#Fatness in fiction

[thecurioustale]

Let's GLORIFY OBESITY: Why Fat Liberation Is Way More Important and Timely Than You Think

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I'm quite certain that one of my most controversial convictions is that fat people are awesome. Not just valid and worthy of dignity and rights and access to society—that's a given and not open for discussion—but actively incredible and awesome.

Now, of course, this isn't unconditionally true: There are always bad eggs in any basket. Don't take away from this essay the idea that I am saying that fatness gives someone an excuse to be horrible.

But what I do mean is that fatness does not inherently detract from a person's intelligence, personality, beauty, vibrancy, ambition, etc. Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, I also mean that:

Recognizing the integrity and awesomeness of fatness, fat people, and fat bodies isn't something you have to fake.

You can appreciate fat bodies for their own sake. You can dig the softness, the heft, the squish, the jiggle, the warmth, the "fluffiness." You can admire the aesthetics of fat bodies in motion and at rest. You can perceive the world differently through the firsthand or secondhand experience of fatness, much like how learning a second language or having a disability enables you to see things in our society that you were blind to before. You can draw from the wellspring of power and jubilance that is the lifestyle of a body that does not pathologically reject and ration food—the sharing of meals, the ecstasy of eating, the exultation in fullness. You can even let yourself see fatness as a badge of character, for no fat person goes through life on Easy Mode when they are a member of a persecuted class, so if someone is fat it means they're like a war veteran: They've seen some shit, and probably dealt with no shortage of dark pathways in their own minds.( Such is the power of internalizing a societal bigotry.)

There are so many ways to dig fatness. And doing any of these things—admiring fatness in any way—is an important polarization against injustice.

I'm into fat people, myself. It's an orientation in my sexual identity. I like being fat. I like fat partners. I like seeing fat people in daily life. Fat people are hot! However, I say that fat people are awesome, and I live that philosophy in my life, not only because fatness is a part of my own sexual orientation, which was how I first got introduced to the wider world of fat admiration and fat liberation, but because doing so is a preemptive attack against the bigotry and dehumanization that is marshalled against fatness. If you're fat or know someone who is, then you know the horrible things that so many people say about fat people and do to fat people—including about and to themselves if they happen to be fat personally. Some of the worst anti-fat bigots are fat people and ex-fat people! 😢

Anti-Fat Bigotry Transcends Partisan Alignments

I often judge a person's character by their attitude toward fatness, because anti-fat bigotry is not in the national discourse and is not politically aligned. While fat liberation and fat admiration do have their intellectual home on the political left, and the fat community composition is significantly more liberal than conservative, it's still a very niche community, and doesn't attract allies and supporters from the broader mainstream left the way that social justice movements against sexism and racism and classism do. In fact, anti-fat bigotry is one of the most powerful bigotries in the world where mainstream progressivism still hasn't yet identified the bigotry as bigotry, and therefore doesn't recognize it as an injustice. We still have tons of left-wingers sounding like straight-up fascists when they talk about how fat people are diseased and need to be legally penalized and societally erased. Hence the usefulness of a person's attitude toward fatness as a judge of character.

By the way, this exercise of judging character isn't just useful in advancing fat liberation or in knowing who your allies and enemies are on a personal level. When you find a progressive like this, who hates fat people, you know that they are an unreliable ally and don't actually understand the reasons that left-wing issues are valid and important. You know this is someone to learn from and be wary of as an example of those who are at high risk of betraying the movement down the road and doing great harm to liberal causes from within.

Fat is not a traditional partisan issue. Across the political spectrum and beyond it, there is a widespread failure to empathize with fat people regardless of how one identifies politically. We expect proud, gleeful hatred toward innocent groups of people from fascists, but it's very disappointing when it comes from liberals—and it makes their language about inclusiveness, humanization, and peaceful coexistence sound hollow and sanctimonious when these same mouths spout hateful lies and slander and violent rhetoric against fat people.

By the same token, you sometimes see fat acceptance coming from people on the right—perhaps an indicator that one is ripe for deradicalization and deconversion out of the right-wing worldview.

The Bigotry Itself

In my experience, almost everyone—including among fat liberation activists, let alone the general population—suffers from a great deal of internalized fatphobia and holds prejudiced views against fat people. Most people still regard fatness as both inherently bad and a voluntary choice, and from that ethical boondoggle of a combination most people proceed to grade fat people as reprobates who should be punished for their ethical crimes by being cut off from society: no disability accommodations or healthcare except whatever a fat person can pay out of pocket; no right or even a reasonable expectation of gainful employment, romance and love, and meritorious social standing. Fat people are written off as unworthy in every respect, and are often disparaged as ugly, stupid, smelly, selfish, wasteful, greedy, and so and so forth.

Thereby does the bigotry reveal itself: The state of being fat doesn't inherently tell another person any of those things. All of these judgments are pre-judgements, or rather prejudices, and are all done without actually meeting the fat folk in question, saying hello to them, getting to know them a little bit, and learning the first damn thing about their actual lives.

And so the anti-fat bigot, or anyone who is under the spell of fatphobia, misapplies to fat people the same ethical condemnation as we would rightly impose upon fascists and murderers and traffickers. Most of the time, the rhetoric about fat people is that they are subhuman, and it carries the implicit or sometimes even explicit desire for fat people to die. That's another dead giveaway that we're not dealing with a rational hatred: Fat people as a group haven't done anything remotely deserving of the death penalty.

Most anti-fat bigots don't see their view of fat people as problematic. Unsurprising: Most bigots never see their bigotry for what it is. And when we fail to empathize with others, we seldom recognize that we are failing. We don't recognize that there's even something there to be failed!

And I hate to break this to you, Gentle Reader, so gird yourself and turn off your auto-defensiveness reaction. But if you are seeing this, you are almost certainly a part of the problem. Because virtually everyone who isn't an ardent fat liberation activist—and even many of those who are—is a part of the problem. You have learning and self-realization and empathizing and personal growth ahead of you.

A (Brief) Rebuttal of the 4 Main Arguments Against Fatness

There is nothing wrong with being fat.

No, stop: I can see you disagreeing already. Just stop. There is nothing wrong with being fat.

I know what you want to say: It's bad for a person's health. It's a drain on the economy. It's destructive to the environment. It's a sign of poor character.

These are the four classical arguments against fatness. In one form or another, almost every anti-fat slur and condemnation comes from at least one of those four sources.

I'm not here today to do battle with these arguments. Ultimately, the stance I am laying out today is that even if all four arguments were completely true it still wouldn't matter: Anti-fat bigotry would still be wrong. It's a red herring to spend time and energy debunking these arguments. The haters are never moved by reason or evidence, and the rest of us don't need to waste time on the sideshow of invalidating the illogic of their hate.

Yet there is something in the human spirit which has a knack for recognizing elephants in the room, and I think if I didn't address these arguments at all it would be interpreted by many people as a sign that the anti-fat bigots actually have the truth on their side. So, here is my very quick crack at it:

All four of the arguments against fatness possess elements of truth, but are imprecise to the point of being functionally false. And while a whole book's worth of rebuttals could be written on each of these four arguments, I'll just deliver the bottom lines:

Health

"Health" is complicated, and the intersection of fatness and health is much more ambiguous in the medical literature than we popularly believe it to be. Many fatphobic and fat-bigoted professionals within the academic community and healthcare sector obscure this fact further by abusing their authority to conduct unsound or unethical research or misrepresent valid research on the basis of their warped worldview.

If you delve into the research literature—and I have looked at hundreds of studies in my lifetime—you see a few consistent themes emerge, and for convenience I will contextualize these as I go:

Most research suffers from poor variable control and/or poor survey setup or experiment design, and therefore can't tell you what it is really saying. In other words, it isn't necessarily saying anything. (This is a problem across science, not just on this issue.) And when this happens, you'd be amazed at how much a ubiquitous societal prejudice can skew the data. You might think "Individual studies may be bad but they can't ALL be bad, right?" And you'd be forgiven for thinking that, but in fact, when prejudice is concerned, they absolutely can be systematically bad (if not universally bad down to the very last study).

Anti-fat bigotry in the medical and scientific establishment absolutely does corrupt a lot of research. For instance, there were a number of studies that came out during the pandemic pointing out that overweight and obese people made up most COVID hospital patients in the US—roughly 78%. That's such a bad number that they listed obesity as one of the major risk factors for COVID complications. Except for one little thing: The incidence of overweightness and obesity in the US is about 73%. If fatness had no bearing on COVID complications whatsoever, we should expect 73% of hospitalizations to be among overweight and obese people. So 78% isn't far off. And when you factor in that hospitalizations overwhelmingly skewed older, and that older adults on average are heavier than younger adults, the relationship is actually inverse! Being overweight or obese meant you were slightly LESS statistically likely to be hospitalized! But no one reported on that, and no one in the medical establishment seemed to notice it. Instead we got the narrative that COVID will kill yer fat ass dead.

When you ignore the media coverage, and the studies' own titles and abstracts, and look at the data themselves, the data do not generally support the claim that "Being fat harms your health." The claim that they actually support is "Being fat is generally associated with health problems at a higher rate than not being fat is." This isn't semantics; this is a critical distinction. It's like the difference between claiming that "Being black makes you a criminal" versus "Being black is generally associated with higher rates of criminality." The latter phrasing—which is what the research literature can actually support—opens up a whole world of epiphanies when it comes to wrapping our minds around the fact that the societal prejudice against fatness has completely distorted how we see and interpret fatness in our society. This is a very deep topic, but the bottom line is that we are oversimplifying both the concept of fatness and the concept of health, as well as severely underestimating the sociological dimension present. The true interaction between fatness and health is very complex in ways that substantively bear on how we should conceive of the issue.

