#lard pup

[pudgybun]

Are there any cute lil endearing and/or sexy nicknames you like, feedism-related or otherwise? What about no-go nicknames?

Feedism related: piggy, fat puppy, cow, whale, hog, fatty, butterball, blob boy, chubba bun, bear cub, big boy, fatass

Non feedism related dom: master, God, sir, my Lord, Highest, mommy

Non feedism related sub: baby, angel, puppy, cutie, good boy, pup

Nicknames my friends and bf call me: Peetie (no idea why. It's not based on anything I'm just Peetie!), "Sweet Peet", Lucky, Doll, Baby!

No Go nicknames: most of those nicknames if it's not something I say is okay beforehand, miss/mistress, daddy, kitten, anything with "lard" unless I say it first.

#im probably missing a lot #i love pet names and titles #asks

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

hey hey hey- Werewolf Pepa with Hunter Felix- Go ahead, go crazy, I know you want to-

OKAY THIS BITCH- we brainstormed this idea last night and i went FERAL lets GO????

"Bruno, it's your turn tonight."

"Ugh, we'll be hungry AGAIN."

Pepa grumbled. Ever since they were little pups, Bruno has never been a provider for the family. Sure, he could hear and see better than any of them combined, but what good is seeing if you take no action? Her mother glared at her as she sat at the table, scratching at the wood.

"Are you questioning my decision, Pepa?"

Pepa knew better than to cross her mother. Not only BECAUSE she was her mother, but as the leader of their pack, she was not meant to be questioned. Pepa scoffed, refusing to look at her glare.

"No, I'm questioning Bruno. The last time he hunted, he brought home a rabbit. ONE. I pick my teeth with rabbits! He should be called a werecat because he's such a PUSSY."

"Pepa!"

Cried her sister. The whole time, Señorita perfecta Julieta was cutting up the meat from their last hunt. Sure, they had normal food, but when the full moon rises, like it will in two days from now, only fresh, still pulsing meat sated them. Abuela patted her son's head upon seeing his pout. Most animals kick out the runt of the litter. Not her. If anything, she coddled him more BECAUSE he was so much smaller than everyone else.

"Your brother does his part, just like everyone else. Julieta can't go hunting, she needs to continue rationing what we have left."

"Then let ME go! You haven't let me hunt in so long, I feel like I have hay fever!"

"No. I know you. You will go into town and flirt with the men to bring home. It is too risky."

Pepa stood up from her seat, enraged. Did she like killing people? No. But humans tended to be so fatty and they lasted them MUCH longer than a hog or a deer.

"It gets meat on this table, doesn't it?! And I haven't been caught yet!"

Julieta leaned in a bit to her mother, slightly wincing.

"The lard from a real fat human could sate us for quite some time, mother. Not to mention it'd relax Pepa a bit."

Abuela sighed, before eventually relenting. So fucking easy for Julieta, she couldn't believe it.

"Fine. You may have Bruno's turn. You know the rules."

"Yeah yeah, don't get caught, check both sides of the road, be back before moondown-okay bye!"

She didn't let her mother finish her final thoughts before she went out the door. She peered down their giant hill, at the town below. They were so cut off from everyone else, only Abuela was really allowed down there for supplies. Time to get to hunting.

-----------------------

Ah the taste of failure. She was familiar with it. She stopped by a bar, hoping her looks would be enough to bring home a man. Unfortunately, it was slim pickings. Anything that flirted with her looked so thin, it'd make Bruno's catch look good. Everyone else was too drunk to get her flirts, much less stand up. She was happy to get a few drinks in at least, but she decided she should probably go.

That was when he walked in.

A big, thick looking man. Dressed in all black, he seemed to blend into the night. He had such a heavy gait as he walked in, the wood creaking under his steps, only stopping when he sat down, just a seat away from her.

"Beer, please."

His voice was...nice. Really nice. His stupid hat was covering what she could only assume was a tasty looking face. He pulled what appeared to be a notebook from his jacket, starting to scribble in it. She caught a glimpse of his his eye under his hat. Those rich brown orbs seemed to check her out, just for a second, before they looked at the beer he was just handed. She had his attention. Time to make a move. She slid over to him, casually as she could, before speaking.

"Hope you don't mind I sit here. You looked lonely, pobrecito."

He took a swig of his beer, before finally lifting his gaze up to her, letting her see his face. Oh. Oh he was handsome. A nice nose, facial hair that was just right for his sort of face, and a grin that hit her like a silver bullet.

"Such a nice lady you are, worrying about this poor stranger. I don't mind at all, Señorita."

"It's Pepa, actually."

"Félix. So nice to meet you, Pepa."

She offered him her hand, and his big, gloved hand carefully held onto it, bringing it to his lips, and kissing the back of it. Such a gentleman. A real handsome one to boot. She chuckled, taking the opportunity to snatch his hat, and put it on her own head. He looked so much more handsome without it.

"So, what is this poor stranger up to in a place like this?"

"Work related. Apparently this town has a bit of a pest control problem, that's where I come in."

"What? Gophers? I've seen plenty of those around, pesky bastards."

He chuckled at that, clearly amused.

"Something...bigger. But I don't want to talk about work. You're much more interesting. You from around here?"

Pepa nodded, raising her glass to have her drink replaced. Hey, she hardly got into town, why not have her fill?

"I am. I live a bit out of the way from here, but essentially I'm a part of the town. You aren't though, I can smell it."

He looked perplexed, and she realized she fucked up with her words. Thankfully, he seemed more amused than anything.

"I SMELL? Bad, or?"

"Oh no no no. Just...different. Maybe it's because I've already had a few,"

She accepted her hurricane. She WANTED a bushwacker or a mudslide, but hey, take what you can get.

"But let me ask. You got a ring under those gloves?"

He took off his gloves, revealing big, beautiful hands. Hands that had clearly done labor, but still looked so damn soft, she could sleep on them.

"Nope, clean. Could never find the right woman. Mi mami hates it, always trying to set me up with her friend's daughters. And once, her actual seventy five year old friend. Listen, I'm not into old women like that, but being called 'puddin' was flattering."

That made her snort, and something in his eyes told her that's exactly what he wanted. Tricky bastard. She liked him.

"Eh, I could never get married either. Could never find a man that could handle me."

Félix seemed to notice some music picking up in the background, and he got up from his seat, holding out a hand to her.

"Would you be willing to let me try?"

She shouldn't. She WANTED to, she LOVED to dance, especially with confident men like him. But she was tipsy, and he was cute. Unfortunately, common sense won, and she took a hold of his hand. It was so much bigger than hers, not to mention SO much softer than she thought they'd be.

"Yes. You may try."

He walked her to the dance floor, and immediately took a hold of her other hand, holding their bodies together. He was shorter than her, but with how warm his body was, she didn't mind it. He was going to gush when they tore into him. She took the lead, and to her surprise, he let her. He followed her as if he was her shadow, somehow knowing exactly when to move, knowing when to spin her. He laughed as he continued to match her steps, but somehow gave her the limelight.

