Broadening Horizons

First of all I think over these past 2 weeks I’ve managed to put on another 10/12 pounds (scale was being finicky) and nearly burst out of my jeans during class one morning but it was so so hot so honestly I don’t even mind. 🥵Those jeans certainly won’t fit after this weekend and I’m making sure of that by ordering in some pizza and stuffing myself to the brim and then some 😋

I was feeling cute and extra chunky today so I decided to take a pic and share it. I’m pushing 235lb on the scales and I can’t believe how fat I’m getting 😍🐷 I’m no where near how fat I’d like to be but my goodness I love where it’s going and the weight has been packing on so quickly I’m in love with it 😍😍😍

360° of disgusting fat 🐷

Having fat on your body is not enough, becoming a fatty should be a permanent lifestyle change like a black hole that only sucks you in deeper.

Let food become the answer to every situation.

Celebrate every victory with over indulgence, eat your feelings when they hurt, pass the time with snacks...

Food is beautiful.

Food is your true best friend and is always there for you.

The warm feeling of stuffing yourself is pure happiness and bliss.

Isn't it great that being truly happy is always at your finger tips?

Don't think about it, just give into it.

Whenever you get a craving indulge it immediately.

Get used to indulging your cravings all the time and forget what it's like to have self control..

Get addicted to your favourite foods and keep reinforcing that addiction until it's impossible to break.

Every day that you give in pushes the possibility of turning back away.

The process should become so automatic that even if you are trying to show restraint and debate over whether or not to indulge, you mindlessly have started eating without even realizing.

The realization that you've become a slave to food might upset you at first but it's so hot to see how you've degrading and it just gets you so horny that you end up eating more instead.

Soon you will train your mind to crave food just from the thought of losing weight.

You will condition yourself to meet all forms of resistance to your new fat self with more eating.

Feeling a lack of confidence from your fat and considering dropping some weight to fit your clothes better?

Go stuff yourself.

Worried about the negative effects this lifestyle might have on your health?

Go stuff yourself.

And when it comes to physical activities you will always choose the path of least resistance.

If you have to decide between being lazy or putting in effort you will choose the fuzzy, cozy, happy feelings of lazing around.

Being lazy and sedentary feels sooo good. It's your other best friend after food after all.

Remember when you used to like going on walks? Now the thought seems horrid to you.

All of your interests have grown to revolve around being lazy and eating.

Watching shows, playing games, hanging around the computer or lying in bed on your phone...

The further you go, the more permanent this lifestyle is becoming.

You will condition yourself to meet all opportunities to give effort with being lazy.

Left the light on in the living room?

It's too far away now, you'll just stay in bed.

Friends getting together for a night out?

Maybe next time, it's too comfortable and happy hear on the couch with snacks and good shows.

You no longer just have a fat person's body... Now you have a fat person's brain.

You are wired to be lazy and you can't even comprehend the idea of anything else.

You relate to all the fattest people around you who got that way by accident and struggle with daily life.

There struggles have become your struggles.

You've become such a natural fatty that everyone will assume you've been this way all your life.

And as far as anyone is concerned, you have... because you are now exactly the same as someone who has been fat all their life.

Your muscles have all atrophied and left you weak.

You swear you used to know how to flex your muscles but now when you try nothing happens, it's just jiggly fat everywhere.

This is you forever now.

The habits have become permanent and you're only going to gain more fat habits along the way.

Howdy folks! It sure has been awhile, so I hate to give you something that won’t appeal to everyone. But that is, however, exactly what I did. Sorry, I guess.

CONTENT WARNING: This is deathfeedist content. While there’s no explicit mention of mortality, a lot of folks may find this uncomfortable due the the health issues discussed, and the nature in which they are presented. This content is not suitable for minors. That being said, I hope those of you that are interested in this stuff will enjoy it. As for those that are not interested, it’s best you just look away.

