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I'm going away for the weekend with my boyfriend/feeder to celebrate my birthday with a lot of cream and fattening treats! Expect a lot of pictures and videos of me eating until then, here's the dress I wore to my party... I wonder if anyone noticed that my belly and love handles were sticking out the whole time xo (I know they're not the best quality, I had to crop my family and friends out of the pictures which reduced the quality)

I’m squeezing into this corset

FINALLY! NEW Update! I have a Curvage approved video for yall! I am sorry it took so long. I thought this was a really fun concept. I hope yall like it...LOTS of Screenshots... Spying On Piggy StepSister Snapping Her Feeder Just waiting for approval!

So I’m a big fan of Justine. Not only is she gorgeous but she loves showing off her beautiful curves. Is it just me or has she put on a little weight recently ? I love when girls do that 😁

Damn....demi got real fat

Just a few 📸

Tonight’s snack 😏

Have you seen my latest picture? Let me know what you think and what you would like to see more of 😘

I love finding tiny clothes in storage! So I decided to make a new video trying on different sizes of jeans. Nothing is sexier than seeing how much fatter I've gotten!

That belly and Double Chin

It's not just the boobs, the girl is in Milano tonight, and she looks thick af.

Good Afteroon My Curvage Family....I need someone to come rub my belly...pretty please?

Shes the biggest

Mmm so gloriously fat today! Sooo full but i couldnt help but have a few more..

@Desdinova @Drytuner @Ender @Mannton @whatareyoudoing: I definitely would have joined in! But there always has to be a party pooper, hm...? @jb Concerning that weight gain: Reading her instagram, she just started and considers the process to take months. Looking at the pics, she has a looooong way to go...

stop

That is one lucky woman she's sitting on

Well-it is time for a little bit to revive this group a new portion of unforgettable pictures.Looking at them makes me want to sit down to the drawing-maybe soon will do so…

Softer...

So my girlfriend gained 20 pounds in 3 weeks from a new medication, and another 5 pounds in the 2 weeks since she switched to a med without the weight gain side effect. She’s always been thin (130 5’4”) and obsessed over her weight. She talks about how much she hates the weight and how she plans on losing it, but she never actually does anything to try and lose it. She’s started finishing meals (and sometimes even gettin seconds), snacking all the time, and doesn’t exercise nearly as much as she used to. As much as she talks about hating the weight (and as genuine as she seems) her actions make her look complacent at best. She knows I don’t mind the weight, but has no idea I’m actually into it. As much as she seems to hate it, I’m not sure telling her how I feel is a great idea.

New Photo post via Twitter/Instagram. Caption: "#C2e2 Having a blast as the Great Fairy Mija from Breath Of The Wild! #greatfairycosplay #breathofthewildcosplay"

Well i guess its a happy Rusev day every day for Lana so to speak with a celebratory dessert.

She keeps a good shape

Her Instagram story today is magnificent. Get on that.