"Damn mami, look at you GO! Is all that just for me?"

"Ha, you WISH, hombrecito!"

The song finished, just in time for Félix to give her another twirl, and yank her towards him. Hand on her lower back, just above her ass. All while he still held her hand, all while he still pressed his big, firm body against her own. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they were silent. The bar was still empty, but that didn't matter, she still felt her nerves bubbling inside of her. She could smell the nerves on him too, the sound of his heart pounding, his blood rushing. It was intoxicating. He gave a soft chuckle, just coming out with it.

"At the risk of being too much, it's a bit too late for a lady like you to be out at night. There's an inn right across the street, and I DO get lonely."

"Be blunt, I don't have time for riddles."

"Alright. I want to buy us a room. And I really, REALLY want to fuck the woman I'm holding onto right now. I want to break the headboard, and I want to make those pretty legs buckle for me."

Oh that voice. That tone. She should say no. Her mother would definitely tell her no. She SHOULD drag him up to her place for dinner. But she didn't want to share. Not with this new hunger she's experiencing.

"Then save my legs the effort. Carry me there."

She was practically giddy as he swooped her up bridal style. She clung onto him, kissing the side of his face, and muttering words dirty enough to make Satan blush. It made getting the room difficult, it made walking to their room difficult, but when he tossed her onto the bed, slamming the door shut with his foot, she didn't regret it. Not when he he took off his jacket and his shirt. Oh he was bigger than she thought. He had a bit of a gut, but he wasn’t unfit by any means. A mane of hair trickled from his perfect chest, down his gut, to the underwear. She knew it got even better downsouth, she just knew it. He put one hand on the headboard, while his other lifted her chin up for him.

"You should know, I'm not gentle."

"If you treated me gently, I'd fucking kill you."

"You're terrifying, anyone ever told you that?"

She let a hand run down his big, perfect body, reaching inside his pants. So much pubic hair, it suited that THICK cock of his. His face looked SO precious when he was touched. She wanted more. Wanted to see every single face her new toy could make.

"I've been called a lot of things. And right now, I'm your FUCKING mami."

She couldn't take it anymore. She leapt at him, and proceeded to consume him. Every. Single. Inch of him.

And he was the tastiest meal she's ever had.

-------------------

She grumbled a bit as the weight of him standing woke her up. She watched him as put his pants back on, just now realizing what had happened last night. The taste of his cum still hung heavy in her mouth, and it was just as tasty as blood could be.

"Oh. Leaving already, hombre?"

"You're awake? Dammit. I was going to get us some breakfast. Usually I'm a hit it and quit it man, but...I like you, Pepa."

She chuckled as he leaned down to kiss her lips a dew times, much to her delight. She let her nails dance up his chest, ever so slowly.

"Hmmm...I AM hungry. You're off the menu?"

"Once I get us some food, I'll be right back on it ~"

He chuckled as he went to the bathroom, and she sat up, taking a look around. Clothes all over the floor, messy sheets, condom in the trash. Jeez, she hardly remembered last night. She just knew right now, she felt really, REALLY good. Even with all the hickies he left. Funny, the prey biting HER for once-

"Holy SHIT! Did you see what you did to my back?!"

She kept her breasts covered with her blanket upon him yelling, mainly as a panic response. She looked into the bathroom, and he had his back towards her, revealing HUGE scratch marks all over his poor skin. Ones her human form didn't make. Within a week of the upcoming full moon, werewolves tended to have these random spurts of energy, causing very temporary transformations. It happened last night it seemed, but they both DID drink a bit, so he probably didn't remember.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No no, I'm not mad or hurt or anything- I'm just saying! You did a number on me! You are a FIERY woman!"

She chuckled as he disappeared into the bathroom. He was so dumb. Head over heels for her already. But, she had a feeling she was no better. She looked around the bed, before grabbing his jacket. She brought it to her face, and sniffed. Oh, that smelled incredible. So rich and smooth, she swore she was going to take it home and rut against it like a bitch in heat. But something smelled...off. Something past his scent. She thought it was nothing, especially given how he came back out to grab it.

"Thank you. Now, what are we thinking for breakfast? Doughnuts?"

"YES. Chocolate ones. I LOVE chocolate!"

"Don't I know it~"

He grinned. He was about to put it on, when something fell from his pocket. A gun. She scooted away from it upon instinct.

"Why do you have a gun?!"

"Easy, easy! This is for my job!"

He reached for the gun off the floor, and sat at the edge of thr bed. She glared at him, smacking his shoulder in fury.

"You said you dealt with pests! What pests do you deal with THAT?!"

He sighed, before opening the barrel of the handgun, to show her the ammunition. Silver bullets. Her heart stopped in her chest, and she couldn't breathe. He knew that look on her face, and shrugged.

"I know, I know. Seems crazy. But it pays well, and I'm good at it. There was four different werewolf sightings here, so they called me. I was going to scope out the local scene last night, but then I met you."

Her hands felt clammy as he pulled out his journal, handing it to her. It was a horror story. Pictures of dead bodies littered his notebook, little tuffs of fur taped to the pages, and his handwriting littered the paper.

"H...how many h-have you killed?"

"Ninety-six. These last four are gonna be my hundred, so I'm taking it a bit personal. It's easy once you get their behavior. You just get them right where you want them,"

She watched as he aimed the gun into nothingness, pretending to fire it.

"Then shoot. I'm pretty good, I get the heart every time."

She turned the next page, and it got even worse. Pictures of them. They were blurry, clearly taken by some bystander. But it was them. Bruno, the runt of the litter, dark in fur and scraggly, his green eyes were a blurr. Julieta, stealthy, blue eyed, and black fur, she was amazed they got her, given that she was reclused and careful as she was. They even got her mother, big, gray, eyes blood red and looking like a hound straight out of hell. Then there was herself. Orange fur, her lithe (yet a bit bow legged) body was somehow caught on camera despite her speed, with her yellow eyes shining like a beacon.

"Hey hey, easy. Dont worry, ill protect you from the big scary monsters."

He held onto her face, and kissed her cheek. She didn’t have the heart to tell this big, beautiful man, that the monster in her eyes, was currently kissing her.

