I'm at a point where I basically need to ask for help to get out of bed, shower and crouching and as limiting as it is, it turns me on so fucking muchh😵💫😵💫

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@neverendinggut
I'm at a point where I basically need to ask for help to get out of bed, shower and crouching and as limiting as it is, it turns me on so fucking muchh😵💫😵💫
Getting a pizza delivery right after the doctor tells you to lose weight is honestly so fucking hot I'm ngl
bed-bound cow 🥰 [OF discounts!!]
Getting blackmailed into becoming somebody’s fattening pet.
Being manipulated into becoming somebody’s fattening pet.
Being kidnapped and forced into becoming somebody’s fattening pet.
Being paid to become somebody’s fattening pet.
Voluntarily becoming somebody’s fattening pet.
Constantly making more room to consume 🥰 2 Double Qaurter Pounder meals for dinner #1
Also, my chin is growing so fast... its changing the shape of my face everyday
I want you fucked up and fattened beyond repair.
Your insatiable craving for dopamine is already ruining you so well, with you stuffing yourself whenever possible and getting off to the thought of growing fatter. But that's not enough for me. I want to overstimulate you so bad that your little brain loses all sense of what amounts of dopamine are normal, that it'll always need more. More food, more praise for getting fatter, more gooning and orgasms.
You'll be such a fucked up mess, your life fully revolving around pleasure. You'd be incapable of living on your own, as you're no longer able to focus on something for more than a few seconds, unless it's porn or filled with calories. You wouldn't be able to hold or even find a job, build a social life, or otherwise reach even the slightest bit of independence. And whenever that bit of remaining willpower tries to accomplish something, I'll sabotage you so hard that you're back on that couch, masturbating and stuffing yourself within minutes.
I'll strip you of anything that makes you human. You won't think, plan, or show any sign of intelligence. You'll be a complete pig, forgetting more about how life used to be with every bite you swallow. And the best part is: you can't quit. I'll fuck up your mind so bad that the cravings for masturbating and junk food are uncontrollable. You won't be able to function without that constant dopamine shower.
And as you keep growing fatter, sizing up at least every 2 weeks, I'll be watching with the greatest joy as your body gets covered in an ever thickening layer of blubber. Moving becomes harder, sitting down and stuffing yourself becomes easier. And once you're too fat and out of shape to properly get yourself off, you know that you'll only get to experience any kind of sexual pleasure once you've swallowed the first 10,000 calories of the day.
Give in, piggy. It'll feel so incredibly good ~
Could we see some before and afters of you like a 100 pounds ago and then todays belly
I don't have any from all that long ago because I was a minor during the start of my gain, but here's a lil progression all a year apart!!
I've gotten fucking huge over the years 🥰🥰
Roughly a 60-70 lb gain~
Even before meeting her, you were never "skinny". That's probably what drew her to you in the first place, now that you think about it. She could tell you were a girl who knew how to eat, and she made sure that "talent" of yours was properly nurtured...
She was so sly about it at first. She'd make too much pasta for herself, then offer you the leftovers because she "doesn't like to waste food". She'd always insist on ordering the Family Deal whenever you two got take-out, even though it was just the two of you eating, because "it's more economical!". And there was that one time when she came home with a huge carton of ice-cream that wouldn't fit into the freezer, so you had to eat the entire thing in one sitting. She'd made up some excuse about how she was already full from grabbing something to eat on her way home. That didn't explain why she needed to watch as you lifted each spoonful to your lips and swallowed it, or why she called you a good girl when she took the empty cardboard bucket away from you as you nursed your bloated belly, or why she was so horny while spooning you that night...
If you're honest with yourself, maybe the warning signs were a little more obvious than you thought.
At the time though, you had no idea that something strange was going on. Weight gain happened to everyone, you didn't start panicking just because you'd accidentally put on a few pounds. Even when it turned into a couple dozen pounds, you were still so nonchalant about it - You still managed to fit into your stretchiest clothes, so you didn't have to do anything drastic like a diet just yet. You'd always been big... Your girlfriend didn't seem to mind that you were just a little bigger now, so you weren't going to worry about it either.
