#feedee thoughts

[carolinequinnx]

I know we’re all so obsessed with the skinny girl getting fat. But what about the girl that’s been fat her whole life because some variety of feedism has existed in her bones from literal birth she just never knew what to call it

[slobbyrat]

Fat people look good in everything and I’m so tired of society lying to us.

This isn’t even coming from a fetish perspective. Fat people look good in everything.

Show some tummy, show off those love handles, wear striped clothing, be the sexy bitch you were born to be

[chubbibabi]

New lingerie came in mid stuffing!

OnlyFans is the social platform revolutionizing creator and fan connections. The site is inclusive of artists and content creators from all

Full vid on only fats, featuring a real good fart 😘

[marcus4002]

I don't understand why being/getting fat isn't glorified. It is the hottest thing a person can do

[hungrysapphic]

girlfriend just said "we don't fit our clothes, but we still fit each other" as a sweet little anniversary statement and i just - love when feedism can feel cute and normal like any other part of the relationship. saying "you're so fat" and meaning "you're so beautiful" until the words become so natural that you say them in public, without thinking, because they *are* natural, it's the most natural thing in the world, what love and romance were always meant to be

[siren-seductress-x]

Last night, from both side angles. 🥵 Getting harder and harder to do things alone.

[voluptia-blogs]

She opens another tub of ice cream, the combination of excitement, the coldness and a sugar rush making her hands quiver. Clumsily, she spoons multiple scoops into her bowl, already streaked with previous portions, blobs of cream, chocolate and fudge sauce smeared on the edges. In a stroke of what she considers genius, she reaches above her, with some effort, into the cupboard, feeling around for the packet of chocolate digestives she left in there. Her pudgy hands making contact with it, she pulls it out, giggling to herself softly. Ripping the packaging open, she grabs a hefty handful of the biscuits, crushing them between her doughy palms, crumbling the remains over her ice cream, licking the crumbs and melted chocolate off of them once she's satisfied with the mountain she's built. 

Waddling the few steps from her kitchen to her living room, she throws herself onto her sofa, ignoring the crack and creak of the long-suffering frame beneath her, and settles back in to her favourite position: horizontal, on her back, her belly rising and falling softly, her view of her lower half a distant memory. Resting her slowly melting bowl of creamy, crumbly slop on her chest, her breasts falling either side of her, she sighs, reaching awkwardly down her side to wrestle the television remote from beneath her bloated rolls, ready for another evening doing what she does best: stuffing her face.

On the coffee table, pulled close for convenience, piles of her favourite snacks. Chocolate wrappers torn and discarded carelessly. Cans of her current favourite soft drinks, all drained dry. Greasy takeaway boxes scraped clean of their contents. She's eaten particularly well today, and she can feel it. Her stomach feels dense, gurgling almost constantly, digestion trying to match the pace of her consumption. Her face sticky, remnants of past food sitting in the corners of her mouth, her tongue darting between her lips occasionally to try and lick it off. 

“This will surely be my last snack tonight” she thinks to herself, knowing full well that she's lying to herself. She spoons mouthfuls of ice cream and biscuits into her mouth, dripping it down her chins as she reaches back into the bowl. She knows once she's finished this, she'll be struggling to get off the sofa once again, ready to rummage through her fridge, freezer, cupboards, for that “final snack” that will definitely fill her up. A routine well practiced, day after day, yet never mastered. 

Another night, lost to gluttony, and she couldn't be happier.

[funnelmefuller]

i need someone to manhandle my belly and tell me how just fat i'm getting, how tight all of my clothes look, how the button on my pants is holding on for dear life and if i continue to eat itll just pop right off. remind me of all the little differences you see in me now compared to even a few months ago. the floorboards creaming under me now, the way my body jiggles through my clothings when i walk, the fact that my orders at drive thrus keep getting larger. tell me you can't wait to make it impossible for me to wear my favorite outfit again, tell me how you want me to pop the button on my new replacement pants that are already getting too tight. remind me that theres no way in hell that i can reverse what ive done to my body, so i might as well just keep going. not just because i cant bring myself to reverse the effects, but because you know that we both want to see me double the damage thats already been done.

tell me to just keep eating.