doing feedist kink stuff alone is fine. it’s passable. it satisfies a need. but doing feedist stuff with another feedist? whether it’s very subtle things, not-so-subtle things, and everything in between. it’s all so good.
✨ seeing you look over at me when I get in the car to see how much space I’m taking up in it (yes, I see you. I clock it almost every time I’m in the car with another feedist lol)
✨ noticing how your brain short-circuits and you lose track of your words when I talk about how hungry I am, even in a very normal, non-horny way. and how satisfying it is to see you all nervous.
✨ feeling the way your hands sink into me when we hug and linger for a second longer than anyone else’s do. and how much I love the fleeting feeling of you not wanting to let go of that softness.
✨ how happy you are when I ask you to do something for me that relates to eating or taking care of something that is difficult specifically because I’m so fat, and the flutters I get inside as you’re doing it for me. plus, let’s not forget the way you blush when I call attention to how obvious it is that you like doing it for me so much.
✨ the mix of fear and contentment on your face when my huge body is on top of you. like, you don’t want to die right now, but also if you did, you’d die happy. I'd never ever hurt you (unless you wanted me to), but there’s something special about having that power and control over you as you’re almost helpless beneath me.
it’s hard to even describe the way it feels to be with another person who is on your level in that way. the pleasure feedback loop of it all is amazing. i’m lowkey (or highkey tbh) turned on by my body itself, how it interacts with the world, and by the pleasure I get from eating. you’re turned on by my body and by me eating, and the pleasure I get from it, and showing me that you're turned on through looks or touch or words. now i’m more turned on because I know how turned on you are, and I’m going to use that to be even sluttier and turn us both on even more and our straight up horniness for each other and reactions get even more intense as we go. and I know this is just how regular person sex works (ideally) also, but when it’s this thing that made you feel alone for so long, it’s fucking special on a totally different level to participate in it with someone else. it just is!!!
and on a bit more of an emotional note - how good it feels to have a place, in a shared connection with someone else, with a strong sense of belonging. it can be so hard to find that anywhere in the world as a fat person, much less as a feedist, so getting to have it with someone else (online or irl) is essential to my personal fulfillment! and maybe it is for you too!
It was never easy. The blinding, burning, constricting fog that was growing up, squashed under your family's thumb, forever lonely, misunderstood even by yourself. The endless wait to 18, and then once it was there, burning bridges to get out, cramming your books into an old car that barely ran, working full-time at a drive-through just to pay the bills while handling a full course load to build a future. You were still broke, gorging on wrong orders and stale food when your manager wasn't looking to save on groceries. Still always hungry, still always lonely. You were deformed after all, it seemed, friendless nearly forever, branded with the sign of the freak. Nothing to be done. You stayed quiet, stayed sealed up, cherished the few points of light you had—food, music, a handful of friends. You dated, but nothing lasted, heartbreak after inevitable heartbreak, the girls who were bad for you obsessed with you beyond reason and the girls who might've been good for you not interested, wanting somebody who was "more of a man". You thought grad school would finally be different, but it was more of the same, more choking scalding smoke in your eyes and ears. You finally got what you'd been working toward your whole life and it was the same ash in your mouth, and nothing was left but a long life of despair, the end, and then the outer darkness.
Those thoughts are hard to dig up, now. Twenty-five years of life lived and maybe a few years of memories to show for it, the rest lost or buried or burned with a purpose. You don't remember starting to remember, actually, not sure what cracked your egg. A song, maybe, or just a post. Beautiful women in your Twitter recommendations who liked the typical things and had HRT in their bio. And once you knew you could be a woman, you couldn't stop thinking about it, staying up late to research it while the woman who enjoyed nothing more than pushing past your No slept next to you in bed. You went to a sketchy website, ignored the risks, and got the little blue pills shipped to a friend's. And a few weeks later, in a plain white box, your future was waiting for you, little drops of sky in a blister pack.
You tried it, and there was no indecision then, no uncertainty, the machinery of your soul coming alive for the first time. For the first time in your life, you didn't want to die. Things mattered.
