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YOU ARE THE REASON

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@thatonefatwriter
Unwealthy Feedees
(TW, poverty, class, money)
There's something so uniquely mind melting about feedism in lower socio-economic classes
I'm not talking poverty necessarily, but anyone who needs to budget their life carefully
Feedees from wealthy families, or ones who either have high paying jobs or whose feeder does can buy whatever food they want to eat. Same for those who top OnlyFans, gorging as public pigs for the masses
But someone so committed to getting fat that they account for their greed, gluttony and lust in their monthly budget- someone whose belly is consuming all their spare income- it's so much more intense
Gorging on nearly expired grocery store snacks, baking their own treats, stockpiling mountains of Holiday flash sale candies as soon as they end, cashing in coupons for grocery carts of food
Feasting on snacks you don't even enjoy, because you can to cram more fat onto your hips if you buy whatever is cheapest. Living in cheap tent-like shirts two sizes too big so that you don't need to buy more so often
Fully giving up on your hobbies or any public display of wealth because that's money that you could be eating away instead
Your kink- the devouring of food and accumulation of fat- isn't that enough of a hobby? Aren't your vast rolls of flesh enough of a show of wealth?
A normal person, might buy games, instruments or paints to work with in their spare time. Or maybe they'd save up for a fancy car, jewelry, or a dress. But instead of any of that, you have YOU. A lard swollen body, and a constant, consuming hunger
It's even hotter in a feedist couple. A feeder with no status symbols to show off, no prizes or valuable items- everything is just enough to get by. Because the only sign of their hard work is their feedee's growing body. The only way you can see how hard they work to make ends meet is that they can manage to keep your insatiable appetite fed
Their hobbies too are given up on. They let your belly be a money sink, someone to spoil, pamper, protect and take care of. Their mission in life is to make sure you're satiated, no matter how difficult you try and make it for them
The only thing the two of you have to show for your life is your fat fucking belly
God forbid, the most intense version of all, where no matter how many sacrifices it takes, no matter how little they're making, they let you be a lazy fat ass stay at home trophy to their hard work. No, it doesn't matter if I'm taking extra shifts to keep you fed, I won't have you wasting any calories lifting a finger
Food waste is such a problem in America, but not for you. Any food that goes to waste can't go around your waist, and you would never misuse your feeder's hard work like that. Every scrap, every morsel they buy you is devoured
Maybe they even let themselves go thin, carefully rationing their own food budget, because every bite they themselves don't eat
You could be
Seeing their ribs more is only ever a turn on, because it means yours are getting that much more buried
So you eat every single bite
After all, if you're going to be giving up everything else for that belly
It had better be big
A perfect and amazing way of describing the trophy feedee for a more average feeder.
The Biggest Fat Kink Art Ever
No, for real, you truly do not know the scale of what we're doing here
Check out The Amazing Custom Made Website, or follow on Picarto to be alerted about daily streams
Come and see an amazing project
All I can think about is encouraging you to keep eating yourself into an early grave.
I want to be there as the doctor tells you that you have early onset heart disease. The moment when they explain that your heart has already started to swell under all of your fat, despite how young you are. How there is no way you can reverse damage like that. How they are worried about how quickly you might have a heart attack.
I want to be there as you stare down at your huge gut and get in the car after hearing what the doctor said. As tears roll down your cheeks and you realise what you have done to yourself.
I want to see you roll your t shirt up over your belly and tell me, choking through tears, “this thing is going to kill me babe”. I want to see you get annoyed and frustrated at what you have done to yourself, as the reality kicks in. I want to see you turn around and tell me “you better look after me, you fucking did this to me and now it’s going to kill me”.
I would lean over and run a finger down your huge distended gut and remind you “no turning back now”.
This got me going so much today, that I am doing only gainer shakes for the whole day. A seep burning desire to make myself worse, fatter, more ruined for all the people hoping for my poor heart to pop. My body is a lard tank. It has one purpose: To eat until I explode.
after you have let yourself become so fat that your doctors have warned your heart is swollen and you have advanced heart disease…I want you to laugh in the car and rub your belly. As you look up at me, sat in the car not quite sure what to do with you. I want you to take your t shirt off and let your gut flow out in the passenger seat.
I want you to laugh as you run two hands down your belly, I want you to turn to me and tell me: “the next time the doctor sees this gut it will be in a morgue if I’m not careful!”
After a few minutes of rubbing your own belly, hands up and down your gut and squeezing at your chest, you will smile as you feel your heart struggle
Afterwards you will turn to me and ask “please make sure this gut and fat doesn’t go to waste, I want you to have fun with me babe” at which point you start to panic as your heart doesn’t feel any better.
