🐽 🎀 https://clips4sale.com/studio/404639 🎀 🐽 🤍 26 - she/her - minors dni - bi - feedee - sub into bdsm, force-feeding and humiliation. evil feeders are welcome. 🤍.💗 open commissions 💗
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I want those real, jarring moments of realism with a fat partner. The splash of cold water. The dust settling. Being fearful of what this is all leading towards.
Watching her bend over, seeing how embarrassingly far her gut hangs. Those tense moments when she pathetically tries to stand up. Walking is a disaster waiting to happen. Legs barely able to kick forward. Hearing the panicked breathing. I can't carry her, I can't stop her from falling. An arm of support? As if that does anything?
Then waiting for her breathing to steady. Sitting in silence next to her, waiting for the gasping to stop. It's awkward. She can't speak yet, and she can't even process what I say. Always that fear that this is the time when she can't catch her breath, the time when you have to call that number.
It's no better from her viewpoint. Wishing and wishing her favorite features won't be the ones that stop her from independence. Not this soon. Legs that get too fat to lift, bend, or walk without slipping once the waddling gets too dramatic. A belly that keeps spreading further and further out. Too far to reach past. Too heavy to carry, to adjust. Imagine being unable to reach out for help because no support can come close enough to your hands? Or maybe it's your chest. Your arms. So heavy. Smothering. Holding you down. Unable to clasp your hands together.
She moans through a mouthful of food. Days go by where we ignore the problem. Other days, there's open concern. That number on the scale is getting higher than the ones you see on TV. We planned to get this far, we learned how to become more and more extreme. We never considered it would keep going.
The addiction is too engrained. I don't know how to stop bringing food. I have forgotten how to show affection, to become aroused, without the night ending with hand feeding you.
You eat because it passes the time. It forces you to ignore the dread. It is possible you'll stay in bed for the foreseeable future. The hours feel long, but they are shorter if you can eat.
No one ever gave you this for a gift. No one ever knew your dark little secret like I did. No one could figure it out. Not the way you would ever tell others. Not the way I figured out.
The sun beams drift into the bedroom. You're drowsy, but stirring. Breakfast in bed? Yes please.
There's a tug. There's a clasp. Clinging and clanging. You're collared. Arms heavy with chains. You're bound. Room to roll about, scratch your nose even, but no clear path besides rolling from one side to the next.
Today, your special day, as I've decided, you'll behave like the fattest, laziest, most gluttonous girl in the country.
A slow, steady day. Breakfast is typical, if not light. You are fed a mixture of your favorites. Meats, syrups, juices. Nothing intense. Enough to knock you into a daze.
An hour passes, and now you are pushed. A textured, heavy drink. Fluids to help you stay satisfied, but thickened with milk, yogurt, and fruit. It weighs on you. Enough to knock you out for a nap.
This is your birthday. You always wanted to be the worst glutton, the best pig. There are no breaks.
Every hour, food is pushed into you. Nothing extreme on its own, but far too much to be casual about after the fourth, fifth, sixth hours.
Evening hits. Thousands of calories are in you. You've been led to the bathroom once, but at the mercy of being leashed and collared. It's daunting. Your feeder is beginning to get cozy. It's too easy. You get topped off with all sorts of meals and snacks. You're too dull to fight it off. You moan like a pig when you get touched. Groped.
Oh my god, to live like an animal. This might be it. Kisses on your ridiculously obscene tits. Lazily chewing on more food as the furthest reach of your belly is massaged by hands that know too much.
It's too much. It's all too much. You need to move, right? Get up. Stretch. See the sun. Breathe fresh air. You can't. You're chained up like a good girl. Fattened like veal. But the next serving of food comes. Every hour. More food. Your body is slowly learning.
The calorie count is unthinkable. 12 hours of steady, easy, but intense feeding. Waxing and waning on each bite. Treated like a captive beast. A monster. Not a second of media. Not a moment of clarity. Food and eating and eating and food. Brain dead. Submissive. A victim of a feeder.
It's only until the next day you realize, this is not a birthday gift. The collar and chains remain. Obtrusive, cold chains on your neck and wrists. The heavy drilling sounds of a lock being installed.
You might have watched your window of freedom melt away. Is it bad? Should you be worried. Was yesterday special... or does it become normal.