One notable exception to the above is that the research literature does seem to suggest pretty persuasively that fatness itself—adipose tissue in the body—produces hormonal outputs that exacerbate inflammation in our bloodstreams. And this exception is a great example of the rule I was just laying out: Here we have a case where fatness, itself, directly harms people's health. Except it doesn't! It's not the fat. It's the inflammation in the blood stream caused via the hormonal products that fat cells produce. You see what I mean? Anti-fat bigotry defines "fatness" qualitatively as an essentialist, fundamental aspect of a fat person's identity. But it's not. Fatness is just the top-line label we give to a much more complex system of biochemistry and biomechanical phenomena. And the reason this is important is that, given that weight-loss diets are so ineffective and life is better anyway if you're able to eat well, it's a lot easier to imagine "Let's do something about those hormones or about the inflammation directly" than it is to imagine "Let's 'solve' fatness itself." We already know this works: Controlling for high blood pressure and high cholesterol, for instance—which are associated with fatness—drastically reduce the health problems that are also associated with fatness, all without actually changing the fact that the person is still fat. Advances in medicine and equitable healthcare can go a very long way toward treating the health problems associated with fatness without actually forcing fat people get thin and stay thin.

The actual health penalties that are associated with (if not actually caused by) fatness are not nearly as significant as commonly believed. The data show that if you're 20 or 50 or even 100 pounds "overweight" by normative standards, you're still likely to live more or less a full natural lifespan and have more or less the same use of your body that you would have otherwise. The losses to both lifespan and "health" more broadly are marginal. Age, not fatness, is the great predictor of health problems. And that's not surprising: Our bodies literally fall apart as we get old. That's what they've evolved to do. Also, while there is an argument to be made that losing even one year of life, or one year's worth of mobility, is no small thing, not only is some of this recoverable through other health management measures (such as physical activity and good nutritional intake and the reduction of life stressors), but it's also not what anti-fat bigots are claiming. They're not saying "Oh, you're gonna die at 71 instead 72." They're saying, of perfectly healthy 30-year-olds, "Yep, that person's got 5 years left max." Even the very fattest people, the ones who get dragged through the mud the worst of all by the haters, don't fit the stupid delusional worldview of the haters. Extremely fat people, 500, 600, 700 pounds, are still a lot healthier and live a lot longer than we generally believe—especially if any health conditions they do have are well-managed and they have a good social support system and access to good healthcare. Same as for anyone! And, for the record, the percentage of people who actually weigh that much is vanishingly small. Most "obese" people are in the high 100s and low-to-mid 200s.

Fatness is also associated with numerous positive health effects. By the same logic, we can't read too much into this without getting deep in the weeds, but don't think it's a strictly one-way street. Fatness exists in the first place as an evolutionary adaptation, and evolution is famous for piggybacking multiple benefits onto a given physical trait. Fatness does more than just feed us in lean times and keep us warm in the cold and cushion us from rocks. To some extent it potentially has protective influences on our joints and organs, on our bones, and even on our mental acuity and mood. Haters love to point out that being fat increases your risk for other types of cancer (or, we should say, "is associated with an increased risk"), but there are other types of cancers where the trend is reversed!

I personally do think that it's likely that having a moderate amount of excess fatness in some people, and having a massive amount of excess fatness in most people, does cumulatively "use up" the body faster. Not much faster, not unless you're really, really big or have underlying health issues that would have given you problems even if you'd been thin. But a little bit faster. And to that I say: So what? Like, really: Whose business is it but yours? We mustn't fall into the puritanical trap of valuing the state of being alive over the quality of life and our freedom to be true to ourselves.

The bottom line: All of the above is a red herring because one's health status has no bearing on their worth as individuals or on their right to expect equal treatment in society.

Economics

The basis of this argument is that being fat costs the economy a lot of money. If you look at sensationalist studies, that number is positively goofy, usually in the hundreds of billions or sometimes even trillions of dollars annually in the US alone. This is despite the average American adult weighing only 25 or so pounds above the top of their "optimal BMI" (ugh) range, and the total of all healthcare spending in the US being estimated around $4.3 trillion. Doesn't add up, does it?

The economic costs of fatness, to the extent they actually exist—and this is almost certainly far lower of a number than the ludicrous ones that are commonly cited—are often incurred not in the way that bigots think. What bigots think is that fat people are getting sick all the time and therein missing work and needing more healthcare. I'm sure this does happen, almost certainly not nearly to the extent the haters believe. For one thing, fat people get sick for reasons that have nothing to do with being fat, and once they enter the healthcare pipeline they are exposed to higher costs at every turn.

Systemic injustice is expensive in all the ways that are so well-documented with other persecuted groups, in terms of the mental anguish of community and institutional discrimination; the economic exclusion of discrimination in hiring and the workplace; and the mistreatment of fat people by healthcare professionals and stigmatization of fat people by society, such that fat people often put off their healthcare needs until those needs are more severe and thus more expensive, only to then be screwed with by their healthcare providers leading to further costs and delays in their proper treatment (if you're fat you've probably experienced what it's like to come in for a bad flu and be told that what you really need is to lose a few pounds).

Fat people have a harder time attracting clientele, venture capital, performance bonuses, and yadda yadda we've heard this before for queer people, female folk, people of color, and so on. And fat people are marginalized more often and more readily, again with results very familiar to us from other marginalized groups.

The economic argument also has a headwind to fight in the macroeconomic perspective. To the extent fat people do consume more, they are drivers of the economy, not drains on it. If they're going out to eat more, that's a lot of jobs created.

One of my favorite examples of anti-fat bigotry in the economic context is the tale of airplane seats. We've all heard this story: Some hater comes along and is like "I had to sit next to a FAT person and they were flowing all over me and took up half my seat! Fat people should have to pay for two seats!"

First of all, that's already the policy of most airlines: If there isn't an empty seat immediately available, fat people will usually be rebooked on another flight or asked to purchase a second ticket.

But second of all: Do you know what I say to people who tell that story: "You should thank fat people, because they are subsidizing the cost of your plane ticket."

It's true. Airliners shrink seats to ghastly dimensions, as small as they can realistically get away with, in order to maximize the number of passengers they can carry per flight. This allows for tickets to be sold at a lower price. But by literally squeezing some people out, and forcing those people to have to buy two seats, what the airlines are doing is setting airfares artificially low at the expense of fat passengers.

You can't morally censure your customer base; that's not capitalistic. Your customers are your customers, and if they're fat then they're fat. By designing seats too small for a great many of them, you're making fat people pay for a percentage of other people's tickets every time they are forced to buy a second ticket for themselves.

Of the four arguments, I think the economic one is probably the stupidest of the lot, because no matter how you look at it, it just doesn't add up. Any economic drain that does exist is basically just a reflection of anti-fat bigotry against people at a societal scale.

Hater: "Look at how expensive fat people are for society!"

Me: "Look at how expensive society makes it to be fat!"

The bottom line: Fat people work. The whole schtick about them being slovenly and lazy is a slanderous lie. Fat people go to work, put in their hours, and come home. Even many fat people who are too fat to do most jobs still usually find jobs to do, at rates comparable to that of the general population. We work, we pay in, and we demand our due.

Environment

"How can you eat that cheeseburger when there's a climate crisis on?! Didn't you know that cows are the leading cause of global warming!?!?!?!"

Ah, the environmental argument...perhaps the most disingenuous of the four arguments.

As an advocate for affordable access to meat that is raised with at least a modicum of humaneness, I often come across the anti-fat argument in the context of meat's impact on the environment. That's a topic for another day, though I will say that meat is not as bad for the environment as you probably think, because that point is relevant here.

The core of the environmental argument against fatness is that fat people consume more food and food production is bad for the environment. Both of these statements are generally true! What isn't true is the conclusion that anti-fat bigots draw: Therefore, fat people are bad for the environment.

This is because it's a matter of absolute scale and of lifestyle priorities. If fatness is harmful to the environment then everything we do beyond bare subsistence is harmful to the environment. The key question is "How do we manage and mitigate our footprint?" Environmental stewardship is critical, but there will always be a cost to our presence here on Earth.

Using computers and phones, or driving cars, or having children, or keeping pets, or playing video games, or buying local food (with all of its environmental inefficiencies), or using hot water...all of these things put strain on the environment.

You can't with a straight face say that fatness is environmentally wasteful and then go about your life drinking wine and petting your dog and flying on airplanes to spend weekends at ski resorts. If you do, you're both an idiot and a shitty person.

In the grand scheme of people's ecological footprints, there is actually relatively little wastefulness in the extra calories that fat people typically consume and the extra clothing fabric and other goods that fat people typically go through as a result of their size. We do far more harm to the environment by throwing away food that we let go bad than we do by fat people eating more food than thin people.

I say this often because I find it so compelling, but one of the very first things that people do when they are coming out of third-world poverty due to economic development or immigration is buy more and better food. Of all the things they could do with their money, more and better food is consistently one of the very first things.

