allfattenedup

Heavy in the front and heavy in the back 😫😫😫All this weight ..

Heavy in the front and heavy in the back 😫😫😫

All this weight I'm putting on is only half of what makes me flushed and moaning 24/7... the other half is where it's going 😫🥵

“Hey, good to see you!”Marley’s hug is light, quick. Friendl..

“Hey, good to see you!”

Marley’s hug is light, quick. Friendly. That ship sailed years ago and left me docked in the friend zone.

But it’s really not a bad zone. We’re a good group. The others make space for me at the brunch table. Marley moves over. All five of us go through the song and dance of how good everything looks, reading off the menu—acai bowls, toasted sandwiches, eggs benedict. A breeze drifts from the water, through the open door, across the back of my neck, and I swallow a burst of nostalgia for the life I’m still living. The colors are bright, the air is fresh, the people all look and speak and act normal. It’s surreal, and I feel out of place.

Because no one knows.

I’m good at this. I laugh, and I make them laugh. I get the eggs and a black coffee. I have gossip, ideas, plans, news. They’d never know I’m blinking against the sunlight after days and days of grease and sugar and tightly drawn curtains. They’d never know the hem of my shirt is covering an uncomfortably straining button. Or a waistband that’s pressing in painfully but that I wish, feverishly, would press in a little more.

And then hours later, I latch the front door of my apartment and my double life instantly rears its head. We went for a jog around the lake after brunch but I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to do that. The thought makes me hard—straining suddenly and urgently at my Dri-Fit running shorts.

In the shower, I feel all over my new belly as soap runs down my body in rivulets. It isn’t a belly. Not really, not yet. No one’s noticed—it’s barely noticeable even to me—but it’s more than I’ve ever had. Just knowing I’m really doing this is enough to have me frosting the shower tile in seconds. Shamefaced and exhilarated, I rinse the wall, and then the conditioner from my hair.

/ / /

I wander my apartment in a low-slung towel, drying in the slants of afternoon sun while I scroll through a delivery app. The anticipation is already beginning to bubble—so new yet already a well-established addiction. A secret which won’t be secret for much longer, whether I like it or not. I had barely five minutes of lucid thought—my brief gasp of post-nut clarity before thoughts of heavy hot sagging fat dragged me back under.

Pizza, tiramisu, bacon… I skip past anything green, looking for fried, for cheese, for sugar and fat. Bouncing hard on the balls of my feet, desperate to feel my little indiscretion jiggle, but there’s not enough of it yet. I choose a burger place, add to order, add to order, add to order, add to order. My cart blows out with excess, I know I shouldn’t be doing this. There’s a small voice shouting at me from somewhere above the water level, begging me to stop while I still can, but I’m too deep. Caution can’t reach me here. Place order. I wince at the subtotal but ignore it. There’s no dollar value I wouldn’t pay for my new body—the body of my dreams, the body of my nightmares. Money is the least of what I’m paying for this to happen.

It arrives in two straining bags, and I can’t even look the delivery guy in the eyes. The moment the door closes, I’m a whirlwind. Closet door open, mirror, chair. I bring a bottle of whole milk from the fridge, getting closer and closer to heavy cream every day. Trade the towel for underwear—not for modesty, but because they’re starting to dig in. I want to feel the shameful bite of a waistband that used to be loose. I groan as I lower myself to the chair, already aching. Clouds of hot salt and grease billow from the bags as I open them, smelling like obesity. Smelling like my addiction.

The first burger explodes satisfaction through my body. I get it down fast, too fast, just for the thrill of it, the excitement of being too greedy. I part my legs, longing for a soft, heavy gut to drop between them, but I use the longing as motivation—grabbing at the subtle new softness, shaking it roughly as I devour the second burger.

By the third, the smell is no longer inviting. The grease is off-putting. I’ve had enough, my stomach aches. I want to lie down, I want fresh air, water, anything but more food.

This is when the real work starts.

