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Reblog if you’d ask me on a date if you saw me at the gym wearing this 🤭🎀

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🍕

💨

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BELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

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Oops 😉

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please appreciate some possibly new chub~~

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Do you have anything special planned for the day you hit 400? Obviously I’m hoping for an all-day stuffing the likes of which your stomach has never experienced before 😈

my birthday is this weekend, and i think im within a properly stuffed day of 400, so i have a little celebration planned!! gonna have an indulgent day that culminates in a big cake, with the 4 0 0 candles and party hats and everything!! and im gonna see if i can make some side by sides with my older cake videos. also, excuse me while i get overly sentimental, but these vids are from 2019, and it's been an absolute pleasure to share my growth with yall for all these years 🥲🫡 godspeed, and here's to hundreds more lbs to come 🥂

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imagine eating yourself hundreds and hundreds of pounds heavier just because it turns you on..

eating yourself so big you can barely walk, every little movement leaving you completely breathless just because it turns you on..

eating yourself to the point you need help with every little thing just because it turns you on..

it's absolutely pathetic, and i love it so much.

you better be eating for me, fatty <3

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I'm dreaming of tube feeding a hog

Not funnel, tube

Past your mouth, down your throat, you don't have to swallow, you don't get to swallow, it's going directly in your lard tank of a stomach

Where stopping when I say we're done, I don't care if your full, I don't care if it hurts I say when your done

So what if I just forced the same amount of fats into you in one sitting that a normal person eats in a year

Thank me for that

This is good for you, don't listen to your body, don't listen to doctors or family or anyone but me, this is healthy

It's supposed to feel like your dying when I finish feeding you thats good

This is good for you

Your legs are supposed to be giant sacks of lard and retain enough fluid to drown a person, infact they should be even bigger

This is healthy

It's natural to feel every heart beat and have a noticeable struggle to breathe even with an O2 mask

This is good for you

Keep gaining, I'm not letting you stop

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Greedy girl<3

Big news coming soon 🤍

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Text time. Senerio I've been fantasizing about for way too long now. Thought it'd be nice to type out on here.

Going to ~~Or being forced into..~~ a Heart Attack Grill-type place. Except way more heavy into the "We exist only to make you fatter.* philosophy.

And everything on the menu is the same but like. Even *less* health regulations than the real thing. Not a single thing that isn't slathered in grease of butter.

Ordering something called the Heart Throb, or Artery Clogger, or whatever.

A five pound mess of meat and cheese stuffed into two toasted buns with way too much butter, and it all just ends up an oily, butter soaked, cheesy, fatty, dripping, disgusting mess that and too-far-gone fatass would dig their hands into anyway. No matter if they just ate or not. Getting it everywhere, all over themselves, the floor, the table. A feeder or significant other egging them on, praising them despite the complete fucking mess they are.

They might even order another one if they finish fast enough. Maybe an equally unhealthy milkshake in a cup that edges the line between an actual cup and a bucket for pigs to eat slop out of.

And it's not just them in there. The place is full of failures who can barely walk or fit in a booth. Who need multiple chairs under their giant sweaty asses to even sit properly. Huffing and groaning while they eat more and more.

Everything on the menu is as cheap as possible so they're encouraged to get more, to stretch their guts as far as possible. Nothing that gets cooked there isn't at least drenched in butter or sugar. So you either finish when you're done, or when someone decides when you're done for you...

If you break a chair, you get a free meal, pop a button or rip your pants, you get half off your check. If you weigh more than five pounds extra then when you came in, you get another voucher for a free meal.

Stretch goals that only exist to get you to consume more... To stretch that gut to its very limit.

Leaving five pounds heavier and a grease-covered mess. Barely able to waddle out the door without help. And of course practically being forced by the workers into taking something to go.

The. Fucking.. Dream,,,

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please get hopelessly addicted to fast food, eat with both your hands and ask for more in between bites

then beg me to pleasure you while you are eating because your brain is so fried you need excess of all kinds to feel any sort of pleasure💞

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All these lazy Sundays eating fast food have made Barbie get Fat ! 🤭🐷🎀

Reblog if you’d Feed Me all day. 😏

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There is no denying that all that fat is going to your brain, it’s not just softening your body but it’s softening who you are as well. You used to occasionally fight your hunger but now it’s grown to the point you can no longer deny your stomachs endless craving and demand to have more, your brain has fallen victim to your own gluttony it’s no longer the one in control of your body, your gut is.

You’ve become so docile lazing around all day eyes glazed over from the countless bong hits you’ve taken, the only thoughts that occupy your head are what you’re going to eat next, and when you’re going to be fucked next.

