My biggest fantasy is to turn someone (you?🤭) into my perfect fatty.
I want to condition you to become addicted to gaining fat. Setting you weight gain goals before I let you cum, and edging you while you eat.✨
Corrupting you to enjoy more and more depraved, twisted things. Keeping you as a perpetual horny mess for me.✨
It doesn’t matter if you initially only wanted to gain a bit. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to keep feeding you till your heart gives out.✨
I want it all, to care for you, cook for you, feed you. But mainly, I want to turn a curious “little” boy/girl into a pampered fatty that got too fat to function.✨
not in the fun flirty way. i mean actually, literally, take me apart. feed me until i can't walk without waddling, until breathing feels like a chore, until my body is nothing but soft, heavy proof of your obsession. i want to be swollen with indulgence, stuffed past reason, spoiled beyond recognition.
i want to wake up in a haze of hunger and syrup-sweet affection, only to be greeted by another round of force-fed breakfasts in bed. i want you to look at me like i'm your prize pig, your project, your possession.
i want the teasing, the pressure, the constant, creeping growth. i want the way you’ll sneer when i say i’m full, the way you’ll smile when the scale creaks louder every day. I want your hands everywhere, greedy and proud, shaping me like clay into exactly what you want.
no escape. no diet. no mercy. Just feed me.
i want to be broken—beautifully, thoroughly—by appetite.
i want to be yours in the most obscene way possible. a thing you keep fattened, pampered, and pumped full of calories until i’m unrecognizable. until i'm helpless. until my body is a bloated, quivering monument to your obsession and my surrender.
don’t just feed me. force me. hold me down and pour milkshakes past my lips until i’m whining and leaking and begging you to stop, even as my gut growls for more. make me cry from fullness, then coo in my ear about how proud you are. tell me i was made to be this soft, this greedy, this round.
push me to the brink. watch me struggle to lift myself from the bed you’ve made my prison. slap the side of my belly and laugh when it jiggles for seconds after. make me wear tight clothes just so you can watch them give out, seams snapping like they’ve finally admitted defeat.
you said you wanted a pig? then feed me like one. treat me like one. no dignity, no limits. spoon after spoon, bite after bite, until i’m gasping and drooling and too heavy to fight you. make me need you to eat, to move, to breathe.
make me forget who i was before you turned me into this.
just a swollen, spoiled, overfed mess made for your pleasure.
need someone to invite me to their place with a secret agenda to get me so overly stuffed that I can hardly breathe or move. then proceed to fvck me silly once that food coma starts to hit.. id feel so helpless 💕
The only thing you want to do is be forcefully tied to a large bed while your feeder brings you copious amounts of food for weeks, months, even years. You just want to watch your body slowly blow up like a calorie filled sack. Your feeder making you stuff yourself endlessly every day until your belly grows so absolutely enormous you can’t see your fat swollen feet anymore. You want to be so riddled with fat that you can’t possibly heave yourself over without help. Your ass weighing you down along with your cellulite stuffed thighs. All you want is to be a useless eating machine gorging non stop until your arms are so heavy you can’t even bring them to your fat engorged face leaving your feeder no choice but to strap a tube into your pathetic hog mouth and fill you like a human balloon. You also know the consequences of eating like a pig and you don’t care. You just want to be helplessly obese even if your heart struggles to pump. You just want to be fed, rubbed, and played with.
Come here, my sweet, waddling darlings… Let me turn those chubby little bodies into living monuments of pure gluttony, all for me.
Give yourselves to me completely. Trade every “maybe tomorrow” for another 5,000-calorie night. Trade every worried glance at the scale for my proud little kiss on your forehead when the numbers climb higher than ever.
I’ll feed you the greasiest, richest, most fattening things imaginable: melted butter by the cup, pizza stacked on pizza, cakes that collapse under their own frosting. Every bite will taste like love, like lust, like the slow, delicious surrender you’ve been craving.
And yes… the pleasure. I’ll climb your growing mountains every single night, lips on every new roll, hips rocking slow while I whisper how perfect you look swollen and helpless beneath me. You’ll finish stuffed, spent, and smiling, knowing you earned every second of it.
But it’s more than the hot moments, piggy.
When you’re 600… 700… 800 lbs, when the world gets hard, when chairs break and doorways shrink and your own arms can’t reach around that glorious belly anymore… I’ll still be right here.
