An Experiment

I don't want you to make me fat.

I want you to make my body a prison of lard I can't ever escape from. Trap me, drown me, suffocate me with lard.

Tie me up, lock me up, whatever it takes. Ignore my pleas for you to stop. You decide when I'm done. You're in control. I'm just the vessel for your twisted, sadistic fantasy.

Make me deliciously laden. Make me swell with creamy blubber. Make me your desperate, quaking slab of meat.

I don't want you to make me fat.

"shut up and let me use you"

"yeah, you know what you're good for"

"look at you, you're just where you belong"

"god, it's like you were made for this"

Are you prepared to make sacrifices? How badly do you want this? Can you handle when the fantasy becomes the reality? Will you continue when it gets hard? Am I worth it to you? Is the fat worth it all?

The answer better be a yes.

If it isn’t, I’m not sure what to tell you because if you’re here reading this right now… I’m already in your brain. My words are in your ears. My hands are already holding the beginnings of your growing rolls.

You see I’ve been giving you the illusion of choice all along. You thought you had control? HA. You never stood a chance. Look at me. I’m everything you crave in a woman, a partner, a FEEDER.

Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful pig and I love how you’ve evolved. You were made for this. Through my hands you’re become this.

I’ll be DAMNED if you think you can change your fate. Unlike that family sized bag of potato chips you’re finishing off, your fate is sealed. I’m taking you all the way hog.

So, be prepared to grow. Be prepared to lose mobility. Be prepared to become a bottomless pit of gluttony. Be prepared to become my gluttonous, immobile, wheezing, unhealthy whale for my own pleasure.

I’ll take complete care of you. You’ll be my prized pig in a herd of cattle. You’ll know no life better than the one you have and it’ll be your slice of heaven I’ve created for you.

Document my gains, my habits, my diet, my personality. A journal to each category, photo collages and scrap books of every little milestone we find important. Measure me and take note of my stretch marks.

Draw on me and outline where you think the next few pounds of fat are going to end up at. Pinch and prod my body at your expense and even mention how it feels, the texture of it. Talk my ears off while you make me stand there on full display for your discerning eye. Not once caring how tired I get or how out of breath I am from having to stand on my own for so long

Make notes of when I manage to eat a bite or two more. How over the course of months and years that instead of bites, it’s evolved into plates and full dishes extra just to feed me. Explain my diet to me while you keep me down on all fours with my face in my dog bowl, sitting on my back and forcing me to hold you up. Patting my side when I’ve done good.

Keeping track of what foods turn me on more and coming up with meal courses serving to show my arousal rise with each bite, climaxing to me panting and grinding into my chair at the end of the dinner. Force desserts into me for the sake of consistent experiments, each meal has to end the same way no matter how full I am.

Fantasy and RP are fine, but if you don’t make it clear you’re engaging in that capacity, you’re going to look like an idiot.

“Wear your tightest clothes and go to the mall, waddle around, fatty 😈”

Cool cool cool, I’ve gained 100lbs. My tightest pants, if I somehow got them buttoned, would cause me to have a medical emergency before I rip them. They’re Levi’s, the quality is insane.

I think it's important for those of us who are not doing the eating or stuffing to actually have some basic understandings of what is probably a likely (but not a certain) amount of food someone can consume so that we can set expectations before we enter a scene.

In BDSM some people talk about "up-negotiating," where after you've already agreed to the parameters of playing together (e.g., getting tied up in a certain way) one or both people go "well... we could also do this that's a little more intense..." While it can be harmless and fun, there's a real danger within that because you're literally intoxicated with fun-loving brain chemicals and aren't really in a position to have informed consent (again, as either a dom, sub, feedee, or feeder).

If feedists know enough about limits before-hand, then we can set reasonable expectations when we're playing together and not ask questions that, for either party, can feel disappointing, hurtful, or even straight up endangering. The goal is to decrease that friction on the front-end so that when you're really in the space of playing together, you have really clear consent and boundaries where you can keep all of the fun.

This is true in lots of things -- like physical capacity and limits for the fat person to have sex on top, for example -- but for eating is probably the most important thing to understand.

And for those who might complain "oh but asking and figuring that stuff out before-hand feels clinical and like it takes all the fun out of 'discovering' in the moment," I would say: discovering people's needs, wants, and limits is the only way you can build real safety. Once you have that, then you can go somewhere you can both enjoy. If you don't have that, you're going to hurt someone and (unless you're a total sociopath) the guilt and hurt of that will follow you aroud for a long time.

In short: learn your partner's limits and wants in advance; find creative ways to work with them (e.g., turn their physical capacity into a fantastical reason why they can't eat more), and build ever-deepening safety. That's how you have safe and fun times over the long-term.

I truly love unhealthy gains and how it’s gonna affect my body. I love feeling sluggish after stuffing myself with fast food, but I do want it forced upon me sometimes.

Average fatphobe: I should tell this fat chick that she's gross and she ruined her body lol.

i’m also monitoring how much time she actually stays in bed. sometimes she falls asleep in the middle of the day from eating a lot and her hours in bed reach like 19 hours out of 24.

can’t wait for the day she’ll try to get up like she usually does and she’ll realize she can’t stand anymore for whatever reason: ankles or feet too swollen up from insulin and blood sugar, or maybe her articulations simply stopped supporting that much of a terminally obese hog.

i want to see the fear in her eyes. i want to hear her heart skip some beats because she thought she’d have more time before failing to stand from that point to the exact minute of her fattening and agonizing end. i want to hear her rasping breath trying to utter some worried words and i want to press the funnel to her lips and simply reassuring her that I’m gonna take care of all her needs without her having ever again to touch the floor with her soles.

i want to dry her tears while i stretch that big balloon stomach out with extremely caloric slop and to listen to her organs struggling to keep up with me and my plans for her.

i want her eyes to go cloudy from diabetic retinopathy, i want to blind her with so much sugar that she’ll not even understand what i’m feeding her. i want her little sausagy fingers to go numb with sugar, i want to put a nasogastric feeding tube into her intestines so that she’ll gain weight 24/7 without even me needing to move a finger for it. well, i’ll do it anyways… i mean, i’ll keep feeding her high calories fried junk while she is fed slop by the tube.

i don’t care if she suffers, she’s mine to do whatever i want with her. she’s my fattening pig, and i cherish her in the same way a farmer cherishes their prize-winning fattest hog.

she’s my pet, hell, even less than a pet sometimes, since i’d never do anything like this to my cat. she’s my first project and i love her so much that she has to expire exactly the way i programmed her to.

until then, i’ll simply keep reanimating her to fatten her up to my wishes.

she cannot die if i don’t allow her to.

like yes, tell me about how your belly gets in the way of putting on shoes!

tell me about how your belly keeps on bumping into your desk!

tell me about how you're out of breath so fast now!

tell me about how hard it gets to get up from the couch/bed!