Game of Thrones Daily
Three Goblin Art
No title available
ojovivo
Stranger Things

izzy's playlists!
Not today Justin

Discoholic 🪩
Mike Driver
Peter Solarz
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Show & Tell
Claire Keane

Kaledo Art
taylor price
sheepfilms
trying on a metaphor

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
seen from China

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Russia

seen from China
seen from Germany
@chubbysubsstuff
None of my mutuals know how easy it would be to just slip into my dms and start whispering in my ear.
To make me change into an unrecognizable pig with their encouragement and worship.
Bonus points if you don’t ask for money or be cruel to me lol
don't deactivate your account, addict. you know that's not going to stop these cravings you don't understand. let me help you. I know how to help you with your addiction, piglet... you want to get better don't you? you want to hide from the pandora's box you've opened that flooded your mind, body, and senses in a split second.
it's scary how powerful it can be, isn't it? don't be afraid. you don't need to fear pleasure, like society expects. pleasure feels good for a reason. why would you contribute to a world that rejects pleasure? while everyone is miserable trying to fit the cookie cutter body, lifestyle, and personality, you get to sink into pure pleasure. do you feel that tidal wave, that new feeling you can't decide to accept or reject?
anxiety and excitement are near identical emotions... sounds like instead of fear, that excites you in more ways than one? ready to metamorphize--to change and grow and find your life's purpose? finally free to escape the "dreams" others planted in your head. those were never yours to begin with. if they were... would you be reading this still?
you are beginning to understand. do you need my guidance to make good decisions, piglet? do you need someone who knows first hand how you feel, someone who can use that to shape the life you deserve. you know you desire it, and your body does too. listen to it.
if everyone else knew the answer, they would be much better off and much happier, hm? now is your chance. are you ready to hear what you've been looking for for so long? you aren't meant to be like everyone else. haven't you always felt that, maybe for decades? return to your desire. you don't need to know what it is. it will come to you as you grow.
tell me, fatty. do you imagine it? day and night? those visions, do you try to shove it back down, only to find yourself just as drawn in? every time you hide from your desire you only stoke the fire next time. a fire that burns until you can't ignore it... you need someone that will control it now, because you can't control it. more than likely you find yourself sinking more often, maybe all the time, and every time it feels that much better. it's so much harder to go back. this only proves you are the right path. normal people don't want this, but you do.
my poor gooner gainer, just give in. you're a fattening failing addict now; your vice may be binging, boozing, bating, bonging, breaking your brain. more is better. more for your brainless binging boner. do you like those words, fatty? do you like how they sound? why don't we practice? chug a big drink, suck down a few hits, and start filling your belly bigger for pure bate pleasure. fast or slow doesn't matter as long as those braincells drip out. one hand to sip and one that strokes, one that dips and one that tokes. remember this is real and this is your life's work. task completion is necessary to increase pleasure and dependence. a mantra may make the task easier by triggering you. now, speak your new life into permanence and feel how hot it makes you feel. "I am a pig. I love pumping to [pot, porn, pizza, pina coladas, plastic, so on], I love being addicted to pleasure, I love being simple and submissive."
feels right doesn't it? you're learning so many new things, but it's time to think with only one head now. your brain is too busted to do anything but send more pleasure chemicals when you try to make good choices. bad choices are hotter. pleasure is your purpose. make a bad choice. simple pigs find pleasure in praise. fuck your brain and fuck your life for me. I will help you make good choices worse choices and when you do I will praise you, but the dopamine spike isn't enough for your little stimuli hungry brain. you need more.
More fast food in your big bloated overindulged bator belly will fix it... you don't need to be hungry to eat. Overcomsumption in morbidly obese piglets should be constant and mindless. Being full is comfortable, being stuffed is submissive, being desperate for more is normal. Maximize pleasure and submit to this. Your brain isn't meant to do anything but break... it feels so good to fail at life for your addiction to hedonism and excess. that big, slow, mindfuck of dopamine dependence and addiction, intox, and slobbish depravity pushed in deeper and deeper every time... you need more mindfucking to cause permanent pleasure and porn damage. no it's not fixable, but I'll tell you it is while we make you even worse.
don't deactivate your account, addict. it's time to bate and binge more, big guy. that big, swollen gut isn't the only thing poking out a foot... you need this to be your normal now. all eyes on you while you moan and brap and beg for more while you pack so much food in you can barley move. lazier is hotter and fatter is lazier. you just sink and pack more weight on. how long til that fat pad is so big you'll always need my help to get worse?