I unwrap the burger, trying not to look at it, trying not to breathe in. I close my eyes and build a mental image—a reminder of why I’m putting myself through this: a belly that fills up my lap. Dimpled, cellulite-coated thighs that rub and force me into a waddle. A fattened face, constantly flustered, cushioned by a lewd and wobbling double chin. My panic, my embarrassment, my thrill, my constant overwhelming obsession as clothing strains, stretch marks emerge, rolls thicken out, buttons burst, and people say, “Oh my God, is that you!?”

I devour the third burger in a few desperate bites.

/ / /

“Hey!”

It’s raining this Sunday for brunch, and the cafe we chose is quaint and old and a bit French, with large windows and planters filled with wildflowers. A mint green bike leans against a lamp post outside, the basket on the handlebars slowly filling up with water.

As I shake the raindrops from my umbrella outside the front door, I’m deeply aware of the intimate cling of my shirt to my rapidly forming new belly. I didn’t have to wear something this tight—I still have plenty of looser shirts. But something had happened to my mind over this month since our last brunch. Hiding away in my apartment and eating, and eating, and eating, and finally, inevitably, fattening had made my constant heady state of lust a difficult thing to shake.

Careful neutral smiles come across the faces of everyone at the table… or maybe I’m just imagining it. There’s no real way to tell a convincing fake smile from a real one, especially when 80% of my brain capacity is stuck on the feeling of the cold buckle lovingly nestled beneath fresh fat plumping over my belt. It’s electric in its newness. I twist to put my umbrella in the stand by the door. My t-shirt pulls, smacking with audacity. It clutches my tender new gut, my erogenous zone, publicly.

This is going to be the world’s longest brunch.

/ / /

The mascarpone pancakes are still heavy in my belly when I take the long way back to my car. There’s a chicken shop nearby, and I’m full, but that’s no reason to get complacent.

The moment I’m around the corner and I’m sure I’m out of sight, I relax my belly over my waistband. My spine hisses, my belt groans, but my abdominal muscles breathe a sigh of relief. It had been impossible to suck all the way in, especially after a daringly large brunch, but even holding my new gut part way in had felt like an hour-long plank. It had been the real looks, the curious eyes, and actually being like this in front of people I know which had tempered my courage a bit. At least enough to attempt as much difficult sucking in as I could manage. 

But the thrill of being noticeably fat in public is still new and hot and burning, and without the limiting presence of my friends I’m instantly overcome by the tidal wave that’s been pulling me under so often lately. I make a subtle adjustment, pulling my belt below my stomach, making sure the whole thing’s pushing over, nice and vulnerable. The wobble that follows each footfall diverts so much oxygen away from my brain I can’t think. I push my stomach out, feeling thin fabric stretch too obviously across sensitive skin. Sensitive fat. My belly is so tenderly on fire that I can feel the cold leather of my belt nudging at the underside. The only thing that keeps me from coming right there is the thought of buying a second meal to force into my already pancake-heavy stomach.

The shop is a small hole-in-the-wall, and at 1:30pm it’s just opening and empty of other customers. I step inside, willing my flush to disappear for just long enough to order a few thousand more calories, but my face throbs, my head spins, and it doesn’t stop.

“Hi…” I swallow, autopilot taking me at least part-way towards acceptable as the guy behind the counter wipes his hands on a towel and comes over to take my order. Talking to someone, the outwards strain of my belly feels much too provocative, but the saboteur in me won’t let me suck it in. I vaguely fantasize about trying to rest it on the counter, but that thought rages through me with such violent potency that I force the idea from my mind and my eyes up to the menu.

It’s not really big enough to rest on counters yet, anyway. That’s why I still have so much work to do.

The words almost don’t look English—all I can think about is the six inches in front of me which used to be filled with nothing and is now filled with belly. I shouldn’t have worn this shirt. The second I get home and nut and get that brief breath of clarity I’ll realize how inappropriate it was, how far too tight, how wrong—

“I’ll get a chicken burger,” I blurt, face so hot my eyes blur. “12 pack chicken tenders. Large fries. Large oreo shake. Uh… thanks.”

