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Showing results for tags 'acceptance'.
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Retirement Sale Originally $5.99 Now $4.00 Late one night when your parents are out you catch your kinda fat stepsister sneaking food, she is such a greedy hog! Your parents have her on a diet since she can't keep her hands off food. When she first spots you she's taken back, she's in just her underwear and a tiny top. You aren't supposed to see stepsisters so near naked. She tells you to mind your own business about her diet and go back to bed. Eventually, you find out she's pretty sad, and like always emotionally eating. You find out that some other people at school were making fun of her for being fat and eating like a pig. It's true, but you play it off letting her know you think she's pretty cute. She knows you two shouldn't be flirting but she can't help it, she isn't used to finding guys that like fat girls. She even convinces you to feed her! As she chugs her carbonated drink she starts burping. Eventually, as things progress she decides to show you her belly and dig into the kitchen for more food! She finds a cake that your mom made and plows through it. She's so fat and cares less about what your parents think of her ballooning weight. Your stepsister quickly realizes it's you that have been fattening her! An unlikely ally is now in her corner and will help feed her! She even gets on all fours shakes her booty for you and shows you her massive belly hang. All of a sudden you both hear a noise, someone is coming! She struggles to get off the ground and waddles away, you didn't get caught......this time. But now that she knows your fattening her there might be a few more late-night stepbrother and step-sister feedings. After all see needs you to sneak her food! 💖💖💖💖 Clip features: taboo subject, pov, fattening stepsister, belly play, eating, weight gain denial and acceptance, burping$4
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- fatty freya
- step sister
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I was thinking long and hard about this after I ate with a friend I hadn't met in a while. She always knew me as thin. She's a bit on the plus side. And I had gained a lot of weight throughout that time. I was a bit worried that she was going to start becoming turned off by my new size. She was the one who suggested we go to an all-you-can-eat buffet. I was very hungry (as always) so I agreed wholeheartedly. I had forgotten about my worry about her seeing as I was chunky. After the meal, which took over 2 hours. I ate a lot. She herself ate enough that the restaurant had to offer. Outside of the restaurant, I felt elated that I ate that much and so I thanked her for suggesting the idea of a buffet. Then she said, "I can tell you liked it." She then patted my stomach lightly and laughed a little. I realized my jeans had popped open at some point and my belly was oozing out, I was a bit fatter because of all the food I had eaten and I felt a bit embarrassed. I had forgotten throughout our meeting that I was fat now. But she said it's OK. She said I was never going to be thin forever. We all love food and people can count calories and work out as much as they like but they will never be perfect because no one is. She also added that she knew I would gain weight one of these days, that it suited me and I shouldn't care what people think. Besides she added, chances are most people in this country, if not all. are going to be either on the level of chunky, fat, overweight or obese. That night I went to bed thinking what she had said. There are restaurants serving high-calorie food anywhere. It's like there's no end in sight. (at least in my town.) I see less people in the gym. Even fit people don't stay thin for long (Myself included) This might sound like it's a big conspiracy and in a way I don't mind. I love eating tasty food. It makes me happy. But is this what we're really becoming? Is the media trying to lead us somewhere with the commercials and ads? What about health risks? My theory is maybe we're meant to be a certain level of fat. Am I wrong for thinking that way? I kind of hope I am. I don't mind being fat, just not really fat. Or is she just saying 'Get fat and be happy'?
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- weight gain
- society
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When I met by boyfriend in 2019, I expressed interest in selling nudes online. I had a premium snapchat, but wanted something more reliable. Well, first he told me about BBWs. Previously, I had been doing every pose imaginable to hide my stomach. Come to find out, some guys wanted to see it! And so I found that niche, found confidence, found admiration for my body. It was nice, feeling sexy in my own skin. The compliments, the tips, it all made me very happy. But one day he asked me "would you ever want to get...bigger?" I have to admit, I was taken aback. "How dare you" I thought. It was hard enough to feel confident offline at that size. Who on earth could ever want to get fatter? So he showed me. Stuffing, feeding, before and afters, weigh-ins. Everything you've all come to enjoy on this wonderful website. I said no, at first, how could you not? I got enough stares and comments as it was. But, something clicked in me. Something about the indulgence, something about the lack of restraint. It called to me. It took me a while, but I finally yielded to him. "Okay, just 15 pounds." And with that one sentence a whole world opened up to me. Never left wanting, always full. At the mere declaration of my whim, I had whatever my stomach desired. Treats savory and sweet. And as my waistline grew, and my body became more plush and ample. His admiration grew, his hands lingered longer on areas I never knew to be intimate. My arms, the small of my back. My whole body now a monument to pleasure and plenty. That was 60lbs ago. So I've decided to share the next "15 pounds" with you here. I hope you enjoy it, and please, let me know what you want to see :).