#not transformers #encanto #asks #lemon #ish #LISTEN IM OBSESSED #HOLY S H I T I AM #YOU GUYS #WEREWOLF AU #YOU ARENT READY #also #each werewolf has a certain 'magic' to them #bruno has heightened senses #Julieta is incredibly stealthy #Pepa is the fastest #and Abuela #Abuela is the REAL scary one #you dont wanna know what she can do

[verm1c1de]

i made. an au.

more under the cut:

basically the irkens and the vortians have swapped roles except theres also some extra fuck-up-ery! lard nar ((henceforth called lord nar)) is the patriarch of vort, the tallest are fake rulers, and zim,,,, is still not immune to propaganda. meanwhile dib seems a little. out of place. out of time, maybe? anyways.

basically a ballsfuck long time ago the vortians and the then-still-space-conquerers irkens got into a war and the vortians won. somewhere along the way they realized irkens were fucking Delicious. they dont view themselves as monsters, after, all, they take good care of their produce! the irkens are still under the impression that theyre free and Not being farmed despite all the evidence to the contrary. the tallest are there to keep up this facade, under the condition that they get the best care and luxury. but theyre still up for the chopping block like the rest of them

lord nar is. BATSHIT INSANE. and a bit of a showman. hes still a coward, to the point of paranoia even, and likes to hide rather than confront actual problems. not that hes the Worst leader ever, but thats why he has 777 ((win gert)) as an advisor. he doesnt trust anybody else. win gert is actually kind of a better leader than him, but lord nar stole the spot of patriarch and win gert doesnt really care that much in the first place. he just wants him and his kids to be well taken care of, and the role of the partriarchs sole advisor pays well. he also likes to help zim cause trouble just for shits and giggles. it irritates lord nar to no end but theyre besties and he cant just get rid of him.

zim fully believes that the vortians arent trying to eat them. why would they? theyre so nice and soft and squooshy, thats just dumb! lord nar loves him! hes his favorite! heck, hes practically his pup! he just wants a little more,,, something to actually do in this boring paradise. he wants to become an invader like the irkens of past! what could possibly go wrong with that? Then zim fucked up real bad and lord nar got tired of his shit and tried to kill him. he never really saw zim as anything more than cute livestock, huh? that sure wont traumatize a child At All! now hes on the run with dib, who saved him from his fate on the dining table

meanwhile, dib isnt from here! literally! hes the reason the timeline got fucked up ((somehow)) and now hes trying to fix it. but. everythings so different now. this Cant be the same zim that tried to destroy earth, the same one that was his so dearest rival? this has to be fixed. somehow. and hell need zims help to do it

i was gonna baked you a resisty skoodge, but i eated him :((

#iz #invader zim #iz au #lord nar au #lard nar #zim #prisoner 777 #the tallest #which one? who the hell knows #dib #dib membrane #my art #tw cannibalism #not really Cannibalism but sentient people are being eaten #anyways i had metalcrusher stuck in my head during school and that led to this. sorry #not sorry lord nar is pretty #bitches love sci-fi roman-eque empires #uhh #zade #zadf #zadr #????????? #a lil bit #eyebleed #eyestrain #tw eyestrain #bright colors #high saturation #high contrast

[envihellbender]

Martin is waiting in Elias’ office, and has to deal with the strange interest of his immobile with fat human pup Peter.

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas

Verse: TMA Human Pet AU

Content: Weight gain, immobile blob, human pet, human canine, exhibitionism(?), rut/heat

—

Everyone knew that Elias’ pet Peter often came to work with him, but as he didn’t like to be out in the open it was easy to forget about his presence entirely. So when Martin let himself into Elias’s office, nervously gripping onto a file he wished to discuss, he jumped when he saw the gigantic human canine in the corner on a large, ornate emerald green cushion. Peter was sat up, his mass of fat allowing him to sit up without harming his tail, which was also hidden by adipose. His ears were thick, and covered in black curly fur, they rested on the gigantic tyre that was his neck roll. They had jutted forwards, showing his sudden curiosity and burst of energy from seeing Martin. However, based on Peter’s squirming and struggling that caused his fat to ripple and shake - it seemed as if he was too huge to be mobile.

“Oh, hello,” Martin said awkwardly, forcing a smile towards the overgrown pet. He sat down in the chair in front of Elias’s desk. The entire office was very well furnished, but despite that the oak arms still pinched into Martin’s hips no matter how comfortable the deep green cushions were. It felt like a bit of a slap in the face given how underfunded the rest of the Institute was but he tried not to think about it. He did have the case to think about after all, and the gigantic ball of lard staring at him. “You must be Peter,” he added, trying to fill the silence. Peter gave a wheezing bark, one that almost sounded like a word but not one Martin could recognise. Afterwards, he lifted a heavy, adipose ridden hand and reached out towards Martin.

“Erm, do you- do you need something?” Martin asked, too anxious by the display to get any closer. He stared with a frown, he knew Peter couldn’t answer but he was focused on his body language. Peter gave a desperate bark, one of his hands still stretched out and the other starting to shake his gut. Martin sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, it seemed Elias’s pet was in a rut and liked the look of Martin. He recognised the look from his own pet, Tim. Of course, when he was worked up it was sweet and enticing. Being leered at by a gigantic old beast was not quite what he wanted.

Martin tried to ignore him, as Peter’s wheezing became more insistent and groaning. He was rocking back and forth, his fat rolls shaking, wobbling, and a wet, slapping noise filling the room. It seemed Peter could fuck his own fat, it was quite a spectacle. Martin hadn’t seen a dog this huge before and he found himself resisting the urge to stare. He didn’t want to give the pet the wrong idea after all, what made it harder is he could feel his intense gaze. He was oddly familiar in ways Martin couldn’t explain, with his dark brown skin and curly black hair. Strands were stuck between his neck roll but he didn’t seem to mind. When Martin wasn’t looking it seemed as if Peter was attempting to make as much noise as possible to get his attention, he groaned, barked, and wheezed desperately. When Martin occasionally gave in with the odd glance Peter had a smirk on his lips as he quietened.

“You know,” Martin sighed a little irritated. “You’re lucky you’re a canine, if you were just a standard old man this would definitely be a cause for HR.” He was sure he heard a laugh within Peter’s bark, but he dismissed it as his imagination playing tricks on him. Suddenly, the door flung open, Martin jumped to see Elias stood there not remotely surprised to see his employee waiting for him. His stomach crossed the threshold before the rest of his body, which almost filled the wide, generous door frame. The man had an infuriating smirk, as if he was arrogance incarnate.

“Elias,” Martin began curtly, irritated at himself for being so easily shocked.

“I see you’ve met my pride and joy,” Elias replied, as if there was a second meaning to what he was saying, something obvious Martin hadn’t noticed.

“Mhm. Quite the exotic pet you’ve got there, Elias,” Martin said between gritted teeth, feeling like Elias had just left him there to be a tantalising treat for Peter.

“Hm? Hardly. Just a particularly well fed hound, I think dogs should always have a full stomach.” Elias approached Peter as he spoke, he patted Peter’s gut and leant over crushing his stomach against Peter’s as he kissed his plump cheek. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble,” he added. “What brings you here?”

“Oh erm,” Martin answered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment for completely forgetting his actual reason for coming here in the first place. “I was look over a few statements and I…”

#envi writes #do not archive #martin Blackwood #Peter lukas #human pet

[resistysupportline]

I'm pretty sure there were very few things you could have done to prevent this from happening Lard Nar. But look at the potential bright side! You have someone on the Massive who's trusted by the Tallest. You could have Dib gather information, sabotage things, he's even allowed to kill just about whoever he wants on the Massive (mostly Irken drones) so this could probably be a good thing. Maybe.