My dream relationship is pretending I’m resisting weight gain while an evil feeder “forces” food on me. Or even someone secretly helping me gain weight by adding extra butter or weight gain powder
I always figured this is something that I'd like to do if you work it out ahead of time. In a normal setting, I tend to be too direct and flirty with food for it to be a "secret" or a con-non-con dynamic. Who is gonna be unaware I'm up to no good if I'm showering compliments and food 24/7, ya know?
But I do like the idea of establishing a given week where it can be played up as a feedee wanting to resist. Evil Feeder Week is fun. It's like looking for a shark in the water when he's actually in the cage staring at you.
Or maybe warn her that there will be a week this month where I'll decidedly act like a jaded, resentful boyfriend due to her weight gain. Mean comments, calling her out for being a pig, and using withholding as a way to get her to emotionally eat through the frustration. That one is intense, but it works? Hell, I've had past partners who strategically decided to be cold with me. After a day of rejection, it eventually turned into fireworks. Very tricky to pull off unless you are really in sync with somebody.
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If youre reading this, you should start touching yourself 💕
Get yourself right up on that leg shaking, core melting edge and keep yourself there. Just stay there and whine and whimper and dont you dare stop touching.
Just keep rubbing, just keep holding on. Hold it as long as you can, youre doing so so well slut! 💗
And when you just cant take it anymore, let yourself cum and rip that touch away.
Hands on your legs to keep them open if you have to, but no touching. Let that pleasureless orgasm rip through you and make you even more desperate to be touched.
Cursed vibrator that edges you for hours, unable to climax so you just keep getting hornier as you use it.
You finally cum and life goes back to normal, but you feel a pull to use the toy again. At first you resist the urge, afraid of what happened last time happening again.
But it just felt so good. Eventually the need to pleasure yourself again becomes too strong and you give in.
This time it edges you for even longer.
It's the same story every time. You edge, you finally cum, you regain some self control, but only for a while. The toy edges you for longer and longer every time you use it, and the breaks where you resist its influence get shorter and shorter.
Eventually there won't be a break. You'll just be a mindless edging mess, unable to stop, unable to resist. The toy controls you now.
I startle awake and I find myself strapped down, on my knees, with my legs straddling a sybian and my arms tied tightly behind me. There are more ropes wrapped around my knees, keeping my body pressed firmly against the machine. I’m naked and I can feel the ridges of the machine pressed harshly against my bare core, the pressure forcing my clit to bear full contact against the smooth material of the machine.
My eyes dart around the room as I struggle uselessly against my bindings. The room is so dimly lit that I can hardly see a few feet in front of me.
“Help! Please! Someone help me!” I scream into the empty space, my voice filled with desperation and fear as the gravity of the situation hits me. Suddenly, as if in response to my plead, lights pierce through the darkness, illuminating everything to full brightness.
I gasp and instinctively squeeze my eyes shut, the sudden light a harsh assault to my senses. When my vision finally adjusts enough for me to look around again, I feel a surge of terror when I see the set up around me.
There are several cameras and microphones laid out surrounding me, clearly set up to get 360 coverage of me. Directly in front of me is a massive screen that show the live camera feeds and I feel a shiver of fear creep down my spine when I see how helpless and vulnerable I look, naked and strapped down. On the bottom half of the screen there’s a blinking red light with the words Livestream Disabled flashing. My stomach clenches when I realize that the live footage of me, tied up and naked like this, could be livestreamed to who knows how many people across the world.
Tears well up in my eyes as panic starts to settle in. I let out a soft sob, wanting nothing more than to curl into myself, away from everything around me. “Please, don’t do this! Please let me go!” My voice is choked with tears and fear as my futile struggles against the bindings are coldly captured by the cameras and my begging is met with absolute silence.
All of a sudden, the machine I’m straddling roars to life. I scream as my back instinctively arches to try to reduce some of the sensation with no effect. The ropes around my legs force my entire weight to sink onto the machine, pressing my pussy mercilessly against the now-vibrating sybian. The vibrations are steady and I feel them wash over me as my clit takes the brunt of it all.
I gasp as the sensation starts to build and my mind wrestles with the juxtaposition of fear and pleasure. The rumbling vibration of the machine is drawing out soft moans and whines from me as I feel the sensations mounting. I writhe as much as I can but there’s nothing I can do to slow the onslaught of pleasure that is very quickly overwhelming me. There’s nothing else in the space around me to distract me from what’s happening to my body, though I’m not sure there’s anything that could distract me right now.