Things got worse; they had to. You broke off the engagement—you cared how you were treated now—and begged a friend to move into their spare room, and told no one but a trusted few who you were, and you kept taking the pills. Every day you felt better, stronger, more alive, something dormant and nearly dead brought back into life and full flower. You wanted things, and you wanted to want them. You were hungry, and now you could eat.
And good God, did you eat. You'd always been hungry, making a dancing bear of yourself about it, eating two entrees at dinners and begging for people's leftovers, sneaking extra orders of chicken and fries into the deep fryer at work when you could eat get away with it, but now you were you, and what you ate became you. Your patchy denial beard was quickly forgotten, your hips widened, your tits grew so fast they tore your skin again and again, your face rounded out cherubically. Your skin cleared up, thinned out, was silk under your fingers.
You got a real job, moved to a good town, a little queer enclave, walkable and beautiful and packed with good food. And you ate. You stuffed shamelessly in front of friends, blaming on it on the weed you'd just started smoked, filling out and out until the cute skinny girl you'd started out as was now chubby, outgrowing your new skirts, staining your pretty new tops with sauce and grease, desperate to be the fat girl you'd always dreamed of. 180 became 200 became 220, 230, and you were the fat girl now. The constant, nauseating assault of male attention weakened, and you thought, Okay, it's time to slow down.
Then you met your wife, beautiful and fiery and kind and hurt, a new kind of love that made ones past seem fake, like all along you'd been playing at love until you met her. And you met her on a porn site, on Reddit of all places, and you were drawn to each other. The casual relationships you'd both been in fell away, and across the country, you drew her to you, T4T, real love worth more than gold. Carefully, you patched each other up, and that first year together was one of the happiest times of your life, your little kitty at home with you all the time.
And with all her free time, she learned how to cook for you, and she was good at it. Picadillo, ropa vieja, palomilla steak, arroz con pollo, amazing dishes you'd never even heard of piled high in front of you day after day and piling onto your waist. Your new, perky tits rounded and dropped. Your ass stuck out more and more, folding over your thighs. Your belly grew and grew until it started to dominate your figure. And when she picked up more and more work, she turned that work right back into you, gorging you on the finest things while she pet your hair and told you how much she loved you, putting more and more fat on you so slowly you hardly noticed until you were pushing 300.
It's hard to believe sometimes how much has changed. How much you never even admitted you wanted to yourself and how much more life has dropped into your lap. When you look in the mirror, you see the fat girl of your dreams, and behind her, your wife, grabbing lovingly at the belly she grew on you, her own pressing into your back.
It was never easy, but it was always worth it. You're you.
What do you look forward to the most about getting enormously obese?
hmm probably being surprised about all the new places my fat will go and seeing how it’ll be distributed on my body. I find it so erotic not knowing where new fat rolls are gonna form next🤤 it’s addicting! then when the new curves come, I start thinking about what might be next… and the cycle continues hahaha
To give in completely to indulgence, to take up more space with zero apology. I eat not with hesitation, but with intent. Each bite a step further into the life I’ve chosen. Being full isn’t a reward; it’s the baseline 😊I expect to be fed, be cared for, & be made heavier simply because I want to be. There’s no shame in this. Only hunger, comfort, & the satisfaction of watching myself expand into a perfectly plumped pig, for you to adore🐷🩷
real talk like. YES many fat people eat a healthy diet! lots of fat people don't eat sweets! lots of fat people love veggies! there are fat vegans!
BUT sometimes I see this being used as a gotcha in a way that says "it's okay to be fat because it doesn't mean you're eating Immorally" and I resent that.
I am fat and today I ate three cookies for breakfast. big ones. and that doesn't change the fact that my fatness is amoral and my diet - while objectively not very healthy, this cookie thing is part of a pattern in my life as a stressed out grad student - is also amoral.
it's okay to be fat and love little debbies. and it's okay to be fat and eat little debbies more than you "should." you don't owe your health or nutrition to anyone. everyone should fuck off
I’m going to get you so fat. I don’t mean just slightly overweight, or on the cusp of obesity, I mean so big, your lifestyle will be completely unrecognizable from what it once was. I want to help you give in to that lust for food and gluttony that shines in your eyes, and shows on your body. I want you to know where it’s going to take you in your pursuit of passion. Where I want to take you.
