Cantstopgrowing

was kinda tired of all the finger wagging on regular bmi sites so i was like you know what…im gonna just make my own that celebrates high bmi’s instead 😤 i know bmi is a nonesense metric anyways but it’s still HOT so here we are

try it and lmk if it works for you! or if you have any suggestions for improvements (:

(confetti if you’re overweight or above!! 🥳)

INGREDIENTS:

15 2/7 oz package instant vanilla pudding

4 ½ cups buttermilk

3 package fudge stripe cookies - crumbled into chunks and refrigerated

1 package chocolate chips (add caramel, butterscotch, anything you like)

(Add any other cookies you like)

24 oz cool whip

INSTRUCTIONS:

In a medium bowl mix the pudding and buttermilk until smooth. Stir in the cool whip. Crumble cookies and add additional toppings, stir just before serving.

Oreo Gainer Shake:

Approx 3,550 calories, depending on what you use this can change.

Using a whole package of Oreos (typically 36 cookies in a standard pack, though some standard packs contain around 30) a whole pack of Oreos alone is roughly 1,900 calories. You can play around with the ingredients by adding cream, different milk, sauces, fruits, pb, candies, etc. You can also add whipped cream and other things for toppings.

Ingredients:

* 36 Oreo cookies (the whole package)

* 4 cups Whole milk

* 5 scoops Cookies & cream ice cream or whey protein powder

* 1.5 cups Full-fat Greek yogurt (adds creaminess and 35g+ of protein)

* 4 tbsp Instant cookies & cream (or vanilla) pudding mix

* 1 cup Mini marshmallows

* 1/2 cup Cool Whip (blended right in for texture)

* 2 cups Ice

Step 1.

Pour in all 4 cups of whole milk and spoon in the 1.5 cups of Greek yogurt.

Step 2

Layer on the 5 scoops of protein powder, 4 tbsp of pudding mix, and 1 cup of mini marshmallows and or ice creams

3.Add the cookie mountain:

Dump in 32 of the Oreos (reserve some for crushing on top later) along with the 1/2 cup of Cool Whip and the ice.

4.Pulse, then blend high:

Pulse 5–10 times to break up the dense layer of Oreos so they don't jam the blades. Once moving, blend on high for a full 60 to 90 seconds until perfectly smooth.

If your blades are jamming use more milk at the bottom, heavy cream or whatever liquid you prefer.

As giving and caring a feeder could be, I'd still be relegated to some background presence. Only as good as the food I bring. Only as good as the chores and caretaking I offer.

Each passing day is a success by keeping her in bed. Any ambition snuffed out by a steady snack and meal regimen. Laziness becomes a trait, an identity. You don't "get" to eat in bed all day long. It's who you are. It's what you do.

I want that liberating feeling that every single action I take is turning someone into a blob. I want to strip away all the social grace. She HAS to have food in reach at all times. She HAS to be a bit unpresentable.

Erode her sensibility. There's no guilt to how bad these habits are, because any outside voice has long been silenced and removed. It's not bad that you are overstuffed and still hanging your mouth open when I hand feed you. Who's going to say it's wrong? Who's going to stop you? Who's going to stop me?

It'll all settle once your body eventually makes the decisions for you. It isn't a choice to stay indoors when the thought of lumbering across the house is unthinkable. Any whimsical ideas of going out into the world disappears. Why fantasize about the impossible?

All that's left is to keep eating and growing. The obscene reality that you haven't had a weight plateau in months and years isn't a problem. It's normal to feel your body take up more space in more inconvenient ways. Thighs too heavy for your legs to move. A belly that pins you down. Heavy arms and a heaving chest that dominates your field of vision. Even a neck and face so thickened by fat that you begin to forget what you used to look like.

You didn't think it would come to this, did you?

When I suggested some "pet play", you were probably expecting me to slip a cute little collar around your neck, to pull you around on the end of a leash, and maybe make you bark for me while I use you like my own personal fleshlight...

You had the wrong kind of pet in mind though. I didn't want a cute little puppy or a sweet, gentle kitten... I wanted a pig.

A big...

...fat...

