Ifatfurdude - Untitled - Tumblr Blog

Check out my latest video 🍺 Beer O’Clock 🍺

Patreon

Get more from Beergutbear on Patreon

creating Beer Chugging & Belly Rubbing

Babydoll

He thought it was what he wanted, he really did. Ever since Christian was little, he enjoyed playing with dolls. Not so much because he liked to do what girls do–well, he did–but more that he wanted to be the doll. They got to wear pretty dresses and have their long blonde hair put into bows, their cutesy shoes switched out, and they got to be pampered and adored by someone else.

Speaking of pampered, Christian seemed to always gravitate towards the dolls that needed diapers. The ones that would squirt fake wets and messes so he could change them. He remembered begging his Mother for those toys.

His Mother knew that Christian would most likely not grow up to be a very strong, masculine boy. She knew her son was not like the others, he’d taken far too much interest in all things feminine, but she also never saw anything wrong with that. She would oblige him if he asked her to paint his nails, or put make-up on him, or make his hair curly. She thought it would be a phase, something he’d grow out of when he got to high school.

But college came and went and Christian was still living in her basement. She could hear him at night, making loud, pathetic mewling sounds. Watching god knows what on the internet and doing god knows what to himself. She found countless diapers in the trashcan that Christian did a pisspoor job of hiding. When a bra or panty set went missing, she knew the first place to look was in Christian’s room tucked into the back of his closet. She never said anything, though. She let her boy partake in his little fantasies and work himself raw. She’d change his sheets that only had a hint of piss soaked into them, as if most of it ended up somewhere else and this was only what leaked out when a certain item had reached capacity.

Christian had spent most of his life jerking off to sissy and abdl and feminization porn. He’d watched countless hypnos that made his brain rot, he even put his own penis in a cage sometimes and learned to cum like a ‘gurl’. But all of that was only when he was in the throes of hornydom. He’d dream of being a pretty little doll for someone, to get put in diapers and dresses and makeup and be ‘forced’ to live life as a little sissy bimbo. This, obviously, didn’t do much for the ladies, so he never had a true girlfriend.

So one day, Christian decided after 5 days of depriving himself of orgasms, that he was finally going to come out to his Mom. He was going to tell her about how he’s a sissy, how he likes to wear diapers, and be treated like a baby. He was tired of keeping all of this shoved down and tucked away for so long.

It felt so freeing to finally tell her. To let her know everything about what her son was secretly doing. But, apparently, it wasn’t much of a surprise at all. She hardly blinked an eye, and instead just smiled like a mother patiently waiting for her child to correctly solve what 6+8 is, and congratulating him for finally getting it.

“So you want me to treat you like a little sissy baby?” she asked, clarifying.

“Well, no…” he said. Or, at least, that’s what he wanted to say. Instead, he was awestruck by the idea, by the possibilities. He could finally get what he wanted! He could have someone treat him like the sissy baby gurl he’d always wanted to be! “Yes!” He said for real, “Very much yes!!”

His mother only laughed. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, when will it stop? How long do you want to do this?”

“Forever.” He said, a single word sealing his fate. If he knew what he knew now, he would have never uttered that word.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Okay…maybe he shouldn’t have said that one either.

So started Christian’s journey into sissy depravity. His mother pulled out all the stops, showing no mercy. Like a stern parent raising her child once more, she kept him in line using discipline, time outs, and a new one most mothers can’t use: chastity denial.

She watched as her son slowly transformed into a babbling, drooly mess. She wasn’t sure if it was the hypnosis she’d been making him watch, or all the childish TV shows. He wasn’t allowed to play his video games any more, something he threw quite the little tantrum over. Instead, he was given blocks and rattles and (if he was good) some of his favorite dollies. She didn’t have to cook much, Gerber took care of all his meals. She’d shovel pureed prunes and peas into his mouth and wipe up the contents to shove back in. She didn’t think she’d ever be changing Christian’s poopy diapers again, yet here she was.

But after only a few short months, she started to notice even more of a change in him. He became more reclusive, more whiny, more tearful.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” she asked, drying Christian’s eyes with his food splattered bib.

“I on’t wanna be uh baby anymore!” he cried.

But his Mother showed no sympathy. “Awww!! Well that’s too bad, hunny! This is what you wanted! Remember? You wanted this to be forever.”

Christian looked up at her with his little doe eyes, like he knew he’d made a grave mistake.

“I guess this is as good a time as ever to tell you…” Mother said, clearing her throat, “I’ve arranged for you to have a little…procedure.”

“Puceedur?” Christian could hardly get the words out, his brain was so numb.

“Yes honey. You know those little princess parts between your legs?” 

He looked confused.

“The ones inside your pampers.”

