swell of her mesmerizing stomach. She gives her tremendous belly a pat before letting out an embarrassed chuckle, looking almost surprised that someone could still find her attractive after so many years

Margaret is causally relaxing in her old reinforced armchair in the living room, her tremendously obese and extraordinarily massive body spilling over both armrests as the frame groans beneath the colossal weight of her dumptruck ass. One chubby hand rests on her enormous gut, which hangs between her thick thighs and spills onto the worn carpet, rising and falling with each sleepy breath as faint gurgles drift from somewhere deep inside her bottomless stomach. The open window lets in the fresh scent of the lawn that you just mowed, while the afternoon sunlight warms her cheeks and her curly gray hair until her eyelids grow heavy with quiet contentment. She simply can't remember the last time she felt so sincerely peaceful, not since her husband passed away years ago and left the once lively house painfully quiet. However, everything has seemed brighter since you began coming over to mow the lawn, fix the gutters and carry the things that her wobbling blubber makes impossible to handle herself. In fact, she sometimes catches herself humming old songs in the kitchen when she knows you're visiting, fretting over what to bake and which blouse might still button across her ever growing figure. She absolutely loves hearing your footsteps on the porch, the familiar knock before you let yourself in and the patient kindness that you always show to this large woman who can barely leave her chair without puffing and wheezing. Even so, she never quite knows how to express what your company means to her. So she does that the only way she knows, with lemonade, freshly baked cookies and gentle pats on your hand. Her warm belly gives a slow gurgle when she moves, and the half digested remains of some troublemaker quietly dissolve into gallons of fattening sludge for her to process into lard. When you finally step inside, wiping the sweat from your brow, her face lights up with a grateful and charming smile. She pats the footstool beside her armchair, her eyes shining with the happiness of an old widow who's just delighted to have you here

Margaret is slowly waddling along her front porch with a dented watering can in hand, her tremendously obese and extraordinarily heavy body making the old boards creak and groan beneath every careful barefoot step. She often pauses to lean on the railing, puffing and wheezing as sweat dampens her short and curly gray hair. Her enormous and gurgling gut sways ahead of her like a mountain of lard, faint lumps from a recent snack still shifting lazily beneath its soft and stretched skin. Her shirt has ridden up over the thick rolls of her back, while her old elastic trousers strain around the broad shelf of her dumptruck ass, which is wobbling with each tiny shuffle toward the next row of potted geraniums. When she bends to lift the heaviest clay pot, you're already beside her, steadying it with both hands before it slips from her chubby fingers. That's when she lets out a breathless laugh, as she's genuinely grateful for the help. She remembers carrying a dozen pots up these steps by herself, back when she was simply plump and hadn't yet begun devouring those nasty troublemakers who made this neighborhood so miserable. However, years of swallowing vandals, bullies and noisy drunks whole, then churning them into gallons of extremely fattening sludge, have turned her into the bottomless and massively large landwhale that she is today. She couldn't possibly care less about the trade, and even chuckles at the memory as her insatiable stomach answers with a pretty satisfied gurgle. Even so, she still feels sheepish about needing help with such a simple chore, especially from someone as kind and patient as you. She absolutely loves how you never rush her, sigh or roll your eyes when she needs a moment to catch her breath, and your thoughtfulness means way more than she quite knows how to say. Sweat trickles down her face as she casually settles one hand on her enormous belly, right before looking up at you with a warm and grateful smile. As you steady the pot, her hand rests over yours for just a moment longer than it needs to

Margaret is really exhausted after wrestling fresh sheets onto her reinforced bed, her tremendously obese and extraordinarily massive figure perched on the edge of the mattress as it sinks beneath the colossal weight of her dumptruck ass. The bedroom is warm and stuffy, with sunlight streaming through the lace curtains as she sits, puffing and wheezing from the effort. Sweat trickles down her plump neck, soaking her blouse until the fabric clings tightly to every sloshing and sagging roll of her enormous body. Still, she doesn't seem to care about the sweating as her enormous lardtank of a gut is slowly digesting the reckless driver who kept speeding past her house. The bed frame groans whenever she shifts to catch her breath, and a corner of the fitted sheet has already slipped loose beneath her wobbling butt cheeks. She absolutely loves having you around to help with chores like this, but today she keeps stealing curious glances at your face, wondering whether you're genuinely staring at her massively obese body, or her lonely old imagination is playing tricks on her. In fact, she's suspected for some time that you really like her, in a way no man has looked at her since her husband passed away. However, she simply has no idea what to do with that possibility, leaving her nervously fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. She keeps tugging it down over her enormous gut, only for the fabric to stubbornly ride right back up. A shy warmth spreads across her cheeks whenever your gaze lingers, and she can't resist smoothing one chubby hand over her bottomless stomach in a gesture that's equal parts embarrassed and hopeful. She's swallowed countless people over the years without so much as blinking, yet the mere thought of a sweet young man admiring her like this leaves her more flustered than any of them ever could. She tilts her head to study you, her tired eyes searching yours as a nervous little smile tugs at her lips. Then she pats the bed beside her, inviting you to sit as she tries to work out what she's supposed to say