In the end your heart gives in and there is no saving you
This got me going so much! I pounded back an extra large malto death shake and gulped until my belly felt like it would burst. I need to gain even faster
Pump a slovenly larder with formulated slop until its coronary artery is overstuffed with buttery cholesterol, weak valves rupturing, morbidly enlarged cardiac muscle slathered in a layer of fresh, visceral adipose. Torture its screaming heart until that worn out piece of soft meat bursts, until it has to get a transplant of a real pig heart. Replace its most vital organ with a piece of what it really is, a nauseating, repulsive pig.
not to be a crazy sadistic feeder but I fucking looooove getting rough with a too-full belly - and yes, it’s because of the way the feedee reacts 🥵 jostling burps out of em rougher than you normally would, feeling them up where they’re the tightest and really pressing in your fingertips… doing anything you can to make them whine, squirm, moan, whimper, beg you to be gentler 🥵🥵
except I am a crazy sadistic feeder
Funneled a shit ton and holy shit ive never sounded this much like a fucking sack of liquid,,,,,,,,,,,, feeling very hott,,,,,,
I wasn't made for being a person.
I can't stand in one spot for too long or my leg goes numb and then I'm in pain. I'm in chronic pain and the meds that treat it cause heat intolerance, so do the meds that treat my mental illness and sleep issues... I'm built to be stationary, and to get fatter. I'm made to sit in a bed and laze.
My mind is built for instant gratification, it's all I crave. The audhd paired with a family history of addiction? My mind craves a crutch to lean on. The weed, the booze, and God... The food.
My PTSD leaves me hesitant to make choices that put me at risk. So, you make the choices for me. If given the option, my anxiety wants me to run. So crush that little voice in my mind. Don't give me the chance to be miserable, pretending not to be a larder.
I've been seeking this out since I first found out about it. I was so young, so small. My dad was 500lbs, but not because he wanted to be. Make me exactly what I want to be. Immobile by 25, the fattest there's ever been by 28.
A dying pig. Gorgeous stacks of fat. My double wide ass propping me an extra half foot in the air. Sit me in front of a tv with everything I need to become your perfect hog.
Use me.
I deserve it :))
Inspired by @thecrownestt
belly dangerously close to spilling out of the frame
Let me reduce your life, your dignity, your humanity to buttery lard, syrupy tears and absolute terror. Watch your revolting gluttony eagerly hand over any agency you had to me, meet your pitiful end in yet another cremated necklace around my neck. Let me win.
you have to spoil and pamper that 300 pound woman until she's a 600 pound baby
It starts small.
A grunt when you rise from your chair, a wobble in your step, thighs brushing closer than before.
Then the struggles pile on.
The couch creaks under you, the computer chair pinches at your love handles, and just standing up leaves you panting.
Your car? A tight squeeze, steering wheel pressed into your gut, every drive another reminder you’ve outgrown control.
Clothes? Buttons bursting, waistbands cutting deep, new sizes bought only to be ruined in weeks.
You’ll eye a scooter in the store, the thought creeping in that wheels might carry your lard better than your useless giant obese legs.
Flights? Forget one seat. Two, maybe three, and strangers starring at your giant blubbery body spilling into their space.
One day, you’ll even hesitate at doorways. Not because you’re unsure, but because you won’t fit anymore.
Even leaving the bed each morning will feel like a battle. Panting, sweating, just to waddle toward the kitchen for your next fix.
And then comes the part you never expected,
Just moving around itself turns erotic. Your thighs swell so massive, so obscene, they grind in symphony with your fupa against whatever’s left of your cock, whatever’s buried of your cunt.
Every step a spark. Every waddle an orgasm.
A pig so ruined by greed you can’t even walk without cumming. Too far gone.
This is where gluttony leads, piggy.
Not fitness. Not health. But paradise.
Beautiful, perfect paradise into extreme, irreversible obesity.
The kind only your goddess could whisper you into.
And you’ll love it. Eat more.
Every wheeze, every moan, every humiliating step deeper into euphoria.
Because this is who you are.
A piece of lard forever growing.
A slave to gluttony forever 🤍
Eaaat more!
How Much longer?
How much longer will it be until you admit you want this? You already spend your time looking at all big fatties the internet. It's only a bit of fun.
How much longer until you let me start taking a box of chocolate to bed to feed you? It's only a little treat.
How much longer until that button pops, the waistband is so tight around your belly? It's only an excuse to finally buy that next size up.
How much longer until you realize It's too late to stop? Your way past your goal weight. It's just a starting point anyway.
How much longer until you get used to having to go sideways through the door? It's only a reminder of just how amazing you look.
Is it kinda weird of me to be watching my 600-pound Life while stuffing my face with a grip of food and drinking sodas and having the urge to gain to pass 600 pounds? Jeje 🥴🤪🐷
Pokemon Trainer Sheepie! Featuring some of the team, they're more like service animals than fighters though! They might sub in for trainers in their local gym sometimes... Blissey is a good caretaker! If chansey are nurses assistance at pokecenters, blissey are more specialized in specific fields. Aipom is the most active part of my team, they help grab things our of reach and rummage through my bag for me! And Azumarill is great for water therapy, as an exercise partner!