some ancient lilith and prims that never made it anywhere bc im currently insane about weight reversal
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@konta-chan
some ancient lilith and prims that never made it anywhere bc im currently insane about weight reversal
Reach While You Can
It used to be easy for you. Without the massive soft bumper in the way, you could quickly get between your legs. Anywhere, anytime, it was your space to access and pleasure yourself. When you used to be smaller, it took little to no effort. Now you've gone and made it a challenge with a huge heavy hanging slab of lard always in the way, covering that needy space. You've eaten yourself into a state where your pleasure isn't as easy to come by. Though you can still reach, it hurts your arm, and you need to move fat out of the way to get a few fingers between those massive fat thighs. The space between your legs is crowded with fat from your overindulgence, slowing and preventing your ability to indulge in self-pleasure. You've made it so hard for yourself now that you've become obese. Yet after every meal, a searching hand wanders, hopeful that it can reward you for a clean plate. Being sluggishly full and horny in the body you have now makes you whine as you become too lazy to touch yourself. It's always your most extensive workout now that you sit on your fat ass all day.
At the rate you're gaining weight.. you're not going to be able to reach it someday. When that day comes, you'd better be prepared for someone to take care of that need for you. You'd better hope they don't make you do or say anything too humiliating or eat more than you're used to. They'll have all the power, so if you want to get off, you'll do what they want. Anything to bring you the pleasure you seek more and more. Reach while you can, fatty.
I just had a whole pot of trifle dessert which was 1.2k calories, that with the dinner just amounts to 2.2k which is insane I also had breakfast and lunch...and I'm still craving for more snacks~
You Can't Escape Morbid Obesity
I know how you feel. You've been waiting to find the right person to feed you into oblivion, because you might not be able to find someone if you let yourself get as fat as you want to.
You still occasionally stuff yourself silly, and get soooo turned on everytime you do, but relatively, you've managed to keep it to a level where you can still pass as skinny. You're only 110-130lbs, and you feel so lucky that you can enjoy stuffing your face and getting off to it, while your metabolism takes care of the rest, and everyone still finds you generally attractive.
But what about when you get older? When your metabolism finally starts slipping? When your sleep schedule after your new job makes it impossible for you to eat three square meals a day, so you just starve yourself until you can gorge for lunch and dinner?
The average person fluctuates between 5 pounds of their weight every week, so you'll probably just gain around 10-15 pounds in the beginning, nothing serious. Depending on your build, you might not even really notice it! You'll brush it off, after all, all your clothes still fit, your friends say you look healthier, although they can't quite place it, and all the while you've been letting yourself get that dessert from that drive-thru you love going to so much!
After a while though, you'll notice that you've become sooo used to eating out and the takeout/fast food places that are just too convenient. Maybe before you could limit it, or balance it by sometimes cooking food at home or just eating a little less, but now? You eat out or get takeout 5 days a week!
Soon after, you'll start to notice a little bit more weight on you, maybe another 15 pounds from the last time you checked. A very good chunk of weight, but you'll still tell yourself that you can always burn it off in the gym. After all, 15 pounds ago, it was barely noticeable that you gained any weight at all! And you can burn that much with just 2 weeks of solid cardio in the gym, and 2 weeks is barely anything! You'll be fine...
Maybe about two or three months in, your lifestyle starts to catch up with you. Maybe you get out of breath after the usual 2 or 3 flights of stairs to your apartment, or maybe you feel like you're going to die of starvation after just 3 hours since you last ate, so you simply have to have 4 meals a day to make sure you're satisfied. You notice this, but you already know you have to get to the gym, you just haven't found the time with this project still going on at work, and what with that new hobby you got back into! (And let's be honest, sometimes scrolling on Instagram or Tiktok just takes up 5 hours of your day!)
All your work colleagues and friends say they get it, they've been there before, but now they go to Crunch or Planet Fitness, and they'd love to be workout buddies with you! Thank god! It's not like you're some obese pig, this is totally normal! Everyone totally understands! As soon as you step in the gym, everything will be fixed! It's almost too easy!
By now, deep down, you know the line has been crossed. You've gained well over 60 pounds from what you've been for almost all your life. The only issue is, your brain is totally rewired.
You don't want to go to the gym anymore. You don't want to stop eating all the delicious foods you get as soon as you're off your shift or for breakfast lunch and dinner any day you don't work. You don't really want to lose the weight. Going to the gym and eating healthy sucks! Why would you ever?