> HOW IS THAT A GOOD THING!!!!!!!

> He's just a Pup how is he supposed to Survive being Surrounded by those. YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

> That would just get him Killed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> Who Knows what they're doing to him over there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> Like Brainwashing him or putting Fleshworms in his Spine or REPLACING HIM WITH AN EVIL TWIN CLONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> Ixane will... Take it from here u_u'

#Answer #text #narblog #IZ Ask Community

[thebestnaturalpetfoodstore]

What Are The Benefits Of Organic Dog Food?

New Post has been published on https://bestnaturalpetfoodstore.com/what-are-the-benefits-of-organic-dog-food/

What Are The Benefits Of Organic Dog Food?

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Pet owners have always been searching for dog food that will keep their pets healthy. Is organic the way to go?

The Benefits of Organic Dog Food

Organic dog food contains only the highest-quality human-grade ingredients. This type of diet is better for your pet’s health than other types of pet food because it is cleaner for the environment and consists of only natural foods. Choosing an organic formula is the best choice for your dog’s health. It also has a variety of benefits that you can customize to your own dog’s needs. You can even make your own dog food if you’d like to provide a more customized diet for your canine companion.

An organic dog food is better for your dog’s health. The ingredients of an organic food are not altered by chemicals, so your dog won’t develop allergies to them. Whole-food protein sources are also better for your pup’s digestive system, and they come from high-quality, safe sources. In addition to this, an organic food manufacturer must disclose the sourcing of each ingredient on the label, as many natural ingredients undergo chemical processing during manufacturing.

Grain and meat should be made from the highest-quality products. Avoid corn, which is a GMO, and other meats that contain high levels of protein. Organic foods should also be free of lard, which is a byproduct of animal agriculture. Choose grain-based foods instead of meat or beef. Chondroitin and Omega fatty acids help promote healthy skin and coat. The ingredients in your pet’s food should be high-quality and fresh, not overcooked. You should also look for labels that indicate whether the food is vegan or not.

Look For USDA Certification

When selecting a food for your pet, be sure to look for USDA certification. While USDA certification is not mandatory for organic pet food, the seal means the food meets certain standards that are required to produce wholesome, human-grade food. These foods also meet stringent quality-control guidelines, ensuring that you’re getting what you pay for. So, while looking for an organic dog meal, always check the labels first before buying.  Every experienced pet owner always reads the labels!

Aside from organic, grain-free dog food is more economical. If you don’t want to pay a premium for organic, you can try a dog food that is free from artificial dyes and other ingredients. A good example is Wellness CORE Natural Grain Free Dry Dog Food, which has a range of flavors and is a great option for your pooch. It also contains probiotics and glucosamine, which are two essential nutrients for a healthy immune system.

A good organic dog food will be free of chemicals, including hormones. In addition, organic foods are produced without any antibiotics, growth hormones, or genetically modified ingredients. Choosing a grain-free diet for your pet is best for its health. A grain-free food is the best option for a healthy diet. A quality dog food should be labeled with the name of its organic certifier. If your pooch has a sensitive stomach, it may not be able to digest it.

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#organic dog food

[valiisi]

The bully

(He's sleeping)

HE FINALLY ARRIVES IN MY INBOX!!! THANK YOU!!! THIS HAS MADE MY DAY! 

#meme #gift #val look! #Val don't look! #dog #bully #pup #pupper #lard pup #sleepy pup #bully pup #your welcome by the way #submission #BLESSED CONTENT

[graphitesblog]

I found a pup of lard!

#puppy's #puppysnuggles #puppies #puppylove #puppy #puppers #puppy memes #lard pup #sleepy

[chubote]

Don’t stop fucking yourself to your hoggish nature. Sexual pleasure needs to be synonymous with fattening up your body. Like grinding your fat pad is an essential part of nourishment. The more it turns you on, the more you’ll want to glut yourself even more than you already enjoy doing so. Soon regular meals will make you climax and your mega binges will be pure bliss. You’ll never be full enough, you’ll hump your lard to the thought of food itself like you do while stuffing now. Like a good hedonistic puppy

Trust me, I can't help myself, heh. I've trained myself far too well to associate sexual pleasure with gluttony. Whenever I glut myself, I get deeply turned on - mentally and physically. Whenever I'm turned on, I want to stuff myself until I'm pinned under my own achingly full gut. It's an insidious little cycle to be stuck in - and it's incredibly hot. It's no wonder my weight just keeps skyrocketing, there's no hope for me resisting such pleasure. And it shows with every pound of blubber added to my frame.

And of course, it's only getting worse as I continue to give in. I feel like I'm always slipping further down that spiral of gluttony and hedonism, and I absolutely love it. I don't doubt that I'll start unconsciously bucking against my fat pad at the mere thought of food sooner rather than later - being a hedonistic, hoggish pup is what I'm destined to be 🐶

#ask

[moved2violentfeedist]

The rank in the pack determined by weight so every single member tries gulping down more and more fattening meats and grease, their bodies struggling as they approach their limits. They let go of what humanity they used to cherish as they become more hedonistic and animalistic, even when the full moon isn't out. Piles of greasy, sweaty rolls of lard bark orders at their still mobile packmates, demanding more food or for someone to come help them get off. The alpha having dibs on the fattest breeding mates.

when mating season comes, five of the fattest ones are picked for the alpha to breed. their bellies growing with litters of multiples for the next few weeks while also growing fatter since now they need so much more food to stay strong and carry their pups

#ask #animalistic

[sebastianshaw]

In one of the X-Men Discord servers that I’m on, there is a section for the internal thoughts of the characters that you write. Naturally, I use this to be COMPLETELY HORRIBLE with Shaw. Here is a compiled list of things he has thought there. Read at your own risk, and trigger warning for. .  . honestly I don’t know how to begin, but if you follow this blog I figure you know I ENDORSE NONE OF THIS. under the cut for your sake

