Glorifying Obesity - Tumblr Posts
One proud piggy👏🐷😋
Celebratory 'fattest I've ever been' post 🐖
Thicc boi can lie on me if he's tired🥵😋
Working retail as a fat bastard is not it. My poor poor overtaxed back is so sore the entire time, all I want is to sit but they won’t let me 😡
Thinking about the day they sit me down, tell me my size is affecting my job performance too much and fire me 😮💨
Yes please asap
Feedees reblog if
The only thing you want to do is be forcefully tied to a large bed while your feeder brings you copious amounts of food for weeks, months, even years. You just want to watch your body slowly blow up like a calorie filled sack. Your feeder making you stuff yourself endlessly every day until your belly grows so absolutely enormous you can’t see your fat swollen feet anymore. You want to be so riddled with fat that you can’t possibly heave yourself over without help. Your ass weighing you down along with your cellulite stuffed thighs. All you want is to be a useless eating machine gorging non stop until your arms are so heavy you can’t even bring them to your fat engorged face leaving your feeder no choice but to strap a tube into your pathetic hog mouth and fill you like a human balloon. You also know the consequences of eating like a pig and you don’t care. You just want to be helplessly obese even if your heart struggles to pump. You just want to be fed, rubbed, and played with.
This is a perfect way to spend, well, the rest of my life. Lounging, gorging and growing and some boys fetching, carrying and fattening me up.
“Huff… puff… hey, son, bring yer old man another beer, eh? I’m kinda -buuurrrpp! -stuck ‘ere”
Such beauty should be recognised and encouraged.
Come on, fella. Come feed and grow with me, boi. We could make each other SO fat.
2024-Jan Post 2 - awesome growing man- @huggernaut90 - Part 2
Another bite.
Your gut is fighting against your waistband, and with that last swallow, your waistband is starting to lose. I can see your hand flutter weakly towards the center of your swollen belly, fingers reaching toward the creaking denim interrupted by a shiny copper button.
I take your hand and push it down to your soft thigh. No, you WILL eat your way out of these jeans. You struggle slightly; visibly and uncomfortably stuffed.
You said you wanted me to make you fat, no, massive. Even as you struggle to take in a full breath, I can see the flush in your face. You can’t get enough of this feeling.
Another bite.
Your eyes roll back. A groan escapes your lips just long enough for me to stuff another bite in. Your jeans creak a little. Not enough. You squirm, your gut starting to cover the button.
Another bite.
You can’t help but moan as you chew. Constant muffled grunts and moans, noises somewhere between pain and ecstasy as you stuff yourself.
More. MORE.
You’ve slowed down. You can’t slow down, you’re so close. I stuff a full handful of food into your mouth and hold my hand against your lips. Swallow. I replace my empty hand with a full one. You are starting to sweat, chewing and swallowing and groaning all the while. Your shirt is skintight now, riding up past your deep belly button. You start to squirm harder, barely able to find purchase pinned under the weight of your nearly comically swollen belly.
Another handful passes your lips. Ill let you up once you can get out of those jeans without unbuttoning them. I’ll rub your poor gut, but you can’t stop eating for me. You wanted to be massive, you have to EAT.
You struggle to swallow. Even your skin feels too tight now. You feel like you’re sinking into the couch under your own weight. It’s been a long time since you could see anything other than your gut looking down, but you’ve never seen so much of it.
Get fat for me. Get so fucking massive you’ll never be able to touch yourself again. So fucking horny from every ripple of your body. EAT.
You feel a sharp twinge; simultaneously hearing a loud snap. The button from your jeans flies clean off, pinging around the floor. True to my word, I reach down and rub your stuffed, swollen belly.
Just a break for now, the delivery will be here in 10 minutes. I know you’ll make more room for me then.
It’s amazing, really.
You’ve gone from a thin waif of a human to an oversized cow in less than a year. Although you deny it, your face has lost its once sharp jawline. Pudgy cheeks led to double chins, directly into shoulders so covered in fat it looks comical. You don’t have much of a chest, just several rolls of fat piling on top of each other as they reach your gut. You look like a melted ice cream cone, belly spread over your knees and half of the bed beneath you. If I lift your gut, your thighs take up just as much space. Finding pants that fit is almost impossible now, even if the length is right barely anything fits over your ass. Even your fingers feet and toes are puffy and round now.