You’re going to turn every shirt you own into a crop top or what looks like a sports bra. Every pair of pants or shorts is going to squeeze your massive belly and create a soft muffin top and leave those beautiful marks on your skin where it hugged you so tightly. Your wingspan is going to be eclipsed by how wide and round you’ve become. You probably won’t be able to reach the front of your belly anymore, and at this point, you’re never seeing your toes again. Pleasuring yourself has become more for a chore, and you’ll need me or a toy to help scratch that itch. Every chair you sit in is going to creak and groan under your immense weight, and your hips and ass will flow over the sides and back.
Nothing is going to be easy for you anymore. Getting up from the sofa or bed takes multiple attempts, and you’re practically ready to sit back down immediately. Your waddle, which was already compensation for how much fat you packed into your thighs, exhausts you and takes your breath away, even with such a short walk to the fridge. You’ll soon have to squeeze through doorways, having to turn sideways and push to get through, all while wheezing. Getting most clothes on might require my help, especially when you’re trying to fit into last season’s jeans while swearing you’ve not gained that much weight. You’ll find it very tiring trying to get into any vehicle, even the SUV I purchased so that you could fit better. That doesn’t stop your hips from burying the console, and the fact you need two or three seatbelt extenders to reach over your plush body. Even the smallest staircase is going to take you 5 minutes to climb up. And while we are at the grocery store, and I’m making sure you point out everything your heart desires, you’ll be on that little scooter because you can no longer walk for 10 minutes without breathing heavily. You will even need a stool for the shower and the kitchen, because your sexy fat-laden legs cannot keep your luscious body up for too long.
Sex will be more difficult, but far more pleasurable. As you get fatter, food has been used in bed more often, and you talk about how obese you want to be. You’ll get exhausted after a few minutes of pounding, but still ask for more. And riding me is more of a workout for you, and squashing for me, but that doesn’t make it any less sexier. I can’t wait to watch you indulge. I can’t wait to watch you and help you grow.
People spend too much time living in fear and trying to stave it off, but the obesity epidemic will win. There's no stopping it. Sooner or later, you and everyone you know will be plumped up fat, with soft curvy bodies and beautifully big bellies.
Don't be afraid, it'll only stress you out. Just embrace it. It's no so bad- in fact it's good. It's ideal. You'll love getting fat. You'll love eating everything you want, and you'll adore that warm feeling you get when your belly is full. You'll find yourself addicted to that feeling, and the newfound sense of accomplishment you get with every new pound and inch of flab. You'll look forward to comparing your body's growth to your friends', seeing how their body has fattened up compared to yours, because nobody's bodies fatten up in the same way.
And when you start to get turned on, comparing your plumped up form to your friends', embrace that too. Because no matter how hard society and pop culture have tried to brainwash you, there's nothing more beautiful or erotic than a beautifully plumped, obese body. Embrace it, worship it, fuck it. Eat more, fuck more, and live the natural life that we all want, deep down.
No matter how hard we try to fight it, deep down everyone wants to eat and everyone wants to fuck. So they should give up on fighting it and give in to gluttony and lust. Grow fatter and fatter, and fuck your friends. You know you want to.
The obesity epidemic is going to win, and it's going to win because you want it to. No matter what you say.
god I can never get enough of you I don’t just want you bigger I need you bigger.
I need to be able to sink my fingers deep into your flesh grabbing handfuls of your fat and feeling its warmth between my fingers, knowing that you’re just as addicted to the idea of you blowing up to unbelievable sizes as I am.
I need to be absolutely enamored by your body tracing my fingers across every single stretch mark of yours taking account of all the new ones, admiring how all the new rolls you have that are starting to from in places we both never knew could get rolls.
I need you to never stop eating for me, I’ll provide you with all you could ask for to make sure any time that could be spent eating isn’t disrupted.
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
2087
snowghoul
vaporwave