-  if you didn’t want to know about picking up a Filipino bar girl why would you ask how my day was it’s like screaming at a sushi chef for undercooking the fish -  they bring me back to life but can’t give me a new goddamn back?! -  Note to self, petition to Council to resurrect son Note to self two, remember his name and which one he is this time -  so there’s just an indeterminate number of telepathic teen girls here who look almost exactly like Emma before her nose job? I don’t even want to know at this point seriously though how many are there I can’t tell they’re goddamned identical--- -literally just going to hire this girl to scratch my back she's good at it JESUS THE RELIEF -  Aloba Dastoor is a sweet, well-mannered young man. I think I'd like to rearrange his intestines with my--- -  why does every gay man into pup play have a dead mother he didn't get to come out to what is the connection here IT'S EVERY TIME -  by damn why does no one discipline their children, you may think this is cute but everyone else is looking at you to sort your little crotch debris out or SOMEONE ELSE WILL -  that boob job is so bad she looks like a Hasbro knockoff -  you just can't be sure about a person until you know what they think of  the fall of Constantinople in 1453 by the Ottoman forces led by Mehmed II -  they're NOT bongos they are CONGAS they are the SAME SIZE -  This is less an ingrown hair at this point and more of an ingrown wig -  such a lack of decorum, I have bad days sometimes too but it hardly ever results in murder -  his arm looks like a big veiny cock never thought I'd get hard just seeing an arm -  wish you really could get oil from babies -  gold plated bare breasted - Wait so who was in the trunk - thinking about how this island doesn't have taxes is better than opioids -  It’s gonna be a closed casket funeral buddy -  it looks rather anal -  organizer my ass that fool couldn't organize a blow job if he was in a Nevada brothel with a pocket full of a hundred dollar bills -  I'd rather put up with a candiru than these people -  some people are impossible to underestimate -  cannot sit down without a beautiful woman trying for my wallet I'M FUCKING WORKING JESUS F---- -  -- wait which one is my kid fuck which one do I take maybe both maybe just say my kid wanted to bring a friend home fuck fuck fuck maybe I should just ask the daycare they have to get fathers asking that SOMETIMES should also ask if she’s free tonight --- -  fucking PLASTER in my mouth need to learn to close my fucking facehole when I barge through a wall--- - Cannot BELIEVE that woman asked me if I dropped Shinobi on the head as a child, that's making a very bold assumption that I EVER HELD HIM AT ALL -  another morning where I can’t seem to piss quite everything out, is this a resurrection issue or do I have another kidney stone - -  -not that I am complaining about the view but why don't hippies wear bras do they think it kills trees is it the rubber in the elastic since rubber comes from plants or maybe it's the metal underwire do they not like metal is that why they don't shave--- -  it's a paradox. I believe a man is responsible for his own mistakes. This means Shinobi alone is to blame for his failures. At the same time, he is -my-mistake. -  note to self, if a mother asks "but what if the baby remembers it?" the correct answer is not "then he'll know how to please a woman" -  how was I supposed to NOT laugh when it slipped out of the slave?? -  do me this, flog me that, sometimes I just want to sleep. it's been a long day. it's been a long life. - oh god I'm stuck in her like the Suez Canal -  Nope, don’t do it old boy. She’s crazy. Not typical clingy co-ed with daddy issues crazy, this is wake up with your cock in a jar crazy. I know we love that. But we love our penis more. -  I'm not handsome but jesus his teeth look like he was breastfed through a grease nipple - Even a shotgun wouldn’t shoot its load on THAT face - I’ve seen bigger breasts in the chicken meat aisle -  Looks like the kind of guy who would call his grandmother to change his flat tire -  Why does no one listen when I warn them "hold on tight, this will hit you like a tank" WHY DO YOU THINK I INSTALLED THE HAND RAILS YOU IDIOTS -  why do I even take the triple espresso shots overthinking keeps me awake enough - I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than spend ten seconds in these Council meetings -I don't see what the fuss is, there shouldn't be any fluid left on it -  It’s all fun and games until somebody loses a penis -  ok, plan is to suck a lemon first to mitigate the taste, then bypass my tongue with a boba straw -  note to self: tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of--Message #internal-thoughts -  how the fuck am I this drunk and STIll have a headache? besides Shinobi that is - that man’s penis is a deadly weapon -  It’s alive you can see it’s mouth open up right before it gets deep throated -  This is why I keep a dozen fresh eggs in my car at all times. -  You see anti-homeless spikes, I see free seating for hundreds -  Well, I suppose him calling me a "bootlicker" was TECHNICALLY not incorrect but--- -  in fairness to her, if I were covered in fingers, I would be doing that too -  I am not a squeamish man but "genitalia turns into a blood hyperbeam cannon" was not a power I was prepared to very LITERALLY face - The amount on the ceiling is mind-boggling -  her gag reflex is as absent as her father -  I'd tell @Roberto Da Costa  he's a disappointment, but I'm afraid he'd call me daddy - God damn, he still ate it?? Go buy new lettuce you weird fuck - Wait, are they gay racists? Gaycists? BROKEBACK BIGOTS?! - It burns, but that's how you know it's working. - How was HE the fastest sperm? Must have been like a goddamn Special Olympics swim

#internal thoughts #Shaw please

[bones-n-gold]

What kind of sea is your favorite? Glittering waves in sunlight crashing agaist the side of the ship? Or still and deep and ominous? Or that connected to the shore of a city?✨ (and yes this is kinda inspired by your superstition post :D)

My favorite kind of sea? Maybe the face she wears on a stormy summer afternoon, wind and rain and the smell of lightning. That feeling of thunder reverberating in your chest. Waves whipped frothy and high; birds battered this way and that. The kind of sea to bring you to your knees in a way the stillness of the church pews never could.

Maybe it’s a clear morning with that dim purple-blue light on the horizon and there are porpoises dancing with our wake. There’s a warm wind blowing just right and the sails snap as we catch it. The kind of sea that stretches on forever and a day, the kind that compels you with something like magic to sing and scream and laugh and dance and work until your throat and fingers and feet are raw from the joy of it.

Maybe it’s the kind of sea that kisses my cheeks with sunburn and salt spray as we come in to port. The kind with an old scratchy voice from hawking today’s catch every day of her life. The kind with curious sea lions hoping to steal lunch. The kind that plays with you like your childhood pup, teeth gentled, and reflects the sun in a way that damn near blinds you. The kind that makes you feel oh so human, haggling prices on lard and salt, giggling like a child, listening to the seagulls cry themselves hoarse.

This is a very poetic way (I hope) to say that I’ve never picked favorites in my life and I’m not gonna start now. I love every iteration of the ocean and if I can’t even choose a favorite color I don’t think I stand a Chance with this one.

