Ever wonder if you’ve got what it takes to be a real-life fatty… the ultimate hog? Well, look no further than my Gaining Academy. A highly accredited program targeted at making you the fattest version of yourself, all while building curves, blubber, and more softness than you ever imagined.
In this program, you’ll get a customized treatment plan depending on your starting point. Chubby but want to get downright obese? There’s a plan for that. Maybe you just want a little extra fluff? We’ve got that too. We even have a special track for those ready to fully give in and leave their life in the gym behind.
Whatever your size or your reason for exploring gaining, there’s something here for everyone. So stop playing around and fulfill your true fatty destiny. Expand those waistlines, soften those chins, and start maximizing your gains.
Consider this your official acceptance letter… hope you’re ready to outgrow it. Don’t believe I’ve got what it takes to plump you up? Just look at my curves. The proof is in my curves!
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Freya's Summer Gaining Camp ☀️
It's summer, the perpetual season of abundance. The season when everything blooms, when the harvest grows in preparation for the next winter, and when life seems to invite you to indulge a little more than usual. It's the perfect time to focus on growth, and that's exactly what I plan on doing to you. Or maybe with you. We're getting your body ready for winter, piggy, embracing abundance in every sense of the word and seeing just how much you can grow.
We're going to start with a daily calorie goal that's just a little outside your comfort zone. Nothing impossible, just enough to push you. Then, little by little, we'll raise the bar until, by the end of summer, I want you aiming for 5,000 calories a day. Trust the process. Trust my plan. By the time the weather cools down, you'll be a proper little butterball, softer, rounder, and carrying all the evidence of a season well spent.
And don't worry, I know all the little tricks. There are so many easy ways to sneak extra calories into your day if you know what you're doing. Consider me proof that a little indulgence goes a long way. That doesn't mean it'll all be easy, though. Growing takes work, piggy. It takes commitment. You have to push yourself sometimes, and that's exactly what you signed up for.
After all, when you decided you wanted to be my piggy, you weren't looking for someone to hold you back. You wanted a feeder, a nurturer, someone to encourage you and push you toward the version of yourself you wanted to become. This was your choice, not mine. I'm just here to make sure you see it through.
So get ready for a summer of gains. A summer of abundance, comfort, and letting yourself enjoy every little pleasure that comes your way. Soft bodies are beautiful in their own right, all that plush, jiggly softness just begging to be appreciated. Being fat isn't for everyone, but I think it's perfect for us, my wonderfully rotund little pig.
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Fair warning, for a feeder you would be surprised how easily ragebaited I am by bratty fattys. Like if you ever respond to me with “make me” or “what are you gonna do about it” I WILL proceed to have you over eat and cum over and over again until there is tears in your eyes. I WILL taunt and mock you for testing me as you struggle to respond through each bite I shove down your throat. I WILL ingrain my dominance into your head through an over abundance of pleasure and food to the point it makes you dizzy and sick. I am a kind chill person but that doesn’t mean I can’t be crueler then you could imagine. Especially when you’re practically begging for it through your actions
A good piggy is a lazy piggy, so let’s all remember to spend plenty of time on the couch! I know in the beginning it might be hard to stay on the couch all day, but after a few weeks of denying yourself a walk around the neighborhood or a trip to the gym in exchange for the coziest spot in the house, you’ll forget all about exercise in no time!
Just like an athlete, it’s smart to prepare yourself for couch training, but instead of stretches we’ll be gathering supplies to keep us happy, comfy, and fed all day! Remember, when we’re prepared, we don’t have to get up!
Some handy piggy supplies might include your favorite blanket, some nice stretchy pajama pants for when you’ve been snacking, a nice big drink that you won’t have to refill, and of course, enough snacks to last you at least 3 hours! If you’re like me and you like variety, go ahead and bring everything you might want to eat into your piggy pad with you so that you don’t have to get up when you inevitably get hungry for it!
When it comes to couch training, lazy piggies shouldn’t look to accomplish much, but here are some activities to help keep you sedentary! There’s always tv to provide hours and hours of mind numbing entertainment, but don’t forget about movies, feedee podcasts, or even audio books! Having to actually read books might be hard for the lazier piggy, so don’t feel like you need to challenge yourself with any of those! Playing video games, scrolling TikTok, or watching dirty videos are other great options! Doing things that don’t require a lot of brain power is key!
