TEXANGAINER
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Today's Document
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we're not kids anymore.
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@growthpig
TEXANGAINER
A former feedee/ bear influencer does a pivot. He makes a whole post and announcement on all his socials: that heâs going on a âfitness journeyâ. He plans to lose all the weight heâs put on, for his health of course.
He does lose the weight. It takes him a year or two and people are either pissed or overly congratulatory. He has some loose skin but nothing crazy. His muscles are bulging and heâs chilled for the first time in years.
What no one knows is that this is part of a whole plan. He and his feeder have been working on it for years, ever since he hit that pesky plateau. They know diets fail; theyâre counting on it. The whole point of this little fitness journey is the regains. His poor thin and chiseled body is now just begging to be filled with fat all over again, and hopefully itâll put on more than it needs.
A year later, people notice that heâs looking thicker again. In a few months heâs wearing his old fat clothes, and thank god all that training left him with enough muscle to carry around all that ânewâ fat. In another month, heâs surpassed his old highest weight by a good margin, and to celebrate heâs wearing his old clothes like a trophy of tattered rags. Within the year, heâs hit two new milestones: his belly hits the bed when he sits, and he canât reach his cock anymore. He smiles while eating a slice of an XXL pizza as his feeder goes down on him. Thank god for regains. Thank god for failure.
James LeĂŁo
Post-Feeder Preferences
âHave you heard that Michael is moving back to town?â asked Rick casually as he sipped his beer.
Leviâs eyes widened, his pulse quickening.âReally?â he asked back in astonishment. He hadnât seen Michael in years. The guy had disappeared off to college seven years ago and simply never returned. âWho told you that?â
âHis dad,â Rick nodded. âApparently, heâs been trying to get Michael to join the family business for years and heâs finally agreed. I was asking about him. He said Michael has not long split up with his girlfriend, so the timing was right. Weâll have to all meet up for a drink.â
Levi nodded, trying to hide his eagerness. None of his friends had ever known about how he and Michael had fooled around together at the end of high school, nor how Michaelâs abrupt exit from all their lives had cut Levi like a knife. Heâd messaged him, back in those early college days, then waited three weeks for a reply until, eventually, heâd given up trying to stay in contact at all. âSure!â Levi smiled, feigning delight. However, the thought of it plagued him for the next month, with memories of their time together washing over him like waves on a forgotten beach.
the contract.
Nice closet
Tried these shirts on about a year ago, now let's see how this piggy has grown out of them
will I make the cut?
Sometimes I miss being a big fat piggy
What are some of the darker milestones you think youâll find most erotic about feeding and growing a woman into a blob?
I'll start by saying a lot of dark milestone moments tend to be mutual between a couple. Your ask was not that though, you asked what ME MYSELF ME would find most erotic. I'll try to answer from a pure feeder perspective.
I'm a dominant feeder, which means the biggest reward in any situation is when I ask and she does. Shifting her dependency onto me. Where it starts turning dark is when she keeps listening, over and over. It's a thrill. It feels like I'm getting away with something bad (to be truthful...a lot of what I want might be bad). And that is where things can go dark. I want to push it. How much can I get away with. What if she spends a week mostly entirely in bed? Every time she hints at maybe getting up, I suffocate that idea by bringing her food. There would be a point where I start getting off to how EASY it is to reduce someone's life to confinement in bed.
As far as tangible, recognizable milestones go...the first time I help bathe someone in the shower. Then the first time I help bathe someone in bed. It's a slippery slope.
I adore the idea of introducing a walker or wheelchair in the house. I like the idea of a feedee clinging onto those last moments of strength by using mobility aids to get to the bathroom or couch.
Obviously reaching 600lbs is a moment. At that point, there's no chance someone is going to reduce their eating or increase their activity without my help. Knowing I won't let that happen? Ha. Ha...haha....
I'm a BIG fan of certain time-duration milestones. Not leaving the house for a year is a big one. She's mine. I'm keeping her. This is our life to cherish together.