I tap my card then flee to wait by the wall, out of the way, uncomfortably half mast and trying to look normal. High up on my cheeks, a flush is burning, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. I desperately want to see myself from the outside, and at the same time, wouldn’t dare to look even if I could. Every jiggle is ultra-conspicuous, too new and exciting to be overlooked, but I’m starting to get so overstimulated it could pass for madness. I make myself breathe slowly, focusing on the parquet floor, trying to calm down…

But I don’t want to calm down.

If I do, I might just realize what I’m doing. One of those cold flashes of clarity might just last a little too long and convince me to stop doing this to myself. I might come up for air and decide that there’s a little too much nightmare in this dream state, and lose my taste for this hot, dizzying shame.


“Can you make that a 24 pack?” I call out before I have time to think. The key is not to think, I decide. My cheeks pulse, a tremble of excitement in my jaw. “Thanks.”

[to be continued...]

I'm loving my low stomach 😩😩 This heavy pig belly keep growi..

I'm loving my low stomach 😩😩 This heavy pig belly keep growing lower and lower. I'm obsessed with the feeling of it settling heavily between my legs, feeling the sides of it against the sensitive clouds of fat that I now have as inner thighs. Also... I don't want to get my hopes up, because I don't stretchmark easily, but it's looking like I might be getting the start of some on my belly 🫣🥵 I've always wanted belly stretch marks so bad. Please send stretchmarking thoughts my way 🥵

Do you have any idea how good getting fat must feel? We give..

Do you have any idea how good getting fat must feel? We give up our fitness, our conventional attractiveness - on purpose. We go to great effort and great expense to forcibly un-sculpt our bodies. We make ourselves uncomfortable - physically and otherwise. We enter into this knowing it won’t be easy. As our reflections begin to change, we manage the thrill - suppressing it just enough so it won’t scare us back to the straight sizes but not so much we cant still be high on it 24/7. As our skin begins to stretchmark, we tremble at the terrifying permanence of this. As our bellies begin to hang, as thick double chins settle in, we grapple with the unavoidable fact that this delicious, shameful little kink can't be kept to the bedroom. We walk around, bulging with fresh tender fat like it's the most illicit act imaginable. A heavy belly rubbing against the clinging front of a tight tshirt feels like public indecency. And yet we eat and eat and eat - the changes speed up, grow more intense, the fluster intensifies. We're mortified, panicked, exhilarated, and everything in between. We're overcome by the strain of obesity, by the thunder of a heart that cant decide between excitement and horror, coated in thick, thick, thickening fat. And eating, eating, eating, because nothing feels as hot as growing fat.

The club is a haze-filled, neon-soaked place where the bass ..

The club is a haze-filled, neon-soaked place where the bass pounds through the walls. You move between the shoulders of mostly strangers, and a few friends, in a heady kind of half-asleep sleeplessness.

Until you look across the floor and see him.

For the first moment, its as if you must be dreaming. You've never seen anyone in your life like the man sitting on the plush bench on the other side of the dance floor. He's... fat. Provocatively so - and his crop top says as much, emblazoned with the sinful word in large block lettering. He's not the fattest man you've ever seen - not by weight, anyway. But if fatness could be measured by sheer audacity, he'd hold the record by a mile. He aches of obesity. His body strains with it.

Beneath the crop, a black mesh tank strains across the top part of his belly, the rest of it left hanging in an exposed, greedy flop. His thighs are big clouds of fat and cellulite, dimpled and spreading, surprisingly bottom heavy and completely exposed in a tiny pair of stretchy black shorts. The blacklight sweeps, illuminating a shock of jagged stretchmarks clawing up his softly billowing hips.

Shoulders shove around you as you forget to dance.

- to be continued? -

I wrote this little piece and then felt inspired to make a video of it. Let me know if you guys like this and I'll keep writing it!