I’ll wash the places you can’t reach. I’ll lift what needs lifting. I’ll change the sheets soaked from sweat and pleasure. I’ll hold the funnel at 3 AM when your only job is to swallow and moan my name. I’ll kiss the aches, rub the stretch marks, and tell you over and over that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Being massive is heavy, love… but you’ll never carry it alone.
You’re my piggy. My treasure. My forever project and my forever home.
I will love you, feed you, spoil you, and grow you endlessly fat, every single day, for the rest of our lives.
So take the next bite. Open wider. Let the plate empty and the belly stretch.
Give yourself to me, sweet hog… and I’ll make the rest of your life one long, greasy, loved-up dream.
A little disclaimer: This is just a fantasy post made "purely" for entertainment. I do not recommend doing this IRL… or do I? Don't care :D
By "ruined," I mean gaining a ton of weight, losing all your fitness, dropping braincells, and turning your entire life into a nonstop hedonistic binge.
Minimize Movement: Don't move a muscle unless you absolutely have to. Set up your life so you never leave the bed if possible - switch to online classes, work remotely, or better yet, find a feeder to bring you food and handle all the boring adult stuff. Move your bed right next to the door or bathroom to cut down on those pesky steps. Rule of thumb - fewer steps mean more flab. This'll cause you to lose muscle mass and strength super quick, so you'll get exhausted from the tiniest activity and spend even more time lounging around, packing on the pounds like the lazy sow you aspire to be.
Track Your Calories: Count those calories, but make it brain-dead easy - no thinking required. Download an app that lets you just select your food and it counts everything up. Set your goal to double your current weight in three years - the app will tell you exactly how many calories to shove in daily. Bonus if you've got a feeder doing it for you. If you miss your daily quota? No cumming the next day, or double up on the eats. That'll turn you into a calorie-obsessed piglet who lives for that stuffed feeling.
Always Be Snacking: Keep snacks on you at all times - bags of chips, candy, energy drinks, or shakes. The second you're not eating a main meal, start munching. Aim for a perpetually full stomach. Pro tip for the extreme pervs: Hold off eating until afternoon so your body thinks it's starving and hoards more fat. Or gorge late at night when your metabolism is the slowest.
Guzzle Sugary Drinks: Chug high-calorie liquids nonstop - sodas, milkshakes, energy drinks, whatever packs the most empty calories without effort. Keep a stash by your bed and sip constantly - it'll bloat you up, spike your sugar addiction, and make you even lazier since you don't have to chew. Why bother with solid food when you can slurp your way to obesity?
Eat Unhealthily: Yeah, it's cliché, but feedees should live on fast food - burgers, pizza, fries every damn day. It's insanely addictive - once your body craves that greasy hit nightly, the pounds will pile on like nothing. You're not a health nut - you're a junk-food junkie.
Smoke Weed: Light up that green! If smoking's not your vibe, go for a weed pen or edibles. This stuff makes you dumber, hungrier, and hornier - tailor-made for perverted pigs like you. Don't even get me started on building a dependency - it'll have you munching mindlessly while your brain turns to mush.
Ignore Your Health and Body Signals: Tune out any pain, fatigue, or doctor's warnings - those are just your body whining about the fun we're having. Push past fullness, ignore heartburn. Focus on the instant pleasure of indulgence - long-term consequences? Who cares when you're living the hedonistic dream? Keep going until you're a wheezing, waddling mess - adorable!
Link Sex with Eating: Wire your brain to associate sexual pleasure with stuffing your face. Every feedee I know who gets wet/hard just from food, is enormous - why? Eating turns them on, leading to more edging and more eating in a vicious, delicious cycle. Achieve this by edging or pleasuring yourself every time you eat, and never edge without food nearby. It's a total mindfuck, but perfect for turning you into a food-obsessed fuckpig who can't tell the difference between hunger and horniness.
Build a Food Addiction: Link eating to every emotion - not just sex. Bored? Stuff it down with a burger. Sad? Ice cream binge. Happy? Celebrate with cake. Angry? Eat fries to calm down. Make food your go-to for everything, so when life hits hard (like a breakup), your first instinct is to gorge - and get ridiculously aroused in the process.