Your phone, supporting your confirmation bias, starts showing you content and ads directed towards fat people. It'll keep updating you about that fast food place you can't get enough of, and how you might as well get the app since you go so often and you can get all those points. Your content on tiktok and instagram will be bigger content creators, telling you how normal it is to be as obese as them. Letting you slip even further in denial.
While all of this happens, you deny the one truth that is the cause of all of this. You love it. Every pound you gain, every new roll and stretch mark just makes it that much more worth it the next time you stuff your face, and you can look in the mirror and it can be that much more obvious that you're a gluttonous, obese, spineless hog. The bigger that gut of yours gets, the easier it is for you to rush to the nearest bathroom as soon as youre done stuffing your fat face, and the quicker you finish pleasuring yourself to just how round and heavy you've become.
You're still in a normal range of weight for the average american though... don't you want to see what it's like to be much fatter than even your fattest work colleague or friend? To be stared at wherever you go? To have your family stage an intervention because they are so worried for you? I know you do baby, so hold this funnel...
I'm slowly getting addicted to being stuffed oh god...I've been stuffed after dinner for like a week now maybe and even then, I can't help but snack almost throughout the entire night~
I've tried on some old t-shirts and they still fit, but my tummy is downright visible - I can see the outline of my belly button! But with the metabolism I have, none of it will stick right? My tummy is just stuffed and will go away
With that well-fed belly, you shouldn't be really surprised that your clothes fit like this. Waistband digging, buttons straining and seams screaming to stop holding that much of you, it was inevitable.
There's no point in trying to suck it in to fit into any of your clothes, you're wider, much rounder and simply softer, there's more of you. All that eating has finally caught up to you and I know we both like seeing this growth on you.
There's joy and pleasure into getting you to the next goal and seeing the little surprises such as this one with your weight gain, it makes both the journey and destiny so delightful. Makes me wonder what will be the next surprise for us, like where the next 10lbs will go or if your appetite will get bigger, the possibilities are almost endless.
So why don't we get your favorites and I start feeding you, so we can see what will happen first~
theres a weird xy type of graph or axis you can make around feedism fantasies centered around levels of intimacy vs. impersonalization (being fed By Someone vs. fattened up in a facility somewhere with a tube) and consensuality vs. non-consensuality (sitting down and agreeing about it with someone in your fantasies vs. being force fed).
Like intimate and consensual being soft feedism (usually). Intimate and nonconsensual being kidnapping type stuff. Non intimate and consensual being signing up for a medication trial knowing the side effects or getting paid to stuff yourself for cash. Intimate and nonconsensual being aliens taking you as private fodder. Do ykwim?
this is a rough and probably inaccurate guide to what I'm talking about
Source
chubby fingers and wrist rolls and elbow dimples and back rolls and love handles and cellulite and wide asses and fupas and deep belly buttons. ok?
I adore beginner gainers. Those just venturing into this whole new and fun “gaining thing”, still getting their sea legs. Getting so flustered by every single pound, every inch added to their waistline. Maybe even doubting whether or not it’s worth it, only to douse those worries in impulse-purchased heavy cream. And if that’s not enough, I’ve got some words of encouragement for them:
It’s a slippery slope. You’re already addicted, whether you want to admit it or not. Sure, it feels good to admit it, to relish in it when you’re stuffing your face, but what about the morning after? Trying to pull your shirt down over your still bloated belly, your pants up over your thickened thighs and ass. You’re still addicted then; you’ll still go right back to making a pig of yourself later. Falling hard and fast from skinny grace into the throes of hedonism, too dumbed down by pleasure to sense the danger.
And I will be positively delighted to watch that descent in real time.
Watching that once flat stomach dome outwards, pressing against the waistband of sweatpants that were once your fallback pair, now teetering on the brink of too small. The shameful flutter in the pit of your stomach when you resign yourself to a size up, knowing deep down that it’ll happen again before you know it.
I’d love to pinch that little roll of fat accumulating there, to tease you for letting yourself go, knowing damn well I’m much fatter than you are in spite of my short stature. But I’d be sure to let you know that, if you stay on this path, you’ll end up even fatter than I am. And you know I’m far from skinny.
Skinny was always overrated, anyways. You’ve felt firsthand how good it feels to fatten yourself up; much too good to give up. So why would you even consider it as a possibility? You’re already too far down the rabbit hole to waddle your way out. So embrace the greed, the hedonism, the fat. It looks good on you.