“How much further?” Chiara’s voice was strained and she was panting. “Two minutes at my pace,” I answered. “Five at yours,” I added, as an afterthought. We had gotten up around 7:00am and had obviously skipped breakfast, in view of the eating contest. I could easily manage a few hours without eating, but Chiara had been ravenous after a sleepless night and had tried to bite my hand off at the wrist. Luckily I had pulled back in time to avoid serious injury, but I had kept my distance from her for a few minutes. She had donned her matching blouse and skirt. I remember how loose they were only two months earlier, now they were tight on her massive jugs and hefty rump respectively, so tight that they were almost transparent and her purple bikini (top and bottom) was visible through the fabric. Her belly was a totally different matter: even after a twenty-four hour forced fast, it stuck out past her massive breasts, quivering with every step. Shirt and skirt failed to meet at her navel and an inch of tan skin was visible. Chiara was hot, not just metaphorically because she was to me a walking orgasm, but also literally, as the pounds of blubber accumulated during months of non-stop eating were making her sweat like a pig. Her hair, initially done in a bun, was disheveled and her clothes were soaked. It was a very warm early Summer day and the sun was shining up in the sky, even though it was only 8:00. We were climbing the boulevard on the hill south of the city, headed to Piazzale Michelangelo, where the contest would be held. “Let me get a rest,” Chiara pleaded, leaning on a tree beside the road. She wiped the sweat from her head with a hand, using the other to caress her growling gut. “I feel drained.” “You are carrying a lighter load than you’re used to,” I reasoned. “Why can’t you make it?” “Cars don’t run with an empty tank.” She patted her flabby stomach. “I’m exhausted.” “Come on, come on!” I moved a step towards her and grabbed her chubby wrist. “Here, let me help!” We resumed our walking. Chiara was not resisting, but she had grown so heavy that I could barely pull her. When we got at the top of the hill, I was drenched in sweat, too. I let go of her arm and arched my back, moaning when my spine popped back into place. The landscape of Florence was wonderful, seen from high above, but our attention was drawn elsewhere. Right beneath the statue of David, there was a stage with a dozen chairs and a long table. People were gathering around and a middle-aged man in a striped shirt was on it, testing a microphone. I pointed it out for Chiara. She nodded and made her way towards the stage, a determined look in her eyes and her meaty fists clenched. I marched beside her, somewhat tense myself, and examined the scene. A smaller group of people was gathered by a nearby booth; they were easily told apart because they were huge: the least fearsome was a teenage kid around 200 pounds, the others were all bigger. Suddenly I realized that Chiara was the only woman; if she had any doubt, clearly she did not show it, as she went straight to them. She looked puny beside those behemoths, standing barely 5’6’’, yet they all seemed to be aware of her presence and stepped aside to let her pass. She chatted with the man in the booth, listened to his answer, then shrugged and beckoned me closer. I rushed towards her, my legs unsteady. “What do you need?” “That guy said there’s an entry fee of 25€.” She pointed with her thick thumb at the man in the booth behind her. “I got no pockets here,” she added, patting her chunky thighs. “Take care of that, ‘cause I’m starving.” I retrieved my wallet, thinking how it had gotten thinner, just to make Chiara fatter, and approached the booth. “I’d like to pay for my friend,” I said, handing the clerk a fifty euros note. It was my last banknote. The man took the money, gave me my change and motioned Chiara towards the stage; she climbed the four steps and the other contestants followed in an admirable display of chivalry. There were seven of them, but they probably weighed as much as ten or eleven grown men. Was it my imagination or was the wooden frame creaking under their steps? I shrugged and joined the crowd, ready to watch the show. But first, I had to check the “competition”. Aside from Chiara and the fat kid, there was a short man with massive muscles and a thin mustache, wearing a leopard skin. Another was a tall, lanky guy in a sweatsuit who must have stood at least 6’6’’: his hair and beard were both red and closely cropped. Then there was a guy in ripped jeans and combat boots, whose Metallica t-shirt was stretched over the biggest beer belly I had ever seen: it was so massive that he had to spread apart his legs even when standing. He had long, greasy hair and a bushy beard. Next to him stood a nerdy guy, with a stained shirt unbuttoned over an equally stained tank top; his glasses were askew and I doubt that he could see anything through such greasy lenses. He slouched even when standing, but his flabby torso was probably ready to expand, given the right amount of junk food. The sixth in line, getting on the stage right after Chiara, was a massive man in his forties: I guessed he stood about six feet even and was roughly a hundred pounds heavier than Chiara. He was broad-shouldered with massive arms, tree trunk thighs and a belly that looked both round and hard. His gray hair sported a buzztop haircut and his beard was neatly trimmed, curving around a benign smile; he looked as friendly as a bear ready to pounce. I decided that he and the metal-head were the most fearsome opponents. The man with the striped shirt stuck the mic under his armpit and rolled up his sleeves: he was sweating, too. Then he retrieved his microphone and moved towards the front of the stage. “Signore e signori, welcome to our annual eating contest!” His nasal voice blared from a pair of loudspeakers. He gestured with his free hand towards the crowd and we granted him a small applause. He smiled. “Ok, let’s introduce our valorous contestants!” A sweeping gesture encompassed Chiara and the other six. “Seven proud men who…” “I beg to differ” Chiara’s voice rang louder than the loudspeakers. The crowd laughed. The man pivoted on his feet and squinted at the contestant. “What? What is that?” Bear man moved to the side and Chiara stepped forward, smiling. “I don’t think we’re ‘seven men’, as you say.” She made a mocking curtsy. “Last time I checked, I was a woman.” The guy with the microphone was clearly dumbfounded. I guess he had not expected a girl to take part in the competition. “Well,” he stammered. “I'm not quite sure that...” “...That I'm a girl?” Another laugh shook the audience. “Wanna check?” Chiara hefted her massive boobs and let them fall back. They jiggled for a few seconds, as the crowd roared louder. “I mean...” The guy regained control soon enough. “I mean, I am not quite sure you should participate.” He gestured towards the rocker. “We have real heavyweights and you are...” He looked at her, taking a step forward. “Well, clearly you are no featherweight, but...” “Is there any rule that forbids me from taking part?” “Not to my knowledge.” The bear man stepped forward, the stage creaking beneath his feet. “So let her play! She is just a skinny little runt: what harm could she do?” He patted Chiara on the back, making her stagger forward. For a second I feared that her heavy tits would drag her off balance down onto the crowd, in a murderous stage dive, but she regained her balance. “Watch what you’re doing,” she shouted back at him. He threw back his head and laughed. “Asshole!” Chiara pushed him square in the chest, but he would not budge an inch. “Calm down, calm down.” The man with the microphone stepped between them. Then he turned to the crowd. “Ok, let’s just get ready to start!”

Well, my perspective is: A qualified "no," for various reasons, though I don't find this "moral quandary" issue to be nearly as fascinating as many others seem to, which leads directly into... A mere few topics below this new one that you have created, there already exists a lengthy thread about this exact issue.

Open your eyes.

No escape from reality?

And she's also tat free!

Enjoy. Sincerely, Chapman. Founder, Raiza Costa Obsessive Fan Club

No Makeup

Hey all! Here's a little update of me from a year ago vs. me today wearing the same thing / in the same poses. Looks like I've grown from a year ago after all!