I think it is time for an introduction, I won't give my name publicly, so please call me Peachy!
Basics about me:
ā”24 yo she/they pronouns
ā”Genderfluid but most of the time feeling some type of femme, probably nb, still questioning my gender
ā”Single, not looking for a relationship
ā”Big FFA, encourager and enabler, feeder, into soft feedism and not into the hardcore things of feedism
ā”Asexual (the sex repulsed type) so pls don't come into my messages/asks being horny, sending belly pics or just kink dumping, we are all more than this kink and I would prefer if we got an intellectual connection first
ā”Anti AI, so if I see you reblogging or posting AI pics or vids, I'll probably block you
ā” Not interacting with cishet men after so much disrespect. I am only willing to interact through asks
ā”Not into: death feedism, vore or mutual gaining (or gaining at all/being a feedee), emphasis on death feedism pls never talk to me about it, slob, scat, immobility.
ā” Into: soft feedism, body contrast, weight gain, funnel feeding, force feeding, body worship, praise, fit to fat, teratophilia, a bit of pet/puppy play.
IF YOU ARE RACIST, HOMOPHOBIC, FATPHOBIC, TRANSPHOBIC, ANTI-FEMINIST, PROANA, A TERF OR MEAN/WEIRD, YOU'LL BE BLOCKED IF YOU INTERACT WITH MY BLOG
Beware blank blogs, I won't hesitate to block you.
Extras:
ā”Panromantic āØ
ā”Neurodivergent
ā”Animal lover
ā”I am latina, so I speak Spanish <3
ā”Love arts and crafts, stardew valley, indie horror games, fnaf, deltarune, undertale, transformers, welcome home, the sims (not ea), dolls and sanrio š
ā”I enjoy most genres of music kpop, cumbia, power metal, pop, phonk, electronic, 70s-80s music, eurodance, some vocaloid songs and probably more
ā”Just here to enjoy this kink, maybe make friends and be silly
ā” I need some emotional or intellectual connection before feeling comfortable talking about this kink in dms and I can't just kink talk forever. We are all human afterall and I prefer to be on the same page with someone
ā”Chronically online 5'1 beast
ā” I'm a switch leaning into sub or a very doting and soft dom
ā”I won't answer any dms if you don't have any sort of bio/age
ā” Won't open dms that just say "hey", "hello" or something along those lines
ā” Pls don't dm me if you are 15+ years older than me and if you wanna kink talk with me. Same goes if you are 18-19.
ā” In dms I engage strictly platonic, I can encourage and praise, but I am not looking for a relationship here. I am a show off and yearner in my public posts, not in my dms
I want you to constantly feel that you're taking up space. You know, that feeling where your brain hasn't quite adjusted to your new size; where you find yourself bumping into furniture or doorways... that you could swear were wider just two days ago. I want you to start noticing that your kitchen counter seems higher than it did before... Or maybe, your gut finally hangs so low that it kisses the countertop when you're looking for a snack. I want you to wonder why all of your clothes suddenly seem to have shrunk in the wash. After all, the nice pair of jeans you just bought must be poor quality... The button flew off the second you sat down, but it's not like you've been eating enough to stuff a stoned linebacker, right?
You haven't been eating much at all, have you? Some avocado toast for breakfast... Followed by two mcgriddles and a huge iced coffee. A salad for lunch... accompanied by a triple decker burger and a massive basket of cheese fries. And dinner, since you ate so healthy and light during the day, you treat yourself to a pizza... Or two... Or three. And fuck it, why not some ice cream too? You've been good, you deserve a treat, don't you? You couldn't possibly have outgrown your clothes eating like that. That's crazy!
But yes, I want you to feel heavier.
Not only in the sense that I can fit my entire head beneath your massive tit, but in the sense that you can *feel* yourself growing... Stretching... Spreading wider. You can feel your supple, cellulite dimpled flesh getting softer, bathing you in a cozy blanket of lard. I want you to feel weighed down by your body, to question why you should ever have to get off the couch... To ever have to do anything beside eating and getting fatter.
Being a little masochistic here. Feel free not to respond if you don't like it.
What do you think is the real point of no return for a feedee? When do the extra pounds become a proper prison from which there is no possible way a growing porker could escape? At what moment does his fate become sealed for good? When does a return to a normal weight become so distant and improbable that he should simply accept being a lard-encumbered landwhale forever and not worry his unsalvageably perverted mind with how much his self-imposed condition limits him in his day to day life?
I used to be fit. Hell, I was a quite decent high school athlete and I still have the trophies in my room. But then I started university, workouts became occasional, moving out to a dorm meant I could eat and drink whatever I wanted all the time, Covid hit and workouts, well, they stopped entirely... Freshman 15? No this oinker ate himself into a freshman 70 and although the speed of my gains slowed down (thank God lmao), I simply couldn't stop myself from crossing milestone after milestone...
