FancyPiglet

Hi guys! I'm Fancy Piglet🐷, I'm a 22F gainer that wants to become massive and morbidly obese. Height: 152 cm/5 feet SW: 130 lbs CW: 230 lbs GW: 400+ lbs. Curvage: https://curvage.org/forum/index.php?/profile/363369-fancypiglet/ Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/u/FancyPiglet_/s/h97taAHz2O

[fancypiglet]

About Me :)

Hi… Welcome to the show of the Fancy Piglet! I love to show myself like the pig I am and for you to tell me how much of a fat pig I am, don’t feel scared to interact!

I’m 22 years old.

I’m 152 cm tall.

I weigh 230 pounds.

I’m a Curvage model, and I’m still growing.

I’m new here on Tumblr, so please be gentle with me.

I won’t show my face. I like a little mystery. I like being seen… but not completely known.

I love makeup. I love sitting in front of the mirror, taking my time, brushing powder over my cheeks, lining my lips carefully, making myself look soft and pretty. I love feeling delicate and polished.

And then… I eat.

I don’t mean to lose control. It just happens.

The sweetness, the warmth, the comfort… it pulls at me. And I let it.

I’m very submissive. I like being guided. Encouraged. Watched. I like feeling small in willpower and big in body. There’s something dark and comforting about surrendering like that. About letting myself soften and expand.

The prettier I make myself, the heavier I feel underneath it.

The softer my smile, the rounder my waist becomes.

It’s such a strange, beautiful contrast.

I write about this a lot. Sometimes it feels like poetry. Sometimes like a confession whispered late at night. I’m fascinated by how desire changes the brain… how craving can feel so sweet and so overwhelming at the same time.

I study the mind. I love art. I adore music and dancing. I enjoy programming and learning how things work. But here… I let myself feel.

I enjoy the extreme edges of growth. The fullness. The slow surrender. The way appetite gets louder and discipline gets quieter.

What you’ll find here:

• Feedism (I’m a feedee, and I lean towards the darker side of feedism)

• Encouragement and teasing

• Pet themes (pig / hucow)

• Bondage

• Pregnancy themes

• Bellies

• Contrast

• Humiliation and praise

• Inflation

• ⁠Bimbo Girl

• ⁠Submissive

• ⁠Immobility

• ⁠Slob

• ⁠Praising

• ⁠Death Feederism

• ⁠And probably others, I am constantly discovering new stuff I love and enjoy.

I love being pretty.

I love being soft.

I love being bigger than I was before.

And I don’t really have control with food.

18+ only.

Please, no minors.

Other places you can find me:

feabie: FancyPiglet

reddit: u/FancyPiglet_

curvage: FancyPiglet

Feel free to DM but I don’t answer quickly! Please DO NOT send nudes without permission.

I also do customs, stuffings and much more.

I hope you enjoy this fat overfed pig, with more belly than anything, super submissive, who loves to be dominated and “used”, teased, humiliated… who loves to eat, and wants to be able to experience in real life stuff and to feel like what she wants to feel… a Fat overfed piggy.

[fancypiglet]

You watched me take another bite of chocolate, smiling like we both knew it was never going to be just one. Every piece melted on my tongue while your eyes stayed fixed on my soft belly, already imagining how much fuller you could make me.

[fancypiglet]

You made me wear the blouse because you already knew it wouldn’t fit.

The buttons strained across my belly before you even started feeding me, tiny gaps of skin showing between them. Every time I begged you to stop, you only smiled and lifted another bite to my mouth.

“Look at you,” you whispered. “Too greedy for your own clothes.”

My stomach pushed harder against the fabric until the first button shot across the room. Then another followed, leaving my swollen belly spilling through the blouse while you laughed at what I’d become.

“You didn’t outgrow it,” you said, pressing one last bite to my lips. “You ate your way out of it.”

Inspired by my new Curvage video

[fancypiglet]

You held the blouse out in front of me like it was a challenge.

I recognized it immediately. It used to fit me perfectly, back when my stomach stayed hidden beneath the fabric and the buttons closed without a fight. Now, just looking at it made my cheeks burn.

“Put it on,” you said.

I tried to argue that it wouldn’t fit, but the look on your face made it clear that was exactly why you had chosen it.

