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@rolipoli97
do u ever put urself into doggy position just because it feels really slutty. like arms folded under the pillow with your face smushed against it and your back arched and hips tilted up and legs spread wide. it makes me feel like such an empty needy whore it feels sooo good all u bottoms should try it
"Wait up! I can't walk as fast as you."
"Sorry, it's a bit of a tight squeeze to get past me."
"Are you going to finish that? I'm still pretty hungry."
"I don't think that these seats are wide enough for me."
Okay so basically you want to fuck
300 lbs is just chubby reblog if you agree
the idea of fattening someone up by just taking really good care of them is so cute. buying lots of their favourite snacks and making sure they always have some around. bringing them takeaway every night, and they can order as much of whatever they want because they dont need to watch their calories. making them milkshakes that aren't just meant to be super fattening but are also sooo delicious. taking care of chores and bringing them the things they need so they dont need to keep getting up. buying them cute clothes that are also comfy and stretchy so they arent uncomfortable. just looking after someone so well they become the happy, lazy fatty they were meant to be.
Very high. Thinking abt really extreme feedism/weight gain and petplay together but like. done so so lovingly. Taking that care, spoiling, and domestication to its logical extreme.
Being treated like an animal, but an animal whose overwhelming obesity is obviously a sign of love gone overboard. Always being told you're such a good girl for eating all your meals, treated like a spoiled pet. Since you revel in getting heavier and softer, all of that care, doting, and excess leans into being given treats and keeping your overall movement limited. You like being stuffed, so it happens often. Your owner makes sure of it. Because of this, getting fattened turns into an inescapable part of your daily routine.
All of your whines are sated with food, at least in some capacity. A sad puppy always perks up with a nice treat to get it's mind off things, and so do you. A happy puppy would always be happier with a tasty meal in it's tummy, and obviously so would you. Tummy rubs when you whine in discomfort, usually from your chronically distended stomach, also tend to end in more food after the pressure is relieved. A lot of weak, vulnerable animals like you get anxious easily, but you can always make that pit in your stomach feel a little better with some nice comfort food. So you do.
Even as you get heavier and heavier, and your owner's friends do quickly take notice, your owner simply brushes it off as you being naturally quite food motivated, and maybe just a touch too spoiled. Still, there's always a little bit of pressure to slim you down. This comes especially from their closer friends, your mutual friends. The ones who knew you before you became... this. They always has a pretty convincing argument to shut down the concern though, and it still always seems to work on you as well:
"Come oooonnnn, it's just so cute all chunky and soft like this isn't it? It's not like it neeeeeds to move around that much anyway, only on its hands and knees even! Plus, it's much more fun to play with it like this, so soft and jiggly, who cares if it cant get up on the furniture anymore? Besides, look how happy it is. It's always smiling isn't it?"
You are.
Still high, still thinking abt this. So more below. but like darker.
Years of this go by, at first in bliss, but eventually in a blur
You know when you go to a friend's house, and they have an old, sick, pitiable dog? The one that you acknowledge is still a big ol' cutie, but you're always a little on edge when you don't hear them grunt or snore in a while, since that's their only sign of life half the time? That becomes you. Certainly not as old as a dog like that, but definitely just as close to the edge. Your owner still feeds you more than plenty and treats you with all the love in the world, but the constant overfeeding takes it's toll. You see a little worry in your owner's eyes as you huff and puff across the living room floor, your gut a massive obstacle that you breathlessly straddle anytime your weak paws have to drag you now. They pet you reassuringly for the effort, when you can manage it still, and always give you a big kiss and a treat for it. They hope it's enough encouragement to keep their pet moving just a little bit. Increasingly, though, your days are spent completely sedentary. Your owner even concedes to bringing your meals directly to you eventually, especially after they catch you yelping and pawing at your chest in discomfort after a particularly arduous trip to the kitchen. Your heart is always racing these days, but you have no meaningful way to tell your owner that. So you sit and whine, and try to just move as little as possible to calm it down. Your panting is constant and ragged, your heart trembles and screams for a break, and your swollen body is so heavy that every movement is difficult and clumsy. But the attention is so addicting, the treats taste so good, and you're too far gone to begin to care anymore.
If you could still speak, you would tell your owner you're scared, that this is too much, but all you can do is whine. And whining gets you that love, that affection, those treats that got you here. Even through the fog, you can connect the dots. Your owner is going to love you to death. Even through the fog, this makes you incredibly horny. You hope your owner knows what you mean when you whine this time.
a full body lotion rub down from a feeder is what I need everyyyyy dayyyyyy 😮💨
(whole thing uncropped & included when u join my fats, 11+ mins 👀)
GOD I NEED THIS TONIGHT 😩😩😩
If you are going to be kind to all people, remember that you are people too
If you want a huge fat lady as your partner, I better not ever hear you giving them grief or insulting them for being lazy.
That won’t fly around here. If you make me feel like I can’t just be comfortable, fat, and lazy around you, I’ll be gone. QUICK. Even just friends. I’m good, let me live peacefully.
