“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

-Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

“Small” Fantasies

- People casually asking if I’ve gained weight, and bringing up recent selfies of my face as examples as to why they’re asking. Them telling me they could tell because my face looks rounder and I’m getting these chubby cheeks and a another chin…

- Being pulled into bed by my love-handles; my partner making a point of jiggling them while looking up at my face with a completely snarky little smirk.

- Someone/multiple people actually just straight-up telling me that I’m getting fat, and how they’re going to make me softer and softer, until I “jiggle and quiver just from breathing, and how everyone will stare at me in public because I’m so massive, spherical, gelatinous, and obscenely spilling out of the largest clothes a person could fathom.”

- Being publicly humiliated without warning, by a feeder who loudly proclaims, right outside my changing-stall in a boutique, that “this is the largest size they carry in this store, it MUST fit you,” and demanding that I come out of the room and show (parade around for) them how horribly the enormous (and purposefully skimpy) blouse they forced me to try on truly fits, with my belly and growing titties pouring out of it; straining the seams.

- Having old photos of me compared to new ones, and the comparisons spread online…

- Someone photoshopping those comparison photos to make me look impossibly fatter, then spreading those online, with degrading captions!

- A feeder cupping my chest fat and saying “wow, I didn’t think you could get these all on your own… need me to buy you a training-bra?”