That says a lot to me about what humans really, truly need in their lives. It is a horrifying line of thinking to imagine that humans should deprive themselves to the barest level of subsistence on something like food. That is no way to exist, and the people who call for it are usually not good people.

The bottom line: Is there room for us to be more environmentally-friendly concerning our food consumption patterns? Sure! But that's irrelevant. The environmental argument by the haters is not that thin people are bad for the environment. It's that fat people are bad for the environment. And that argument is crap. No we're not. On the list of things that humans do that are bad for the environment, "being fat" is way, WAY down the list.

Character

Lastly, anti-fat bigots will often attack fatness as an inherent character flaw, and will usually associate it with other traits like being dumb, lazy, smelly, etc.

Let me give this argument the consideration it deserves: Hate is hate. And anyone who makes this argument is a hater. And that's the end of the story.

There is no credible argument here. The one kernel of truth to it is that, yes, some fat people are horrible. Because some people are horrible. Fat or thin, there are always bad people out there. And sure, in some people their horribleness can manifest in the form of fatness among other things. But it's not particularly common—and certainly not on the level that you typically see in works of fiction, where fatness is often a stand-in for villainy. There's nothing about liking to eat that really plugs closely into a failure mode of character.

In my experience in the fat liberation and fat admiration worlds, some of the fat people there are horrible. But it's not because they're fat. It's because they were horrible people to begin with, and in that community are able to use their fatness to achieve power and attention and authority. They often have a lot of internalized fatphobia, leading them to be particularly cruel to those who are close to them. But that's not a blight on fatness: That's just the tragedy of the human species.

The bottom line: Being fat doesn't say anything about a person's character.

We Need to Glorify Obesity

So, once more with feeling: There is nothing wrong with being fat. Unless, I suppose, you want to argue that humanity itself is a blight on the planet and we should all be exterminated, in which case you're probably even worse of a person than if you had just stuck to being an anti-fat bigot.

Like I said before, I come into the fat liberation movement by way of sexual identity: I think fat people are sexy. I enjoy being fat, and I have always preferred fat partners. A significant minority of humanity feels the same way; that's diversity for you. You don't have to be into it yourself, but liking fatness is a valid identity to have. And there are all kinds of non-sexual reasons for liking fatness too, which I mentioned earlier.

Yet on the subject of fat sexuality, I have seen bigots compare liking fatness to liking cancer. I have seen it characterized as slowly committing murder, or of growing fat oneself as slowly committing suicide. And on top of that, whenever anyone says that they think fat is sexy, they are invariably and immediately lumped together in the minds of bigots with those occasional lunatics who we see on the news who use fatness as a pathway of abuse in their relationships—as if abuse never occurs if fat people are not involved, or as if one bad egg in a group means that every egg is bad. The fallacy and stupidity of these illogical mindsets speak for themselves. There are definitely abusers and criminals who are into fat. Just like there are abusers and criminals who aren't. But fatness—including the celebration of fatness and the pursuit of overeating and/or weight gain—are perfectly normal and healthy in the context of a mutually respectful and consenting relationship. It's not the subject of this essay, but let no one say otherwise.

The actual reason I mention my own background here is that most fat liberation activists aren't fighting for anything positive. They're mostly female fat folk who've been worn down their whole lives at the intersection of being fat and female, and just want fair treatment and to be left alone, and maybe even occasionally be called beautiful when they put on a nice new outfit. Most of them are not actually pro-fat and in fact harbor a great deal of self-loathing and internalized fatphobia—as shown by how derisive many of them behave toward other fat people, and how hateful some of them become if they do manage to lose weight. Most of them have no love of fatness whatsoever, and are merely forced into it by virtue of being unable to readily lose the weight, and are fighting not for the advancement of a cause but rather to break free of the hate and prejudice inflicted upon them.

That's no way to center a movement. Sexual equality doesn't come by chanting "Women aren't horrible!" Racial equality doesn't come by chanting "Black and brown people aren't horrible!" Fat people, it shouldn't have to be said, aren't horrible! And, obviously, the voices of victims and survivors of anti-fat bigotry need to be heard and prioritized as a central pillar of the fat liberation movement. But "We're not horrible"! is the beginning of the conversation, not the end of it, and the testimony of survivors isn't sufficient in itself to lift us beyond the negative: We need fat pride, fat acceptance. We need, as the bigots are always morally panicking about, to glorify obesity!

And for that we need to hear from the people of all sizes who have good things to say about fatness: good things to say about people who happen to be fat (many of whom live rich and full lives and whose fatness is often a reflection of that or even an active factor in achieving the good life); good things to say about fatness itself (the softness, heft, warmth, comfort, and size); good things to say about particular fat bodies (fat bodies can be strong, attractive, powerful, majestic); and good things to say about the experience of life as a fat person ("I'm here and I take up space, and I'm a pretty cool person!").

Once again, a broader movement has essentially failed female folk by forcing most of the work onto them. Fat liberation isn't just for female-bodied or feminine-presenting fat people. Fat liberation is for EVERYBODY: all sexes and genders, all races, but more importantly all shapes, abilities, sizes, and weights. Thin people need fat liberation too, just like males need sexual equality and white people need racial justice. Whenever prejudice persists, we all get hurt, both directly and collaterally and through seeing the people we care about get hurt.

What Can You Personally Do?

This essay isn't a screed and it's not meant to just be an interesting curio for reading. I would hope you contemplate these ideas and take some of them with you into your daily life. Here are some things you can do to advance fat liberation and fat admiration.

Pride

Let's start by talking about "pride." I can already hear many of you saying: "But I don't want to be proud of being fat. Being fat isn't something that one should be proud of."

To which I would reply: In the long term, I hope we can deprogram you of that. Because being fat is definitely a valid thing to be proud of! Think of it like hair: A great big head of hair, lovingly grown and groomed, is absolutely something for others to be proud of in themselves and admiring of in others, even if you personally don't like long hair and wouldn't want to have lots of hair yourself.

And in the more immediate term, you don't have to pretend to be proud if that's not where you're at. One is not required to be proud of their fat.

But what you can do is not get in the way of other people's fat pride. If you engage at all in fat pride discourses, be a signal booster and not a signal jammer.

Also, spreading fat pride has another benefit besides the pride itself: It disrupts bigotry channels. It's like community activists singing over the voices of fascists at a Neo-Nazi parade and drowning them out. If the claim of anti-fat bigots is that one can't be proud of being fat, then pride neutralizes their rhetoric on the spot. It also normalizes fatness and the celebration of fatness among impressionable young people whose minds are still coalescing into a worldview. Will they learn to hate their bodies and spend their whole lives at war against themselves, or will they learn that their bodies are an immense source of strength and satisfaction?

Fat pride is about more than letting your belly spill out of a bathing suit at the beach. It's about setting an example to others of what is possible and what life has the potential to look like.

Support Fat People in Public

Praise, compliment, and support fat people in all the ways you would do if they were thin. In practice, this often involves fat people's clothing and their willingness to "put themselves out there" in public.

Encourage fat people to do things that they would otherwise want to do if they were thin but don't because they are ashamed of being fat. Life is too short not to be true to yourself! Go on that bike ride. Go to that beach party. Go to that buffet. Assuming the logistics are workable—i.e. that they're not going to be institutionally excluded by things like seats that don't fit—be an ally and champion for fat people in public. And when there is institutional fat discrimination at work, do what you can to find out about it in advance and find workarounds so that your fat friends, fat family members, or fat self won't be excluded from events on a functional basis.

If you are dating a fat person, I cannot stress how important it is to be proud of them in public, and to be for them and supportive of them. The top complaint of fat people about their romantic partners is that their partners are embarrassed to be seen with them; this is especially true in mixed weight relationships where the female partner is the only fat one. Don't you dare be embarrassed to be seen with your love in public. Pride the shit out of that! This is someone you love; they are more important than the sneers and jeers of a thousand random strangers. And don't put the onus on your partner to stand up for themselves: Be a partner in legitimizing their existence in public spaces.

Don't do anything that is going to feed into a fat person's internalized fatphobia or their fear of social backlash. Instead, provide solidarity. If you're at a party or a dinner and they want more food, then have more food together with them. If they're afraid to be seen in their bathing suit because it's too revealing, then make sure your bathing suit is revealing too.

Gatekeeping

Treat people on a case-by-case basis first and foremost, but here are some general rules of thumb, especially for how you interact with strangers, casual acquaintances, family members, and colleagues:

Don't treat fat people like they have to pay for admittance into the community. Don't check fat people's health, diet, or lifestyle. It doesn't matter if they eat nothing but salads or nothing but Twinkies. It doesn't matter if they run five miles a day or can't even walk across their own house. Don't validate the prejudice that the only good fat is "healthy" fat. Fat people are allowed to be unhealthy at no penalty to their community standing or their value as individuals.

Don't call foods or dietary habits "healthy" or "unhealthy"; that's all a bunch of normative bullshit that is so inaccurate as to be useless. All foods are healthy in the right context, and all foods are unhealthy in the right context. And fatness and weight gain are not inherently unhealthy.

Don't question people's movies or reasons for being fat, staying fat, or getting fat.

Don't try to exploit new or existing fatness in people's bodies as a deviation that makes them unworthy of belonging and acceptance.

Don't ask people their weight. Don't attach people's real or perceived weight loss to compliments on their appearance. Don't ask people who've gained weight if they are pregnant.