Chubs became too out of shape for his old workouts. Tubby got out of breath every time he walked for too long, which was becoming a shorter and shorter distance. Fatass had to start shopping online for clothes because most stores don't have 4XLs. Porkchop accidentaly snorts like the boar he is when he laughs or eats too fast. Rotund cautionary tale had to buy a seatbelt extender and was advised to also buy a second seat when he flew. Blubbery beached beluga broke a wooden chair by sitting on it. Body by McDonald's now has a permanent double chin, moobs and a belly hang that turn him on when he jiggles them in front of a mirror without even needing to use his hands. Tons-of-fun got out of breath topping his former roommate's cousin and had to let the poor girl get on top to finish (and still laughs at me for it). Biggest boy in every room he enters now, well that teasing name is already a milestone. BMI-of-52 got to this point in only 6 short years of fast-food adiction and sedentary lifestyle.
He doesn't know if he has reached the "oops, too late to return to normal now piggy, you're fucked forever" stage yet. Maybe he has. Maybe it will be one of those future planetary limits he's sure to break sooner or later.
Blue ribbon at the fair will become so large he develops a waddle. Quarter-tonner will be too fat to masturbate. Actual pile of lard will need help getting up from the couch. Human deposit of melted butter will have fucked his degestive system to the point he will crave calorie-dense foods 24/7. "A Sumerian priest would think him fat enough to replace a heifer as a sacrifice to the fertility goddess" will be such a planet-sized cartoonish display of excessive hedonism that even you will want to pump the breaks and turn back.
But it will simply past that point.
-Vanilla Frosting Guy
While this branch of feedism isn't my cup of tea, I can definitely appreciate stories or texts of it.
It all depends on height and muscle mass, but if we're talking about someone who is a true fatty with not much muscle mass, I feel like 280-310 is a point of no return. But of course, weight is only a number, numbers don't really define us at the end of the day.
But you know what defines us? Habits, if you make a habit out of this kink, you'll be a completely different person in just a couple of years. Limiting your work outs, walking less and eating more; the funny thing is that doing a little less movement around your day and a little more eating doesn't make a huge difference, you really have to do a 180Ā° change in your life to go from winning athlete to porker who needs a seat belt extender in just a few years.
I'd say that it's still you despite the years and changes, but let's face it, you're not, that athlete is long gone and buried under many pounds of lard, you can't walk short distances without getting out of breath, let alone work out like you used to. You've changed to the point of being unrecognizable, breaking chairs, being advised to buy a second seat for yourself at a plane, having to buy online because most stores don't carry your size. You've done an impressive job at fattening yourself up all nice and big.
You're definitely in the point of no return and you've been in it for a while now, you're no longer that athelete that desired to win and get over challenges, the most challenging thing you do now is probably eat enough food for a family of 4 in a sit, you're not even an active person, just a sedentary fatass that will probably end up gaining more weight.
At this point you've rewired your brain, darling, no normal person thinks about wanting to be a good boy on a leash and lick vanilla frosting off my abs, someone who's normal doesn't think about stuffing their face with burgers when they see one of my pics. My BMI as of right now is 24.2, on a thin line between healthy and overweight due to my higher muscle mass, but a butterball like you easily doubles it, no normal person is capable of doing that.
Yet here you're wondering if you're in the point of no return, how adorable, this sweet fatty is still wondering if he'll be able to "return to normal", very cute, maybe you should eat some more and forget about "normal" or maybe I should feed you and show you what that "normal" is so you can see just how far away you're from it. You better embrace your current lifestyle, darling, it's not like "normalcy" would ever suit a growing fatty like yourself ever again š¤
Funny thing about all of this is that I hated exercise while growing up, I was never an athlete, but I started getting fit in university and I've only gotten stronger and fitter.
What I find irrationally hot: guys who stuff themselves with so much food that their bellys become so full and bulging that they have to unbutton their jeans to relieve themselves. That reach for the button, with the heavy aching belly getting in the way, the fumbling because the pressure is so great that the button barely opens, then finally it works, the relief on their face, the zipper pops open. And then that little shake of the plump stuffed belly until it sits comfortably over the zipper teeth, round and bulging, a ball of greed. Then the hand that runs over the belly, checking the freedom gained and occasionally adjusting or lifting the paunch which is filled to capacity. So hot, every single step.
just like with any other group of people itās cruel and also racist to expect black people to endure racism with a gleaming smile and two thumbs up on the off chance that the person being racist to them is neurodivergent. you canāt be lamenting about how complex you are while denying the humanity of the person across from you.
