my poor belly just kept bloating and growing.. i had to come upstairs to the couch so she could take up as much room as she needed.. i ache.. my belly feels like itās gonna pop šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«
i just kept going and now i feel so fucking tight š« why do i do this to myself..? im pinned under this gigantic solid belly fuuuck šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«
i feel like an overinflated beach ball.. i wish i could whine louder but i donāt want to wake anyone
The young girl pauses at the top of the stairs, flushed and breathless, clutching her bag against her heaving tummy. A tummy that is a bit too large for a girl her age. And a bit too full for this time of day. A box of cake had greeted her at her desk this morning. A token of appreciation from the boss. Heās generous that way. Despite his disparaging remarks about fat girls in general and her own round tummy in particular, she suspects he likes to see her eat well. The way he eyes her swelling tummy during lunch, or the amount of treats he rewards her with for her hard work. Unfortunately she makes it way too easy for himā¦
She can feel the cake, the entire thing, sitting heavy in her distended stomach. She hadnāt been able to stop before devouring the whole thing, despite a copious breakfast. She canāt help herself. And he notices. āEase up on the chockies there girl, that skirt is working overtimeā heāll say, or āBeen treating ourselves, have we?ā while giving her sides a little pat. Heāll hand her a box of donuts: āNow donāt eat them all at once, youāve got quite enough insulation as it is.ā ... To her colleagues, pointing out how she never buttons her suit jacket anymore: "Better watch what you eat girls, you think missy here always carried this little drum in front of her?" ... Or to the union rep: āDo my girls look like they need a pay raise? Look at this one, any more pampering and youād think sheās expecting.ā She hates it but she canāt seem to lose weight. And she wants to keep her job.
She smooths out her skirt and attempts to suck in her belly. No chance. The skirt has a tendency to ride up and it certainly doesnāt help that it sits tighter than it used to. Oh well. She mentally prepares for a cruel remark or two. One more deep breath and she knocks on the bossā door. Heās in a crunch and needs her to work through lunch. Itāll do her good, avoid the temptation, she thinks. Then her eyes fall on the feast laid out on the side table. Heās watching. āIf Iām ruining your lunch break I might as well make it worth your whileā¦ youāre not one to turn down a good feed are you dear? Any room left in that tummy of yours?ā
-----------------------
Oh how she hates those stairsā¦
She's been indulging in "working lunches" with the boss for a while now, and it's showing. The tight pencil skirt can barely contain her full round tummy. Her fat breasts are straining at the buttons of her blouse. She's breathless from lugging her heavy frame up the stairs to her office. Her co-workers snicker and whisper about her increased bulk.
Her swollen ballbelly is sure to warrant a slap and a poke from the boss, and she'll giggle obligingly, and push her blubber ever so slightly up against him. She'll pretend she just hasn't gotten used to how much space her tum takes up. She knows he likes this game they're playing. He'll tell her that his wife is concerned, itās not good for his image, such a tubby secretary. The wife thinks he should curb her appetite. 'What, with the box of donuts you sent me this morning?', she'll whisper.
He likes making her show his wife around if she ever shows up. His elegant and thin and supremely bored wife, who eyes her heavy gut with obvious disdain. If he knows she's coming he'll give the fat girl a treat first, and watch her struggle to hide her glutted state as she bends to hand his wife her tiny bitter black coffee. She knows they talk about her as soon as she leaves. And she knows she's in for a stern talking-to about letting herself go as soon as the wife leaves.
Most days he's content with reminding her himself what a fat little butterball she's turned into.
He'll pretend to measure if her gut's gotten bigger again (it has and he knows it. He knows how, too). Just an excuse to cop a feel of her packed tummy. A casual squeeze of her plump tits. She'll playfully slap his hand away. He doesn't like being thwarted. He'll grab her, pull her closer, push up against her tight tummy till she moans from the pressure. Remind her of her place, most men in his position wouldn't look twice at a chubby little fatty like her. She'll blush and nod and agreeā¦
He'll call for an early lunch, order masses of food, then call her to his office. He loves playing the generous boss, only the best for the employees in his care. Oh she loves eating, so she'll play along, giggling and fluttering her lashes, and moaning with pleasure at every bite she swallows. Make sure he gets a good eyeful of her heaving cleavage, as she breathes heavier with increasing fullness.
He'll stuff her silly, so much so she'll have to unzip her painfully tight skirt, she'll make a show of it, moan how tight it is, slowly peel it off, leaving him free range to grope and prod her giant gut, only to finally heave her onto his desk, her naked mound of a belly rising before him. She'll hear his belt buckle clink, and then he'll really fill her up.