Don't validate diet culture or weight loss rhetoric. Diets do not work; more than 90% of people who lose weight eventually gain it back. Sure, if you live in a country with an active famine, then there's nothing you can do; you don't have a choice. And if you're in the military or the fire department, or if you're a marathon runner, then sure, it's probably worth trying to maintain a lower-body weight for the time being. But these are the exceptions. Weight loss is not a valid solution for most people; stop treating it like one.

Don't celebrate or glorify weight loss. Don't antagonize it either—it's their body, and if they lose weight that's their business—but don't reinforce unethical social norms that value thinness over fatness. Don't participate in that.

There are a lot of don'ts here, and that's not a coincidence: The rule for gatekeeping in general is "Don't." Let people be as they are. Find something to judge in them that's actually worth judging, like their political views or their participation in community-building.

Fat-Shaming

Most of all—this is the most important thing—shut down anti-fat language and stereotypes. "Diet talk," "self-fat-shaming," "food shaming," anything that validates the prejudices against fatness. Shut it down. Don't just refuse to participate in it: CALL IT OUT. Shut it down.

We all know fat-shaming when we see it. It can take courage—and sometimes the battle is not worth fighting; I get it; but don't let "sometimes" be "all the time." Be present as a pro-fat force; be a shield and ally to others. And be harsh in your judgments of fat-shaming speech and behavior. When you hold back, the haters win.

Discrimination retreats when haters fear that they are outnumbered and unpopular.

Fat Positivity

One of the easiest and most affirmative things you can do to support fat liberation and fat admiration is to to cultivate positivity in your life surrounding fatness.

I've long called myself a "tummy elemental." I love tummies; I think they are impossibly cute. I tend to like all the same things about tummies that most people hate about them. And because of my consistency and flamboyance about it, my friends all know that I am the person to turn to when they have pro-tummy sentiments that they want to share.

There's a lot you can do to cultivate fat positivity in your life. You can make mealtimes a no-shame zone, and deliberately eat till you are content and encourage others to do the same. You can boost fat voices and messaging in your social media circles. You can (with a little common sense and restraint) compliment fat people in public when they're looking great or doing cool things. Basically, any negativity vector surrounding fatness has an opportunity to become a positivity vector.

Look in the Mirror

Last of all, if you're fat, and you struggle with self-acceptance, all of the above applies not only to your treatment of others, but to how you treat yourself.

It's not a lie, or fake, to treat yourself like a human being. If you have a fat body, that's your body. It's YOUR body. All the power and personality you will ever have, all the beautiful ideas and moments, will all travel through your body. Your body is YOU. We don't actually have separate souls living off in La La Land. Our bodies are 100% of who we are. And if your body has a lot of extra fat on it, or just a little bit, then your relationship with your fatness is really just a proxy for your relationship with yourself. Do you love yourself? Or do you hate yourself?

Many people are meant to be fat, perhaps even most people. In lieu of food scarcity and intense physical toil, our bodies naturally grow an abundance of flesh and hang onto it. In this case, your fatness says that you are living in good times. That's not a bad thing! And for everyone else, for the people who aren't meant to be fat: If you remove the stressors and hate from your life, the excess fatness will probably mostly go away on its own. You can't do that through dieting and make it stick, but if fatness is your body's response to hardships in your life, then stop treating your fat like it is personally responsible for all that. Focus on making life improvements elsewhere, and the fat will take care of itself. And don't hold it against the people who are supposed to be fat for continuing to be fat.

We all have our bad days. The days where we wake up and feel ugly. Those are unavoidable. But the rest of the time, you're gonna have to learn how to look at your fat body and think that it's one of the most beautiful sights in the world, and treat it with love and respect. Because to not do so is nihilistic and desolate. Your body is you. Your fat is you.

Support Fat Perspectives and Representation in Fiction!

Some of you reading this may not know that I am an author! I write science fiction and fantasy. You can learn more about it here.

I am primarily here on Tumblr to build enthusiasm for my creative work, and if you enjoyed this essay I would love it if you checked out some of my other posts, which usually aren't so overtly political, and if you were to stick around if you like what you see.

I try, very hard I do, in my fiction to be a voice for bringing fat liberation and fat pride into focus. Fat issues are almost completely absent from our science fiction and fantasy. I raise these issues from many different angles in many different lights, and I incorporate a great many fat characters into my work, some of them quite prominently. I don't try to speak for anyone else on this Earth who has their own experience to share, but I do serve as a cheerleader for fatness and as a scourge of the bigots who for too long have been able to get away with their vile hatred with no accountability. And fiction is a powerful way to do this. I don't write "pro-fat fiction" per se; I write "fiction written by a pro-fat person." Fatness isn't what the plotlines of my stories turn on. But it is just quietly, beautifully there, challenging assumptions and breaking down preconceptions.

I am also mindful of the fact that there are not enough male voices in this space. Like I was just saying, fat liberation is increasingly seen as a "women's" issue. It's not; it's a human issue that also happens to intersect with misogyny. We are all caught up in it. We all have a responsibility to do something about it.

I may be agender, so I can't actually help to make fat liberation a men's issue from within the masculine world, but I am male-bodied and am taken for a man whenever I am seen, and that's close enough. If you're a man or male-bodied, know that your voice in this can carry far.

Whatever your sex or gender, fat liberation and fat pride are a cause you can join. If you're a progressive and believe in justice for all, then it's a cause you are ethically compelled to join, whether or not you have a single nice thing to say about fatness. And if you are just a decent human being who wants to alleviate the suffering and injustice inflicted upon others, fat lib and fat pride are also worth your attention. Anti-fat bigotry doesn't usually get counted among the world's biggest prejudices, but it absolutely is. The harm it causes is very widespread, and wounds very deep in the people it strikes.

It is so hard, I have learned, for most people to take a principled stand on the right side of history, because in day-to-day life people are motivated by their vehement tribal affiliations and their desperate need for belonging. If you are capable of reading this and parsing what I am saying, you are already well ahead of the general population. You have an opportunity to rectify your failure to empathize. You can question your beliefs, confront your biases, deprogram your prejudices. The cause is always worthy and it isn't going anywhere. But you can help speed it along.

And in addition to standing up in real life, you can support artists like myself who work to advance justice through the realm of fiction. So forgive me a shameless Patreon plug; I am not rich and every little bit of support helps.

[vividly-untidy]

I want you constantly high and intoxicated just as much as I want you constantly snacking. I want to see for myself how you'll look when you lose your grip on both reality and your weight, just so I can make all of the "sane" decisions for you - deciding what you'll do, wear, eat, everything. It's so much fun to watch you slowly become the docile cow you were born to be.

[hungry-and-hornyyyyy]

This fetish has full control over my mind, body and soul, I'm completely helpless. i want nothing more than to submit to a life of gluttony. I don't know why my brain is wired to associate pleasure with fat and food, but it does and i cant seem to control myself. I need a feeder who will take hold of my potential and fatten me beyond my wildest fantasy

[amans-mulierum-pinguium]

I don't know why but I've really come to love the idea of a girl getting too fat to masturbate comfortably.

Like, just imagine: you are sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at your thickened reflection in the mirror, getting more and more turned on at the sight of new fat deposits and stretchmarks. You touch your tits, which have exploded with the recent added weight, and want nothing more than to reach down to touch yourself, knowing that it is already wet.

But the problem is you can't. You started having trouble maybe 30 pounds ago, when you realized you have to squeeze your arm through the crevice of flesh between your belly and thigh. That crevice has grown deeper, though, and your chubbier arm cannot fit through it to allow your fingers between your thighs anymore.

That's not the only problem, though. Your belly has gotten so big that you can't even think of masturbating while sitting up. The hanging mass of fat sits atop your lap when you are upright. Spreading your legs as wide as they can go now only allows it to spill between them, creating a curtain of blubber that blocks the view you know would be so enticing. And that's not even to mention the weight. You've tried to pick it up and hold it out of the way so you can reach down and finger yourself, but all that did was make you lose your breath and leave both your arms sore for a week.

Your thighs are an issue as well. They, like everything else on you, are too fat. Their tree trunk size makes it so that they are almost constantly touching each other, whether you're walking, sitting, or even spreading your legs. The rub between them is so intense that you've chafed your way through multiple pairs of pants. But the rubbing also feels so good, and when you get excited the jiggling and touching only serves to stimulate you more.

So, because of everything, you have to try to masturbate in a very particular way. You have to lie all the way back, pull your belly up as much as possible and hope it doesn't droop back down, spread your legs as much as you can now, and reach your arm down between the folds of your belly and thigh, fighting the weight just to touch yourself. And even then, your gelatinous fupa blocks the final back. You can grab the top and shake it, but it's not the same feeling as pushing your fingers into your own soaking wetness. The problem is that all the extra barriers, testaments to just how enormous you've gotten, just make you more lustful.

So you lay on the bed, mountainous stomach jiggling atop your ruined body, desperately shaking your own thighs and fupa to get some kind of stimulation. You pant from the sensation and effort, and moan from it feeling good but not being quite enough. "I'm just too fat." You moan to yourself. "I'm too fat to even touch myself." You still end up cumming.

So the next time you're on your computer you finally break down and buy some toys. Anything to give you the extra bit of reach and leverage to get yourself off.

OK, maybe I do get why I like that idea so much.