If only it had stopped there...
You remember when you finally grew too big for your stretchiest pair of sweatpants. You tugged and tugged against the fabric, trying to drag it up and over your thick rolls of belly flesh, just enough to hide your deep belly button away from sight, when you heard the unmistakable rip of overburdened seams giving way, followed by an unexpected breeze across your thighs and ass as exposed cellulite rushed to spill out of the destroyed pants. She had been there to watch as you ungracefully freed yourself from the torn fabric, growing breathless and sweaty with the effort of extricating your soft flesh from the tight remnants of the sweatpants. As you struggled, she had reassured you: "It's okay babe, I'll get you some new ones! I guess you've just been a little piggy lately..."
You disregarded it as a little playful teasing, but her teasing seemed to get a little meaner from that point onwards. She asked you to "try not to be such a fatass this time" when she gave you your new pair of sweatpants (in a size XXL this time). Every time she caught you looking in the fridge, she'd grab you by one of your belly rolls and warn that "you'll get fat if you keep that up, big girl... Well, even fatter, I mean..." And there was that one time when the two of you were showering together and she asked "does my whale need any help with all that blubber?"
She was making it easier and easier to overeat, and weight just kept piling on with every week that went by. You were noticing new rolls of lard and creases of flesh where there hadn't been any before, and your girlfriend always grabbed a handful of your thickening love handles on her way out after dropping a plate of snacks next to your keyboard. You grew so much lazier and greedier as the extra bulk made every movement such a chore. Stairs left you sweaty and breathless now; standing up from your gaming chair took two or three attempts because of the mound of jiggling blubber filling your lap; every meal left you stuffed to the brim as your girlfriend kept increasing your portions to push your limits...
One day, after eating a huge dinner she had prepared for you, along with two servings of dessert (she had insisted...), you struggled your way upstairs with your stuffed belly bouncing from thigh to thigh with every step, waddled to the desk where your PC was waiting, dropped your fat ass into your gamer chair... and then continued dropping, all the way to the floor. You'd finally done it. The chair had taken all it could handle. Its bolts had been asked to take more strain than they could bear, and had instead dumped you onto the floor like a pale mound of jelly. When you eventually struggled to your feet and dusted yourself off, you turned to see your girlfriend smiling at you from the doorway and biting her lip. Her face was flushed with arousal as she stared at the look of embarrassment on yours.
You looked down at your thick rolls of belly fat, at your cellulite-laden thighs, at your heavy tits that sat atop your shelf of a gut, and then looked back at her.
"Have you been doing this... on purpose?" you asked her, taking two handfuls of your own soft flab.
"Have... Have I been doing this? Piggy, you've done all of this yourself!" She moved closer, slipping her thumb into your navel and aggressively jiggling your bloated gut. A small whine escaped from your lips, but was silenced by her finger against your lips. "Sure, I might have put all that food in front of you, but it was you who couldn't help but shovel it all into their greedy snout..."
She gently pushes you by your belly towards the bed, and without protest, you let it happen. You let her sit you down on top of the mattress, keeping your mouth shut as she takes a seat in your lap.
"You make for such a comfortable throne, you know that, you big tub of lard? These thighs are like pillows... And sure, I have to share this seat with your thick apron of belly fat, but I wouldn't have my spoiled, plump princess any other way!" Her hands bury themselves under your dough muffin top, squeezing your soft flesh as your ear is filled with the sound of her aroused panting. Her hot breath on your neck sends shivers up your spine, which only makes you jiggle more for her. You're putty in her hands as she kneads the pounds of squishiness that she's been cultivating around your midriff.
"Are you really going to ruin all my fun, fatty? Or are you going to let your queen keep fattening you up until you can't even lift a finger any more?"
Your aroused panting is interrupted by a growl from your stomach. She looks down at your gropeable belly rolls, then back at your flushed, breathless face. She sees complete submission in your eyes as she smiles back at you.
"I knew you'd make a good pig - but I still want you so much fatter, babe..."