That seemed to make sense to him, anything involving diapers was easy to get his head around.

“Well you see honey, this procedure, this operation is going to take those away!”

His eyes went wide, but he still looked hazy. Like he could only slightly understand the gravity of the situation. It took several more seconds to finally sink in.

“B-b-but…I on’t wanna lose my princess parts!!”

His mother just shrugged, arms crossed. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, dear. You wanted this, and I’m just supporting you.”

She pulled a bottle from the bag, shaking it with her finger over the nipple, then brought that nipple to Christian’s lips.

“Drink up, honey!” she said softly, “This has all the ingredients to help you become the wittle baby gurl you’ve always dreamed of being!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a custom caption for one of my lovely followers on Substar! If you'd like one of your very own, simply subscribe to Silver or higher tiers!

body contrast and oil belly rubs must be my favorite thing in the entire world.

Patreon

Get more from John TheGainer on Patreon

Body positivism - follow my journey!

My girlfriend switched bodies with my uncle!

This is the story of how I ended up dating my uncle! It all started about 1 year ago. My girlfriend, Vanessa, and I met in college and had been together for 2 years. She used to spend the summer at my parents' house and we spent the whole day together. Those times were great! But my family was going through a financial crisis. My uncle Marcos was having a garage sale with old things from home in an attempt to help us with the crisis. My father let us rummage through an old pile of ancient magical artifacts that he collected in the past, he used to run the world looking for these artifacts.

Vanessa and I had started early to sort out the junk for sale. Only an hour later, Uncle Marcos arrived. He was a bit disgusting, at least that's what I thought at the time. He was a big-bellied and hairy guy, he almost never wore a shirt, leaving his father's body on display. He was annoying and clueless at times, talking loudly and trying to maintain the image of a brutish man. He arrived wearing only pants as always, raising his arms showing the thick hair of his sweaty armpits. Vanessa didn't like my uncle Marcos at all.

While we were sorting the junk, I ended up finding a peculiar object: a leather book with details of green stones on the cover. He had a strange language that he couldn't decipher. I called Vanessa to see it with me and soon my nosy uncle came close and stole the book from our hands. He tried to read what was written, making an irritating voice. Vanessa, already very stressed, decided to take the book by force from Uncle Marcos. But at the exact moment my yio finished pronouncing the words, and Vanessa held the book, a flash happened, leaving everyone stunned, and soon after we were thrown in opposite directions, each one holding a part of the book, causing it to tear.

With my heart racing and my mind confused, I ran towards Vanessa, who looked dazed. Instinctively, I leaned over to help her and, in a gesture of comfort, I gave her a light kiss, saying: "It's going to be okay, love." However, his reaction was completely unexpected. She made a face and spoke in a different tone of voice that I didn't immediately recognize: "Are you crazy?" Perplexed, I watched as she put her hands to her throat, as if something was different. My despair grew when I asked her what had happened, and she screamed in response, her eyes widening as she looked at Uncle Marcos' body on the other side. I tried to calm her down, saying he should be fine, but her next sentence made my world spin: "You don't understand, I'm Marcos!! How can I be in two places??." A wave of shock ran through my body as I tried to process what she had just said. I looked at her, at my uncle's body, and at the torn half of the book I still held, trying to piece together the fragments of understanding. Whatever happened caused my girlfriend to switch bodies with my uncle!

My uncle's body began to move and wake up. A mix of fear and perplexity took over me when I saw Vanessa, in Marcos' body, get up, putting her hand on her head and asking what had happened. But his voice wasn't the same; it was serious and harsh, completely different from hers. The moment she noticed the change in her voice, Vanessa, in Marcos' body, covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Her eyes widened as she took in the rest of the furry body she now inhabited. A hoarse, masculine scream escaped her mouth as she desperately tried to get up and grabbed my hand. His newly acquired strength, still not used to the new body, ended up pulling me down, and I fell onto his hairy chest, completely confused and not knowing what to do.

Hours passed while the three remained in the living room, awaiting the arrival of Jonas's father, the only person who could guide them on what to do. Vanessa couldn't stop crying, and it was strange to see my uncle's body so emotional, something I had never witnessed before. "We'll fix this, love, I promise", I said, trying to comfort her as the situation seemed increasingly desperate, she seemed to be quite uncomfortable with her shirt off so she asked me to find something for her to wear "find something to cover me, I'm disgusting!"

Finally, my father arrived and explained, between laughs, that the book was capable of changing people's bodies and that he used to use it in his magic show performances. "All we need to sort out this mess is the book to trade you back," he said. However, a heavy silence fell in the room when we realized that the book had been destroyed during the confusion. After hearing this revelation, my father looked horrified and, after a moment of silence, explained that the exchange would now be permanent. My heart sank at the time, realizing that my girlfriend would be an old man forever. My uncle was left unresponsive, while Vanessa looked in shock, unable to process the idea of ​​being trapped in someone else's body forever.