[indulgentjax]

when you’re fat and have been for a long time, it’s easy to forget how fat you are. how much space you actually take up. how you actually look to people outside of yourself.

that’s why it’s so hot to be told how fat i look. how big i’ve gotten. how huge i look sprawled out on the couch as i reach for another bite.

pat my belly and tell me how easy it is to see that i’ve grown. how you can tell that my belly is getting heavier as it hangs down lower. that when you see me walk by, you notice my ass jutting out just a little bit more. the way you’ve noticed a slight waddle as i walk to the fridge for another treat.

really, i do forget just how fat i am sometimes. don’t let me forget.

[deathfeedingfan]

Toxic feeder appreciation

Feeders who tell you you need to lose weight as they swap out your diet sodas for full fat bottles, your protein shakes for bulk gainer, and pack as much grease into your 'healthy' meals as they can. Getting off on how upset you are when the scale reads that much higher than it did the week before and knowing they're going to ruin you forever

Feeders who don't let you lift a finger, breaking down your independence by catering to your every gluttonous desire before you even know you have it. Lulling you into complete lazy dependency until before you know it you're a bed bound blob guzzling down anything they put in front of you

Feeders who see you as nothing but a vessel for fat. Who make sure you know you don't matter at all outside of the piles of lard cascading down your body. That you exist purely to eat yourself into obscene immobility and beyond for their pleasure

[niftyisoncrack]

WHO ELSE IS HYPE FOR THE 26TH??

Bless, thought we were gonna have to wait so much longer than a week for more episodes!

Doin the fat nuggets shuffle in excitement

[shrubberylogistic]

Waking Up Fat

Dawn’s warm light filtered through the curtains, and Lily slowly roused from her slumber. With a sleepy stretch, she lifted an arm, then her back, attempting to sit up. Her body pulsed with a clammy heat, fixed and unresponsive.

Lily tilted her head, mouth dry. Her eyes fluttered open to the ceiling. Something felt funny. Groggy and disoriented, she gently nudged an elbow over the pillow, reaching for her phone. Her arms were heavy.

Too heavy.

Something was up. Lily’s heart raced, her senses ratcheting. Something wasn’t right. She craned her neck, trying to rouse her legs. Gravity strengthened its welcome. The bed creaked beneath her, and it took all of Lily’s strength to crunch her palms, pressing, hoisting a shoulder to the headboard.

Her movements were wearsome, stunted - strapped down, somehow. Lily felt through her bedsheets, under and around. Layers of sloth shifted with her soft, cumbersome frame. She thrust the duvet off, looked down, and froze.

Her body had ballooned, languid and overwhelming. Lily stopped breathing. Her belly loomed - an immense mass that flopped half way to her knees. Her legs creased together where her bedtime shorts had burst open; too tiny to contain her new curves, the few pink scraps left faltering around a snapped, sunken waistband.

A panicked gasp left her lips. Lily shuffled free, kicking her sweaty covers, her hips spilling to the edge of the mattress. She stroked chubby, fidgeting fingers over the contours of vast, foreign curves. Summoning every ounce of strength, she swung her colossal legs over the bedside. The floor trembled as she stood, gripped by arousal, stunned by the pressure on her muscles. She wobbled unsteadily for a moment before grabbing the dresser for support.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Lily whimpered. Her face, once delicate and angular, was now round and bloated, framed by a cascade of unruly hair. Her pyjama tee was a strap of twisted, fraying threads, banded around her heaving chest. Lily clapped a flat palm to her mouth, blushing. Every movement was an effort. Her breathing came in frantic, laboured wheezes.

She was massive. Not an inch had escaped change. Lily rubbed her eyes, balking at her reflection. Her slender cheekbones had gone. Her neckline had vanished. She had gone to bed slender, shapely, poised and assured. Yet clear as the crisp sky that stretched above the neighbourhood, she’d woken up a quaking, panting blob, shorn of most what she’d been wearing. Her hefty chest hunkered as she peeled off her shirt, casting a marvelling glance at her adopted form. A deep relish, a groundedness, filtered through her stretching, timid skin.

Lily giggled. Tensing her toes, she gingerly made her way to the bathroom, her footsteps resonating throughout the house, thudding on the hardwood floor. She bit her lip at the swing of her gut, quivering at the way it gently kneaded her thighs. The scale was a challenge to see beneath her paunch. Steadying herself with a shaking hand on the sink, she quietly stepped on, scanning the display and confirming her thoughts with a gulp.

350.8 pounds.

Disbelief rallied, engulfing her. Lily let out a moan. A turgid heat took the space between her legs, her mind spinning, her heartbeat soaring, her feet tingling. She was lardy, for the first time in her life. She was a whale. She rested her belly on the sink and let it drop, hanging in a long and lazy curve that filled the bowl to the taps.

Lily crossed her throbbing fingers. Her face was a picture of intense, awestruck wonder. She knew there was more to discover. The simple act of showering felt like a Herculean task. Lifting a huge leg into the tub, she spread her stance, struggling to balance while she twisted the tap. Hot water flowed down her bulky form - a comfort she clung to as she dreamed of the big, wide world outside. She dried her body and towelled her hair, squeezing her arms into a gown that clung to her like a second skin.

Downstairs, preparing the most important meal of the day became an ordeal. The staircase was a heart-stopping descent, knuckles white with every crunching, undercalculated step. The kitchen was a maze of limitations. Wide and ungainly, Lily struggled to stretch for the cupboards - too big-bellied to climb up on the counter like she used to. Every step, every task took longer.

She watched helplessly, beholden to urges as the cereal box slipped out her grip, spilling across the floor. Her ass clipped the cutlery drawer, wobbling as she seized on a knife and fork. Fishing four thick slices of bread from the packet, she was in minutes munching woozily through a clutch of syrup strewn pancakes and slices of peanut butter on toast, smacking her lips, perched precariously on the edge of her old kitchen chair.

Lily took a long draw of milk from the bottle, head in her hand. Even the motion of eating felt different. Her stomach gurgled, and she found herself groaning, turgid and stiff. Lily swallowed a burp, doggedly reducing her breakfast to crusts and crumbs, slurping and inhaling. Sucking her fingers, she gave her belly a friendly pat. She was still so hungry. Reaching for the remnants of the cereal in the box, she took a pudgy fistful, then another, and another, cramming them into her mouth in peals of indulgent bliss.

The thought of ordering in struck her like a thunderbolt…

[thefatking0]

heard yall liked fat (;

[vividly-untidy]

idea: ur my housewife and i feed u daily with pastries and cakes - u eventually get so wide that ur hips cant squeeze out of the front door, leaving u stuck inside the house like the fat little housewife u are for me:)

[kallietell]

A Little Extra Room

Justin clearly wants Trixie fatter, and her willpower is far too weak to resist. He takes advantage of it, forcing her to eat more and more while she grows larger and larger.  

“Just two more bites,” Justin murmured, excitement leaching into the borders of his words. “You can do it baby, you're doing so good. Just open up your mouth again…good girl.”

Trixie groaned as she slowly chewed, head thrown back and eyes wrenched tightly shut as both hands rubbed her taut, overfilled gut. She forced a swallow then groaned louder, her bulging stomach rising and falling dramatically as she breathed heavily. Her moans had reached a fever pitch and she whimpered and whined, too full to even speak. “One more,” said Justin in a near whisper, eyes locked onto the groaning, bloated woman. She opened her mouth to protest but burped loudly instead. Giving her gut a couple of weak pats she burped again, only to have Justin gently grab a side roll and give it a few wobbling bounces, forcing a cacophony of burps and moans out of her food smeared lips. 

“Look at you baby, god. Just one more bite,” he repeated breathlessly. “No.” Trixie whined, still making circles on her overfed gut. “No, I can't. I can't, I'm too full.” 

“It’s ok baby,” promised Justin, reassuringly, picking up the fork with the remaining bite of cake. Crumbs were the only remnant of the grocery store sheet cake, and one glance at the scene would make it obvious where it had gone. “No,” protested Trixie weakly as he brought the fork up to her mouth. He grabbed her by the side roll again, shaking and jiggling her aggressively as she groaned again, feeling herself wobble. Justin gave her belly a hard slap and she let out a raucous burp, nearly embarrassed by how loud it was. “Good girl,” he praised gently, rubbing the spot he’d just slapped. “Now you have more room.” He brought the fork to her lips again and she opened her mouth obligingly, moaning slightly as she chewed the last of the sugary sweet confection. 

“Good girl,” said Justin, making no effort to conceal how his words dripped with lust. “That’s my big girl. You’re getting so huge, aren’t you?” Trixie groaned in response, her chubby hands planted firmly on her gut as she whined. “Aren’t you,” Justin repeated, smacking her gut again at its right, rounded top. She burped again then resumed her groaning, too full to even sit up. 

“God, look at you. You look like a beached whale, your blubber is spilling out everywhere.” He gave her fatty belly a pinch and she burped again, unexpectedly this time. “You sound like such a pig,” he teased, both hands finding their way to her overstretched gut. “You look like one too. God you’re so fat.” He gets closer, applying more pressure as he wobbles her gut harder and harder. She moans in protest, burping louder and louder as Justin shook her gut more and more roughly. 

“Look at all this,” he marveled. “Look at how much I can grab. You’ve really let yourself go haven’t you? You’ve lost control.” Trixie moans in response but Justin shakes his head, pushing her further backwards into her couch as he squeezes her plush fat. 

