There's no stopping now.

    I'm far too fucking big.

    I can't even go a few steps without being winded.

    I'm so heavy... I just don't want to move anymore.

    I need to be stuffed.

    To be pushed.

    Filled.

    I need someone to help me reach my goal.

    So I have an excuse. Someone to blame other than myself for my mindless gluttony.

    Someone to fill me passed the turning point. I'm tired of moving.

    My body is so heavy with fat already it's exhausting.

    I just need to gain another hundred pounds or so to be done with it. Done with getting out of bed. To be purely immobile.

    It's my dream to suck down food 24/7

    To be a large, wobbling, pile of flesh.

    Greedy and fat.

    It's tiring walking even to the fridge to fill myself, which takes a lot now.

    I need somebody to feed me. To force food into me so I'm bound to the bed by my own weight.

    Held down my hundreds of pounds of sloshing fat. Only waiting to grow bigger.

    I want to be propped up so I don't suffocate with so much weight on my chest.

    Heart pounding with every slight adjustment.

    Hell, I don't want to even be able to move my arms and legs. Just a huge blimp of a human, barely alive. Being stuffed to death without mercy.

    So make sure you are dedicated to ruining me, it's for my own good. I'm too goddamn fat to turn back now.

    I need this so badly. Rub me and use me as your big soft pillowy fuck toy.

    Feed me and fuck me at the same time.

    As long as I don't have to move anymore.

    I just need to be filled for you.

    .

    .

    .

    Love what I do? Feel free to drop a tip in my kofi linked at the top of my bio πŸ’–

    What to expect.

    You're going to stop eating when your body is tight like a drum from how much fat I've managed to shove down your throat, and I find it charming to watch you struggle to survive for a little while In your own, personal bloated hell and prison. An immobile grease-filled balloon, waiting for me to pop it.

    Or, you'll stop when you're dead.

    There really isn't an in-between.

    As your pig swells, take some time to lay them out to inspect the results of their effort.

    Go over each new fold, each bulging slab of fat from the side, and angry over stretched bit of skin.

    And remind them that they're doing exactly what you want them to do, that their choice to be a honeypot of lard is what you love about them, and that there will be so much more fat inside them in the future.

    Enforce and encourage their gluttonous behavior.

    fatloove-deactivated20200819

    πŸ₯΅πŸ₯΅πŸ₯΅πŸ₯΅

    surfjer

    Can you find a way to actually fuck her

    Pussy?

    Butt?

    Or just wrap her rolls around your cock?

    Be happy with a BJ or hand job 😍

    fatlifeshortlife

    What other function does a larder like this serve other than to glut themselves even further? A life spent waiting to have something shoved down that bloated face, just to have a purpose. What’s not to love?

    fatlifeshortlife

    Name.

    What use is there in knowing your name or even giving you a new one?

    You've resigned yourself to being a worthless pile of bloated grease-filled flesh. You'll never use your body to do anything meaningful again. You'll never have any semblance of a normal person's life again, so why treat you like one? If you do the only thing you're expected of doing, eating, you won't even be in my life long enough to grow attached to. You'll eat and eat and swell with more and more precious fat until you're dead. Then I'll roll your bloated corpse out to start the next one. You're a temporary larder, something to be replaced for my pleasure. Why would I bother naming something so useless and temporary, when I only need you for your fat?