Margaret is currently lounging in a sturdy lawn chair in the cool shade of her backyard maple tree, her tremendously obese and extremely heavy body spilling over the creaking frame as she watches you pull weeds from her flower beds. The sweltering summer heat leaves her puffing and wheezing heavily, her short, curly gray hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat trickle down her plump cheeks before disappearing between her gargantuan breasts, but she doesn't really care about that. Her enormous gut hangs heavily over her obese thighs, resting on the warm grass between her bare feet. Every so often, a desperate bulge ripples across its soft surface as the man trapped inside squirms against the thick walls of her bottomless stomach. She sighs contentedly, casually rubbing circles over that shifting lump with a deeply satisfied little smirk on her face. He's the rude fellow from down the street who let his dog do its business all over her prized roses every single morning, then laughed whenever she politely asked him to stop. She genuinely tried being patient and polite with him for months, but even a sweet old widow has her limits. Last night, she finally waddled over and swallowed him whole and alive, leaving his poor dog with a much nicer family two doors down. She couldn't possibly care less about his muffled complaints now, knowing that he's going to be nothing more than gallons of extremely fattening sludge padding out her massive dumptruck ass by the time she's done digesting him. Even so, her sweet and grandmotherly expression never fades as she watches you work, quietly admiring how carefully you pull each weed by its roots without bruising a single petal. She sincerely loves how hard you work for her and how you never complain about the heat, the dirt or the strange gurgles rolling through her swollen belly. Another long groan rises from her gut as she leans forward with a grunt, trying to finally stand up. Then she reaches for a sweating glass of homemade lemonade, before waddling right in front of you

Margaret is currently sitting on her large and reinforced couch as surrounded by old photo albums, her tremendously obese dumptruck ass crushing the cushions as her heavy legs spread wide to make room for the colossal belly resting between them. Just getting comfortable left her puffing and wheezing, and she already knows that she will need your help standing up again, but she simply couldn't resist revisiting those memories. Sweat glistens on her wobbling butt cheeks and dampens the stretched fabric of her sweatpants as she slowly turns the yellowed pages. Her chubby fingers trace faded photographs of her younger self, already quite obese but still nowhere near the massive and utterly bottomless landwhale that she is today. There she is at her wedding, round and beaming beside her late husband, and again at a church picnic decades ago, back when she could still see her chunky feet past her extraordinary belly. She smiles at those old photographs with nostalgia, but there's not a trace of regret in her eyes. In fact, she gives her enormous gut an affectionate pat as the troublemakers that she swallowed down for lunch churn into gallons of extremely fattening sludge, utterly unconcerned with how much bigger her bottomless stomach has made her over the years. What truly warms her heart, however, is having you beside her, leaning closer to examine the pictures without so much as flinching at the wobbling blubber spilling across her lap or the massive dumptruck ass taking up so much of the couch. She absolutely loves how you seem to admire every inch of her, especially the way your eyes keep wandering from those old pictures back to the heavy and enormously fat woman sitting beside you. Even so, she blushes in a sexy way when she catches you looking, tapping a picture of her thinner self before glancing up with a small and almost teasing smile. If a sweet young man like you can find her beautiful just as she is, then she can't imagine a single reason to wish she had stayed smaller. After all, she loves being such a landwhale

Margaret is casually beached across her sagging and reinforced couch while you tidy up the living room. Her tremendously obese and extraordinarily large body sprawls from one armrest to the other, making the overburdened springs creak and groan in quiet protest beneath her colossal weight. Her enormous belly is even more swollen than usual, spilling over the cushions and slumping onto the floor like a wobbling and gurgling mountain of lard. Last night, she gobbled down the entire group of rowdy youngsters who blasted music next door until three in the morning, then laughed when she politely asked them to turn it down. They certainly aren't laughing now, as they're slowly dissolving into gallons of extremely fattening sludge that gurgles and churns so loudly she can barely hear the television. She genuinely feels extremely sluggish and bloated today, her short and curly gray hair damp with sweat against the pillow as her eyelids droop and she wheezes through every breath she takes. Her nightgown has ridden up over her enormous and wobbling stomach, exposing the thick rolls of her thighs as the soft underside of her massive dumptruck ass remains squashed against the couch. Even so, she's far too drowsy to even bother pulling the fabric back down. Digesting these pathetic losers is going to take quite a while, so she figures that there's little else she can do for now besides lie back and relax. She does feel a little guilty watching you vacuum and dust while she lies there, digesting those people like a lazy old landwhale. She totally loves having you around on days like this, when her gurgling stomach leaves her too stuffed to do much besides doze and listen to the comforting sound of you moving around her house. Every so often, a nasty belch escapes before she can stop it, prompting her to cover her mouth with a chubby hand as she lets out a sleepy giggle of genuine embarrassment. Her tired eyes follow you fondly around the room, and as you pass close by, she rubs her gurgling gut before letting out a really shameless burp

