encourager-feeder
Gaining w8 is to be encouraged
Reblog this if you’re addicted to food / gaining w8 / stuffing your face to the brim / pigging out and need to be encouraged / fed :)
gaysubfeedee
Just want to be encouraged to eat until I pop 🐽
This is the +4 card. Reblog to gain 4 pounds
Or tag someone to add 4lbs to their belly
Reblog if you’re a gainer who welcomes anonymous teasing and encouragement!
God when did I get so soft 😩 I’m spilling out of these boxers.
Excuse me, I just can’t help it 🥵🙊
What’s the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning? I’ll give you a hint it’s not fixing your hair lol. The fact I had to turn the sound off because I was breathing so heavily just reminded me how hot it is to get out of shape
Expressions
There’s a broad range of expressions you’ll get used to seeing on your feedee’s face as they progress along their gaining journey. I know firsthand; I’ve gone through several. I enjoy the variety but, more than anything, I enjoy seeing how they change over time as each gainer makes their peace with the fast-approaching inevitable.
Pleasure always comes first — the flushed exhilaration of a new fatty, finally getting to live their long-cherished and often deeply hidden dream of letting go, eating whatever they want, and getting as fat as they possibly can. The look of pure satisfaction as they grasp a rounded belly packed with food, feeling themself getting fuller and bigger — feeling, after a while, a flabby paunch starting to come in, the belly staying round and prominent even when they haven’t eaten a full meal. Bliss.
It isn’t usually too long after the initial high that another expression becomes more common: desire. That look of animalistic possessiveness whenever something delicious and fattening comes into view — pizza, mac ‘n cheese, burgers, barbecue, pasta, cake, ice cream, you name it. They can’t help themselves; they have to have it. They go for their quarry with a singular focus, their pudgy hands and arms reaching out for whatever it is they want to stuff into their waiting gullet. Over time, desire turns to greed, their double chin and bingo wings jiggling as they add yet another plate of food to their out-of-control bulk.
Then relaxation gets added into the mix. Having indulged themself to the point of having a few hundred extra pounds now, the natural inclination is to take it easy — it’s hard work being this fat, they think. Hands folded across the now enormous belly spilling well into their lap, legs with rolls of fat the size of a beer belly perched on a footstool, side rolls filling and overflowing their easy chair, they sit back with plenty of snacks and plenty to watch on tv. It’s just as well they should be allowed their dozing stupor; the fewer calories they burn, the quicker they can pack more fat onto their frame.
Perhaps not surprisingly, exhaustion tends to follow — the tired look of someone who has to haul the equivalent weight of three people around every single time they move. Who has trouble getting a decent night’s sleep or a deep breath even with their CPAP on hand. Who would like to slow down and take it easy for a while, but feels bad at seeing all the food you’re cooking and snacks you’re making go to waste. It may be hard work being as fat as they are, but it’s even harder work getting fatter as fat as they are.
At about this point, frustration becomes the dominant expression. Anyone would be frustrated, I’m sure, having to negotiate moving around a near half-ton body all day, every day. Trying to sit up, trying to roll over, using every bit of strength to stand up, plodding pathetically from one room to another, trying to set the uncontrollable cascade of fat covering their body down in something resembling gracefulness, and only partially succeeding — this is their reality, every day. They’re confronted repeatedly with all the things they’re too fat and heavy to do anymore, like drive a car, fit in a car, walk out to the car, fit into clothes, fit through doorways; those kinds of things. At the same time, they’re driven by a continual, gnawing hunger — a need for that next meal or plate or snack like they’ve never felt before. They want to put down the fork, try to get back into control again, master that hunger getting them plumper by the day. But they never seem to manage.
Which leads to the next expression: fear, with maybe a little indignation mixed in for good measure. They realize what’s happening to them, how out of control they are and how their last remnants of autonomy over their body are slipping away with each click of the rising scale. They realize that once they can’t walk, can’t move, can’t do anything but lay back and take in more food, they’re into the last act of this dietary misadventure. Never mind that they doomed themself to this a long time ago and confirmed their fate with bite after fattening bite; it was never real to them until the pile of lard their body has become has them pinned to where they last happened to sit or lay down, there to remain until some kind soul helps them struggle to their bloated feet.
