Fatten Me Until I Don’t Recognize Myself

Hi! I'm All Fattened Up — a guy who led a fit, creative, vibrant and social lifestyle, but I had a secret: The only thing that turned me on was fantasizing about becoming fat.

My vanity wouldn't let me pursue it, until eventually I gave myself permission to just try gaining 20 pounds. Just to get it out of my system. I planned to lose it right away. But as soon as I started getting plump, the ground gave out beneath me and I've been sliding down that thrilling, embarrassing, terrifying slippery slope ever since.

I couldn't stop.

And now I don't want to.

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Hahahhahhahhaha 😂😂

“Lying for attention is unhinged” says the person telling a lie for attention. Next time just say you have no idea what AI looks like and jog on.

Your surrender to gluttony is equal parts inspirational and utterly shocking... I get a huge thrill watching as your ludicrously thick fat spills out from every angle, captured so well with your impressive camera work and editing...

The way you write about your descent into intense greed, and your skyrocketing into sheer pleasure, is masterful as well, as are your stories...

Something about you makes it feel like you're not just a fat guy - you are the literal physical embodiment of fat itself, and everything the word implies 🥵

Keep up the good work 😘

It wasn’t really that I was in denial. I guess I was in a few ways, but not about what I was doing to myself. It was all very intentional and I was extremely aware of every change my body went through. But I guess there was denial about how far I was really taking this, how serious this was getting, how non-temporary it really was. But no it wasn’t even really denial, that still doesn’t feel like the right word. I was just completely swept away. It’s like I was so drunk on the pleasure, the shame, the surreal experience, that I let myself do things I never thought I actually would. Kind of like you do in a dream. If things feel surreal enough you can convince yourself there are no real consequences, if that's what it takes to keep getting those hits of pleasure which override every other need, even the need to experience reality as you know it to be. I'm aware this is getting very cerebral 😂 I've never been able to truly capture this experience in the exact right words but that won't stop me from trying. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the mind will do crazy things to enable a great enough need. Finally acting on a lifelong fantasy, I knew what would happen if I thought about it too hard, so I kept myself in that intoxicated hazy whirlwind. I lied to myself - blatant, obvious lies like ‘yeah but you’re not actually doing this, not really’. I had this safety-net idea in my mind where I clung to the thought I could lose the weight. Even when I literally couldn't imagine stopping, it was still 'technically' reversible, which was all the permission I needed to play in the quicksand. But it still wasn't really denial because I knew I was lying to myself, and the purpose that served. I was willing to be complicit in it for the payoff of this insane mind melting fantasy finally coming to life. I spent a lot of time balanced intentionally in a precarious mental space where I had to be just aware enough to experience it all but never quite aware enough to stop myself.

How long has it been since you lifted anything heavier than a food-laden fork? Since you ran any distance? Since you jumped? Touched your toes?

It's been a while, huh?

See, you still see yourself as a fit guy that made yourself fat. Something you can tell yourself is only temporary when you decide to finally lose the weight. Someone who definitely still remembers what a proper workout routine looks like.

But by now, you've been fat for

So.

Long.

And that's not something you can just change. How much of your adult life were you effortlessly fit? How much of your adulthood has been spent squeezing into too tight gym clothes and drinking hundreds of extra calories every day? Only one of those numbers is still going up, big guy.

Do you even remember the proper form, technique? Do you remember how many calories you're actually supposed to be eating every day - do you remember how to each only that amount of calories every day?

And it's not just you. By this point, you've probably met so many people who only know you as a chub whose belly enters a room before they do. And I'll guess that by now, a lot of your friends and family who knew what you used to be have given up on trying to get you to lose the weight. Why waste their time, right? And that's only if they haven't let time mess with them - Maybe he wasn't as slim as I remember - after all, he's so big...

All that to say - enjoy your time as a big boy, because the longer you spend fat, the less likely that'll ever change.

Tick, Tock, big guy

Oh dear... is that all me? 😳🥵🫣😭🫦😫🥵

I can hardly explain how plush I feel like this. Everything is just large - puffed out soft and jiggling. Even the parts of me that aren't as well-plumped yet, like my arms, still give me that constant feedback: you're big. you're soft. you big fat, soft fat, plumped up fucking obese pig, just look at the fucking state you've got yourself in. 🥵😫

That would be a sample of what it's like inside my mind these days. Always hot and buzzing, melting, like tarmac on a sizzling roadway. I'm heavy now. I'm plush. I look at my old pictures, scrolling all the way back to the top of my camera roll and swipe through the tight aesthetic mirror selfies, the good-looking smiles in a fortunate face. It's a dangerous game - I might actually make myself nauseous with regret. It's hard to find the line between not enough and too much while I'm pushing the stimulus, heaping my plate with as much 'ooohh god what have I done?' as I can devour, and if I'm not careful I might overshoot it completely. Occasionally, my habit of flirting with hot, heavy dismay can tip into clarity, and clarity is sharp. Too sharp. When it comes, it comes sudden. Usually unexpected. It's a game until it's not, and then I'm sitting too closely to the core of this delicious experiment, the clear and brutal air in the eye of the storm. I'm drenched with a sudden violent yearning to be that man again, to have never done this to myself, and the wish is horrible in its impossibility. I think of the transformation I put on for everyone around me, what they must have seen, what they must have thought of me. I shift in my seat, feeling my belly slip low, my rolls jiggle, how heavy I am now. I look down at my fat body - the large, straining stomach and the cellulite-packed thighs exploding in enormous wobbling puffs from the leg-holes of savagely tight underwear. It hits different. I'm horrified.

New belly check in featuring huge thighs 🥵

Dream body/nightmare body coming along nicely 🥵😫

Grow a belly, they said. It'll drive you entirely mad with a very specific kind of obsessive lust, they said.