You can't escape
Regardless of what you think, you aren't immune to gaining weight. Your little waist and small appetite aren't impervious to stretching and molding to a feeder's will. Did you really think your metabolism kept you safe? You thought if you worked out enough, you could run away from the surplus calories I wanted you to eat? It's such a funny joke, but the punchline is you are getting so big that your whole wardrobe is too small. The only thing keeping you from getting bigger is that you don't have the time or money to get bigger. Do you know how many calories a tin of oreos are? Any idea how much a large soda is? Maybe you could guess the calories in a tub of butter? I bet you can't, since it's never crossed your mind. Do you know what would happen If you started consuming any of these in excess? Your small belly would balloon. You wouldn't be able to say your metabolism keeps you skinny, you would have to accept you can become a massive lardass like all the other happy fatties enjoying their meals. You can only stay so skinny for long with someone like me by your side. Your willpower can only last so long around fattening foods. Once you give in, it's too late.
They come up behind you, wrap their arms around you.
“Someone’s getting a little belly,” they say, in mock surprise.
You blush.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. You know I like a little extra. Maybe you’d gain a few more pounds for me?”
You think this is probably inevitable given the rich meals they’ve been giving you, full of butter and cream. You were indeed surprised to confront your rounding silhouette in the mirror. But the meals are so delicious, and you know they enjoy the results.
“Yes,” you whisper.
They start playing with your belly, rubbing you, patting you, giving you playful slaps to see your new fat jiggle. They run their hands down to the round, soft bottom and cup it. “You were so skinny. Now look at this,” they say, giving your belly a squeeze. And then they grin.
“Oh my, are you getting wet? May I?”
“Yes,” you whimper.
They slide a hand between your plump thighs, first over your panties, and then move them aside.
“You’re so wet.”
They put a finger inside you, searching, probing, discovering, as their other hand stays firmly on your belly, lovingly kneading and slapping your soft flesh. They know what you want and need. And they continue until you let out a final moan, exhausted.
Six months and many meals later, they again wrap their arms around you.
“Look at that,” they tease. “So fat I can’t get my arms all the way around your waist.” They slide their arms down the slope of your body. “Look at this potbelly,” they marvel, cupping the bottom underneath with both hands, shaking all of your new fat. They give you a slap your cellulite jiggles.
“Oh,” you moan.
“Yes, that always gets you wet,” they say. They push a hand between your heavy thighs and find the spot right away, slapping and jiggling your belly at the same time.
After, they pull you to them, your big gut against their trim stomach, and grab your widening ass.
“I can’t wait to take you to the beach this summer. I can’t wait to see you in a bikini, the other people looking, and me knowing that this is my work.” They kiss you deeply, and you melt.
It starts with a smile.
A wink, a grin.
She sees me across the room and there’s an electric energy between us.
We talk, I make her laugh, and within a few weeks we’re meeting regularly for coffee or lunch and talking daily.
Within 6 months she moves in to my place and we’re spending the evenings drinking wine and eating richly.
The first few pounds are hardly noticeable, almost excusable. “Well, we did have quite a bit of pasta last night so we’re probably just bloated. It’s not that serious.”
A pound or two turns into ten. Double that for the two of us.
She’s now sporting a little chub and my potbelly is coming along nicely.
As the holidays close in she and I start stretching out our wardrobes until buttons start bursting off of softened bellies and thickened waists, seams tear and fabrics groan over fattened thighs.
The bed starts creaking louder when I make love to her, and the couch almost seems to groan in protest each movie night.
After a year, we’re both undeniably, unmistakably fat.
My belly has swollen from pot to cauldron and her hips have begun brushing against the doorframes as she passes. Still, we eat. Whether we realize it or not we’ve gotten ourselves into a routine of eating rich home cooking until our bellies are overstuffed, then washing it all down with dry red wine or sweet meads. Each night we cuddle and our guts are achingly taut with excess, in the morning we are slightly more swollen than the one before.
Now I’m starting to have trouble reaching my arms around her when we spoon and certain positions are nigh impossible for two big-bellied lovers.
She’s starting to struggle to fit into most clothes from the rack and I’m wheezing every time I come up the stairs to our apartment. We’re both approaching 300lbs and no one is manning the brakes.
Yet still, we eat.