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The Thrill of Getting Fat
Diet culture. We can’t escape it. Always telling us what we shouldn’t eat, that we need to lose weight. Fat is taboo.
So how do we, as feedists, deal with that taboo? We break it. We’re naughty. After all, everybody knows that when someone tells you that you can’t have something, you want it all the more. It’s thrilling to be naughty, to break the rules, to give diet culture the middle finger. It’s thrilling to get fat. I think this is part of the allure of being a feedee: violating the weight taboo.
There’s the open gluttony and getting obscene amounts of food to eat. I can imagine my feeder saying at the drive-through, “three, no I better make that four double burgers just in case they want a snack before dinner,” thereby implying that a full double burger is merely a snack. Or going to a buffet and getting a plate with a comical quantity of fattening desserts.
Then there’s the pleasure of eating. Of course, there’s the taste of the food, but the real thrill is in the choice of food, because I’m not getting fat on vegetables. Oh, no. Diet culture tells us to avoid “junk” or “unhealthy” food, but as a fattening up feedee, I’m feasting on foods everyone else feels guilty about. To vanilla society, each bite is an embrace of depravity.
Of course, the results of feeding are also their own thrill. Other people fret about outgrowing clothes, but I get to look forward to it. Rather than stress over finding time to exercise and lose another pound, I get to be lazy and pleasure myself with decadence. I get to enjoy my budding bulging belly and feel my feeder’s pride in it. And of course, once I’m truly fat, I won’t be able to hide how much space I take up while engaging in flagrant gluttony. It’s quite an act of rebellion to be undeniably fat yet still shamelessly choose the most fattening foods to gorge on.
So, let’s go for a thrill ride. Let’s go out and get something to eat. Let’s go make me fat.
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Eat
Go ahead, eat. Put the food in your mouth and let it slide down your throat. Feel every calorie find it’s way onto your body as soft, luscious fat. You’re addicted to it all. Feeling yourself grow fatter and fatter with every bite consumed. You’re helpless to the cycle of eating and gaining weight. As you feel your belly grow, all you can think about is more. More food means more fat. More fat means more pleasure. Let your inner pig out. Eat.
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I've only ever been on a cruise ship once but I am now thinking about the feedism potentials of them...
The all day buffet, lazy days by the pool, the lack of places to walk around when you're out at sea... all the components are there for you to just perfectly plump up over the course of the cruise, and of course there are lots of comfortable clothes for sale when you inevitably need to go up a size
Imagine a wholly feedist cruise, how many fatties you'd see waddling around on board or looking like beached blubbery seals by the pool with their feeders bringing them another plate from the buffet... or dating events for admirers/feeders to find fatties they vibe with and can share a delightfully fattening meal with
So many possibilities to make you leave a good few pounds heavier than when you walked on the boat to when you're waddling off of it
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I have always been into feedism. The big, soft, jiggling tummies just always did it for me and after gaining weight on accident I decided fuck it, why not join in on the fun.
After all, I have a lot of self control, I can always just stop and loose the weight if I don't like it...
So I stuffed myself for the first time. And the second time. And the third time. And soon enough eating because I'm bored became the standard. I didn't notice it at first but slowly I was blowing up.
My clothes started to fit more snuggly than they used to, my thighs started touching, stretch marks appeared on my hips, what was once a flat tummy now had a considerable softness to it.
It made me horny beyond belief. Days off were spent doing nothing but stuffing myself silly and masturbating. On all fours, a pillow under me and between my legs, and the image of my body fattening up stuck in my head.
One day, I was doing just that. I layer there, on my knees, fat ass sticking out, playing with myself after a big stuffing. I came harder than ever before, the waves of pleasure making me curl into myself. And that's when I felt it. My belly slapping the top of my thighs for the very first time.
After riding out the orgasm I stood up to looked in the mirror and saw it - my, still bloated, belly had an ever so slight line where it was pushing out from my body. I sat back down onto my bed and finally noticed that my belly was actually starting to sit in my lap.
I felt so proud I celebrated with stuffing myself even more. After that day it became really hard to restrain myself around food. I ate anything and everything that came in my general vicinity. I'd eat a meal big enough to feed an entire family while fondling my growing belly and I'd still get a snack afterwards.
I was on cloud nine, my body was plumping up so quickly, I could actually feel the fat cells multiplying after every meal. I couldn't get my hands to stop rubbing my softening belly at every chance I got, I couldn't stop putting on old clothes that used to be oversized only to watch the buttons on them pop off, I could stop GAINING.
