To totally rewire your brain and body to expect fat and sugar 24/7?
To guarantee a lifetime of soft pillowy fat?
I present: The Wall E Challenge
It's super simple (and even easier with a feeder):
Simply exist within arms reach of a milkshake for one week.
Finished your milkshake? Immediately buy another from your local ice cream shop.
Worried you'll finish it overnight? Get a large, or maybe two, and put them in the fridge.
And that's it.
There's no additional rules. No numbers to track or goals to reach. Simple enough for a pig brain to handle, right?
This, in my experience, is one of the most fattening challenges a feedee can try.
Because most think "oh after the week ends I'll go back to normal", as if this is a week long bender you'll bounce back from a few days later
Nope, sorry. It'll take months for you to stop gaining weight, let alone to lose it.
I won't say what will happen to you by the 7th day of the challenge. It varies from person to person, and it's far more effective if you don't attach any expectations to it. But know this:
In my experience, nobody that has done the challenge has ever returned to their starting weight. Not even close. And many ended the year... concerningly larger, even by my standards.
Want to enhance it further? Super easy:
Doing this challenge will essentially guarantee morbid obesity, so be careful what you wish for...
tw: this is on the more extreme feedism/healthplay side which isn't everyone's jam! only read if that's something you want to engage with :)
I could tell you needed to sit down before we even made it to the reception desk. Out of breath, the unmistakable sheen of sweat on your forehead from managing the long walk from the car into the waiting room without a single break or snack. The depths of your breath from the exhaustion and exhilaration we both felt that you were about to be examined. The changes to your body about to be verifiably quantified. I guided you over to the wider, reinforced chair; the one you'd actually be able to fit in comfortably. You'd gotten so big so quickly that I knew you had those little missteps when you forgot that you couldn't squeeze yourself into "average" spaces as easily anymore.
Seeing you from across the room was a pleasant reframing for me. I'd gotten to used to seeing your enormity up close that the sight of you, doughy and round on every edge, was a good reminder of how much you'd changed since your last checkup. I handled the clipboard with intake information for you, seeing the little grin on your chunky face as I checked "None" under the list of possible concerns. Why would we have reason to be concerned? You'd never been heavier or happier, any other "concerns" were immaterial.
When they called your name, it took you a second attempt to push yourself onto your feet, your belly spilling out from the edge of your shirt once you managed to start walking. Maybe I'd enabled you a bit too much, made things a little to easy and comfortable for you, if getting up from a chair required a do-over at your size.
The scale was there waiting for us, the internal mechanisms creaking as you steadied yourself and squeezed your thighs together enough to allow your feet enough stability to hold you on the platform. The first counterweight was slid, then slid further, then further still. When they ticked it to 400, I could see your eyes going wide. Wondering if you could have actually gotten that big. If you'd so let your appetite and my influence take over. Then it was back down to 350, and the smaller counterweight to confirm you were hauling around 378 pounds of yourself. Numbers never felt so enticing. Each digit felt exciting as it bounced around in my head.
The exam table was a challenge. I watched you nearly slide off the front of it when you couldn't quite get enough height or maneuver your bulk onto the surface completely enough to prevent yourself from spilling off the edge. You tugged your shirt back down over your belly, though it was riding up as soon as you shifted your weight again.
"Did you see the look that nurse gave when she took your weight?" I asked, pulling a square of chocolate from the bag in my pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth, my hand resting on your warm back, a treat for making such a spectacle just by being; just by standing where they told you to stand. I offered two more squares, just as the doctor knocked, your greeting muffled by your full mouth. As if you needed to look any fatter, here you were chewing away as they came in, unable to hide their surprise at the size you'd attained.
The doctor was responsible and reasonable. There wasn't any way for them to know that each cautious warning, each polite inquiry about your diet and exercise habits, each directional prognosis was going to be further fuel to the flames igniting your hedonistic immersion as soon as you walked out the office doors.
Was your heart rate that high from the strain of pumping blood through such a large, overfed body? Or were you just excited to hear how much you'd given yourself over to excess?
Your blood pressure ticking towards hypertension would mean some diet adjustments, just not the ones the doctor was recommending. How could someone saying "concerning weight gain" not make both of our hearts leap, make both of us want to accelerate your gain even more? I answered most of the questions the doctor had, took every piece of medical advice under advisement. Knowing what your body needed would help us push the limits of what you body wanted; keep the ecstacy of your indulgence growing and sustainable.
I allowed the base assumption you'd be losing weight exist falsely in the air of the small room long enough to feel fun. Joint strain would mean more sedentary time and assistance making small movements, not regimented cardio. Balance issues would mean buying that chair you'd been saying you needed in the shower, not risking a fall by having you move around more. Blood sugar fluctuations would mean monitoring, not mitigating your favorite treats until we had to. Your chunky face never faltered, you nodded along, never ashamed or embarrassed, just as confident in every glance my way that every choice you'd made along this path was worth the additional complicating factors we'd manage together.
The doctor wrapped up their exam, no doubt confident they'd curbed their patient's descent into the "risks" of obesity with their assessments and "helpful" guidance.
With a dramatic sigh, I stood in front of you. "I guess there's only one thing to do," I said, taking your belly with both hands and letting it plop down into your lap. You grinned, that look you always gave me that meant you needed one thing above all else. "I thought you looked hungrier than usual, having to listen to all that."
Helping you to your feet, I supported you regaining your balance, the only obstacle between you and your next stuffing being the number of waddle-like steps you needed to make it to the car. I couldn't help wondering if I'd need to drive you to the entrance next year, if your weight would warrant that much less movement. A feeder could dream.
hesitant indulgence @softoverhang - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
