18+ MDNI. proship / para dni. this is a kink blog. i am happily taken, dont hmu.
hi, you can call me asp.
i am 21 years old. my pronouns are she/he.
what am i? a fat lesbian genderfreak thing.
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𝐢. about me
the majority of my sexual interests can be condensed into the word hedonism.
i love to embrace indulgence and lean into "moral depravity" as a concept. overall though, i am just a huge feedist. i tend to focus on a dominant perspective, but once in a while ill find myself on other end. while other things i enjoy are listed below, this blog will largely be dedicated to feedism and feedism-related thoughts. and id love to connect with others on these topics as well
other than that, i am often just some fat guy fantasizing about weight gain.
i am fat lib informed. a level 6 woke. like odd music. all the things.
if you see the quality of my posts dipping halfway through, its because my own writing made me so horny i started rushing to finish it. this shit isnt for the weak man
lowk my own weight loss journey has got me thinking about how hot it is to get fat all over again.
i imagine in some distant future—maybe ive lost enough weight to be considered skinny again. my years of being hard at work dieting and exercising have finally paid off.
however now that ive made it this far, i start to loosen up a bit.
my essay on this subject is continued below the cut.
im skinny now. so why not have a few treats here and there to celebrate? what is there to worry about when a couple pounds gained can be shed in an instant? a pack of doritos here and there wont hurt. chocolate is my absolute favourite. and when i head out to eat, theres no reason to get just a bit more than my usual.
i like to think that my behaviour in this situation is actually in sharp contrast to my demeanor beforehand. someone whose remained so steadfast and determined to lose weight for years slowly begins to loses their edge. their willpower. it starts to show physically, too.
my gaze begins to soften. my cheeks slightly round out. grabbing snacks throughout the day becomes routine. because snacking once in a while didnt hurt. and unsurprisingly, the expression on my face starts to look much fatter than i am when i start shoving them into my mouth. bite after bite, my stomach pushes a little further against my shirt. and by the end of each day, i look a little rounder than the last. oblivious to the slow transformation.
my habits worsen. the daily stream of snacks is always followed by lunch or dinner—and then its time for dessert. a few months later, id find that my jeans no longer button. coworkers might offhandedly tell me that im "looking healthy lately". and my partner gives the small layer of pudge on my belly a poke every now and then. but it doesnt seem like too big of a deal. im still not technically fat after all.
i like to think these habits continue until ive developed a true belly again. just fat enough that it once again sticks out in front of me. and by then im forced to confront the damage ive done in the mirror. youd think the insecurity would come biting back but truthfully, its not so bad. i think to myself, patting my belly a little. if all the food still tastes this good after all this time, whats the point in stopping now?
i like to think that this newfound confidence manifests in public, too. patting my belly, rubbing in tight circles when im stuffed to the gills. burps slipping out, holding onto my remaining dignity by uttering a small "excuse me," after each one. joking about my weight gain to everyone i know.
of course i just couldnt keep it off! being fat just feels too good, you know?
make your local dyke fatter. fuck your local dyke’s wobbly thighs with copious amounts of lube. make your local dyke’s stomach spill over every pair of pants they own. you need to. it’s important. trust me on this.
anyway tonight im thinking about a cute office lady stress eating so much the buttons on all of her dress shirts start popping.
she gets home tired and overworked then starts zoning out and eating before she can even look down to see the damage shes already done to her waistline.
eventually shes forced to size up but cant bring herself to stop her habits. it just gets worse. she just gets worse. and by the time shes made herself truly fat theres no putting an end to the way shes programmed herself to inhale.
the lard gets to her head. makes her lazy. makes her act fat too.
her newest dress shirts fight to wrap themselves around the engorged mass of her gut as she stuffs herself each night. she comes into the office fatter each week. her coworkers in constant disbelief of what shes become. soon it becomes how shes known. the fat one.
now its the perfect time for someone else to step in and get her what she needs. its difficult to move all that fat around.
while she lazes around on the couch and doesnt move a muscle in the evening, more and more calories are somehow finding their way into her belly. self programmed to become a docile, overfed pet. helplessly addicted to food. and still growing
still so so busy but im writing a paper right now and looking at studies about office workers' and shift workers' eating habits is way too much for my feedism brain. like wdym increased consumption of sugars and fats...
