Gotta get HUGE!

27 Future mega chub, looking to grow as big as possible, I have no limits to my size. Why see 50 years when I can see 1000 poinds 🐷🐽🐖

[mortallyscentedparadise]

~the fatter you are, the more there is to love~

[bellybigboy]

Finally able to show off to everyone how fat I got over winter

Went to the lake with some friends today to cool down a bit from the heat and it was the first time people really noticed how fat I am. Didn‘t even take 5 minutes after taking my shirt off for my friends starting to call out how fat and massive I am. They seemed impressed however and it definitely felt amazing looking like that in a group with 6 other men who all had visible abs.

Of course I had to double down on it and in the course of the entire afternoon I had a huge portion of curry-sausage with fries, an entire pizza, a sandwich and chicken wings and some ice cream. They were mostly impressed with the amount of food I ate and they started to understand how I got to this physique. A friend even called me out after the pizza that it’s insane how much I eat and that he doesn’t wonder how I got to have this huge belly carrying around with me. The same friend then proceeded to give me the left overs of his food saying „I can’t eat that anymore but Im convinced that there’s more than enough space in your belly left for it“

[thatonebigchub]

Holy shit…

[weightgainworld]

Consequences

You asked for this. You kept begging me to make you fatter, so you get to deal with the consequences. You are going to get fed like the heifer you are. That's why I got you this trough. You always had this issue of being too full to keep shoving food in your mouth. I do not want to hear any excuses now. You are going to get fed with enough grease to keep you fat and bloated all day. If you really want to gain for me, you are eating 8 hours a day. That means the second you get home from work, I expect to see a snack in your hand. You are getting daily weigh-ins as well. If your weight goes down, you are getting hand-fed by me till you learn to be a good, prized hog. You need to get fatter for me. If you want my praise, you need to show me you actually want to grow. That means stretching your gut even when it hurts. It means ending the night with a liter of gainer shake to top you off. I want you big enough that just looking at large clothing will be a joke. I want you to become a regular at all the fast-food restaurants. I even want the Uber Eats drivers to memorize your insanely large orders. If everyone doesn't know how huge you got because of me, I am not showing you off enough.

[m0ttif-cool-deactivated20260510]

Make me THIS

Wide.

Huge.

Big.

Enormous.

Fatter!

[thatonebigchub]

Oh. My. God.

[sp96fat]

I can’t stop thinking about it anymore.

I want it so fucking bad. I need a feeder who doesn’t give a shit about limits, who sees how pathetic and greedy I already am and just… keeps pushing.

I want to be trapped under hundreds and hundreds of pounds of my own soft, useless blubber. I want my belly to sag so heavy it pins me to the bed, rolls cascading over rolls, sweat pooling in every deep crease while I wheeze just from existing. I want stretch marks like lightning bolts splitting across my skin, red and angry at first, then turning silver as proof of how much I’ve surrendered.

I want to feel the tube shoved down my throat when my jaw gets too tired, thick calorie sludge pumping straight into me 24/7—shakes so dense they feel like cement, heavy cream, melted ice cream, oil slicking everything. I want my body to forget what hunger even feels like because I’m never empty. Ever. Just constantly bloated, aching, leaking, my heart hammering against layers of fat like it’s trying to escape before it gives out.

I want my legs to fuse into useless pillows of cellulite, my arms too swollen to lift, my chins multiplying until I can barely turn my head. I want to be so immobile that the only movement is the jiggle when someone slaps my gut or forces another funnel session. I want my feeder’s hands sinking wrist-deep into my sides while they whisper how much prettier I’ll be when I’m closer to the edge, when every breath is a struggle, when my body is finally giving up exactly like I begged it to.

I’m already ruined for anything else. Normal life? Gone. Thin? Laughable. I don’t want escape. I want to sink deeper. I want to be their perfect, disgusting, dying pig—swollen, sweaty, horny and helpless, cumming from the pressure alone while my arteries clog and my organs drown in lard.

Please.

Make me so fat I can’t come back.

Make me so fat I stop breathing under my own weight.

I’m begging for it. I’m dripping just typing this.

I’m not leaving this path. I’m already too far gone. 🐷💦🍰

[adelicateeagle]

Pig

I want to make you too fat to get off on your own, whining and begging for it.

Pathetically grinding your fatass on the couch to hump your own lard to seek some relief. Out of breath, gasping and giving up after 1 min.

And when your fatpad is big enough just waddling to the fridge to get more food would get you off feeling you fat massage your buried cock Cumming halfway between the couch and fridge, wheezing, snorting and grunting, needing some support from the nearest surface, trying to catch your breath. Barely a patch on your tight sweatpants because your cock is buried so deep between your fupa, belly and thighs rolls, your balls so crushed by it, that all you manage is only a pitiful dollop of cum. Still when you see me in the kitchen, you ask between two moan and snort, that I help you to the living room, that you’re too tired and need your couch, as if you just run a marathon.