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- story
- weightgain
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Who else started off hating themselves before finding feederism?
Guest posted a topic in Serious Discussion
Hey 👋 Pie here lol was curious how many ladies or anyone really started out dieting and trying to fit in before finally finding this lifestyle and letting go completely. I have a WILD weight gain and loss history. At one point being almost 400 lbs and then loosing over 100lbs just to slowly (than rapidly) gain it all back after starting to eat freely again. I just can’t believe I wasted so much time hating my own body!! I even spent a year in binge eating disorder treatment where they wanted me to eat more normal portions it was MISERABLE 6/29/23 & 6/15/2013- 10 replies
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- tw eating disorders
- feederism
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TW: Immobility, death feederism, bedbound Nadya is mourning a loss. The loss of her mobility. In this thirty minute clip you’ll experience each stage of grief with her. Here’s just a small taste of what’s to come.. Denial: In this segment she’s in complete disbelief that she’s actually immobility. She teases and taunts you that you’re outrageous for even thinking such a thing. She blames her lack of mobility on a foot injury and claims by next week she’ll be up on her feet. Pathetic. Anger: Reality is starting to set in. Nadya is absolutely furious you did this to her. How could you? She trusted you and you tricked her into thinking you would start cooking healthy. She can’t stop telling you how you’ve ruined her body. This is all your fault. She takes none of the blame yet. She can barely catch her breath while telling you off. She’s terribly out of shape. Bargaining: Her anger turns into fear after realizing what you’re capable of. She begs you to help her lose weight. She comes up with a plan. If you help her lose weight she’ll gain it all back. Nadya just wants to go to the beach one last time. But you won’t budge. You know deep down she wants this life. Her pleas are absolutely pathetic. Depression: Once she realizes her fate she knows her gluttony has won. She’s addicted to eating. All food taste the same at this point. But she can’t stop. Her health is also declining. Words start coming out slurred, she doesn’t know what day of the week it is, or even what month it is, etc you know what’s finally coming next. Acceptance: Nadya does a complete 180. Shes actually giddy knowing what shes accomplished. She’s so excited for what’s to come. And she can’t thank you enough. Unfortunately she can barely talk for a few minutes without wheezing and panting. This is an E-X-T-R-E-M-E video. Nadya doesn’t shy away from going into details that are absolutely shocking. This description is just a small preview of her dialog in the clip. If you’re a fellow death feedist, I can assure you this will go above and beyond your deepest fantasies. Some more of her immobility clips: https://curvage.org/forum/index.php?/files/file/39325-immobility-the-doctors-office/ https://curvage.org/forum/index.php?/files/file/30135-my-true-thoughts-on-immobility/ https://curvage.org/forum/index.php?/files/file/30378-my-daughters-and-i-are-out-of-control/$26.99
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Hey fellow travelers, I come to you today with a tale of gravity, struggle, and an insatiable love for life’s most indulgent pleasures. I tried to combine a story out of my life from a couple days ago with an kind of artsy, highbrow writing style. I'd be happy to hear some feedback! So buckle up, because this journey isn’t for the faint of heart—or the light of step. The Scale of My Odyssey Picture this: a parking lot, bathed in the harsh fluorescent glow of morning. For most, it’s a mere pit stop on the way to the doctor, a brief interlude between car and clinic. But for me, it’s a battleground—a proving ground where my body wages war against itself. The Epic Waddle As I step out of my car, the asphalt groans under my weight. My clothes cling to me like a second skin, their seams straining against the gravitational pull. The distance to the doctor's entrance—what should be a casual stroll—is now an epic odyssey. Each step feels like lifting a mountain, and my waddle is a slow-motion dance of defiance. Judgmental Stares and Invisible Hurdles The stares from passersby are arrows, piercing my resolve. Their eyes trace the curves of my existence, measuring me against a world that wasn’t designed for my dimensions. I’m not just battling my own flesh; I’m pushing against a society that whispers, “Why don’t you just eat less?” as if it were that simple. Gasping for Breath, Heart Pounding By the time I reach the doctor's door, my breath comes in ragged gasps. My heart pounds like a war drum, echoing the rhythm of my struggle. I collapse into a waiting room chair, beads of sweat forming constellations on my forehead. The stark reality hits me: this isn’t just about physical exertion; it’s about survival. The Fear of Immobility I fear immobility—the day