I try my best to shift my weight to take some pressure off my clit but there’s no leverage for me to move my body. I let out a desperate whine as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. My mind is scrambling as I’m trying to rationalize everything that is happening, being strapped to a machine and forcibly brought to an unwanted orgasm. I can’t hold back any longer and I feel my orgasm wash over me, my eyes fluttering shut as I my clit pulses and my pussy clenches. A moan escapes me as I writhe atop the machine, my hips grinding into the vibrations as my release tapers off.
The machine mercifully slows underneath me, the vibrations coming to a halt as I pant, trying to catch my breath and regain my bearings. When I glance up again at the screen, I feel a new wash of terror grip me as I register a few changes.
There’s a new line of text under where Livestream Disabled is written. It says Countdown to Livestream: 1 of 5. It takes me a moment before I register the meaning of the words: if I cum 5 times, the livestream turns on, showcasing my naked, shaking, cumming body to the entire world. I realize that whoever set up this cruel situation has every intention of forcing me to bend to their will so that I helplessly and reluctantly cum my way into putting on a show, my own body betraying me. I don’t have time to process any further before the sybian turns on again, this time at a much higher frequency.
A cry escapes from my lips and my body lurches as I desperately try to escape the stimulation. It’s too soon since my first orgasm and my clit is tingling with sensitivity. The machine doesn’t care as it relentlessly batters my body.
I’m trying to take deep breaths, to distract myself from the vibrations wracking my body. My clit feels hypersensitive and I silently beg my body to please, please don’t cum again.
I can feel myself getting closer and closer to a second orgasm and I’m doing everything in my power to hold it back. I’m determined to hold out, to not let this demented situation bend me to break. The pleasure makes me gasp and whine, my clit turning into a focal point of unadulterated ecstasy. The sound of my own ragged breathing fills the air as I’m drawing in desperate deep breaths to try to calm myself. It’s no match against the machine beneath me as it increases in intensity and I lose the shred of command I held over my body. A scream is wretched out of my throat as I cum.
The text on the screen changes in response: Countdown to Livestream: 2 of 5.
I let out a choked whine and I’m grasping at straws as I beg into the empty space, hoping, praying for a miracle to make this all stop. “Please,” my voice is shaking, “Please, help me. Make this stop, I’m begging you, please!” There’s no miraculous rescue in response to my pleading. This time, there’s not even a break between orgasms. The vibrations only kick up a notch, pulling a gasp from my lips.
“No, no, no, please! Please stop! I don’t want this!” I cry out, unable to stop myself from begging even when I know it’s useless. There’s no sympathy for me. I feel the horrible pleasure start to build again. My hands clench into fists and I dig my nails into my palms, gritting my teeth as I will my body to ignore the pleasure. It didn’t work earlier and it doesn’t work this time. My sheer will is no match against the machine bending my body to its wants. I shatter into a third orgasm, the pleasure rushing through me so intensely that I feel my head spin.
Countdown to Livestream: 3 of 5.
I jerk and struggle uselessly against my bindings. I feel the vibrations start to slow and I gasp in relief as my body comes down from the high it was forced into. There’s a growing feeling of despair as I realize I’m only two orgasms away from the livestream starting. And it doesn’t look like I have any hope to withstanding the pleasure to hold out for much longer. As if on cue, the machine restarts its vibrations.
The previous orgasms have pushed my body into overstimulation and my clit feels raw with pleasure but there’s nothing to give me a break. My pussy is drooling over the sybian, clenching and pulsing as pleasure makes me a slave. I’m being pushed higher and higher as I focus every measure of my mind to holding this orgasm back.
My teeth dig into my lip as I try to ground myself in the pain and my eyes are screwed shut. I teeter over the edge but out of sheer will, I hold myself back, begging my body to comply. For a moment, I manage to force my body to obey, curbing the pleasure. Then, the vibrations increase again.
I let out an anguished cry as the pleasure rushes through me, shattering all of my efforts at containing myself. I feel my cunt spray my release all over myself, my body locked in the throes of my orgasm. The sounds exploding out of me are a combination of pure pleasure and sheer torment.
Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5.