“I said,” he began, kneading her fat as she cried out from the pressure, “you’ve lost control. Haven’t you?” He gives her gut another firm slap. “Haven’t you?” Justin laughs as Trixie nods through her burp. “Come on, use your words piggy,” he instructs. “Have you lost control?” “Yes,” breathed Trixie desperately, both hands again rubbing her globular gut. 

“Yea,” Justin affirmed in a low voice husky with desire. “Little out of control piggy. Stuffed so fat that you can’t even move. Seriously Trixie, look at all this.” He’d begun to wobble her gut slowly again and her entire fattened body shook from the movement, her plump tits bouncing up and down as they nearly escaped the tiny crop top she wore. Her thick arms and plush chubby thighs also jiggled along, the newly swelled fat all over her body shaking as one. 

“You fucking whale,” Justin mummered, barely audibly as he gazed down at her hungrily. “You big fat pig, you bloated fucking pig.” Trixie’s eyes were closed now and she’d resumed her groaning, too full to do much else. “Stay right there, just like that.” He reached for his belt buckle with one hand, the other still glued to Trixie’s swollen gut. “Just like that. I’m gonna take care of you baby.”

The next day, Trixie awoke to the smell of bacon. She sighed. She wasn’t sure exactly how long Justin had been up, but smelling bacon was never a good sign when it came to him, especially after a night like last night. She stretched, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then yawned. No matter how much sleep she got after one of Justin’s ‘dinner parties’, she was always still exhausted the next day, swollen and tender from how much food she’d packed in (among other things). Justin was always energetic afterwards, in a great mood, but she would be lethargic for the next week. 

She surprised herself by letting out a burp, then she flushed. Her hand dropped to her stomach and she started, taken aback by how far her hand sunk into her own plushness. Her gut bulged out further than it ever had when she was stuffed, but instead of firm and taut her rounded belly bounced and wobbled at just a touch. Oh god, she thought, sinking her fingers into her fat as she investigated her newly plumped body. How much damage did he do last night, she wondered absentmindedly as she played with her wobbling rolls. How many calories was that cake?

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up with effort, cringing as she noted how long it took her fleshy body to stop jiggling at the movement. She was completely naked, the previous evening's clothes tossed somewhere around the living room, and each step she took emphasized her weight. The swell of her belly shook and bounced as she plodded to the bathroom, and her ass wobbled cumbersomely behind her, nearly uncontrollable. She looked at herself in the mirror, pausing a beat before her hands fell to her gut for a second time. Things were really getting out of hand. She stared back at the fattened version of herself in the mirror, gripping her fat in disbelief. 

Her face had swollen to a moon shape and her chubby cheeks had exploded with fat, squeezing her eyes into a smaller shape that peered out from a face framed by double chins. Her neck had nearly disappeared in a ring of fat and wobbled when she shook her head or chewed. She was unrecognizable, a fact that had been confirmed when she ran into an old friend from college who’d struggled to believe that the bloated tub in front of her was the once thin Trixie. Her body had fared no better, and she sported thick swollen arms hanging with fat, pudgy, inflated tits that sagged and bulged out of her bras, and most prominently, a porky, tubby beer gut that refused to succumb to gravity. The more she put on the more it bulged forward, and she was beginning to have a hard time buckling her seatbelt when Justin drove her to get more fast food. 

He’d grown rock hard the first time he saw her struggle with that, speeding home to shove burgers down her throat until she was ready to pop while he moaned about how sexy she was. She couldn’t contain her gut in any of her clothes anymore, instead allowing it to hang out of the bottom in a way that drove Justin wild, enticing him to slap the exposed flesh and make it jiggle. 

She sighs again, lifting her gut with two hands before releasing it with a plop. She felt it bounce, her entire middle shaking rhythmically. She was getting huge. Everything Justin was saying was right. Just the other day she’d burst out of her shorts while he fed her, the only time he’d ever ended a feeding prematurely to fuck her right then and there. She’d still been required to finish her food afterwards though, and Justin had been so gentle as he shoved in bite after bite, feeding her well into the morning. Her capacity was increasing, and even though she wanted to try and conceal it from him for her own sake, Justin knew. He’d been pushing her to her limits more and more later, and it was beginning to show. She was exploding. Every time Justin fed her she woke up feeling, and looking, much larger. It had to be her imagination, she couldn’t put on that much weight in one night, but the bloat never disappeared, swelling more and more with each greasy session. 

She turned around, inspecting her widened, wobbling ass. This was the only reason she’d agreed to try this in the first place, she’d always wanted to be thick, and her wish had been more than granted. Her enormous, shelf ass wobbled dramatically whenever she walked, her thick thighs rubbing as she forced them past one another. Justin was obsessed, constantly smacking it sharply just to watch it ripple. Trixie took a step back. She could barely take herself in the mirror anymore, she was getting too wide. She pinched her belly, then sighed once more. Breakfast time. 

She waddled to her closet to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, wondering what Justin had prepared today as she turned sideways to slide her way into the narrow closet door. It had always been a tight squeeze, even when she was a size 4, but now she could barely work her way inside. She sucked in, pushing in her belly with her hands for extra room, then forced her way through the doors narrow frame sideways. The first time Justin had seen that little maneuver he’d taken her right there in the closet, not even bothering to grab a few boxes of Oreos to stuff her with first. 

She grabbed a pair of XXL shorts that had grown one ‘X’ too small and stepped into them, her bulging round gut acting as an obstacle as always. She got the pants over her thighs after some resistance, then sucked in with all her might and yanked the waistband over her lower belly. The fabric creaked but stayed, and Trixie gently let out her belly in relief, trying not to dwell on how large its natural shape expanded as it swelled forward. Pants on, she turned to the problem of a shirt. Her belly refused to hang, instead protruding further and further outwards, which meant no shirt could be yanked down to cover its swell. She settled for T-shirt’s that wore more like crop tops nowadays, and let her plump, tubby gut round out unencumbered. She pulls down the shirt anyways, watching as it sprang back up immediately, then waddled out of the closet. Despite herself, she was hungry.

When she reached the kitchen Justin greeted her cheerily without turning, still focused on the mountain of pancakes he’d been constructing while she slept. “How’d you sleep?” he asked as she shuffled towards the kitchen chair. “Fine,” she replies lightly, dropping into the armless chair heavily as it creaked to make its protests known. 

“You were so fucking sexy last night,” Justin reminisced wistfully. “So fucking sexy, he begins, turning to her. I…” he pauses as he catches sight of her, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asks with sincerity, alarmed by the expression in his face. 

“You…look huge,” marveled Justin in awe. 

“Justin…” Trixie started, attempting to assuage him, but Justin couldn’t be deterred. “God, you look like you put on 20 pounds just last night, I’ve never seen you look so…fat.” He dropped the spatula and took a few steps towards her, the pancake browning on the stove forgotten. 

“Stand up.” He instructed, and Trixie did as she was told, knowing it would be easier than letting him convince her. He poked her belly gently, pressing his finger deep into the swells of fat on her side rolls, then grabbed the lowest one firmly and gave her belly a series of hard wobbles. “What have you done to yourself?” he whispered, clearly growing more and more excited as he fondled her gut. “You're bursting out of those clothes,” he gloated with a grin, smacking the overtaxed shorts that her belly and ass were stretching paper thin. “I always am,” Trixie replied with an eye roll. 

“Not like this,” murmured Justin in a near whisper. “You’re getting so fat.” 

He grabbed her belly with both hands and pulled her near, Trixie feeling against her upper stomach just how excited he was by the way her shirt was fitting. “You’re getting so fucking fat,” he repeated, shaking her more aggressively now. “You’re so fucking fat. God, just look at yourself.” He smacks her gut, admiring the syncopation of its jiggles. “Look at all this. Look at yourself.”

By the time he’d started talking like this, it was already too late. He was going to feed her again, another little dinner party, except this one was at 10 in the morning. Justin usually only started his lustful, excessive sessions at night, but he had been overfeeding her during the day more and more often recently. 

“Sit down,” he says with a point, and Trixie obliges soundlessly, knowing resistance was futile. Justin brings over a platter laden with bacon, two plates stacked high with pancakes, a plate of hash browns, a plate of sausage, and a gallon of orange juice. 

“Justin,” she warned, her hands already resting on her stomach as if feeling its upcoming pangs of fullness. “Justin, I’m really not hungry.”

“Even better,” he replies casually, pouring half a bottle of syrup on the first stack of fluffy, golden brown discs. “Eat up.” 

He hands her a fork and Trixie surveys the scene miserably, feeling her empty gut press into the table despite how far back she’s scooted her chair. 

“You know you want it, fatty,” came Justin's voice floating into her ear. “You need it, don’t you?” He asked coyly, watching the expression on her face shift near imperceptibly as he pushed the plate closer to her. “Go ahead big girl. I know you can barely stop yourself.” 

The mouth watering aroma became too much and Trixie relented, first shoving two pieces of bacon into her mouth greedily before also cramming in a massive bite of pancakes, the syrup dripping from her lips. 

“Fuck Trixie,” Justin breathed. She hunkered down and began to eat with abandon, shirking her fork in favor of fingers quickly becoming sticky with syrup. She crammed bacon into her mouth by the threes, folding her pancakes so she could get the whole circle in her mouth at once. She paused, burped loudly, then dove back in, temporarily foregoing her bacon to scarf down the entire plates of hash browns and sausages in just a few moments. 

