Not big enough indeed. The poor thing can still chew on her own. Get her on all-liquid diet for six months and you'll fix that right up.

⁂

★
d e v o n
Today's Document
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Peter Solarz
Monterey Bay Aquarium
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!
No title available
Stranger Things
Xuebing Du

seen from Sweden

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from United States
seen from South Africa

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France

seen from Argentina

seen from Japan

seen from Iraq

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada
@fatcurator
Not big enough indeed. The poor thing can still chew on her own. Get her on all-liquid diet for six months and you'll fix that right up.
Gaining 400 lbs *could* be a good idea, provided it's paired with other ideas. Trying to lumber on a treadmill sure as hell is not one of those good ideas.
If you must, go swimming. Adipose tissue floats, so you don't feel the weight of your own body while you're in the water. It can give you and your cardiovascular system a break. If it were possible to remain swimming 24/7 it would offer some incredible benefits. Remaining floating and sedentary in temperature controlled water (or gel?) means even fewer calories would be burned daily in the course of one's sedentary, immobile lifestyle. Less weight on the body would aid blood circulation, help reduce lymphadema, reduce resting heartrate, and increase consistent blood oxygen levels.
The premise is that the healthier and happier she is, the more likely she is to think that maybe it's a good idea to gain 600 or 800 lbs.
"Too fat" is one of those phrases I never understood. There's not really any such thing, at least not at first blush, and certainly not from the perspective of the one who is too fat. I mean, when a balloon becomes too full, how do you know?
It pops.
That's how you know when someone's stomach is too full as well. So, once you know how much a person can hold, with the next one you must throttle back your intentions slightly for the sake of keeping everything from exploding.
The same logic applies for getting too fat.
At what point does someone's skin simply rupture because it cannot contain any more fat? Once you've found that point, with the next one you observe for all the same signs prior to the last explosion, and that's where you stop.
That's not "too fat," but for the most insatiable of us who have to push until we find every limit, I think we can label this finally as "Fat Enough."
Regrettably there's no specific number involved, but at least when your feedee wants to know when they can stop gaining, you can now give them some idea of where the finish line is. Of course, it's probably best that they not be capable of walking or leaving the bed at that point since they'll try to escape otherwise.
Disclaimer: This commentary is all said in good fun. Neither it nor I advocate harming anyone or violating their bodily autonomy or free will. It's all just a narrative character.
Blame me if you must, but don't pretend you don't want to turn into a human blimp. I didn't put the food in your mouth, and I saw that satisfied little smile whenever you protested, as if you were living out your purpose in life by becoming a machine that turns calories into fat.
Not until you finish your Wendy's, Five Guy's, and your hourly funnel shake, young lady!
I can see why she would be angry. That young lady should not be capable of walking, let alone be immediately recognizable as human.
I wonder if she thinks that will be difficult? And does she know what that generally involves?
On the contrary, it's actually because you're already extremely obese that 100 lbs is nothing. What is an entire beach worth of sand when you drop it in the desert? 100 lbs on an average, mobile person who has a modicum of willpower and is not the posterchild of Dante's Circle of Gluttony would indeed be a lot. It might be one third to half of their current weight. When you're a heaving 1,100 lb blob, 100 pounds is one-eleventh your own current weight. That's such a small fraction that a haircut, good bowel movement, and sweat in a sauna could be enough for some people.
And that's exactly why you don't need to worry anymore. You're past the point that adding more weight to you matters. You cannot walk as it is. Do you think you somehow won't be able to walk even less in another 900 lbs? Even if you could walk, you couldn't leave. There are no doorways wide enough for you, or cars large enough, though perhaps a renovated cattle car of some kind might work. But what clothes would fit you? What you're wearing was already stitched from bedsheets, and you're growing so fast that by the time I have sourced fabric and made clothes from it you will have outgrown it. Soon you will be essentially naked, or at least in a bikini made from bedsheets and elastic.
Face it, you've outgrown this world. It's not meant for you. Instead, let's make do with this house. I'll see about getting a bed installed with integrated plumbing and waterproof pads for spongebaths. I'll get your gaming PC set up with a projector. We'll hang a screen. I'll cook and order out. The doctor will make housecalls. I'll see to a few other details...
This fragile little world will revolve around you as long as you let it, babe. Since you're the resident black hole, just do what you do: Consume all things and add to your mass. The rest will work itself out.