Rest assured though darling, there’s no need to think about anything while I’m here just lay back and let me take care of everything for you, in fact don’t you think you’re getting hungry again? I know it’s only be an hour since your last meal but that one was a lot lighter then they usually are, you surely have room for more in that growing gut of yours and we don’t want to make it upset do we.

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I haven't even eaten yet today and look at how bulged my tummy looks. I feel huge and I'm loving every minute of it. Now time to stuff my face until it hurts. NO PAIN NO GAIN.

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Date Night

Tw: Health issues, fat shaming, nonconsensual gaining

What’s the matter babe, something wrong with your food? It never takes you this long to polish off a family meal deal. Usually, I can’t even get to the next drive-thru before you’re tilting your head back to choke down the last of the fries. You know I love seeing those pudgy hands pouring the crumbs and salt and grease down that blubber-covered throat of yours. But we’re almost there and you’ve barely finished the second burger — what’s going on?

Ohh, the cashier at the last place really got to you, huh? Yeah, they don’t usually play along like he did when I try to fuck with them. It’s always funny to see how uncomfortable they get when I talk about how big you’re getting, how hard it is for you to get around when you’re fat enough to take up the entire backseat of a car, how all this fast food is the last thing in the world you need but I keep getting it for you anyway. But not him, though. He was ready to give you a lecture about what all these processed foods — the ones loaded with saturated fats and sugars and sodium — are doing to your body. Called you a fatass right to your face! From the drive thru window! Man, I wish I’d recorded it; your fans would have loved to see that, you getting redder and redder from blushing, shifting your flab around while he went on about diabetes and heart disease and fat, lazy customers.

You’ve got to admit there’s something to what he was saying, though. I mean, you didn’t used to have to take a break just getting into the car. It hasn’t been easy for you for a while now, but to already be out of breath and panting like a dog by the time you’ve barely gotten to the car, sitting on the edge of the backseat with your fat filling up the door frame? It’s obvious you’ve gotten a lot heavier and a lot more out of shape, really damn fast. You had to spend a good five minutes with one huge blubber-packed leg and a good foot and a half of belly and side roll hanging out of the car before you were ready to start scooting those hundreds of pounds into the middle of the seat. With all the rocking and jiggling and wobbling you had to do, I wasn’t sure what was going to give out first: you, or the suspension. I’m not looking forward to trying to get your fat ass out when we get back home, not after you’ve stuffed ten or fifteen thousand calories’ worth of greasy junk into your bloated gut.

It has to be obvious to you how you’re steadily ruining yourself. Wrecking your body. Sabotaging any chance you might have left of living a normal life. If you had even a little self-control, you could probably level off your gains here, come up with some kind of a fitness routine that even a fat cow like you could manage, and start getting back down to just being regular fat instead of reality-tv fat. But you can’t resist it, can you? However unsettled someone like that cashier makes you, however much they might make you stop and think about what you’re really doing to yourself, you’re going to have me drive us through our usual date night cycle of fast food, aren’t you? You’re going to stuff burgers and tacos and fried chicken and ice cream and donuts and chips and candy bars into that blubbery sack of fat in your lap, and wash it all down with sodas and milkshakes and slushies until you look like a tick ready to pop and you’re barely coherent anymore. And then I get to have my real fun.

So you may as well make your peace with all this. Know that you’re not going to be able to make your future anything more than an endless round of trips through the drive-thru until, finally, you’re too porked-up even to get hauled around for that anymore. Until you’re almost unrecognizable as a person under a belly that’s heavier than most people. Until your arms and legs are so heavy with lard and bloated by your indulgence that you can barely lift them without help, let alone use them. Until there’s not a car left anywhere that’s wide enough for you to cram your dump-truck ass into. Until just sitting upright and staying awake is a workout that leaves you out of breath.

That’s when the food will start coming to you. I’ll miss our little outings like this, but having a date night at home will be a different kind of fun. The endless parade of delivery drivers, showing up every half-hour or so with enough from your favorite fast-food stops to feed a small party. I’ll be there to help you through the food coma, keep you focused and eating, even as you can feel the grease starting to flood your arteries and your breathing slow and your eyelids droop. Giving you all the stimulation you need to keep choking down more garbage and make it that much more impossible for you to do anything on your own again. Isn’t that what dates are supposed to be for anyway? Bringing you closer together as a couple? I don’t know about you, but I think it’s romantic.

Because we’re a team, and there’s nothing sexier than knowing I’m feeding you into the fattest version of yourself. Whether you like it or not.