[raev7]

Do you ever try masturbating while you're stuffed to your max?? Hope this isn't too invasive to ask

Isn't that the second best way to get off? Lol ☺️

[basilitron]

I used to try to seem "respectable" and "reasonable" about this kink.

Fuck that!

I'm a proud FAT FETISHIST.

My biggest desire in life is to get as obese as I can. It turns me on, it gets me off. All I want is to bloat up fatter, softer, wobblier.

I don't care anymore. If people hate me for it, even better. Just means I'm doing the right thing for ME and nobody else.

[little-chubstr]

100% this. Very much my feelings as well!

[fleetwoodbigmacs]

the big fat hungry belly that ensures I’ll never be skinny again

[fleetwoodbigmacs]

Something about the full body shave that I feel makes me look especially fat. This is from a while ago, should I do it again? :3

[urges-to-gain]

Back to regular scheduled belly

[bigfatjeebusblog]

[fatty-lit]

I wish I could stop. I really do, but it feels like everyday I get heavier and everyday it takes more to fill me up, and the more it takes to fill me up the greater to uncontrollable desire to be filled becomes. It's like my own gravity pulls me in deeper with every ounce of fat layered on to my growing body.

It started out so cute and fun. Some water bloats to make my flat tummy round. But that didn't last. It couldn't have. Pretending was only going to last so long until the underlying desire forced itself into manifestation.

The first real stuffing also seems so cute and innocent looking back on it. Just a standard combo meal at the nearby fast food spot. It seemed like so much food back then, and it was to my petit frame, but in reality, it was no more than a normal person would eat. I was just a normal person back then with a weird desire. And I was certainly full from it, but I didn't necessarily push my capacity. I didn't eat until it hurt. I didn't eat until I physically couldn't take another bite. Just an innocent indulgence. A one off thing, only to be repeated on special occasions when I really needed it. When the desire was so unbearable that I had to. I didn't want to get fat, after all. Well, I mean I did. I wanted that more than anything. It's what I imagined with my cute little water bloats. It's what I imagined during that first stuffing. I imagined what it would be like if my belly was the size empty as it was when it was bloated. I imagined it bigger. And bigger. And bigger. The bloats were to make that imagining easier. Real. But that first stuffing was something different. Something more powerful. I wasn't just able to imagine myself bigger, I was able to feel what it would be like to make myself big. And it felt good. It felt so much better than the water too. The water filled me up, but it didn't make me full. Now I was full. And I revelled in it. I felt more than just full. I felt fulfilled.

The next one came a lot sooner than I thought it would. The desire was already feeling overwhelming, but I could still last a couple days back then. And I was able to hold off a couple days at a time for a while. Those might have been the glory days of it all when I did have the self control to hold myself back, just for a little bit. Then when I did release. It felt so good. I felt so bad finally letting loose. Allowing myself to get fat. And I knew I was going to get fat. I always knew, but now the time had finally come. The dam hadn't broken yet, but the cracks were there. I could see them grow.

I felt the very first pound. It sounds silly but I remember it. I remember spending a whole week pinching the tiniest bit on flab on my lower belly. That week I ate fast food most days and made myself cum holding onto that small pinch of flab after every meal.

The memories are the clearest from those early days. The more frequently and intensely I stuffed myself, the more each stuffing blended together. I remember milestones. I remember outgrowing my first pair of pants. I remember that first little red stretchmark growing under my rounding belly where I could barely see it. I remember when my double chin became permanent. I remember the first time stopping halfway up the stairs to my apartment because I needed to catch my breath. But I don't remember when I realized that the dam had fully broken. When it finally ceased to exist. I don't remember the first time hitting up two drive-thrus on the same day. I don't remember the first time I still felt hungry after a double cheeseburger and fries. I don't remember when my belly started resting on my lap. I don't remember when it started spilling between my thighs. I don't remember when I started having to lift it up to reach. I don't remember when it stopped being a desire and started being a need. When I had to eat until it hurt. When I had to end my days swollen and groaning.

That's how I ended last night. And the night before. And the night before that. That's how I'm going to end tonight. I'm almost there. I can feel it. My breath heavy. Each inhale fighting to lift the massive weight of all the fat and calories crammed in my enourmous belly. Each exhale pushed out by the very same force. I'm already past the point at which anyone else would stop, but I know myself. I've done this enough times by now. I know there's still room for a few more bites. A few more calories. And because I know, I know I have to keep going. I have to be filled. If I can just lift myself up one more time. Use the little strength in my round fat arms to push myself upright. Roll that massive distended gut and push it between my thighs on my way up. I can't see it, but I know it's just ove the horizon of the ball of fat pinning me down. There's two more brownies in the tray on the coffee table and half a glass of full-fat milk right next to them to wash them down. If I can just sit up, I can satify the thing keeping me down.