Then there are the crazy dark moments. Oxygen tank? Automatic bariatric bed getting installed? Making a big fucking deal of the last time she gets out of bed under her own strength? Each one would radicalize me deeper. Yessss.
Weighed in at 538âŠ
The first time ive moved more than like 20 steps today and it was to shove hotdogs into my gut before beaching myself at my desk again đ”âđ«
What more do you want tbh
Unprofessional Development
Jimmy's jaw dropped when the new boss walked into the office. Even with his shirt, tie and dress pants on, he still recognized the big, fat chub straight away. What a night they had had together a few months ago, meeting up at the older manâs place: the unveiling of that enormous, wide, soft butt and the way heâd let Jimmy play with his giant belly and tits! Even now, the memory of it was getting Jimmy hard.
âI hear Iâm joining a very dynamic team,â Stuart announced to the gathering he had assembled. âIâm sure weâre all going to get along great. I expect a professional attitude at all times, and thatâs all youâll ever get out of me,â he promised, sounding strangely like a politician. His eyes caught on Jimmyâs, although it was clear that the recognition wasnât quite there. Oh, how massive his gut looked in that tent-like white shirt! His rear, a masterpiece of blubber! What had his profile said heâd weighed? 450lbs? It certainly wasnât a pound less. Why the hell hadnât Jimmy organised another sexy night with this beautiful, lardy beast?
first (and fiftieth)
(You always remember your first. Inspired by a post by @SpeciesCake on Bluesky. Contains: weight gain, feeding, romance.)
I didnât hear it at first. But the second set of knocks landed with a hurried âknock-KNOCKâ that pounded just a bit too loudly, enough to make me realize the previous noise wasnât the air conditioner outside, it was the first set of gentle raps on the door.
I hopped off the couch and swung open the door, and there they were, in person. I didnât need their dating profile to know they were hovering around the mid-200s then, and pretty self conscious about it, though even at the time, in physical space, they looked substantial; enough of a belly to press against the front of their shirt, fat cheeks framing their face, the shade of the start of a double chin forming below, arms with a generous layer of fat thickening their silhouette into a pleasing plumpness. They stood a little shorter than me, and I had to admit the feeling of looking down slightly to meet their sight line gave me a chemical reaction.
âGlad you made it.â I remember hoping I didnât scare them off with such a veiled slip; I still remember the back-and-forth deliberation they had, anxious to participate, nervous to say yes. I think there was a trepidation to make it real, back then; dragging those late night teases and muddy, grainy photos into reality, physical space.
âMe too. ItâsâŠgreat to see you.â They held their arms together, fiddling with their fingers, as they shuffled inside.
Before long they were sat on my couch, and I remember thinking about how badly I wanted them to fill the couch cushion. âI ordered pizza, I uhâŠgot plenty, too.â I added, chuckling to myself a little.
âOhâŠoh! Yeah, uhâŠyeah. Cool.â They anxiously darted their eyes to the corners of the room. Their nervousness had reached critical levels in the quiet and the dead time waiting for food.
I remember hurriedly putting on some music (low and chill) and sat next to them (adjacent but politely separate.) âHey.â I said, my tone hushed, sober.
They managed a strained smirk, finally focusing on me again. âHey.â
âItâs okay, we donât have to do anything, Iâm just happy to see you.â I considered putting my hand on their thigh then, but decided against it.
âI know, I justâŠIâve never done this kinda thing before.â
âFirst time for everything, right?â I did my best to muster a genuine smile.
âYeah.â They smiled back. âItâs justâŠwild. Like I know you but I didnât know youâŠI mean, I guess now I can say I do.â
âAnd howâs that going?â
âWellâŠyouâre cuter in person.â
âSo are you, Chubs.â The pet name sounded a little stilted in my voice, but then, Iâd never said it aloud before. The flush in their cheeks told me it was still received as intended.
âIâmâŠI really am happy Iâm here right now. Iâm really happy Iâm here with you.â They placed their hand on my thigh. I remember that really catching me off-guard. I must have been blushing a lot, the way they tilted their head, a silent âawwâ.