People ask a lot what I look like in public or in "normal" c..

People ask a lot what I look like in public or in "normal" clothes. The truth is, I do wear pretty tight clothes out in public often, but not always, so I thought I'd show you what I look like in one of my more conservative outfits. This is the type of thing that I'd wear to lunch with friends or something like that, when it's not the right time to be too obscene with my body. I love how the shirt clings around my gut even though it's not tight. I sometimes feel like these type of clothes make me look even fatter. My friends are so polite and have never shamed me for putting on so much weight, but I can see it in their eyes when I adjust in my seat and my belly bounces, or presses up against the table. There was definitely a lot of surreptitious glances when my double chin started growing in. Would you wanna see more of what I look like wearing more normal clothes?

A snowballing addiction to fat and pleasure and embarrassmen..

A snowballing addiction to fat and pleasure and embarrassment can do terrible things to a body 🥵😮‍💨🥵😮‍💨 These rolls stacking up at my sides... god, I still remember how it feels to be long and lean. I'm so embarrassed by my thighs, my hips, my ass... absolutely piggish, dimpled fat, blobs of deep cellulite on my body that was once so ideal. I've managed to grow my belly into such a tender, heavy hang but oh my fucking god, I need more. 🥵

**S'mores Stuffing | December 2022** I ate so many s'mores ..

**S'mores Stuffing | December 2022**

I ate so many s'mores making this video! I could practically feel the weight piling on. 🥵😫 My belly's been feeling really plush and low lately, and it's driving me absolutely wild.

I haven't done much messy eating content in the past but I know a lot of people really like it so I tried it for this one and I actually... loved it. Oh my god, the way having my big gut covered in chocolate and bits of graham cracker made me feel so much more piggish and obese... I was blushing the whole time!

Well, Merry Christmas everyone! 🎄 This has been an incredibly hot year for me and I hope you've enjoyed it, too. And I'd love to know if you think I look fatter than I did in last year's Christmas video! 😮‍💨🥵

I've long outgrown this shirt, but sometimes I still just ne..

I've long outgrown this shirt, but sometimes I still just need to check.

How much more of my fat stomach heaves out between the buttons that won't close? How much tighter does it cling to my trembling obese hips? I have to check to see if it still pulls all the way down, and how much more work I'll need to put in before it rolls up over my blubbery love handles even with the buttons pulled far apart. I love the feeling of my doughy pig belly flopping over the lowest button but how much more weight will I need to put on until even that one is impossible to close? The way the sleeves are tightning much slower than the rest of it shows me without a doubt that I really am widening into a mortifying pear. This exploration was delicious, embarrassing, and I relished every second of it. I hope you do too.

All Soaped UpI'm so excited to post one of the most sensual ..

All Soaped Up

I'm so excited to post one of the most sensual videos I've ever made. I've lost count of how many time I had to stop and enjoy myself while I was filming this, watching back the footage, editing this... it's still hard to truly process that this is me now. This is my body. Fat and wobbling, swollen into a whole new shape. There's nothing left of the body I used to have... except maybe my hands. But that only makes it hotter in a way. The one last recognizable part of my appearance, grabbing all over the wreckage I've made of the rest of me.

The feeling of my belly slipping from my hands and falling against my thighs is like nothing I ever thought I'd experience before I started... doing this to myself. 🥵 The feeling of soap and water tracing the gut I've grown, running in rivulets over the heavy dense wobbling fat, dripping off the bottom of my pendulous hang. I need this. I need more. Let's make sure next time I make a shower video, it'll just be me struggling to fit through the door. 😫🥵

A little bonus from a video I took while filming Jiggle Bell..

A little bonus from a video I took while filming Jiggle Bells 😉 Love how loose and heavy my hang looks here. Exactly how it felt.

