gets me off

SSBBW Mandalorieann

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To be fat is to know heaven, I tell people. To eat uncontrollably is bliss.

I am always pursuing more, pursuing bigger. There will never be enough food. I will never stop growing. Gaining is the very essence of who I am. To grow rounder, softer, larger.

To love my fat body is to love my drooping arms, my hanging belly, my pendulous tits, and spread thighs. To marvel at each roll, each bit of blubber. To appreciate my triple chin and swollen ankles, my chubby hands and back rolls.

To love food is to know the joy of biting down on a cookie, into a cake. To shovel spoon after spoon of ice cream and still need *more.* To need to food — constant food — so eagerly that you frantically stuff and desperately shove anything fattening in sight, trying always to get more, more, more in. To be soaking wet every time you eat because food is so inherently erotic, so purely sexual for you at this point.