“Keep going baby,” Justin cooed, beginning to trace gentle circles across her rapidly bloating gut. “Don’t stop.”

Trixie couldn’t stop if she’d wanted to, and despite her earlier complaints in the mirror she ate like a woman possessed, greasy and sticky hands easing burps out of her overstuffed gut while her breathing got heavier and heavier. She completed the first stack of pancakes and was now working on the second, the reminder of the syrup bottle upended over them. Her face was becoming a mess and her fatty chins were slick with syrup and bacon grease. She grabbed two more syrupy pancakes, folded them, and attempted to shove both in her mouth, her cheeks bulging and rippling as she tried to chew while forcing even more into her greedy face. 

Another few handfuls of bacon and the once towering platter was beginning to run low, the remainder of the greasy meat sticky with the syrup her hands were coated in. She doubled down, alternating between massive bites of pancake and savory swallows of bacon, her gut swelling impossibly round and forcing her chair even further back from the table. Justin was watching in awe, face contorting into an lust drunk expression that bordered on the painful as his jeans grew tighter and tighter like Trixie’s gut. His hands were back on her body now, and she felt her belly being jiggled, wobbled, and shaken as she packed in bite after bite, feeling the swell and breathing deeper as her fat gut stretched tighter and tighter. 

Just as she reached for the last pancake, slowing down a bit as the calories began to catch up to her, Justin muttered “Fuck,” and jumped out of his seat, heading towards the oven. She groaned then burped at the effort of turning her head, barely able to see what the urgency was. 

Justin had taken the final, scorched pancake off of the stove and was now opening the oven to a decadent, sickeningly sweet smell to which Trixie was well accustomed. His famous cinnamon rolls, famous not only for their incredible taste, but also for the unbelievable amount Trixie can put away. She whimpers at the smell of the rolls then shoves the last pancake into her mouth anyway, syrup dripping down her chin. Justin sets them to cool then crosses the kitchen back to her, hands already extended to grip her impossibly fattened gut. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he encouraged, beginning to rub slow circles on her distended gut. “You were hungry, weren’t you?” Trixie ignores him, continuing to moan, and he slaps her gut forcefully for the infraction. Trixies groaned then let loose an enormous burp, face flushing.

“I asked you if you were hungry Trixie,”said Justin once more, a wild look dancing behind his eyes. “Yes,” Trixie panted in between heavy breaths, attempting to lean back in the too small chair to relieve some pressure from her growing gut. 

“You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” Justin informed her, no hint of a question behind his intonation. 

“Justin no, no,” Trixie begged, squirming as she attempted to shift herself forward again. “No, I can't.” 

Justin rubbed her gut lovingly, playfully kneading its rounded top. “Yes you can. You want to.”

“No!” she whined in a near yell. 

Justin smacked her gut for her outburst, forcing a series of deep burps out of her mouth. She groaned as he rubbed her expansive belly, muttering comforting words before smacking her gut again, leaving her wobbling and burping while he went to grab the icing glazed rolls. 

“Now,” He says on his return, setting the pan down on the table. “Are you hungry?” 

Trixie was the picture of gluttony, absolutely beached in the chair by her massive, spherical gut that dwarfed the rest of her tubby body. She leaned her head forward with effort, rubbing her stretched gut fruitlessly. 

“Trixie,” says Justin, taking a firmer grip on the bottom of her porky belly. “I asked you a question. Are you hungry?”

Trixie nodded listlessly and Justin began to shove the still warm rolls into her mouth with abandon, smearing cinnamon sugar and icing all over her face. Her plump lips opened again and again for more, moaning nonstop now as her belly slipped out of shorts and bulged free, her stretch mark covered love handles oozing over the back waistband. Her T-shirt was like a bra, and she noted with horror that even the sleeves were starting to cut into her chubby arms. 

Her belly surged further and further forward, and Justin couldn’t keep his left hand off her while his right hand forced the rolls into her face faster and faster. “You’re so fucking fat,” he was saying, kneading the still pliable rolls as he filled her.”You're getting so fat.” The pan was nearing its end now, and Justin fed her even faster, cramming her cheeks until they were about to pop. She swallowed the massive bites with effort, her mind completely empty as Justin forced her further and further over her limit. 

Trixie swallowed the last bite then burped loudly, gripping her gut with both hands. 

“Look at you,” Justin choked out after a moment, his voice betraying his desire. “You’re such a fucking pig. Look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

Trixie was so full she’d begun to hiccup, and the alternating hiccups and burps made her jiggle slightly as she lay back in the chair, trying to catch her breath. “I *hic* didn't,” she responded laboriously. “You did this to me.” 

Justin didn’t say a word, instead standing silently and reaching both hands toward her. 

“Justin, I can’t get up right now, I can't,” she whined, drawing out the word. “Yes you can,” said Justin calmly. “I’m gonna take you to the bedroom, come back and get the whipped cream, and then you’re gonna show me exactly how you got to be such a fat, greedy piggy.” 

She groaned again and Justin smacked her gut, eliciting her loudest, deepest burp of the day. 

“There,” he said, watching her continue to wobble. “Now you have a little extra room.”

[beckyts]

No more puppygirls, it’s all about leafeon girls now☺️🤭

[indulgentjax]

an oreo snack

You crack open the bag of Oreos thinking you'll just have a few. You just want a taste. You've already eaten so much today, and you're trying not to overdo it…too much. These snacks need to at least last until tomorrow, and you're running out of them quickly.

You eat the first, trying to take your time, but it tastes so good. Before you're even done chewing the second, you're already greedily reaching for a third. The sensation of eating them is so delicious and fulfilling, you don't want it to end. And for that sensation to keep going, well…you have to keep eating. So you do.

You eat and eat, crumbs falling around you, gobbling almost mindlessly yet still casually aware of each cookie you eat until you've hit the end of the first row. You lick your fingers and take a deep breath in and out, feeling uncomfortably full. This is the way it usually goes. You know how much you're eating in the back of your mind, but the sense to stop simply isn't there. That must be where this swollen gut came from; the one that's hanging down, gently resting on the couch between your legs in front of you. Isn't it?

That belly, so soft and heavy, stuffed full so much of the time. The only way you know when to stop is when you're groaning and uncomfortably full, knowing full well that you can't possibly take anymore. But you know you're not there quite yet, there's still some room. You start on the second row.

As you make your way through the second row of cookies, you start to slow down a bit. Your belly is stuffed, and you let out a moan as you feel all that food stretch you out to feel so big and bloated. It's obvious how stuffed full you are - your shirt has slowly ridden up to expose your increasingly round gut. At this point, that last row of cookies feels like a stretch. It might be too much. But you can't help yourself - what's a few more?

You start on the last row, not knowing where you'll fit the rest of them in that big, full belly, stuffed to the brim. You're panting between bites now, so full that you're barely able to catch a breath. As you miraculously finish the last cookie, you fall back into the couch, the empty package as evidence of what you've done to yourself, unable to think about anything but how stuffed you are.

You put hands on your belly to relieve some of that pressure, starting to feel the relief as you rub and squeeze that aching gut. All of the sudden, you let out a huge burp and feel just a little of that bloated feeling fade. This time, no one was around to see you make such a pig of yourself or hear the embarrassing sound of your burp, but you hope maybe next time, someone will be.

[ir0n-moon]

It's International Day Against Fatphobia! Known in some circles (who don't know any better) as "World Ob***ty Day".

💛 I love you, fat selfshippers whose self inserts are also fat! (most importantly, your f/os love you!) 🩷 I love you, fat selfshippers who still feel like their self inserts "need to" be smaller in order to earn your f/o's love (they don't, and you don't!) 🧡 I love you, fat people who selfship with canonically fat characters! 💛 I love you, fat people who selfship with non-fat characters (or characters who don't have any recognizable humanoid form) but headcanon them to be fat <3

🩷 Your romantic f/o loves your body just the way it is, they think you're absolutely gorgeous! They would not change a thing about you. You are perfect in their eyes! 🧡 Your romantic f/o would never fetishize you for your body. They love who you are both inside and out! 💛 Your f/o wants you to enjoy all the foods you love without feeling you need to apologize or hide it! Yes, really!

🩷 Your f/o would protect you from anyone who shames you for you body size. In fact, no one would even dare to do so, knowing how protective they are of you! 🧡 If your f/o has been fatphobic in canon I am so sorry. They were written by fatphobic creators who did not care about the damage they would cause to real people. Your f/o is incredibly sorry, and they would never do or say anything like that to any fat person again, and especially not to you!

Do NOT talk about diets or intentional weight loss on this post, thank you!

[violetbeauregut]

Violet's Big Misunderstanding

It's been a while but I was inspired to write another feedee fantasy ❤️❤️❤️

Violet was browsing the ice cream section at the grocery store with her feeder at her back, absentmindedly rubbing her belly, when she heard the question. 

“When are you due?” The middle aged woman asked, her cart skidding to a halt. She gestured to Violet’s big, swollen belly and gave her a hopeful smile. Violet could see the barest hint of uncertainty in that smile. This woman knew it was impolite to make such an assumption, but was making the gamble because Violet’s feeder was worshiping her gut in a way that was almost always reserved for pregnancy. 

