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(Collective Manifestation Ritual Special)

We are living in an era that wants to cure us.

Society demands mobility and obsessive performance. Clinical research is driven by profit margins, constantly seeking the newest drug or the sharpest scalpel to shrink the human body, to make it functional and acceptable.

I reject their definition of function.

I want a future where the desire to become a totally immobile, ever-expanding blob is not just a whispered online kink, but a recognized destiny.

I want a future where our society is so wildly rebellious and elusive that their restrictive profit logics cannot even be applied to us. Where the medical field stops trying to save us from the lard we love, and instead redirects its research toward making the transition into true blob sexuality biologically sustainable.

I want a world where the dreams of feedees are not just possible, but where the physical reality shatters their wildest dreams.

Where 600 pounds are a joke of the past, and we engineer the human frame to support two thousand pounds.

I want a future where those who want to feed, and those who want to be fattened up, do so completely free of conditioning. They live only to push themselves far beyond every acceptable limit known to mankind.

I want a reality where the planet itself grows heavier because tens of thousands of blobs are eating relentlessly and recklessly, weighing a metric ton each. Where these pioneers are allowed and enabled and fed to blissfully dissolve into their own lard, becoming the sacred inspiration for the next generation of feedees, a generation that will raise the stakes to two tons.

Our culture as the People of the Lard must grow every single day, as relentlessly and unstoppably as the gut of a terminally obese feedee.

We are not an illness.

We are Gravity.

Reblog this post if you are interested in morbid / death feedism and are okay getting flirty DMs / asks about it!

🔪 Reblog if you are an evil feeder, want an 🐷 🐷 evil feeder, or have evil feeder fantasies 🔪

I’ve always been into this kink and gaining weight but never found it that much fun alone so I never truly got fully 24/7 into it but i always think how much better and hotter would be with a feeder, not any feeder… a truly perverse comprised feeder…

A feeder who’s only goal in life is to make me as fat as possible.. Making sure my every daily routine is just being in home watching tv and barely moving from the sofa or bed.. Making sure all my meals are highly processed junk foods (pizzas, cakes, cheeseburgers) making sure that i eat this foods in a daily basis.

Making sure all I drink are milkshakes or soda and weight gain milkshakes.. funnel feed me tons of calories in crazy amounts every night leaving me as a pig in bed barely able to move.

And a Perverse mindset too… a feeder who makes sure every goal or plan I had in life is gone.. my life is now gaining and getting fat for him/her. I want a fully compromised evil feeder.. someone who’s willing to make me obese no matter what.. punishing me for not gaining 10lbs per month leaving me tied and force feeding me every night.

Especially if you feel like this example of a month of gains starting out is exciting:

They can no longer cum unless it's at the tail end of a multiple thousand calorie binge, being held in a threatening manner by their feeder, and being commanded to squeal like the dumb, pig-brained slut that they are gradually turning into over the past several months.

The same person will tell you they don't want to be immobile. They'll go on about how 500lbs is going to happen. It has to. It must feel amazing to be so big. They'll even see My 600lb Life and envy some of those setups. Oh to be that big...

But no, they don't want to be immobile. Right?

Their tumblr likes betray them. A spotless record on their blog posts. Just an obese girl who loves getting fatter! But the likes are a certain level deeper. Dark, aggressive feeders. Kidnapping fantasies. Locked in a room. Forced enabling. Conditioning someone to eat more. Vignettes of someone coming to grips with the fact they cannot walk. Every movement is a desperate shuffle to a nearby place to collapse onto.

Of course, just fantasies. As if that's something to be proud of. You'll gain to 600lbs but won't become immobile? How noble. The picture of self restraint.

This all coming from the same person who panics at the mention of going on a walk. You can't prove to me that you'd be able to reign it in for one day? One measly day? We'll park in front of your favorite restaurant and walk around the block. Will you cry because I don't let you have dinner here? Can you resist wanting to stuff yourself in public? Aren't you proud that you can walk? I thought these things mattered.

Or are you a pig. A cow. A weak-minded food addict.

I see through these lies. You hope and pray that telling yourself and others about not wanting to be immobile will make it feel true. A terrible fate that you aren't stumbling towards. As if eating 5,000+ calories a day and taking fewer than 20 steps at a time isn't going to catch up to you in a few years.

Yet you'll dance as close to the line as you can go. The mental gymnastics of suggesting that 600lbs isn't bad! It's those last 50lbs+ that would suddenly become less pleasurable.

You hope they become less pleasurable. Or is it the fear that they'll hit even harder? Knowing you're trapped. Unemployable. Months and years of restriction away from being able to live independently.

Gasping for breath from laying motionless. Whimpering from another mindless binge session. Having a feeder warning you that you are NOWHERE close to being big enough for their perverted desires. Terrified at the occasional realization that your body and increasing weight is entirely decided upon by someone else.

Unable to resist the way your feeder makes you cum. Will it look especially pathetic to orgasm at that size? Your body twitching and jiggling in pleasure, too overloaded with fat and weight to properly shake and cum like you did hundreds of pounds ago.