Remember being so small? I doubt you could ever get small again. Now that you’ve been nothing but stuffed for almost a year, I think you’ll need to have a permanent live in feeder. Your belly is constantly growling, even when your skin looks like a balloon ready to burst. No, you’re going to be a piggy forever.
Only a month to put on 30 pounds? Oh piggy, you’ll put on much much more. Sit in this chair for me ok? I love the way your ass spreads to cover the entire seat. Give me those fat little wrists, they look better tied up on top of that soft gut.
Oh dear, your tummy is grumbling awfully loud. lol have to fix that for you, greedy pig. Open wide, that’s it. You take to a funnel so well, I think I’ll just strap it on. There you go, keep up now. That was only the first glass. I have two gallons of gainer shake to fill you with, hope you can manage.
Oof, feeling full yet piggy? You look so soft and jiggly, you even slosh when I touch you. I know you can fit some more in there. Turn off that brain for me, just swallow and feel how nice it feels to be massive and sloshy for me. You don’t even know how many days worth of calories you’ve sucked into that belly, although I’m sure it would only drive you wild.
How’s the rope on your wrists? Looks awfully tight, it’s almost as if every swallow just piles the new fat right on. Hear that? The chair is groaning louder than you are, pig. You can get fatter for me, I know it. Feel how soft you are now, just squeezing your thighs sends a wave through every inch of fat on your body.
You’ve had more than three gallons of gainer shake now, aren’t you a massive fat cow? It’s hard to tell if you have tits or if you’re just so massively obese. I think I’ll try and milk them anyway, be a good pet and keep sucking down that shake while I play with them? Don’t worry, even heavy with milk they won’t outsize that gut of yours.
Poor cow, did the chair have enough? Good, cows stay on the floor and eat and give milk. Feel how your belly hits the ground between your legs? You can’t stop until it touches the ground on your sides too.
Look how flushed you are! Are you embarrassed at how much milk I got out of your fat tits? You’re such a good pet, I won’t waste a single drop. You’ve gained so much I doubt most scales could measure your massive size. Although, you’d be hard pressed to stand to try anyway. I think I’ll go ahead and remove that funnel now. No?
Alright fat cow, drink up.
Make me fatter.
A wave of fat ripples across my body as I reach for my throbbing dick. It’s so much harder to reach now, smashed between two fat lips and even fatter thighs, not to mention my fupa the size of a melon.
Make me so fucking fat I can’t cum without you.
I squirm desperately to get a grip on my fat little cock. Once again, slipping between rounded fingers. The bed groans with every thrust of my hips. It was never meant to hold this much man, not built to withstand the sheer force of hundreds of pounds of fat jostling to and fro. Bathed in sweat, I tug at my gut and shudder at the sensation. I thrust upwards, harder, and gasp as the wave of cellulite impacts the folds covering my member.
You’ll have to feed me until I can’t even move an inch under my weight.
Gasping for air, I try to thrust even harder. Gods I’ve gotten fat. Fighting against immense exhaustion, I roll to the side and tuck an arm under my massive gut. Finally, my fat fingers get a nice grip. My stomach growls.
Hear that? Every bit of pleasure makes me desperate for more. Feed me more. Stuff me. I’ll be good and down it all.
Eat. I know you’re ravenous. I don’t mind that it’s late, order whatever you’d like. I promise I’ll bring it in as soon as it gets here.
Give me that belly, I’m gonna cover it in tiny kisses until you can have your fill. Just think about how sensitive you’ll be with your skin stretched tight, showing off every last bite you stuffed into yourself.
I know you’re so hungry you can barely stand it. Don’t worry, I ordered extra just for you. I know you can finish it all.
Remember when your tummy was flat? How’s it feel bulging over your waistband? Now that the weight is starting to stick, you won’t be able to lose it again. Not with how you eat. Are you blushing? Greedy thing. Go on then, go get something to munch on.
