thatonefatwriter

It'd be gone in half an hour, tops ☺️

appreciation post for fat men

💜 much love to fat men of colour 💜

💜 much love to fat trans men 💜

💜 much love to fat gay men 💜

💜 much love to fat men 💜

acuteangle08

To celebrate my return to Tumblr i decided to start my very own weight gain/calorie drive !!

Essentially how this will work is that every like, reblog, and reply will add calories that i will need to eat !!

Like = 50 cal

Reblog = 100 cal

Reply = 75 cal

lets see how much you guys can fatten me up <3

cherryblossomsandapplepi

Might as well spread the calories around

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34645651/chapters/102623667

New chap! Got centaurs and Fae now!!!

Sedentary

You didn’t set out to eat yourself to immobility. And even now, you’re not sure you’re technically immobile. But mobility is a relative thing, and compared to the average fatty, you’d probably qualify. Let’s just say you never tried very hard to preserve what mobility you started with.

Which wasn’t much, if we’re honest. Even when you were still able to do ordinary activities like walking, shopping, hiking, or fitting into a car, you still avoided going outside as much as possible. I used to watch you laboring under your oversized belly, trying to maintain a normal walk even as its pendulous wobble threw off your balance, and the bulk of your thick thighs rubbing together turned your gait into a graceless, plodding step.

If you had your choice, though, the couch was about as far as you wanted to venture on any given day; and even then, it would have been rare for you to do so unless you could find something entertaining on the tv and make sure a couple of snacks and a large soda were within reach. Once you were planted there, you didn’t want to move; and anything you might want was referred to me to bring, since you didn’t want to leave your comfy position for it. I, of course, was more than happy to oblige, bringing you all manner of fatty and sugary snacks to keep you satisfied while you relaxed, and letting you shovel plate after plate of food into your stationary gut. That kind of treatment left your dimple in the couch getting wider and deeper on a pretty consistent basis, a testament to your growing waistline and burgeoning behind.

The changes in your movement and stamina were painfully obvious on those rare occasions when you had to leave the house for something — some event, or friendly get-together that you couldn’t get out of. You’d be huffing and puffing almost as soon as you’d made it out the front door, your thickened thighs and ass and belly fighting to escape from whatever undersized outfit you’d crammed them into. You’d have to labor down the walk — weight sloshing from one side to the other, flabby arms swinging to try and stay balanced, cellulite jiggling with each heavy, barely-controlled step. By the time you got to the car, you’d have to sit and take a minute to catch your breath before you could even attempt to squeeze yourself all the way inside. That got to be a workout on its own, too.

To your credit, you tried to keep yourself moving. Those attempts never went as far as cutting back on all the junk you were guzzling down, of course. But you’d make a gesture toward fitness by attempting a walk up and down the street every so often, your workout clothes looking more cartoonishly stretched over your bloated, expanding form with each passage of the couple of weeks between outings. I always encouraged you to go for one of your pitifully short walks because I loved to watch them — loved to see the skinnier you inside that blubbery body having to try and push hundreds of pounds of fat out of the way just to move around. Arms and legs wrapped in layers of fat so heavy that just lifting them to move required considerable effort. Jiggling side rolls big enough to get in the way of your swinging arms, leaving you making an uncanny rotating movement to try and keep your balance. A belly and fatpad so full and low and heavy that your thighs had to push them up and out of the way before you could take a step forward. And two massive globes atop the backs of your thighs, alternately rising and falling with each step, each weighty enough to throw you off your stride, together making it impossible for your piggish body to keep up any kind of consistent pace. It’s no wonder you ended every walk completely exhausted and ready to rest up and gorge yourself for days afterward.

It stood to reason that this ridiculous pretense couldn’t last — the idea that you could keep packing on weight indefinitely as long as you could prove you were still able to “exercise” with a greater or lesser amount of success. Once you weren’t able to make it past the neighbor’s house without your face turning scarlet — without being so lightheaded you couldn’t see anything but stars, and so winded you could barely breathe — you had to acknowledge that you’d eaten yourself too fat to go out any longer. You wouldn’t be waddling any further than the end of the driveway from then on.

But even that realization wasn’t enough to get you to put the fork down once in a while. If anything, I think it took away what little pressure there was to avoid completely losing yourself in gluttony. With nowhere to go, there was no reason to try to still be able to go anywhere. And so, even your trips to the couch became irregular and increasingly infrequent. You could just as easily surround yourself with food and keep yourself entertained in bed, and less and less of your time was spent out of it.