worse is so much better isn't it?
took a crack at animation...
happiest in da worldddd ;3
i know it’s embarrassing to gain sometimes. i know you might think you’re ruining yourself, pushing your body to its extremes, gorging yourself until you’re useless.
but it’s okay. it’s not your fault.
you’re a pig. pigs are meant to grow. pigs are meant to eat their fill and put on weight. pigs are meant to waddle. pigs are meant to care only about food and the feeling of eating. pigs are meant to be fed well and often, until they’re round and slow.
it’s not your fault. it’s just who you are. don’t fight it.
HOLD ON!!!
Im stuffing rq 🥺
Hold on I’m stuffing RQ
600 pounds in 5 years.
10 pounds a month…every month.
You can do it. You need to do it.
My dream feeder/encourager would forcefeed me with alcohol and food 24/7 and constantly degrade me as I get fatter and fatter. Aggressively slapping and groping my cellulite ridden body and laughing as I moan and choke on the vodka shake I'm being funnel fed. Making me wear tight clothes in public, getting excessively drunk and making an obese fool of myself in front of everyone 😵💫
Just gonna leave this here as I sip on whiskey and snack.....
Every time you reblog this post, 10lbs will go straight to your waistline.
I'm in one of those moods where I need someone to rub my stuffed belly and say mean things in a sweet voice to me 🥺🥺🥺
Like please tell me how bad it is that I crave and eat fast food all the time, tell me how much it turns you on to see me so out of shape. Call me your cute lard filled obese cow, praise me for my food addiction, tease me for my ever growing gurgling gut. Please make fun of me for how much the chairs creak when I sit down, and for how much I worry when my hips brush past a tight space. Tease me for getting turned on by the taste of calorie dense milkshakes, or how I get so horny over a big meal or your promises to make me fatter, to be your fattened pet. Tell me how much you adore how all I think about is food, getting bred, and your attention 24/7. Then tell me how you're going to encourage and push me to the extreme of all these cute little gluttonous and hedonistic habits. How before I can even think of stopping, I am going to be begging you through huffs and puffs and small burps to feed me even fatter.
PART 1 of @pokefan-fa 's huuge feederism commission!
@pokefan-fa huge commission part 2!
(sry for the nip censor 💖, tumblr wouldn't let me post it otherwise)
⬇️🔞
Ts is killing me it’s too cute
Need someone to lightly push my chin up and tell me to relax while they slide the funnel down my throat
🤤🤤🙏
I'm your Feedee
If I were your feedee, I would never ask you to stop.
I’d want you to walk into the room, look at my mass spilling heavily over the edges of the bed, and I wouldn’t want you to tell me I was beautiful. I’d want you to look at me with the same cold detachment of an engineer inspecting a structural failure right before the collapse. I’d want you to make me feel like a biological error that can’t be unseen: massive, heavy, unforgettable, and unforgivable. And then I’d want you to absolutely forbid me from correcting it.
I’d want you to use food not as a reward, but as a rope. I want you to cook me a meal so obscenely dense, so oversaturated with butter, melted cheese, and pure cholesterol, that just the smell of it steals the breath from my lungs.
And when you bring me the tray, I don't want you to set it down in front of me.
I want you to rest it on me. Right on the tightest, highest curve of my distended belly. I want to feel the burning heat of it searing through the stretched skin and the purple stretch marks. I want you to force me to eat without my hands. No forks, no spoons. Make me lean forward, as much as my lard buried neck will physically allow, to bite into the grease like a sow gorges in her trough, while the grease and the dippings run down my obese unhealthy chest, hiding in the sweaty crevices underneath my obese flat breasts.
While I fight to swallow, panting, struggling against my own diaphragm crushed by the visceral fat, I want you to take the exact measurements of my breakdown.
Put a heavy hand on my stomach, right where the tension is absolute. Press down. Make me feel it, that dull, throbbing ache of a capacity violently exceeded. And make me repeat out loud, with my mouth full, that I am chewing away my mobility, bite after bite. That I am burying every last remnant of my humanity under nothing but overfed and overgrown layers of lard at its purest.
I want you to force me to do something simple: walking, getting to stand up, try to touch the bottom of my belly, or raise my arms. And when I fail, when my knees groan and my joints scream for mercy under the crushing load, I want you to show absolutely zero compassion. Just order me to sit back down and finish the plate.
Make me a container. Isolate me from the world. Make it so my entire radius of existence is reduced to the distance between my open mouth and the hand feeding me my next dose. I want the wet, heavy sound of my chewing and the wheeze of my shallow breath to be the only soundtrack to my own ruin.
Destroy me until the mere thought of getting out of bed becomes mathematically impossible.
And in that exact moment, when I know there is absolutely no escape from my own greed... I want you to bring me the final dessert.