Look how fat my belly is getting! I think I was truly meant to be a fat mindless pig, the pounds just keep piling on. I was trying to lose some weight but I feel like I’m just hopelessly addicted to food at this point. I’m constantly hungry and every time someone comments about how much I’ve gained all I want to do is shove more food into my mouth. My ask is always open for teasing/humiliation/questions! Bonus points if you can guess my weight! I’m 5'1".
Or “fattened up.” It just seems so… I don’t know, like the subject of said fattening is owned and is meant to be fat. You’d fatten up an animal, for example. So saying you’re fattening up your girlfriend or whatever just has this air of dominance about it. Like she’s a hog waiting to do her duty and grow for you.
I wanna be fattened up.
Exactly this. I want to be fattened up into someone’s massive piggy and humiliated for getting so obese.
immobility is hot but also like girls who are barely mobile? girls who struggle to get out of bed, waddling a few steps at a time before needing to pause to catch their breath and pull their shirt out of their rolls, collapsing in a heap on the couch to stuff themselves, watching their belly sag every closer to the ground, not knowing if this will be the last time they can make the journey by themselves? also extremely hot
I’m still adjusting to the small jump in weight from the past couple of months. The subtly altered dimensions, and things like actually feeling that my face is fatter, take some getting used to. I’m not eating as much as I was then, but still enough to keep from losing weight. That’s intentional, because I know full well from past experience that the longer I keep on a recent gain, the more normal the extra fat will feel.. as in, it won’t feel like a gain, it’ll just feel like me, like my normal body. That way I know I won’t be won’t losing it, and if I don’t lose it, then it’ll be a foundation for any future gaining.
I sometimes have strong fantasies of developing a food addiction. Thinking of food, having to eat more just to feel satisfied, wanting to eat when I’m not hungry, and getting hungry again much sooner even after eating a lot. Going from having almost no cravings and a strong willpower to craving more fatty and sweet things like never before, and the loss of willpower to resist those cravings. Feeling powerless as food takes up more of my day and life. Needing to eat, needing to snack, needing to sometimes binge and not being able to stop myself. Becoming a helpless slave to my own appetite.
It’d be both a blessing and a curse. Of course it’s also a little scary to think of being that out of control, and knowing that unknown amounts of weight gain would be inevitable. And not being sure if it could be undone if I later had regrets. Yet I fantasize of a feeder knowing just how to make it happen, like, “If you stick to my diet for x months, I promise you won’t ever be able to stop eating afterward. You’ll always remain a good little fat food addict, just the way I want you. All you have to do is let it happen and embrace your food-filled future.”
I’m having one of those days where I’m obsessed with the idea of being kidnapped by a sadistic feeder and fattened up until I can’t walk, where I’m just one massive, jiggling pile of blubber existing only to eat and keep getting fatter for them. To be forced to keep gaining weight no matter how much I beg or cry, to see new rolls added all over my body everyday, to be a wheezing, sweating pig like I know I’m meant to be.
-To make my belly hang over my knees, and then eventually drag along the floor so it’s out of my reach, covered in stretchmarks and infinite rolls
-To condition me to cum from being stuffed so I always need to be filled to cum
-To make me too fat to masturbate so I’m reliant on them or just trying to hump my own flesh to feel something
-To make use of all the new rolls and folds of fat they’ve added to me, fucking them instead of my pussy and making sure I’m trained to get pleasure from that
-To not let me stop gaining until I’m as big as they want me, even if I resist, because they want me to look like a circus fat lady
-To make me so huge I’m forced to waddle around when I can still move, every part of me jiggling just for their enjoyment and amusement, out of breath and sweaty just from walking across the room
-To only be allowed to wear clothes that are slightly too small and be forbidden from doing anything that tries to hide my fat from view, if my belly doesn’t stay in my shirt I’ll have to just let it show, every humiliating inch of cellulite-ridden flab visible
-To be made to display my gluttony for all to see in public whenever my feeder wants, eating enough for 5 people and putting my body on display in crop tops and tight shorts
-To be tied down and force fed with a funnel if I’m not cooperative, because I’m going to keep getting fatter whether I want to or not.
-To be forced to eat until I can barely move and have to use a scooter to get around, especially in public so everyone can see the consequences of what I’ve done to myself
-To make fun of me and humiliate me as much as possible so I can never forget what I’ve become, a waddling wheezing blob of lard whose only purpose is to get fatter and fatter
Blame me for your weight gain. I did this to you. I made you eat everything, every day, nonstop. Whisper in my ear how it’s my fault for turning you into an obese, blubbery, doughy fat ass. Tell me that my encouragement is the reason for your extra 30, 40, 50 pounds. Blame me for your obesity. Blame me for your massive thighs and pillowy arms. Blame me for 3XL shirts that will be snug in about a month. Blame me for soft fat that bounces at the slightest touch and sits between your huge thighs. Blame me for your breathlessness and insatiable appetite
Open up. Tip your head back for me. Now, stop struggling. I know you don’t like the funnel at first, but you always like it once it makes your gut nice and tight, don’t you?
I’m going to have you nice and stuffed while I play with you. No, I won’t untie your hands for that. You should know that by now. There, that’s better. Good piggy.
Your feed is coming down the tube for you now piggy, get ready to swallow. Oh, good piggy. Such a good piggy. I’ll strap that funnel tight so you can’t slip it out of your mouth like you did the last time.
Spread your legs for me, and turn your hips to the side. I want to reach into your fat and touch you.
All this stuffing has given you such a huge, fat belly, hasn’t it? Look at you, sitting there with your fat gut. I love how your flab sits on the bed between your legs, piggy. I love to watch you grow. Calm down. I’ll help you. I’ll lift your huge gut to help you turn your hips for me. There.
That’s right, keep swallowing. Concentrate on sucking your feed down while I touch you.
Oh, you like that, don’t you? I love to hear you grunt and groan like a good piggy. I love to hear how frustrated you get when it’s up to me to decide when you get to come. Because I know that’s all you want when your gut gets stuffed like this, piggy. That’s what got you into this situation in the first place, isn’t it?
I did say you would be allowed to leave after spending a year with me. It’s not my fault you couldn’t fit through the door.