I bit my lip a bit too hard and jumped up a little too fast. âYou want anything to drink?â
Before long the pizza came, and I had definitely ordered too much; I saw their glance open slightly wide-eyed when they saw me struggle with the pizza boxes. I had wanted to play up the fantasy a little, even if they werenât quite feeling it, but I was worried it came off as intimidating. Later on, theyâd tell me that they thought it was sweet in a strange way, that Iâd made the effort to play it up like that.
Greasy slices placed in front of them, adjacent to their mugful of soda, they stared at the plate for a moment, working out something in their head.
âDo you want me toâŠâ
âN-noâŠI uh, itâs too messy, yeah. I think Iâd rather just eat it myself. M-maybe later?â
âYeah, sure.â
Eventually they told me that they regretted not letting me try and feed them from the beginning.
We settled into the comfortable white noise of a shitty horror movie (an early point of bonding for us at the time) as they dutifully munched on their pizza. I saw their eyes dart at me occasionally, but I was skittish - I didnât want to overstep any boundaries.
I remember how they very performatively set their plate down with a clack, sitting back, an almost stilted âI think Iâve had enough pizza, at least.â
âEight slices is really good. You did great.â
They chuckled. âYâI guess. I didnât finish all those boxesâŠâ
âDonât worry about it, just wanted to be prepared.â Fuck. I knew I should have gotten less-
âDefinitely done with savory, but-â
Their food preferences had obviously been a topic of discussion in our kinky internet courting, and I was aware of how much of a sweet tooth they were, even back then. I was prepared for that too.
âI have some ice cream, if you want some.â
They looked back at me, beaming, reciting the words theyâd been rehearsing in their head dozens of times already. âI could go for some ice cream.â
I grabbed the carton and the largest spoon I had, and came back over to sit next to them (adjacent and comfortably close.) I sat the carton and the spoon down with a slight clatter as it hit the table. âActually, do you want me toâŠâ
âYes.â
I remember fiddling with the packaging a little bit too long, anxious for the moment to finally start; they told me they think about that all the time. It still makes me blush.
Thankfully, the fiddling had warmed the carton enough that I could start scraping a generous mound onto the spoon - not too large, just enough a scoop to cover their tongue with the dessert. I was really thinking about the logistics of that first bite.
I placed the spoon near their mouth, and they opened it dutifully. The spoon traveled inward, and their lips collapsed around it. I dragged the spoon across their tongue as I pulled it out, and they had closed their eyes to take in the flavor - sweet, though not cloying, milky, rich.
I formed another mound and placed it close, their reaction a little faster to open their mouth, wide enough to start moving a little more efficiently. The rhythm between the two of us picked up a bit, never enough to be breakneck, but steady.
I donât even remember choosing to start consciously, but I was using my other hand to gently rub their belly. I had finally noticed when they very hurriedly lifted their shirt as I rubbed; my fingertips on their skin, yielding softness gently tested. They responded to my touch with the slightest whine - nearly imperceptible, but the noise encouraged my fingers to move more deliberately, tracing their roundness in sweeps and circles. They told me shortly after that they were so self conscious about their little noise; I lied at the time and said I didnât even hear it.
We had finished half the carton when they very gently pushed my hand away to make room for their lips meeting mine. I tasted vanilla on their tongue. I donât remember this, but they told me that they could feel me smiling on that first kiss, and they knew everything was going to be okay.
ââ
They gave their gut a small pat, setting off little undulations on the surface of their belly, rippling into their love handles and making their tits wobble, the last meal safely tucked away. âOkay, I think Iâm ready for dessert.â
âWhat took you so long, Chubs?â Automatically, I shot up from my somewhat cratered seat next to them and went to grab the tray of cookies - they had just been cooling off, and would be nice and warm but not too melty.