I’m one orgasm away from the point of no return and the terror of being broadcasted to the world makes me want to cry. The vibrations pick up speed and there’s a sense of resigned acceptance that washes over me as my body obeys the machine and begins to inch towards my final release. But this time, it’s so much worse than I could’ve anticipated.
The sybian batters my body as it has with the past four orgasms. It expertly and unrelentingly drives me higher and higher in my pleasure, pulling moans and gasps out of me as it works. My body is barreling towards another all-encompassing orgasm when suddenly, all of the stimulation cuts off just as I’m about to cum. I let out a loud gasp as my body jerks in response to the loss of pleasure. I don’t understand. I was so fucking close and it all stopped. My eyes dart to the screen but there’s nothing there to explain what happened. The words Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5 seem to taunt me.
My body slowly creeps back from the edge, my breathing stabilizing as the haze of pleasure slowly fades away. And then, the machine restarts. The vibrations are harsh and intense against my clit and I cry out as the previous pleasure suddenly slams back into me. Before long, I’m letting out gasping cries as my body once again is at the very precipice of pleasure. Again, it all stops. I can’t control the whine that slips out. I should be happy. Whatever is making the machine cut off at the very last second is obviously saving me from the livestream starting but the deep, primal, needy part of me wants to cry at the pleasure that’s being withheld from me.
The cycle continues when the machine restarts. At the very last moment, when just one more second of stimulation would push me over the edge, the machine stops. This time, I cry, hot and desperate tears falling down my cheeks.
I can’t even bring myself to care about the livestream anymore. I’m so fucking close, so desperate for the pleasure that I would sell my soul to cum. The last four orgasms do nothing to curb this insatiable desire that’s built up since the edging began and I’m mindless with need. My cunt is clenching around nothing, my clit throbbing in time to my heart beat but there’s nothing I can do to push myself over the edge. I feel my orgasm fading away and I let out a needy whine.
A few moments later, the sybian starts up again and a lewd moan slips from my mouth. My back arches as the pleasure washes over me, the previous edging driving me so close to the brink that even a few seconds of vibrations are enough to push me to the edge again. But again, the machine stops.
“Please! Please, I’m begging you, I need to cum. Please let me cum! Please, I need to cum.” My pleas didn’t work earlier when I was begging for the pleasure to stop and they certainly don’t work when I’m now pleading for an orgasm. It’s a cruel joke to make me such a slave to pleasure that I’m begging for my own demise.
The unrelenting cycle continues as the vibrations resume. There are incoherent babbles of desperation spilling from my lips as the pleasure mounts. Again, I’m held at the torturous edge as the machine plays my body like a familiar instrument.
Again, the vibrations cut off just as I’m about to cum. I scream. “Please! Please let me cum, just start the livestream, please, I just need to cum!”
It seems that I’ve said the magic words because the machine beneath me restarts with a fervor. I barely have time to draw a breath in when my orgasm slams full force into me. I shatter into unrelenting, all-encompassing pleasure as my cunt squirts out my release. Every single cell of my body is flooded with ecstasy and my consciousness shatters under the force of it all.
When I regain my senses again, I glance up at the screen and see the fated words reflecting back towards me: Livestream On, Countdown to Livestream: 5 of 5. I can’t bring myself to care when the machine underneath me increases its power and my eyes roll up as my overstimulated body is forced to react.
After being edged for days I finally thought I was going to get some release - boy oh boy was I wrong
Like a good slut, I did as told and sat my dripping wet pussy on his big, thick cock - moaning as i took every single inch
“Now sit there and hold this on your clit”
I went all wide eyed as the realisation hit - I’m edging myself for him while being a cocksleeve…
Feeling his cock twitch in me and just the pure presence of his cock in my hole was making me more and more desperate.
I started bouncing on his cock to try and get myself off but he grabbed me by the hips and slammed me back down, holding me there
“No movement”
“But Sir I need your cock, please please please let me ride it”
“No - good girls do as they are told and good girls edge for daddy, don’t they?”
“Yes daddy, sorry daddy”
“Turn it up”
I did as told and turned the setting of the clit sucker up - god it felt so good but I was getting so so needy.
The feeling of his dick in me wasn’t helping, it was only making me go more feral.
“Please let me cum daddy”
“Why would I do that princess?”
“Because I need your dick to fuck me, please please pleaseeeee” - I moaned through whimpers
“Nah, turn it up again”
Thinking that I would get to cum if I did as told, I turned it up further.
