so turned on by the idea that im too fat for u to be seen with in public 🥵 that your friends are gonna make fun of you, and your family is gonna ask questions. the look of sheepishness on your face when u have to help me out of the booth, bc i ate so much i got stuck
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I've been feeling really sadistic again recently. I want to stuff a feedee till they're physically unable to move, out of breath and stuck on the couch. I want them to be in actual discomfort when they try to move from their spot on the couch. Then I want to fuck them while they are so stuffed, hearing their moans of discomfort and pleasure. This would be a daily occurance and I would be punishing my piggy just becuase i feel like, I don't need a reason tbh. If they try to waddle away I'll just grab them by their fat piggy love handles and gently guide them to the nearest chair and stuff them till they can't waddle anymore
awe… your gut feels so fat and constantly swollen? people must assume you’ve developed health issues by now? & they already know your diet consists mostly of fast foods and heavy cream? just by the way you’re soo out of breath walking from the car into the restaurant? you can see they’re all staring at you while you order…and eat…and burp…and groan…? while you got up you had to slightly, embarrassingly rub your distended gut? because the pain of eating all that lard was just too much?
what a shameful, public statement of your own gluttony. loooooove it!
Tie me to the bed before I can even wake up and when i do shove the funnel in my mouth and make me drink 3000 calories of creamy, sweet, gluttonous lard.
Make sure I don’t even have a chance to stop or slow down what you’re doing to my body. You’ve decided I’m going to be a greedy, stuffed pig before I’ve even had the time to form a thought.
So what’s the point in slowing down if I’m just going to get fatter anyway.
Might as well just give in and get as fat as possible.
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i want to be someone's full time pet that they fatten obsessively just because they think it's hot/cute, but with no regard for my wellbeing. from the day they take me in my step count is reduced to the single digits per day, and my calorie count easily in the quintuple digits. infusing as much of my food as possible with THC, and practically all my fluids with alcohol. to keep me docile, stuffed, and confused 24/7. really dumb me down and make me feel like your animal. keep me unable to really process what you're doing to me through a thick fog of intoxication. show off your puppy's obscene gain to your friends. let them watch me pant and struggle as you make me follow your commands for a treat. lay me down and have them pet my massive belly to show off how soft i've been getting. repeat this cycle forever.
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When I say I want you to get so fat you’re unrecognizable… I don’t just mean putting on a few hundred pounds so that you look a lot different.
I mean I want ALL of your features, ANY uniqueness of your body shape, to be completely buried in blubber. I want your arms and legs to be swallowed up by your fat. Your chest and your chins to be indistinguishable from all the other rolls of fat on your body.
If you’re lucky, even your eyes and ears will be hidden behind layers of lard. Because all you really need is nostrils for your oxygen tube, and a food hole so you can keep eating and growing.
You may not be easily recognizable as human, but it will be crystal clear that you’re the greediest creature that ever lived 😈
One night, you dream you're thin again. Going about normal dream things, being late, trying to figure out something, giving a presentation at work. But then your stomach gurgles, and you look down and see you've put on weight. Grown from narrow-hipped to husky with fully rounded thighs and straining shirt buttons. You feel embarrassed, everyone around you staring as another gurgle sounds and your body swells a little bigger. A little bigger.
Then, as you hold your breath, maybe trying to smile to ease the tension in the room, your waistline expands like a breaking dam. Your ass doubles - triples, quadruples - in size. Your clothes break and tear into pathetic tatters as you decide to escape and find privacy.
Sudden obesity making it hard to balance, you do your best to waddle away, but just as you reach the door to leave, you fatten out again in one huge surge and get trapped in the doorframe. You call out for help, and the hands of those who ogled you push on your massive ass or engorged love handles, trying to help you pop out. It's no use. Someone beautiful and chubby steps in front of you with a tray of glorious food, and you don't question why they're feeding you now, stuffing your mouth with delicious junk, making you moan and get fatter, causing your ass to fatten back against the hands of your would-be helpers.
The doorframe creaks, then loudly cracks to accommodate you, and even though you're trapped, you're almost comfortable. The hands on your obese backside begin to rub and massage and caress you as as you eat and grow, making you sleepy. You're fed and fed with unlimited quantities as your feeder pats and prods your hulking, drooping half-naked belly and breasts.
You grow fatter and fatter, then impossibly fat, belly and ass brushing the floor beneath, your face buoyed on four heavy chins. You…
wake up.
Breathing heavy. Swallowing as you struggle to get out of bed. Even your dreams know: you're fatter than you've ever been.
being this fat gets me horny af, knowing people pretend they are disgusted when they see my obese body when really they fantasize about touching it and squishing it and fucking it
Just give me more and more. Feed me until I am so full I can’t breathe. Stuff my face with all of that delicious, decadent and fattening food. Make my belly grow and stretch. Keep bringing plate after plate. Want me to be soooo fat. Tell me what a piggy I am. How I’ve turned into a blob. Grab handfuls of my fat rolls and stuff more food into my greedy mouth. You are such a great feeder. Fill me up and feed me fatter forever
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I just love when they have a gigantic gut that weighs them down. I love when a nice, flabby belly hangs between their legs when they sit. I love when that same hefty sack of a stomach bounces off their thighs when they walk. I love when they have a massive, blubbery, sagging orb of flesh for a belly. I love when a meaty, hanging apron gut balloons into a solid round ball of lard on top, so fully layered and encased in fat it just starts blowing up outwards. I love when a little pinch-style belly button starts changing shape and squishing together, and then becoming a deep, dark belly hole. I just love when a feedee’s fat gut gets fatter. A big, tubby belly gets tubbier. A smooth, pudgy, floppy dough ball getting so heavy and bulged. Thick side rolls, deep overhangs, folds forming, little clefts and creases. I love when a big bouncy ball of blubber is also a massively squishy, thickened blanket of meat sagging over their lap and heading towards their knees.
I love when they’re so fat it’s clear their belly dominates their life. Constant eating, constant indulging, constant gorging. I love when a body has to bend to that decision. When someone’s frame is dominated by their gigantic hanging gut. Their posture changes. They look like they’re losing balance. Either they’re bent over, desperately trying to lift up the weight and the heft, or they’re leaning back, arduously holding that massive sack of a gut up to hang off their hips.
When someone gets this fat, the level of fat when they can barely fit through doorways or on chairs or in cars, you must wonder who is in control: them or their belly?
Are you worried that this is you? The answer is simple. Look down. Does your heavy, blubbery gut fill your lap and your vision? Does it keep your thighs warm? Does it make every outfit a game of stretch out or bulge over? Do you love to squish it, and lift it, and flop it onto things?
Still not sure? Answer this question: what would you do if I left your favorite food unattended next to you? A pizza hot and ready. A delicious cake, cut. Unwrapped sweets. A bowl full of your favorite pasta. A large, cool, creamy drink. I didn’t say it was for you. I just left them there and went out of the room.
How long could you wait? Would you wait until your belly gurgled and groaned for them? Would you persevere until your mouth watered and a drop of drool escaped your lips? Would you be able to stop yourself until the phantom taste becomes inseparable from the aroma of your favorite foods and desserts? They’re in arm’s reach.
Just stop worrying. Listen to your belly. Reward it. It’s your monument to your gluttony. It’s your reward for being a devoted, dedicated listener. It’s your prize for being so good at eating. It’s your trophy, your badge of honor, your pride for succeeding in proving you really are in tune with your desires.
It’s your life: a hungry, sagging, soft, meaty, lardy, blubbery gut. Just keep eating.