I slowly pulled it over my arms. The fabric tightened around my body before I had even reached the buttons. Closing the first few was easy enough, but the lower I went, the harder I had to pull the two sides together.

By the time I reached my stomach, I had to suck myself in.

The final buttons barely slipped through their holes. They sat stretched across my belly, surrounded by little gaps of exposed skin. Every breath pushed them forward, threatening to pull the blouse apart.

You smiled as you ran a finger beneath the tightest one.

“Perfect.”

Then you guided me to the sofa and placed a plate in front of me.

I already knew what you wanted.

You fed me slowly at first, watching every bite disappear between my lips. Each time I swallowed, your eyes dropped toward my stomach, waiting for the blouse to react.

It didn’t take long.

The fabric began pressing harder against me. My belly grew heavier and rounder beneath it, forcing the buttons to strain further apart. The tiny gaps between them widened until you could see the soft curve of my stomach pushing through.

I reached down nervously, but you moved my hands away.

“No hiding it.”

You lifted another bite to my mouth.

I opened obediently.

The pressure became impossible to ignore. The blouse dug into my sides, and the lowest button looked like it was hanging on by a thread. I shifted beneath your stare, feeling my full stomach push forward every time I moved.

“You used to fit into this,” you teased.

I nodded.

“And now?”

Before I could answer, you pressed another bite to my lips.

I swallowed it, and my belly expanded against the blouse again.

The lowest button snapped.

It shot across the room so suddenly that I gasped, leaving a wide opening over the bottom of my stomach. My soft belly spilled through it immediately, finally free from some of the pressure.

You laughed softly, but you weren’t finished.

The next button was still holding.

Barely.

You kept feeding me, one deliberate bite after another, until my stomach felt impossibly full. The blouse was pulled so tightly across me that every seam seemed to tremble.

Then I took one deeper breath.

The second button flew.

The blouse burst open across the roundest part of my belly, exposing the swollen curve you had been watching grow all evening.

You placed your hand over it, feeling its weight while I sat there flushed and defeated, surrounded by the remains of a blouse that had never stood a chance.

“You were right,” you whispered, tracing the marks the buttons had left behind.

“It doesn’t fit you anymore.”

[fancypiglet]

"Try this one," you say, handing me a pair of jeans I haven't worn in months.

I laugh.

"There's no way."

"Humor me."

I pull them on anyway.

They stop halfway.

We both stare for a second before I try one last time.

The zipper refuses to move.

I burst out laughing.

"Okay… maybe I've changed a little."

You hand me another outfit.

Then another.

And another.

By the end, half the pile doesn't fit anymore.

I catch my reflection in the mirror, rest a hand on my tummy, and can't help but smile.

[fancypiglet]

Some days I catch my reflection and smile without even realizing it.

My big belly peeks out just enough to remind me of all the good meals.

It's soft, warm, and unapologetically mine.

I think that's my favorite part about me.

[fancypiglet]

That comfortable heaviness that makes me want to lean back, smile, and stay exactly where I am.

I always rest my hand on my tummy without even thinking about it.

It feels different after I've eaten—rounder, softer, almost like it's holding onto every wonderful bite. I catch myself absentmindedly tracing little circles over it while I replay the meal in my head, already thinking about what I want to eat next.

I've never understood people who see food as just fuel.

To me, it's obsession.

It's excitement before the first bite, afterward, when you're so full that the rest of the world can wait.

Maybe that's why I love eating so much.

Not just because food tastes good, but because of everything that comes with it.

The gluttony.

The feeling of wanting more, but your body won't allow it.

Forcing it to take one more bite.

And that wonderfully soft feeling afterward that always makes me smile.

[fancypiglet]

"I'm done."

That's what I say after the first burger.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Really?"

I look down at my plate for a second before reaching for another fry.

"Okay… maybe not."

You can't help but smile.

You watch as I keep eating, slower now, every bite making me pause a little longer than the last. My stomach feels warm, comfortably heavy, the kind of fullness that makes every deep breath a little more noticeable.

"I shouldn't…"

I say it while already reaching for one more bite.

"I know," you laugh.

When the meal is finally over, I lean back with a long sigh, your hand instinctively finding my stomach.

"I ate way too much."

"Was it worth it?"