If she's stopped gaining it's because she hasn't stood in the last year and her feeder hasn't brought her hourly feast on time. No platters, trays, carts, and troughs are in easy reach.
Looks like she needs to be switched over to liquids. Set up a nasogastric feeding tube, gravity drip, and a ten gallon tank hung from a solid brace in the ceiling. She'll stay full 24/7 but without the force of a pump there shouldn't be enough pressure to cause her stomach to rupture. She'll spend a lot of time sleeping, with her body focused on constantly digesting, and her skincare regimen is gonna have to be insane, but she won't be moving those arms much longer.
Maybe set up a computer system and mouse with eyetracking software used for people who've been paralyzed? Should give her some control and entertainment if no one is present, though I see no reason why a cutie like her should ever be left alone.
If you have to ask, you didn't understand the assignment. Funny you should say you'll never lose the weight though, damn near prophetic.
another fav Juliet Summer, total goals~
As far as I know this is as fat as we ever saw her get.
Shame she didn't do more videos aimed at widespread circulation.
Ruin The Pig
Content warning: This story contains extreme fat shaming, non-consensual weight gain, health play, and death feedism.
I am going to ruin you pig. I told you that when we first met up after you spent weeks begging me to feed you and use you.
You were lying in the hotel bed naked after I stuffed and pumped you full of 10K calories in a few hours, you were so small then, barely 300 pounds. It was cute that you pretended to be immobile while I fed you. Listening as you played the panic up and begged “fuck fuck fuck we have to slow down! I’m getting too big I don’t want to be trapped in bed!” I would silence you by shoving a messy burger into my face a shush you, "Shut your dumb fucking mouth and eat." I said forcefully but calmly, I saw the acceptance and submission wash over you as the realization that no choice is being offered but to eat and like a passive cow as you let out oinks and weakly pawed at my crotch.
I remember that fat ball gut you had, so small compared to now. That was pure surface-level fat, pushing your organs down, putting pressure on your GI tract, and making it harder for your body to pump blood. You are at a point where every new pound of fat is a step toward utter and complete obesity.
We would meet up every few weeks and you would pretend your arteries were clogging already from an absolute binge of cheese and grease, that you I loved only wanting the cheapest unhealthy slop. Preferring a ketchup-slathered triple cheeseburger and a pile of chocolates to some fancy steak and a nice cake.
I remember the first time you panicked and begged for me to slow down, right after you hit 690 pounds. I had woken you up for your 2 a.m. funnel session, I never let you sleep for more than 4 hours without eating till you passed out, I say, "Get up and walk to the scale.", pointing to a large black metal livestock scale in the middle of the room. Your mind was weak from being fed nothing but junk, weed, alcohol, and the hormones mixed into your slop. You throw your heavy flabby arms up to gather enough momentum to heave your billowing body up. I watched as nothing happened, you tried again. Again your body moved not an inch off the bed, all you accomplished was shaking the sea of lard that was your body.
Your face flushed with sweat and burned red as you strained your body, but you were stuck. Attempt after attempt, after an attempt to lift yourself, grunts and wheezing fill the basement.
A minute later your eyes went wild, and my hand on your chest felt a heart racing faster and faster.
I see that panic, it makes me hard. You are locked in now. A complete loss of agency and now you are nothing. I own your life. Any money, anything you own is gone. All you have is my pity.
Pity that feeds you.
Food and nothing else.
I told you my plans now that you were a helpless fucking lard-ass NEET in my home.
1. Hormones to make you the perfect pile of shame. Bury your dick in fat, widen your hips and tits, make a perfect pussy for Daddy to fuck.
2. We are starting an Only Fans! You get to be my immobile plaything that I take every sadistic desire out on, and I get all the money.
3. Some more feeders are going to stop by and have their way with you. You are my toy to loan out to other feeders and chasers.
I lean into your sweating, beat red face, and put a hand around your neck roll. "You are just a waddling weak whore doing what I say till your bloated wrecked corpse is left in a hotel room covered in cum and food, got it?"
As you opened your mouth to answer, I shoved the funnel in. You asked for this pig.
Too soon. Too young. Respect.
Jade Nicole $jadenicole70
Yeah i like girls whose tits are at waist level and whose belly is halfway to their knees. That's normal right?
No, it's not normal. You should be liking girls whose bellies bang against their shins, tits wobble on either side of their equatorial region, asses fill the gaps at the back of their knees, and backs are flat against their beds for their long, gluttonous, slothful, lard-laden lives.
Hayley's choker getting eaten by the slabs of fat that have piled up over her collarbones.
Fitting since most of her is butter.