The results were, needless to say, pretty striking. What little shape you’d managed to maintain over the years disappeared almost immediately, your overinflated but still recognizable arms and legs spreading and deforming into shapeless puddles of lard pooling around your body. It rapidly became a chore just to move them, even as your belly grew past your knees and well out of reach, and began to bury your body under a ballooning mound of flab. When you did muster the effort to swing your lard-covered legs around and haul that enormous belly into a sitting position, you still had your thick and growing ass spreading out behind you, anchoring you to the mattress. It was no wonder you resisted having to carry all that enormous weight, draped all over your body and jiggling with every lumbering step, anywhere else.

That was when the specter of immobility started to haunt you. You were gaining weight, sure; pounds of ponderous blubber every day. But the desire for ease left your muscles weakening at the same time. It just kept getting harder and harder to heave yourself up, and each time you found more of yourself to have to heave. Eventually, imperceptibly, you just stopped trying. There was never a day when you Became Immobile, no triumphant arrival at that adipose apex. The intervals between getting up just became gradually longer as your fat continued to swell and grow heavier. You adapted more and more of your tasks to a laying position in bed, satisfying yourself with the effort to roll over or reposition your impractical girth. At this point, I can’t remember the last time you got up, or even tried. Months? Months, at least.

And now, even the little movement you’ve come to rely on is getting harder to do. Your flabby arms, fat rolls threatening to overwhelm your wrists, quiver under the strain each time you have to reach for the tv remote or another calorie-saturated snack. Your legs burn like a normal person’s after an hour of CrossFit just from trying to throw their lumpy, inhuman bulk across the bed to roll over on your stomach. It takes active effort for you to breathe even when you’re sitting still, your lungs needing the extra muscle to push up against the crushing of all the lard collected in your tits and belly. It’s not surprising, then, that any attempts at movement leave you flushed, sweaty, winded, and looking like you might have a heart attack any second now. Far better for me to get you moving by grabbing a roll and pushing in the general direction you want to go.

So does that make you immobile? Sort of. But who knows — maybe if you had to, or really wanted to, you could still jiggle your way to the edge of the bed, heave yourself upright, and roll the corpulent pile of lard your body has become onto your two legs without them breaking under the strain. Maybe you could even manage a few steps without passing out. Still mobility of a kind, right?

But you’d never try it. You’re far too comfortable sitting on your beanbag-chair ass and seeing how much food you can put away before your next official meal. And if that’s the case — if you’re not going anywhere anyway, and are never going to change anything to stop your slide further into hyper-morbid obesity… does it really make a difference whether you’re technically mobile?

Just keep eating like you’re still trying to get there.

mykinksideblog

anonymously send me an emoji! feeder/feedee/FA edition

😍 I think you’re cute. 💋 I want to kiss you. 💕 I want to cuddle with you. ✋ I want to spank you! 🍩 I want to feed you. 🍰 I want you to feed me. 👅 I want to eat food off your body. 😈 I want to fuck you! 🐷 Let’s have some piggy play! ☎️ Let’s talk dirty. 🐽 I want you to tease/humiliate me. ⬆️ I want to dominate you. ⬇️ I want you to dominate me. 🔴 I want to stuff you silly. 🔵 I want to blow you up like a blueberry! 👕 I want to grow you out of your clothes. 👐 Belly rubs!

Feel free to reblog and add more!

mykinksideblog

An anon has submitted some wonderful additions! Credit and kudos to you, anon! Here they are – have fun, everyone!:

☉ I crave your belly. ɷ I crave your ass. 💣 I wanna feed you till you burst. ⏰ I wanna spend the night with you. ◯ You need a fatter gut. Ѡ You need a fatter booty. 👂 I wanna hear your naughty secrets/fattening fantasies. 🐳 I wanna make you immobile. 👉 *pokes/pinches your gut* 👈 *pokes/pinches your ass* 🍭 I wanna spoil/pamper you. 🍫 I want you to spoil/pamper me. 🍔 I wanna turn you into a slob. 🍕 I want you to turn me into a slob. 🔃 I want to mutually gain with you. ∞ NO Fattening Limits!

lexaveom45

😍❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😍🇫🇷

thatonefatwriter

A beautiful example of Tumblr "porn" flags being dumb.

At least we get to see this beautiful person!

Let's talk about how to interact with fat people on the internet:

This is not the way to start off a comment for a few reasons, but primarily just for one - the rest of tumblr can look at your profile.

If you're not a member of this community, I can understand this response. Kinda fatphobic, especially when my decision has zero effect on this user. But ok, whatever. Easy block.

But when you ARE a member of this community, reblogging other fat people, talking about making them your pigs and feeding them to immobility, thirsting over men my size or bigger - well, it just seems hypocritical at best.