when my body rebels entirely, refusing to carry me any further. When even the shortest journey becomes an insurmountable peak. But here’s the paradox: despite the weight, the strain, and the judgment, I refuse to give up my love affair with food. The Battle into the doctor's office As I sit in the waiting room, trying to catch my breath and compose myself, a nurse calls my name. "Ms. ...?" she says, her voice tinged with concern. I hoist myself up from the chair, my joints creaking in protest, and follow her down the narrow hallway to the doctor's room. Entering the room feels like crossing a threshold into a realm of judgment and scrutiny. My doctor sits behind a desk cluttered with files, her expression a mix of worry and thinly veiled disgust. She gestures for me to take a seat, her eyes flickering over my bulging frame. I lower myself into the chair with a grunt, the plastic groaning beneath me. It's a struggle to find a comfortable position, to ease the strain on my protesting muscles and bones. The doctor clears her throat, her gaze fixed on the chart in front of her. "Mia," she begins, her voice heavy with disapproval. "I think we need to talk about your weight." I nod, my stomach churning with a mix of shame and defiance. This conversation is nothing new, a broken record of admonishments and empty promises. Confrontation at the Scale As I attempt to undress myself per the doctor's instructions, beads of sweat dot my forehead, and my breath comes in short, labored bursts. Every movement is a monumental task, each article of clothing a battle won against my own body. The fabric sticks to my skin, refusing to yield easily. With trembling hands, I struggle to remove my shirt, the material stretched taut over my bulging form. Each button feels like a weightlifting exercise, and by the time I manage to free myself, I'm panting as if I've just run a marathon. Next comes my pants—a Herculean effort that leaves me gasping for air. I fight against the resistance of fabric and flesh, the struggle magnified by the relentless pull of gravity. Finally, with a grunt of exertion, I manage to peel them off, revealing the full extent of my burden to the unforgiving gaze of the doctor. With a deep breath, I step onto the scale, the metal groaning beneath my weight. The doctor adjusts the settings, recalibrating the scale in a desperate attempt to accommodate my size. But even her efforts prove futile. After a few tense moments, she looks up at me, her expression a mix of shock and concern. "I'm sorry, Mia," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're too heavy for the scale." Her words hang in the air like a heavy shroud, suffocating me with their implications. I've surpassed the limits of measurement, exceeded the bounds of what this world is capable of quantifying. After the doctor's revelation about the scale's limit (220 kgs / 485 lbs) and her grave concerns about my health, I sit there, feeling the weight of her words pressing down on me like a physical force. It's not news to me that I'm overweight, but hearing it from a medical professional, seeing the worry etched on her face, makes it all too real. As the doctor continues to outline the risks of my extreme weight, listing off a litany of potential health problems—heart disease, worsening diabetes, ** issues—I feel a slight wave of fear wash over me. Leaving the office, I carry the weight of my diagnosis like a heavy burden on my shoulders. Each step feels labored, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I huff and puff my way down the corridor. I can't shake the feeling of dread that settles in the pit of my stomach, nor can I ignore the physical strain of my body as it rebels against the simplest of movements. The weight of my own flesh feels like an anchor, dragging me down with every step. As I finally emerge into the harsh light of day, I pause for a moment, leaning heavily against the wall as I try to catch my breath. It's a futile effort, my chest heaving with the exertion of the short journey from the doctor's office to the outside world. Seeking Comfort in Familiar Pleasures As I finally drag myself back to my car, every step feels like an eternity. My muscles ache, protesting with each movement, and the weight of my body pulls me down like a lead anchor. Leaning heavily against the car door, I let out a heavy sigh, the exhaustion settling deep into my bones. With trembling hands, I fumble for my keys, struggling to find the energy to even lift them. It takes a few tries, but eventually, I manage to unlock the door and collapse into the driver's seat. The car groans in protest as I settle into it, the suspension sagging under my weight. For a moment, I simply sit there, catching my breath and trying to muster the strength to continue. The thought of driving home is daunting, but there's something else pulling at me—a craving that refuses to be ignored. With a sense of resignation, I start up the car, the engine roaring to life beneath me. It feels tighter than usual, the space constricting around me like a vise. But I push aside the discomfort, focusing instead on the promise