Watch Tons of Porn: Dive deep into porn, especially feedism stuff on Tumblr, Twitter, DA, or wherever. Consume and interact with the kink constantly to normalize obese bodies in your brain. You want to reach the point where gaining for fetish feels totally normal. Plus, porn's more addictive than heroin - spend your days jerking off instead of exercising or thinking straight. Waste away into a porn-addicted blob.
Only Edge: No full orgasms for lazy pigs who can still get out of bed - you haven't earned it! Seriously though, edging is insanely pleasurable, prolongs the fun, and builds addiction. It also prevents that post-nut clarity where you might regret your life choices. I edge all day and finish late at night - your goal is waking up horny and needing that dopamine hit from touching yourself first thing. Bonus: Gooning - sexualize your own addiction to porn and edging until you're a drooling mess.
Follow Softcore on Your Normie Socials: On your regular social media, start following softcore porn, mukbangs, plus-size models, or ideally plus-size porn stars. It'll trigger more edging while normalizing obesity and gaining. Soon, scrolling Instagram will make you crave calories.
Experiment with Hypnosis or Audio Files: Dive into weight gain hypno audios or files designed for this kink. Listen daily to reprogram your mind into craving expansion, laziness, and submission. It'll amplify the mental conditioning, making you dumber and more obedient to your urges.
Get Dumber: I adore bimboification, but this isn't just my kink - being stupider is great for gainers! Someone who doesn't think, plan, or question gets fattened way past their limits easily. Flunk out of school, forget responsibilities. Focus only on food, weed, porn, sex, or your phone screen. If a thought strays from gaining? Shut it down. Plan nothing but your next meal.
Create Rituals: Build daily habits, like weighing yourself just for the thrill of seeing the numbers climb, or snapping progress pics for the community. Make stuffing sessions sacred events with specific snacks and porn. These rituals reinforce the hedonism, turning gaining into a worshipful routine.
Join the Community: Nothing motivates a gainer like hundereds of anonymous profiles urging you to get fatter. Believe it or not, the internet's full of pervs cheering on your self-destruction - some even pay for it! Start an OnlyFans, Fansly, or whatever, and monetize your body. Ideally, let it replace your job.
Corrupt Others: Spread the kink! Talking to someone unsure about gaining? Tell them how amazing it feels and push them to start. Friend scared of hitting 300 lbs? Shove 'em over the edge. Buddy worried his girlfriend won't gain? Assure him she secretly wants it. The more people you drag into this with you, the better you'll feel - misery loves company.
Cut Off Non-Supporters: Family, friends, partners who don't cheer your gaining? Ditch 'em. The internet has thousands who'd love to chat, adore you, and encourage your immobility. If they truly cared, they'd support your piggy path - you know it. Surround yourself with enablers only.
not in the fun flirty way. i mean actually, literally, take me apart. feed me until i can't walk without waddling, until breathing feels like a chore, until my body is nothing but soft, heavy proof of your obsession. i want to be swollen with indulgence, stuffed past reason, spoiled beyond recognition.
i want to wake up in a haze of hunger and syrup-sweet affection, only to be greeted by another round of force-fed breakfasts in bed. i want you to look at me like i'm your prize pig, your project, your possession.
i want the teasing, the pressure, the constant, creeping growth. i want the way you’ll sneer when i say i’m full, the way you’ll smile when the scale creaks louder every day. I want your hands everywhere, greedy and proud, shaping me like clay into exactly what you want.
no escape. no diet. no mercy. Just feed me.
i want to be broken—beautifully, thoroughly—by appetite.
i want to be yours in the most obscene way possible. a thing you keep fattened, pampered, and pumped full of calories until i’m unrecognizable. until i'm helpless. until my body is a bloated, quivering monument to your obsession and my surrender.
don’t just feed me. force me. hold me down and pour milkshakes past my lips until i’m whining and leaking and begging you to stop, even as my gut growls for more. make me cry from fullness, then coo in my ear about how proud you are. tell me i was made to be this soft, this greedy, this round.
push me to the brink. watch me struggle to lift myself from the bed you’ve made my prison. slap the side of my belly and laugh when it jiggles for seconds after. make me wear tight clothes just so you can watch them give out, seams snapping like they’ve finally admitted defeat.
you said you wanted a pig? then feed me like one. treat me like one. no dignity, no limits. spoon after spoon, bite after bite, until i’m gasping and drooling and too heavy to fight you. make me need you to eat, to move, to breathe.
make me forget who i was before you turned me into this.
just a swollen, spoiled, overfed mess made for your pleasure.