(On a side note hOLY FUCK I INSPIRED THAT POETIC ASS QUESTION????? AHHHHHHHHH)

(On another side note!! Thank you for interacting you literally made my day, hopefully I didn’t respond to this too terribly late, I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and haven’t had the energy/inclination to check my inbox in quite a while)

#crew

[babylon-crashing]

the shark's parlor, by james dickey

Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came crawling under the stairs came up the first Two or three steps and the cottage stood on poles all night With the sea sprawled under it as we dreamed of the great fin circling Under the bedroom floor. In daylight there was my first brassy taste of beer And Payton Ford and I came back from the Glynn County slaughterhouse

With a bucket of entrails and blood. We tied one end of a hawser To a spindling porch-pillar and rowed straight out of the house Three hundred yards into the vast front yard of windless blue water The rope out slithering its coil the two-gallon jug stoppered and sealed With wax and a ten-foot chain leader a drop-forged shark-hook nestling. We cast our blood on the waters the land blood easily passing For sea blood and we sat in it for a moment with the stain spreading Out from the boat sat in a new radiance in the pond of blood in the sea Waiting for fins waiting to spill our guts also in the glowing water. We dumped the bucket, and baited the hook with a run-over collie pup. The jug Bobbed, trying to shake off the sun as a dog would shake off the sea. We rowed to the house feeling the same water lift the boat a new way, All the time seeing where we lived rise and dip with the oars. We tied up and sat down in rocking chairs, one eye on the other responding To the blue-eye wink of the jug. Payton got us a beer and we sat All morning sat there with blood on our minds the red mark out In the harbor slowly failing us then the house groaned the rope Sprang out of the water splinters flew we leapt from our chairs And grabbed the rope hauled did nothing the house coming subtly Apart all around us underfoot boards beginning to sparkle like sand Pulling out the tarred poles we slept propped-up on leaning to sea As in land-wind crabs scuttling from under the floor as we took runs about Two more porch-pillars and looked out and saw something a fish-flash An almighty fin in trouble a moiling of secret forces a false start Of water a round wave growing in the whole of Cumberland Sound the one ripple. Payton took off without a word I could not hold him either But clung to the rope anyway it was the whole house bending Its nails that held whatever it was coming in a little and like a fool I took up the slack on my wrist. The rope drew gently jerked I lifted Clean off the porch and hit the water the same water it was in I felt in blue blazing terror at the bottom of the stairs and scrambled Back up looking desperately into the human house as deeply as I could Stopping my gaze before it went out the wire screen of the back door Stopped it on the thistled rattan the rugs I lay on and read On my mother's sewing basket with next winter's socks spilling from it The flimsy vacation furniture a bucktoothed picture of myself. Payton came back with three men from a filling station and glanced at me Dripping water inexplicable then we all grabbed hold like a tug-of-war. We were gaining a little from us a cry went up from everywhere People came running. Behind us the house filled with men and boys. On the third step from the sea I took my place looking down the rope Going into the ocean, humming and shaking off drops. A houseful Of people put their backs into it going up the steps from me Into the living room through the kitchen down the back stairs Up and over a hill of sand across a dust road and onto a raised field Of dunes we were gaining the rope in my hands began to be wet With deeper water all other haulers retreated through the house But Payton and I on the stairs drawing hand over hand on our blood Drawing into existence by the nose a huge body becoming A hammerhead rolling in beery shallows and I began to let up But the rope strained behind me the town had gone Pulling-mad in our house far away in a field of sand they struggled They had turned their backs on the sea bent double some on their knees The rope over their shoulders like a bag of gold they strove for the ideal Esso station across the scorched meadow with the distant fish coming up The front stairs the sagging boards still coming in up taking Another step toward the empty house where the rope stood straining By itself through the rooms in the middle of the air. "Pass the word," Payton said, and I screamed it "Let up, good God, let up!" to no one there. The shark flopped on the porch, grating with salt-sand driving back in The nails he had pulled out coughing chunks of his formless blood. The screen door banged and tore off he scrambled on his tail slid Curved did a thing from another world and was out of his element and in Our vacation paradise cutting all four legs from under the dinner table With one deep-water move he unwove the rugs in a moment throwing pints Of blood over everything we owned knocked the buckteeth out of my picture His odd head full of crashed jelly-glass splinters and radio tubes thrashing Among the pages of fan magazines all the movie stars drenched in sea-blood Each time we thought he was dead he struggled back and smashed One more thing in all coming back to die three or four more times after death. At last we got him out logrolling him greasing his sandpaper skin With lard to slide him pulling on his chained lips as the tide came, Tumbled him down the steps as the first night wave went under the floor. He drifted off head back belly white as the moon. What could I do but buy That house for the one black mark still there against death a forehead- toucher in the room he circles beneath and has been invited to wreck? Blood hard as iron on the wall black with time still bloodlike Can be touched whenever the brow is drunk enough. All changes. Memory: Something like three-dimensional dancing in the limbs with age Feeling more in two worlds than one in all worlds the growing encounters.

#james dickey #poem #shark poetry #quote unquote #reblog

[verm1c1de]

nobody asked but its TOO LATE i have headcanons and i will SHARE THEM ((before i forget them all))

ahem

this will be covering both vort/vortian and lard nar hcs

- vortians are smaller than humans but larger than irkens. most of their body length is sweet sweet leg. maintaining leg health is important because the blood vessels in them help continue circulation. theyre carnivorous by nature, but modern vort is privy to new, foreign foods, such as irken junk. all vortians regardless of gender grow horns, and age determines their length. modern vortians can live to be 1000 years old! elderly vortians will also often grow little tufty beards! their ear fur begins to fray too

- vortians fucking love their sleeveless bodysuits and shoulder accessories. long sleeves arent a very common fashion choice

- vort is led by a matriarch ((or a patriarch, depends on their gender)) who is usually the oldest vortian with the most respect and most children. ((however not having children is slowly becoming normalized with progressive efforts))

- baby vortians are called pups, despite their similarities to goats. they usually are born in pairs of three, but litters of up to eight have occurred!

- vortians live communally and have close bonds with their families and neighbors. children are mostly raised by their bio parents but are just as often taken care of by their community

- lard nars mother, however, was feeling a little different and quirky after her husband died. she refused help from her family and neighbors in raising her singular pup. she was a very overprotective parent, which made already skittish baby nar even more anxious. however, she was a genuinely loving mom, who did her best to raise her precious baby boy

- vortians will be educated by their family and community for most of their early childhood before entering school when they are about 13 years old ((equivalently))

- lard nar was excited to go to school, even if he was pretty scared too. he was fascinated by science and wanted so badly to learn more than his mom could teach him. she fretted about it of course but nonetheless signed him up for it. sure she was tempted to constantly keep watch over her sweet baby, but maybe it was time for him to learn just a little bit of independence

- the first few weeks of school fucking SUCKED. lard nar was constantly anxious, breaking down over any pressure or challenge. he was also out of touch with his fellow students, not properly socialized during his early childhood. not that he was purposefully ostracized, no no, but vortian children arent very used to other pups who dont constantly want to talk and play! eventually though, they learned how to be more gentle with lard nar, and help him come out of his trembling shell. well, as best as they could anyways. he still screamed and fainted over the barest stressors

- irk and vort had been in an alliance almost since tallest miyuki first came into power. lard nar didnt encounter any irken influence at all really until the later years of his pupschool. sure he never saw an irken, but all the adults and nosy kids were talking about the politics between them, and he didnt know what to think of it. suddenly there was all of these advertisements about joining the irken military and science factions, working for them, buying from them, lard nar was pretty baffled by it

- but being a clever kid, of course he got into the science school he always wanted. the irken empire sponsored this school to let any vortian qualified enough join! yeah maybe military science wasnt his first choice, working with all of that dangerous equipment was a little frightening, but thats what science was all about! danger, and pushing through that fear to discover new things!