Another good activity for couch piggies is playing with yourself, stuffing, or sexting/facetiming your feeder! If your feeder is home with you, you can always incorporate feedings into couch training, too, as a reward or incentive to not get up!
When you’ve thoroughly exhausted yourself by sitting on your ass and eating all day, it might be time for a much deserved nap! Couch training should include frequent naps so that the piggy doesn’t get too tired to eat!
If the piggy ever gets sore or feels the need to stretch after sitting for so long, try taking some pain meds and massaging your fat rather than getting up! If your feeder is home, ask them to rub you down to help with the soreness. There are also plenty of stretches piggies can do while remaining seated! You know you don’t really want to get up, so don’t!
After a few weeks of couch training, lazy piggies should notice that they’re sitting on the couch for at least 4 hours a day, but optimally 8 or 9 if you work from home! With any luck after a few months, your hips will be bigger than the couch cushions and you’ll be too fat to even consider getting up anymore!
You two weren't dating, and it wasn't a cute, hopeful-but-tentative-not-dating-but-maybe-dating-soon, it was something you didn't like to think about. She wanted you to feed you, clearly. The funnel sticky with weight gain shake and your distended potbelly attested to that. But you knew that she didn't want to be more with you, and you knew you were never going to know why.
She started off as a blank profile picture that you bothered to reply to for some reason, even though it was nameless and faceless, and, surprisingly, there was good conversation behind it--funny, smart, charming stuff that drew you in deeper than "ur gonna get so fat" ever could. And it turned out she was kind of local, so a few weeks later, there you were, driving up to some rural bar she swore had good food. The food was fine, and so was the date--just fine. She seemed nervous for some reason, alternating between watching enraptured at every bite that moved from your plate to your lips and starting every time someone a waitress walked by. But then when you walked back to your cars, she pushed you against yours,
leaned in close, and shoved a piece of chocolate in your mouth with a desperate look in her eyes, then another piece, then another, and her lips were on yours and then you were in her car going to a drive-through. She fed you two burgers, some fries, and finally poured the milkshake into your mouth, holding it to your lips until you finished it as you burped and tried to pull away, more stuffed than you'd ever been, your small belly pushing out over your tight shorts.
You met her every so often after that, and talked most days, but she never really let you know about her, her personal life a vague sketch she kept vague. She was interested in making you fatter, and that's what she did, buying meals for you on the condition you recorded yourself eating them, and you grew, your belly softening and rounding and widening, the sharp jawline you'd always got complimented on swallowed by the soft tide of your own greed. You stopped asking her about personal stuff, eventually, and when you did she got warmer, feeding you more, responding faster in dirty talk, calling you her "pet pig." And when you met her, there was no pretense at conversation. You went to the restaurant or hotel room, exchanged niceties, and she fed you. Always, she fed you more food, heavier food, and faster. You wondered if she had a boyfriend and you were her little lesbian experiment and then just stopped caring about it. It wasn't what you wanted, but it was what you had, and it's not like people were beating down you door to feed you.
One day after stuffing you, she gave you a box, an unopened Amazon package with the address label torn off. Inside was a scale.
"I was thinking, I kind of want to do more with you," and hope soared in your heart. "I'll link this scale to my phone, so when you weigh yourself, I'll see it. And I made you this." She passed you a binder, and inside were a list of meals and recipes, all of them dated, starting tomorrow. "You can eat a lot even now, but you could eat even more with a little training, and then I can really put the weight on you."
"Training," you said, "like I'm an athlete on a regimen."
Weirdly enough, it didn't make you outright heavier at first. It was a lot of grains, a lot of fiber, a lot of water and seltzer, and you started actually feeling hungry even though you were bloated all the time. It went on like that for a week, lots of broccoli and water chugs and chicken, and then the recipes changed. Cream was in everything, lots of Kraft made with heavy cream and bacon specifically as a right-before-bed-meal, but also in scrambled eggs and in protein shakes, and you ballooned. It was intoxicating, feeling yourself ballooning like that, the indescribably hot feeling of getting fatter by the second as you sat there, letting yourself go bite by bite.