The only thing you want to do is be forcefully tied to a large bed while your feeder brings you copious amounts of food for weeks, months, even years. You just want to watch your body slowly blow up like a calorie filled sack. Your feeder making you stuff yourself endlessly every day until your belly grows so absolutely enormous you can’t see your fat swollen feet anymore. You want to be so riddled with fat that you can’t possibly heave yourself over without help. Your ass weighing you down along with your cellulite stuffed thighs. All you want is to be a useless eating machine gorging non stop until your arms are so heavy you can’t even bring them to your fat engorged face leaving your feeder no choice but to strap a tube into your pathetic hog mouth and fill you like a human balloon. You also know the consequences of eating like a pig and you don’t care. You just want to be helplessly obese even if your heart struggles to pump. You just want to be fed, rubbed, and played with.
As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)
Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!
--
He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.
The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.
Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.
This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.
He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.
Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.
That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.
--
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.
He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."
"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."
There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.
--
It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.
He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.
The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.
As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."
He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."
The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.
"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."
Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."
"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.
"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.
"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."
"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.
"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."
"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."
He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"
"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."
The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."
As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.
--
He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.
But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.
Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.
One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."
"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.
"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."
And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.
--
It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.
As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."
"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.
"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.
"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?
The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."
They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."
He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.
It was a look of love.
And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.
--
His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?
No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.
And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.
All you want is to be forced to lay in bed for weeks, months, or even years just to watch your body slowly grow bigger and bigger while your feeder continues to bring you plates upon plates of snacks, meals, and all kinds of desserts. You would have to be propped up so you dont suffocate under all of your new found mass. Then after recklessly consuming millions of calories you would no longer be able to see passed your enormous mountain of a belly. Your arms would steadily grow heavier and heavier until they lay useless along with your fat filled legs. Your only job would be stuffing your face for your feeders satisfaction until you can no longer lift your arms to your fat engorged face. You want to rely on them for everything. You know without them you wouldnt even be able to survive after growing so fat that you cant even walk. But you love it.
🟢UNDERSTANDS AND EMPHASIZES THE IMPORTANCE OF CONSENT.
🟢 Knows the difference between “feedism” and “feederism”
🟢 Understands and respects boundaries and hard limits. Will not (without consent) push you further than you are truly comfortable with and will not get mad/angry when you use safe words during play
🟢 Has a willingness to establish safe words and other protocols to ensure you stay comfortable and safe during play
🟢 Has done research and understands the complexity of size discrimination and fat politics
🟢 Is a vocal advocate for the rights and equality of fat folks and other marginalized groups
🟢 When planning dates and outings, they take the time to plan the most comfortable route and accommodations for their larger partner. (restaurants with space and no booths, travel accommodations like taking uber instead of walking, buying extra seats on airplanes, etc)
🟢 Worships your growing body but also adores you and your body outside of the context of kink.
🟢 Sees you as a person first and not a sex toy. Values your opinions, hobbies, perspective. Appreciates your humanity and makes you YOU.
🟢 Constantly shows you how appreciative they are of your choice to participate in this kink
🟢 Values and protects the trust you have placed in them. (not sharing private photos, not using language that makes you self conscious, etc)
🟢 Occasionally pays for meals/stuffing sessions. And/or contributes to your meals and gain when possible.
🟢 Understands that being an online feeder/encourager does not by default offer the same privilege and authority as being an irl feeder/encourager. (There’s only so much you can realistically demand for through a screen)
🟢 Is aware of trendy plus size brands and clothing options that will accommodate their partner’s size
🟢 Follows fat people on social media (not to fetishize but to have a diverse social media experience)
🟢 HAS IRL FAT FRIENDS
🟢 Respects the limits to your gain and will not pressure you to gain more (without consent)
🟢 Stays aware and respectful of teasing and comments made about your gain in relation to your gender expression. Avoids triggering language and gender based teasing when there is no consent
🟢 Respects sex workers
—————————————————————-
There’s tons more so please feel free to add folks!
