seeing you outright mention you have death feedism tendencies is like a shotgun to the chest (positive)
i have a medical phobia thatās somehow twisted itself into death feedism ngl. also, evil feeders. š³
someone hellbent on keeping me as fat as possible for as long as they canāknowing what cocktail of drugs keeps my heart pumping, dumbing me down and keeping me pliant with edibles hidden in my food, waking me up every few hours for feedings and funnel sessions instead of letting me sleep so the weight piles on faster than it should..
somewhere deep down i know itās not good for me. maybe my feeder tells me about all the health problems i have while the feeding tube is in my mouth and i can barely think, but i canāt focus on what theyāre saying without getting overwhelmed. if i donāt remember later, it doesnāt really matter, right?
maybe occasionally iād ācome to my senses,ā during a lull in the feedings. when my feeder is busy and away for a while, after iāve made my way through a small mountain of snacks and the mini fridge (full of shakes laced with THC to keep me docile) is just out of reach. maybe iād try to get up, only to collapse back down because my knee problems finally caught up to me and fuck, it hurts to even try to walk. maybe then iād finally take a look at where i am, how iāve given up my life for someoneās (and my own, letās be real) sick pleasure.
iād have to deal with that realization for a while. maybe iād start to cry, unable to handle the reality. eventually, though, my feeder would come back. theyād find me in this state and console me, getting the funnel ready because they can hear my stomach rumbling and itās been too long since iāve eaten. theyāll coo into my ear about how itās all okay, how i asked for this and itās what we both want.
theyād give my belly a shake, grasping the lowest roll in their hands and enjoying the way it makes my entire body wobble. theyād press a kiss onto the vast expanse of fat above my belly button, an area they were so excited to see expand under their care. theyād struggle a bit to lift one of my tits, eager to see how my breath hitches at the thought of their mouth on me. these are all distractions. theyāve mastered this game of manipulation and thereās no way iād be able to find my way out of their control. their touch, the food they offer me, even those moments when iām not high or in a haze of fullness and pleasure, were meant to further ensnare me and ensure iām theirs for as long as i live.
my health, my life, is in my feederās hands. they know whatās best. as long as i keep eating, keep taking the pills they hand me, keep ignoring how hard it is to move and breathe, it will all be fine. or, thatās what iād tell myself.
stormborns
kaledo-art
titsay
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