**Jiggle Bells | December 2021** *On the first day of Chris..

**Jiggle Bells | December 2021**

*On the first day of Christmas, I'm bringing out my 2021 Christmas video... I really thought I was so fat then. And I was, but it's nothing compared to now 🥵. This is part one of counting down my Christmas videos from the start of my weight gain journey to the present*

Happy Holidays everyone! It's the most fattening time of year, and I think it's starting to show on my body... 😰🥵

I got so worked up exploring all my rolls, stuffing myself with milk and cookies, and trying to decorate my tree. I didn't actually realise how much fatter I've gotten until I watched some of these shots back. But it feels so good to be a soft, heavy fatty, especially around the holidays... 😉🎄❄️

Everything's turning out deliciously thick 🥵 My rolls are bu..

Everything's turning out deliciously thick 🥵 My rolls are bunching up at my back, I can feel them rubbing and jiggling all the fucking time. My biceps are completely gone, and now my upper arms are just heavy and soft with the thick dough that I grew from eating and eating and *eating*. And my BELLY. Goddd. 😩😮‍💨 It feels so fucking good and so fucking humiliating, you can see how much it's pushing and straining and drooping down low. My double chin is thickening so nicely, I'm delighted by how embarrassing it looks. I love my ruined body 🥵🥵 How about you? What do you guys think?

[This was previously posted on my Patreon but I know not eve..

[This was previously posted on my Patreon but I know not everyone came from there and you deserve to have it too! This has been one of my most popular videos.]

🎃🦇 A Halloween Horror 🦇🎃

When an attractive guy takes a risky weight gain potion on Halloween night, he thinks it'll just make him a bit thick. He knows he has a great body, but he can't deny his fantasies of thickening up anymore, so he ignores the calls from his best friend desperately trying to stop him from going through with it, and takes the potion.

All of the potion.

And that's the first thing that goes horribly, horribly wrong.

As he gains weight uncontrollably, far beyond what he ever wanted, he's caught between horror and ecstasy, spiralling into a night of erotic transformation which will leave him changed forever.

Note: I filmed the clips for this video across the span of about 10 months, so most of the weight gain you see here is actually real. But although this video has a lot of treats, it also contains some tricks. Don't believe everything you see. Some padding and other trickery has been used to enhance the storytelling. 🦇🎃 Happy Halloween, I feel obese. 🥵

I used to look so good in a suit. I still remember what it f..

I used to look so good in a suit. I still remember what it feels like to tuck in my shirt with no resistance and have it cling to my body in a way that's nothing but aesthetic.

But I have to say, it feels so much hotter to have to stretch the buttons around a heavy, drooping gut. Not better, exactly. But hotter. A stomach that gets in the way, that needs to be lifted. An overhang which shows, obvious and humiliating, no matter what. Impossible to hide. I'm way too fat to hide it now. I went up and up and up in sizes until I finally had a suitable shirt that doesn't pull and strain and look utterly provocative, and I still look shockingly obese.

A few more shots from my celebratory 7,000 calorie stuffing ..

A few more shots from my celebratory 7,000 calorie stuffing 😵🥵 I can’t believe I did this to myself! Look at me! I look so fat, you can really see how heavy and sloppy my belly has become. Hanging into my lap, ooof and pressing up against my bowl. Fuck that felt hot.

I'm gonna need to start filming my videos further back, I'm ..

I'm gonna need to start filming my videos further back, I'm growing too obese for the frame 🥵 You can see how flustered it makes me.

*Desperation | Weight Gain Story* It didn’t even start with..

*Desperation | Weight Gain Story*

It didn’t even start with a craving.

More a whim, really. The passing, innocent thought that some chocolate would really go nicely with my morning coffee. The morning coffee that I’m taking black, that’s supposed to hold me over until at least lunch, if not dinner. I’ve been eating too much, getting too big. My body’s changing fast and I’m beginning to scare myself.

I grip my mug, trying to hold on to the new me, the responsible me. The me that’s going to see myself fit back into my 30 inch jeans and put this whole surreal weight gain fever dream far behind me.