And then she cancelled your next meeting, but mailed you a binder without a return address, with your fattening schedule. And she cancelled the next one as your breath got short, as you outgrew clothes, as the casual acquaintances all started treating you weird. Not worse, really, but. . . some took you less seriously, some seemed concerned and would mention their diets a lot more, and some, especially men seemed to just start kind of ignoring you. You weren't the serious consultant anymore; you were the one that needed to hit the gym and get clean, or at least buy new clothes, for God's sake. Little did they know it was for a woman who seemed like she was trying to avoid you.
But finally, she did agree to meet you again. You wore something intentional, the blue dress you'd worn when you first met her, now obscenely tight and too short to wear anywhere but to see her, your belly pressing hard and the indent of your bellybutton like the pupil of a demanding eye.
It was quiet when you got into the hotel room, a little suite with a kitchen. She was wearing a long dress with buttons from the neck to the hem, leaning against the counter, and her eyes flew to you as soon as you walked in. You could feel her picking out every detail, the faint beginnings of a third chin, the roll of fat under your arms, the globe of your perpetually stuffed gut staring at her as you looked at her expectantly.
She said nothing, working the buttons on her dress down one by one, motioning with her head to the fridge. A sheet cake sat inside in the clean sterility of the barely-used fridge, the only food in there. On top of it sat a harness with a modest, black dildo in it. Knowing was what expected of you, you put the cake on the floor, tossed the plastic cover aside, and handed her the strap before plunging your face into the cake, mentally savoring the first view of her naked you'd ever see. You dug into the cake eagerly, knowing from experience that you'd need more to feel full, confident she'd take care of you.
The first thrust into you felt heavenly, your mind dropping its thoughts and preoccupations like someone dropping a tray of silverware. Her voice was smooth and thrumming and dripping with genuine contempt as she fucked you.
"It's incredible what I've done to you, really, what you've done to yourself with just a little help from me. You could've pretended if you hadn't met me. Pretended that you weren't a giant, greedy, disgusting pig, tried to fit in with the normal people and just let go a few nights of year, pretended that the thing you're meant to do on this planet is something other than stuffing your fat face." She started slowly but sped up quickly, pounding into your ass while you ate so that you had to play dead and let the weight of your overworked gut hold you back from getting pushed into the cake, and it made you even hungrier, for her and for the cake. Her hips slapped hard into you and held pushed in for a second before starting again, slow. "Now you've eaten yourself so far past the the point where you could ever really be thin again. Permanently damaging yourself for this stupid fucking fetish? Do you think I don't want to let go like you? Do you think I don't wish I could be the gluttonous, greedy, desperate thing you are? But I can't, because I just won't demean myself like that. Have you looked at yourself? Are you in denial? Do you think you can ever be"--she clutched hard at the lowest roll of your fat belly, digging her nails into it, her voice frantic, desperate, rushed--"normal again? Forever stretched out. Your lack of self-control has left its mark on your forever." She fucked you harder, sliding a hand between your legs as you felt yourself rise to the brink of orgasm. The cake was gone and frosting was matted into your hair, and your belly, bulging with cake and fat, ached as an orgasm shot its way through you like the sound of something breaking.
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Girlfriend Points Out Your Weight Gain
Let’s be real. You haven’t exactly been watching what you eat or putting any time into working out. Actually, it’s been the complete opposite. The only thing you seem committed to lately is growing that waistline, and trust me, it’s noticeable.
Normally, I’m not the kind of girlfriend to point it out or make you feel bad, but honestly? Maybe a little shame is in order, because you’ve been turning yourself into a soft little butterball. A greedy pig with no end in sight.
And it’s starting to affect our sex life. How exactly do you expect to fuck me properly with that huge fat belly in the way? It’s getting harder and harder for me to enjoy myself when you’re huffing and puffing over me like some overfed hog.
You know I care about my pleasure, and right now? Your body is becoming more useful for stuffing and teasing than anything else. Maybe instead of pretending you’re still in shape, you should accept what you really are becoming: soft, gluttonous, and completely out of control.
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Trying to not get off for like ten days, it’s been five and I‘m watching my fantasies escalate from the discomfort of sitting on my wet pussy.
So far, I got to fetishising health issues, raising goal weight from 440 lbs/200 kg to 600 lbs, pegging a fatty because his dick is buried and someone has to fuck, and today I also dreamed about some human livestock situation with my bed bound dream hog being fattened and his cock getting milked by machines.
Not masturbating is really making me a better person who is definitely not thinking horny depraved thoughts all day while being at risk of walking into a lamppost
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