One day I was trying to actually cook for once and my back started aching. I felt the sack of lard pulling on my back muscles and my legs vere hurting from standing up for so long. Heaving and plopping my belly onto the counter to rest my back I told myself
"okay, maybe I got a little too fat. I had my fun but now I should really loose some of the weight. I mean, it won't long, after all, I have a lot of self control..."
So I finished cooking the meal, or something that was originally meant as just one meal, and took only about a third, thinking that I'm just gonna finish the rest some other day. I also promised myself that I'm starting working out tomorrow.
Of course, that didn't last very long. After finishing the meal my belly felt completely empty and within half an hour I went back to eat the rest. Needless to say the working out routine I planned got forgotten as well.
So I just kept my old habits up and denied even weighing that much. I mean, the scale must be broken, I'm not ACTUALLY that fat, and again, I have a lot of self control, if I REALLY wanted to, I can just work this extra weight right off. And so I kept gaining. And kept gaining.
And kept gaining.
And kept gaining...
Until my entire body jiggled with the slightest of movement. My enormous belly hanged halfway to my knees, a heavy sack made entirely out of pure fat. Big, shapeless, cellulite ridden thighs always touched, and the friction of them chafing against each other made it harder to walk. My head now always rested on a big double chin that wobbled every time my hand with sausage like fingers bought something up to my mouth.
I was in deep, and I knew I really needed to start to take it seriously. Attempt after attempt was made to loose the excess weight, but it always bought even more lard on my body. I couldn't stop shoving food down my throat, no matter how much I tried. I became unrecognizable to the people who knew me and loved ones started to get concerned about me.
But of course, I was too proud to admit that I got too fat actually couldn't help myself. In my mind, I was still in the "slightly chubby" phase.
And even I DID get too fat, I have a lot of self control, I can always just stop and loose the weight, right?
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an oreo snack
You crack open the bag of Oreos thinking you'll just have a few. You just want a taste. You've already eaten so much today, and you're trying not to overdo it…too much. These snacks need to at least last until tomorrow, and you're running out of them quickly.
You eat the first, trying to take your time, but it tastes so good. Before you're even done chewing the second, you're already greedily reaching for a third. The sensation of eating them is so delicious and fulfilling, you don't want it to end. And for that sensation to keep going, well…you have to keep eating. So you do.
You eat and eat, crumbs falling around you, gobbling almost mindlessly yet still casually aware of each cookie you eat until you've hit the end of the first row. You lick your fingers and take a deep breath in and out, feeling uncomfortably full. This is the way it usually goes. You know how much you're eating in the back of your mind, but the sense to stop simply isn't there. That must be where this swollen gut came from; the one that's hanging down, gently resting on the couch between your legs in front of you. Isn't it?
That belly, so soft and heavy, stuffed full so much of the time. The only way you know when to stop is when you're groaning and uncomfortably full, knowing full well that you can't possibly take anymore. But you know you're not there quite yet, there's still some room. You start on the second row.
As you make your way through the second row of cookies, you start to slow down a bit. Your belly is stuffed, and you let out a moan as you feel all that food stretch you out to feel so big and bloated. It's obvious how stuffed full you are - your shirt has slowly ridden up to expose your increasingly round gut. At this point, that last row of cookies feels like a stretch. It might be too much. But you can't help yourself - what's a few more?
You start on the last row, not knowing where you'll fit the rest of them in that big, full belly, stuffed to the brim. You're panting between bites now, so full that you're barely able to catch a breath. As you miraculously finish the last cookie, you fall back into the couch, the empty package as evidence of what you've done to yourself, unable to think about anything but how stuffed you are.
You put hands on your belly to relieve some of that pressure, starting to feel the relief as you rub and squeeze that aching gut. All of the sudden, you let out a huge burp and feel just a little of that bloated feeling fade. This time, no one was around to see you make such a pig of yourself or hear the embarrassing sound of your burp, but you hope maybe next time, someone will be.
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Happy 4/20! 🍃🔥💨
@lisaloutwo @ssbbwemma @fatterforrey @fat-topanga @atouchofadhd
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there's something about caving into gluttony that's unmatched. the way you're constantly bloated, swollen, overfed. the way your gut hangs and jiggles and ripples as you do the simplest things. how good it feels to shovel mouthful after mouthful down your throat as if you'll die without it. absolutely ruining your body and packing on the pounds cuz you're addicted to the grease, the sugar, the fat, the neverending motion of chewing and swallowing slop. and everyday you give in, the scale climbs higher and higher, jeans get tighter and tighter, shirts struggle to cover all that new soft flab hanging off of you. and yet you still can't stop, wont stop, just keep eating. lose yourself in it.
