I’m RJ, 26 years old, they/them lesbian. Leftist and fat liberationist. If you are under 18 or do not have your age easily visible on your blog I will block you. If you are 21 and under feel free to interact, but I will not follow back or engage in messaging with you.
I am not interested in being anyone’s feeder or encourager. If that is what you are looking for, please look elsewhere.
I do some writing when I have time and am currently working on "An Arrangement", an ongoing, multichapter, barely-sorta-regency-inspired mutual pining narrative about two women in an arranged marriage discovering their kinks. Very happy to receive feedback about it! All of my narrative work is under #rj writing.
Kink specifics under the cut- be warned that my interest can skew towards darker elements. If I follow you and you’d prefer I wouldn’t, just go ahead and block me.
Kinks you’ll see on this blog:
•Stuffing, including forcefeeding
•Weight gain, including extreme/immobility
•Mild health issues
•Burping
•Body worship
•”Soft” feedism/feedism as healing
•Praise
•Degradation/dehumanization/fat-shaming*
* I want to make explicit that when I talk about this it is in the context of mutually playing with and reclaiming damaging language in a kink space. I have zero tolerance for anti-fat bias, bigotry, or prejudice.
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Contains: Being disgustingly happy and in love, fat exercise, limited mobility, Very Big Devon, dominating your wife by batting your eyelashes to get whatever you want, struggling hard to do basic activities, sweat, teasing, domesticity update
Note: I can't believe I've written fifty pages of this story- that is the most I've ever worked on one narrative and genuinely would not have been possible without the feedback I've received from folks on this app. Although this is the last installment of the main narrative, I'm certain I'll be back to my beloved Devalie when inspiration strikes. Thank you so very sincerely to anyone who read, liked, reblogged, commented, or messaged! And for my anonymous friend- she's 600 here ;)
“This is… excessive… my love.”
“Nonsense,” Rosalie replied sweetly. “Was it not you who said you should maintain your mobility?” She patted Devon’s arm where it was linked with hers.
It was a warm day in early spring, and the courtyard of Daring Woods was shaded and fragrant. Only the birds nested in the fruit trees were there to observe their afternoon walk, a casual jaunt of a few laps around the enclosed area. Casual for Rosalie, at least.
Devon’s cheeks were pink from exertion, a few loose strands of hair stuck to her face with sweat. Although she was in the lightest clothing she could wear within decency, she was clearly overheated. Unsurprising, Rosalie thought, considering the bulk of her. Each pillowy bicep was as big around as Rosalie’s waist; the same with her thighs, just barely tapering into thick calves beneath which no ankle could be seen. Trying to slide her enormous legs past each other to walk must have been difficult enough, and that was without having to fight her sagging belly with every step. Her gut, protruding proudly ahead of her and large enough to enter each room before she did, now hung almost to her knees, swaying pendulously whenever she moved. Rosalie had tried to lift it before, just to feel its weight, and found it nearly impossible. She couldn’t fathom how Devon’s frame could support her size, especially strolling through the courtyard like this. But then, that was the game.
Devon tugged her in the direction of a lovely bench, reinforced, that they had installed earlier that year, after the untimely death of its predecessor. “I need to sit.” She panted. “Catch my breath.” She bent over, resting her hand on her knee.
“Oh, that won’t do.” Rosalie tutted, fluttering her lashes. “Come now. Once more around. Then we’ll sit.” She covered her grin with her hand at Devon’s appalled face. “I was perfectly content to have you a permanent fixture in our bed. Exercise was your fancy. I’m only making sure you see it through.” She took a step forward, pulling lightly on Devon’s arm, not that she could move the other woman with all her strength.
Devon swallowed hard, her pupils swallowing her blue irises. “Rosie, please. Please let me sit down.” Her voice was breaking into a whine.
Rosalie’s entire body went hot, struck like lighting with arousal. Her eyes raked over Devon’s debauched form, chest heaving with breath, leaning ever so slightly towards her, her eyes impossibly dark and deep and stormy.
“No.”
Slowly, Devon rose back to her full height, still fighting to regulate her breathing. Without further comment, she took one labored step forward. Then another. And another.
Rosalie beamed, smacking a kiss onto her cheek as a reward, and resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “You’ve made a very good choice, my darling.” Her voice trembled ever so faintly with overwhelmed arousal.
Devon grumbled, but leaned her head on Rosalie’s. She could feel her wife leaning on her with all of her might, lumbering back and forth, her enormous hip practically knocking her over with each step. Devon was certainly struggling more and more as the days went by. It seemed as though her plan to maintain some semblance of mobility was falling short, although her efforts had been honorable.
They turned, halfway through their final lap. Devon’s steps were becoming slower, more plodding, swaying heavily side to side. Rosalie slid her arm from where it was intertwined with her wife’s and attempted to wrap it around her back, providing the limited support she could with her much smaller frame. Devon’s next step ended with a huff; the next began with a grunt. Still, she faced determinedly forward, ever the obedient wife, who had grown so very well under Rosalie’s care. In the year since they had wed she had easily doubled in size, her growth picking up even further after they confessed their mutual affection. Devon spent most of her day grazing, working through plate after plate supplied by Rosalie as she continued work on her memoirs, which were very nearly fully drafted. Rosalie had been assured she would be the first to read them once they were complete.
Although Devon continued to prefer the comforts of home, she would occasionally join Rosalie on her various outings around town. She had quickly taken over running errands and had become friendly with the people there, including the tailor, who was teaching her more of his trade at her request. She had learned embroidery as a girl, but now was focused on the design and construction of garments; a necessary skill to support her ever-growing wife.