...disgusting hog. One that would oink and squeal for me while I feed them endless snacks and grope their thickening belly paunch. One who wouldn't even notice how tight their clothes are getting because they're too lost in their own gluttony to think about what they're doing to themselves. One who eats until their fullness makes them horny, then allows that horniness to turn into even more hunger, until they're so stuffed that they can barely move...

I didn't think it'd be this easy to turn you into one, though. Honestly, I think you were made for this, fatass. The way the world around you just slips out of focus when I put food in front of you, and doesn't return until you're a grunting, oinking pile of lard on the floor, licking the plate clean after another proud display of gluttony for your owner...

Were you ever really a person, or has this greedy hog within you just been waiting to show itself all along? I don't know why I'm bothering to ask you. I haven't heard you speak in anything but oinks in so long... You're probably too far gone to even hear my words. Nothing more than a greasy, slobbish mess, crawling around at their owner's feet, waiting for their daily slop to chow down on while their fat ass gets fucked from behind.

You're not my partner anymore. You're my pet. My possession. My Hog. Not that Hog remembers ever being slim, or athletic, or disciplined. Hog just knows how useless and pathetic it is now. How disgustingly greedy and animalistic it let me make it. It used to obey a strict diet... Now it just obeys its owner when they slide a stick of butter down their throat and tell it to swallow. Hog is so good at doing as it's told now. Hog is too broken to have any shame any more...

Does it remember how long it used to spend picking out a cute outfit for our dates? How it would fret about looking chubby in its new top, or being too embarrassed to order itself a burger? Thank goodness those days are behind us... My Hog doesn't even think twice when I take it for a walk through town, crawling laboriously on all fours with a leash attached to its collar, its massive curtain of soft belly brushing the ground beneath it as I lead it to bakeries and cafes and restaurants, buying it treats for it to enjoy while passers-by stare at the disgusting, naked pig being paraded around. I don't know if Hog can hear their awful comments over the sound of its belly slapping against each thigh with each step, but maybe its best that Hog doesn't know what a gross and mindless glutton they think it is.

I should feel bad for turning my partner into my own perfect pet hog, but to be honest... I really don't. Because I realised long ago that despite everything, you did all this to yourself. All I did is put the trough in front of you; you ate up all the swill, all by yourself. You saw an opportunity to become such a fucking useless bucket of blubber and you grabbed it, never letting go, even now that you can't move because your gelatinous gut has grown too big and heavy for you to even crawl anymore.

bro…

You're huge

Make me tell you I’m sorry when I break my first chair. Tell me I should be ashamed for how much I let my gluttony affect you. For how much food you “have to” cook for me every meal.

Tell me I need to ask forgiveness for every pair of jeans my belly starts to spill over, for every T-shirt that my growing mass turns into a crop top.

You're incapable of ever going back. You're just like a junkie, addicted to this rush, this high of mindlessly shoving another thousand calories down your throat, while you already know that you'll be gooning for hours after you're done stuffing yourself. You dream of a life free of responsibilities. A life where you can eat and goon all day long, rubbing your brain away until there is too much blubber in the way to even reach your needy pussy. Until you're nothing but a fat, overgrown pile of lard, struggling to get out of bed, struggling to walk a few steps, struggling to take care of herself, struggling to resist sinking deeper.

Poor thing, you really don't know what you've gotten yourself into, you told me what your goals were and I plan on taking you there even if I need to hand feed you myself every single bite. Afterall, what kind of feeder would I be if I don't help my sweet little feedee to pile up pounds of fat onto their frame and reach their wildest dreams? Not a good one that's for sure and I know just how much you wanted me to take advantage of your poor habits and big appetite, darling.

an obese, heaving, hog finally finding a position that gets his dick inside of me, pounding away because it feels sooooo good; he’s sweating profusely, gasping for air because the slightest physical exertion is a danger for him, grunting away without a care for how animalistic he looks, how barbaric he sounds

and me, taking it all, with my head turned to the side as i watch my newest piggy pathetically grind against his palm and whine with desperation, taking another bite from his platter of food, his chubby cheeks flush with embarrassment, aching to get closer while he watches the scene and imagines himself going from a chubby, begging piggy to the filthy, grunting hog before him