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two years can make a big difference. I’ve gained about 110lbs since I started 🤤🐷🩷
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hi tumblr- question for you- do I look morbidly obese from this angle? would you help fatten me up more? All this fat just makes me so 💦🐷
I think it’s almost time for a weigh in 🤤🐷🐷🐷🩷
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I am fat.
This is a part of my identity. Just like being trans or autistic is. I'm getting used to this word, to this label, to the reality that I'm partly destined for, partly creating. It feels thrilling, a self-discovery. A puzzle piece falling into place.
I look in the mirror and I'm starting to feel like myself. This is me: the soft chin, the round belly, the rubbing thighs. In the future, I am going to get fatter, and even more like myself.
I love repeating the words:
I am fat.
I'm gaining weight.
I'm getting fatter.
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That Little Bit Fatter
(Second person feedee POV, encouragement, SFW.)
You got that little bit fatter, and now your shirts don't fit.
You can still button them up -- barely. But they're snug on the curve of your fat belly, and they just barely leave enough slack for you to tuck them into your pants under your belly hang. (Your pants are getting tight, too.) Sit down at the right angle and you can feel the buttons strain, but even when they're not, you can feel that snugness, that tightness, like a little whisper in your ear as you go through the workday: you're getting fatter.
You've had a double chin for years. But you got that little bit fatter and now you really look fat, no matter what the angle. Sit down at the right angle and you can feel your face sink into it. It feels comfortable.
You got that little bit fatter and your moobs stuck out that little bit further. Under your arms they've even turned into side rolls that you can grab a handful of and jiggle. Good thing you got that little bit fatter and your belly grew too, just to keep them in perspective.
You've had a belly for years, too. You've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now your belly is a real slab of flab, rolling over your waistline in a proper hang. You can't keep your hands off it, can you? Without even realizing that you're doing it you sometimes find yourself idly hefting it, feeling how soft and thick it's gotten, tracing your fingertips along the warm, soft line where it folds over.
Yes, you've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now you're undeniably, unmistakably fat. You can see it in people's faces sometimes, a subtle difference in the way they react when you reach for another helping of food. They're not seeing someone who's "let themselves go a little"; they're seeing a fat person, a person who loves to eat, who eats more than they're supposed to and doesn't seem to care. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't awkward sometimes, but you like it, too. You always secretly liked being fat, secretly loved to eat, even secretly fantasized about growing bigger. But you got that little bit fatter and crossed the line into properly fat and not just chubby, and now your fatness feels somehow realer, truer. You got that little bit fatter and suddenly your identity felt more secure.
You got that little bit fatter and you started testing your limits. You used to feel embarrassed by how much you could eat in a sitting. Now it feels like a challenge, and you're hooked on the excitement. You got that little bit fatter and you started enjoying going out to eat and ordering that extra appetizer, that extra dessert, even that extra entree. You got that little bit fatter and it was like giving yourself permission to embrace the glutton you've always been.
You got that little bit fatter and you liked it.
But sometimes, standing there hefting your belly hang in the mirror or lying back in your armchair and breathing heavily as you digest another big meal, it feels like it's still not enough. You're not that big. It's not like you're so fat that you can't reach past your belly. It's not like you're so fat that you can't walk.
Maybe tomorrow you'll add another snack or two to what you've already been eating. Maybe when you're in the snack aisle you'll look at the calorie counts and go for the highest one you can find. Just for fun.
Maybe you'll get a little bit fatter.
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Best weight gain experiences, in no particular order
feeling your belly press against your shirt and the hem of your pants after a big meal - more and more as the time passes
bending your leg and feeling the constriction in your pants
pretty much just feeling like your body is inflating at times, pressing against all your clothes, bursting out of them
just going about your day performing tasks and catching yourself on a constant "oof...", "oh god", "huff" etc.
realizing how heavy your breathing is
absent-mindedly putting your hands on your belly like it's a shelf when you sit down
noticing a new unexpected part of your body jiggle as you walk - your cheeks? a new back roll? a love handle?
catching your reflection in a window of a bus / shop and realizing how fat your face actually looks
the constant soft pressure / rub of your double chin as you lower your head; over time you realize you can lower your head less and less
not noticing your softer jawline until you put on a scarf and it squeezes your neck making you realize you do have a double chin now even when you don't lower your head
noticing the creases at the corners of your lips, indicating that your cheeks are getting fuller
the thrill of figuring out how to enlarge your clothes without having to size up just yet, but still knowing that you'll have to size up eventually
putting on a slightly too-small t-shirt and fully realizing everyone will notice your big belly
catching yourself on always choosing the highest caloric options by default the way other people look for the lowest caloric foods - realizing how much you've rewired your brain
the moment you start to take everyday obstacles into account - stairs, narrow chairs, walking a longer distance, etc.
