Bellylover777

Yesterday was a really low point for me. It seemed at every turn that I was reminded of how fat I've become. I felt huge, and disgusting,  and ashamed. So of course, as soon as I was alone,  I stuffed myself.  
Obviously,  the opposite action to take if I was truly disturbed by my size. But really, what I was feeling was alone. There I was, facing my enormous weight gain as if it mattered and my partner seemed so unaware.  Not just unaware of my feelings,  no, worse than that, unaware of my rapidly growing body.
After trying in vain to fit into every single pair of shorts and jeans I own yesterday (that don't have an elastic waist) I stomped down stairs and announced I would have to buy new pants immediately or I would not be able to go out to dinner that night with our friends. He never looked up from his phone. "Sure, go ahead." was his exact response. I put my hands on my waist, as if to dramatize my point, "my pants will not even fit around me,  much less button!". Nothing. Silence.
How can someone so big be so invisible? Does he realize how fat I have gotten this year but is just afraid to say? If that's it, he's a marvelous actor. Not to mention that I once asked him how come he never mentions my weight gain and his answer..."I never noticed,  you wear baggy clothes.".
Baggy clothes? Yeah that would hide a few pounds here or there but surely not the 100 pounds I have gained in our 16 years together! Especially when 60 of those pounds has been just recent. No, he really doesn't seem to notice.  Worse yet, he doesn't seem to care. I mean,  at least if he hated it and called me a fat pig I might actually stick to a diet. But his total lack of awareness just makes me eat more.
So, did I go buy new pants? No. I waited until he left for the day and then stuffed myself. I don't think it was my plan, it sort of just happened.  I ate one thing and then another. I cleaned out the kitchen by late afternoon and rather than stop I ordered pizza. I was past the point of caring by then and just wanted to eat. 
I answered the door to the DoorDash driver with my shorts rolled down beneath my bloated gut and a tshirt that stopped fitting 40 pounds ago, no bra and my nipples hard as my tits lay on top of my ball belly. I had hit rock bottom.  I wanted my fat body to shock someone. And it did.
The girl delivering my pizza was a tiny wisp of a thing. A strong wind would knock her over. Not particularly pretty but young enough and scantily dressed enough in this heat to turn a few heads. But it was her that did the double take. She tried to act like it was normal to see someone bulging out of their clothes answer the door as if they were showing off but her face said it all. 
I imagined her a cartoon character who's jaw dropped and hit the floor. And her teeny tiny waist and bee sting boobies made me want to ham it up even more. Honestly,  had it been an older person or even a guy,  I probably would have sucked it in and tried to cover myself in shame.  But something about the absurdity of my huge stuffed belly compared to her perfectly flat tummy made me snap.
I stuck my gut out proudly and acted like I was barely able to stand. I allowed the pizza box to bump my belly before moving my hands to fully grasp it. And then,  in over the top fashion, instead of saying thank you and closing the door, I had to go one step further.
"Thanks for getting here so quickly. I'm starved and wanted time to eat this whole pizza before I have to get ready to go out for dinner."
The words hung there between us for a moment.  I instantly regretted it. She laughed as if I had made a wonderful joke. I laughed too my belly bouncing against the warm pizza box. And then suddenly embarrassment turned to excitement.  I wanted desperately to stop her and say "No, no, it's true! Come watch me." But thank the heavens I returned to my senses!
She hurried away down the long walkway back to her car and I slunk back inside and locked the door as if shutting out the world. I immediately opened the pizza and shoved a slice in my mouth. I ate the first few pieces standing in the kitchen. I took the rest upstairs with me. I sat on the end of the bed staring into my closet and just kept eating. 
I ate the whole thing. Mind you, that's something I never do! Not when I'm on a purposeful binge even,  do I eat an entire pizza. I felt sick. My stomach hurt, it was hard and too full. I tried to burp as much as I could. I laid back on the bed. I felt like I would burst. With my shorts pulled down and my shirt pulled up I fell asleep. 
When I woke I felt that all too familiar regret and humiliation.  I set about cleaning up the evidence of my gluttony. Tried my best to shower and doll myself up a bit. All the while being so aware of my horrible shame. I contemplated canceling my DoorDash account, but it's never the same driver twice around here I decided. 
I mixed a very stiff drink to muster some courage and upstairs I went to dress. My clothes were tight and uncomfortable.  My bra pushed against my still rock hard bulging stomach, my panties cut into my hips and rolled under my ball belly. I managed to get myself into a pair of stretch jeggings (jeans made like leggings) and with the aid of a button extender managed to get them fastened. I chose the loosest tank top I could find and stretched at it to try and help it fit better. Slip on sandals were all I could manage since I really didn't want to bend over if I didn't have to.
Back down stairs I hoped I could relieve myself some before leaving but no luck. My body decided you ate all that, you can keep it. By the time I was done rechecking hair and make-up I had finished a second drink. He texted from the car. "I'm here" is all it said. No time for another drink. Ugh. I took a quick slug from the bottle.
Feeling like a sausage stuffed in my tight clothes, with a bit of a buzz, and a gut loaded with food still, I left for the car. Again cartoon visions filled my head as I imagined I looked like I had been filled with an air pump, or garden hose, or conveyor belt quickly dropping food into my greedy mouth. I assumed that in turn, if I was as fat as those characters,  I must waddle like them too! A tinge of excitement ran through me and I allowed my belly to heavily sway with each step.
He never looked up. Not even when I struggled to get into his car or when I groaned and grunted fastening my seat belt.  I tugged at my top trying to free it from my belly rolls. My pants felt like they were cutting into skin. I felt huge. I felt stuffed. I felt so fat. And most of all I felt excited! 
Excited that I was going out to eat. That's right...eat. I knew, then and there as he ignored me and chatted on about his day, that I was far from done stuffing myself today. I was going to eat again, in public, in front of his friends, if it killed me. Fuck him for not seeing how huge I've gotten.  Fuck him for not saying, "um hey sweetie you've really put on a bit of weight". Fuck him for not being turned on at the idea of watching me sitting next to him in a restaurant booth eating until I have to unbutton my pants. And more over...fuck him for not saying "you look beautiful tonight". Because as fat as I was, as bloated and uncomfortable as I was, I did still TRY to look pretty for him.