But all it really takes is a whim, these days.

And then I’m raiding my fridge, finding crackers and dip left over from a wine and cheese night. The memory of how my buttons had pulled, how my friends had tried not to stare, only makes me shove the crackers in faster. *No, no, no!* I take the box back to the couch, barely even tasting it. What started as a thought of a pleasurable marriage of flavors has turned into the mechanical, tasteless shovelling down of anything I can find. My morning coffee sits abandoned. Because it’s not the *food* that I want. Not really.

I catch sight of myself in the black screen of the television, and what used to be an automatic horror response makes my back arch off the couch cushions as a euphoric shudder trembles through me. I see my face crumple in bliss.

The crackers are gone. It’s not enough. I’ve started now, and this has happened enough times for me to know it’s a runaway train. I know I’ll wake up tomorrow morning, flopped on my side with my belly heavy against the sheets, and feel regret. Come slightly closer to realizing the lie I tell myself about getting back on track is just that — fiction. Lay there, caressing my fat and bloated stomach, pondering the deep, frightening knowledge that my body is out of control and I’m inevitably going to become much fatter than I want to be. I’m *already* fatter than I want to be — on one hand, at least. But on the other…

I push myself off the couch, biting my lip roughly at how difficult that’s becoming, and let my stomach bounce as I rush to put on some clothes. I choose ones too small on purpose. I’m already awash with heady, hazy thrill, a pleasure so thick my inhibitions can hide behind. Pants buttoned tightly under my hanging belly? Snug t-shirt clinging to my vulnerable fat? Fuck yes. I’m in a whirlwind. I can’t think straight, and just as well. If I could, I’d *never* step outside looking like this.

Emerging into the bright supermarket with all its normal people makes me feel like I’m high in church. Harboring a taboo secret which itself renders me incapable of knowing whether I’m slipping by or looking obvious. Pulses of electricity from all my wobbling erogenous zones shiver straight up to my brain, keeping my head in a spin. My eyes dart around. I feel so exposed. Every soft wobble feels a thousand times more noticeable. I resist the urge to suck my stomach in, so overcome by the thrill of what I feel like, what I must look like, that I don’t even see what I’m putting into my cart. I check out and waddle back home, fabric tight against my body. Heart pounding, cheeks flushed.

The moment my apartment door closes behind me, I become insatiable. The shred of propriety I still have barely got me through my trip into the outside world, but now in private, I’m unleashed. I upend the shopping back onto my couch and plop amongst it, letting my shirt slide up, my bottom push back, my stomach drop between my thighs.

Fuck, I’m fat. *Obese, blubbery… ruined.* Words tumble from my mouth as I rip open packages and feed myself fattening cakes, chocolates, pastries, the other hand palming at my belly, gasping as the bottom of it wobbles against the couch cushion, the sides pressing plush against my soft thighs, pushing them apart. Bite after bite after bite. I’m obscene. I feel high, handfuls of fat pushing me close to the edge. I empty packages so fast that they’re finished before I’ve even registered what they are. Because I don’t want the food.

I want the *fat.*

That heavy, quivering substance that’s making me *doughy*, that’s making me *different*. That’s blanketing me so fast I know people are worried. I know they don’t know what’s happening to me. Well, neither do I.

My belly swells, heavy. I cry out from the size of it, my voice laced with pain and pleasure. Regret, and desperation for more. Pressure begins to build within me, and I don’t want to come, because that means this frenzy will be over… for about thirty minutes, anyway. But I can’t keep myself from chasing the peak, it’s too sweet, too addictive. One hand forces food into my mouth, the other takes desperate handfuls of the stomach I grew for this very purpose. It hangs down between my legs and I lift it up, drop it. Lift it up, drop it. I rub the crest, the underneath, toy with the soft, bulging rolls that have formed down my sides, hold it in both hands and think about how it’s all just *blubber*… and that’s what does it.