Their voice called out to the kitchen, practically hearing the drool forming in their mouth. âYou made those chocolate chip cookies again, yeah? Itâs been a while, Iâm excited.â It had been about a week since I had last made them. I did not mention this. I grabbed something else from the freezer and made my way back to the couch, where they had taken up the center and then some.
Their ass had easily consumed two cushionâs worth of space now, and though you could see the edges of the seat on each side flared up slightly underneath, anyone that tried to sit on that sliver would fall into their mass like quicksand.
It was my favorite place to be.
And what a mass it was. Their gut piled up on top of their fat thighs in a blob, sprawling in every direction, settled into a generous mound with an extra helping of side rolls messily stacked on top of their heavy swooping love handles. I could grab a handful of them and shake, and still barely lift their overhang. Their belly button marked the center, deep and shadowy, perfect for fitting my face into.
Just above sat their tit-mound - a generous section of fat in its own right, especially with the way it sat they laid back, bunched up on top of their belly. Their chest rounded into side fat that met their arm fat, pillowy enough to start forming rolls along where they met their forearms. Just above, their double chin hung low, spread across the width of their heavy, reddened cheeks.
So much of the Chubs I know.
âFuck, Iâm so hungryâŠâ It sounded almost involuntary out of them, the way they would say it in a daze, a reaction. They had told me once, a hundred pounds ago now, that they were worried it was annoying. It was never annoying.
âOpen up, then.â I sat the tray next to me and took my place next to them - leaned in against all their slightly sweaty fat, pressed into their side, looking up to their fat face and reaching over, past their mass of belly and tit. Seeing their pudgy face at this angle always did something for me. They dutifully complied with an open mouth and the flavor hit their tongue - a familiar and satisfying chocolate chip, the timing out of the oven such that the dough was warm and crispy on the edges and slightly gooey in the interior, buttery, chocolatey, a hint of sea salt for balance. I had plenty of practice now.
I loved seeing them eat - the way they closed their eyes, a quiet noise on the first bite somewhere between a moan and a yelp - it felt intimate seeing them indulge like this, seeing that moment of giving in. I lived for it, and thankfully they grew the appetite to let me see it all the time.
âGood?â
They nodded, pushing their tongue against the roof of their mouth slightly, tasting the traces of the lingering rich flavor. âFuck. I could eat these forever.â
âIâll need a bigger oven for that.â I chuckled. âYâknow, I love how often you fantasize about more food when youâre already eating.â
They blushed slightly. âOh, you love it. Iâm fucking hungry, and someone keeps feeding meâŠâ They smacked their gut for effect, their rolls pressing into my body slightly from the motion.
âFuck, youâre just so fat now, arenât you.â I grabbed what I could reach of their overhang, giving it a rough shake, encouraging a percussive belch from them. My lips met theirs, and I tasted chocolate on their tongue. I couldnât help but smile. After stealing another kiss, I replaced my lips with another cookie, which they devoured easily. We got into our rhythm and I fit the trayful of cookies into them.
They let out another belch followed by a âIs it weird that I still wantâŠâ
âMore? You? Not at all, Chubs. Thankfully I came prepared.â I picked up the carton of ice cream and ripped off the lid, serving size spoon pressing into the now partially melted top.
I scooped a big mound and shoved it in their mouth. My other hand grabbed at their massive tit, and I heard a muffled moan through the cream and sugar. Another scoop pressed to their lips, and their breathing became short as my other hand hefted a roll.
They felt so warm and soft, gallons of melted ice cream already poured into their body, countless stuffings and big meals and treats and surprises and special occasions, so much appreciation and spoiling and love made evident in the way they wheezed when getting out of bed, the way theyâd spread their legs to make room for their gut, the way theyâd lay back after a good meal.
I couldnât help but stare at them for a second, even with the dribble of ice cream running down their chin. They opened their eyes, looked at me back, and smiled. I got another mound and pressed it to their lips. For them, it tasted as good as it ever has.
