My underbelly is getting so wide and the stretchmarks are literally exploding all over my belly (and almost every other part of my body)🐷
Since it's now my pinned post: You can find all my pics and own posts under #mine☺️

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@queerfatlife
My underbelly is getting so wide and the stretchmarks are literally exploding all over my belly (and almost every other part of my body)🐷
Since it's now my pinned post: You can find all my pics and own posts under #mine☺️
after a long day of stuffing, this is what eating dessert is like~
it hurts, it's too much.. but it's so god damn hot and i can't stop.
Not to be too crazy but I adore girls who get so engorged they look like struggling piles of lard moreso than a girl trying to eat teehee
Untapped potential in feedees being spoiled beyond just food. Like yes yes I see the appeal in slob stuff but what about the feeders who take pride in their feedee looking good and feeling good and so on?
Like finding only the best quality clothes in their size instead because such corpulence deserves only the best, instead of getting whatever because “they’ll only outgrow it”.
It’s hot out and everyone’s expecting the big guy/girl to sweat up a storm and reek but no, they smell like pure lavender (example) because their feeder spent a good 60-90 minutes in making sure they were nice and clean after a bubble bath or shower and then every inch of them has been covered in only the best products. Body butters, foot creams, face masks and hair care, special sprays– “jajoba & cashmere” branded shit.
It’s all very expensive upkeep, especially when they keep getting bigger and their body becomes even more expensive in every aspect. Doesn’t matter if the feeder is the service sub or the dom or whatever the fuck either, this is just a necessity.
Feedees deserve to be worshipped and taken care of, don’t they? And what does that say about their feeder when they are?
Digital Pig
grow so fat that it's pathetic.
people see you and naturally take pity on you.
you're so big, everything must be such hard work.
everyone knows you'll be panting and out of breath if you have to do things for yourself.
you're really meant to just sit there and look pretty anyway~
I need an absolutely stuffed fatty spread out on the couch, unable to stand up on their own promising that tomorrow they will be “good”. When we both know they will crumble the minute I bring them their first breakfast.
Ummm woah i swear these shorts just fit me right… oh well im still gonna stuff myself and get 🍃
how about white collar mommy and her beloved sugar baby who does nothing but laze and stuff herself silly at home? Yes.
Click for better quality!
ordering more food because you're stuffing and still hungry and answering the door with a taut belly and a red ish face and a messy outfit and hair as you accept your food thats clearly for more than one but is alll going straight down that hungry gullet of yours
I do crunches, you crunch on chips and popcorn.
I do laps around the track, you do laps around the buffet.
I do pull-ups, you struggle to pull up your jeans.
I do sit-ups, you get so stuffed you can't sit up.
Get the idea, sweetie? Burning calories isn't your thing ❤️
the type of contrast i'm into 🙂↕️
Normalize wheelchairs.
Normalize being fat and wanting to be even fatter even if you can barely waddle anymore.
Normalize still wishing for more fat whatever your conditions are.
Normalize all health conditions, normalize diabetes.
Normalize doing whatever you want to do, no matter how immense your weight. We will tap uncharted waters if necessary, without any fear.
Normalize being immobile and still worthy of everything, all the love and care.
Normalize me always being by your side and supporting you, no matter how obese you will keep getting 🖤
This. All day. Gainers/Feedees/Fat People are people too.
i have been enjoying the nature of self love in the most perverted and erotic of ways, by allowing myself to give into my urges completely.
indulging and lazing about for days on end, losing myself in plates and plates of food to the point i didnt even realize a month had gone by.
every other thought slipped away except one singular purpose: eat.
i could do this all the time oh my god i love being a piggy.
Fatter.
Force me to apologise for how big I’m getting. For how much space I’m starting to take up when we lay in bed. For how much I slow you down on walks.
Make me tell you I’m sorry when I break my first chair. Tell me I should be ashamed for how much I let my gluttony affect you. For how much food you “have to” cook for me every meal.
Tell me I need to ask forgiveness for every pair of jeans my belly starts to spill over, for every T-shirt that my growing mass turns into a crop top.
Once you’ve made me into a big, lardy ball of shame, punish me for every inconvenience - with a force feeding, obviously.
Eat until you’re a bedbound plaything like a good larder. Just think of how much praise you’ll get if you just stop struggling and listen to what your hedonistic heart has been telling you all this time.
i blew up..