Electricity sends me rigid, my neck snaps back, a long, guttural gasp that looks like a scream, and in a moment of lucidity as time becomes incalculable, I *feel* the size of my obese body. The reality of what I’ve turned myself into.

It’s terrifying. I want more.

So when the last of the spasms pass and I collapse against the back of the couch, panting, boneless in the satisfied, disoriented aftermath, I slowly push more food past my lips, and chew.

I want to be a cautionary tale. If you've followed me for a ..

I want to be a cautionary tale.

If you've followed me for a while, you know what's happened to me. What I've done to myself, and why. I want the story to be whispered amongst potential gainers - sleek and rakish, with jawlines to ruin, tempted by a dark and aching fantasy just like I was. I want them to look at me and think how horrifying it would be for their bodies to swell like mine has, and for that thought to erupt an insatiable need to have exactly that - contradictory and confusing, but desperate.

There's nothing I love more than the warm, uncomfortable hef..

There's nothing I love more than the warm, uncomfortable heft of my belly in my lap, or feeling the thickening rolls bunching up at my sides, or the brush of my fat arms against my fat widening hips, or the thrill of horror when I look in the mirror, or the embarrassment of getting dressed into a tight outfit, or the vulnerability of my whole stomach hanging over the waistband of my pants, or tenderly soothing the straining ache of another day spent fattening myself. Fuck, I just can't get enough *fat!*

This is a pretty standard UberEats order for me. I like to g..

This is a pretty standard UberEats order for me. I like to get a variety of things. It's why I usually don't order just one big thing like a pizza, because I get FOMO if I don't get to eat all different kinds of things every meal 🤣 I ALWAYS have to get fries though. And then just whatever else looks good. I love the way my side and back rolls stack and rub against each other 😫 It makes me feel so so so SO fat. My stomach's getting so big. I'm getting so desperate for more. 🥵

✅ A belly that hangs between my thighs✅ A thickening double ..

✅ A belly that hangs between my thighs
✅ A thickening double chin
✅ Needing to place my hand against the side of my stomach when I shift my weight to keep it steady
✅ Thick fatty thighs ribboned with cellulite
✅ A wide heavy ass
✅ The start of a waddle
✅ A desperate addiction to growing fatter

2024 is going great 🥵 I'm being swallowed up by obesity and I can't stop

Everyone keeps saying I'm turning into a real fat pear, and ..

Everyone keeps saying I'm turning into a real fat pear, and you're right. 🍐 It's a shock, I didn't expect my body to develop this way. I'm not gonna lie, I kind of hated it at first. It was vulnerable and embarrassing in a way that I hadn't really prepared for, and it was the first time I properly realized that even if I'm doing this to myself on purpose, it really is still out of my control.

But now? As with everything else that's happened to my poor, wrecked body as a result of this kink, I'm obsessed with it. I don't know if I can say that I love it, but it's as close to loving it as I can get while still getting off on how embarrassing it is. The cellulite is insane. My tight little ass cheeks have become these two heavy fatty globes, deep with dimples and grossly swollen in a way that's frighteningly irreversible. I wonder if one day I'll regret forcing my lean, aesthetic figure to change into this mortifying bulge of fatty rolls? And I wonder how hard that thought will make me cum. 🥵🐷🍐

**All Fat Now | May 2024 Weight Gain Film** Don't let the t..

**All Fat Now | May 2024 Weight Gain Film**

Don't let the title fool you — it's not meant to imply I'm done gaining weight (as if I could even stop 🥵) . I totally get if you wanna watch this one on mute if it's too early-90s music video for you, but let me tell you what I was going for.

There's something so surreal about changing your body, especially changing it this much. Especially changing it in a way that changes SO much else about you — the way people see you, where you can shop, what you can do, what and how much you eat, what you think about, struggles you have, everything! It really is a full-body full-life head to toe transformation and that always makes me so incredibly flustered. Not to mention how fucking voluptuous I've become — like what the fuck??? 😩 Its like my body knows I want to blush and blush hard, and it said "I gotchu bro" and grew into the most embarrassing fat shape that would have me moaning from morning til night.