- and it didnt stop there. lard nar successfully graduated without blowing anything up, and everything was going uphill! he was quickly chosen for an off-plant research station ((also sponsored by irk)), good paying with good company, and he could not have been more excited. until the working conditions proved to be. less than stellar. he was paid wonderfully, but the working hours, the deadlines, the small team, the lack of vacation days, and management that never even set foot in the building was HELL. and still, he worked. surely they would be rewarded for this! they were making important weapons and ships for their trusted allies! tallest miyuki HERSELF commissioned them! he just had to keep going

- then came zim. zim was the highlight, and the bane of the station. he was destructive, but bright and clever. he was annoying and okay maybe a little untrustworthy as an outsider, but he was just a pup, and just as endearing. but they werent stupid. irkens didnt raise their pups, irkens did not treat them as such, and they certainly didnt love their pups, from the way he was dragged and thrown in by guards stating that he would remain there as some kind of exile or punishment. lard nar could see why, he was an absolute menace. but oh, he couldnt say no to those big ol eyes. of course, that tiny pup also created a monster that ate tallest miyuki and made irk start a war against vort for supposedly assassinating their leader, but he could never hate him. not like the others he would soon come to

- suddenly vort is on fire. ships, weapons, and buildings are destroyed. vortians are asked either to become workers, be arrested, or die. lard nars mother refused to go with the irkens until her son was back home. by the time he got there, it was long too late

- evading capture was difficult, and it was so so tempting to crumble, give in, and accept death or imprisonment. he was absolutely terrified. but he was the only one with a warship, he was the only one left standing, and he was the only one who could do something

- recruiting for the resisty mostly came from hushed whispers and careful careful planning. most werent fit for battle, let alone a whole resistance, but neither was lard nar, so he had to take what he could get

#iz #invader zim #vort #vortian #vortians #lard nar #headcanons #iz headcanons #longpost #long post #vermi.txt #ough #im so fucking good at this game #but ow my hands

[multi-fandom-imagine]

What A Handsome Wolf || Bigby Wolf ||

You and Bigby have been married for five years and out those five years the man has never shown you him as a wolf, you've seen his second form...a lot since that form seemed to come out a lot during sex, not that you minded. While you wouldn't mind seeing his second shift a little more you really wanted to see him as a wolf again.

You were young when you saw it and that was a long time ago.Wrinkling your nose you quickly grasped one of your children as they ran by.

"Bigby, why is it that I can see our babies as little wolves but I can't see yours."

Bigby snorted as he lent back into his chair, his son sitting on his lap as his other son and a little girl hung off from the arms of the chair.

"I don't have to slightest idea on what you're talking about."

"Really Bigby then what am I looking at now."

Turing to where you were pointing to Bigby noticed the last two of his children in the forms of two small wolf pups playing with each other.

Giving you a crooked smile he placed his son down as he rubbed the back of his neck. "They're only four, they can't control it."

"Its not that Bigby, I think it's adorable .Them running around looking like their father."

That made Bigby smile, he never thought he'd be this lucky . To be with a woman that not only accepts him and what he is but loves what their children are too.

"They are pretty cute" Walking over to you the man placed a kiss against his daughters head then set her down. Wrapping his arms around your waist he just nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Though I hate to take our own house down just because you wanted to see me as a wolf ."

Grinning you looked up at the man though your fingers traced a small pattern on his chest.

"If you show me your last from Bigby then I'll wear that Red number you like."

Standing on your toes you pressed your lips against his ear. "You know the one Bigby" Giving his ear a nip you could feel him clutch your hips.

"You promise?!" Glancing down at you , you noticed that Bigby's eyes turned a deep gold.

"Hmm I promise."

Grinning Bigby pulled you in for a deep kiss only to pull back when he heard a lard protest from his children.

Licking his lips Bigby huffed wrapped his arms around your waist. "Hey! I am allowed to kiss your mother."

"No!"

"Daddy thats gross !"

Rolling his eyes Bigby glanced down seeing at six of his children looking up at him with wide eyes.

"How about you guys go grab your coats and shoes...we're gonna go on a little trip okay."

Smiling you watched your children rush off,smiling at them you then grasped his hand. "You're such a wonderful father"

Giving you a smile Bigby gave you a quick kiss. "It's because I have you by my side."

Sighing you shook your head then grasped his cheeks. "Bigby, you need to know that you are a wonderful man....you protect the Fables, you treat me like a queen and you have you've seen the way you are to your children....stop thinking you're a lesser person."

Sighing Bigby smiled then kissed your head. "Thanks y/n...now lets get going..I have a form to show you right." Winking he gave your ass a slap before walking off.

You could see a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

"Wolf"

Getting all six of his children into the van has become an easy task for him and with in minutes they were off.

Glancing in the review mirror he noticed all of his pups sleeping he let out a sigh. "You know I never thought that I'd ever have this life. I've been put down my whole life....well then you came along....in that red hood of yours and changed everything."

Placing your hand on Bigbys knee you grasped his free hand then gave it a kiss. "And I wouldn't change it for the world."

Nibbling his lip he gave one last look at his children. "So you think we can try for more pups?"

Your eyes went wide though chuckling lent back into the car seat. "I'll be happy to try Bigby...but you don't think it will be six again? I love my babies but I don't know if I can take getting cut open again."

Feeling happier Bigby turned down the road where he'd always take his children to run.

"Possibility it could be three....im pretty sure one pup ain't gonna happens...wolves tend to have a litter."

"Well good bye body"

Bigby scoffed as he parked the car. "Honey the more meat on your body...well I rather not say it in front of the children."

Smiling you slipped out of the car, seeing your sleeping children you and Bigby kept the doors open.

"Sooo you gonna show me now?" Rocking on your heels you watched as the man undressed himself.

"Im not gonna ruin my clothes, before you say somethin"

Grinning you shook your head waiting for the man to change, it didn't take long for it to happen though you nearly squealed seeing your husband as the large wolf.

He was a lot bigger than what you remembered and his black fur looked so soft.

"I can see where Lilly gets her fur from"

Looking down at you Bigby half expect for you to run away screaming but you were smiling at him.

Wrinkling his nose he knelt his head down, he felt you wrap your arms around his snout.

Smiling you pressed a small kiss against his muzzle, stepping back you made your way over to his neck. Doing your best to hug him you were happy that he showed you.

"You're one handsome wolf"

#drabble #drabbles #bigby wolf #bigby #dad!bigby #sheriff wolf #sheriff bigby #twa #twa bigby #wolf among us bigby #wolf among us #the wolf among us #the wolf among us bigby

[healthnotion]

Ernest Hemingway’s Advice on Camping Out

Editor’s note: Throughout Ernest Hemingway’s life, he maintained a love for the outdoors and for outdoor pursuits. This love was inculcated early, as his father took him into the woods as soon as he was able to walk, and taught Ernest the rudiments of hunting and fishing when the boy was only a toddler. Hemingway Sr. further instructed his son in how to build fires, make wilderness shelters, tie fishing flies, and cook wild game; he always insisted that Ernest eat whatever he killed. Hemingway continued to relish hiking, backpacking, camping, and fishing as a young man, and these pursuits would prove healing after his experience in WWI and throughout his adulthood.

