whispers

it's so so hot to me the ways you are very consciously making yourself "worse". knowing fully well the consequences of the things you're doing to yourself but doing them anyway, just because it gets you off

i'm personally not very into slob or farts, but seeing you train yourself into developing a fart kink was... wow 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

It’s one of the hottest things ever for me 😵‍💫 there’s something really exhilerating about remembering that just two years ago I was actively turned off by gas, slob, healthplay, etc… I love pushing and expanding my own limits just as much as I enjoy expanding my waistline, turning into a fat blob of my former self 🐷

I’ve gotten utterly miserable at work before from chugging heavy cream before my shift and stuffing with shitty fast food on my lunch break, constantly gurgling and failing to hold back gas… Luckily I was the only person in the room I was working in!

Also, I caught what’s probably my nastiest fart yet the other day:

Morning routine

I heave my body out of bed, and watch myself struggle against my stomach mass in the mirror across the room. I look at how pathetic I’ve become, it’s embarrassing. I waddle from bed to kitchen heaving and huffing, sometimes needing an inhaler for my obesity induced asthma. I get my prize from the kitchen and begin to shovel it past my chubby cheeks. I start to zone out and develop a vacant stare of mindless bliss and ecstasy. I eat for an hour or so, upon waking my poor belly is so hungry.

feeding my wingstop addiction

I want my fat to be even more in my way

My daily life 💕

I drink them in 3 bottles of 600ml, it totals about 6000 cal. With food I usually aim for 6 meals. All unhealthy, either fast food or butter soaked sugar dusted freezer food. My meals are big and multiple courses of different things to try. With a few snacks throughout the day it makes for a near constant source of eating and emotional fulfilment. By the end of the day I feel like I’m carrying a massive balloon ball. I’m sweating and barely coherent, just laying on my side, stomach spilling onto the bed. It aches to move. Sometimes I need to sit upright from the immense swelling of my distended stretched out stomach. It hurts, I cradle my poor bursting belly and rub the achey cramps away until I fall into food coma.

Heart attack, or bursting my stomach sack. In my final hour as I lay there completely engulfed by my fat, I feel fear knowing the nurse won’t arrive for a few hours, and I’m too fat to get up and use the phone. So I just sit there grabbing my chest, helpless to stop my cardiac arrest. So I keep stuffing the cupcakes beside me into my mouth instinctively out of sadness and frustration with myself, I eat. My final moments of life, as the heart spasms get stronger, my mouth is packed full of cake, that’s all my life is worth, just one more bite, that’s everything to me. Burry me in a really wide custom made coffin for my overly engorged size. Hell if I could have it my way, engrave PIG on my headstone and send me off with a burger stuffed half into my porky face fat