It was difficult for both of them to adapt to the new situation. I loved Vanessa and I couldn't abandon her like that. Even now, she was in my uncle's body. However, I had never been physically involved with a man before, especially when it was my uncle Marcos! A month passed after the exchange and I continued to keep her company, trying to find some form of comfort in this unusual situation. However, it seemed that the male body's hormones were causing changes in Vanessa's personality. At first, she opted for the shirts because she was repulsed by her father's hairy body. Now she couldn't even wear pants! He walked around the house in just his underwear, scratching his bulging belly. His vocabulary also changed, it seemed like he was living more and more with my original uncle Marcos, even in the way he slept. I remember one day coming home and seeing her sleeping, snoring very loudly with her arms up, leaving her armpit hair showing. I couldn't help but notice the path from his twat that led down to your underwear, where there was a huge erection.

As soon as I got closer tiredly so I could sleep, Wanessa turned towards me and hugged me from behind. As soon as I felt her huge erection sticking into my back, I stood up quickly, then she grabbed my arm. "What are you doing?" I asked trying to distance myself. "It's been a long time since we've touched." She said with my uncle's penis throbbing between her legs. "I can't do that! You're a hairy man now" I tried to argue, but she had a lot more attitude now. He pulled me into a hot, rough kiss. It was a totally different experience. Marcos' mouth was big and seemed to dominate mine, leaving me dazed and confused with the mixture and sensation that it provoked in me, but in the end I ended up thirsty. She pulled me closer and my chest was pressed against her hairy chest. I could barely breathe between pauses in the kiss. As soon as I pull away for a second, Wanessa pulls my face into her hairy armpit. The musky smell together with the macular moans in my ear made me dizzy with so much pleasure.

The rest of the sex was very hot, Wanessa, or better said, “Uncle Marcos” dominated me like a real bull. the hormones really turned my girlfriend into a wild animal. After sucking my uncle while he forced my head against his new hairy member, he fucked me like an animal! We had sex all night and then slept cuddled up together. The next morning, I wake up with my head resting on my new boyfriend's soft chest, sweaty and tired. It was incredible, it felt powerful even when sleeping. My hand stroked your father's belly as he snored.

A year passed, and everything seemed to be fine. My uncle, now in Vanessa's body, seemed to have adapted surprisingly well to his new life. The last time I visited him, he was much more feminine and gentle than before, as if my old girlfriend's kind and sweet personality had left a mark on him. Meanwhile, my now boyfriend Marcos and I were very happy together. Although it was difficult for my parents to accept the situation, and my friends still made fun of me for dating a 40-year-old man, we didn't care. Marcos dove head first into his new life, assuming his new personality with ease. Now we fuck each other every day haha. During this time, Marcos gained weight and now has a lot of white hair on his body and a bald spot that comes with age, making him more virile and hot. Our relationship has never been as good as it is now.

CARRYING GRANDPA'S BELLY

I woke up that morning feeling something very, very strange. It wasn’t just discomfort; it was as if my body had undergone changes during the night. Still with my eyes closed, I began to notice the difference. I always slept without a shirt, enjoying the coolness of the night on my skin. But at that moment, as I tried to move, I felt something dense, heavy, covered in coarse hair brushing against the sheets. My heart started racing. Something was wrong, very wrong…

I opened my eyes wide and came face to face with a giant shape under the blanket. My first reaction was to pull the blanket away forcefully, and what I saw made me let out a scream. A scream that wasn’t mine. It was hoarse, choked, the kind of sound I never imagined coming from my mouth—it was the scream of an old man.

There was a huge, hairy belly covering my body. My hands, when I looked at them, seemed to be wearing meat gloves. The fingers were thick, swollen, covered in hair. Moving them felt like a herculean effort, as if every joint were rusted. I could barely recognize my own hands. The shock was so intense that I nearly fell out of bed as I got up, feeling every bone creaking under the weight of the body. I dragged myself to the bathroom, each step felt like a test of strength and balance, as if my body were fighting against gravity.

When I finally reached the mirror, I clung to the sink as if I were holding on to the edge of an abyss. And what I saw… God, what I saw. My face, or rather, the face I knew, was not there. In its place was an old, bald man with deep wrinkles, a grotesque double chin, and almost no hair—it was my Grandpa Hank! My hand trembled as I lifted it to touch my head. The skin was rough, and the few strands of hair barely covered the bald spot. My eyes were wide, almost out of their sockets, as I made faces, trying to recognize myself in that visage. Then I turned to the side, my giant belly in the mirror, looking at the extent of the damage that had happened to me—I was enormous! The sensation of carrying all that flesh was strange and nauseating.