I know I've written about some of these topics before, but I'm fascinated with the science behind obesity, so I've decided to write something more extensive about it. Welcome to:
Why you'll keep getting fatter
Disclaimer: this is simplified. Biology is incredibly complex, some of these topics haven't been fully researched yet. I'm no doctor.
What regulates your weight?
You might believe that you're in control of your weight, but you're. Your weight is mainly controlled by hormones. Think about how many times you decided not to overeat and lose weight and how many times you eventually gave in to the cravings. Those cravings are caused by hormones and how your body/brain interprets them. Two of those hormones are grehlin and leptin. To oversimplify this, grehlin tells your body that you're hungry, leptin tells your body that you're satiated. Grehlin is mainly produced by your gut, leptin by your adipocytes. Adipocytes form adipose tissue, or as I like to call it, that blubbery layer of lard that just keeps growing.
Your body is designed to stay around a normal, healthy weight, which lies between a BMI of 18 and 25 for most people. (I'm aware BMI isn't really a good measure, but we'll ignore that for now since it really doesn't matter for this post). Your body is designed in a way where when you gain some weight, your adipose tissue will signal your body to eat less, through release of leptin. So your body both regulates fat storage and appetite. You have an internal system that should technically prevent you from overeating and becoming obese.
So why do you keep eating?
When you're reading this, you're probably overweight. Your fat cells should be telling you to eat less. So why do you still keep eating so much? That's largely due to what you're eating. Our brains and digestive systems have evolved to deal with natural, whole foods. From meat over vegetables to dairy products. But how often to you prepare a meal from whole ingredients? Have you ever? You'll probably opt for store-bought foods, perhaps ready-to-eat. You might skip grocery shopping all together and just order takeout. But no matter whether you're buying a bag of bread or are ordering McDonald's again, the food you consume is likely to be ultra-processed. While the definition of ultra-processed food is extensive and partially vague, some key characteristics are to replace whole foods, be hyper palatable, highly profitable to the companies who make them, and designed to be over-consumed. It's an capitalistic abomination of what used to be food.
Ultra-processed food contains many ingredients that were never a part of the human diet. Those ingredients simply didn't exist. Modified starches, gums, or processed vegetable oils are just a few of the industry favorites. They allow for the creation of pretty much any texture, from fluffy over creamy to crunchy. Add some artificial flavors, sugar and salt, and you can have anything you want. What's best is that these added ingredients mess with your hormonal regulations. They bypass your body's feedback system of when you've had enough. You don't keep eating until you're satiated. You keep eating until you're full. The food industry makes more money, you gain more weight.
What happens if you keep eating?
As you eat more, your body will store excess energy as lipids (fat) in adipocytes (fat cells). At first, adipocytes just expand. When you're in your mid 20s or older, your adipocytes aren't meant to multiply anymore. After all, you're not designed to get obese anyways. But since you'll ignore satiation when eating ultra-processed food, you'll keep gaining more weight. Your body might try telling you to stop eating, but ultra-processed food silences those calls.
What makes this interesting is that the amount of adipocytes is meant to be stable. They'll only multiply when they can't grow any bigger, and they're really difficult to break down again. After all, why would your body have evolved in a way where it'll directly get rid of important energy storages the second you burn through some of the fuel?
If you keep eating while already having enough fat reserves, your adipocytes will release increasingly more leptin, trying to tell you that you've eaten enough. But you keep lifting that fork and shoveling more down your throat, thanks to those ultra-processed ingredients. You leave your adipocytes no option but to multiply. You're becoming obese.
What happens if you get obese?
A lot of things start to change on a hormonal level when you become obese. So much, that I won't even attempt to cover all of it in this post. One change I find quite interesting is that as your adipocytes release increasingly more leptin, your receptors start getting used to the concentration of them and become desensitized. You're generally losing the ability to sense satiation, no matter what you eat. From here on out, you won't stop eating when you've had enough. If that were the case, you'd barely be eating anything, given how fat you already are. Instead, you'll keep eating until you're physically full.