I don’t think you fully understand what you’re doing to your body. People aren’t meant to carry this much extra fat. Every fattening meal you stuff yourself with sets off alarm bells in all of your vital organs. They’re already choking on a thick, liberal coating of gelatinous congealed grease. But despite all that, you’re still eating more. You know you’re not hungry - it’s obvious just from looking at your jiggly gut that you are dangerously overfed. But you’re not eating to feed your muscles or organs. You’re eating to feed your fat. Feeding its boundless growth, its ever-expanding heft, its steady creeping into the vital systems that dutifully try their best to keep your alive. You’re not making it easy. After all, you barely move all day. Shrinking, underused muscles struggle to move a body bogged down by heavy swelling sacks of fat. You’re oh-so-careful not to expend any valuable energy after a big, unhealthy meal. All of that glucose and grease just drifts through your veins, unable to be put to any good use. Your bloodstream gets thick and sticky as it becomes oversaturated with sugar. Pale globules of grease coat your stiffening artery walls, make them appear sickly pink in color. All the while, you’re still just sitting on your ass, glazed-over eyes glued to whatever junk you’re watching, blissfully unaware of the fluttery ill-timed beats of your fat coated heart as it weakly struggles to move your syrupy blood. After your body recognizes that none of those thousands of excess calories that you just packed in can be burned for energy, it gets to work storing them - easier said than done, considering that all of your thick yellow fat pads are already swollen far beyond capacity. But when it comes to finding places to store more fat, obese bodies like yours always find a way, even if it chips away even more at your ever-declining health. Lucky for you, the decision is easy today. All of those empty processed sugars slogging through your bloodstream are perfect for development of one specific type of fat: visceral belly fat. Most of your meals lately have been particularly well-suited to grow belly fat, funny enough. Sure, the wobbly slabs of blubber coating your weak, useless arms and legs are growing too. But lately, it’s been seeming like all of those rich, heart-stopping meals have been turning straight into hard-packed belly sludge. You’re really growing a proper beer gut - still soft and jiggly, but with a hard ball of visceral fat inflating beneath that jolly facade, sharing the same increasingly cramped space with nearly every vital organ in your body. This type of deep belly fat is far more metabolically active than any of your other swollen bulges of fat. It secretes a hormone called NPY, which has two main functions. First, it is a powerful appetite stimulant. That never-full feeling, those constant cravings for more greasy junk food, that sweet tooth that never goes away no matter how high you manage to spike your blood sugar… all thanks to the constant excess supply of NPY that your belly fat is leaching out. Of course, the more belly fat you grow, the more extra NPY you make, and the hungrier you get… Which brings us to the second function of NPY - it actively stimulates the development of brand new fat cells. At this point, I should probably note that fat cells are permanent. They can grow or shrink, but they NEVER go away. Permanently increasing your ability to store more fat. You’ve put yourself on a path to grow belly fat - but you’re already out of time to turn around. You’re on autopilot now, kept hungry and growing by the pile of unhealthy yellow slop polluting your insides. Every organ is begging for you to stop. It’s anyone’s guess if the binge-drinking or the binge-eating will break your liver first. Your arteries are narrowing, thick grease-coated walls cracking under the strain of your intense, unsustainable blood pressure. You haven’t been able to take a full deep breath in ages - your jiggly chest is holding far too much fat to allow your lungs to fully expand. Your heart is weak and failing, but there’s no way to know from the outside - there’s a layer of fat several inches thick choking the life out of it. Each heartbeat is only recognizable by the slight jiggle of that ball of fat. But you couldn’t stop overfeeding and gaining, even if you tried. All the doctors in the world couldn’t stop you. You’ve put yourself on a path of unhealthy, unsustainable weight gain. It only ends one way. (source for the wacky science stuff, if anybody is interested) https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/04/080416153551.htm) Thanks for reading! I hope you can appreciate that this work exists in fantasy, and is not intended to be interpreted literally. If you really enjoyed it and would like to see more, I would really appreciate a donation to my KoFi! (https://ko-fi.com/chubb_e_lover).

All the best,

You want to be fucked right? It's been a while hasn't it? A few weeks, maybe a month. But your numbers haven't climbed much. You've not eaten as much as I want you to. I push and push more calories into you but you just don't seem to be growing.

Your purpose is to grow, pig. You need to know your place. You need to reach your goals fatty. If you don't, I can get real nasty and show you how much of a bitch I can be.

Four hundred seventy pounds is still quite small. Piglet sized in fact. Six hundred is when the real struggle begins. When rolling yourself over is a feat in itself. Your first goal is that. To struggle heaving your hefty, lard filled body over in bed. With enough calories, sugars, and carbs you will get there.