I close my eyes for a second before nodding.

"Every bite."

[fancypiglet]

The mirror didn’t make me look smaller.

It caught everything.

The softness of my belly, the way it rested forward, the way my body looked heavier when I stopped trying to pose around it.

I stood there for a second, staring at myself like the reflection belonged to someone I was slowly becoming.

And the strange part?

I didn’t want to look away.

[fancypiglet]

The car was still parked when you told me not to move.

My belly was already pressed against the steering wheel, soft and warm, barely leaving any space between me and the car. I tried to laugh it off, tried to shift back a little, but you reached for the seat lever before I could.

“Let’s see how close it can get.”

The seat slid forward.

Just a little at first.

Enough for my tummy to press harder against the wheel, enough to make me pause and feel every inch of softness trapped between my body and the car.

Then you pulled it forward again.

My breath caught softly.

Not because it hurt.

Because suddenly I was too aware of myself.

My belly squeezed against the steering wheel, my thighs pressed into the seat, my body feeling too big for the little space you kept making smaller. I tried to move my hips, but there was nowhere to go.

You smiled.

“Look at you.”

I looked down and felt my face get warm.

The wheel was buried against my tummy now, making every breath feel heavier, every tiny movement slower. I wasn’t driving anywhere like this, and you knew it. You just wanted me to feel it.

How tight the space had gotten.

How much softer I looked pressed into it.

How my belly had become impossible to ignore, even in the driver’s seat.

I tried to pull back one more time, but my tummy only pressed forward again.

And the worst part was how much I liked being stuck there, letting you watch me realize the car felt smaller than it used to.

[fancypiglet]

I tried to make the photo look casual.

Like my belly wasn’t the first thing you’d notice.

Like it wasn’t sitting there soft and obvious, pressing forward, refusing to stay hidden no matter how I posed.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You just looked.

And somehow that felt worse.

My face got warm as your eyes stayed on the curve of my tummy, on the softness I kept pretending wasn’t becoming more obvious every day.

Then you smiled.

“You’re not hiding that anymore.”

I looked down at my belly and realized you were right.

Maybe I wasn’t.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

[fancypiglet]

You didn’t ask me to hide my belly.

You asked me to show you where the belt should go.

I stood there quietly while you wrapped it around my tummy, your hands careful at first, almost gentle. But then you pulled it tighter, just enough for my softness to press against it, just enough for every little roll to appear around the edges.

I looked down and felt my face get warm.

The belt didn’t make me smaller.

It made everything more obvious.

My belly folded softly above it, spilling around the pressure like it wanted to be seen. Every curve looked rounder, every roll more defined, every inch of me suddenly impossible to ignore.

You smiled.

“Look at that.”

I tried to pretend I wasn’t enjoying it.

But the way the belt framed my softness, the way my tummy pushed back against it, the way you kept staring like every little mark was something beautiful…

It made me feel too aware of myself.

Soft. Full. Squeezed. Shown off.

And when you tightened it one more notch, I didn’t stop you.

I just let my belly press against it harder.

Because maybe I wanted to see how much of me would spill out too.

[fancypiglet]

You watched the cream spill before I could stop it.

Cold, thick, running down my chin, over my chest, and onto my belly while I tried to keep drinking like I wasn’t already losing the challenge.

The belt around my stomach felt tighter with every swallow.

My belly pushed against it, round and heavy, the cream moving inside me every time I shifted. I burped softly and looked away, embarrassed, but you only smiled.

“Keep going.”

Soon I was on the sofa, messy, full, beached, with a red mark where the belt had pressed into my skin.

You looked at my belly like it was the best part.

And honestly…

It was.

[fancypiglet]

The cream was already cold against my lips before I realized how quiet you had gotten.

You weren’t laughing anymore.

You were just watching.

Watching the bottle tilt higher, watching my throat work, watching the heavy cream spill past my mouth when I tried to take too much at once.

It ran down my chin first.

Then my neck.

Then over my chest and onto my belly, thick and pale against my skin, making every soft curve look even rounder under your eyes.

I tried to wipe it away, embarrassed, but you shook your head.

“Leave it.”

So I did.

I let it drip over me while I kept drinking, slower now, heavier with every swallow. My belly was already pushing against the belt, tight and swollen, every breath making the leather press deeper into my softness.