They had even managed to have the King and the Princess to dinner, their royal carriage disguised. Aster’s eyes had bulged out to see how large Devon had grown in only six months, by which Rosalie could tell Devon was both embarrassed and pleased. The King had only made a pleasant remark about what he called “relationship weight”, and that had been the end of it.
“So close, my love,” Rosalie assured the woman beside her, her hair entirely fallen from its neat bun. Devon only grunted, her eyes fixated on the bench a few meters away. Step after labored step, she heaved herself forward, her belly slapping audibly against her thighs as she did so. Rosalie rubbed her sweaty back comfortingly.
“Hah… can’t,” Devon gasped.
“You can, you can. We are so very close.” Rosalie attempted to pull her forward, obviously to no effect. But she kept moving, her darling wife, lumbering forward until finally she practically collapsed onto the bench, a massive hand on her chest as she caught her breath. Rosalie kissed her across her face, murmuring praises that kept the flush high on her cheeks, beyond satisfied with her performance. They sat together contentedly as Devon regulated her breathing and Rosalie helped to fix her hair.
“I believe we shall need to hire a few extra attendants soon.”
“What for?”
Rosalie glanced at Devon out of the corner of her eye. “I doubt I shall be able to bathe you myself for much longer. It is simply too time consuming.”
“Darling.” Devon complained. “I have no need for hired bathers. I’m not the King.”
Rosalie laughed. “You may not be the King, but I fear between the two of us we lack the hands necessary to properly clean and dry you.”
Devon sighed in a way that indicated the conversation was temporarily closed. “It’s been nearly a year since we wed, you know.”
“It has, hasn’t it? How much has changed, how quickly. How will we celebrate?”
Devon grinned mischievously. “I’ve been envisioning a very large cake.”
Rosalie smiled back. “Well, that would be for you. What shall I get out of it?”
“A very, very large wife?”
They leaned into each other, savoring the warm spring day. The rose bushes they had planted throughout the courtyard displayed their buds, preparing to bloom.
junk food butch. lazy, fast food-loving ex-jock butch. butch who drinks soda the way they used to down protein shakes and scarfs down greasy, salty meal deals they would never have touched before. butch absolutely spilling out of their old workout clothes, stretch-marked belly sagging out of their jersey, wobbly, dimpled thighs threatening the seams on their athletic shorts. completely domesticated greedy couch butch.
It is SUCH a turn off for me as a 300+ lb person when thin people in feedist spaces gain 30 lbs and post pics with a caption like “look how huge I am” and “I’m such a fat greedy piggy.” Like congrats on the gain, you look great, but you’re not fat and you’re not huge.
I have been SHOCKED by the level of responses I’ve gotten on this. I don’t have a lot of followers and I knew it was a hot take, but I didn’t realize it would be so hot. It’s been really interesting seeing how people respond on all sides, and I think a few of the negative responses were impacted by the fact that my final sentiments acknowledging the nuance were in the tags and likely missed by some people.
I have a lot of thoughts on this, most which I will keep to myself, but what I will say is that I was surprised by some of the assumptions made and the emotional intensity in those who disagreed. I know I got deep in the comments, and I truly believe there is a much more conversation to be had beyond the surface, but when I made the original post it really wasn’t that deep. I just posted about one of my turn offs thinking maybe a couple mutuals might agree. When this situation happens for me I just agree and move with the flow of the conversation, and at a certain point I’ll just disengage like I would anyone else I’m not compatible with. I never speak negatively to/about other feedist’s gain or bodies just because they don’t live up to my expectation surrounding the language they use, and I have no interest in policing other feedist’s language. This has been very eye opening to witness, and if you felt emotionally triggered by the original post or by any of the reblogs/comments I encourage you to reflect on why; I know I have.
OP I hope you don’t mind me adding my thoughts- this is a topic I also have some strong opinions about and reading some of the responses you received I feel a need to engage.
First of all if anyone hasn’t read OP’s replies to the original post: do that. Second of all, I think this phenomenon and the negative responses to the post are both symptomatic of the presence of thin or formerly-thin folks in this community who have yet to actually grasp the full experience of fatphobia and are not deconstructing the societal conditioning they’ve received around body image even as participants in the kink. The idea that you’re being some kind of kink police by saying this is so profoundly ignorant and irritating in the wider context of fatphobia as a societal issue and reveals the unfortunate fact that not everyone in this space is challenging their own internalized bias around being fat.
So to address the actual harm of people who are functionally thin describing how appallingly morbidly obese they are: this is not different than when your friend who is smaller than you starts complaining about how absolutely disgustingly fat she is, even though it’s intended in a “positive” way. It’s an indication that even in this fat-centric space, people in smaller bodies are not being cognizant of the need to consider the lived experiences of the very large. And although, yes, fantasy is a major element of the experience of gaining, and people are allowed to have pride in their gains, OP is also allowed to be icked when someone half their size is calling themselves a disgustingly large food addict. Even if it’s for sex reasons.
And the fact that people are reacting as though it’s you’re trying to take away their toys when you say this proves that they’re not thinking about kink as something that happens in the wider social context. Sorry folks, but you can’t take the kink out of the fatphobic society. So you need to work on extracting the fatphobia from the kink. And if you’re participating in this kink but not educating yourself on fatphobia, you’re a fucking loser.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted less than to immediately have my contacts pop up if I accidentally click on an image for longer than a fraction of a second
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
amazing that on thin people the belly is not an entity. you can put your hand flat on it but it’s really just the absence of a thing, a place where something should be but nothing is. and then it grows out enough to become its own object, something malleable and handleable, a real distinct body part.