I want to see the dread in your face when I order you to roll over for me. The sweat dripping from you as you build up the momentum to do such a little task normal sized people can easily do. Grabbing for leverage, huffing and wheezing between each attempt. Ultimately failing and giving in, asking me for help. I won't hesitate though. I can't wait to have my hands sink into deep corpulent skin. I'll tease you every second though. I'm not going easy on you.

Your second goal to reach will to be able to fit three large pizzas inside of you. Thick, greasy, cheesy slices of pizzas all stuffed in your gut. Where you're at now you can do one large, but three? That will take willpower. Swallowing mindlessly until you realize you're getting full but my hand just keeps coming. I'll want your belly as big as a beach ball and just as round. I'll be ruthless and will not stop until I'M satisfied. You'll want to beg and cry but it will fall on deaf ears while I rub your tummy and help you make room for more. Maybe if you're good and finish it all I'll reward you with a quick fuck.

Your third goal will be tricky. At this point you should be too fucking huge to fit into any size of clothing, only to be covered with a sheet. I'd say, roughly eight hundred pounds or close to nine hundred. Severely obese. Nearing immobility. You'll exhert yourself just sitting up for your first meal of the day. Which will consist of 30 pancakes, half a pound of bacon, a roll of sausage, 10 eggs, and a gallon of orange juice. And by this point your stomach will be so overstretched and abused you'll easily gulp it all down.

I'll spend most of my time cooking for you and when I don't feel like it, I'll funnel a slurry of melted butter and ice cream straight down your throat for added empty calories in between large meals. I need you to keep up with me because the more you grow the more I'm going to force into you.

Your fourth goal will to struggle to stand up and even get out of bed. At this point you really won't want to. Your body will be so big just moving will be exhausting. I'll taunt you and help you to your feet at least and watch you waddle a few steps until you're out of breath. You'll dread standing up. It'll feel like a marathon to you. Your belly slapping your thighs with every step. Your legs pushed out in a wide stance while you haul each lard loaded leg in front of one another. Ass cheeks wobbling sloppily behind you. I know you'll beg me to lay your fat ass back in bed. I'll allow it after I see you've gotten a proper workout for an overly fattened hog. I need your face to be cherry red, your knees wobbling from the weight, and you groaning from exhaustion. That's when you'll have my permission to be sedentary once again.

For your fifth goal? Well, after this one it just gets easier. You'll be completely bed bound. By this point you'll be passed one thousand pounds and stuck sitting on your fat ass making it really easily for me to manipulate you. Brainwash you. This is your place piggy, right in this bed. Your body so packed with lard you'd need a team of VERY strong paramedics to move you and the proper heavy duty equipment.

Your only purpose will be to consume nearly 24/7. Eat and eat and eat. Fill yourself even fatter piggy. I'll adore you, fuck you, and care for you. All while you literally eat your life away. This is your dream though, to be a pig. I'll keep you stuffed full. 10 large pizzas in a day. Pounds of pasta. Endless amounts of cakes and cookies. You'll be so hopelessly addicted to sugar your mouth won't catch a break, nor will your stomach. You'll be in a constant state of gurgling indigestion, but I'll just tip your head back and pour more sugar into you, and you'll love it.

There will be no more goals after that. Anything more than being so fucking fat you can't even stand up is just a plus. Arms too bloated to even be raised at your sides? Amazing. Your neck fat is making it hard to breathe? Superb. I will be shocked if you live another year with me filling and fucking you. Hyper obesity has its consequences..but your purpose is to eat and swell up fatter than the day before. Nothing else will matter by the time you get so big you need a crane to move you. You'll be too lazy, dumb, and defeated to ever go back to a normal life.

So now pig, what is your purpose again?

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Yeah I know I've let myself go

My toned chest and stomach has gotten soft. TOO soft.

But keeping up with that has gotten difficult with you around.

Funneling every calorie and crumb into me.

Gaining hundreds of pounds was really easy. Easier than working out of course.

I always wanted to be the fit feeder...but it seems the tables have turned and it's everything I've ever wanted.

Except

Being so Goddamn huge has a few disadvantages.

Including trying to reach my cock..

How embarrassing.

You tease me too.

Being six hundred and fifty pounds is hard.

But when I am in desperate need of release and struggle to get it...that's a whole new ball game.