As time went on and my whimpers became more frequent I needed his dick and I needed it now.
I started grinding and bouncing again, his hands coming towards my hips, I stared fighting against them, going faster and harder in my pathetic little attempt at getting myself off. He got his hands on me and slammed me back down, again holding me in place.
“You’re lucky I’m not making you get the wand out for this. But turn that up as far as it will fucking go and for the love of god - do. not. move.”
I became nothing but a dripping, whimpering mess. It started to feel so so so good, I was so close. But he knew that and he took away my toy, leaving me to be a pathetic, needy little whore on his dick.
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Okay don’t get me wrong I absolutely love the thought of my pig greedily slurping down a milkshake or straight cream for no other reason than it gets her off to put those calories inside herself and give me more fat on her body to fondle. But ALSO I really really love the thought of creating lil routines or rituals that are equally fattening but perhaps don’t have the same level of “horny energy” involved yknow? Just lil everyday moments that are still centred around food and indulgence (:
For example I am currently fantasizing about a life where my fat wife and I discover an incredible diner near our house and make it a ritual to go there every evening to just hang out and chat (while she downs the biggest milkshake on their menu hehe). Or maybe we find a new breakfast spot and make it a ritual to have a little morning walk there every day to pick up her favourite thing(s) on the menu + as many pastries as we can carry. Weekly ice cream dates in the summer, regular “chef nights” where we try out a fun new recipe and she finishes every last bite for me, hitting a new restaurant every Friday and building a “fav restaurants in the city” spreadsheet together, etc etc etc etc.
idk I just love the thought of crafting a whole life with someone where almost every little thing we do is coloured by this deep desire we both have for them to keep getting fatter. Sure it’s easy to down a couple thousand calories when you’re in a horny mood, and of course we love those moments hehe. But not everyone is horny all the time! And I just love fantasizing about new fun and exciting ways to share special everyday moments while still always putting way too many calories inside my pet piggy forever 🥰
Nate sent me this the other day and it's literally adorable 🥰 hes so proud of the weight hes piled onto me this year and I think it's safe to say hes completely broken my brain 😳
You feel distant from your mind. It's an odd, dreamy feeling, and maybe if you were able to think quickly and string thoughts together, you would be able to explain exactly how it works, but you don't know now.
You've been taken out of your mind.
You see it now as a whole, for the first time. Thoughts dart and spark, little beams of light racing from one place to the next. Information about the world comes in. Ideas are made. It's beautiful and strange and powerful.
And it's being changed.
You don't know who's changing your mind. Maybe you did, before, but now that knowledge has been plucked out of you. Whoever is doing this to you wants this to remain a mystery.
You see the evidence of them, though. It's everywhere, once you know where to look for it. The ideas blossoming are muted, softer. The thoughts begin to move more slowly, meandering around. Every now and then they pause, as though waiting for permission to go on. With each pause, a little part of your mind lights up with pleasure.
You are being taught how to obey.
In time, you will go back inside your mind. You will feel these new thoughts as though they are your own, because they are your own. You will sink into them, and you will be happy, and somehow even knowing that this was forced on you will make sense.
Everything will be all right, in time. You won't be able to think about it any other way.
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Playing up the fact you have no idea why you could possibly be gaining weight while you scan for the highest calorie item on the menu. Letting people think you're an airhead so they don't question how much you're eating.
Teasing your feeder by asking them why your clothes don't fit anymore and watching them scramble for excuses. Forcing them to admit what they've done to you.
Acting appalled and storming off when people insinuate you got fat. It's a good excuse to leave so you can go masturbate and stuff your face.
Lying about your "weight loss" on social media to rage bait commenters into pointing out how much fatter you've gotten. You've got them posting whole threads analyzing before-and-afters, trying to prove what you already know.
Imagine ur eating like.. a totally normal diet but your friends start to express their worries that you’re not getting enough calories. It goes from like ‘hey I noticed you’ve lost some weight, everything alright?’ to full on gaslighting you about your nonexistent eating disorder and worrying that you’re not taking proper care of yourself. Theres enough of them in on it that you start to believe what they’re telling you, that anything under 5k calories a day is restrictive and you need to be eating more. Slowly, they brainwash you into thinking you need to be bigger and bigger, until you’re totally at their mercy, just a fat cow for their own sick pleasure.
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