of comfort waiting just down the road. Without hesitation, I steer the car towards the nearest McDonald's Drive-In, the golden arches beckoning like a beacon of solace in the distance. It's a familiar ritual—a reward for surviving another day in a body that feels more like a prison than a vessel. Pulling into the parking lot, I can already feel the anticipation building inside me. The smell of greasy fries and juicy burgers hangs heavy in the air, tantalizing my senses and igniting a hunger that borders on desperation. With a mixture of excitement and shame, I place my order at the drive-thru, my voice cracking with anticipation. The thought of sinking my teeth into that familiar comfort brings a surge of adrenaline, momentarily drowning out the nagging voice of reason in the back of my mind. As I wait for my food, I can hardly contain myself, my hands trembling with anticipation. And when the greasy brown bag is finally placed in my outstretched hands, I feel a rush of euphoria wash over me—a temporary reprieve from the weight of my reality. Without hesitation, I tear into the bag, devouring its contents with reckless abandon. Each bite is a symphony of flavors, a fleeting moment of bliss in a sea of chaos. And as I sit there in the parking lot, surrounded by the remnants of my indulgence, I feel a sense of satisfaction wash over me—a brief respite from the never-ending struggle of existence. Struggling Homeward: A Battle Against Gravity and Exhaustion As I drive through the McDonald's Drive-In for a second time, the allure of comfort food pulls me back in. Despite the nagging voice in my head warning against further indulgence, I can't resist the siren song of greasy fries and juicy burgers. With a mix of guilt and anticipation, I place another order, my cravings outweighing any sense of restraint. As I wait for my food, the minutes feel like an eternity. Each passing second amplifies the hunger gnawing at my insides, driving me to the brink of desperation. And when the attendant finally hands over the second batch of greasy goodness, I feel a rush of happiness hormones wash over me. With the scent of fast food filling the car, I speed towards my sanctuary, eager to find solace within the familiar confines of my own four walls. But as I pull into the driveway and the comforting glow of home beckons me closer, I'm hit with a wave of apprehension. The simple act of exiting the car feels like a Herculean task, my muscles protesting with each movement. The weight of my body presses down on me like a heavy burden, making even the smallest of actions feel monumental. But with a determined grunt, I manage to extricate myself from the driver's seat, my limbs trembling with exertion. The journey from the car to the front door is a struggle of epic proportions. Each step feels like lifting a mountain, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fight against the relentless pull of gravity. And when I finally reach the threshold of my house, I collapse against the doorframe, my strength spent and my body screaming in protest. With trembling hands, I fumble for my keys, struggling to find the energy to unlock the door. It takes several attempts, but eventually, the lock clicks open, and I stumble inside, grateful for the sanctuary of my own home. But even here, amidst the familiar comforts of my living room, I can't escape the weight of my reality. As I sink into the plush cushions of the couch, exhaustion washes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me drained and defeated. The simple act of sitting feels like an accomplishment, my muscles trembling with the effort of supporting my weight. Comfort in Consumption: Finding Solace Amidst Exhaustion As I sit there, tired and exhausted, the remnants of my McDonald's feast spread out before me, I can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. Despite the physical strain of the day's events, the familiar taste of greasy fries and juicy burgers brings a moment of happiness. With each bite, I feel the weight of my worries lift ever so slightly, replaced by a warm sensation of contentment. The flavors dance on my tongue, a welcome distraction from the chaos swirling around me. As I devour the remaining fast food, I allow myself to revel in the simple pleasure of indulgence. The guilt that had plagued me earlier fades into the background, drowned out by the comforting familiarity of comfort food. Yet for now, in this small corner of my living room, surrounded by the remnants of my indulgence, I allow myself to bask in the warmth of fleeting happiness. Tomorrow may bring new struggles, new challenges to overcome, but for now, in this moment, I am content. A Heavy Heart, a Hungry Soul So, my fellow travelers, let’s raise our forks to defiance. Let’s savor every bite, knowing that our love for food is both our burden and our salvation. We may waddle through life, but our taste buds soar among the stars. And as long as there’s a recipe to try, a flavor to explore, we’ll keep defying gravity—one delicious bite at a time. Stay hungry, stay heavy, and may your culinary constellations guide you. Mia