I never thought my cock could shrink under all of this weight.

You tell me how hard it is to find it until I lean back and lift my huge gut for you.

I'm embarrassed but need release.

You hold me down and force thousands of calories down my throat and I willingly submit.

Your hand slips between my blubbery thighs to find my rock hard buried cock.

And to think we used to fuck on the regular and now I've become this obese blob.

Useless and growing even more helpless day by day.

But my poor neglected cock is slowly being buried. I can't even reach it anymore.

When I look in the mirror I can see this big thick mound of fat enveloping it and there's not a single thing I can do to stop it.

I wanted this.

I knew I should have stopped when I was getting winded just from getting out of bed.

But I didn't. I kept gorging, feasting, and swelling.

Now I'm pushing seven hundred pounds.

I'm not just obese...I'm extremely obese.

Those numbers are nearing immobile status quickly and you are taking full advantage of my lack of physical fitness.

But the pressure is building and I need relief.

I try to rub myself by sitting on and grinding a pillow. That does NOT work. Fuck I get so hard when you feed me.

You're so mean to neglect me until I beg for it.

Please just fuck me.

Make me as fat as you can possibly get me. I don't care. My cock stays hard nearly all the time. I know it's slowly getting harder to reach even for you but I need this.

Just lay me back and spread my legs as far as you can. Pin my fatpad back with one hand and jerk me off with the other. I'll cum instantly...

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I need it so bad. Fuck it. Feed me constantly. Make me so fucking big I'm unrecognizable.

I just need to cum. My balls ache from being ignored. I'm so pathetic.

It's frustrating being so fat that you can't reach your dick..

Out of breath just by getting into a sitting position. Fuck me.

If you can roll me over and stuff your cock in my ass, that would work too. Just fuck me please!

If you can reach.. that is...

I don't even know if my heart can take an orgasm at this point either. It pounds even when I'm just laying here guzzling down your slop you feed me. I know you love watching me beg for it..

But now I guess I don't care any more. I'll eat, cum, and my heart will pop.

So please come help me...

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Let me be your experiment.

Do whatever you want with me.

Choke me, bound me, gag me, smack my ass and degrade me.

Call me your fat piggy slut.

Roll me over and fuck me while my face is buried in slop.

Feed me while you fuck me.

Watch me wriggle and writhe while you mercilessly stuff my insides.

Grow me real fucking big.

Force feed me until my legs no longer need to be spread with a spreader bar.

Let me pass 600 lbs with ease.

Call me your worthless pile of lard while you fuck my mouth.

That's the only thing I'm good for is eating.

Use all of my holes. Make sure all 3 are filled.

Stuff cake down my throat until I nearly choke and drown it down with milk.

Fill me with sugar and keep me dumb.

Mold me into your own mindless blob.

Tell me I'm just being used to store fat and my life has no other purpose.

Only to grow.

Remind me of how useless I've become since getting too fat to even roll myself over.

Even you struggle to roll me over, but you do. Just to fuck me and jiggle my huge ass cheeks.

My ass is growing too big for you to reach anything.

My stomach is permanently bloated with thick gaining shake constantly flowing into me.

Stuff me passed 800 lbs.

Tell me I've become a useless sack of lard only to be filled with blubber until I pop.

Whisper how you'll send me to an early grave just by feeding me to death. Then you'll move on to the next hog.

Another young life taken by obesity.

Or buried, you should say.

Bring me endless piles of burgers and pizza to devour.

Dump gallons of grease into your feeding tube and don't stop until my chest starts to tighten.

I need my arteries thick with fat along with the rest of my body.

Heart engulfed in fat.

Organs surrounded by fat.

My options will soon limit.

I chose this life and you chose to enable me.

A life of gluttony with no sense of self control.

Now make me pay for it.

Watch me swallow globs of cake batter and frosting.

Hear my monstrous belly gurgle from indigestion that I choose to ignore.

Funnel feed me until there are tears filling my eyes.

My heart pounds.

My head spins.

Watch as I glut myself up to 1500 lbs.

My arms and legs so filled with fat that they lay uselessly by my sides.

Mounds of fleshy rolls draping over every inch of my body, pinning me down.

More.

More you pump into me while rubbing my plump mound engulfing my pussy, your hand swallowed by two globs of thigh fat.