So I look at myself sometimes and I just go... holy fuck. Like... this was meant to be a fantasy. I was always into this but it was always meant to be just a fantasy and now look at me. Look at what I've done to the body I always took such pride in. Look how my vanity aches under the weight of my sagging belly. Look how it begs to ache harder. I explore myself a lot. I can't keep my hands off all this fat. I have to wobble, I have to smack, I have to take handfuls and think about just what I've done. It's a celebration... but it's not like any celebration you've ever seen before.

ALSO: I often film these a bit in advance because I don't wanna have to rush the editing, so I filmed this like a month or two ago and good god I feel like I'm noticeably fatter already 🥵

**Ruined Body, Ruined Clothes | January 2022** *archive pos..

**Ruined Body, Ruined Clothes | January 2022**

*archive post — the below is the original text*

I'm definitely feeling the 'new year new me' vibes... but maybe not quite the same as most people. 🥵 I feel like I say this every month, but shooting this was so hot! Feeling my soft body ballooning against seams, buttons, tight fabric, until they just can't contain it anymore... ooooof. I am blowing up. And I really meant it when I said that I'm not planning on getting as big as before but for now, oh my god it's so fucking hot to be doing this to myself again.

One of the most requested videos I get is tight clothes/button pop/seam rip, so I thought what better way to start the new year than with that. Especially after the NYE wardrobe 'mishap' that many of you saw on my Tumblr. 😫I had these grand ideas of doing all this visual symmetry with exploding buttons mirroring exploding NYE fireworks, but whatever - I know you guys are here for the fat more than the aesthetic! 😉

*(2023 post)* It feels so good to be like this 😮‍💨😫 It make..

*(2023 post)*

It feels so good to be like this 😮‍💨😫 It makes my face flush and my heart pound. It makes me want to show off and hide at the same time. But mostly it makes me want more 🥵 More of everything. I’ve gotten so greedy. All I care about these days is getting this heavy piggish belly to rest on the seat of the chair beneath my cottage cheese thighs and moan about what I’ve done to myself 😫😫😫

You can really tell that I filmed this before my calorie dri..

You can really tell that I filmed this before my calorie drive 🥵 I can't stop obsessing over how intensely weight gain has changed my body and keeps changing it more and more, fatter and fatter. Still, really had the makings of a nice fat hang and it's only getting lower and heavier. And yes, I had just eaten a whole box of chocolates 😩😮‍💨

Everything's getting so heavy - belly, thighs, rolls, hips, ..

Everything's getting so heavy - belly, thighs, rolls, hips, ass. I've invested in some support for this heavy dumptruck I'm growing, but it isn't strong enough. The strap just sinks into the fat 😩

**DAY THREE HIGHLIGHTS** Here it is! 🥵 A long video, over 1..

**DAY THREE HIGHLIGHTS**

Here it is! 🥵 A long video, over 15 minutes, of my day 3 stuffing from last month's calorie drive. Sorry it took a while, I wiped my computer and didn't lose the files but did lose the edit file and had to start editing it together again. So to make up for the delay, I wanted to make this video a little longer. I'm *obsessed* with how fat I am here. This was a really intense experience, and I can't stop staring at my double chin and fat face!! And my belly hang! 😵🥵😩

*This was a post from 2022 that I moved over from my old Pat..

*This was a post from 2022 that I moved over from my old Patreon. Someone had commented on it "You're not struggling nearly enough if you ask me. 😈" and honestly, he was right and I think he'd be much more pleased with the condition I'm in now 🥵*

Be honest… do you like to see me struggle? Do you like to hear how loudly my couch creaks and my little grunts of effort when I used to move so easily? (Oh yes… sound on)

Do you like knowing that what I’m doing to myself out of pleasure and desperation is making me heavier and slower? Making things more difficult for me?

I’ll be honest if you are. And I… kind of like it 🥵