Feel like you might explode? Another bite. You won’t explode. Not yet. Your gut is nearly entirely covered in angry red stretch marks now; I won’t stop stuffing you until every inch of it is. You look like you might blow from one poke. Eat more, I know you’re not full. If you were, you’d be pinned under that gut, and you’re still wiggling enough to resist another gulp. Give in, pig. Stop fighting, let me stuff you senseless. You won’t ever feel hungry again, always stuffed so tight you’re nearly in tears. You’re going to get so fat for me. Eat.
Just busted out of my first pair of dress pants and now I have to go and stuff myself some more 🥵
Another bite.
Your gut is fighting against your waistband, and with that last swallow, your waistband is starting to lose. I can see your hand flutter weakly towards the center of your swollen belly, fingers reaching toward the creaking denim interrupted by a shiny copper button.
I take your hand and push it down to your soft thigh. No, you WILL eat your way out of these jeans. You struggle slightly; visibly and uncomfortably stuffed.
You said you wanted me to make you fat, no, massive. Even as you struggle to take in a full breath, I can see the flush in your face. You can’t get enough of this feeling.
Another bite.
Your eyes roll back. A groan escapes your lips just long enough for me to stuff another bite in. Your jeans creak a little. Not enough. You squirm, your gut starting to cover the button.
Another bite.
You can’t help but moan as you chew. Constant muffled grunts and moans, noises somewhere between pain and ecstasy as you stuff yourself.
More. MORE.
You’ve slowed down. You can’t slow down, you’re so close. I stuff a full handful of food into your mouth and hold my hand against your lips. Swallow. I replace my empty hand with a full one. You are starting to sweat, chewing and swallowing and groaning all the while. Your shirt is skintight now, riding up past your deep belly button. You start to squirm harder, barely able to find purchase pinned under the weight of your nearly comically swollen belly.
Another handful passes your lips. Ill let you up once you can get out of those jeans without unbuttoning them. I’ll rub your poor gut, but you can’t stop eating for me. You wanted to be massive, you have to EAT.
You struggle to swallow. Even your skin feels too tight now. You feel like you’re sinking into the couch under your own weight. It’s been a long time since you could see anything other than your gut looking down, but you’ve never seen so much of it.
Get fat for me. Get so fucking massive you’ll never be able to touch yourself again. So fucking horny from every ripple of your body. EAT.
You feel a sharp twinge; simultaneously hearing a loud snap. The button from your jeans flies clean off, pinging around the floor. True to my word, I reach down and rub your stuffed, swollen belly.
Just a break for now, the delivery will be here in 10 minutes. I know you’ll make more room for me then.
Every last crumb.
I told you before you started stuffing yourself that I’d check. You wanted to be a good pet and eat, you’ll finish every last morsel. Feel how tight your skin is, pig. You’d better make room, you have half of the cake left. I smirk, watching you struggle into a better position to take the next bite.
Your thighs are tied together, supported mostly by your fat distended belly. Facedown in a cake, cheeks coated in crumbs and frosting, groaning with every swallow as the stretch marks on your gut begin to redden and ache. You’ll have so many new ones to add to your collection, proof of your uncontrollable hedonism permanently etched into your skin.
Look at your chest. You’ll be needing a bra to keep that all together fatty, if I didn’t know any better I’d try and milk you with how big you’ve made them. In any case, from this position I doubt you can see past them anyway, just two massive blobs of fat covered in chocolate.
Oh? You’re almost done? No, pet. Roll over and sit against the edge of the bed. I have a drink for you to wash it all down. Take your funnel. Your eyes roll back as thick, creamy shake fills your mouth, immediately adding pressure to your belly.
I pat the top edge of your gut, and pour faster. Your gut is visibly turning a bit pink around the belly button.
Swallow. You can fit it all. A loud gurgle resonates in response, and your hands reach under your gut and hold tight, as if to prevent you from expanding any more.
Pig. Finish it. Be a good pet. I slap the side of your gut and knock the last drops into the funnel.
You look massive, pet. I promised you wouldn’t feel hungry again. I’ll be back in an hour to fill you again.