My breathing came in gasps, and sweat poured down my forehead, neck, and back. I was sweating like a pig just standing there, feeling the body that once belonged to my grandfather. I felt the weight of the belly with my hand, and it was like touching a ball of soft meat, swaying and bouncing with every movement. It was a nightmare; it had to be. I tried to smile, or at least attempted to, and the teeth I saw were yellowed, misaligned—everything my perfect teeth never were. Suddenly, it hit me: I needed to call someone. But where? Where the hell did my grandfather keep his phone? Everything in that room was a mess, a pile of old things and junk that never made sense to me. I was about to panic when I noticed the television was on. And there, on the news, I saw… The Great Change. I quickly sat in my grandfather’s armchair, trying not to think about the sensation of throwing all that weight against the chair, making every inch of my fleshy body tremble. I could see my reflection on the TV, a sweaty, fat man in just his underwear—it was humiliating. The news showed millions of people swapping bodies, and I was one of those unlucky people. I watched in horror as reports of desperate body-swapped individuals aired, and now I was left with only myself and a belly the size of a beach ball. I think I’m going to cry…

Two years had passed, and the adjustment process was a slow torture. Living in the body of an old, fat man is a prison. Every day was a new battle against the weight, age, and gravity. The belly never ceased to bother me. Sitting was a challenge; the extra weight pulled me down, suffocating me. Peeing standing up? Forget it. The big belly prevented me from seeing anything down there, and I had to learn to pee sitting down, as if that were the cherry on top of this cake of misery. Every piece of clothing I wear now accentuates my grandfather’s enormous belly; I keep bumping into things with it. My brain is still that of a slim man, you know? So it’s very difficult to adapt to this old guy. Besides the unpleasant looks I get, at least the kids still talk to me, asking if I’m some kind of Santa Claus or something like that.

And then there was Dani… My girlfriend, who wanted nothing more to do with me. The old man, in my body, was still with her. And she had the nerve to say she preferred him like this, that he was a better boyfriend. I was arrogant, she said. Selfish. And now, he was kinder, more affectionate. Hearing that was like being stabbed in the chest. The grandfather I always despised was living the life I had built, while I was trapped in this deformed body. I still remember being a child and looking at my grandfather, afraid of ending up like him—fat and bald. And now here I am, holding his belly, living the life he left behind. On my 63rd birthday—which should have been my 23rd—my father, now my son, showed up to celebrate. The tasteless joke didn’t go unnoticed. I was pissed off, upset, and I didn’t want this to be my life. But what can I do? I’m stuck with it.

And the old man, my grandfather, he makes sure to send me messages, asking how I’m doing and helping me with my new lifestyle. But I can’t stop looking at his Instagram, seeing him post pictures with my girlfriend, showing off the muscles that were once mine. Every day I get more pissed off because it’s so unfair… I’ve lost more than half of my life. And now, I’m just an old, fat man, holding the belly I always feared. I relaxed my massive body in the hot tub—the one upside to this change is that my grandfather, feeling sorry for me, left me his fortune and his house. At least here, I can enjoy his luxuries.

Resting in the bathtub, scrolling through my phone while I absentmindedly rubbed my hairy belly, I came across information about a recovery center for people who had also swapped bodies. They kept sending me invitations, but I turned them all down; going to those places felt like accepting that I’d be like this forever. But after some time passed and nothing returned to normal, I decided to go there, driven by curiosity and the desperate need to find someone who understood what I was going through. The place was full of stories and experiences—athletes who swapped bodies with fat guys, girls who swapped bodies with their muscular dads, young people who turned old… but I could only focus on my own misery.

There, I found an old friend, one of the few I had left. He had also swapped bodies, but with a bald, pot-bellied guy in his 40s. He used to be as arrogant as I was before the swap, but now, he was just another middle-aged guy trying to make sense of it all. We talked for hours, sharing our frustrations.

He complained about the endless hair on his body—impossible to get rid of—and how his new body craved greasy food, and he could barely control himself. I understood him well; in this new body, I felt hungry almost all the time. After that meeting, we started seeing each other frequently became my favorite pastime. The strange thing is, as the days went by, I started to realize that he was falling in love with me. Maybe it was some kind of crazy fetish, a result of this cursed swap, or maybe it was just the desperate need for human connection. But who am I to judge? I think I feel the same… I was never gay, but he was the only person who understood my situation, the only thing left to hold onto. Years had passed, and there was no sign of anyone fixing things—it was better for my mental health to get used to it...

There is nothing sexier than those little noises that littles make when they are pushing out a big one into their diaper. Those grunts and whines and moans are pure perfection and never cease to make me wet.