"500 calories? That's merely a snack"
overhearing someone refer to you as big or fat or chubby etc., like it's something that's obvious to everyone, just a part of your identity now
"nah, I'm full enough, I don't need to stuff my face straight before bed" *proceeds to wake up in the middle of the night ravenous and needing to eat* *stuffs face at 3am* *still wakes up at 8am hungry*
basically just waking up hungry no matter how much you ate the previous night
wondering where your natural plateau is now... is it 220? 250? 300? guess we'll find out
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You stuff a pillow under your t-shirt.
You don't really understand why it excites you so much; you are only a child. But the idea of carrying a round belly everywhere you go sends a thrill through your tummy. You want to eat snacks and make it happen, but it feels forbidden. You are not allowed that many snacks, anyway.
***
Just on the cusp of adolescence, you go through a chubby faze. The turmoil that it results with confuses you. It feels so right - the chubby belly, the round cheeks, the tubby figure. It feels like you. But you're twelve, and twelve-year-olds are cruel. The bullying is too much. A year later, you experience a growth spur, and you return to medium-sized again.
***
You try to live out the normative life. Never letting yourself truly enjoy food, never allowing yourself to indulge. You try to suppress all the urges, but it's impossible to suppress them entirely. From time to time, you would hear about someone who gained a significant amount of weight. It sends a shiver down your spine. It's always told as a story of failure, but it never feels like it to you. Sometimes, you'd wander into darker corners of the Internet and read a couple of stories. It frustrates you that nothing gets you off quite as quickly as this.
***
It's hard to say when it happens, exactly, but at some point you reevaluate your life and try to start living on your own terms. No more "pretending to be normal", no more trying to attain an ideal that doesn't make you happy anyway. It's freeing. It encompasses many areas of your life, but you still don't dare to touch your kink, don't dare to think about it too much. But then, something else happens - you're not that guarded anymore, and also, your metabolism is no longer the metabolism of a teenager. You snack a bit more, you eat slightly bigger meals. You gain a couple of pounds. And then a couple more. You don't really even notice it.
***
Your Medium pants don't button. You feel two different feelings at once. In your head is dread: "how could I let myself go? What now??" In your lower belly, there is a thrill: "What if I indulged just a bit more?" You reflect on it a bit, thinking how good letting go was in different areas of your life. You decide to continue, just for a while longer. Just a couple more pounds. It's not going to be that noticeable anyway. You buy pants in size Large, and it's hard to admit it to yourself how thrilling this is.
***
You suddenly feel so much better when you eat more. Not just mentally, but also physically! What a scam the diet culture is!
You grow into your new pants bit by bit.
You buy some heavy cream.
***
It's a year later.
You sit on your sofa, thick legs spread wide. Your belly rests in your lap comfortably, a round ball of fat, now slightly taut as you are full after a large dinner. You are watching your favourite TV show, lazily snacking from a large package of chips. With every bite, your double chin wobbles slightly. You lick your chubby fingers and, grunting a bit, you adjust the waistband on your sweatpants, moving it lower, so that it doesn't squeeze your underbelly. You retired your Large pants a couple of months ago, and now, the XL is getting slightly snug. It's probably time for some shopping again. You wonder when the time comes when you can't find your size in regular stores anymore.
You smile gently, puffing out your round cheeks. You feel like yourself.
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I used to think I was only an FA/feeder, but ever since the pandemic I’ve unintentionally put on about 80 pounds. I’m stuffed at work after eating an entire burrito and order of chips and queso and damn it feels good. I had never thought about gaining on purpose by myself, but if I was with a gluttonous partner, I don’t think I could control myself.
How about I make you grow your belly as big as mine ?
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Whatever you might be doing wherever in the world, it's completely unmatched to eating an entire cake in your apartment and admiring your figure in the mirror
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it’s been a weight gain shake kind of day, they make the perfect snack 🤤🤤🐷 what should a greedy piggy eat next? 😇🐷🤤🩷🩷
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