Starting to have fattening dreams every night. I just want to be fatter than I am tall. Feed me so I can get stuck in doors for you? Don’t you want to tease me when my gut loudly gurgles in public for another meal? Don’t you want to control my wardrobe so every last bit of clothing is too small to handle one full meal. Make my buttons snap off in public while you loudly taunt me for my insatiable greed. Fill me up even more for being an embarrassment. Fatten me up so fucking much that even you get a little afraid at how quickly I can pack away pounds of food. I want to struggle to get into pants, heave myself up stairs with sweaty palms, so fat that no one can believe I’m still mobile.
Feed me every hour. Please. Make my gut touch the ground, make a spectacle out of my greed. Make it plainly clear that I have no control over my hunger. Feed me. More. Mmm-hic-mmmm. Tell me I’m fat, that I can’t stop gaining, that I’ll never be thin again. Tell me I’ve ruined my body, that I’ve just become a heavy hairy hog for you to feed and fuck. Feed me into submission, feed me more and more. I don’t care if I look like I’ll burst!
I can take it. Make me fatter. Fatter! Just a greedy, flabby pet enslaved by his gut. Think you can handle 800lbs of belly? Let’s find out.
Sharing again since my fattening thoughts are resonating with all you fatties out there
Stuff me. Funnel feed me. Force feed me when I can’t keep up. Tease me about not fitting into anything I own no matter how I try. Fill every space I occupy with snacks. Hand me food when I’m distracted and praise me for finishing it all absentmindedly.
Make days where I must gorge every hour, the entire day filled with my belly packed to bursting. Stretch my gut with carbonated drinks, fill me with heavy cream, force me out in public in clothes two sizes too small.
Order for me at restaurants, whisper quietly that I’d better finish it or you’ll force me at home.
Fill me with beer and slosh my gut uncontrollably. Smoke me out and cover the bed with fattening snacks. Collar me and feed me until it snaps off the fat roll that used to be my neck.
Make me your fat pup, obese hog, house cow, I don’t care. Make me your personal experiment in how fat you can make someone. I want to see the flint in your eye as I beg you to stop feeding me.
Make me groan when you push on my packed belly hanging out of my shirt. Tell me how I’ll never drop the weight, how I’m controlled by my greed. Walk me around town and taunt me to keep up.
Stuff me in your car and stop at every single fast food place we pass. Make me finish before you teach the next one, and order double if I don’t. I want to feel so heavy that I’m stuck in that seat. Feed me until I can’t stretch the seatbelt over my gut even with an extender.
Remind me how I used to be the feeder, and how I couldn’t stop myself from becoming a greedy useless pig.
Make my gut stick out so absurdly far from my body that it almost looks fake. Feed me until I grow fat tits pushing up towards my chin. I want my love handles to be too big to grab in one hand, rendering them useless.
Fatten me up. Make me fatter. So so much fatter.
I’ve never been so bloated and full.
I gorged myself on a box of pierogi, drank almost a gallon of egg nog, my gut looks comically round against my frame and I’m fighting with the idea of stuffing myself even more or letting this belly rest. My skin feels too tight, my belly won’t stop making protesting gurgles, I feel like I might pop with every breath.
But I want more. To wake up feeling and looking fatter. To get stuck in my old hoodie with my gut sticking out the bottom. Fuck I want to be fat. So grotesquely obese that I don’t even pass for a person. Just a heavy blob of greed, only functional to eat and grow. How fat can I get with my own brain encouraging me like this 🥵🥵🥵
Hhhhhngghh 🥵🥵
Yes pleaseeee
Update: I’m pinned to my bed groaning and burping. I did it….i still want MORE. FUCK.
My belly button went from an innie to level with my tight gut. Maybe if I just gorge a bit more I’ll pop it to an outie. I look like I stuffed a full beach ball in my belly and I’m hot and whimpering just knowing it’ll all turn into soft fat.
I just made a massive bowl of oatmeal made with heavy cream and sugar and applesauce and I’m only halfway through struggling each bite
My gut aches. My brain is glazed over, just like my eyes. I can’t stop eating. I’ll never be this thin again.
Fuuuuck 🥵🥵🥵