Good afternoon everyone! I have uploaded a new curvage clip to the store for your viewing pleasure! 
 
This time I start of by scarfing down a cheese danish while I rub my belly, chugging it down with milk right out of the gallon. This ends up making me really hot feeling all of my sexy curves and rolls..
 
So i bring you with me to the shower where I wear an overly tight bralett and teeny little thong  I douse myself with water and play with the shower head as I soak my entire body, dancing, shaking, jiggling all of my delicious fat and rolls while the water runs all over me. Lots of belly play and ass footage! I promise if you like my content, this is one for you!!
 
Come get steamy and wet with me 😘💦💦

 

Hello loves! This morning I woke up in a mood to show myself some love. I picked out two of my old favorite jeans from my closet and decided to see if they still fit. Both jeans are a size 24/26, which clearly I have all but outgrown. It took a lot of jumping, shaking, and squeezing to force all of my rolls into the jeans and I could barely zip them as I’m exploding out of the zipper. I started touching myself all over during this because seeing how large and round my body is now and watching it jiggle was really turning me on!! I decided to dance a little bit as i was really feelin myself!! Luckily I caught this all on camera and uploaded it as my very first curvage clip for your enjoyment!! Hope you love it ❤️🥰 

It comes over me without warning, like a massive wave suddenly crashing over a calm sea. And out of the blue I begin to eat. Oh not your average three meals a day kind of eating. Not even the kind of eating that comes from boredom, stress, or any other mental or emotional malady.  No, it's the kind of eating that serves only one purpose, to get bigger.
I think of a bear preparing for hibernation or a pregnant body that instinctively knows it's eating for two.  This deep primal urge that says eat, eat like your very life depends on it. And I do.   I'm never really aware of my own intentions at first. Oh, after a while I see all the signs. They were there, screaming at me, I just ignored them. My body tried to tell me. It began to bloat with the retention of fluid and the slowing of digestion. My libido tried to tell me as desire crept in and my nipples became persistently hard and demanding. And then of course there was the eating.    Looking back,  I always know. I know my fetish has been denied too long and it will not be ignored. My urges to feed someone else, to run my hands over a their hard round belly, to hear them moan and belch as they struggle to be comfortable after gorging, those urges are too strong. And so my body decides for me, without a willing partner I will simply have to make do alone, with my body. And I eat.   I eat too fast, too much, for too long. By the the time I decide to consciously acknowledge what I've begun it's too late. I'm not able, or maybe willing, to stop. My belly is already bloated and bulging. My clothes are already way to tight. I'm already horny. Why stop now?   And so I don't.  I spend a day, no usually way more, stuffing my already fat body. Secretly I eat five or six meals more than the normal daily three. I hide the evidence of my binging; wearing my largest and baggiest fat clothes, burying empty food containers under other trash, stashing take out and leftovers in the back of the refrigerator for later, eating boxes of pastry in a parking lot, going to two or three drive up restaurants in a row. All in the hopes of finding lustful satisfaction in a body made bigger than it's ever been. Massive, and stuffed, and bursting at the seams.   It's thrilling and so arousing, but also embarrassing and truly disturbing.  And yet,  once again, I document it. Maybe for some kind of vanity,  so I can look back and say "see what you did". Or maybe, and more likely,  it's all part of the obsession. Create this enormous, fat, moaning, stuffed pig and then use it for not only my own pleasure but that of other's. I mean I understand their desires after all, they are my desires too.    But sadly,  when the waves subside and the water is still once more, it's just my body again. Not a sex toy, like some blow up doll I can over inflate at will when the urges grip me. And back in my right mind I'm left with guilt, remorse, regret. Not to mention the suffering and pain that days of gluttony do to a person. And of course a fat, round, swelled up body that is too old to recover the way it used to. So, I just get a bit fatter ever time.    Yeah,  it's the most exciting fucking thing in the world when it's happening. But when it's over, ugh. Just ugh. I'm miserable and so ashamed. And then I swear it's the last time. I'll resist my desires all together. Or maybe just keep using my partner's fat body as a means of fulfilling my fetish through fantasy alone. My imagination is amazingly vivid and really quite limitless. I don't need all the bells and whistles, he's fat, that's enough. I don't need the real thing after all. Right?    Sure. Right. Play the imagination game. Watch some videos. Chat with some fellow sufferers. Imagine what you could be doing with your fat partner. It'll be enough.    Enough. That's kind of a funny word. At least for a gluttonous fat fetishist.  ENOUGH.  Good one. Especially since I've just realized I'm well on my way through a box of breakfast cereal as I write this.     Here we go again. 

How much has my life changed since I learned about feederism? really a lot! Now I have a great adventure with my body, the change has been enormous and the experiences have been gastronomic (fascinating) and of people. Meeting people who love to feed and be fed every day is magical and even more so when they are so similar to you. I love being part of this and thanks to you I have super support to keep going.
this is all my trayectory and change about my body and me.🐽💜

I am so thankful for all the interaction and Followers! 
Words can not express how much I love and appreciate all of you! 
You have welcomed me with open arms. ❤️