Reblog if you're not fat enough yet
unlike the other male hucows on the ranch, i like to spend my time lazily grazing instead of fighting for dominance. i grow soft and my horns aren’t nearly as big as the other bulls. the farmers write me off as a failure, but a cute ranchhand disagrees. she spends all day with me, feeding me extra, keeping me well-groomed, massaging my budding udders. eventually she’s able to start milking me, and thanks to her pampering, i quickly become the most productive milker on the farm. i’m putting out gallons every day, no one has ever seen a cow make more milk than i do. not only am i producing a lot, but the quality of my milk is second to none. rich, sweet, delicious. other farmers want cows who are good milkers like i am, so my seed becomes a valuable commodity as well. that’s how i spend my days, blissfully mooing away as pumps work overtime on my swollen udders and poor little cock, endless treats and calorie dense shakes keeping me too fat to move. all thanks to the kind ranchhand who’s never left my side and who never lets me go hungry or unmilked or without constant kisses and praise…🐄
I got an idea for a mutually beneficial relationship.
You're my stay at home feedee, whose only job is to eat and gain weight. No other obligations. Your existence is only gluttony, lust and hedonism. While I'm working, you're stuffing your face for me, so that I have a fat, warm body to play with in the evenings. In return, you're given all the food you can eat, hands to rub your belly and feed you in the evenings, an ever-growing wardrobe, a bed to sleep in and an environment to compensate your obese body. You could go all out, because who would judge you for gaining weight? You're not working, so there's no embarrassment fueled by coworkers witnessing your ever-expanding belly popping dress shirts. There's no embarrassment about what or how much you eat, because I'm doing the grocery shopping. You'd be in your own little bubble, praised for growing fat, constantly adored for habits that other people would find disgusting. There would be no shame, only praise and pampering. And when you're too big to do things on your own, that's no issue. I'm already taking care of you, and you're still fulfilling your duties; You're becoming softer, becoming cuddlier, getting fatter for me. Would there ever be an end? A stopping point? I don't think you'd even want that for yourself, to go back to the life you had before.
God, where do I sign up
stuffed belly noises are actually so slutty... so you're just groaning and whining and need to be touched huh
i'm genuinely stupidly aroused by tummy groans and it's insane
helpless fatty...
You like being helpless, don't you fatty? Helplessly lured in by any food, helplessly drawn to the bong that lets you push your limits, helplessly addicted to that feeling of being as tight and taut as you could possibly be, unable to breathe.
And the feeling of being helpless doesn't stop there does it? Sure you can walk to the door and pickup your food on your own, but wouldn't it be so much better for a feeder to wait on you hand and foot every moment of every day? So you could remain helpless?
The only reason you can't really commit to being a lard-filled foodwhore butterball is because you still have to spend those calories doing all those horrendously exhausting workouts, like walking to your car, walking to the door, and walking to the kitchen when there's nowhere good open for takeout.
Wouldn't it be so nice to really eat yourself into submission? Eat so much, that if you move you'll be sick? Eat so much that you're a slave to your belly, rubbing lotion and oil all over it, marathon burping the entire time just to relieve a little pain? Moaning and groaning under the shifting weight of your prized gut even after just adjusting your seat a little?
Something tells me you're dying to give in. To really commit. To go all the way, and finally convert yourself to the braindead obese bimbo foodslut you've always wanted to be, helpless as can be...
So? What are you waiting for? I'm just a call away...
Personally, I find more enjoyment when feedees stuff themselves not with food but what turns into an amorphous fattening shake with no real flavor. Just the single minded goal of reaching a calorie number.
Imagine being so lost in this fetish that you drink half a gallon of icecream, every day. Just to hit that number. No foresight of the future, only wanting to grow and grow and indulge in your hedonistic desires. Allowing your legs to slowly separate forcing a waddle with every step. Arms sagging lower and lower. Belly hanging well below your hips, covered in cellulite and dimples. Neck disappearing as your chin expands and jiggles with every word. Every step a labor paved by your own greed and desires. At the end of the day, you're going to be trapped in an obese, helpless body unable to walk 15 yards without heavy breath. And you're going to enjoy every minute of it
Eat to gain not for pleasure