Inevitably, panic follows sooner or later. It may be from the claustrophobia of having over a thousand pounds of dense, weighty, expanding fat crushing their frame and organs. It may be from noticing that no matter how much slop gets forced down their gullet, they’re never satisfied, never close to full, will never be able to stop the tremendous hunger they’ve created no matter how fat they get trying. It may be from realizing, now that you can finally drop your mask, how this was the plan all along, getting them fatter than any human has any business being, and getting off on seeing how much further they can go. It never gets old, seeing them wallow around, trying to move as if their body weren’t a living waterbed, flapping their massive flab-encased arms and engorged legs in some pathetic attempt to get up and get away. It doesn’t take long before they grow red-faced and exhausted from the effort, of course; and I can never resist fucking their fat rolls at this, their moment of ultimate dread and horror at the overfed disaster they’ve become.
But the expression that is invariably my favorite is resignation. That distant, frowning, vacant look that peers out from an overinflated face sitting atop a mountain of soft, wobbling flesh. The expression of someone who understands that this is all there is, and all there ever will be again: eating, fucking, growing. A slow drowning amidst the rising tide of lard, the relentless storm surge of pound after pound packing into their floundering body, and the tsunami of the… well, the inevitable conclusion they will soon experience, as have all their predecessors. But for now, they suck down their gainer shake dispassionately, letting their belly flow over their bloated ankles to press harder and harder against their feet, absently rubbing the topmost bank of side rolls at the far extreme of their reach, and heaving their blobby distended chest in and out in an effort to stay somewhat lucid for a few more minutes. Resigned to that fact that, in rather a shorter time than they might wish, their body will be so filled with goo and choked with fat that they’ll be left with no expression at all.
steelerules-deactivated20160824
Outdoor fun
Hey #steelerules where did u get this jock? really like the colors and neon green straps…
OMG 🤩🤩
TUMMY TIME! The hottest team up ever. So glad to see the fat celebrated and shown off by both Asa and Ludwig (and friends). Check them out on the yard.
transformingbear2hogman-deactiv
Reblog Fat Spell
Your fate is sealed. With each reblog you will grow fatter. There is no reversal. Caution to those who are unsure. DO YOU WANT TO BECOME A SUPERCHUB HOG….well then reblog to cast and never go back.
🥺👉🏻👈🏻
Obesity will win.
People spend too much time living in fear and trying to stave it off, but the obesity epidemic will win. There's no stopping it. Sooner or later, you and everyone you know will be plumped up fat, with soft curvy bodies and beautifully big bellies.
Don't be afraid, it'll only stress you out. Just embrace it. It's no so bad- in fact it's good. It's ideal. You'll love getting fat. You'll love eating everything you want, and you'll adore that warm feeling you get when your belly is full. You'll find yourself addicted to that feeling, and the newfound sense of accomplishment you get with every new pound and inch of flab. You'll look forward to comparing your body's growth to your friends', seeing how their body has fattened up compared to yours, because nobody's bodies fatten up in the same way.
And when you start to get turned on, comparing your plumped up form to your friends', embrace that too. Because no matter how hard society and pop culture have tried to brainwash you, there's nothing more beautiful or erotic than a beautifully plumped, obese body. Embrace it, worship it, fuck it. Eat more, fuck more, and live the natural life that we all want, deep down.
No matter how hard we try to fight it, deep down everyone wants to eat and everyone wants to fuck. So they should give up on fighting it and give in to gluttony and lust. Grow fatter and fatter, and fuck your friends. You know you want to.
The obesity epidemic is going to win, and it's going to win because you want it to. No matter what you say.
plumpthatbelly-deactivated20230
Piggy 🐷 boy just keeps getting softer 🥵👌🤩😍
Post 2 of 4
Part 4 of 4
queenofthehammed-deactivated202
I'm very excited by intox lately. I want to get My Hogs drunk and stoned and keep them that way for a period of time. Let them live in a haze and become more and more mindless. No willpower, no resisting My need to fatten them. It just so hot to think of my pig getting dumber and more inebriated on purpose and so much easier to grow and manipulate.