Before he broke through as a novelist, a twenty-something Hemingway worked as a staff writer for the Toronto Star Weekly, and penned this non-fiction piece for the paper in 1920. In it, he shares his well-earned advice for old fashioned camping, including the very best way to fry trout.

“Camping Out” By Ernest Hemingway

Thousands of people will go into the bush this summer to cut the high cost of living. A man who gets his two weeks’ salary while he is on vacation should be able to put those two weeks in fishing and camping and be able to save one week’s salary clear. He ought to be able to sleep comfortably every night, to eat well every day and to return to the city rested and in good condition.

But if he goes into the woods with a frying pan, an ignorance of black flies and mosquitoes, and a great and abiding lack of knowledge about cookery, the chances are that his return will be very different. He will come back with enough mosquito bites to make the back of his neck look like a relief map of the Caucasus. His digestion will be wrecked after a valiant battle to assimilate half-cooked or charred grub. And he won’t have had a decent night’s sleep while he has been gone.

He will solemnly raise his right hand and inform you that he has joined the grand army of never-agains. The call of the wild may be all right, but it’s a dog’s life. He’s heard the call of the tame with both ears. Waiter, bring him an order of milk toast.

In the first place, he overlooked the insects. Black flies, no-see-ums, deer flies, gnats and mosquitoes were instituted by the devil to force people to live in cities where he could get at them better. If it weren’t for them everybody would live in the bush and he would be out of work. It was a rather successful invention.

But there are lots of dopes that will counteract the pests. The simplest perhaps is oil of citronella. Two bits’ worth of this purchased at any pharmacist’s will be enough to last for two weeks in the worst fly and mosquito-ridden country.

Rub a little on the back of your neck, your forehead, and your wrists before you start fishing, and the blacks and skeeters will shun you. The odor of citronella is not offensive to people. It smells like gun oil. But the bugs do hate it.

Oil of pennyroyal and eucalyptol are also much hated by mosquitoes, and with citronella, they form the basis for many proprietary preparations. But it is cheaper and better to buy the straight citronella. Put a little on the mosquito netting that covers the front of your pup tent or canoe tent at night, and you won’t be bothered.

To be really rested and get any benefit out of a vacation a man must get a good night’s sleep every night. The first requisite for this is to have plenty of cover. It is twice as cold as you expect it will be in the bush four nights out of five, and a good plan is to take just double the bedding that you think you will need. An old quilt that you can wrap up in is as warm as two blankets.

Nearly all outdoor writers rhapsodize over the browse bed [a “mattress” made by layering the fans of evergreen boughs]. It is all right for the man who knows how to make one and has plenty of time. But in a succession of one-night camps on a canoe trip all you need is level ground for your tent floor and you will sleep all right if you have plenty of covers under you. Take twice as much cover as you think that you will need, and then put two-thirds of it under you. You will sleep warm and get your rest.

When it is clear weather you don’t need to pitch your tent if you are only stopping for the night. Drive four stakes at the head of your made-up bed and drape your mosquito bar over that, then you can sleep like a log and laugh at the mosquitoes.

Outside of insects and bum sleeping the rock that wrecks most camping trips is cooking. The average tyro’s idea of cooking is to fry everything and fry it good and plenty. Now, a frying pan is a most necessary thing to any trip, but you also need the old stew kettle and the folding reflector baker.

A pan of fried trout can’t be bettered and they don’t cost any more than ever. But there is a good and bad way of frying them.

The beginner puts his trout and his bacon in and over a brightly burning fire; the bacon curls up and dries into a dry tasteless cinder and the trout is burned outside while it is still raw inside. He eats them and it is all right if he is only out for the day and going home to a good meal at night. But if he is going to face more trout and bacon the next morning and other equally well-cooked dishes for the remainder of two weeks he is on the pathway to nervous dyspepsia.

The proper way is to cook over coals. Have several cans of Crisco or Cotosuet or one of the vegetable shortenings along that are as good as lard and excellent for all kinds of shortening. Put the bacon in and when it is about half cooked lay the trout in the hot grease, dipping them in corn meal first. Then put the bacon on top of the trout and it will baste them as it slowly cooks.

The coffee can be boiling at the same time and in a smaller skillet pancakes being made that are satisfying the other campers while they are waiting for the trout.

With the prepared pancake flours you take a cupful of pancake flour and add a cup of water. Mix the water and flour and as soon as the lumps are out it is ready for cooking. Have the skillet hot and keep it well greased. Drop the batter in and as soon as it is done on one side loosen it in the skillet and flip it over. Apple butter, syrup or cinnamon and sugar go well with the cakes.

While the crowd have taken the edge from their appetites with flapjacks the trout have been cooked and they and the bacon are ready to serve. The trout are crisp outside and firm and pink inside and the bacon is well done–but not too done. If there is anything better than that combination the writer has yet to taste it in a lifetime devoted largely and studiously to eating.

The stew kettle will cook your dried apricots when they have resumed their predried plumpness after a night of soaking, it will serve to concoct a mulligan in, and it will cook macaroni. When you are not using it, it should be boiling water for the dishes.

In the baker, mere man comes into his own, for he can make a pie that to his bush appetite will have it all over the product that mother used to make, like a tent. Men have always believed that there was something mysterious and difficult about making a pie. Here is a great secret. There is nothing to it. We’ve been kidded for years. Any man of average office intelligence can make at least as good a pie as his wife.

All there is to a pie is a cup and a half of flour, one-half teaspoonful of salt, one-half cup of lard and cold water. That will make pie crust that will bring tears of joy into your camping partner’s eyes.

Mix the salt with the flour, work the lard into the flour, make it up into a good workmanlike dough with cold water. Spread some flour on the back of a box or something flat, and pat the dough around a while. Then roll it out with whatever kind of round bottle you prefer. Put a little more lard on the surface of the sheet of dough and then slosh a little flour on and roll it up and then roll it out again with the bottle.

Cut out a piece of the rolled out dough big enough to line a pie tin. I like the kind with holes in the bottom. Then put in your dried apples that have soaked all night and been sweetened, or your apricots, or your blueberries, and then take another sheet of the dough and drape it gracefully over the top, soldering it down at the edges with your fingers. Cut a couple of slits in the top dough sheet and prick it a few times with a fork in an artistic manner.

Put it in the baker with a good slow fire for forty-five minutes and then take it out and if your pals are Frenchmen they will kiss you. The penalty for knowing how to cook is that the others will make you do all the cooking.

It is all right to talk about roughing it in the woods. But the real woodsman is the man who can be really comfortable in the bush.

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