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I can't stop thinking about you, about that big, fat belly of yours spilling over the steering wheel and jiggling with every mile we drive. Watching you shift gears, feeling the truck rumble beneath us—it gets me so worked up, imagining how much bigger you could be, how much softer, heavier, greedier. Every night in the sleeper, I touch myself to the thought of you, picturing you stuffed full, your belly round and tight from everything I'd feed you. I want to be the one who keeps you growing, keeps you satisfied in every way. Feeding you, teasing you, worshipping every inch of your blubbery body while we burn through endless miles together. I want you to be my big, fat boyfriend—the soft, overfed trucker I’ve always dreamed about.