She felt her feeder press closer to her. He used the hands on her belly to gently steer her to face the woman. He ran a hand along the curve of her belly and said, “She looks ready to pop, doesn’t she?”

The woman chuckled goodnaturedly. “Any day now, then?”

Violet could almost feel his mischievous grin. He patted the side of her belly lovingly. “I swear she’s getting bigger by the hour.” 

“Well that’s perfectly natural, dear,” the woman said to Violet, reassuringly. “I was as big as a house by the time I had my first.”

Violet blushed deeply. Because her feeder had so readily played along, she was too ashamed to admit that she was actually just obese and not on the verge of giving birth. It was moments like these where she wondered if she had let things go too far–if she had let her gluttony and lust take her past the point of no return. It certainly felt that way, as her embarrassment at being so fat she was mistaken for pregnant warred with her arousal. 

Her feeder peered down at her, assessing her red cheeks and quickened breath. He moved around to her side and put a hand over her shoulders before making a show of squeezing her against him and rubbing her thick upper arm. “Aww, honey. There’s no need to get embarrassed; you are eating for two.”

The older lady nodded enthusiastically, saying, “He’s right. You’re pregnant, sweetheart, not fat. You just focus on growing that baby and you can always lose the weight later.” She turned her attention to Violet’s feeder. “Now you get that beautiful girl home and get her whatever she wants to eat. Make sure she stays off her feet too. Carrying around that belly is hard work.” 

Once the woman had given her fill of advice and walked away, Violet turned to him. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

He laughed again, reaching down and giving her gut a quick slap. “With how good you’ve been lately, piggy, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” 

She blushed again, looking down at her distended belly. It was hanging heavily between her hips– a testament to how much fatter she had gotten recently. “I feel bad about lying to that woman though.” 

He pinched her chin and tipped her face back up to look at him. “Nothing we said was a lie. You are eating for two– for you and me. She made the assumption. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that. I know how wet you must be right now.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “In fact, I know you enjoyed it so much that we are going to keep going. Okay, piggy?”

She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. If he gave her a choice, she would always surrender to him like the obedient sow she was. 

–

Violet waddled around the store holding an open bag of mini powdered donuts. The white sugar dusted her lips, fingers, and shirt (which had gotten so tight that it was riding up, exposing a strip of belly). The shopping cart was always in reach and trailing beside her. In addition to the fattening foods that were a regular part of their grocery runs, open wrappers and containers were littered inside. She had already eaten what would be a week’s worth of snacks for most people. 

It was frowned upon to eat in the store and then pay for the items during check out, but anytime an employee looked at her disapprovingly, her feeder would shrug dramatically and say, “cravings,” in an apologetic tone. She was left to gorge in peace after that. 

Violet was getting increasingly out of breath. Not only was she stuffed so full that her stomach was compressing her lungs, her walk through the aisles was more exercise than she was now used to. Not to mention that her heart rate would pick up everytime her feeder would make loud, teasing comments down the busiest aisles like, “pick up two, baby, I know that you’re going to gobble one up on the car ride home,” “let’s get the one with less sugar, the doctor said a forty pound gain was average, but you’re getting close to seventy,” and “careful, I know you feel like you have free reign to eat as much as you want right now, but remember that the weight has to come off eventually.” 

“I need to sit soon,” she panted. 

“Poor baby, I know that big belly is getting hard for you to carry,” he said. “Let me help you.”

He stepped behind her and let his hands trail over her wide hips until they snaked underneath her gut. He lifted her belly up with a quiet grunt that made Violet smile. 

Before she could even let him know what a relief it was to have him take some of the heft off of her lower back, a young woman popped up in front of her, excitedly holding her own swollen belly. Her’s, Violet could tell, really was a baby bump–and Violet could also tell by the way that only her belly was round while everything else looked tight and toned, that this woman was naturally thin and fit. She looked down at her stuffed, barely clothed pork belly that was covered in crumbs and sugar. She was immediately flooded with embarrassment. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re like twins!” The woman exclaimed. “I'm thirty-four weeks, but you look so much bigger than me! How far along are you?” 

“Any day now,” Violet mumbled, unwilling to lie so blatantly. 

“Oh how exciting! I’m sure you are both so ready. I know I can’t wait for my due date. I’m so sick of being this big and waddling around everywhere.” 

Her feeder laughed softly. “I bet! I’m sure you aren’t used to having to carry all that extra weight in your belly. You’re lucky though,” Violet’s feeder said, moving his hands to the side of her belly. “You’re all baby, but my Violet is swelling up everywhere.” 

After a few more pleasantries and the other woman’s sympathies that poor Violet’s fat distribution might mistakenly be seen as obesity rather than pregnancy, they finally got to the checkout line. 

“Have you finally gotten enough to eat, piggy?” He whispered in her ear. She nodded, rubbing the top of her tight belly. 

“I don’t think so,” He said with a smirk. He pointed to the rows of candy bars lining the top of the conveyor belt. He grabbed a handful of her lardy lower belly and gave it a little shake. “Go grab about six of them. You are eating for two after all.” 

She shuffled around to the front of their car and grabbed handfuls of chocolate, realizing too late that lifting her arms to reach the candy left her belly largely exposed and her deep red stretch marks on full display. She quickly scanned the faces of the shoppers around her as she desperately tugged her top down, but no one was staring at her or giving her the usual disapproving looks. Just when she thought she was in the clear, a hand that did not belong to her feeder landed squarely on the most round part of her belly. 

A large, strange man was now groping her stuffed gut. He rubbed hard circles into her belly and turned his head to speak to Violet’s feeder as if she were not even there. She was furious– were pregnant people really supposed to be okay with being touched without permission? Her feeder eyed her without responding to the man, ready to jump in at the first sign of her distress, but she gave him a look that kept him in his place. Violet let out a tremendous burp and giggled. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I ate too much.” 

“Oh, it’s alright,” he said, patting her belly again gently. “That’s to be expected with mothers-to-be.”

She feigned a look of surprise. “What? I’m not pregnant.”

The man looked at her and then back at her feeder as if waiting for him to contradict her. Her feeder just shook his head and Violet could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

“No baby, I’m afraid,” he said to the horrified stranger. “Just a lardy pig belly.” 

The man released her and stumbled back, offering apologies as he fled. Her feeder hugged her from behind, his hands wrapped around her middle. He smiled into her hair and gently squeezed her fat, testing the softness with his large hands. “You sure are proud of this huge blubbery gut, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” She challenged. 

“Oh yes, greedy girl,” he said, rubbing the swollen curve of her belly that had started their little rouse in the first place. “Now open that box of snack cakes and make it bigger for me. Next time I want someone to ask if you’re carrying twins.”

[filled-with-fat]

The ultimate guide to making your boyfriend fat 🥓🫃🍕😍

First, ask for consent. For those who have never heard of gaining, or have fallen victim to society’s relentless fat phobia, it might seem slightly unusual to want to PURPOSEFULLY pack on a few pounds. So start gently; talk to your boyfriend about how boring it is having to constantly eat healthy, and how all you want to do is to just give in to your cravings. Ease him in to the fat-way of thinking, how nice it is to not be obsessed about body image, and to be able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.

Then, after a couple weeks, switch it up a notch. Take him out to dinner 2x a week, pre-order him a large burger with a side of fries, and don’t forget dessert. Buy larger plates so that he subconsciously eats more, stock the fridge up with cans of coke, and always leave snacks out. Gradually, you’ll notice your boyfriend getting lazier. He won’t object when you ask to get take-out for the 5 time in a week, or when you can’t be asked to go for a walk so just stay inside all day.

After the second month, cancel his gym membership. If he asks why, say you did it by accident when you called the bank, and that you’re really sorry. Buy him a large chocolate cake and a stack of donuts to apologise. Keep getting take out and leaving snacks around the house, keep bringing him breakfast in bed, and keep him preoccupied, so that his friends don’t start to comment on how lazy he’s getting. It takes dedication to be a feeder, but it’s worth it in the end.

Eventually, you’ll notice he’s gained some weight. His pants fit more snug than usual, his shirt stretches and clings to his love handles, his chin fat looks tight around his collar. Buy him bigger clothes. Buy him the biggest sizes you can find, and make sure they look identical to his last ones. It’s important that he doesn’t notice his weight gain, or at least, he doesn’t think he’s gained ‘that much.’ He needs to be under the impression that it’s just “puppy fat” and that he could lose it at any time if he wanted to.

But the thing is, he doesn’t. He secretly loves his chubby belly, his fat rolls stacked on his side, his wide hips and big butt, his cute fat pad and thick thighs. He’s constantly eating now, devouring all the snacks you’ve left around the house. When you get take-out, he encourages you to order more. When he wakes up, he yells at you to bring him breakfast. Everytime you come home, he’s always on the couch, playing video games, whilst eating several packets of chips.

Soon he’s totally succumbed to the feedee lifestyle. His belly spills out over his thighs, reaching his kneecaps. His arms look like rings of fat stacked on top of each other. He takes up the entire width of your couch. Your boyfriend has become obese, and he loves it. He loves when you play with his moobs, or when you squish and poke his big belly. He loves it when you squeeze his chubby arms and play with his back rolls. He worships his new body, and so do you. He was meant to be fat, he was meant to be unapologetically obese, you just helped him get there.

Share this to anyone who wants to get their partner into gaining! ⬇️⬇️⬇️