My body working hard just to find places to fit more fat.

Tell me if I keep going you'll need a crane just to haul my enormous body out when you're done with me.

Let me feel like an object.

Something you just want to use for your own self gratification.

My struggling will subside and I will completely submit. It's the only thing left to do.

To lay like a hopeless hog, too fat to do anything other than eat.

Gorging. Growing. Widening.

Your lust for more of me will blind you.

You'll be so entangled with forcing me to grow you yourself will become out of control.

Pushing more into me, more food and calories than any human should consume.

You won't care. You just want your pleasure. Your satisfaction. You want to see the scale only go up and never down.

I'll be a mess. A wheezing, gasping, heavy mess.

But I'll have nothing left to choose.

Just to eat and grow.

While you play with my body and watch it spread, proud of what you have made.

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You're getting softer everywhere and I know you can feel it, just like I can see it. I know you can feel how every burrito, burger, quesadilla and beer is making you softer, wider, slower and greedier. How every extra mouthful of gluttonous excess is corrupting your mind and changing your body, making it grow heavier and pushing you closer and closer to obesity.

I made a post like this a while ago on a different blog, now long gone. Enjoy!

Immobility doesn’t happen overnight. You don’t just get so fat you’re pinned to your bed from eating a few muffins, it’s a gradual process. A loving feeder takes you under their wing, baking and cooking and feeding. Your once toned stomach becomes soft and slightly jiggly, a little paunch forms and love handles start spilling out the side of your once baggy jeans. Still, your feeder insists that they’ve just shrunk in the wash. They don’t buy you any new ones mind.

And you keep growing. A paunch turns into an overhang, thighs turn into round folds of lard and your chest is a great new pillow. Your arms (or so called ‘bingo wings’) jiggle from the slightest move, especially when you reach for the next bite. And that’s the thing; your appetite is insatiable. You can shovel down plateful after plateful, seconds and thirds and fourths, tub after tub of ice-cream. Despite starting to get out of breath from the slightest bit of excercise you can’t stop stuffing your ever expanding frame.

And it certainly has an affect. That once insignificant overhang has long hid your feet from sight but now your crotch too, to the point where it’s now hard to reach. A fat pad has formed around your genitals, making it even harder to feel through your fat folds to get off. You feel like a beached whale when you lie on your back with fat spilling everywhere. Your underwear strains at every movement, and a few pants have even ripped while tucking into one of your feasts. T-shirts are becoming a chore - why bother? The last fitting one basically acted as a crop top anyway. With every bite your underwear is devoured by every single fat fold expanding from your belly, hips and thighs to the point where you couldn’t tell if you were naked or not. Your fingers have become podgy and hard to use, besides shovelling fast food into the pile of lard you’ve become. Your ass and thighs expand so much when you sit down, you start to take up two seats on the couch. You have to spread your legs to allow your belly room, but with your ever flabbier thighs it all just becomes a sea of lard. More to the fact, you can’t even reach your crotch anymore; no matter how you position your flabby belly or folds upon folds of thighs you can’t even reach the fat pad devouring your genitals, leaving your feeder to decide how and when you get to feel pleasure. Your feeder always revels in it though, pulling you up to bed every night through the pants and wheezing from climbing the stairs and stuffing your frame relentlessly to make sure you kept on growing. Until one day.

You wake up after an extra long stuffing session the night before, stomach rumbling and begging to be filled. You smell the ever welcoming bacon and sausages that great you every morning, and it’s that smell that eventually stirs you. After spending ten minutes rolling around to get sat up, and incredibly out of breath, you manage to get on your feet. But as you try to get through the door of the bedroom, you find your wide ass and hips can’t fit. You try going through sidewards but your massive ass and huge belly get wedged between the doorframe. To their delight, your feeder notices and pushes you back into the bedroom. They reassure you that’s enough for today, and get you settled back in bed.

And that’s where you stay. Constantly eating. Constantly binging. Your belly and thighs become unrecognisable as they keep getting fatter and fatter, until you take up the double bed you were on. Your arms are too heavy for you to lift, sagging with huge sagging sacks of lard, and you become totally reliant on your feeder. You’re so fat and humongous you become your feeder’s mattress, to spend the rest of your days eating and growing your fatty folds of lard and chub for you and your feeder’s enjoyment.