You could hear it too.

The cream moving inside me when I shifted. The little burps I couldn’t hide. The way my breathing changed when I leaned back and felt how full I was getting.

You looked at my belly, round and messy, cream streaked across my skin, the belt leaving a red mark where my body had pushed too hard against it.

And then you smiled like the mess was the point.

Like watching me fail the challenge, spill all over myself, and end up beached on the sofa was exactly what you wanted.

I lay there, too full to move, one hand resting on my swollen belly while you kept looking at me.

And the worst part was…

I already wanted to do it again.

[fancypiglet]

You put the heavy cream in front of me like it was a challenge you already knew I would lose.

Three liters.

Thick, cold, sweet, heavy.

I laughed at first, trying to act like it was impossible, like my body wasn’t already curious, like my belly didn’t already know what was coming.

But then you picked up the belt.

“Put it around your belly.”

So I did.

I tied it tight enough to feel every breath press against it, every little movement reminding me there wasn’t much room left to grow. My stomach was soft under my hands, rounder than before, already sitting heavy in my lap.

Then you looked at the cream.

“Drink.”

The first few swallows were easy.

Too easy.

Cold richness sliding down, filling me slowly, making my belly feel warmer and heavier with every second. I could feel it settling inside me, thick and loud, moving when I shifted. You noticed before I said anything.

“You can hear it, can’t you?”

My face got warm.

I could.

Every time I breathed, every time I leaned back, I felt the cream inside me. Heavy. Sloshing. Claiming space.

The belt started to press harder.

At first, it was just tight.

Then it became impossible to ignore.

My belly pushed forward against it, growing rounder, fuller, more trapped with every swallow. I tried to adjust it, but you stopped me.

“Leave it.”

So I did.

I kept drinking for you, even when I had to pause, even when my body hesitated, even when little burps slipped out and made you smile like you were proud of what you were doing to me.

By the end, I was the biggest I had ever felt.

Round, heavy, swollen with cream, my belly pressing so hard against the belt that when I finally took it off, there was a red mark left behind on my skin.

Proof.

I lay back on the sofa, completely beached, breathing slowly, one hand resting on the curve of my stomach while you watched me from every angle.

I should have felt embarrassed.

Instead, I felt massive.

Spoiled.

Full in a way that made my whole body feel slower.

And when you asked if I would do it again, I didn’t even pretend to think about it.

I just rubbed my belly, felt the cream move inside me, and smiled.

Inspired by my latest Curvage video😍

[fancypiglet]

The trip stayed in my body.

In the heaviness of my steps. In the way my thighs brushed more when I walked. In the soft pressure of my belly when I sat down. In the little pause I needed before moving again.

I could still hear my family’s voices in my head, saying I looked fatter, saying it like I should feel ashamed.

But when I was with you, it felt different.

You watched me shift, breathe, settle into my softness like it belonged there.

And I hated how warm it made me feel.

Not embarrassed.

Aware.

Every small struggle felt like proof that something had changed… and that maybe I liked coming back this way more than I wanted to admit.

[fancypiglet]

You put the burger in front of me like you already knew what was going to happen.

I tried to laugh it off at first, sitting there in that tiny top that barely covered me anymore, my belly already peeking out before I had even taken the first bite.

But you only looked at me and said, “Eat.”

So I did.

One bite, then another.

Messy, greedy, too fast.

The burger was too big, my shirt was too small, and every time I leaned forward, my belly pushed out more, soft and exposed, like it wanted to be seen. I tried to pull my top down, but you stopped me with that look.

“Don’t hide it.”

My face got warm.

You watched me stuff my face like I had no reason to pretend I was delicate anymore. Sauce on my fingers, crumbs on my lips, my belly resting heavy underneath me while the fabric kept failing to cover it.

“More,” you said.

And I hated how quickly I listened.

Bite after bite, I let myself get messier, fuller, softer under your eyes. The burger disappeared slowly, but the proof stayed right there on my body — in the way my belly pushed out, in the way my shirt gave up, in the way I stopped trying to look controlled.

By the end, I wasn’t even pretending.

I just sat there, full and exposed, letting you look at what you made me do.

Inspired by my latest Curvage video