Want to talk about making your fetish your existence? Look in the mirror, buddy. You get off on content that reduces people to literally existing as a fetish - I saw your comments on posts and the words you used. So why the fuck are you bitching at me?

Because either you are being genuine with me, which means you're one of those fetishists that only see fat bodies as masturbation material then can't even give fat people basic fucking human decency

OR

you're being genuine on your blog, which means you have a bone to pick with me (or you're just sexist since you 99% repost men, and maybe you think women shouldn't be fat. Yes, there's a few out there like that, maybe you guys can form a club). Either way, not my problem.

Next, it's like you didn't even read my post, which I spent a lot of time on trying to give a thoughtful and genuine reply. Sad face. I guess you can't hold your attention to read past 5 seconds, but further down in that post I specifically say that I address medical issues as they pop up in an appropriate response for me. If I ever really got scared, yeah, I would lose weight if that was the best course for me. I've also talked about that before.

But the question was worrying on a day-to-day basis and as of right now, in this moment - I'm not worried. I don't carve out 10 minutes a day to worry. So everything I said is still true. Do I know my current size might have health effects in the future? No shit sherlock. But I also know that so does everything else - smoking, drinking, not using a ventilator around carcinogenic art material, eating red 40 dye, driving on roads, not wearing a seatbelt, skydiving, etc.. But what I know for absolute certainty , my choices have zero effect on you.

Go shove your head in your ass, and maybe you'll find your manners while you're there.

I was also fat before my involvement in this community so ... kinda awkward for you.

(Also, don't search for this assholes' comment, and do not message them if you do. It's not worth wasting your time on them and I dont condone witch hunting. Also no kink shaming to other people who like immobility, ya'll are just fine)

verytinybun

Maded food, took a short shower, passed out. The life of a chef fatty

Damn, this looks good! Color me impressed with both the yummy culinary art, AND the belly.

thatonefatwriter

Aw shucks ☺️

Turns out I'm 370+ now too 😊

softwgsuggestions

Feeders, treat your feedees with respect.

~If they feel too full, don’t push them to continue if they don’t want to.

~Be sure to treat your feedee well after you feed them— belly rubs are always a good option.

~Don’t force your feedees into uncomfortable situations in public— not every feedee likes to indulge in their kink outside of private spaces and that’s okay.

~Let your feedee set boundaries, and respect their wishes. Don’t break those boundaries.

~Respect your feedee as a person. If they decide they want to lose weight, let them. It’s their body, and they have the final say over it.

Respect your feedee and treat them well. Healthy relationships are especially important in a feeder/feedee dynamic.

cherryblossomsandapplepi

I know my blog shows some things that seem counterintuitive to this post, but that is FANTASY this is how you should treat your partner. Anytime you enter kinkspace with your partner once you are done you NEED to provide after care for them it’s not optional.

thatonefatwriter

...

I did this, but the jacket was 30, and I cut off the sleeves so it still fit

Doms need space and alone time, too.

They can't be on all the time for us subs. It takes a lot of brain power to be the strong one, the one with all the answers. Our Doms want to be their best self for us so they can help us be our best selves through love, patience, and a firm guiding hand.

Use that time for yourself, too! Make some art to show them when they're ready to be social again. Or do your own self care routine and tell them all about it later. My Dom loves hearing what I've done during the day when he's not able to chat. Alone time can be bonding time, too, if you do it right. 💜

people who have no distinct label or word for who they are or how they identify and simply say “i’m queer” are quite possibly the most powerful people on the planet, and there’s no reason for us to force them to fit into rigid boxes and labels. this is what the community is here for. cheers for the queers

Gentle but dominant feeders.. They have their partner tied up and while they feed them and rub their growing stomachs they make sure they’re alright–

“Is that okay?”

“Do I need to loosen your pants?”

“You want a pillow?”

After they stuff their partner to where there’s a good bulge, they gently rub the tummy and hum happily while their partner is blushing from embarrassment and from getting turned on by it all. They’re also comfortable from their partner’s rubbing and pampering so they slowly fall asleep–

I’m rambling, whoops–

verytinybun

Public service announcement! If you aren’t going to buy a meal for a gainer, don’t complain if they’re not growing the way you want them to. Let's all be kind to one another. Support your favorite gainers in positive ways. No more putting down others for what they can't control. Gaining can be expensive and everyone’s bodies are different!

maximumfed

I get so much harassment (most if not all on grommr) about not bending over backwards to satisfy people when they aren’t willing to contribute anything. Not even food but time and driving. I’m literally doing all the work. It sucks. So thank you bun

verytinybun

This makes me so sad! Eff those people for real. Keep doin you boo! ����