As you begin to eat until you're physically full, your stomach will expand and you'll have higher releases of grehlin, making you more hungry. You feel strong hunger and low satiation. You're always snacky. How could you not continue eating? The best part of this is that grehlin promotes fat storage. You'll be more hungry, have lost the ability to properly sense when you're full, are destined to overeat, and become more likely to gain even more weight. This is when things begin to spiral.
The inescapable cycle forms.
At this point, I want to introduce our favorite hormone, dopamine. Dopamine isn't just released for pleasure and reward, but for motivation as well. Without dopamine, you wouldn't be doing anything. Dopamine is what gets you moving and keeps you going. It plays a large role in your behavioral feedback system, which tells you which behaviors/actions are good for you, and which are not. When you're obese, you'll probably have associated ultra-processed food with dopamine already. Eating feels rewarding.
What makes this really interesting is that grehlin and dopamine are connected. Grehlin increases dopamine release, which means that you won't just feel hungry, but also a strong motivation or craving to eat. Sound familiar? As you overeat more and grow fatter, this effect only strengthens. If you think back to when you were a few (dozen/hundred) pounds lighter, you probably didn't feel as hungry and snacky as you do now. Although now, you really don't need any food at all anymore. Every pound of fat provides enough energy for about 1.5-2 days. You could probably go without food for months, yet you crave it more than ever before. The reason is simple: you've destroyed the system that regulated your appetite and weight.
The slippery slope of gluttony
Many people refer to what I've talked about so far as the "slippery slope of gluttony", including myself. It starts with just a few pounds, when you grow a bit of a belly and start dipping into the obese range. But it's not just addiction or dopamine that keep you going. It's your appetite and weight regulation that are being fucked by you over-consuming over-processed food. It's like breaking the thermostat on a radiator. You don't know when to stop anymore.
You don't even need to eat junk food for this, as almost anything you'll find in a store is ultra-processed. Even many of the "healthy" options. You can try going for low sugar, low fat, low sodium, and any other diet product as much as you want. You'll still over-consume it and gain more weight. Those foods are designed that way. The more you eat, the more you consume, the more money food corporations make by making you obese. They're pouring billions into researching new ingredients to make their foods more hyper palatable and more addictive. You don't stand a chance.
The best part
Either you got here because this is your fetish, or because gaining weight turned into your fetish. What I wrote so far should alarm you. Billion-dollar corporations making over-processed foods, designed to replace whole foods, be over-consumed, while fucking up your hormonal regulations. The more you consume, the fatter you get, the more they profit. All across the world, especially in western countries, obesity rates are going through the roof. Every year, people get fatter. Why buy a whole-grain handmade (not ultra-processed) loaf of bread from a bakery when you can buy ultra-processed industrial bread for Œ of the price? Capitalism turned fattening you up into a very profitable business.
But does this alarm you? Or are you edging while reading this, loving how fucked up and dystopian this sounds? Now that you know how helpless you are in the first place, do you want to deliberately dive in deeper? Do you want to see just how bad it can get? It's not your fault anyways, it's the system.
One of the most successful ways of losing weight has been ozempic, which increases your leptin sensitivity, allowing you to properly sense satiation again. Yes, you'd have to take drugs for your hormonal regulations to work properly again. That's how fucked up you are. The second people stop using it, they blow back up.
Where do we go from here?
The ghrelin-dopamine + over-processed foods combination will always make you overeat again, just like you've done so many times already. It doesn't matter whether you try to lose weight or go on a strict diet. You might be able to lose some weight, but you'll blow up again eventually. Your hormonal regulations are fucked. You're destined to keep getting fatter and except from taking drugs, there is little you can do.
So why not accept this? Why not accept that you're fucked? You're not to blame, and it's certainly not your fault that everything is over-processed and designed to be over-consumed. And if you're being honest, doesn't the thought of a system that's designed to fatten people up for profit turn you on? Isn't that a pretty hot feederism fantasy come to life?
Think of this the next time you gorge yourself on some junk food. Try eating a little extra, just to dive in even deeper. You know you want to ~