I wanna be the level of fat where the only thing I can wear is dresses cause pants are too much of a hassle, getting socks on is too rough, and wearing anything more than one layer leaves me so sweltering hot that I can’t function.
Wearing maxi dresses that show the indent of my belly button constantly, drawing your eyes to it wondering how deep that hole goes. The way it flaunts my hip dips and cellulite ridden ass, how easy you could grab any part of my flab under it.
Making me eat way too much that by the time we get home and we’re ready to have some steamy sex the only way you can undress is by ripping it off or forcing me to drink enough cream to burst out of it
something about a back constantly arched trying to counterbalance the massive gut on the other side… when they put their hands on their hips and lean backwards trying to get some relief for the aching back that constantly has to support a huge, gluttonous belly
Milestone weigh-ins should be used as a way to deepen the ties between feeder and feedee. Make them meaningful. Your journey should feel guided, a way for you to see what is coming and accept it. Make it easier to tie your past to certain weights, a timeline that lets nostalgia settle in.
I don't think anyone should celebrate a 50lb gain without signing away a piece of their former life for the feeder to handle. It should hit you hard. It should make the feeder more involved. As scary as it might be to approach a new milestone, it simply means your feeder will be forced to spend more effort on you. This is fine, we are destined to fall into this spiral and inescapable decline together, right? You can't escape your future.
Think of all the hard conversations you can avoid when you are told what is going to happen. It shouldn't be up to you to make the call about your comfort, your submissive mind isn't built to advocate for yourself like that. You want a strong-minded, dominant feeder figure to let you know what is happening, when it will happen.
Even with traveling, the rules can be so layered.
300lbs, you no longer deal with parking lots and walking. You are dropped off close. You sit on a bench and wait for your feeder. Why be forced to walk further than the length of your home because you want to experience something as simple as a restaurant?
350lbs, you are given a seatbelt extender. When you leave home, it is no longer checking for phone/wallet/keys. You add the extender to that list. You bring it with you. An accessory.
400lbs, you no longer travel without snacks in the car, or multiple stops for a longer trip. Getting packed into a seat is uncomfortable by now, you should be rewarded with a source of food.
450lbs, you may be forced to sit in the back seat. The passenger seat is moved all the way up to allow your meaty thighs some room. People will understand that you don't drive anymore, or that you won't go anywhere without your personal accommodation, it's easier.
500lbs, you start finding yourself waiting for the van to load you up in the back on your scooter. Climbing that extra step into the car is difficult with how heavy your legs are becoming. Getting out is a falling hazard. This is your new reality, being loaded up into the back like cattle.
Imagine the relief, dread, or fear of approaching a milestone with these rules in place for all facets of your daily life. Traveling, your bathing routine, your steps in the house, your eating habits, your *permission to even leave home to begin with*. Knowing this particular meal is going to be the one that will forbid you from walking alone in the house without a walker. Knowing your activity is prescribed to be reduced by 50% with each set of rules. Having your new set of rights read to you as it dawns on you how much your weight is piling up around you, how you have to admit that certain fatties like yourself become helpless for a reason.
The rules only become more intense, more damning. How does it feel to reach those higher weights, your grease stained signature on the document, and the only thing keeping you from being allowed to leave bed is a measly 5lbs?
quite possibly nothing turns me on faster than someone struggling with a basic task due to their weight
Currently overpowered by the service butch gods. I want a femme I can just do everything for, for no other reason than that they're pretty and they fancy me. Like I want to cook all her meals, drive her everywhere, take her shopping and hold all her bags, build and move furniture so everything's just where she wants it, take her out for dinner and pay 100%, listen to her vent about all her work drama and always take her side. I just want it to be full knight x princess vibes.
And of course if she's a bossy, yappy pillow princess with a big appetite and the belly to prove it, even better. Let me order for you as we go round the drive thru then stuff your face on the way home, whining each time I take my hand off your belly to change gear. Make me bring you food to the couch and sit on the floor with my head on your thighs so I can lovingly look up at you while you eat, kissing your thighs and belly to beg you to let me eat you out as you stuff yourself.
Can you tell I really like this post
feeder that tells you about every single look y’all got when you were out because you didn’t notice. because it’s hard to walk when you can’t see your feet past your belly and you’re waddling and it’s hard to breathe
Fat, independent women are attractive to me because I KNOW they did some shameful and insane binge eating on their own.
Go ahead, tell me about your accomplishments, your studies, your checkmarks.
I KNOW you wind up in bed in a fit after eating a stupid amount of food. An entire pizza, an entire ungodly dessert, or an endless stream of snacks for hours on end.
No matter how impressive you are, I know know know you are living from binge to binge.
Don't get me wrong, I love love love someone who is sharp and well-read. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching you try to be dignified after a panicked binge session the moment you can let your guard down.
Hide it from me. Act like your home is this clean 24/7. Tell me all about your hobbies. The times won't add up. You are shoveling food into your mouth the moment you can escape from the judgement of adults. Admit it.