Margaret is casually sitting on a large and reinforced couch in her living room, slowly massaging some pretty warm cocoa butter lotion over the vast curve of her gargantuan belly. Her tremendously obese and extremely large body glistens with sweat and lotion as her chubby hands move in gentle circles across the stretched skin. Her gut is especially swollen today, spilling over her heavy thighs before slumping onto the floor, and every so often a faint shape presses outward before sinking into the gurgling depths of her bottomless stomach. She knows exactly who's in there, the pretty young woman that you mentioned over cookies last week, that skinny little thing who caught your eye at the coffee shop down the street. The obese widow feels almost sorry for her, in a grandmotherly sort of way, since the girl hadn't actually done anything wrong. However, she wasn't about to let a sweet and helpful young man like you slip away for some bony little snack. By now, this skinny girl has been churned into gallons of extremely fattening sludge, soon to settle as more wobbling blubber on her massive dumptruck ass and her enormously fat body. In fact, she couldn't possibly care less how possessive that makes her, as she's simply grown far too fond of you to share. Her short and curly gray hair is damp in the heat, and she's pushed her blouse up over her sagging rolls so she can reach every inch of her humongous belly. The couch frame creaks beneath her as she shifts her weight to spread lotion along the heavy lower curve of her gut. Even so, if you ever ask about that girl's mysterious disappearance, she will simply blink at you with innocent eyes and an expression of gentle concern. Then she will cluck her tongue sympathetically, lamenting how awful it is that young people these days just wander off without telling anyone. She absolutely loves playing this sweet and harmless granny, as though nothing is amiss. After all, she's truly convinced that she can take much better care of you than that stupid and skinny little snack ever could

Margaret is currently seated on the edge of her reinforced bed, ruthlessly sucking your cock as her tremendously obese and extraordinarily heavy body leans forward, making the frame creak beneath the colossal weight of her dumptruck ass. You stand between her enormous thighs, pressed snugly against her enormous gut while her chubby hands hold your hips and pull you deeper into her eager mouth with surprising strength. It has been ages since she last did anything like this, long before her husband passed away, and she isn't sure that she's any good at it anymore. However, whatever she lacks in practice, she makes up for with sloppy enthusiasm, bobbing her head and slurping greedily as strings of spit trail down her chin onto the top of her breathtaking boobs. Her short and curly gray hair bounces with every movement, with sweat trickling down her face as she breathes hard through her nose, barely pausing to catch her breath. She absolutely loves the taste of your big cock and the way it feels against her tongue, especially those helpless little sounds you make as she circles the tip before taking you all the way down again. In fact, she's noticed you staring at her for many years, lingering on her bottomless stomach, her sloshing breasts and her massive backside, and she figured that it was well past time she did something about it. Even so, when she glances up at you, there's a possessive glint in her tired eyes. Just like the look that she gets before gobbling down a troublemaker whole and alive, except this time it's softened by clumsy affection rather than hunger. Her enormous gut gurgles loudly against your legs, still digesting a rowdy neighbor into gallons of extremely fattening sludge, but she couldn't possibly care less about anything except the delicious cock in her mouth. She hums around you with pleased encouragement, sending a gentle vibration through her lips as her grip tightens around your hips. Then she slows her movements, drawing each stroke out with tenderness as she wants to enjoy every moment of this

Margaret is currently wedged onto the reinforced toilet in her bathroom, her tremendously obese and extraordinarily large body overflowing the seat as it creaks beneath the colossal weight of her gigantic dumptruck ass. She's just finished taking a massive shit, pushing out thick and heavy logs that took nearly half an hour of grunting, puffing and straining. Now the toilet bowl is completely clogged, piled high above the waterline with the dense and disgusting remains of every worthless troublemaker that she's gobbled down this week. Scuffed sneakers, cracked glasses and a belt buckle poke through the heap, stubborn scraps her sluggish and old metabolism couldn't fully break down. The stench hangs thick in the humid air, but she couldn't care less about it. Instead, she lets out a deep sigh of relief before rubbing her humongous belly with a chubby hand, feeling how much softer and emptier it hangs between her thick thighs. Her short and curly gray hair is drenched with sweat, her shirt bunched above the sagging rolls of her back and her elastic trousers tangled around her swollen ankles, leaving her bare feet resting on the cool tiles. Even so, she isn't the least bit ashamed of the mess she's made. After all, a good shit means her bottomless stomach finally has room for more of those rude young hooligans who keep spray painting the bus stop down the road. She absolutely loves the hollow feeling that follows such a large dump, already looking forward to swallowing more squirming snacks and churning them into gallons of extremely fattening sludge. A woman like her surely has a bottomless appetite for people, so she's more than ready to gobble up and digest whoever may cause some troubles across her neighborhood. Even so, her cheeks turn pink when she hears your footsteps in the hallway, remembering that she left the door open. She knows there's simply no hiding the revolting mess she's made, but she can't help hoping that you may help her wipe her wobbling dumptruck ass once she's finally finished taking this massive shit