Come to think of it, maybe the stairs are the smallest of her problems right nowā¦
--------------------------
Sheās ballooned. Sheās too fat to even pretend she still works. Heās filled her up till her clothes burst more times than she can count, and now she's too fat to take notes, and breathless from the weight of her giant packed gut. He doesnāt even bother setting up āworking lunchesā any more. Sheās his and sheāll eat. He teases her, slaps her naked barrel of a tummy, knowing full well that he's the reason she's overeaten to the point of morbid obesity.
She's sprawling on his desk, resting. No chair would fit her, let alone withstand her mass. Sheās glutted senseless. Completely, utterly sated. Just aware enough to give the boss what he wants. He likes to grope her rolls of fat and her painfully distended potbelly under her tight blouse and skirt. She can barely keep herself propped up on her elbows, her tummy's way too large, and packed tight as a drum. But she makes the effort. She knows he likes seeing her like that, massive triple chin competing for space with her fat cleavage, pushed up by that mountain of a tummy. Likes to watch her struggle as he forces the last bites down her gulletā¦ hear her whimper as he jabs at her overblown stomach. Feel the release when he finally peels of her clothesā¦ or when the seams rip.
She canāt remember what she wants more. Him. Food. More food.
Iāve been trying to get myself to keep exercising, but even when I half-ass a short workout, I work up such an appetite that I immediately stuff myself with 10 times the calories that I managed to burn, so Iām not sure itās really doing me any favors š
i just kept going and now i feel so fucking tight š« why do i do this to myself..? im pinned under this gigantic solid belly fuuuck šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«šµāš«
i feel like an overinflated beach ball.. i wish i could whine louder but i donāt want to wake anyone
Hi and welcome to my big fat blog! Iām a girl who just LOVES the more extreme sides of feederism so here Iāll be posting pics/vids of my decent into morbid obesity, or as my doctor calls me extremely morbidly obese š¤. This is strictly an over 18 blog so anyone under that age will be immediately blocked š«ā¦ā¦ā¦.. a bit like my arteries really
As youāll see Iām a very belly heavy pig and my mobility isnāt good so my life is basically just me sat on my fat ass watching tv or gaming (yes Iām a gamer pig as well as a gainer š) my only exercise is waddling to the fridge or answering my door to the delivery guy who thinks heās delivering food for a family not just one incredibly fat woman
If you want to fatten me or show your appreciation for my blog and content www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/1FC79TSD1P9QX?ref_=wl_share it all goes to adding more and more pounds of fat to my struggling obese body.
I have no limits on how fat I become I just want to see how fat my body will take and what health issues I can eat myself into along the way. A few personal goals that Iād like to achieve are immobility, the need for a wheelchair and mobility scooter, and more than anything having to have a wall or doorway knocked down just to fit my fat blob body through
Iām always open to chat and you can ask me anything but I will include things Iām not into below š
Pregnancy/breeding
Slob
Vore
Being called disgusting
Other than that itās all good so feel free to tease this fat pig for how morbidly obese Iāve eaten myself š·
What do you want your feedeeās last thoughts to be as she realizes her heart is giving out from how fat you made her on purpose?
It's hard to say! I imagine it's a conversation that is had early and often in such a relationship. It's her decision, so her approach and style of fascination with it will ultimately become my hopes.
What I would like? I want to see how certain moments play out. Those reactions.
Sitting her down and telling her that she is no longer permitted, by me, to leave the home without a mobility aid. I can't bear to see her struggle like that anymore.
Then when I decide she can no longer leave the home. It's too taxing on her, and no vehicle is easily accessible as it is.
Eventually this turns into destigmatizing her bathroom and hygiene needs. Getting up a few times a day for the bathroom is stressful. What if she fell and got hurt because I carelessly let her have the choice?
Once she's stuck in bed, I'm certain the accessories will start to come into play. CPAP. Oxygen. God willing, a bedside lift. (Bonus points for a breast pump and funnel fixed to the wall for consistent access and use). How does she handle these things? It's becoming real.
What does ~the end~ look like?? I think most serious feedees would agree that reaching 700lbs is incredible. Pushing someone to 800. .. .. that's where I am probably making pre-emptive measures? Scouting nearby hospitals for their bariatric capabilities. Checking for signs of unusual fatigue and breathlessness.
If it surprises us, I'd think there'd be a sense of intense passion? Call the ambulance, look her in the eyes, and tell her she's doing great. She's been great. A fully realized blob, useless pig of a woman - a perfect woman.
izzy806
gracieabrams
yousharknotpass
2087
tangentwithtanner
sugurugetos
areudirty