The first push comes to nothing. I barely budge myself. All I accomplish is angering my belly which is fully occupied struggling to digest the mass of calories forced into it again tonight. It doesn't want to be disturbed and it lets me know. I'm hot and out of breath, but the mental image of what I must look like lying here on this couch gets me worked up again. Nothing on but a sports bra and a tortured pair of stretch-out panties. Grease on my fat cheeks and double chin from way too many slices of pizza. Looking massive, bloated, and unbeleivably fat beached on the couch. Pudgy fingers resting on and stroking the protruding mound of fat, riddled with angry red stretchmarks etched into it by the unsustainable speed of its growth, and pinning me down into these cushions. The dominating force of my gluttony. I feel fat and disgusting. I feel unbearably horny and desparate for those last two brownies.

I'm tired, I'm weak, I'm out of breath, but all of it just makes me even hornier and even more motivated to sink deeper into it all. It takes everything to get my bloated body back to an upright position. I have to spread my rippling dimpled thighs as wide as they'll go to make room for the sloshing mass of my gut to rest inbetween them and sink onto the cushion of my couch - I can't remember when that started happening either, but I know it's been that way for a while. And I love it. I greedily shove the first brownie in my mouth. It's almost too much to it. Gooey bits of chocolate stick on my pudgy cheeks and crumbs bounce down the slope of my belly and onto the dirty carpet below. I sound like a hog trying to breathe through my full mouth. Chewing feels like a asphixiated enternity, but I finally make enough room for a gulp of cool creamy milk. Then do the same with the second. I shoudl have given myself a chance to catch my breath, but I'm not in control. The second one is even harder to finsh - almost impossible - and that's how I know I'm there. I chug the last few gulps of milk to be sure. Dribbles of cool liquid slide down my fat chin and onto the hot stretch out skin of my belly and it feels so good. If I could stand, I'd take a shower, but I'm fated to pass out here amongst the remains of my feast. A fat sweaty hog.

My night's over. I'm too painfully stuffed and exhausted to even mastrubate. I'm going to need someone to help me with that soon.

[garlicbrednmore]

Funnel feed me gainer shake every morning.

Tie me to the bed before I can even wake up and when i do shove the funnel in my mouth and make me drink 3000 calories of creamy, sweet, gluttonous lard.

Make sure I don’t even have a chance to stop or slow down what you’re doing to my body. You’ve decided I’m going to be a greedy, stuffed pig before I’ve even had the time to form a thought.

So what’s the point in slowing down if I’m just going to get fatter anyway.

Might as well just give in and get as fat as possible.

[feedismandrituals]

Easter is gone.

Normal people treat holidays or massive binges as exceptions. They talk about "recovering" or "burning it off" the next day. The massively obese blobs lie to themselves using the same language, pretending the 10,000 calorie feast of the previous day is a blip, rather than the fresh foundation they are actively building upon. This ritual strips away the "cheat day" delusion and forces them to revere the sedimentation of pure, unburned lard.

Ritual XIX: The Sedimentation

Normal people look at the day after a massive holiday feast as a time to recover. They fast. They complain about feeling sluggish, then they move on.

But you are not normal people anymore. You haven't been for hundreds of pounds.

For a body that has deliberately sacrificed its mobility and structural integrity for sheer, crushing volume in pure lard, a massive holiday binge is not an exception. It is simply new material delivered to a construction site that never closes.

You don’t recover from yesterday’s 10,000 calories. You celebrate for them to sediment.

The Directive: This is the rite for the morning after the spectacle. When your stomach is still hard as a rock from yesterday’s abuse, and your sugary fatty blood is a toxic, syrupy mess.

Do not try to pretend you are going to eat "lightly." Do not ignore the thick, tight pulling of the new stretch marks across your swollen, heavy apron.

Instead, the moment you wake up on the "Day After", while you are still breathless just from lying on your back, feeling the fresh layer of density pressing up against your lungs, you will do the following.

The Mechanic: Do not get out of bed yet. As you lay on your back feeling the suffocation from your motionless obese lard, reach down to the heaviest, lowest part of your gut. The part that hangs so thick and lifeless you can barely lift it anymore. Slide both hands under it. Weigh it. Lift it an inch if you can, and then let it drop entirely, heavy and suffocating, onto your thighs or the mattress. Repeat.

Listen to the thick, damp sound of that fat settling. Feel the grotesque heat radiating from the friction between those folds that never see the light.

Now, order your next heavy meal immediately. Before you've even digested the catastrophe of the day before.

Speak the truth into the silence of the room:

"There is no recovery. Yesterday’s excess is today’s foundation. I will never burn this off. I am only here to gain more weight."

Eat while you are still uncomfortably, agonizingly full from the day prior. Let the new food push violently against the old, expanding your stomach capacity, ripping the stretchmarks a little wider, forcing your struggling heart to work twice as hard just to keep you alive and digesting.

Normal people "bounce back". You don't. You sink deeper. You sediment.

Acknowledge the permanent damage, and gorge again.